Here’s my ficlet for the tenth and final gif in this gifset. Many thanks to @inacatastrophicmind for the inspiration. Here on AO3!
He wants to do more, say more, but now isn't the time. God damn it, it's never the time. He saw Cas's eyes flicker to his lips as he moved in to embrace him. When his arms had closed around Cas's warm body, they'd fit together like a matched set. Every instinct had told him to hold tight and never let go. He had wanted to bury his face in Cas's collar just to feel his grace thrumming over his skin like a pulse. He knows what he wishes he'd done, but he hadn't. He tells himself it just wasn't the right time.
When Sam starts moving towards the passenger side door, Dean catches him in his gaze with laser focus. Sam looks startled for a moment, but rolls his eyes when Dean nods aggressively at him towards the rear door. Moving towards the back seat he tells Cas he should sit up front. He'll be more comfortable there. What he doesn't say is that he'll be more comfortable there, able to look over and see him, reach over and hold him. He doesn't do it of course, but he could. If the time were right.
The drive back to the bunker nearly sends him into insanity. It's far too long, with roads too winding, and light too dim to provide him with enough visual distraction. All he has are his thoughts and Castiel breathing beside him. Breathing. Existing. Living. He almost drives off the road at one point and Castiel reaches out with lightning speed and corrects the wheel, his hand overlapping hotly with Dean's. It stays their too long, but he pulls it away too soon, and part of Dean is left wishing the car had just crashed. The time wasn't right for that either, apparently.
Eventually, they make it home, but now there's Jack to contend with and Dean just doesn't want to bother. As selfish as it is to want to deprive the Nephilim of his right to meet Castiel, he wants the angel to himself right now. Feasibly, those two have eternity to bond, but Dean only has from right now until the rest of his life and suddenly that is massively insufficient. There's never time for anything and then it's gone.
Dean can't let it go. There's too little left and he's letting it drift away like a balloon on the wind. But Castiel has to meet Jack first and Dean stands far away so he can more easily fight down the rising tide of urgency roaring through his blood. He tells himself that it's working but he knows it's not. Anyone could tell he's not himself right now, standing a million feet from his best friend and barely speaking a word. All he can focus on are Cas's eyes, and lips, and shoulders. His whole being fills the room and Dean can barely attend to anything else. If Dean can't be alone with him soon, he will certainly implode.
Except now Jack has found another case for them to go on. It sounds amazing, almost like a vacation. For him at least. Cowboys and Cas. Nothing could make for a more incredible case. Nothing except Cas actually being his, if he'll have that, of course. And with that realization, it's finally the time.
"Why don’t we hit the hay and head out tomorrow morning? Sam and I could use some sleep before we head out on another one."
"I'm good with that." Sam answers quickly. "Night everyone."
"Can I stay up and talk with Cas some more?" Jack asks innocently. Dean knows he doesn't sleep much, but tonight is not the night for that.
"Nah, kid. You're gonna need to be rested up for the case, too."
Jack acquiesces easily, though disappointment reads on his face as he disappears down the hall to his room. They're alone then, finally, for the first time since Castiel turned to face him at the phone booth seven hours ago. Cas is staring at him, his blue eyes wide and uncertain as they stand in silence and experience being in one another's space once more.
"Hello, Dean." His deep timbre breaks the quiet and the corners of Dean's lips lift automatically in response to the familiar greeting. He hadn't said it before by the booth under the dark sky and Dean had felt its absence like a yawning hole in his chest, unfilled by tradition.
"Hey, Cas." He answers quietly, his voice bashful and warm. His feet are carrying him around the corner of the table, his need to maintain the distance between them no longer necessary now they're alone. Tiles pass slowly beneath his steps until only one lies between the black leather toes of his boots and the brown leather toes of Cas's. He doesn't pass that final boundary, merely standing in Cas's space and taking in his presence.
His face is the same; a canvas of war weary lines and happy crevices, untidy stubble and warm lips. He holds himself the same; head slightly bowed atop broad, proud shoulders. Feet planted, blissfully unmoving.
Only his eyes are different, changed in a way Dean isn't certain he can name, only feel. Where once looking into their blue depths had left Dean feeling chaotically out of sorts, he now feels calm, as though his ship has weathered a storm that has finally broken. Looking into Cas's eyes, Dean had never felt steady on his feet, always questioning whether the stone he'd stepped upon would turn beneath him or hold true to it's foundations. Now though, the blue is unwavering and Dean is its cornerstone.
"I thought you were going to bed." Cas says, his voice low and even. Nothing in his steady pitch should reveal anything, but Dean can feel an energy beneath his words, coiled tight and waiting.
"I want to." He replies. "But I can't."
Cas's eyes are fixed intently on his now, unwavering and utterly entranced. "Why not?"
"I've spent too many nights alone, Cas. I don’t want to go alone." His voice is barely a whisper, but it's imbued with the force of all that he's felt while Cas was gone. Desperation, longing, loneliness, love. There's not half a tiles' width between their toes now, and Dean feel Cas's breath on his jaw when he speaks.
Parts [i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii] [viii] [ix] [x] [xi]
