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supernaturalsupernova · 3 months ago

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The Great War — a Destiel one-shot

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Style : fluff

Word count : 4974

Heaven was a strange place to Dean. That was all that he could think about this whole new world to navigate in the first few days of his arrival. When he had arrived, Bobby was the one to welcome him with open arms and a couple cold ones, throwing around an ‘idjit’ here and there as he told the newly deceased soul to the new domain. There, on the front of a wooden porch with Bobby, Dean was caught up on the affairs of heaven as well as who was running what and where.

Dean had learnt that his parents were nearby, happy and co-existing in the Nephilim-created utopia. He learnt that Ashe had been reunited with Jo and Ellen. Kevin was up here too, doing well and nerding out with some others he had known in life. So was Charlie, who had been reunited with her parents. He knew how Sammy was doing to, making use of some special treatment from Jack to check in on his little brother every now and then. Hell, even the boy himself – someone who Dean had thought of as a son despite their rocky beginning – made his heart squeeze a little knowing that he was doing a good job at this whole God thing.

Dean was almost at peace knowing that his loved ones were safe and cared for under his adoptive son’s care. Almost. However, there was one name from the list of people who he cherished that he didn’t quite receive any closure on. Castiel – the ex-God titled ‘self-hating angel of Thursday’ and ex-angel of said lord. Castiel. Dean’s best friend and the one person who he admitted to needing when he was alive. The one who was basically Jack’s first father and the reason why Dean had given the Nephilim boy so many chances, despite his instincts to do otherwise.

Dean would never admit it out-loud, but the angel took up a lot of his thoughts. Moreso than his brother, his parents or anyone else. He internally blamed Bobby for this. Jack too. Dean could remember the feeling of hope rise in his chest and swell when he had first heard Bobby utter the words ‘Cas helped’. Meaning that Cas had been pulled from the Empty, most likely thanks to Jack. He remembered embracing the boy later that day when he had adjusted to his own dwellings on this heavenly plane – a mix-and-mash of his old childhood home and the Bunker. He had held him tight that evening and thanked him for bringing him back from the Empty. He had sat with Jack that evening and cracked open some beers just like Bobby had done with him earlier that day.

Cas – the angel who saw Dean worthy enough to sacrifice himself, really the only person to deem Dean worthy of anything. The angel who confessed how Dean had changed him, an angel of heaven and God, for the better. How Dean, a human, made a celestial being care for the molecules that were supposed to be beneath him. Thoughts of Cas ran through his brain on a loop, thoughts much like these. Dean had been up here for about three weeks now – silently grateful to Jack for keeping time consistent with Earth’s. Three weeks and not a single peep or flutter of a feather from the new God’s dad.

‘Stupid angel with his stupid wings and halo and harp,’ Dean had thought as his hands on Baby’s steering wheel drummed impatiently against the leather. ‘Where in the hell could he even be?’ This was one of the many drives Dean had been taking, cruising down the long stretch of road and woods to clear his mind and thoughts – all of which led back to Castiel. Dean thought of the man, dressed in an account’s garb and eyes so blue and bright it rivalled Heaven’s blue skies. He thought of how much he had sacrificed and how much he had cared.

“I cared for it all because of you… You changed me, Dean… I love you”

Dean’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, pushing down the ache in his chest as he swallowed thickly. His eyes narrowed at the road, trying to focus on the yellow lines and horizon ahead instead of the echoing confession in his head. Despite being in heaven, he still had many thoughts from life replay in his head and sometimes plague his mind. He understood why though – to maintain a soul’s sense of self and keep the things that made them as humans in life. He had silently praised Jack for that subtle touch; however, the man was sure that it was Castiel’s idea.

The past three weeks had consisted of Dean replaying that moment and many others of him and Cas, trying to come to terms with what he was feeling and why. Hell, he even went to Charlie to discuss what was going on in his head because… well, that’s basically his little sister who also happened to know a thing or two about non-straight confessions and maybe-possibly-somewhat late realised feelings for someone of the same gender. She had looked him in the face as he stood at the door of her place – a fantasy looking homestead – and told him it was about time he realised this which left him baffled.

Charlie, bless her soul as it was not-so-much resting thanks to her idiotic brother figure who was having an afterlife sexuality crisis/realisation. It was then and there that Dean had the realisation that he was, in-fact, bisexual (he honestly suspected it after watching Dr. Sexy on screen for a good chunk of his young adulthood), and that he actually loved Castiel – and not just in a best friend kind of way. Charlie had even joked about how Sam now owed her in a bet because Dean had realised in the afterlife and not while he was alive.

