Trueform!Cas puttering around in a cornfield, makin’ crop circles, poppin’ the kernels, causing UFO sightings, you know.. the usual for a big ole Cryptid of the Lord
(I dunno if I’ll go this extra with all of them because this took me forever, nor do I think I’ll ever be on time for another prompt again, but I liked the idea :D )
---> Please don’t repost, but tips are always so appreciated, if you like my work.
Tags: Human Castiel, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Sexual Content, The Finale Doesn't Exist, Dean Helps Castiel Feel What it's like to be human
When Castiel closes his eyes all he can smell, all he can hear, is death. He remembers it all. The relentless screams. The voices of the damned and the lost. He remembers praying to fall asleep forever. Praying to fall asleep just to escape. He remembers the shadow of the Empty, engulfing him in black ooze and dragging him away. He remembers the way the vast darkness taunted him, I know who you love, I’ve always known who you love, I’ve always known your true happiness, I’ve always known I’d be the one to take it away.
And he remembers Dean Winchester, broken and bloody, pulling him out of nothingness. Telling him, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, over and over. The rest of it, the ride back to the Bunker in the back of the Impala, graceless and barely alive, is a blur.
The past two days back on Earth are a blur. Everything is the same as it was the night he left, the night he finally confessed everything to Dean. But everything is different. His body is sore and bruised. The scars across his arms and his face, the ones left behind from the void that tried to entrap him forever as Dean struggled against everything to bring him back to this world, aren’t healing the way they would have, before all this. His head is pounding, the pain trailing down behind his eyes, and the pills Dean had given him aren’t working, at least not yet. And he wants to succumb to the exhaustion he feels, but he knows, once he closes his eyes, once he falls asleep, the nightmares will creep back into his brain.
Dean’s bed is softer, warmer, than Castiel had ever imagined it would be. He’d imagined it so many times, the nights when he would sit alone, awake, in the Bunker, while Sam and Dean slept. He had imagined what it would be like, to feel Dean’s body against his, to know that Dean belonged to him, and he belonged to Dean. But now, Dean knows everything, knows how Castiel really feels, and they haven’t spoken a word about it since they’d gotten back here.
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Instead, Dean is asking him if he needs anything every five minutes. Making him toast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and saying that now, since Castiel needs to eat, they can go to that diner on the corner of Walnut and Grove, go get the best apple pie in all of Lebanon. And Dean is sitting in the corner of his bedroom, on a chair he’d moved in from the other room, his face illuminated only by the screen of his phone. “It will be okay, Cas. I’m right here, man. Just close your eyes and you’ll fall asleep eventually. If something happens—another nightmare—I’m here.”
“Do the nightmares ever stop?” Castiel rolls onto his back, focusing up on the ceiling.
“For me they never have. But, you know, maybe you’ll be a better human than me. Maybe they’ll stop for you.” Dean rests his head against the wall behind him. He knows, he’s avoiding what he needs to say, what he needs to do, but he’s afraid that if he tells Castiel how he feels, if he tells Castiel anything at all, the Empty might steal him away again. And Dean he’s had to survive losing Castiel too many times, he knows the next time will be the end of him.
“This is what you do? What humans do? You just lay here, alone with your thoughts, hoping that at any moment you’ll just be unconscious?” Castiel runs his fingers along the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s Dean’s, Dean had given it to him to wear after he’d tried to wash the unrelenting stench of the Empty off him.
“Something like that, yeah,” Dean says. “Being human—it sucks. And I’m not sorry that I saved you, but I’m sorry that you lost all your grace when I pulled you out. I am, I’m sorry.” Dean wants to apologize, for ruining Castiel, like he ruins everything he touches.
“It’s not that bad.” Castiel turns his head toward Dean. “It’s just—different.”
“Not that bad? Why would you want to be a miserable, shitting, human being?” Dean drops his phone down onto the ground. “Why would you want to be like me?”
