Fic: A Moment's Comfort
Jan. 6th, 2012 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fandomcornerTitle: A Moment's Comfort
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1500
Summary: Dean is drunk and desperately reaching out. Castiel offers what comfort he can. Inspired by this art but a little more angsty than initially intended
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hsapiens and monteseverus for the beta
How do you convince a man he is worthy of being loved when he loathes himself so much he’d rather kill himself trying to make others happy than attend to his own needs? It’s a conundrum that Castiel has been battling since that first, surprising moment when instead of being grateful that Castiel had plucked him from the fires of Hell Dean had expressed guilt at being saved at all. From there it had been an ongoing battle to break through the walls Dean has built up around himself. He’s not sure he’ll ever fully succeed, given the way Dean is around his own family and his closest friends.
But Castiel is millennia old and if anything he knows patience. So he watches, and waits, and chips away at that wall whenever he can. At least now Dean considers him his friend, and that’s a start.
What Castiel does notice is that occasionally Dean lets his defences down. This, he suspects, is why Dean has come to be so dependent on alcohol. It’s a mechanism that allows his actual personal feelings and desires to manifest from where they are usually buried so deep.
It’s in a haze of whiskey in a motel room one night that Castiel, silent and hidden from sight, watches as Dean pulls his brother into a rough and clumsy hug.
“I love you, Sammy. I don’t say it enough but I do. Even after the lying and Ruby and everything else you’re still my brother and I love you, okay?”
He attempts to ruffle Sam’s hair but instead almost pokes him in the eye and Castiel can’t help but match Sam’s fond and indulgent smile as he steers Dean over to the bed and lets him sleep it off.
This is the Dean that Castiel wishes he could see more of, the Dean that remains buried deep most of the time and that Castiel becomes more resolved to draw out.
* * *
Only a couple of hours pass before Dean rises, caught in the throes of a nightmare that Castiel had not been fast enough to prevent from happening. He watches as Dean reaches for the bottle with a shaking hand, almost filling the cheap motel tumbler to the brim before taking a gulp. He’s still obviously intoxicated from the way he stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and then instead of returning to his own bed he sits on the end of Sam’s and starts poking his leg.
Sam lets out a muffled sound and buries his face deeper into his pillow. Dean pokes him again and this time Sam kicks him, sending Dean sprawling onto the floor. For a moment Castiel wonders if Dean is just going to curl up and sleep there and decides that if he does Castiel will move him back to the bed discreetly before moving on.
Instead, however, Dean staggers back to his feet and fishes his phone out from his pocket. For a moment Castiel freezes wondering, no, hoping he will be on the receiving end of Dean’s phone call.
“Bobby?”
Castiel’s heart sinks a little.
“Sammy doesn’ want to talk to me so I’m talkin’ to you instead.”
Castiel can’t hear what Bobby is saying on the other end of the line but it’s easy to fill in the gaps.
“No, I dunno what time it is. Late I guess?”
He watches as Dean winces and holds his phone away from his ear. He still can’t hear what Bobby’s saying except for a very loud ‘idjit’ right before there’s a click as the line goes dead.
Dean stares at the phone in his hand, a frown on his face as his brain apparently struggles to process the fact that there’s no longer a voice at the other end of the line. He pours himself another drink and sighs and punches in another series of numbers.
This time Castiel’s phone does ring.
He doesn’t even bother to answer it and instead simply allows himself to materialise on a plane of existence where Dean can actually see him.
Dean’s face lights up. “Cas! I knew you’d come! You always come when I call because you’re awesome like that.”
Before Castiel can even think of a suitable response Dean has crossed the room and thrown his arms around him. It’s a moment of firsts for Castiel. It’s the first time he’s ever been hugged by a human, it’s the first time Dean has ever shown any kind of affection towards him and it’s the first time he’s ever noticed what Dean smells like (a mixture of whiskey and cologne at this moment).
Castiel wants to express displeasure that he was third on the list of people Dean called, or that Dean only ever seems to call when he needs something but the truth of the matter is he can’t seem to find it in himself to be upset. Having Dean in his arms like this, even if it’s while Dean is intoxicated, is the most pleasant thing he has experienced since he rebelled from Heaven. Possibly even the most pleasant thing in the whole of his existence. He’s seen enough television, courtesy of Dean, that he knows the correct way to respond when being hugged is not to stand there rigid as he is doing at the moment. He allows his arms to wrap around Dean and hold him close, savoring each second of his hug as though it’s his last.
Now Castiel is unsure of what needs to be done, but he does know Dean sounds sad and lonely and Castiel wants to offer what comfort he can. He gently pats Dean on the back and tells him that it’s okay, even though he knows it to be a lie.
