#rosa writes

When the feeling comes to him, Cas immediately knows who it is - Claire, many miles away, alone in her room. The yearning flares and flickers in his too-human chest. He brings up his cellphone and calls her that night. They speak together quietly, talking about nothing, until her voice loses the teary-thick edge and becomes mumbled with the need for sleep. Cas reaches out with his grace - the feeling is subdued now, simmering quietly, slowly ebbing away. After a skipped beat, Cas asks, “Is everything alright, Claire?” Claire pauses. For a moment, Cas worries he’s said something wrong. “I’m good now, Cas,” she says, finally. “Thanks for calling.” After they hang up, he texts her a flower emoji and a cat meme he finds on the internet. Claire texts back, u are so embarrassing, but reacts with a heart on the meme. After that, the longing abates. ** When he tells Dean about it, he whips around towards him, eyes wide. “You feel longing? Like - how?” “It’s... hard to describe,” Cas says. “It’s like hearing a silent prayer.” Dean nods slowly, swallows, then turns back to his laptop, suddenly engrossed in whatever is onscreen. After a minute, he opens his mouth, but whatever is on his mind, he never gets to say it - Sam enters the motel room before he can, carrying a large pizza, and tells them about the lead he accidentally stumbled upon. Cas sits with the feeling while they talk, only half-listening to their conversation. It lingers there, quietly, with an undercurrent of restlessness that he never manages to place. He doesn’t know how much Dean is aware of it. It never fully goes away, no matter how much they talk, no matter how many times Cas needles the thoughts and worries out of him, and it builds up like an ache, a constant reminder that he may never fully understand him. The longing remains, like a small wound that never heals up. He doesn’t tell Dean this, and they don’t talk about it again. ** It flickers again, and Cas looks up. Sam is looking down at his hands as he is leaning on the impala, worrying his lower lip. Cas walks around the car and settles next to him. He watches Dean inside the gas station, who he knows is taking an unnecessarily long time to avoid both of them. The car ride has become unbearably tense after a snappy argument between the brothers, about what Dean considered to be Sam’s needless recklessness on the case. Cas wasn’t sure if he had helped or made it worse by taking Sam’s side - in any case, they had both earned a cold shoulder from him. “Dean is an ass when he’s worried,” Cas says. Sam side-eyes him, then huffs out a laugh. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, he is.” The conversation drifts onto other things. Last week’s terrible movie choice, groceries they need to pick up, the book Sam is getting through. Finally, Sam goes quiet again. “You know,” Sam says, “I know you've said you struggle to understand humans, but you really have developed a sixth sense for when I need someone to talk to.” Cas doesn’t know what to say to that. Sam shoots him a smile, and claps him on the shoulder. “I’m just trying to say I appreciate it, man.” Cas smiles and says, carefully, “I’m glad I can help.” “You help by being there,” Sam says.  Cas wonders about that. For a second, he considers telling Sam - how his presence around Dean seems to make it worse, how he never seems to be able to say or do the right thing, and that no matter what he does, the yearning remains.  Sam is easier - always is. When Dean finally walks out of the gas station, still looking sullen, Sam’s shoulders are less tense than before, and the longing is gone. In the car, Sam and Cas continue their conversation about the book, and when they get home, Cas grabs Dean in the kitchen.  “What,” Dean says. Cas gives him a look. The longing simmers, quiet and restless. Dean heaves a sigh. “I’ll talk to him.” “Apologise,” Cas says. “Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, waving his hand dismissively. He glances back up at Cas, eyes flickering down his face. The feeling pulses in Cas’ chest, entangling with his own emotions, a swirl of heat that he quickly squashes down. By the end of the night, they are all on good terms again. Later, Dean insists on another movie after Sam has gone to bed. His leg rests against Cas’ thigh and doesn’t move away once, and Cas tries to avoid thinking about that - about the feel of him, the heat radiating from him, and the yearning still pulsing softly between them. ** It culminates in an argument, as things between them often do.  “You don’t get it,” Dean growls. “Dean,” Cas says, exasperated, anger rising in his chest, “You don’t talk to me, how am I supposed to get it if you don’t tell me?” The feeling is thrumming between them, hot and biting, and it flares angrily every time Cas speaks, as if his words keep fanning the flames. Cas had followed Dean to his room - determined to fix it, whatever it was, and is reminded with every second that he can’t. “Oh, spare me,” Dean snaps. “I know you use your angel psychic mind reading powers, don’t give me that crap!” “Dean. I can’t read your mind,” Cas says, running a hand down his face. “I told you, that’s not how it works!” “Come on. Every time I-” Dean swallows, tearing his eyes away from him. “You come to me, every time. I know you can tell. I don’t say anything, but you come. You know what I’m talking about.” Cas shakes his head. “Dean.” He steps forward, but Dean holds up a hand in the space between them, stopping him.  “I’m not precious, Cas,” he says - his voice breaks, betraying him. “You know how I feel and it’s - too much. I don’t want to be pitied.” “Dean,” Cas says, hopelessly. “I don’t understand what you are saying.”  Despite himself, Cas can feel his eyes water, emotions too large, too human, ones he has never managed to categorise or identify, feeling all of a sudden too much for his human body, the one which is supposed to belong to him now and yet feels so alien. ”I try, Dean,” Cas says. “But I don’t know what you need. Please,” he begs, “just tell me.” Dean looks up again, meeting his eyes, and the feeling expands, heady. His eyes are soft, unreadable, but the anger has gone. The air is thrumming, pulsing with it, almost impossible to breathe in. Dean steps forward, and then they are inches away from one another.  “You’re an idiot, Cas,” Dean says, and then his lips are on him. The air hums, the yearning expands - and then, as Cas grabs Dean’s shirt, sighing contently into the kiss, it finally settles, warm and sated in his chest.

the fact that dean’s love language is gifts. how he grew up prioritising his little brother never going hungry at the detriment of himself, constantly moving from place to place with only what he could carry, how he is severely protective over the objects he keeps. the fact that he put together a mixtape for cas, which are a bitch to make and can take hours and hours to complete, because he wanted him to have a physical extension of him, a reminder of him. the fact that he would have given cas a cassette player with it, which cas wouldn’t know how to use, and how he probably had to step forward, flustered, putting the earbuds in for him, pressing play and watching cas’ face carefully as the song began, heart thumping loudly in his ears. how hurt he’d been when cas had tried to return it to him later, clearly not understanding the meaning of it, and maybe, he’d think to himself, it was because angels weren’t able to feel things that way, because that thought made it hurt less. how he probably couldn’t stop giving cas little gifts, despite it feeling heavily one-sided, simply because he could, because he wanted cas to have them, and because saying it out loud was out of the question. a book, a movie, a song, over and over, i love you, i love you, i love you.

alright so, i am putting a place for the left behind on a brief hiatus. it turns out that being at the last push to finish my exams and my undergrad, applying for scholarships for postgrad, taking an additional class, working part-time, and being the only one at home to care for my (still sick) dog and three cats, has predictably turned scheduled dates for fic posting into a stressor rather than a fun past-time :))) which is a surprise to absolutely no one but me. so i gotta find some way to take the load off, and this is it. i look forward to posting some stuff in may, including an extra short dean pov standalone! thanks so much for your support and patience ❤️