(fix-it for 9x03, hurt/comfort, 974 words)
The words wrap around Cas' newly human heart like a vice grip, cold and unyielding. Thoughts fly around his head at the speed of light and with the painful edge of razor blades. Is it because I'm no longer useful? Did I do something wrong? Why don't you want me? Why are you casting me out when I have nowhere to go?
Did you like me better when I wasn't always around?
Dean isn't looking at him, his gaze staunchly focused on the floor, and suddenly Cas can't look at him, either. There are questions he knows he should ask, questions like will you help me out somehow or why are you doing this or even will you keep in touch with me so that I don't have to be completely and utterly alone, but his throat is tight and he can't make the words come out.
Cas knows, logically, that the longer he drags this out the worse and more awkward the situation will become, but his body won't cooperate with his brain's requests to get up and get moving. The wound of Dean's rejection is not physical, but the reaction to it is; his heart pounds painfully and anxiety sends his body shaking as though he's caught in the dead of winter.
Is this what a human's death feels like? he wonders as each shallow breath seems to tighten the coil in his chest. He reaches a hand up to press against the place where his heart is working overtime and feels a deep ache like it's about to give out.
"Cas?" Dean says, clearly waiting for some kind of response. He sounds confused, a little bit impatient, but there's also concern hidden underneath. For just a second, Cas thinks irrationally, you did this. Shocked and remorseful, he dismisses that thought, but the pain digs even deeper with the knowledge that it's Dean who's doing this, the man he's given so much for, the man he cares about more than any other.
The one Cas thought would be there for him.
Again, Dean says, "Cas...?" It's quieter this time, the worry shining though clearer, but Cas isn't really listening anymore. There's a burning behind his eyes that he doesn't recognize, and a strange nauseous feeling fluttering in his stomach. His breaths come shorter and shorter.
I don't understand why this hurts so much, he thinks, and suddenly Dean is at his side, dropping any facade he'd put up before. The man's concern becomes more open than Cas has ever seen, and he belatedly realizes that he said those words aloud. Dean is close to him now, his hands hovering around as if he isn't sure where to put them, and he tilts his head in an attempt to get Cas to make eye contact. Cas does, or at least he thinks he does because his vision is too blurry for him to be sure.
"What hurts, Cas?" Dean asks sympathetically, and Cas doesn't know where to start.
One tear rolls down his face, then another, and Dean carefully wipes them away with his thumbs, his hands framing Cas' face in a way that feels strangely familiar. The touch is soft and gentle, and Cas doesn't understand how Dean could touch him like this after such a definitive rejection. Again, the words echo through his head, you can't stay, and before Cas knows what's happening, the tears are rushing down like waterfalls and his chest is heaving with the force of his cries. His head drops forward into his hands and he can't think about anything anymore except how much everything aches.
Dean says something, sounding urgent and a bit frantic, but Cas can't hear him over the sound of his own gasping breaths and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. A few seconds pass, seconds that Cas is increasingly convinced will be his last, before Dean's arms tentatively wrap around him, his grip gentle but firm. One of his hands is splayed across Cas' back, and the other guides his head to rest on his chest, right over his heart. Dean's pulse is faster than average right now, but still much slower than Cas', his breaths are even and deep, and Cas can feel the vibrations of him speaking even though he can't focus on the words.
He finds himself trying to match the rhythm of Dean's breathing, and gradually his heart slows down until it doesn't feel like it's slamming against his ribcage anymore. As Dean holds him protectively, swaying them both in a steady and calming pattern, Cas slowly comes back to himself, no longer feeling like he's dying. Dean's voice filters back in to his awareness. "...that's it, just breathe with me, yeah? I've got you." The hand that had softly pressed his head to Dean's chest is now running through his hair, and the gesture is absurdly soothing. "I've got you," Dean repeats, and he doesn't let go, not even when Cas' tears stop falling and he stops shaking like a leaf.
"We're gonna figure this out, okay?" Dean promises after a long pause. "I'm not gonna make you leave." At those words, Cas finally relaxes, leaning heavily into Dean's embrace, and he's somehow more exhausted than he remembers ever feeling before; he can barely keep his eyes open, much less move anywhere.
"I'm sorry," Cas mumbles. He doesn't really know what exactly he's apologizing for, but he knows that he feels, once again, like an inconvenience.
Dean hushes him. "Don't apologize for feeling your feelings, Cas."
The words make him smile. "Okay."
Cas falls asleep, right there in the library chair, and when he wakes up he's in a room, and when he leaves to chase the smell of breakfast he sees a hastily scribbled sign on the outside of the door.
snowghoul
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prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines