Destiel (One Shots)

He's In Love...

Word Count
4,800

Tags
/BLANK/

Writer's Notes
You might want to drop the size down to all the way, it's the best size to read this.
I abused my ability to make gifs, and when I say 'abused' I mean ab/used to my advantage. 👀 Thank you so much for the 23k, y'all are angels! I guess this could be considered a gift.

Summary
...With Humanity.)

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means that someone can get inside and mess you up." —Neil Gaiman

Coda would be Last Episode Of S15,
They beat God himself and survived, but now someone has to take on the responsibility of heaven.
Castiel once commanded an army of angels and that army voted him to take God's place. But before the angel leaves, there's still some unfinished business.
_______________________________

They saved the world.

It's over.

Yet, after all that, from the beginning to the end, it didn't feel like it was the end, or maybe it's that Dean didn't want it to be over... Because once it's over—everything changes.

Facing Chuck in the hellfire they reunited, no longer separated, they put aside their differences to fight off the wrath that rain down upon the earth. They locked hands staring down the barrel of God's gun. Had they not, God would have won.

And Dean remembered thinking in their (what could have been final moments) that if this was the end, at least he stood fighting beside his brother and best friend.

If they'd died, would there be any regrets? Things left unsaid, memories they wish they could rewrite or forget? Dean had a few—hundred, at least.

A face or two he should have stabbed, he wished he could have been a better brother and son, a better friend, more patient and forgiving... A better lover to the ones who loved him.

Maybe that's why the Winchester takes a pause and cries, feeling tears warm the corner of his eyes, he tries to understand where he went wrong, putting the pieces together through ruptured emotions.

...They don't fit with his effort alone.

He keeps the water lodged between his sockets, luckily with his head tipped against his pillow, nothing can drip down, only sink into the back of his skull.

Dean sniffs out a breath, pulling on the collar of his henley, ripping a button out from the amount of force he uses, he had to see if he's still bleeding.

Dean is in distress. The man now clawing at his face, hair and chest with white knuckles, scared there's more than scars that litter his body.

When Dean looks down, the first thing he notices is that pesky chest hair that's somehow darker than all the other pieces. Now it's time to take note of the absence of scars and open wounds.

Dean slips a hand up his shirt to feel his chest bare underneath polyester, his fingers move smoothly and dryly up his muscular abdomen.