CAT’S OUT OF THE BAG. DEAN’S OUT OF THE CLOSET.
DID THIS SERIOUSLY HAPPEN OMG
YEAH, DUDE. I MEAN, WHY WOULD I GIF IT IF IT DIDN’T HAPPEN
totally happened yep
i just had to reblog
No title yet.Destiel. Plain and simple.
Warnings: hurt/comfort, horror imagery,
Rating: Explicit (in later parts)
“Where are you, man?” Dean pleased to the silence of his room.
It seemed like months since he had seen Cas- perhaps it was months- hell, Dean didn’t know.
Couldn’t tell anymore. The aching pain in the pit in his stomach seemed to grow everyday- with Sammy’s wellbeing going down the drain- everything in his 30 some years had never made him feel this shitty in his life. No, not even after Hell.
All he wanted was something- some reassurance that shit was gonna be okay- and Cas was pretty much the only person- thing- that he could stand getting any sort of comfort from. He didn’t have anyone else.
Dean ran his calloused hands through his hair and pushed the balls of his palms into his eyes. He felt weak- imagining Sammy sleeping fitfully in the next room…if he was even sleeping at all- made his head spin and bile rise in his throat.
Dean didn’t cry- well, not if he could help it- and as the hot tears welled up in his eyes he blinked them away, trying desperately to regain composure. His eyes traveled to the empty chair in the corner- blurred to a red mess through the tears again hazing his vision. With a strangled cry as he still saw no one sitting in it, he threw himself back onto his bed, fists flying at his pillow.
“God-fucking- DAMNIT, Cas!!” He hissed through clenched teeth, burying his sobs into the thin worn pillow. He didn’t want Sam to wake. He knew that when emotions got the best of him he could be quite shrill. Empting his lungs into the bed with a muffled sob he took gasping breaths through the cotton. He couldn’t deal with this. Any of this. As Dean moved his head to the side to breathe fully he thought he faintly heard the flutter of wings.
Deans head jerked up, and as he stared blearily once more around the room, the door opened with a crack.
“Dean?” Came Sam’s tired baritone. Dean’s heart fell. The sliver of light that encased his brothers figure blatantly illuminated the fact that Sam already looked worn and leaner than usual.
Dean sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
“It’s cool, Sam. Just… go back to bed,” he rasped like so many times before in his life.
Dean watched as his brother’s shadow stifled a sigh- his broad shoulders hunching.
“If you need anything man- just-“
“Sammy.” Dean retorted, peeling off his flannel. “I’m fine. You need to get some rest. Please. The next few weeks aren’t gonna be easy. Please.”
It wasn’t a request. Dean sighed as the door closed slowly. Stripping off his black tee and worn jeans, Dean ripped back the covers on his mattress and tumbled into a fitful sleep.
Darkness. Dean’s hands searched blindly in front of him, grasping at air. As his fingers found a cold damp wall and brushed through something hot and gelatinous he recoiled in horror. Fuck. His legs were heavy, his breathing labored as he stumbled on through the darkness.
“Sam…Cas…Bobby? Hell- anyone?!” his voice rasped- fire in his throat.-lips cracked and painful- words barely escaping through the void. It was like being tightly wrapped in wool- no echos- just crushing silence pounding in his eardrums. His heartbeat wasn’t steady- rollicking in his chest.
Dean stopped. An eerie glow suddenly permeated the gloom- and he saw gaunt faces floating out at him.
Sam- Bobby- Ellen, Jo…Dad… horribly disfigured. Sickly- their skin stretched too tight over their skulls, and yellow.
Dean recoiled as Sam’s visage leered at him- mouth opening in a horrendous manner; lips splitting over his teeth, thick black blood pouring down his chin. And something was moving. Dean let out a strangled cry as maggots- thousands of fucking maggots- emptied out of the gaping sick hole that was Sam’s mouth. Filling the space. Crushing, writhing, squishing.
He felt them soar through the space- feeling them slide and burn as millions of white grubs consumed him. Laughter of the cruelest nature met his ears, and in a horrendous scream, Dean reeled awake.
“CAS!” Dean shouted- soaked in the lake of sweat that was his bed- and found himself flung into a pair of lithe, yet strong arms.
