It Feels Awful To Feel Awful. Thankfully, He's Got Meatlug

it feels awful to feel awful. thankfully, he's got meatlug

fic set during s5 where dean prays to cas because he’s going a little crazy, alright, with everything that’s going on and at least cas doesn’t give him those looks that sam and bobby have been giving him lately, the ones that say are you really up for this, really, something happened to you in hell, didn’t it, and are you sure you can shoulder this? because dean is tired of that shit. course he’ll shoulder any burden that comes his way. that’s what he does, that’s what he’s for. but anyway for some reason he has a direct line to this nerdy angel who’s bigger than his body and all sizzling electricity and also a lot of adjectives dudes don’t use to describe other dudes. it’s not like anyone has to know.

anyway this angel sits next to him on the ratty old bed, they’re leaning against the squeaky, metal headboard and they have to kind of press up against each other to fit, and there’s no reason for him to be here, absolutely none at all, but dean….. yeah, dean is currently showing him his ivory grip colt. “dad let me pick her out when i was 17”, he says, voice scratchy, aiming for casual. he turns the gun over and over in his hands. pretty. lethal.

“oh”, cas says. “i guess i feel a… kinship of sorts with my blade, too. we’ve been through much together.” it slides out of his sleeve, smoothly. wordlessly they trade weapons and dean ain’t even… ain’t even worried about the fact that this supernatural being holds his gun carefully in his hands. dean wonders if he always touches things so gently. he shivers and wonders if the touch which left a handprint behind was of a gentle nature, too. outside, the sun is about to rise. he hasn’t slept. there’s a shoulder next to his and dean could rest his head on it if he wanted to.

he wants to.

wc 360, established destiel, kid!jack, angst

It's dark when Dean realizes he's crying.

He comes back to himself slowly. The migraine is still raging. His hands are white-knuckling the quilt. Tears have left his face dry and tight. His throat is so tight it's a miracle he's still breathing.

Is he breathing?

He must be.

Everything hurts.

Downstairs the front door opens and closes, letting in cold air along with a high pitched voice. The heat kicks on, covering up the low rumbled response.

Dean's throat closes impossibly tighter. They're going to find him and expect an explanation. But what explanation is there? How can he explain tears after spending the morning at the library with his husband and their son? After an afternoon playdate at the park? After spending a day in the November sunshine that melted yesterday's snow?

Footsteps pound up the stairs and Dean doesn't even try to hide.

"Dean?" A small voice says from the doorway. Dean looks up to see his son hesitate. He gives the boy a pitiful smile. Jack slowly approaches, the winter air clinging to him. He sandwiches Dean's face with his two little hands.

"We brought pizza."

Fresh tears spill from his eyes and Jack nods before turning to shout, "Da–ad! Can we eat upstairs?"

"Jack, you know the rules! We eat at the table!" Cas' voice carries up the stairs.

"I think we should eat up here tonight! It's DEFCON 5!" Cas was right, Jack was too young to watch the Office.

Dean blinks and Cas has taken Jack's place, hands sandwiching his face and all. Blue eyes full of worry search his and Cas nods too.

"Today was overstimulating, wasn't it?"

Dean feels his whole body clench as his face screws up and a sob escapes. Cas pulls him into a hug and they rock back and forth. Cas is talking but Dean can't make out any words. Jack returns with supplies for dinner and they settle on the rug beside the bed. Dean leans against Cas' chest; feels the rumble as he talks to Jack.

A plate is set on his lap.

Jack puts the sausage from his pizza on Dean's. Cas gives him the bacon.

Dean isn't hungry.

If it keeps you from killing yourself it's not stupid. This applies to anything btw.

We deserve a Midam spinoff. I don't care if it's a low budget web series that Jake Abel does on his YouTube account or a full fledged TV show dedicated to Adam and Michael finding each other again, we deserve it.

ever since I was a young lad I knew I wanted to be a middle-aged man with an undone tie around his neck who’s having a crisis so he goes to the bathroom to splash water on his face only to look up at himself in the mirror and wonder at the stranger looking back