Mooglets RP Blog

Dean/Castiel

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Castiel kept his gaze firmly locked on the ground. He’d heard the question; he just didn’t know how to answer it. He had visited Dean, cloaked from the other man’s vision. In fact, he’d probably checked in on him far more than was called for. Even if Dean wasn’t aware of his visits, seeing Dean happy, without pain, grounded Castiel during his times of trial. 

Swallowing, Castiel felt something jerk in his chest as well as Dean made a move to reach out and touch him. It was such a rare moment, for Dean to deign to want to touch the angel, that he felt compelled to at least tell a fraction of the truth. 

“I…” he began, eyes still on the ground. It felt wrong, not to stare into Dean’s eyes while he spoke, but that ever-present feeling of shame wouldn’t let go. “I have visited you, at times when I needed to be reassured that you were happy with your life. I did not want to disturb you by alerting you to my presence…”

Dean’s mind went immediately blank and this time he didn’t stop himself when he reached out and - not even really knowing why - pressed his fingers to Castiel’s forearm. He could feel Cas’ arm through the folds of too-big trench coat, the material rough under his fingers as he pressed them harder. 

“I - Cas you should have - seriously dude,  you should have said something!” His fingers slipped over the fabric and he wrapped his hand around Cas’s arm, squeezing slightly. “I was going mad, Cas. Sammy was dead, you were gone. Everything was over. The damned white-picket-fence dream wasn’t - it wasn’t…” He shook his head.

The year with Lisa had helped him get over his grief. He’d worked, he’d gone with the flow of the life, but that had been all it was. A way to work himself out of the depression he’d slipped into with Sammy gone forever, his last living blood relative, his little brother, the kid he’d pretty much brought up himself. And on top of it, his best friend, the only guy he’d ever been able to consider as such, had just upped and gone back to heaven. Talking to Bobby had been too hard, so he hadn’t even tried. So he’d been left with Lisa and Ben; and they were great. Sometimes he wondered why Lisa had even done it.

But it hadn’t been his life. He’d just been going through the motions of it all. And now Cas say’s he’d visited but not visited.

“Cas, you should have let me know.” His fingers tightened around Castiel’s forearm.

“I needed…I needed-” Castiel sighed and broke his sentence off midway through. He shouldn’t be telling telling Dean this. It was too close to the thing that the angel knew Dean couldn’t know, not without wounding him. Cas knew that Dean expected impossibilities from him, not pragmatic deals with the Devil. 

He forced himself to look up at Dean. It hurt, to do it, but Castiel believed that he deserved the pang of discomfort that it brought him. 

“I needed something that I could not ask of you,” he finally said, gaze wavering before being forced back to Dean’s face. It shouldn’t be this hard to look at the Winchester; it wasn’t right. However, the hand on his arm kept him from going back to what was easy. With Dean clinging to his arm like this, Castiel found that hiding his presence, or staring at the ground, was becoming impossible. 

“When I came to see you, Dean…you looked at peace. I could not disturb you again. I simply came back to check in on you every so often.”

Castiel had, in reality, come to Dean almost every week, trailing along in Dean’s personal space like he was the one place the angel could draw strength from. However, he still remembered Dean’s conversation about ‘personal space.’ The man would probably disapprove, even more so because he was unaware.

“Cas…” Dean gripped Castiel’s arm tighter, almost making an attempt at pulling him closer as he did. He shook his head, choosing to disregard - for now - the fact that Cas had visited without letting him know, had hung around invisible and just watching. 

Instead, he focused on the fact that Cas had wanted help. Castiel had wanted to ask something of him, but held back deliberately. That - that spoke to him in a way he couldn’t quite identify. Something in his chest. 

After a pause, he stepped closer, not letting go of Castiel’s arm, “Cas - you know you can ask whatever. Right? We’re - we’re friends, friends help each other. You gotta know that.” He made sure his gaze was steady, trying to will the Angel to understand him, to believe him. 

Dean/Castiel

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Dean grins as he pulls his wallet out and drops enough cash to cover the meals - as well as a tip for Nancy - and then stands, shoving it back in his pcket again. There’s a warmth growing in his chest that he puts down to hearing from the horse’s mouth that Castiel actually trusts him. Even if it is in regards to trusting him to show him a good time (sans ‘den’s of iniquity’.)

