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destielhayes-blog · 12 years

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HAPPY NEW YEARS BEE!!!

Title: 3! 2! 1! What?

Author: DestielHayes

Word Count: 2000

Pairing: Destiel (Dean/Cas)

Rating: PG - cussing

Description: Dean is stuck at Sam’s stupid party on New Years Eve, and he’s missing Castiel, who’s gone missing for a few weeks.

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Dean watched as the beer swirled around in the bottom of the red plastic cup. He hated that he was stuck here at Sam and Amelia’s stupid party; he could be at a motel getting wasted and watching porn right now! Of course, Sam was his brother, and he could never turn down his baby brother when he asked Dean to do something for him.

“This party sucks,” Dean mumbled into his drink, lifting it to his lips and draining his third cup in a single gulp, burning his throat and nearly bringing tears to his eyes as he drank too much too quickly.

“And why would that be, hmm? I’m betting it has something to do with the absence of one particular angel, who happens to wear a dirty trench coat and may or may not be in love with you. Am I right?” Crowley asked Dean with a smirk, even though, judging by his tone, Dean was sure the king of Hell already knew the answer. Dean’s silent staring into an empty cup of beer only seemed to prove the king of Hell’s suspicion further, because after only one glance at Dean, he chuckled, “Ah, I should have known; oh wait! I did!” he added a little too cheerfully for Dean’s liking.

“Shut up, Crowley,” Dean grumbled. “Why are you even here?”

“As a matter of fact, I bring good news! I’ve just been informed that your boyfriend has returned to Earth for a, shall we say, certain hunter,” Crowley explained, bending forward slightly at the hips and turning his upper body to face Dean as he said the final words, which oozed with mockery. Dean felt his face flush, and he knew Crowley had noticed, because the king of Hell chuckled before he cheerfully said, “Goodbye, boys,” waving to Sam, who was walking towards them, before zapping back to who-knows-where. Little did Dean know, Castiel had not returned for Heaven; Crowley had been lying through his teeth in an attempt to get Dean to finally man up and kiss the stupid angel. It had been perfect timing, too, on Crowley‘s behalf; now, as Dean asked Sam for a forth cup of beer, the hunter was getting a little tipsy, and a little lonely; nobody wanted to be lonely on New Years Eve if they could help it.

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Two hours, and 4 cups of beer later, Dean had almost forgotten what Crowley had said: almost. “He’s lyin’,” Dean slurred to himself as he stumbled through the crowd of people, looking for another cup of beer.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Dean, what did you say?” The angel asked, stepping between Dean and the keg of beer in the kitchen and holding his usual glass of wine.

“Nothin’, Balthazar,” the hunter slurred, hoping the angel would give up and walk away; he had no such luck though.

“I haven’t seen your angel around here anywhere, where is dear Cassy on this fine night?” Balthazar asked, looking over Dean’s shoulder as if Castiel was following behind him.

“He’s not here,” Dean growled, as the fire in his chest he had tried so hard to drink away began to grow. The fire was fuelled by the feeling of neglect, like Castiel didn’t care about Dean anymore, and the feeling of anger, about how the angel had just vanished one night over a month ago, without so much as a goodbye. It was mostly Dean’s fault; he hated himself so much that whenever something went wrong, he always blamed himself, as if he had scared the angel off or done something wrong. He kept his feelings bottled up though, which resulted in a fire, burning deep within his chest, slowly and surely destroying Dean from the inside out.

After Sam left and moved in with Amelia, it was just Castiel and Dean hunting together. As usual, after they had cleared out a vamp nest, Dean had driven back to the motel with Castiel. In the time it had taken him to climb out of the Impala though, the angel had vanished; Dean had passed out for three days after he drank himself into an alcohol-induced coma that night.

They say things get easier, but that was just another lie; the only thing that got better was Dean’s alcohol tolerance. He didn’t hunt anymore, instead, he spent his days at bars, getting drunk and picking up girls, only to think about Castiel the entire time he was fucking them into a cheap motel mattress. It had been getting worse lately; at first, Dean would only think about the angel when he was driving, but now, everything reminded him of the angel. He couldn’t even look at a simple television anymore without thinking about the time that Castiel had asked Dean to explain porn to him. Now, Castiel was all Dean could think about; now Castiel was the only thing on Dean’s mind.

Dean had caught it bad.

Dean had fallen for a fallen angel.

“Well then go…pray to him, or whatever it is that makes your angel appear to you. He’s missing one Hell of a party, and it’s quite obvious you’re missing him too,” Balthazar shrugged, turning back around to walk into the kitchen, although Dean didn’t follow him. Dean didn’t want another beer now; Dean wanted Castiel.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long enough for Sam to notice that there was something wrong. Crossing the room in three long Sammy-strides, his brother was standing in front of him within seconds of noticing him.

“How ya feeling?” he asked, already knowing the whole story about Castiel disappearing; he didn’t know how much it hurt Dean though, Dean had never told him that much.

“Fine,” Dean snapped curtly, trying to stop himself from swaying back and forth as he stood in front of his brother, his fifth cup of beer currently in his hand which he had snagged from a passing tray.

