A WHORE IS A WHORE IS A WHORE

“You left!” Dean explodes suddenly, all pent-up emotion breaking through and tearing down vulnerable walls he spent years building up. They’re all demolished in the span of two broken words. But he’s too angry, too hurt, and can’t bring himself to care.

So he keeps going. “You left me!” he yells. “Every single time, Cas! I told you in Purgatory that I needed you, and what do you do? You fucking leave me. And then in the crypt it happens all over again. I said I needed you, goddammit, and you left me alone and confused without a word.”

Dean’s moving closer to Cas now, unable to stop the words from coming even if he wanted to. They’ve needed to be said for too long now. “I don’t just say stuff like that, Cas. That was a first for me, and I’ve never needed someone like I needed you—still need you—and I was and am fucking terrified, and both times you just up and left. Jesus, man, you could have at least had the good graces to tell me no before going, or even just saying something. You left me and gave me the biggest rejection letter of all time, so yeah, maybe it’s stupid, but excuse me for being a little bit hurt.”

Dean is inches from Cas and Cas is just staring at him, expression unreadable. The silence that follows just makes Dean all the more pissed. “Well,” he bites out through his teeth. “Are you gonna say something? I mean, you know how I feel about you. Or are you just gonna take off?”

And shit, Cas’ façade is breaking and what’s left standing there is an angel who looks so incredibly lost and… sad.

“Great,” Dean mutters, turning his back and beginning to walk away. The last thing he needs is Cas pitying him. That would just be salt in the wound. “Okay then. Go on. Fly. We can pretend it never happened.”

“I love you,” says Cas, his voice made of gravel.

they always have. they shake from fear–not during the fight, no, dad made sure his hands were steady when he held his gun. but they shake after, when he allows himself to swallow and realize just how afraid he had been.

they shake from drunkenness. sometimes so badly that he can hardly pick up the bottle to take another swig. he puts his head in them and can feel how they tremble while the familiar images flash in his mind–mom dying, sam dying, cas dying, everyone he loves dying, dying, dying and him being unable to stop it.

they shake from adrenaline. because cas is standing just a little too close, staring just a little too long. he should be used to it by now. and he is, in a way, but he can’t help but feel that they’re at the precipice of something huge. at the edge of a cliff that he’s one second from jumping off of. his hands shake because the words are on the tip of his tongue, pressing at the roof of his mouth to get out. his heart is beating too hard and he’s so close, they’re so close.

they shake from desire. the first time he touches cas’ hip, the knobs at the bottom of his spine. he’s nervous, and that’s not helping, but he’s never pressed his palms and run the pads of his fingers upon anything as breathtaking as cas. cas, who saved him. cas, who saves him everyday, who is saving him right now. he presses his mouth to the angel’s neck, willing his hands to be steady enough to undo the buttons on cas’ shirt.

Amy Beager (British, b. 1988)

Perfume, 2021