splintered doorways, wintered graves | whumptober 2021 // to hold you close No. 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger // ao3 // warnings: n/a a/n: rearranging the order a bit because it's been eleven freaking months and these boys deserve some soft on the anniversary, okay. I was gonna write dean alone and aching for cas, who's still stuck in the empty, but you know fucking what. they deserve soft things. yes I know this is whumptober no I do not care here's some touch starved dean and cas forcing him to rest <3 the touch starved-ness is mostly implied but it's there
happy eleven months aaaaaaaa
Dean is much too anxious, Cas determines one Sunday afternoon after his return, and he’s not sleeping. While not entirely out of the ordinary, considering...recent events, Cas does not wish to see Dean so run down and jumpy.
He corners him late Monday morning, after yet another near-sleepless night of wandering the halls and stopping outside of Cas’s room for extended periods of time.
“Dean.”
Dean startles and nearly drops the coffee mug in his grip. It's an oversized ceramic dish Claire had purchased for his birthday, “World’s #2 Dad” printed in blocky text along the side. Dean had accepted it with minimal jabs and used it often. But Dean does not need caffeine today, Cas surmises, noting the pajamas he’s still sporting despite the hour.
Dean needs sleep.
“Jesus, Cas,” Dean huffs, turning back to filling the mug, “sure know how to scare a guy.”
Cas squints at him in exasperation. Dean frowns when he doesn’t answer.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers tightening on the handle as he turns. “Is Jack—”
“Jack is fine,” Cas assures him. “You, on the other hand, are decidedly not.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Cas says sternly as he reaches forwards and grabs Dean’s hand. Dean’s mouth snaps closed. “Come with me.”
“Where we goin’?” he mumbles. He lets Cas pull him along willingly, stumbling after him. Cas squeezes his hand, and doesn’t answer until they’ve reached Dean’s room.
“You need to sleep,” Cas explains, tugging him through the doorway and closing the door behind them, “it is evident you haven’t been getting enough. You’re running yourself ragged, and I won’t allow you to continue doing this.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Cas answers, turning back to him. Dean has that look about him, the one where he’s gearing up for a fight. “You aren’t sleeping—”
“Can you really blame a guy?” Dean snaps, snatching his hand back. He looks like he wants to move further, but he’s locked in place, unable to go too far. “After— we only just got you back, man, and— y-you keep— how am I supposed to trust that you’ll stay?”
Sorrow fills Cas’s chest, threatening to drown him.
“Huh?” Dean pushes when he doesn’t answer. “You keep leaving m— you keep leaving,” he says, and the defeat in his tone makes Cas want to kneel at his feet and beg him to understand: never again.
“Every time, I have come back, Dean,” he says, once again gathering Dean’s hands between his own, thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth across scarred knuckles, “I have always come back, and I have come back to you.”
Dean’s gaze drops to their joined hands. He’s trembling, Cas notes. Cas squeezes his fingers and Dean shudders.
Cas steps closer. Dean doesn’t move.
“Dean,” Cas whispers, tugging one hand loose to rest gingerly against the side of Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes slip closed and he holds himself so carefully still, as if afraid that this is all still some illusion, something he cannot accept.
“Dean,” he starts again, “I meant everything I said before the Empty. Do you understand? I love you. That has not changed.”
Dean’s lip trembles, tears gathering along his eyelashes. Cas traces just beneath his eyelids feather-light with his thumb, swiping the tears away.
“If you don't feel the same, that wouldn't change anything,” Cas says, “I still want only the best for you. Will you let me help?”
“Help how?” Dean croaks. He presses into Cas’s hand. Cas doesn’t even know if he notices that he does it. “All I can see, every time I close my eyes, is you getting swallowed by black goo.”
“Perhaps I could...stay the night?”
Dean’s eyes fly open at that, shocked. “What?”