Dean had gone home that evening, replaying even more memories of the two of them with the new realisation making him come to terms why he held certain emotions to certain memories – the fondness, the hurt, the adoration, the betrayal – and why he felt it so deep within his core. Dean was also kind of annoyed as to why no one seemed to confirm his suspicions about himself. It would have made all this a whole lot easier, and maybe Dean wouldn’t have been so stunned with the angel’s last words and said it back. Maybe Cas wouldn’t have had to be sent to Super Hell.

“You’re an asshole, you know that right?” Dean muttered to himself, directing his words to the angel who had not graced the man with his presence in all the time he had been there. Dean didn’t know why he was speaking out loud, as if Cas could hear. He wasn’t sure if the angel was still able to hear his words or thoughts that concerned him. “Can’t even show up and say hi… Just dump an ‘I love you’ and get ganked… Feathered prick...”

Dean had a couple theories as to why Cas wasn’t showing up so soon – theories that varied between ‘I’m sorry, Dean. I was helping my son reset the universe and the alternate realities’ and ‘I don’t know how to face you after having a full homo moment.’ Both of which seemed reasonable, as long as the angel wasn’t ditching Dean for bees again. Then he would be really pissed.

“Um… Hello, Dean.”

Dean almost wrapped the literally-heaven-sent Impala around a tree as soon as he heard it, applying the emergency brakes and brought the car to a squeaking halt. The familiar gruff voice and slightly endearing tone that he had missed rang through his ears, his brain trying to determine whether or not he had hallucinated that or had a very vivid memory. It wasn’t until he turned to the passenger seat that his idea of hallucinating was thrown out the window.

Sat in the passenger seat was Castiel, looking at Dean curiously and cautiously, as if calculating his moves as a means of not scaring the man away or causing him to throw a punch. Dean took in Cas’s appearance – still adorning the suit get-up but ditching the coat and tie, the top two buttons of the wrinkled white shirt open which gave Dean a glimpse of his collarbones and a little lower. Cas’s hair was lightly tousled as well, just like when Dean had first met the angel in that abandoned warehouse all those years ago, as if Cas had spent the whole earlier part of the day running his fingers through it. Dean had a millisecond’s worth of a thought of him wanting to run his fingers through the unkept nest of dark hair. Dean had stared long enough to take note of the greying hairs on Castiel’s temples and five-o-clock shadow on his face.

Dean gawked, his eyes practically sticking out of his head as he stared at the angel. He watched at the angel shifted in the passenger seat, as if he was also unsure as to why or how he was there. Dean blinked, his eyelashes fluttering around the shocked green eyes that were being met with the same slightly squinted, bright and blue eyes he had been thinking about earlier. ‘This would be so much easier if I didn’t realise all this stuff… Dammit Cas,’ he thought to himself as he shook the shock from his features.

“Cas..? Is that actually you?” he said, disbelief coating every word uttered before he realised that this was actually Castiel sitting beside him. The tension from the worry about Cas’s whereabouts seemed to have released itself, his shoulders feeling less heavily. “Dude! Where the hell have you been!?”

Castiel scrunched his nose slightly from the volume of Dean’s voice but couldn’t help but give the man a small smile, the expression soft and easy. “Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted again, leaning against the seat, his posture turned slightly towards Dean. It was familiar, and slightly domestic – like a husband who knew he was in trouble with his spouse. Dean pushed that thought from his head, subconsciously cursing out Charlie who had referred to Castiel as Dean-certified husband material.

“My apologies, Dean,” Cas said, his voice still gruff yet soft. “For flying in unannounced, and for taking so long to welcome you.”

“Flying?” Dean repeated, still trying to process the fact that he was sitting in the Impala with Cas just like old times – except this time with a lot more staring and hearts beating out of chests.

Cas nodded, smiling more. He was being patient with him, Dean had noted. “Flying,” Cas confirmed. “Jack restored my wings after pulling me out of the Empty. But rest assured, I will do my best to not fly in unannounced, Dean.”

Dean was really starting to dislike this whole ‘being-in-love-with-Cas’ thing because of just how much he liked hearing Cas say his name. How much he had missed it. “Man, I don’t care,” Dean caught himself saying before a smile stretched over his face. He could deal with his feelings later – right now all that mattered was the fact that Cas was here. Safe and very much alive for an angel who has died twice.