“Dean-“ came Cas’ gruff voice next to his left ear. Dean let out a furious cry and reeled backwards- grasping at the air as his center of balance fell into nothing- pain coursing through his head as it met with the cold tile of his floor. His legs came last- lamely splaying down from the side of the bed- his left ankle wrapped tight in the sheet.
“Dean- it’s alright.”
Dean peered up through the gloom of his bedroom- and was shocked at what he saw.
Castiel was sitting on his bed- trenchcoat and tie gone- folded neatly on the red chair in the corner.
The faint moonlight that streamed through the tiny crack in the black curtains of the even tinier window at the top of Dean’s room haloed around Castiel’s dark hair, illuminating one side of his features in an almost eerie way. Cas’ brow was furrowed like usual, but his pulse was clearly visible at the v of his open collar.
“Dean slapped the sweat from his brow- tugging his sheet onto the floor over himself, fumbling at his trapped ankle and freeing it. He felt more naked under Cas’ scrutinizing gaze than if he didn’t have any boxers on at all.
“Son of a- CAS!” Dean struggled, reeling up on his knees.
Cas gazed down on him and held out his hands toward his friend.
“You’ve had a nightmare,” came the angel’s cool reply.
“Understatement of the fucking century, man. Where the hell have you been? And now you show up in my room in the middle of the night?”
“Dean please.” Cas seemed to be straining to keep composure. He still held his hands out.
Dean sighed. Taking one of Cas’ hands and carefully holding his sheet up to his waist, Dean allowed himself to be pulled back up onto his bed.
“I’m sorry Dean,” Cas said quietly, turning faintly crimson. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come the first time you called.”
Dean blinked. Cas looked so vulnerable- and almost alien in his room- dressed down and sitting on his…bed. Something was off. Something was different.
“Its.. it’s okay, Cas. You’re… you’re here now.” Dean swallowed. Cas’ gaze was piercing, and it wasn’t the first time his pulse quickened under Cas’ scrutiny. Dean’s skin prickled as he realized he was still holding Cas’ hand. He pulled back, dragging his legs up to sit crosslegged, his arms folded around his middle.
“I am here,” Cas soothed, reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “I should have been here the entire time.”
“Cas.. man, what’s gotten into you?” Dean whispered. He felt hot. Cas’ hand almost burned on his shoulder, reminiscent of the scar that once laid there. Cas’ eyes shone in the light- were those tears? Was the dude gonna cry?
“Nothing has ‘gotten into me’, Dean. You’re shaking. You’re afraid. What was the dream about? Please. Tell me.”
Dean swallowed. Why was he so close? Well… closer than usual.
“It was just a dream, man. I’m fine.” Dean shuddered. The image of Sam’s face contorted was still burned into the back of his mind.
“You’re not, Dean. Let me help.”
Cas took both hands and laid them on either side of Dean’s face. The angel’s eyes closed, and Deans widened. He could see it all again- plain as day- and as horrible and grotesque as before.
Castiel’s brow furrowed- his fingertips pressing gently into Dean’s temples.
“These images… this isn’t normal, Dean. You still seem to be between reality and a trance like state-“
“Yeah, with you on my bed I hope it’s a trance,” Dean quipped. His heart skipped as Castiel’s blue eyes opened and met his.
Castiel held his hands steady.
“Why would you wish something like that, Dean?”
Save from being healed by Cas, this was the closest he had ever been to his friend. He didn’t know why being so close made him uneasy. It was almost like being too close to a fire on a cold night- the closer you felt you needed to be the warmer yet more uncomfortable you got.
And now with Cas on his bed- Dean felt compromised. What was this- a sleepover? Sure as heel was starting to feel like one.
Castiel lowered his hands and placed them softly around Dean’s sharp jaw.
“Why are you so frightened, my friend?” Dean’s breath halted. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, rushing, coursing through his head like a torrent.
A rough thumb grazed his lower lip. Castiel was staring at his mouth, eyes lidded.
“You have no reason to be afraid anymore, Dean Winchester,” Cas’ voice was barely above a whisper. Dean shuddered as Castiel tentatively lowered his lips onto his.
I t was like fire- Dean’s chest felt like it was tearing apart- and a soft moan escaped from him. What the actual hell was this?
Castiel pulled back, his lips dark and wet.
“Cas…” Dean gasped. Cas help him there, his eyes searching.
“What they said Dean… about me..” he trailed off.
“That when I laid a hand on you, I was lost.” Castiel murmured.