“I love you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, breath burning hot against Castiel’s ear when Dean speaks. There’s an air of desperation to the words, as though Dean feels something terrible will happen if he doesn’t say them.
On all the television shows and movies he’s seen the hug is usually over quickly, or changes into a kiss. He briefly wonders how Dean would react to being kissed right now. Would he be repulsed or would it be like the countless encounters Dean has had with women where he simply pretends it hasn’t happened? Then of course there’s the small and however unlikely chance that Dean wants this as much as Castiel does. The very thought makes Castiel’s grace sing inside his vessel and for one insane moment he considers trying regardless of the consequences.
His tongue slips out and moistens his lips in anticipation. Dean lets out a soft murmur and certainly isn’t doing anything to extract himself from Castiel’s arms.
“Dean. . .”
The answering sound is a thud behind Castiel’s right shoulder as the glass Dean had been holding hits the floor. A moment later Dean’s legs buckle and he slumps into Castiel, forcing him to take all of Dean’s weight in his arms.
“Dean?”
Dean’s eyes are closed now, his cheeks flushed and a small smile curled on his lips as the sound of Castiel’s voice simply causes Dean to nuzzle his face into Castiel’s chest.
Castiel didn’t need to read his thoughts to know that Dean had finally succumbed to the alcohol and exhaustion and was now sleeping deeply. He likely wouldn’t wake until morning.
He shifted Dean’s weight in his arms before lifting him and carrying him over to the bed, knowing full well that Dean would hate him for carrying him like a child and tucking him in. Fortunately for both of them it was likely Dean wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
“Cas. . .” Dean reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist when Castiel had finished tucking the blankets around his shoulder. “Don’t go. Want you. Want you here with me.”
For a moment Castiel thought about leaving, in fact he knew that he should to resume his quest to find God. But his present situation was a result of him never being able to deny Dean anything and this was no exception.
He removes his coat and his shoes and lies down on top of the covers next to Dean, who immediately rolls over and wraps his arms around him, sighing contentedly before falling still again.
Castiel is going to make sure he is gone before either Sam or Dean wake up, but for now he’s content to enjoy the moment and the memories of this night will keep him going during his search. Whether Dean realizes it or not he has lightened Castiel’s burden a little tonight.
The End.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1500
Summary: Dean is drunk and desperately reaching out. Castiel offers what comfort he can. Inspired by this art but a little more angsty than initially intended
Thanks to
hsapiens and monteseverus for the betaHow do you convince a man he is worthy of being loved when he loathes himself so much he’d rather kill himself trying to make others happy than attend to his own needs? It’s a conundrum that Castiel has been battling since that first, surprising moment when instead of being grateful that Castiel had plucked him from the fires of Hell Dean had expressed guilt at being saved at all. From there it had been an ongoing battle to break through the walls Dean has built up around himself. He’s not sure he’ll ever fully succeed, given the way Dean is around his own family and his closest friends.
But Castiel is millennia old and if anything he knows patience. So he watches, and waits, and chips away at that wall whenever he can. At least now Dean considers him his friend, and that’s a start.
What Castiel does notice is that occasionally Dean lets his defences down. This, he suspects, is why Dean has come to be so dependent on alcohol. It’s a mechanism that allows his actual personal feelings and desires to manifest from where they are usually buried so deep.
It’s in a haze of whiskey in a motel room one night that Castiel, silent and hidden from sight, watches as Dean pulls his brother into a rough and clumsy hug.
“I love you, Sammy. I don’t say it enough but I do. Even after the lying and Ruby and everything else you’re still my brother and I love you, okay?”
He attempts to ruffle Sam’s hair but instead almost pokes him in the eye and Castiel can’t help but match Sam’s fond and indulgent smile as he steers Dean over to the bed and lets him sleep it off.
This is the Dean that Castiel wishes he could see more of, the Dean that remains buried deep most of the time and that Castiel becomes more resolved to draw out.
* * *
Only a couple of hours pass before Dean rises, caught in the throes of a nightmare that Castiel had not been fast enough to prevent from happening. He watches as Dean reaches for the bottle with a shaking hand, almost filling the cheap motel tumbler to the brim before taking a gulp. He’s still obviously intoxicated from the way he stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and then instead of returning to his own bed he sits on the end of Sam’s and starts poking his leg.
Sam lets out a muffled sound and buries his face deeper into his pillow. Dean pokes him again and this time Sam kicks him, sending Dean sprawling onto the floor. For a moment Castiel wonders if Dean is just going to curl up and sleep there and decides that if he does Castiel will move him back to the bed discreetly before moving on.