“All right, then. This should be awesome.” 

He waved cheerfully at Nancy as he passed her, paused briefly to be sure Cas was still following him and made his way outside, “I haven’t done this for years. Not since -” He pauses, searching his memory, “Shit. Not since I was sixteen and Dad let me borrow the car to take this girl - what was her name… Rebecca.” He trailed off with a small smile.

Pulling his keys out he gave Cas a brilliant smile, “Yeah. This’ll be fun.” 

Outside, the air was cool and the moon was full above.  It was the sort of night Castiel thought he might not mind just lying out and looking up at it.  He enjoyed the craters of the moon, thought they showed character and history, and he had always considered it one of his Father’s subtlest and most alluring miracles that humans inhabit the Earth at the precise point in geological history when a total lunar eclipse is possible.

Yes, he’d like to lie out and watch the moon, and breathe the night air, and feel the warmth of Dean’s body beside him.

But he’s also happy to follow that brilliant smile anywhere. “Where are we going?” He didn’t really expect Dean to answer.

Dean just grinned at him as he opened the car and slipped in, “It’s out in the open air, with junk food and teeth-rotting drinks that Sam’d disapprove of, great sound, great visual and hopefully not too many other folk about.” 

He opted for putting the music on low for once as he explained to Cas, without actually naming what they were doing. That would ruin the surprise. He just hoped something awesome was scheduled and that the snacks on offer were the typical disgusting stuff Sam raised his eyebrows at. It was always better when the food was pretty much ‘reconstituted scrapings off the sides’. 

Funnily enough, he was already enjoying himself, and they’d not even got there yet. He just hoped - in a distant sort of way - that Cas actually had fun and didn’t get bored and flit off. 

Dean/Castiel

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Castiel should have remained angry. An ‘I miss you’ didn’t balance out all of the grief that Dean had given him over the past day or so, but the angel felt something relax inside his (yes, his, Jimmy was long gone after his first stint with full-body explosion) chest. 

“I did not enjoy that,” he said, remembering the sound of pain the small child had made. “But it was the only way. I told you Dean, I don’t have the time or luxury to worry about those things.” 

Even as he spoke, Castiel’s voice began to tense again. He could say it as much as he want, but the fact remained that despite his best efforts, the emotions he’d developed while on earth still remained. Angels weren’t meant to feel guilt, doubt, or even loneliness, but Castiel was experiencing a heady mixture of all three. 

He fell silent, staring down at the floor before adding on, almost as an afterthought.

“…I missed your presence as well.”

Recognising that antagonising Castiel further, arguing with him over something that had already happened, was a pointless thing to do right now - they could talk it through later, when they were both calm - Dean passed a hand over his face and sighed, shoulders slumping a little, tired all of a sudden.

A spark of something flared to life in his chest when Cas admitted he’d missed him as well. He didn’t know what it was, or what it signified, but it was warm and familiar and just a little bit as if it could choke him. 

He looked at Castiel for a long moment, absolutely unclear on how to continue. He said the first thing that came to mind, “Why didn’t you visit?” He made an abortive gesture, as if to grab Cas’ sleeve, but resisting at the last second. 

Castiel kept his gaze firmly locked on the ground. He’d heard the question; he just didn’t know how to answer it. He had visited Dean, cloaked from the other man’s vision. In fact, he’d probably checked in on him far more than was called for. Even if Dean wasn’t aware of his visits, seeing Dean happy, without pain, grounded Castiel during his times of trial. 

Swallowing, Castiel felt something jerk in his chest as well as Dean made a move to reach out and touch him. It was such a rare moment, for Dean to deign to want to touch the angel, that he felt compelled to at least tell a fraction of the truth. 

“I…” he began, eyes still on the ground. It felt wrong, not to stare into Dean’s eyes while he spoke, but that ever-present feeling of shame wouldn’t let go. “I have visited you, at times when I needed to be reassured that you were happy with your life. I did not want to disturb you by alerting you to my presence…”

Dean’s mind went immediately blank and this time he didn’t stop himself when he reached out and - not even really knowing why - pressed his fingers to Castiel’s forearm. He could feel Cas’ arm through the folds of too-big trench coat, the material rough under his fingers as he pressed them harder. 

