#deancas fanfic
don’t wanna fall asleep without you
word count: 1,381 (continued under the read more), also posted on ao3A day and a half after Cas has been rescued from the Empty, he realizes he needs sleep. But that… well, it’s easier said than done.
Even though his body is exhausted, a fatigue that makes Cas feel dizzy with its potency, every time he tries to fall asleep, his brain is flooded with the Empty; wrapping around him and pulling him down down down into darkness, into pain, into cold loneliness and complete despair.
He tries to fight through it. Tries to dig his fingers into the warm bed sheets of his bed and feel the soft pillow cushioning his head. But the comforts are short lived. It isn’t enough to fight the creeping inky blackness as it swallows Cas whole again and again.
So instead, he forces himself to wander around the Bunker until the exhaustion is unbearable; until he collapses and falls asleep leaning against the jukebox in Dean’s cave or curled up in the hallway outside of Dean’s room or in the garage with his head against the drivers door of the Impala.
He wasn’t aware of it at the time. How he finds spaces that are etched by Dean’s presence or his energy. How, even in his fatigued conscience, he gravitates towards Dean’s essence.
And he shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. If his brain wasn’t so fuzzy, he would scream at himself to stop falling for this agonizing torment.
Dean doesn’t love him back. Otherwise Dean would’ve said something when he rescued him… wouldn’t he? But he didn’t; he just kept touching Cas’ shoulder and repeating that Cas was home home home. And Cas can live with that. He can. He told Dean his truth, and everything else is out of his control.
That’s the hardest part though. Accepting that he isn’t an Angel like he used to be. He can’t control fate and choices and destiny like he used to. Or maybe he never could. Maybe it was all Chuck. Not that it matters anymore. Not that his tired brain can process it anyway; his sleep-addled brain is unreliable and makes decisions he wouldn’t make if he were more awake.
Especially because it’s late, and now it’s a week after his escape from the Empty, and he’s leaning against Dean’s chair in the Dean cave, and now he’s seeing Dean crouching down in front of him and, oh, what a beautiful mirage he is, and oh, Cas’ heart clenches in his chest because Dean is beautiful and God, Cas wants him and he loves him and it’s too much too much too much.
The words sound unreal in Cas’ ear. “C’mon Angel. Let me take care of you.”
And that can’t be real. Because he’s not an Angel anymore. Or maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. Some powers remain and some have been sucked away by the tendrils of the Empty.
But the hands on his skin feel warm and tender as his body is floating up up up and then there’s a guided walk to his room and a hand slowly helping him into bed as sheets are tucked softly and carefully under his chin.
“I’ve got you,” lingers in the air, and Cas can’t tell if the words are spinning in his head, fabricated by his own desires, or if they were ever even spoken aloud at all.
A soft brush of lips to his forehead, a hand resting against his shoulder, and a weight lingers on the other side of the bed. “Sleep, Cas. You’re safe. I’m not letting anything happen to you ever again.”
Cas finally allows sleep to lap at his subconscious until he’s lulled into peace.
When his eyes flutter open again, the room is quiet. There’s no presence by his side. He’s in his own bed with the sheets tucked around him. He can’t remember how he got here; if he fell asleep in his bed all along, or if, in his weary state, he managed to stumble his way back to his own room before passing out. But there’s no Dean perched at the end of his bed. Just a mirage invented by his exhausted brain. It aches so deeply in Cas’ chest that he doesn’t know how to cope. It feels like it’s cracking his ribs apart and tearing his heart from his chest.
Cas vows never to sleep again.
the benjamin franklin key-and-kite experiment
summary:
“Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.”
The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?”
Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.”
-
Or 1.12 but Dean’s faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas
Read on AO3
Dean takes his time, running his fingers over the banister of the porch. The white paint is chipping and worn down, but the wood, he can tell, is quality. No splinters, no cracking, no warping. It’s nice. He drags in a deep breath, his senses flooding with the scent of pine trees as the warm early-autumn air blows through them. The sky is clear, save for a couple little puffs of cloud here and there. And as his eyes scan the sky, he waits for it – that impending sense of doom and dread. Even when he’s trying to relax, it’s always there, bubbling beneath the surface. There’s a reason he’s slept with a gun under his pillow for three decades.
But he’s struck with the sudden realization: it’s not there. All he feels is calm and peace. Something he’s never really known.
Well, that’s not true, he silently amends.
He felt peace with Cas.
Frowning, Dean drops his head and closes his eyes. Cas… Fuck, he misses him. He misses everything about him. He misses telling Cas jokes that land like a fucking brick in front of him. He misses the tie that’s always askew. He misses that mess of hair. He misses those eyes Dean can, and often has, get lost in. He misses that trench coat. He misses Cas, plain and simple. And while he feels calm and peaceful here… it does feel like a piece of him is missing. It’s probably not supposed to. Not here. But it does.
It’s comforting to know he escaped the torment of the Empty… but, “Damn it, Cas,” he breathes, wrapping both hands around the banister.
“Hello, Dean.”
Standing suddenly, Dean opens his eyes and whips around. Cas is standing beside the battered screen door, smiling warmly at Dean. “Cas,” he breathes, his eyes wide as he looks him over, like he’s taking inventory of all his favorite things. Messy hair, check; crooked tie, check; trench coat, check; breathtaking eyes, check… Cas, check. “It’s–”
“Yes,” Cas nods. “It’s me.”