“You know what I told you—” Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s, but Dean turns his gaze down to the ground. “Every single word of it was true. I meant what I said, every word of it.”
Dean swallows down the anxiety that’s collecting in his throat. He pulls himself up from the chair, and he stands over his bed, over Castiel, in the faded light streaming in from under the door. And he doesn’t know exactly how to put the things he feels right now into words, he doesn’t know how to tell Castiel he’s felt the same way for as long as he can remember, so he lays down next to Castiel, his head on the edge of the pillow, inches from Castiel.
“What are you doing?” Castiel’s legs slip away from Dean’s along the mattress. He wants this, wants this more than anything, but he doesn’t understand if this is what he thinks it is.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe something I should have done a long time ago.” Dean can feel the warmth from Castiel’s body, and it makes him feel like maybe, this is all he needs now. “Why is this not so bad, Cas?”
“Being human?” Castiel can feel Dean’s fingers brush against his spine, and it does something to him he’s felt before, but never this much, never to the point where he feels like he’s on the brink of losing control. “Because—there’s feelings, that are more intense than I could feel before. Food—it just tasted like molecules. But now I can actually enjoy it. There’s—I don’t know, desire?”
“You couldn’t feel that before, as an angel?” Dean slides closer, until his face is almost against Castiel’s on the pillow.
“I could—I did, all the time. It’s just—stronger now, I guess. I used to be able to tell myself I couldn’t, shouldn’t want that with anyone—because of what I was. But now, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to say no, I wouldn’t be able to convince myself not to,” Castiel says. “And I guess—I did experience that—sex—once before, as a human, but, you know, that didn’t end so well when she killed me.”
“WI guess that’s the good part of being human. The sex, I mean, not the getting killed.” Dean’s hand is on Castiel’s arm now, moving down, to his wrist, to his hands. “That minute you let yourself go, with the right person, and your bodies are all tangled up and sweaty together and you reach that point at the same time.” Dean stops, lets himself laugh. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. These weeks, spent trying to get Castiel back, trying spell after spell, until one of them broke through, until one of them let Dean crawl into the Empty, have been sleepless, overwhelming. “I guess what I’m saying is, you’re right, there are good things about being human.”
“Yes. You’re okay with this? Being here with me—in your bed—like this?” Castiel’s body, one that feels almost new and unknown to him, leans back against Dean almost instinctively, because it feels right this way, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. “I can leave if you aren’t.”
“What? No—you’re always fucking leaving me. I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Dean’s fingertips trail along the edges of Castiel’s t-shirt, moving underneath the cotton. “I can help you be human, or feel human, or whatever. If that’s what you need.”
Castiel closes his eyes against the feeling of Dean’s hands touching him in a way they’d never touched him before. “Just tell me what it feels like to finally get something you’ve wanted for so long—to finally have what you know you needed. Tell me what it feels like to be happy, without the threat of death hanging over that happiness.”
Dean is quiet, listening to the sound of Castiel breathing, of Castiel’s heart beating faster as Dean leans over him, their lips nearly touching as Dean says, “It feels confusing—because I can’t believe this is really happening. And it’s terrifying, too, because I feel like what I’ve wanted has been ripped away from me so many times—and I’m so fucking worried it will happen again.” He pauses, lets his hand slip across Castiel’s until their fingers are entwined, and he’s holding Castiel down on the mattress. “But it also feels like maybe something has changed, like maybe I don’t always have to be the one to sacrifice everything anymore. It feels like this—” He kisses Castiel, his lips hesitant, nervous.
But this, this kiss, feels like nothing Castiel has ever felt before. Dean’s mouth is soft and consuming, and the weight of his body against Castiel lets Castiel sink further down into the bed, and, normally, having someone so close to him, would make every single one of Castiel’s nerves on edge, would make Castiel feel like he was committing some violation of Heaven. But now, his fingers run along Dean’s back, as Dean kisses his neck and his chin. “Tell me what it feels like to let yourself go with someone you want more than anything,” Castiel mumbles.