“I - Cas you should have - seriously dude,  you should have said something!” His fingers slipped over the fabric and he wrapped his hand around Cas’s arm, squeezing slightly. “I was going mad, Cas. Sammy was dead, you were gone. Everything was over. The damned white-picket-fence dream wasn’t - it wasn’t…” He shook his head.

The year with Lisa had helped him get over his grief. He’d worked, he’d gone with the flow of the life, but that had been all it was. A way to work himself out of the depression he’d slipped into with Sammy gone forever, his last living blood relative, his little brother, the kid he’d pretty much brought up himself. And on top of it, his best friend, the only guy he’d ever been able to consider as such, had just upped and gone back to heaven. Talking to Bobby had been too hard, so he hadn’t even tried. So he’d been left with Lisa and Ben; and they were great. Sometimes he wondered why Lisa had even done it.

But it hadn’t been his life. He’d just been going through the motions of it all. And now Cas say’s he’d visited but not visited.

“Cas, you should have let me know.” His fingers tightened around Castiel’s forearm.

Dean/Castiel

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Dean relaxed further. All right, so Cas did have a point - again - even if he really hated to admit it. Really hated. Still didn’t make his anger and whateverthehell the other unidentified emotion was he was feeling lessen in the slightest. Apparently something about this Balthazar dick just rubbed him up the wrong damn way. 

He ran a hand over his face when Castiel stiffened again, mentioned the war. This was going nowhere, and fast. He watched as the angel tried to collect himself, taking in his tired features - for a brief moment he wondered if Jimmy was still in there, but chased the thought away - and reminded himself he hadn’t seen Cas since - well. Since the apocalypse that wasn’t. 

Well fuck. Dean harrumphed again, taking in the way Cas hesitated, cut himself off and spoke before he knew what he was saying.

“I missed you, Cas.” He pursed his lips as he realised what he’d said, and tried to cover the stupid thing with a gruff, “Never thought I’d see you have to torture kids, y’know?” 

Castiel should have remained angry. An ‘I miss you’ didn’t balance out all of the grief that Dean had given him over the past day or so, but the angel felt something relax inside his (yes, his, Jimmy was long gone after his first stint with full-body explosion) chest. 

“I did not enjoy that,” he said, remembering the sound of pain the small child had made. “But it was the only way. I told you Dean, I don’t have the time or luxury to worry about those things.” 

Even as he spoke, Castiel’s voice began to tense again. He could say it as much as he want, but the fact remained that despite his best efforts, the emotions he’d developed while on earth still remained. Angels weren’t meant to feel guilt, doubt, or even loneliness, but Castiel was experiencing a heady mixture of all three. 

He fell silent, staring down at the floor before adding on, almost as an afterthought.

“…I missed your presence as well.”

Recognising that antagonising Castiel further, arguing with him over something that had already happened, was a pointless thing to do right now - they couldtalk it through later, when they were both calm - Dean passed a hand over his face and sighed, shoulders slumping a little, tired all of a sudden.

A spark of something flared to life in his chest when Cas admitted he’d missed him as well. He didn’t know what it was, or what it signified, but it was warm and familiar and just a little bit as if it could choke him. 

He looked at Castiel for a long moment, absolutely unclear on how to continue. He said the first thing that came to mind, “Why didn’t you visit?” He made an abortive gesture, as if to grab Cas’ sleeve, but resisting at the last second. 

Dean/Castiel

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Dean finished his meal quickly - even for him - all the while watching Castiel. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help himself. Probably just missed the staring contests they got into before the year of living hell. Which was an odd thing to think, now he’d thought it. 

Anyway. Cas actually looked happier. Which was nice actually, the guy - angel, whatever - had been looking worse for wear recently, perpetually ruffled trench, mussed hair and bags under his eyes worse than ever. Not that he would ever admit out loud that he noticed things like that. About anyone. Ever. Nope. 

