fandom-cryptid

Long time ago in a Verse far, far away... I fanned

Older than your average tumblrina; usually too busy working; used to fanart, fanfic and rp. Currently lurking in these fandoms: Supernatural (Destiel & Cockles), Avengers (Stony), Gotham Knights (CW), The Sandman, The Boys, Our Flag Means Death. Likely to pick up more with time. ;P

1532 posts

Oh Wait. Chewing Chewing Chewing. None Of This Might Make Sense To You And I'm Sorry But It Makes Sense

oh wait. chewing chewing chewing. none of this might make sense to you and I'm sorry but it makes sense to me. mmm. dean on the back porch. he's drinking coffee i think..his brother won't let him spike it. he's inside and he's talking to someone about something. there's a lot of words that have everything to do with what dean's been doing to himself over the past few months, and sam tries to talk quiet and fast, but dean hears him anyway because he's keyed up and also because he's attuned to Sam's movements like that, can't help it. anyway. he's sitting. on the back porch. and his brother won't let him spike his coffee. the view from the backyard is not anything to write home about. the house is in the middle of nowhere and the lawn slopes down a little into woods that crowd the edge of the property. he likes it here, even tho it's landlocked, and nothing like the house he dreams about with a lake and a pier and a little dinghy tied to it and a town not half a hand away, and friends and. well. it's still nice, tho. he's looking at the trees. it's almost time for sunset and they are tall, still things, old things, and it's comforting being around them.

but then the sky splits open.

and there's cas. (and jack. also. obviously.)

but there's cas! is the thing!

he doesn't know what it is, if he's fallen into a stupor of some kind, if he did manage to spike his coffee somehow and he's just forgotten, and considering how his life's been lately, he wouldn't be surprised if that really did happen.

still, his body moves before his mind stops spinning and he pulls cas into his arms. somewhere behind him, he's aware of the house and his brother and the coffee sinking into the porch steps that he'd rebuilt not a week ago. he thinks god, thank god, thank god. says, baby, sweetheart, I'm sorry. says, I didn't think I'd see you again. I don't know what the fuck happened, but I'll — I'll fix it all. I'll fix everything. I'll make it up to you.

he cups cas' cheek and thinks, here, this here is my second shot at this. I won't get out. i won't rock the boat this time. I won't let anything ruin this.

but then cas looks at him like he doesn't understand, like he's a little scared, and his eyes go round and glassy and he says dean? the way he's never said it before, not even in dean's head.

yeah? he says, and his mouth is dry, and there's a moment when cas tilts his head and frowns and dean swears he sees a star light up behind those ridiculous eyes.

oh, cas says, mouth parting in a sigh. and dean's gotta be going crazy because he's back where he's wanted to go ever since sam came to him, but everything feels wrong and his skin itches and the forest is still there, although dean is wishing the lake back with everything in him, and cas is stepping back from him. he's digging his fingers into dean's arms. he's shaking him, and dean feels it in his teeth, weak that he is in this body.

what did you do?! and cas sounds hysterical in a way that should not have been familiar to him, but is, because he's wretched, and he doesn't know how to not destroy the things he loves.

i — he says, and what excuse does he have really, for anything. i —

the door at his back clicks open, and the world comes back to dean, all in a breath.

this is not a dream and this really is cas and dean's touching him like he's allowed to. behind him, footsteps rushing, and the catch of breath.

christ, said in wonder. fucking christ. is it really you?

dean pulls his hands back like he's burned and steps away from the only person that's ever wanted him the way he's wanted them. he stumbles as he slips out of cas' grasp, disbelief, and terror, and worst of all, hope, making his skin buzz.

this is real, he says to himself. (but it couldn't be, could it? maybe he's lost sense of it, whatever real is supposed to he..and now. now cas is here. and he's...empty.) he turns his gaze to his hands, his hands, shaking, but his. they have to be his.

he hears more than feels the scrape of his brother's palm against his shirt.

hey, he says, and he's using that voice on him, the one he uses when he's talking to victims and widows and children that have too much fight in them for their own good. hey, dean, come on. hey.

from far away, he hears, what did he do? and let's just. let's just go inside, alright? we'll talk about it and oh, dean. and that's why I couldn't find you and dean's ears are ringing now, because what the fuck..