“Are you asking me to tell you what it feels like to come as a human?” Dean tries not to smile, as he pulls at the collar on Castiel’s shirt.
“Yes, tell me what that feels like, to do that, with someone who wants to be with you.” The only time Castiel has ever felt that release, was with someone who was manipulating him, betraying him, and all he wants, is to know what it would feel like, if it was all real. And he doesn’t understand why Dean is doing this right now, or if this is what Dean really wants, but all he knows, is that this human body is pleading, yearning for anything Dean will give him.
“I don’t really know how to describe it,” Dean says, pulling himself up over Castiel. “It’s like this feeling that builds up inside you, when you’re getting right to the edge, when you’re almost there. But sometimes, it feels too good, you don’t want it to end—and you have to try to make it stop, think about something else--but then, you just can’t. And, when it happens, you sort of don’t think—sometimes you say things you maybe shouldn’t, because the words just kind of spill out. When it's over, I don’t know, that’s usually the part where for me—they leave me, or I leave them.”
“Do you feel regret after it?” Castiel’s focus is on Dean, the rest of the room could disappear and he probably wouldn’t even know.
“Probably not if it’s the right person.” Dean lifts Castiel’s shirt from his stomach to his chest, and over his head. Castiel lifts himself off the bed just enough to accommodate Dean, to let Dean move his hands down his now-bare back, to let Dean’s mouth move across his throat and his chest. “I don’t know, Cas—all this talk—why don’t I just show you, and you tell me how it feels?”
“Dean—you don’t have to—”
“I want to. I want to.” Dean rests his chin on Castiel’s stomach. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you get that I feel the same way you do? Now just stop talking and let me do this for you.”
Dean’s mouth moves down Castiel’s stomach, and Dean’s teeth pull at the elastic of Castiel’s boxer shorts, his fingers and his mouth running down Castiel’s body as he pulls the material lower and lower, down to Castiel’s knees. Castiel groans from the feeling of Dean’s lips slowly moving over him, as Dean’s tongue circles along the tip of where Castiel is hard, aching.
“You should have asked for this a long time ago, I would have given it to you,” Dean says, taking him into his mouth. Just the sound of Dean, sucking, almost gagging, as his lips tighten, is enough to make Castiel want to beg for this to never end Then Dean stops, his mouth hanging open around Castiel as he speaks, “Tell me what it feels like when I do this,” before he lets his lips close again, as his tongue rolls along Castiel.
Castiel gasps into the air, runs his fingers along Dean’s hair, pulling at Dean’s scalp. “This feels—like—nothing ever felt when I was an angel, like nothing I could even imagine feeling now as a human—this feels like this—like you’re all I need to survive anymore.” And his eyes meet Dean’s from across his body, and the way Dean looks right now, devouring him is enough to bring Castiel right to the brink.
And he tries to think of something else, like Dean told him, he tries to remember the feeling of being lost in the Empty, the sounds and the smells of decay, the cries of condemned angels and demons. But, now, none of that even matters, it’s all background noise, fading into the way Dean’s face is buried in between is legs. When he comes, he mumbles, Dean, Dean, gripping the back of Dean’s head, holding him like he can never let go, and then pulling Dean back up, along his body.
He kisses Dean, longer and harder, than maybe anyone has ever kissed anyone, and he can taste himself all over the inside of Dean’s mouth.
“So did I describe it right?” Dean lays down on the pillow.
“No—it was much better than you described.” Castiel runs his fingers along Dean’s cheek.
“Do you regret it?” Dean stretches his arm across Castiel, bringing him closer.
“No, not at all,” Castiel says. “I guess you’re just the right person.” “Yeah,” Dean stretches his leg across Castiel’s, the denim rubbing along Castiel’s bare skin. “I guess you’re the right person for me too.”