Dean surges forward, throwing his arms around him in a crushing hug. He buries his face against Cas’s neck and closes his eyes, breathing him in. It’s another thing he’d previously forgotten to add to his list of things he missed. That clean, earthy smell that was somehow distinctlyCastiel.
When he pulls away, his hand slips down Cas’s arm to his hand, his thumb brushing the inside of Cas’s wrist. He heaves a breath, the line between his brows deepening. “You’re a dick, you know that?” He says suddenly.
Cas blinks in surprise and tilts his head. “I– what?”
Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “You drop somethin’ like that on me and then just fuck off to the netherworld?”
“I wasn’t in the Netherworld, I was–”
“In the Empty, whatever. You’re still a dick.”
Cas lifts his eyes to the ceiling of the porch, as if the answer to Dean’s outburst is written there. “I still don’t underst–”
“You drop that on me and then you die, and you didn’t give me a chance to say anything.”
“I didn’t think there was anything for you to say.”
Dean scoffs, incredulous. Didn’t think there was anything for him to say? “What show have you been watching, huh?”
“I haven’t been watching television.”
Though outwardly, Dean appears frustrated, he fucking missed this. But something suddenly occurs to him. “Wait.” He shakes his head, those lines between his brows growing deeper. “You really didn’t think I’d have somethin’ to say? You didn’t think I–”
“Reciprocated?” Cas says. He frowns, casting his glance downward. “No, Dean. I didn’t.”
“Well you’re dead wrong.”
One corner of Cas’s lips turn up in a smirk. “I believe we’re both deceased now.”
Scoffing, Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Yes,” Cas’s smile widens, “I believe I did.”
“Alright, listen.” Dean grasps the back of Cas’s neck, his fingers brushing up into his hair. There’s no sense of fear or uncertainty welling up inside of him anymore. He’s in Heaven. He gets what he wants. There’s no fear of judgment or self-sacrifice anymore. He’s just gonna fucking go for it. “I love you, Cas. I shoulda said somethin’ a long time ago, but I-I-I was scared, okay? I’m sorry. But–” He cuts himself off and glances out over the farmhouse’s property; the sprawling lawn (that he can’t wait to mow) surrounded by lush trees; the path that leads to the garage that houses Baby. The house he’s always imagined for himself, but always knew wasn’t a possibility. “This is about havin’ peace, right?” His gaze turns back to Cas’s, and he swallows the emotion rising in his throat. “We get forever here.”
“That is the idea, yes.”
Dean licks his lips and takes a step closer. His shoes bump Cas’s, and his hands slips further into the back of Cas’s hair. “Then that means I get forever with you, right?”
Cas is smiling, and he pulls his free hand out of the coat pocket. He grabs a fistful of Dean’s jacket and Dean watches his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, Cas’s eyes roaming Dean’s face. “Of course, Dean.”
Dean breathes out in relief. All at once, that feeling that a puzzle piece was askew; the feeling that something was missing dissipates. Forty-one years of sacrifice and loss earned him this: a life of peace with the love of his life – the love that had come completely out of left field and left him breathless. Forty-one years of sacrifice and loneliness and loss earned him the love of a millennia-old angel who thought he was worth something. Worth everything.
He kisses Cas then. It’s soft and slow and gentle. There’s no sense of urgency or fear or desperation behind it. It’s being lovingly handed what he’s always wanted; what he’d always been missing. And, well… he’s in Heaven, so that makes a whole lot of sense.
When they part, Dean keeps his forehead against Cas’s, and they’re both smiling. Finally, Dean rocks back enough to meet Cas’s eyes. He tips his head toward the house and raises a brow. “Wanna come in. Stay a while?” He presses his lips together and shrugs. “I’m thinkin’ maybe forever?”
“I’d like nothing more.” Cas smiles, and Dean feels warmth flooding his chest. In Cas’s smile, Dean feels content. He feels like he’s home. He’s waited his whole life to feel like this. He tried, with Lisa and Ben, but that piece of the puzzle just wasn’t there. He tried with the Bunker, and while he loved that place… there was always just something not quite right. But here, he has Cas. He feels calm. He has no feeling of cosmic obligation or the feeling that he’s running the clock. He has everything he’s ever wanted.
For the first time, and for the rest of time, Dean Winchester is at peace.
Hello, beautiful people, I just hit 700 followers!
To celebrate, because I’m back on my DeanCas bull shit and #cantstopwontstop, send me asks with your headcanons or mini prompts, and I’ll write you a drabble!
I just remembered I signed up for the DeanCas Tropefest ♀️
The roller coaster of fandom drama over the last few weeks has scrambled my brain.
What trope should I pick? Help!
Good decisions
A Destiel biological BDSM fic
Dean has lived under the pretence of being a switch since he presented as a teen twenty years ago. He gets by, but his body makes ignoring his true designation harder and harder the older he becomes.
Enter Castiel, a dom so different to everyone Dean has ever been with. Can he help him embrace his submissive side in a healthy way?
I posted a fic! It’s a little cuddle pollen/cuddle or die piece of Destiel fluff for your (I hope) enjoyment
cuddle up a little closer
Rated T | 3.4k
Dean gets hit with a potion that makes him sick, and the only cure is…cuddling. Well, that’s different.
Dean can’t think it might be something more while they’re cuddling.
Except… Maybe this is the perfect time to think about it.
cuddle up a little closer - gothyringwald - Supernatural (TV 2005) [Archive of Our Own]
