oh this one is a doozy // here comes more of my crappy writing
anyway yeah pretty angsty bc Iâve been having the worst week of my life and Dean and Cas suffer for it so~~
"Hey, Dean, Cas, I think somethingâs up with the closet⌠Come check it out real quick?" Sam calls.
Dean grunts and puts down the gun heâd been practicing with. He trudges over to where he heard Samâs voice come from. Castiel is already there.
"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asks, peering inside the door.
"Itâs 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 donât think anything -"
Slam.
The room is shrouded in darkness. Dean canât 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 doesnât budge.
"Sorry, Dean." Comes Samâs muffled voice. "But you and Castiel have been avoiding each other like the plague, and honestly? Itâs getting real damn annoying."
Dean swears. âSammy, mind your own business!â
"Itâs become my business! You two wonât 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 doesnât hear the slightest hint that Sam is returning, he sighs, hitting his forehead against the heavy wooden door.
"Dean." Castielâs 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 Castielâs face, not five feet away. The storage closet isnât 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 weâre gonna be here for a while, doesnât it?" Dean says, leaning his head back.
Castiel doesnât respond. Dean waits, and when not even a sound comes from his direction, looks back at him.
Itâs the first time Deanâs 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, Deanâs mind supplies. He tells it to shut up. Castielâsâ face is heavily lined, lined with worry, with fear, with exhaustion. He seems to be ages older.
Dean hadnât even noticed.
"So, uh, Cas," Dean begins awkwardly. "Uh, how you been feeling, man?"
Castiel shrugs, not offering up anything more.
Dean groans; heâd forgotten how rough Castielâs social skills were.
"Dude. Talk to me." He winces, remembering that the last time he asked, Castiel admitted to feeling suicidal.
"I wasnât aware you even cared, Dean." Castielâsâ reply is biting, sharp.
Dean realizes why Sammy locked them in here. If even Dean can notice how off his and Castielâs relationship is, it must have been doubly obvious to everyone else. Cause although Dean isnât an idiot by any means, heâs not always on top of things when it comes to emotions and relationships.
"Okay, Cas, we really gotta work this out. We canât 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 donât 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 Deanâs direction.
Dean chuckles. âRight, Cas, thatâs why you showed up on our doorstep covered in blood and grime. Because you donât need us.â
Castiel avoids Deanâs searching glance.
"In fact, why are you still here, Cas? If you âdonât need usâ?" Why havenât you just left?" The again goes unspoken. Castiel looks up, looks straight at Dean.
"Dean, you canât use that against me, you know -"
Dean cuts him off. âWhat, Cas? What do I know? Cause I got no frigginâ clue here. You fucking left, Castiel! Again and again! What was I supposed to think?â
"Dean⌠Iâm sorry. I never meant to -"
"Oh, save it, Cas." Dean turns his head away, refusing to even look at the hurt in Castielâsâ 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 âthisâ, Cas?"
"This. You ignoring me, pushing me away, always refusing to get close - is it because youâre afraid Iâm going to leave again?"
"No." Dean bites off the word, short and sharp.
"Itâs not that Iâm scared youâre gonna leave, Cas. I already know youâre gonna leave⌠Itâs 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 Castielâs eyes. He closes his own.
He opens his eyes, and Castiel is all he can see.
"I. Am. Not. Leaving." Castiel says, enunciating each word carefully.
Dean barks out a short laugh, face still trapped between Castielâs hands.
"I just - I canât trust that, Cas," Dean admits, staring at Castiel.
"You will learn to," Castiel growls, forcefully pressing his lips to Deanâs.
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 Castielâs lips, pulling Castiel against him as his back leans into the door.
Castiel makes a soft moan, his mouth opening under Deanâs. 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. Donât." Castiel whispers, brushing his hand against the inside of Deanâs arm.
Dean groans, still surrounded by Castielâs body. He pulls Castiel further into his lap, and then instructs him to lie down. Dean closely fits himself to Castielâs 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 Castielâs neck and shoulder meet.
"Tomorrow." Castiel whispers back. "Weâll talk about it tomorrow. 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 theyâd get around to it eventually," Sam mutters.
yeah no sex I canât write that sorry
and yeah tfios reference whatwhattt