Coming soon to an AO3 near you: my post-canon fic about Cas having a teeny little midlife crisis. Established Destiel. Contains copious amounts of angelic genderfuckery, and Dean doing his little human best to understand. Excerpt:
Castiel runs a fretful hand over the drape of his skirt. Dean doesn’t deserve to be ignored, but he can’t know about this. “Cas, come on, I know you’re pissed at me, but can you just say something so I know you didn’t leave?” Castiel’s tongue feels glued inside his mouth. Fat and useless lump of flesh. He was always more eloquent in his native self and native language, but not being able to force this thing to start even a bad translation is a new low. The door handle rattles. “Cas,” Dean says, and his voice has gone rough and urgent. “You need to tell me you’re okay, right now.” Fear sends his voice higher and introduces a quaver that Castiel knows Dean hates. “I’ll kick this fuckin’ door down, don’t think I won’t!” “I’m here,” Castiel finally manages to say. It’s not enough. But what else is there? A thunk echoes against the wood, and Castiel just knows that Dean has let his head fall against it. “Great,” Dean says, a breathy exhalation so muffled by the door that Castiel almost doesn’t hear him. “That’s great. Can I come in?” “No,” Castiel says, too quickly. Dean is leaning up against the door; there’s a certain energy to him that still registers in Castiel’s diminished senses. Castiel comes forward, boot heels hard on the stone floor, petticoat rustling, and places a hand on the inside. Right about where Dean’s shoulder would be. The buttons on the jacket’s cuff are polished and gleaming in the low, warm light of the room. “No, sure, why would I?” Dean mutters. “Are you… okay?” Tongue thick as it runs over his dry lips. No, he isn’t, and everyone already knows. It’s not what Dean means, of course. He’s trying to ask if Cas is in some kind of active danger, or perhaps if he’s ready to talk. “No,” is the only answer he has, because it’s the answer to all three of those questions. He immediately regrets having answered at all. “Cas.” Dean says the name low and desperate. Like a prayer. “I wanna help, but you gotta let me in. Please.” The truth is, everyone already knows he’s not okay. The truth is, it’s not getting worse but it feels bad enough already. The truth is, it can still find a way to get worse if he continues alienating his family and the love of his stupid, stupid life. Castiel unlocks the door. Pulls it open just a crack, just enough to see Dean’s face. He looks frantic and frightened. Castiel makes him like that. Dean’s face breaks open with relief and he shoves his way into the room.
This fic is finished and will be posted in full by the end of October. If you want to be on a tag list here on Tumblr for when I post the rest of this, please let me know! Otherwise, you're more than welcome to subscribe to me on AO3.