“No, you’re not,” Sam tried to convince Dean, his voice calm yet stern.

“Alright, whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean sneered; he felt terrible talking to his brother like this, but this was a bad time. “Look, this was a great party and all, but I’m outta here,” he fumed, turning around to walk out the front door.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, causing Dean to almost fall over as he turned back to face his brother.

“Not now, Sammy, not tonight,” Dean cut-in, not allowing Sam to finish whatever it was he was planning on saying. Ignoring the sassy bitch-face Sam threw Dean’s way, he spun around on his heel, barely keeping his balance after all the alcohol he had consumed, and staggered to the front door.

The fire in Dean’s chest raged as he stumbled out the door and down the street to his Impala. He was way over the legal limit to drive, but Dean had a plan, and no stupid law was going to stop him; Dean was finally feeling brave enough to confront the angel.

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Parking the car along the bend in a dusty back road, Dean flipped through radio stations -he had actually figured out how to work it for this occasion- until he found the right one. Turning off the car and climbing out of the Impala, he called, “I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here,” aloud to the dead silence of the night, leaning against the Impala’s back door.

Dean was lucky; unlike Sam, Castiel would appear to Dean in a split second, all Dean had to do was pray. Then again, in the words of the angel, he and Castiel did share a more “profound bound” then Sam and Castiel shared. Since Castiel had disappeared though, Dean had not once bothered to try praying for him to come back. Dean realized now what a huge-ass mistake that had been; he needed Castiel.

Lucky for Dean, this time was no different. No sooner had Dean finished his sentence then the familiar face appeared in front of him, close enough that Dean could feel the angel’s breath on his lips as the angel muttered that oh-so-familiar phrase, “Hello, Dean.”

Normally, Dean would remind Castiel of their personal space agreement, but tonight was different; tonight, Dean had drunk a few more beers then usual and he was feeling brave. “You came,” Dean breathed, happiness flooding through his body.

“Of course I came, Dean, I always come when you call,” Castiel replied, confusion clouding his features.

“Yeah…yeah I just thought that- since you left and all…” Dean trailed off, his bravery quickly diminishing as soon as laid eyes on the angel, whose piercing blue eyes travelled across Dean’s face about as discretely as a chainsaw cutting down a tree in the dead of night.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but Heaven needed me,” Castiel explained.

“Cas, buddy, I needed you!” Dean whined, quickly regretting his decision.

Castiel looked down, but didn’t reply or step away from Dean, which Dean was happy about; he needed the angel close for what he was about to do.

Reaching through the open window of the Impala, Dean turned the key in the ignition, turning on the car and blasting the radio into the silence of the night.

There were a series of loud, girlish screams, which quickly became an audible countdown.

“10! 9! 8!”

“Dean, what is going on?” Castiel inquired, staring quizzically into the Impala.

“It’s New Years Eve, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, as if that would explain everything.

“7! 6! 5!”

“Yes, Dean, I understand that, but why are they counting down to a new year? What is so special about it? It is only another year, Dean, why are they celebrating it?” Castiel pressed, obviously foreign to the human celebration of New Years.

“Something special happens when the year changes, Cas,” Dean explained mysteriously.

“4! 3! 2!”

“I don’t understand…,” the angel admitted, trailing off and staring at Dean with his beautiful, baby blue eyes. Dean quickly got lost in his eyes, only staying alert enough to hear when the countdown finished.

“It’s like this,” Dean began to explain, pausing long enough for the radio to finish.

“1! HAPPY NEW YEAR”

Fireworks exploded somewhere in the distance, as Dean gripped the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat in his fists and pulled the angel into him, their teeth smashing against each other in Dean’s needy desire.

Taking Castiel by surprise, the angel stumbled a little, falling onto Dean and landing with each of his hands half on Dean’s hips, half pressed against the Impala, rendering Dean trapped. Pulling the angel as close as he could, he pressed his mouth harder against Castiel’s lips; they were the perfect balance of soft and firm, and smooth as fuck. Dean felt light-headed as he kissed him; it was everything he had ever imagined and more.

Dean wasn’t sure who was more surprised; he had only actually planned to talk to the angel, wishing him a Happy New Year. However, that wasn’t exactly how things had worked out. He could sense the angel’s hesitation, and pulled back a bit, just enough to look Castiel in the eye, although he didn’t loosen his grip on the trench coat. He just stared at Castiel, unsure what to do. Should he apologize? Had he come on too strong?

“Is this the celebration that humans take part in on New Years?” Castiel asked, and Dean could hear how out of breath the angel was, which only made Dean’s smile larger, quickly answering the angel’s question.

Dean was about to apologize when Castiel pushed him roughly against the car, kissing him back with much more passion and force then Dean had kissed him with.

Closing his eyes and smiling as he drunkenly made-out with Castiel, Dean couldn’t think of a single New Year’s memory better then the one he was making at that very moment.

#deansscruffyangel #Bee #I LOVE YOU!#<3 #Destiel #New Years #Happy New Years!#supernatural #Dean Winchester #castiel

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