Like Moses and Batman and James Dean
“Dean keeps looking at Cas. He holds the crowbar easy in his hand, grip only tightening in response to whatever subtle changes in the environment he picks up on. There’s nothing different about him today than there was yesterday, and yet–
Dean loves him. Jesus Christ, Dean loves him. He didn’t think it was possible and he told Cas exactly that. Has been telling himself that for years. He fucking loves Cas and he doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s been sitting in his chest tangled up with the permanent knot of grief that resides there, and there are times he can’t tell the difference between the two. They’ve grown over each other, swallowed each other up. Sometimes Dean wishes they had cancelled each other out, opposing forces and all, but fat chance. They had grown into each other and grown out the other side of each other and grown roots in each other. Cas resides in him now and while there’s so much he doesn’t know about himself, if he knows one thing it’s that his soil is too fertile. Cas planted that seed and he watered it and it grew and grew and grew and grew and grew. He can pretend his branches don’t reach for Cas, but he’s been growing towards him since the start.”
“Things return to normal after that, more or less. Dean feels Cas getting closer, a shadow pooling beneath him as the sun rises overhead. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t move closer, either.
Touch normally exchanged between them, once casual, lingers. Dean counts the press of fingers into his shoulder like he would the seconds between thunder, to determine how close the storm is.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/9779321
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