"How are you feeling today, Dean?"
Although the flames did not yet emerge from behind his eyes and the tears barely held against a nearly-filled dam, threatening to spill, the boy's response did not hold such emotion and vulnerability. Except for his eyes that were filled with guilt, anger and pain, the rest of his face held no emotion at all.
"Great," he replied, forcing a smile. He then put down his coffee, looking at the man who had questioned him. "Look, Chuck. I deliberately mentioned that I didn't want any more sessions, which means that I don't want to talk. Not in your damned shrink room and not in the kitchen."
The calmth that Chuck seemed to express was making him even more angry. Why did he not understand that he didn't want to talk? Why did everyone keep pestering? Why was this pissing him off in the first place?
"Dean. obviously, you're not fine. I won't demand you to answer, but I do want you to realize that bottling things up won't help," the man said. Dean just glared in his direction, the muscles of his jaw clenched, his skin contracting as well.
"I believe that that's still my decision to make," he spat out, before departuring the kitchen at an alarmingly high speed. Everyone just kept asking him if he was OK on a daily basis, as if he was merely seconds away from jumping off a bridge. The more they questioned, the more that idea actually seemed tempting. Nobody was aware of this, though.
He entered Castiel's room without knocking, earning a confused look from said boy, who was studying for some exam they had in a couple of weeks. The dark haired boy was laying on his bed on his stomach, arms and elbows leaning on the soft fabric of his sheets. A thick book was resting in between his arms, a notebook to his left. The boy laid down his pen and watched as Dean started pacing restlessly.
"You OK, babe?" he asked, his eyes tracing his boyfriend from the right to the left. The boy just ranked his hand through his hair and sighed.
"Why does everyone keep treating me like I'm not OK?" he complained, his eyes filled with despair and frustration as he finally looked at the raven haired boy. Said boy turned to his back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Dean kept pacing, surprised when the boy suddenly stood in front of him.
"Maybe because you're not," Castiel answered his question truthfully, holding onto his hands gently. Dean stared at him angrily, though his lower lip trembled. Castiel let go of one hand and instead grazed it over a freckled cheek. "You're hurt, scared, guilty, lonely and worried but you hide it underneath anger and rage to scare people off. To others that might work, but you can't fool me, Dean."
"Apparently I can't fool anyone," Dean mumbled quietly. Castiel smiled gently, searching for a change of expression which never came. The boy just seemed to beat himself up over this even more.
"Who says you have to? I know you're strong. Hell, you're stronger than anyone I've ever met, but losing a father? A brother? That's too much to go through alone," Castiel replied calmly. He was unsure if his words were effective due to the expressionless features that stared back at him. He did, however, notice that he should've kept his mouth shut when the boy's eyes darkened.
"Right. It's not like you speak out of experience," Dean exclaimed sarcastically, throwing his hands up dramatically. Then he turned serious, leaning forward. "It's my fault and my problem, don't sugar coat it. And if you like to imagine that you can understand how I feel, go ahead, but don't expect me to be grateful for the effort," the boy hissed quietly, that frustrated, angry tone back in his voice. Castiel felt his heart clench upon hearing those words, aware that Dean had the tendency to speak like this everytime someone spoke about his dad or brother. Whether it was Castiel or someone else, it wasn't appreciated.
His words hit a nerve inside Castiel, who now didn't feel like he needed to be the sweet, comforting boyfriend. "Expect you to be grateful? You've been nothing but ungrateful for the last couple of weeks, Dean!" he replied, raising his voice lightly. Dean scoffed.
"So, that's why I'm living at your place now, huh? Because I'm ungrateful?!" Dean replied with even more volume. He ignored the strain in his voice when he spoke this loudly.
"You just said so yourself! Don't you dare denying that you did, because it came out of your mouth! I'm done being so fucking patient with you because you don't seem to care!" Castiel said loudly, holding onto the small hairs on the back of his neck in frustration and yanking on his already unruly, dark hair. Dean just glared at him.
"Nobody asked you to be patient with me, Castiel," he said, slightly softer than both boys had before. Castiel let out a groan in frustration, letting go of his hair and bringing his arms up to the sky.
"What do you expect, Dean? I'm your goddamn boyfriend!" he said desperately. Dean breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself down.
"And why is that again?! How could you love a scorched, broken fuck up like me, huh?" he replied loudly, pointing at himself. Castiel let out a shuddering breath.
"For fucks sake, Dean! Why can't you see we're just trying to help you?!" Castiel exclaimed desperately, raising his voice to surpass Dean's previous level. Said boy didn't hesitate to answer, his anger back within seconds.
"Why can't you see that I don't want fucking help?!" He shot back, his voice cracking in the midst of the sentence. Whether it was the strain of his vocal chords or his emotions, he never noticed due to the fiery rage building up inside him.
"You're in no Goddamn position to decide that, Dean!" Castiel screamed. The silence that followed was painfully quiet. Both their chests were heaving and their fists were clenched, knuckles white. For a few seconds it was silent, neither of them knowing what to say. Then, Castiel started talking.
"All I've done over the past few weeks is provide you with love and care. I was there beside you at the funeral, I helped you store your and your dad's personal belongings, helped you prepare the house to get sold. I held you when you finally cried. I'm always there when you need me, but all you've returned is glares, distant behavior and the least appreciation I've ever received. My past relationships have all gone to Shit, Dean and I'm done chasing after people that only break my heart in the end. So, if you wish to leave, there's the fucking door."
Dean watched the boy as he pointed to the door. His words had sounded painfully loud opposed to the silence they had broken and his words hit him hard. Castiel's eyes were glazed over, bringing out the blues of his irises even more. A single tear escaped the inner corner of his left eye, curving down the side of his nose and just missing his mouth, before dripping off his jaw, where gravity took over.
