#amnesia!dean

[threshasketch]

In which Amnesia!Dean hits on Sammy.

[bijoharvelle]

Hi! If you’re so inclined, I’d love dean/cas with amnesia!dean and love confessions 🥰

It’s not a spell or a curse or a punishment for God or anything like that. It’s just...a knock to his head.

The doctor promised that it would be a temporary thing, that it happened all the time, that Dean was fine and they should just take it slow. Cas resented her certainty and her knowledge. He once could heal Dean with a single touch but without that power, he knew nothing of human fragility and how to manage it.

Sam said it happened all the time, that it was even a “trope” in “rom coms.” Cas is not comforted. 

Dean is largely still himself and remembers a lot. He knows his name, who Sam and Cas are, that he’s a hunter. He still knows how to cook and still knows not to let Sam attempt it. Cas tries not to fuss over him but it’s hard, he finds, not to worry. He worries about Dean cooking and about Dean showering and about Dean driving. They’ve taken a brief break from hunts, much to Dean’s dismay, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about that.

And one night they’re -- He’s not walking Dean to his bedroom. They’re just walking down the hall together, at the same time. It’s a coincidence. Sam made them watch one of those “rom coms” featuring amnesia, mostly as a joke, and Dean is still laughing over one of the scenes. 

They stop at Dean’s door and Cas smiles, tries not to think about something happening to Dean in his sleep. “Good night.”

And then Dean’s hand is on his wrist. He looks up and finds Dean smiling, soft and sure. It’s not a look they’ve shared often, maybe ever. “You don’t have to,” Dean says. The tips of his ears and cheeks are pink and he’s shifting his feet a little, nervous, but still smiling.

“Don’t have to...worry about you?”

“No, I mean. You can stay. I mean, I think I figured it out. We...got our act together, right? Or, at least, I got the guts up. We’re-- Cas, you don’t have to pretend to try and not freak me out. I think I got it. We’re together, right?”

His hand has loosened a little so it’s not grasping Cas any more just...holding his hand, really. His fingers move slow and delicate along the swell of Cas’s palm and he’s leaning into Cas’s space a little. Swaying forward. 

“I don’t want you to sleep alone tonight, Cas. I...don’t want to sleep alone tonight, okay?”

It would be easy. Skip the mess of it all coming together and just agree. But it’s been a decade and more and if he’s going to get this, Cas wants every second of it.

“Dean,” he says and it’s so soft. He moves forward a little and Dean’s back is against the wall, a breath of space between them. “No. We did not ‘get our act together.’ Neither of us got the guts up.” He watches as Dean’s face shifts, from soft affection to confused to wide-eyed terror. Before he can open his mouth and apologize or backtrack or anything else, Cas goes on. “But I don’t want you to sleep alone, either.” 

It’s not that Cas has been afraid or rejection, not really. He’s known that they’ve been dancing around this for so long. He just wanted to be sure that it was something Dean was ready for, something that Dean would accept and allow himself to have. 

“Cas... I...” Dean’s jaw is tight, eyes on their feet. 

Cas fits his hand against Dean’s cheek and tilts his face so he can see the smile on Cas’s face. “Dean. I’ve loved you for quite a long time, and I’m very old. I can wait.”

Dean sputters a minute, hands coming up to hold on to Cas. Their eyes meet. Dean smiles. “Well, maybe I can’t.” Cas smiles.

The kiss is even-matched and gentle. The hallway is dim except for the tracking lights by the floor and Dean’s hair is soft from slouching on the couch. His fingers wind in the loose knit of Cas’s sweater, tugging them even closer until their hips meet. Cas exhales.

Neither of them sleep alone that night.

[saucynewf]

Regarding Dean | 12.11

[saucynewf]

Regarding Dean | 12.11

[speckledspout]

It was rash and impulsive and so completely stupid but he couldn't help himself. His hands were shaking, heart thudding out of his chest but not because he was seriously about to do this, no it was because there was a chance that Dean might not react at all. There was the chance that he wouldn’t push Sam away exclaiming that they were brothers and that brothers don't do that. Much like he did when Sam first kissed him.

Dean didn’t react for several seconds, his body rigid and frozen underneath Sam’s hands as Sam kissed him and then Sam’s heart seemed to break even more because Dean was kissing him back now except it wasn’t Dean at all.

This man, this person who was supposed to be his brother, was kissing him back but it was so unfamiliar that Sam hardly recognized it.

I mean, it was Dean. The man that he was kissing and who was kissing him back, was Dean except it wasn’t. How could it be Dean when everything that ever made him was stripped from his mind and had just been completely forgotten?

It hurt, physically pained Sam to kiss Dean, this version of him because Dean was wanting more. He grabbed handfuls of Sam’s shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss becoming more desperate and Sam couldn’t do this.

He pushed Dean away, using more force than what was honestly necessary because his heart was being crushed inside his chest.

Dean frowned, looking so completely confused. Confused at how Sam could be the one that had started the kiss, had been the one to kiss him with this fevered urge and now he was pushing him away. And things were going so good.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, taking a step backwards, holding out his other hand to keep Dean a safe distance from him.

When had Sam ever tried to keep Dean an arm’s length distance away from him?

“Just... just stay here.” Sam begged, hand shaking and then he turned, his lungs collapsing behind his ribcage and left the room, leaving Dean standing in between those two beds, one made and one still messed up from the night before.

30/365