Dean reached over to Cas and pulled him into a massive hug, catching the angel off guard. He felt Cas’s arms come up and wrap around him, a hand on the upper part of Dean’s back with his fingers brushing against the short brunette hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean could smell Cas as well – sea breeze laundry detergent, a little bit of sweat, and…

“Why do you smell like honey?” Dean queried, quirking an eyebrow as he pulled away slightly to look at Castiel, who couldn’t help but purse his lips as a soft flush raised on the back of his neck. “Oh my God, you picked the bees.”

Castiel looked at him confused, tilting his head slightly. “Bees? Dean, you are not making any sense,” he said. Dean’s face dropped slightly as he realised what he had said, silently cursing himself out for somehow seeing insects as some sort of competition. Dean was competitive though – apparently now reaching a point where he was willing to subconsciously beef with bees for a celestial being’s time and attention.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head as he pulled his arms away from Cas. “Never mind that,” he said, picking up the usual Dean swagger as he turned himself so his body was facing Castiel’s, his elbow rested atop the backrest of the front seats. “What took you so long, buddy? Finally couldn’t keep away from my charm and face?”

Cas rolled his eyes in response to Dean’s antics, a very human thing he had picked over the years from the Winchesters. However, the faintest amused look graced his features. “You could say that,” he admitted. “I would have seen you sooner, but Jack needed some help with the reset of the universe and the ones parallel to this one. And because…” Cas trailed off, as if trying to find the appropriate words.

“Because you told me you loved me and ate dirt?” Dean finished, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised what he had said. He could already hear Charlie, and probably Sam too if he were here, pestering him about his choice of words. This got a surprised chuff from Cas, his eyes widening slightly and the faintest flush cross his cheeks.

“Well… Yes, you could say that,” Cas confirmed, looking away from Dean and staring at the tarred road ahead, the asphalt unmoving. “I wasn’t too sure about how you would react to seeing me now. And I never did give you the time to provide a response before I got swallowed by nothingness incarnate.” He turned back to Dean and offered another smile, genuine and fond. “I wanted to give you time – to process what I said. I did mean all of it.”

Dean could help but feel his heart flutter, his chest swelling with a whole crap-ton of feelings that he didn’t know he had the capacity to feel in the first place. ‘Damn feelings,’ he thought to himself. “Well… I have processed everything and what you said back then,” he said, feeling a little nervous tickle in his gut. “I mean really, Cas, you could’ve at least given a guy some time to respond or something.”

Castiel honestly looked a little stunned at the statement, tilting his head once again. “Respond? I didn’t…,” he trailed off again, as if trying to comprehend the concept of Dean having anything to say in response to what he had confessed. “Dean… What was it that you wanted to say?”

Well shit.

Dean didn’t think that Cas would actually ask him that. Then again, Dean wasn’t doing a lot of thinking at the moment. He was running on pure butterflies and a microdose of adrenaline. If Dean was being honest, there wasn’t anything that he could have said in the moment it all happened. Everything he had wanted to say all came from revelations he had made about himself in the past few weeks.

Revelations that took way too long to come to the surface and consisted of what was – in Charlie’s words – years’ worth of pathetic and unconscious pining. He remembered how Charlie had smacked his shoulder after Dean had confessed to keeping Cas’s coat when he had exploded with the Leviathans and thought he was dead, and then again when he had grieved Cas’s death more than his father when Jack was born. ‘That’s so lesbian yearning coded, you dickwad,’ she had told him, exasperated. ‘I’m amazed that you didn’t realise sooner.’

Yeah, Dean was pretty surprised how blaringly obvious his feelings for Cas was. It was like everyone else could see it except for him. He had thought back to his life on Earth and how Balthazar had called Castiel the ‘angel in the dirty trench coat who was in love with him’. Apparently, he was dense to Cas’s feelings too, not just his own. Dean wasn’t sure if that was more comforting or concerning.

“I just…” Crap. Feelings. Dean was never good at talking about his stupid feelings. “Jesus…”

Dean felt a hand cover his, the touch warm and gentle. He looked at the hand over his own, felt how it squeezed slightly bigger one, and turned to look at the holder. Castiel looked at him, his face adorned with the softest and most loving expression he had seen on the angel’s face. The same look that he had given Dean when he had uttered those words. The expression held more tenderness in the light of the afternoon sun, a light breeze shifting Castiel’s already messy hair. There were no threats here, no Billie chasing after them with their lives at risk. They were simply existing in the moment, just being.

‘Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being... I love you…’

“Its okay, Dean. Take your time. You have all the time you need,” Cas said, giving Dean’s hand a squeeze again. His hold was firm, and his words were almost commanding in tone despite having the same threat level of a confused kitten in regard to his appearance. “Or if you’d like me to return later, I can do that too. You can collect your thoughts.”