Instead, however, Dean staggers back to his feet and fishes his phone out from his pocket. For a moment Castiel freezes wondering, no, hoping he will be on the receiving end of Dean’s phone call.
“Bobby?”
Castiel’s heart sinks a little.
“Sammy doesn’ want to talk to me so I’m talkin’ to you instead.”
Castiel can’t hear what Bobby is saying on the other end of the line but it’s easy to fill in the gaps.
“No, I dunno what time it is. Late I guess?”
He watches as Dean winces and holds his phone away from his ear. He still can’t hear what Bobby’s saying except for a very loud ‘idjit’ right before there’s a click as the line goes dead.
Dean stares at the phone in his hand, a frown on his face as his brain apparently struggles to process the fact that there’s no longer a voice at the other end of the line. He pours himself another drink and sighs and punches in another series of numbers.
This time Castiel’s phone does ring.
He doesn’t even bother to answer it and instead simply allows himself to materialise on a plane of existence where Dean can actually see him.
Dean’s face lights up. “Cas! I knew you’d come! You always come when I call because you’re awesome like that.”
Before Castiel can even think of a suitable response Dean has crossed the room and thrown his arms around him. It’s a moment of firsts for Castiel. It’s the first time he’s ever been hugged by a human, it’s the first time Dean has ever shown any kind of affection towards him and it’s the first time he’s ever noticed what Dean smells like (a mixture of whiskey and cologne at this moment).
Castiel wants to express displeasure that he was third on the list of people Dean called, or that Dean only ever seems to call when he needs something but the truth of the matter is he can’t seem to find it in himself to be upset. Having Dean in his arms like this, even if it’s while Dean is intoxicated, is the most pleasant thing he has experienced since he rebelled from Heaven. Possibly even the most pleasant thing in the whole of his existence. He’s seen enough television, courtesy of Dean, that he knows the correct way to respond when being hugged is not to stand there rigid as he is doing at the moment. He allows his arms to wrap around Dean and hold him close, savoring each second of his hug as though it’s his last.
Now Castiel is unsure of what needs to be done, but he does know Dean sounds sad and lonely and Castiel wants to offer what comfort he can. He gently pats Dean on the back and tells him that it’s okay, even though he knows it to be a lie.
“I love you, Cas,” Dean murmurs, breath burning hot against Castiel’s ear when Dean speaks. There’s an air of desperation to the words, as though Dean feels something terrible will happen if he doesn’t say them.
On all the television shows and movies he’s seen the hug is usually over quickly, or changes into a kiss. He briefly wonders how Dean would react to being kissed right now. Would he be repulsed or would it be like the countless encounters Dean has had with women where he simply pretends it hasn’t happened? Then of course there’s the small and however unlikely chance that Dean wants this as much as Castiel does. The very thought makes Castiel’s grace sing inside his vessel and for one insane moment he considers trying regardless of the consequences.
His tongue slips out and moistens his lips in anticipation. Dean lets out a soft murmur and certainly isn’t doing anything to extract himself from Castiel’s arms.
“Dean. . .”
The answering sound is a thud behind Castiel’s right shoulder as the glass Dean had been holding hits the floor. A moment later Dean’s legs buckle and he slumps into Castiel, forcing him to take all of Dean’s weight in his arms.
“Dean?”
Dean’s eyes are closed now, his cheeks flushed and a small smile curled on his lips as the sound of Castiel’s voice simply causes Dean to nuzzle his face into Castiel’s chest.
Castiel didn’t need to read his thoughts to know that Dean had finally succumbed to the alcohol and exhaustion and was now sleeping deeply. He likely wouldn’t wake until morning.
He shifted Dean’s weight in his arms before lifting him and carrying him over to the bed, knowing full well that Dean would hate him for carrying him like a child and tucking him in. Fortunately for both of them it was likely Dean wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
“Cas. . .” Dean reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist when Castiel had finished tucking the blankets around his shoulder. “Don’t go. Want you. Want you here with me.”
For a moment Castiel thought about leaving, in fact he knew that he should to resume his quest to find God. But his present situation was a result of him never being able to deny Dean anything and this was no exception.
He removes his coat and his shoes and lies down on top of the covers next to Dean, who immediately rolls over and wraps his arms around him, sighing contentedly before falling still again.
Castiel is going to make sure he is gone before either Sam or Dean wake up, but for now he’s content to enjoy the moment and the memories of this night will keep him going during his search. Whether Dean realizes it or not he has lightened Castiel’s burden a little tonight.
The End.