When he’d cleared his plate, he pushed it out a little away from himself for arm space and leaned on his elbows, smirking at Cas, “So. I got an idea what to do next. Y’trust me?” 

There was an element of the challenge in what Dean said, and Castiel found himself unconsciously rising to the challenge, mirroring Dean’s movements and leaning forward over the table in answer. He, too, found himself just barely smirking - or, at least, with his lips quirking. “I believe I do, yes,” he said.

Their eyes were holding, and something electric was going on there, something warm and exciting playing out in the invisible air between them. Castiel’s skin was starting to prick up into gooseflesh. He drew a long, sucking breath in through his mouth and waited for Dean’s next move.

Dean grins as he pulls his wallet out and drops enough cash to cover the meals - as well as a tip for Nancy - and then stands, shoving it back in his pcket again. There’s a warmth growing in his chest that he puts down to hearing from the horse’s mouth that Castiel actually trusts him. Even if it is in regards to trusting him to show him a good time (sans ‘den’s of iniquity’.)

“All right, then. This should be awesome.” 

He waved cheerfully at Nancy as he passed her, paused briefly to be sure Cas was still following him and made his way outside, “I haven’t done this for years. Not since -” He pauses, searching his memory, “Shit. Not since I was sixteen and Dad let me borrow the car to take this girl - what was her name… Rebecca.” He trailed off with a small smile.

Pulling his keys out he gave Cas a brilliant smile, “Yeah. This’ll be fun.” 

Dean/Castiel

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Mouth already half full of freakin delicious burger, Dean waggled a finger at Castiel and lightly admonished him, “Dude, no bringing Famine up when we’re eatin’ good food. That dick could put a man off his food like nobodies business.” 

He did smile - once he’d swallowed, he’d developed a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Sammy, that told him off whenever he did things Sam declared ‘gross’ - at the way Castiel was clearly enjoying the food. 

As they ate he racked his brain for something they could do that a: didn’t involve a brothel (or anything even vaguely like that) b: was fun and c: could be shared fun in a hick town like this without getting them in the shit with the locals. 

As he grabbed a couple fries he remembered a sign he’d seen as they’d first arrived at the town. Perfect. He relaxed, having come up with the next move and watched Cas as they ate. 

Something had occurred to Dean then, and that caused a pleasant hum to make its way through Castiel’s body for no reason Castiel could tell. Knowing that Dean had something pleasant in his head send an echo of that pleasure into Castiel’s system. This was a feature of their friendship, he’d figured out a while ago, and the strange recursive nature of it seemed to only strengthen over time.

But how would Dean feel about that? Castiel didn’t think he could say out loud that he found it fun (what other word could he use) to watch Dean having fun. That just being in Dean’s presence was as interesting as anything else he had experienced. Watching the reactions in his own body when he noticed Dean’s profile was capturing the light in a certain way….

…enough. He focused his attention totally on the burger to avoid any further thought on the matter.

Dean finished his meal quickly - even for him - all the while watching Castiel. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help himself. Probably just missed the staring contests they got into before the year of living hell. Which was an odd thing to think, now he’d thought it. 

Anyway. Cas actually looked happier. Which was nice actually, the guy - angel, whatever - had been looking worse for wear recently, perpetually ruffled trench, mussed hair and bags under his eyes worse than ever. Not that he would ever admit out loud that he noticed things like that. About anyone. Ever. Nope. 

When he’d cleared his plate, he pushed it out a little away from himself for arm space and leaned on his elbows, smirking at Cas, “So. I got an idea what to do next. Y’trust me?” 

Dean/Castiel

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Dean subsided just a touch, shoulders slumping slightly. He was still pissed, still worried, still exasperated by the way Cas had just let Balthazar leave. But Castiel did kinda make sense. ‘Enemy of my enemy’ and all that. He refused to dwell on what Cas had meant by ‘entertainments’ though. Especially in the tone of voice he’d said it.

“All right - fine - he’s not likely to give the nukes to the other team. Doesn’t mean I’m any less unhappy about it all. What’s to say some other dick doesn’t jump him and steal them?” 

He glanced down at his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder as Cas did, registering that he’d both failed to move the angel and that the angel didn’t even know what he was doing. He snorted gruffly and dropped his hand, “Just.” 