“I could, I could watch over you, like I used to,” Cas says, suddenly fumbling, heat rising to his cheeks. “And physical contact— in the doula classes, and with Jack, I learned that physical contact is a wonderful stress reliever—”
“You callin’ me a baby?” Dean answers, mirth in the exhausted crinkles around his eyes. Cas rolls his own and sighs, exasperated.
“Shut up,” he says, and walks Dean backwards towards the bed. Dean sits when his knees hit the edge. “Will you let me help?”
“I—I don’t know that it’s going to fix anything, Cas,” Dean says as Cas removes his own slippers and robe, left in boxers and a soft t-shirt he’s found suitably comfortable for resting. Dean swallows thickly as Cas climbs into Dean’s bed, watching over his shoulder as Cas settles. “Aren’t we, uh, a little old for cuddling?”
“Are we?” Cas asks, eyebrow arched, challenging. Dean flushes, but doesn’t move.
“Dean,” Cas says gently, “I’m not going to force you into anything you do not want to do. But you need rest, and I believe this is the best way of doing so.”
“You do, huh,” Dean says, glancing towards the door. Cas hopes he won't run, but he won't stop him if he does. Dean sighs.
“I just,” he starts, voice cutting off, seemingly stuck in his throat. He turns his gaze back down to his hands, facing away from Cas, “I don’t want to...to wake up, and. What if this is all a dream?”
Cas’s chest twinges. He gets back off of the bed, walking around and coming to a stop in front of Dean. He cups his face in his hands and tilts Dean’s face to his own ever so gently, Dean blinking in shock.
“I will not leave you,” Cas promises, voice calm but firm, thumbs stroking across Dean’s cheekbones, “I promise you. I have nowhere else I would rather be than here, with you. If you’ll have me.”
Dean reaches up to grip desperately at Cas’s wrists.
“Of course, I’ll have you,” he croaks, “you’ve always had me, Cas. Always.”
“Dean,” Cas can’t help but whisper, breathless, and he leans forward to press his lips to Dean’s forehead. Dean trembles in his hold, a low keen catching in his throat. “Come lay with me?”
Dean can only nod.
Cas lets him settle against him beneath the covers, holding him firmly beneath the blankets. When Cas slips his fingers into Dean’s hair, he melts, pressing as close as he possibly can get to Cas, gradually relaxing beneath his ministrations.
“I love you, too," Dean whispers into the quiet, eyes screwed shut tight. Cas pauses.
"Dean," he says slowly, fingers hesitantly resuming motion, "I...you do not have to say it if you don't mean it."
"I do," Dean rushes, arm tightening across Cas's chest. "I do. Love you. Have for a long time, I think. It's just..."
"Just what?" Cas whispers.
Dean is quiet for so long, Cas thinks he isn't going to respond.
"It's so big," he finally says, "and I've never...no one ever lasts. But I...fuck, Cas, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, and I...I…"
Ah.
"I understand, Dean," he breathes, turning his head to press another lingering kiss to Dean's hairline. He keeps moving, gently pushing until Dean is on his back and Cas can drape himself over him. Dean lets out a shuddery breath as their eyes meet, Cas bearing down on him.
"I'm here, now," he continues, cradling Dean's face in his palm and leaning down to press a kiss to Dean's temple. "And I am not," he places a kiss to Dean's cheek, "going," one to the corner of his mouth, "anywhere."
He presses their lips together softly, ready and willing to pull back if Dean isn’t willing. Dean whimpers beneath the touch and responds almost immediately, desperate, and Cas forces himself to keep it gentle as Dean clutches at him tightly. They kiss for a moment more and then Cas is pulling away, nosing beneath Dean's chin, peppering kisses against his pulse point and up his jaw to press his lips against Dean's ear.
"We have all the time in the world," Cas whispers into his ear, cheek to cheek, a hand stroking up and down Dean's side, "but for right now I believe we both could use some rest, hm?"
Dean grumbles.
"You know you need it," Cas says, amused, settling back against Dean's side, still leaning heavily upon him. "You're exhausted."
"And you'll... you'll stay?" Dean asks, eyes searching Cas's face.
"Always," Cas whispers, holding him tight.
