#the-archdemon-network

wow I’m really early with this one whatwhattt

based on a post I saw on tumblr but I can’t find it so~~

angst out the wazoo

——

"We did it." Sam’s voice rings out with disbelief, echoing throughout the warehouse. He stares over at his brother, who’s face is bloodied but otherwise alright. Sam himself only has a sore arm and a black eye.

He eyes his arm critically. Funny, he thinks. I could’ve sworn it was at least broken.

Dean grunts, about 50 feet away but moving closer. He doesn’t seem to have any serious injuries either, which isn’t what you’d expect after fighting all the summoned Knights of Hell. And winning.

"We won, Sam. We won," Dean says, exhilaration lighting up his eyes.

oh this one is a doozy // here comes more of my crappy writing

anyway yeah pretty angsty bc I’ve been having the worst week of my life and Dean and Cas suffer for it so~~

enjoy?

——

"Hey, Dean, Cas, I think something’s up with the closet… Come check it out real quick?" Sam calls.

Dean grunts and puts down the gun he’d been practicing with. He trudges over to where he heard Sam’s voice come from. Castiel is already there.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asks, peering inside the door.

"It’s the shelf over there, second from the left. It seems really unstable."

Dean saunters into the room, Castiel close on his heels. He squats to check on the shelf, running his hands over the top and sides.

"Sammy, I don’t think anything -"

Slam. The room is shrouded in darkness. Dean can’t even see Castiel. He reaches out blindly, hand coming into contact with the wall. He follows the wall until he touches the door. Maneuvering to find the handle, he tries to open it. The door doesn’t budge.

"Sam? What the hell?!"

"Sorry, Dean." Comes Sam’s muffled voice. "But you and Castiel have been avoiding each other like the plague, and honestly? It’s getting real damn annoying."

Dean swears. “Sammy, mind your own business!”

"It’s become my business! You two won’t even talk to each other! Work it out!" Sam replies, voice becoming distant as Dean hears his footsteps move away from the door.

"Sammy! Goddammit, open the fucking door!" Dean bangs once, twice, three times, each time louder then the last.

When he doesn’t hear the slightest hint that Sam is returning, he sighs, hitting his forehead against the heavy wooden door.

"Dean." Castiel’s timid voice comes from somewhere behind him. "I think I found a light."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Dean growls. "Fucking hit it."

All of a sudden, the room is bathed in a pale light. Dean can barely make out Castiel’s face, not five feet away. The storage closet isn’t big, by any means. Dean slides down the door, sitting down with his back against it. Castiel mimicks his move, and the lowered height makes it easier for Dean to make out his face.

"Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while, doesn’t it?" Dean says, leaning his head back.

Castiel doesn’t respond. Dean waits, and when not even a sound comes from his direction, looks back at him.

It’s the first time Dean’s really got a good look at him since he stumbled into the bunker almost three weeks ago, completely human and dirty as hell. Or as Purgatory, Dean’s mind supplies. He tells it to shut up. Castiel’s’ face is heavily lined, lined with worry, with fear, with exhaustion. He seems to be ages older.

Dean hadn’t even noticed.

"So, uh, Cas," Dean begins awkwardly. "Uh, how you been feeling, man?"

Castiel shrugs, not offering up anything more.

Dean groans; he’d forgotten how rough Castiel’s social skills were.

"Dude. Talk to me." He winces, remembering that the last time he asked, Castiel admitted to feeling suicidal.

"I wasn’t aware you even cared, Dean." Castiel’s’ reply is biting, sharp.

Dean realizes why Sammy locked them in here. If even Dean can notice how off his and Castiel’s relationship is, it must have been doubly obvious to everyone else. Cause although Dean isn’t an idiot by any means, he’s not always on top of things when it comes to emotions and relationships.

"Okay, Cas, we really gotta work this out. We can’t just go on avoiding each other like this."

"Look at that, Dean Winchester wanting to talk about feelings." Castiel laughs humorlessly, eyes rolling.

Dean scowls, eyeing Castiel with annoyance. Ever since he fell, Castiel has been almost unbearably negative - he has a right to be Dean thinks. But this is getting out of fucking control.

Dean looks right at Castiel, and spreads his arms.

"What do you want from me, Cas?"

"Nothing. I don’t need anything from you. I might not be an angel anymore, but I can still fend for myself." Castiel replies, with a sharp glare sent in Dean’s direction.

Dean chuckles. “Right, Cas, that’s why you showed up on our doorstep covered in blood and grime. Because you don’t need us.”

Castiel avoids Dean’s searching glance.

"In fact, why are you still here, Cas? If you ‘don’t need us’?" Why haven’t you just left?" The again goes unspoken. Castiel looks up, looks straight at Dean.

"Dean, you can’t use that against me, you know -"

Dean cuts him off. “What, Cas? What do I know? Cause I got no friggin’ clue here. You fucking left, Castiel! Again and again! What was I supposed to think?”

"Dean… I’m sorry. I never meant to -"

"Oh, save it, Cas." Dean turns his head away, refusing to even look at the hurt in Castiel’s’ eyes.

"Dean… is that what this is all about?" Castiel whispers, voice still sounding too loud in the small confines of the closet.

"What do you mean by ‘this’, Cas?"

"This. You ignoring me, pushing me away, always refusing to get close - is it because you’re afraid I’m going to leave again?"

"No." Dean bites off the word, short and sharp.

"Then why?"

"It’s not that I’m scared you’re gonna leave, Cas. I already know you’re gonna leave… It’s just a matter of time. It always goes this way with us." Dean chokes out brokenly.

Dean hears Castiel moving around on the ground, shuffling closer to Dean with every movement. He feels hands grip his face, placed on the side, while Castiel forcefully tilts his head up, until he has nowhere to look but Castiel’s eyes. He closes his own.

"Dean. Open your eyes."

He opens his eyes, and Castiel is all he can see.

"What, Cas?"

"I. Am. Not. Leaving." Castiel says, enunciating each word carefully.

Dean barks out a short laugh, face still trapped between Castiel’s hands.

"I just - I can’t trust that, Cas," Dean admits, staring at Castiel.

"You will learn to," Castiel growls, forcefully pressing his lips to Dean’s.

Dean utters a startled gasp, eyes widening. As moments pass, and Dean still remains frozen, Castiel begins to pull away. That stirs Dean, and he chases Castiel’s lips, pulling Castiel against him as his back leans into the door.

Castiel makes a soft moan, his mouth opening under Dean’s. Dean eagerly takes the advantage, and presses harder against Castiel. The two get caught up in the push-and-pull, each refusing to submit.

When the kiss breaks, both Dean and Castiel are breathing heavily, their sweaty foreheads presses together.

"Cas-" Dean starts, only to be cut off by Castiel pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I can hear you thinking. Don’t." Castiel whispers, brushing his hand against the inside of Dean’s arm.

Dean groans, still surrounded by Castiel’s body. He pulls Castiel further into his lap, and then instructs him to lie down. Dean closely fits himself to Castiel’s back, both of them facing the door.

"Cas … you know we have a lot to still talk about, right?" Dean mutters into the space where Castiel’s neck and shoulder meet.

"Tomorrow." Castiel whispers back. "We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay."

—

The morning comes, bright and uplifting. Sam walks over to the storage closet, opening the door gingerly, expecting everything to be strewn about. Instead, he sees Dean and Castiel lying together on the hard floor, still fast asleep.

He grins, then, and quietly shuts the door. Walking into the kitchen, he does a mini fist pump, internally cheering himself on.

"Knew they’d get around to it eventually," Sam mutters.

——

yeah no sex I can’t write that sorry