He paused, not quite knowing what he was going to ask, shook his head and harrumphed. “You’ve changed, Cas.” 

“If I cannot find him, it is unlikely that anyone else can,” Cas answered. He didn’t want to dwell on Balthazar’s hobbies as well; drugs and orgies were the last thing he’d intended for his brethren when he tripped up fate. 

If the angel had relaxed at any point, he tensed right back up at the new accusation. 

“I have spent a year at war, Dean. I am still the angel you know.” Though he was still angry, Castiel tried to diffuse the moment, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. The war and his new allies frayed at his patience. The Dean-shaped hole in his life did not help his attitude either. 

“The war is stressful. And I…” Castiel shut his mouth, not wanting to burden Dean with inconsequential things. An angel’s feelings were always inconsequential.

Dean relaxed further. All right, so Cas did have a point - again - even if he really hated to admit it. Really hated. Still didn’t make his anger and whateverthehell the other unidentified emotion was he was feeling lessen in the slightest. Apparently something about this Balthazar dick just rubbed him up the wrong damn way. 

He ran a hand over his face when Castiel stiffened again, mentioned the war. This was going nowhere, and fast. He watched as the angel tried to collect himself, taking in his tired features - for a brief moment he wondered if Jimmy was still in there, but chased the thought away - and reminded himself he hadn’t seen Cas since - well. Since the apocalypse that wasn’t. 

Well fuck. Dean harrumphed again, taking in the way Cas hesitated, cut himself off and spoke before he knew what he was saying.

“I missed you, Cas.” He pursed his lips as he realised what he’d said, and tried to cover the stupid thing with a gruff, “Never thought I’d see you have to torture kids, y’know?” 

Dean/Castiel

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Yeah. No. The trying to get past Cas thing wasn’t working in the slightest. Dean found himself leaning back against the bookshelf even more heavily as Cas crowded in closer, finger quotes framing him in a way that would ordinarily make him laugh. 

When would he ever learn not to piss Cas off, anyway? 

“Didn’t say anythin’ about killing him, Cas. Just. Damn it - the guy’s obviously not exactly on your side, is he?” Dean made an expansive gesture of his own, in the direction of the hallway where they’d had Balthazar trapped, “He’s selling your nukes and you let him go!” 

Ok. So staring Cas in the eyes as he yelled was getting uncomfortable. And seriously, he wanted his space back. He went for option A and pressed a hand to Cas’ shoulder, at the very least attempting to push him back a bit so he could get past. “Seriously, Cas.” 

“He is on no one’s side,” Castiel replied, still tense from the man’s continued prodding. “Though I know the last person he will give those weapons to is Raphael and his followers. If he is so attached to the…entertainments…of the world,” he said the word carefully, trying not to think of the French word for twelve, “I doubt he will aid in its destruction.”

Castiel looked down at the hand on his shoulder. It was rare that Dean touched him. It was rare that anyone touched him, actually, other than in a fight. His understanding of physical cues were even worse than verbal as a result. Not understanding it was a hint to move, Castiel simply looked back up at Dean’s face, head tilting to the side as he ramped up his staring. “I know you’re serious. But I disagree.”

Dean subsided just a touch, shoulders slumping slightly. He was still pissed, still worried, still exasperated by the way Cas had just let Balthazar leave. But Castiel did kinda make sense. ‘Enemy of my enemy’ and all that. He refused to dwell on what Cas had meant by ‘entertainments’ though. Especially in the tone of voice he’d said it.

“All right - fine - he’s not likely to give the nukes to the other team. Doesn’t mean I’m any less unhappy about it all. What’s to say some other dick doesn’t jump him and steal them?” 

He glanced down at his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder as Cas did, registering that he’d both failed to move the angel and that the angel didn’t even know what he was doing. He snorted gruffly and dropped his hand, “Just.” 

He paused, not quite knowing what he was going to ask, shook his head and harrumphed. “You’ve changed, Cas.” 

Dean/Castiel

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Distracted by the expression that passed quickly over Castiel’s features, Dean nearly missed the arrival of Nancy with their orders, her bustling form barely registering to the normally observant hunter. 