This was enough to snap Dean out of his trance that was concentrated on Castiel’s had and the feeling of his grip on Dean. Dean squeezed Cas’s hand back and minutely shifted their joined hands closer to his side of the front seat. “Dammit Cas, you just got here. I’m not losing you again.” The hoarse words just slipped from his mouth but Dean wasn’t going to say anything or apologise for it.

Castiel’s eyes softened and he placed his other hand over the already entwined hands, giving a firm squeeze of reassurance. The reassurance worked, even if Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud in this moment. It kept him grounded, Cas’s subtle way of telling him he was there – in the flesh, next to Dean and very much hot alive. It was a strange connection that they had. Dean suspected it was because was the one to yank his soul out of hell and developed this ‘profound bond’. “Dean, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here if you need me to.”

They had this way of communicating, making use of just body language, facial expressions and small touches alone to get big messages across. Dean was grateful for it and grateful for Cas because the two of them knew how much Dean sucked at communicating his feelings. Flirting with girls at a bar? Easy-peasy, slice of pie. However, talking about why he was feeling a certain way? Shoot him in the head, it would be less agonising. Dean guessed that Castiel was able to adapt his behaviour and mannerisms to Dean’s needs in the moment, but they both knew that if need be, Cas would find one way or another to get Dean to talk.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispered, before chuckling to himself softly and looking at the angel sitting across from him. “Yeah. Stay. I mean, you just got here, man.” God, Dean felt awkward now. His head was rushing, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He was pretty sure that if he wasn’t already dead, he would’ve died of a heart attack by now. ‘Is this the gay panic thing Charlie was yapping about?’

Cas nodded and kept his firm hold on Dean’s hands, his thumb stroking the back of his hand almost hesitantly as if he were testing the waters. When Dean had shown no signs of dislike towards the affection, he circled his thumb with a bit more purpose, his calloused finger against Deans skin. This whole thing felt so new to the hunter – the softness, the closeness, the very obvious feelings that were basically radiating off of Castiel.

They stayed like this for a few moments, just looking at each other and observing. Waiting for someone (Dean) to say something. “Gotta say, its good to see you. Even if it took so long for your feathered ass to come say hello,” Dean finally said. This got sparked a chuckle from Cas, his eyes twinkling slightly. God, they were so blue.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to act casual, trying to keep his pulse from giving him away, but his heart was pounding loud and insistent, like it was about to burst out of his chest. “You better stay around this time, you bastard,” he muttered, more to himself than to Cas, barely louder than a whisper. It came out rougher, rawer than he’d intended. He knew Cas had heard it by the way he had seen his face soften.

Cas’s blue eyes locked onto Dean’s green ones with that quiet, intense focus—the kind of gaze that always made Dean feel as though he had been stripped bare and seen, like Cas could look right into the parts of him Dean spent his whole life burying. Which was sort of the case as Cas had seen his soul in its most pure state and rebuilt his body. Every curve, and every crevice. Had placed every single bone and muscle back into place. Painted every freckle back onto his body and face.

Cas didn’t move. He just stayed there, watching Dean with the patience that could last for multiple lifetimes. The weight of it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time, as if Cas was some unshakable force that was willing to stand by his side for forever if Dean would have asked him to. And that was what scared him, maybe even more than the battles during the multiple apocalypses, more than the monsters he had faced since his childhood. Having something—someone—so steady, so willing to be there for him, to wait for him, even when he couldn’t figure out why anyone would.

Dean tightened his grip around Cas’s hand, feeling the warmth, the solid, rough texture of it. Cas had hands that were strong, sure, but they held him with a gentleness that took Dean by surprise every time. It was comforting in a way knowing that Cas was a strategist and soldier of the old Heaven, who had fought ancient and centuries-long wars, yet he held Dean’s hand as if it was the most fragile thing in all of existence. It was more than a touch—it was something grounding, anchoring him in a way he hadn’t let anyone do in a long time. Cas had been there for him through so much, through the good, the bad, the downright ugly. Every time Dean tried to shove him away, Cas had stayed, loyal and stubborn, refusing to leave him to drown in his own darkness.

He glanced up, his gaze meeting Cas’s. He was sure Cas could see right through him; into all the pieces he tried to hide. He wanted to look away, to hide the vulnerability that was seeping out of his form, but he couldn’t. Cas’s eyes were soft, steady, that faint glimmer of hope in them that Dean had seen so many times, hope that Dean could never quite shake, no matter how hard he had tried. Dean felt his chest tightening yet again with all the things he’d never said. All the years he’d convinced himself that caring was a weakness, that needing anyone was a liability. Words he had locked away so tight that they had nearly drowned him now rose to the surface, fighting to be free.