what the fuck.

someone leads him back up the wooden steps by his arm, and he kicks the fallen mug onto the grass. he looks behind him and sees the trenchcoat, and backwards tie, and windswept hair and tired, tired eyes and behind him, another face, one dean's tried to erase from his mind like a coward, now pinched and pitying, and dean cannot take it, feels like he's going to explode. (like a ripe melon on the sun.)

he frees himself of his brother's grip. turns to face cas again. it's me, cas says, before he can say anything. really me. and dean says, do you remember? was it you in there, too? and cas says, not all of it. not really. it's complicated. and dean looks at the face, and thinks about him the last time they were this close, and alone, and running from death and God, the way tears pooled in his eyes.

i hurt you, he says and cas presses his lips together. swallows. says, yes.

and dean says, and it was you.

and cas says, yes.

and dean steps back, breathing hard. says, god. god. says, I'm sorry. and cas' lips turn up on a corner, a small smile that is all sadness, like forgiveness sits in his lungs, all the time, like it is easy as breath. dean can't take that either. dean wishes cas would get mad, for once. wishes he would raise his fists like he used to, wishes he'd stick the right end of hsi blade in his heart, and let him sink into his lap.

but cas is cas, and cas is good, and dean cannot — should not — be here.

I'm sorry, he says again. turns on his heels and takes off.

he drives for a day and change, sleeps in his car under an overpass, until he ends up somewhere cold and by the ocean (idk where!!!) and he climbs up one of those cliffs and sits there watching the water like silk in the night, and letting the wind slice his skin, and trying not to let thought take form in his mind.

dean thinks he's barely calmed down when he hears the snap crackle of electricity and the beating of wings and cas appears at his side, his sleeves rolled up and his trenchcoat open and his knees under his chin.

dean doesn't know what to say to him. so he says nothing. an eternity later:

it isn't like that, cas says. i don't remember everything. i don't *know* everything. just...images. snippets. feelings.

dean clenches his eyes shut. then, broken, and wet, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't live with myself. I didn't know how to do it. without you.

and cas is silent. when he speaks, his voice is deeper, and cracking just a little, I didn't think. i didn't think you would care. so much.

and dean laughs, because why would he have thought that. what reason did dean give him to think that.

yeah, he says. yeah. no. I know.

cas' hand trembles when it lands on dean's shoulder. the same one that he's marred twice now.

tell me about it, cas says. the good stuff. the — the breakfasts and. and the holidays. the boat. fishing. he breathes, even though he's never needed to. leans towards dean, like he can't quite bear the weight of his own body. please. dean. tell me —

I loved you, dean says, abrupt. twists his torso, and cas is so close, he's practically breathing into his mouth. it comes out harsh, and strange and not at all like the soft thing that dean had been chasing through everything. he shakes his head. lifts a finger to touch cas' cheek. it feels real, so real. skin and stubble and warmth. he tries again, pressing his voice into the shape of his feelings. I loved you. and you loved me. that — that was it. for a while. that was the good part.

cas says nothing, and dean takes the moment to finally let his eyes wander up to his face. to finally look. the moonlight paints him in shadows, and dean folds his index finger under his thumb, lets himself trace the cut of his cheek with it. in the night, Cas' eyes are grey and blue and bright, and they sinks into his skin, rippling into soft folds. precious things, cushioned in lines and laughter and time.

cas' lips tremble. I forgive you, he says. for the bad part. for all the — for everything else.

dean can't help himself. he leans his forehead against Cas' presses his crooked nose into his cheek. lets his hand slip to the back of his neck.

you shouldn't.

is that what you want? cas asks. for me to be angry?

[the muses are breaking up with me. also it's 2 am and I have work tomorrow.]

but basically. sth sth. cas saying something along the lines of. im angry. im so angry. but it's like he's angry at dean for doing the things he was doing and he's angry that dean never told him how much he was keeping inside and he's angry that he's home and dean fled from him (godbless this man he's so stupid <3 he really said torture what) and he's like and i will be angry for the rest of my life if that's what you want but please. please come home with me.

and dean says. okay. and cas says okay?

and dean says okay.

love confession. kisses. etc.,