destielfilth-blog reblogged
DeanCas coda to 12.04 “American Nightmare”
“So, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”
“What?”
They do this now; sit on separate beds, miles away from one another, and talk. It’s uncomfortable—Dean’s face is always hot where it’s pressed against his phone, and Cas’s voice is a ghost of itself over the tinny line, but they make do. This isn’t the first time they’ve been apart and it won’t be the last. A little time apart is healthy, right?
That’s hard to remember when, ridiculously, all Dean wants is to have someone hold him.
“The wiccan I thought was a witch—Beth, you remember me talking about her? She gave me her number.”
Silence.
“Uh, Cas? You there?”
“I’m here.” Dean frowns at the far-away sounding response, listening intently to the rustle of fabric as Cas settles and re-settles on whatever starched motel bed he’s found himself for the night. The angel still doesn’t need sleep, but apparently, having his own space is the only way he’s managing to stay sane on his weird little roadtrip thing with Crowley (which Dean is totally not bitter about, by the way). “Um…” Cas clear his throat. “What will you do with it?”
A frown. “Like, what’ll I do with the number? Nothing. Why,” he asks, cautious. “Do you… think I should call her?”
They haven’t had time to talk about it. Between Amara and Chuck and Mom and Lucifer, Dean’s barely had a second to wipe his ass, let alone have a Grown Up Conversation about where exactly he and Cas stand. They touch a lot, and they kiss a lot, and sometimes they fuck, but they’ve never actually said the words dating or relationship. Not that Dean’s necessarily complaining; that shit’s always ended in tears, but… he kind of thought he and Cas were on the same page for this.
“…If you want to call her,” Castiel finally says. “You should.”
Dean grits his teeth. “Wow, Cas, way to make a guy feel special.”
The freaking angel has the gall to sigh on the other end. “What are you talking about.”
“What’m I—” the hunter cuts himself off, shaking his head as his hands turn to fists. “I thought we were both knew what we were getting ourselves into, here, but I guess not. I guess I didn’t get the goddamn memo.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one who told me about a woman giving you her phone number!”
“Yeah, Cas!” Dean exclaims. “I told you about my day. I shared something with you because I thought it was something we could laugh about—haha isn’t this so hilarious because I’m 100% committed to you. But here you are fucking telling me to call her so I guess I really missed the mark on that one.”
“Dean—”
“No. You’re always wanting me to talk? Fine. This case was so fucked Sam and I had to down six fingers just to stop fucking shaking. I was so friggin’ stubborn a social worker thought I was flirting when I went to her office to kill her, and I was so fucked up over the mom thing, I almost fucking lost Sam. A kid fucking died because I wasn’t there. Hell, the only light at the end of the tunnel was one kid got away safe, and Mom texted me back, but even though I get why she left she’s still gone. You’re still gone. And I know, okay; I’m an asshole who doesn’t treat you half as good as I should, but jesus I thought we both knew what we were doing, here.”
“Dean,” Cas says weakly.
Dean stubbornly wipes a hand down his face, taking the moisture on his cheeks with it. “Fuck, I just… I fuckin’ miss you, man. But if this ain’t gonna work out, you tell me, here and now, because I don’t think I can—” his breath hitches and he swallows the rest of his sentence, biting his lip in an attempt to keep it together. How the hell did this happen?
“Dean, I’m not—I don’t—” Cas’s breath rattles through the speaker, and Dean’s chest turns cold. “…I’m sorry about your case,” the angel finally says. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry I misunderstood, but I.” He pauses, collecting himself. When he speaks next, his voice is a low croak. “I don’t want to overstep. I don’t want—”
To get kicked out again, Dean’s mind finishes. He feels his heart sink.
“Listen to me,” he says—firm, brooking no argument. “You can’t overstep. Cas, I-I want you here, for every beginning, middle and end of every day. I wanna fuckin’ make you breakfast in the morning and go to sleep with you at night, and I want people to stop giving me their numbers ’cause I can’t help holding your hand while we’re on cases. I just…”
“Me too,” the angel murmurs, suddenly all sweet and shy.
Dean bites his lip, ducking his head in a nod while his ears flare red. “Um,” he mumbles. His heart is gonna crack his ribs for how hard it’s pounding. He licks his lips. “So, uh, find that SOB so you can come home, huh?”
Cas is smiling so bright, Dean can practically hear him over the phone. “I will,” he says.
“Great. Cool. I, ah. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dean.”