“Cas…” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it. He wasn’t good at this. Hell, he was the farthest thing from good at this. But Cas didn’t move, didn’t look away. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, his thumb still tracing small, comforting circles over the back of Dean’s hand. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like a lifeline, like Cas was telling him that whatever he needed to say, whatever he needed to feel, it was okay. Cas would be there, just like he always was. Cas was always going to be there for Dean just like he always had been.

Dean took a shaky breath, his chest aching under the weight of everything he’d held back. “You’re not… you’re not going anywhere, right?” he forced the words out, rough and vulnerable, and he hated how raw they sounded, how exposed they left him. He needed to be sure. He needed to know that Cas wasn’t going to explode, disappear, die again or lose his memory of Dean again. But Cas’s grip on his hand tightened, firm and steady, grounding him in a way that only Cas ever could.

“No, Dean,” Cas murmured, his voice low, calm, full of that endless patience that Dean didn’t deserve but couldn’t let go of. “Just like I said, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

There was a long silence, the kind that seemed to stretch and settle around them like a comforting weight. Just the two of them in the quiet, the light filtering through the window casting a soft glow across Cas’s face. Dean felt every inch of the space between them, every second of silence carrying the weight of all the things he had never said, all the times where he had nearly lost Cas, all the times he thought he had have to face a world and it trials without him. He couldn’t do it – not anymore. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to. Cas was here.

Dean’s hand moved on its own, slipping around the back of Cas’s neck, his fingers brushing over the soft skin there, feeling the warmth – the solid, real presence of him. He felt Cas’s breath hitch, saw the way his eyes flickered. The softness, the familiarity made Dean’s heart stutter. His thumb traced Cas’s jaw, Dean’s own calloused fingers against the salt-and-pepper stubble on Cas’s face. He could feel the quiet vulnerability in Cas’s eyes, the way he looked at him, like he was waiting for Dean to decide. A warrior of Heaven, an entity that had played God and raised a new one, was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him. To love him.

Before he could second-guess himself, Dean leaned forward, closing the distance between them, his lips finding Cas’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, cautious, like he was testing the waters, as well as half-expecting Cas to pull back or disappear, like he always feared he would. But Cas didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the kiss, meeting Dean halfway. His hand lifted itself to cup Dean’s cheek, his slender fingers brushing through his hair with a tenderness, a level of adoration that made Dean feel like he was coming apart at the seams in the best way possible.

The kiss deepened, the hesitation giving way to something raw and something real. All the years of buried feelings and unsaid words were finally spilling out. Dean’s hands slid into Cas’s hair, pulling him closer and holding him tight, needing him in a way he’d never let himself need anybody else. Castiel’s touch was tender at first as it went on he kissed Dean like he was lost in the desert for forty days and forty nights, and Dean was his oasis. His fingers tracing lines along Dean’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his cheek as he held the other man’s face firmly and desperately – as if telling him that he was here, that he was real, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not again. Never again.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Dean didn’t move an inch. He had kept his forehead pressed against Cas’s, both of their eyes closed as Dean was trying to ground himself in the feeling of Castiel’s presence – in his warmth, the way he was still here, and the fact that he still with him. It felt fragile, like something that could break if he held on too tight, but he couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, simple and honest and more terrifying than anything he’d ever faced. He should had said it back then, back when Cas had confessed and sacrificed himself for Dean’s life. He should have known that Castiel was always someone who meant so much more. Castiel should have at least known how Dean felt, even if the man didn’t know himself at the time. “God, Cas, I really love you. Like… a lot.”

But Cas’s thumb brushed against his cheek once again and chuckled breathlessly, his voice soft and filled with that quiet certainty that had always grounded Dean. “I’ve always known, Dean,” Cas murmured, his voice steady and sure. “And I love you too. I always have. From the minute I touched your soul. I knew you would have me wrapped around your finger.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, a laugh caught somewhere between disbelief and relief, feeling something loosen in his chest, something he’d kept locked away for too long. For once, he let himself believe it, let himself hold onto the warmth of Cas’s touch, the steady presence of him, the knowledge that somehow, against all odds, Cas had chosen to stay. That Cas’s happiness was in just existing, in being, with Dean at his side – something that was so foreign to him once upon a time. However, for the first time in his life – well, afterlife – Dean let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved it.

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