Dean blinked, momentarily wrong-footed before finally turning to Nancy and smiling at her as she leaned over, placing their meals before them. “Thanks, Nancy,” he said with real gratitude as he eye’d the food hungrily. 

Nancy clucked her tongue at them both but smiled as she turned away.

“See, this, this right here,” he said with an expansive gesture at their meals, “is exactly why I enjoy these joints so much.” 

Castiel looked down. He had to admit, the cheeseburger looked amazingly appetizing. “Eating is very fulfilling to humans,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I didn’t realize how much until Famine. My vessel was satisfied in ways I hadn’t anticipated.”

It sounded odd to him, in a way he couldn’t articulate, and his mind raced as he tried to gauge the awkwardness of this particular line of conversation. Finally, he opted to dispel the tension in a way he had often seen others do - by grabbing his hamburger in two hands and taking a huge, mouth-filling bite.

Oh, yes, there was that sense of satisfaction.

Mouth already half full of freakin delicious burger, Dean waggled a finger at Castiel and lightly admonished him, “Dude, no bringing Famine up when we’re eatin’ good food. That dick could put a man off his food like nobodies business.” 

He did smile - once he’d swallowed, he’d developed a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Sammy, that told him off whenever he did things Sam declared ‘gross’ - at the way Castiel was clearly enjoying the food. 

As they ate he racked his brain for something they could do that a: didn’t involve a brothel (or anything even vaguely like that) b: was fun and c: could be shared fun in a hick town like this without getting them in the shit with the locals. 

As he grabbed a couple fries he remembered a sign he’d seen as they’d first arrived at the town. Perfect. He relaxed, having come up with the next move and watched Cas as they ate. 

Dean/Castiel

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Dean had no idea how he missed the usual tell-tale sign that Cas had turned up - maybe a year of not hearing the beating of wings had dulled his abilty to pick up on it - but he didn’t realise Castiel was right freakin there, until he was right the way in his personal space and the flutter of feathers gave the Angel away. 

The subtle sound of wings shifting had him jumping slightly, his eyes opening like a shot and he found himself staring straight into Cas’ eyes. “Cas!” 

Of course, being backed against a bookshelf meant he felt a little trapped and he had to either physically push Cas away or deal with it verbally. “Geeze Cas, back off a bit,” his voice gruff as he tried to push past the angel without actually touching him. Not that it was working. 

“What the hell’re you doin’ back here anyway?” He couldn’t help the glare he levelled on Cas, or the truly pissed off tone to his voice. “Thought you’d flitted off to get chummy with your dick friend again.”

Castiel had come to make reparations, but when Dean opened his mouth to snap at him once again, the angel’s mouth tightened into a thin line. There was another sound of feathers behind him as the angel prickled at the insult. What Dean said hurt, so much more so than the names that demons and fellow angels flung at him. 

“I owed Balthazar my life,” he murmured, not moving an inch, “and he let the child’s soul go. I will not kill one of my brothers if it isn’t necessary, Dean. And I do not know what “chummy”  means.”

The word ‘chummy’ was surrounded by physical quotation marks and a spike of irritation in Castiel’s voice. If anything, the angel crowded in closer to Dean, determined not to let this opportunity pass. 

No matter how hard Dean seemed to be trying to make him fly off in a frustrated huff.

Yeah. No. The trying to get past Cas thing wasn’t working in the slightest. Dean found himself leaning back against the bookshelf even more heavily as Cas crowded in closer, finger quotes framing him in a way that would ordinarily make him laugh. 

When would he ever learn not to piss Cas off, anyway? 

“Didn’t say anythin’ about killing him, Cas. Just. Damn it - the guy’s obviously not exactly on your side, is he?” Dean made an expansive gesture of his own, in the direction of the hallway where they’d had Balthazar trapped, “He’s selling your nukes and you let him go!” 

Ok. So staring Cas in the eyes as he yelled was getting uncomfortable. And seriously, he wanted his space back. He went for option A and pressed a hand to Cas’ shoulder, at the very least attempting to push him back a bit so he could get past. “Seriously, Cas.”