Dean was shaking. His body was cold from sweating during his dream, (He thought so at least) and his throat was dry and on fire. He wasn’t a stranger to.. .alternative sexual proclivities, but as Castiel stared him down, hand brushing across his bare chest, Dean wondered how far in fact this was gonna go.
“Cast- this is… I’m not..I can’t…” Dean stammered. Castiel stopped. His cheeks were flushed and a trace of a smile grazed his lips.
“So you’ve never… kissed me,” Castiel stated plainly.
“Well of course I haven’t! This is… well, uh, new to me? As I’m guessing it is to you?” Dean whispered.
No, this was incredibly new. Sure, there were drunken nights at parties he had crashed back in whatever high school he was at the time- he didn’t want to lie about the slight urgency he felt during those ridiculous times, sunk into a dark corner, his leather jacket peeled from his shoulders, hands roaming through the haze of pot smoke and sweat.
But this? Here he was, half naked and in his own bed- completely sober- with a “wave of celestial intent”- intent on bringing out stifled feelings he pushed away at every glance the angel gave him?
Castiel chuckled- it was like deep amber pouring over Dean’s ears, and he had a flash of the “Cas” he met years ago at the end of times- at ease and seductively stoned in his sexual prowess.
Dean pushed his hands through his hair. This was not the first time he wondered if the angel could read his thoughts.
“Okay… its just…you- Cas- you and your sudden Austin Powers mojo shit! I don’t think you understand how fucking confusing this is!”
“You want me to leave.” Cas remarked, and Deans breath caught yet again.
“No! “ He barked. “I mean… don’t leave me.” His ears burning, he reached out and placed a trembling hand on Castiel’s rough cheek. “Don’t leave me… again.”
Dean felt Castiel’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Tentatively, Dean’s lips met the angels softly. It was foreign, Casteil’s rough stubble grazing his, but as Castiel opened hungrily to him, Dean let out a moan as he let his tongue timidly graze along his friends.
Heat immediately shot down to Dean’s groin, and his hands flew to Castiel’s dark hair, pulling him closer. He could feel a smile pull at the angel’s lips, and Dean opened, catching Cas’ bottom lip between his teeth gently. The angel shuddered, his breath catching like a Gatling gun. Dean dove into the kiss, deepening it before Cas could inhale, and the angel’s blue eyes flashed, a muffled groan escaping him.
Dean liked that sound. It pushed him to do more. Cas’ skin was hot underneath his thin white shirt, and Dean’s hands traveled down Cas’ neck, pulling open his collar to reveal tan unmarked flesh. Dean loved necks. Sure, that sounded weird in and of itself… liking necks. But he could see Cas’ pulse hammering underneath his jaw and Dean wanted to feel it. He planted a hot kiss at Cas’ jaw, his hand clawing through Cas’ thick hair, pulling him closer. The blood rushing under Cas’ skin against Dean’s tongue was delightful, and in that second Dean remembered blood lust. No, he didn’t want to taste it. He wanted Cas- this angel, so open and hungry to feel. He was surprised, as he left a trail of hot wet kisses down Cas’ collar bone that the angel even had a pulse. He was so incredibly human- all musk and sweat that beaded on his brow. He nipped gently at the nape of Cas’ neck, and the angel’s nails dug into Dean’s back, urging him forward. Dean shifted, his sheet falling off the side of his bed, exposing him for the first time.
He was hard. Fuck…yeah, he was hard. His length strained at the waistband of his boxers, and Cas looked down, his eyes lidded.
“Your body doesn’t lie as much as your mouth does, my friend,” Cas murmured, his hand traveling to Dean’s hip, and Dean flinched. This was crazy. Dean breathed a chuckle into the angel’s hair.
“Yeah, well…” he couldn’t finish. Cas’ hands left Dean’s back, and deftly undid the buttons to his shirt, leaving his tanned chest exposed. Cas gently took Dean’s wrists and coaxed the hunter to slowly remove the linen from his shoulders. Dean gazed down at Cas’ physique in wonder. He was built better than Dean would have imagined- the bulky layers of the angel’s signature trenchcoat and suit did him no justice. Dean eagerly pulled the soft shirt off the angel’s toned arms, running his hands along the hard muscle that twitched beneath his fingertips.
“Damn, Cas.” Dean whispered. Cas smiled, and leaned into Dean. He had no choice but to fall back into his pillow, bringing the angel with him.