Dean suddenly felt terrified. All the feelings he had bottled up for three weeks now floated to the surface like a flood, the uncomfortable feeling taking him off guard. He felt his heartbeat quicken and his hands shake worse than they had done before. He felt his chest clench upon realizing that he might lose the one person he had left, instantly preferring his previous anger over his current miserable state.
Before he knew it, his hands started working automatically, providing different shapes and movements while not looking away from the other boy.
'I can't lose you too.'
Another tear rolled down Castiel's cheek, this time on his right side. This one traveled down his cheek due to the downward position of his neck and thus his face. Dean continued signing rapidly, a sudden panic coursing through his whole body.
'I'm sorry that I'm such a fuck up and that I push people away. I'm sorry for being angry with-'
Castiel reached forward and grabbed his wrists, not loosening his grip on the boy's arms for a few seconds. He breathed in slowly, his heart hurting upon noticing the sudden fear that had trespassed Dean's walls. He only loosened his grip when he surged forward and pressed their lips together, moving one arm towards the base of his neck. Dean eagerly kissed back, not wasting a second before joining their tongues together. Castiel gasped at the sudden change of dominance, trying to regain control, but without success.
Before they knew it Dean had Castiel pinned against the wall with one hand pressed against the wall and the other around Castiel's waist while Castiel held onto his neck and back. Except for multiple layers of flannel and denim, there was nothing to separate them.
They hadn't kissed all that much in the weeks that followed John's death. Whenever they did, Dean's mind was usually elsewhere and it was like kissing a brick, which caused Castiel to stop trying until Dean gave in or showed initiative himself. That hadn't happened until now.
Dean moved his lips down Castiel's strong, slightly stubbled cheek and kissed, licked and even bit down the rough yet tender skin on his neck. It caused a moan to escape Castiel throat, which further stimulated Dean to continue. He hooked his hands around the edges of his jeans. The moment he started pulling the fabric down, however, Castiel's palms wrapped around his wrists. Dean looked up, suddenly feeling awkward.
"Dean, you don't have to do this. You're emotionally unstable and I don't want you to do something you'll regret," Castiel explained. Dean rolled his eyes at the concern of his boyfriend. However, behind that concern was a certain amount of mischief present. He leant closer, his lips lingering against Dean's ear. "-and besides, if you do want to do this, I'm gonna have to teach you how it's done."
Dean's mouth dropped metaphorically upon hearing Castiel speak as seductively as he did, the tightness in his pants confirming that he liked it. Dean kissed him shortly in assurance, earning a desperate, passionate kiss in return. Castiel took the lead this time and guided him to the bed. Dean's heart was throbbing in his throat, both nerves and excitement rushing through his body. He grunted when he lay on the bed, the fabric not as soft as he remembered. Castiel chuckled against his lips and swiftly pulled the History book away from under his back, throwing it on the ground.
This time, Castiel lowered himself, leaving kisses and probably some hickies along the way. The sounds of pleasure that escaped Dean's mouth were angelic, motivating Castiel even more to continue. The time it took to unbuckle his belt was torturously long, especially since Castiel was mouthing him through his jeans as well. Subconsciously, Dean bucked his hips to receive more friction. Both boys moaned simultaneously.
Dean let out a sigh of relief when his pants had finally dropped to his knees after lifting his hips to achieve this. Castiel had taken his underwear down as well, a sudden breeze wrapping around his frame. Due to his eyes being closed, he couldn't see Castiel and expected him to continue, but his lips touched another part of his body: his hips.
Now that he was laying down, his shirt had crawled up to his belly button, revealing some of his heaviest burns. Dean didn't even have the time to feel uncomfortable, self-conscious or embarrassed before Castiel kissed the burned skin on his hip and moved to his navel. The sensitive skin tickled, making Dean squirm lightly. He then trailed down towards his hip, moving to his thigh. The closer he got to his member, the harder Dean had to bite his lip to remain silent.
Both boys froze when a knock on the door interruped them.
"Boys, is everything OK in there? I heard shouting and something fall," Chuck's voice sounded through the door. Both boys didn't dare to move, looking at each other in shock. Castiel turned his head slightly.
"We're fine, dad. Are we out of milk yet?" he said loudly, causing Dean to look at him weirdly. Castiel winked in his direction before waiting for the man's reply.
"I'll check our supply," the man said before leaving. Dean's expression hadn't really changed, causing Castiel to chuckle, reach forward and kiss him.
"It's a codeword we use to explain that we don't want to be - disturbed," he explained, a cheeky smile plastered on his face. Dean blushed upon realizing what he meant, having the tendency to look away. "Nah ah. Look at me, babe." Dean did as he was told, feeling like his cheeks were on fire.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you," he said unexpectedly. "I didn't want to and I didn't mean all the awful things I said. I was just so frustrated."
"I know, babe. It's OK. Honestly," was all that Castiel replied before kissing him slowly. Dean hummed, kissing him back. He whined at the loss of Castiel's lips against his when they once again moved down, replying that he thought that it wasn't OK while Castiel got rid of his shirt.
"Cas," Dean whined. "This isn't fair. You're still wearing too many clothes."
Castiel smirked, breaking away from Dean's body and throwing his shirt over his head. Dean shut his mouth and stared at the tanned six pack that had just been revealed to his sight. He had seen Castiel shirtless before, of course, but he couldn't help but admire the sight above him. He watched carefully how the boy trailed downwards again.
"You're still wearing- Oh god."
-
A/N: Well, that was something. I reckoned that a smut warning wasn't necessary because I kept it pretty decent. I think so. I hope so.
One more chapter to go! Then this fic is finished and I'll need to find inspiration for a next story (and my life lol). I have been working on an action-filled Stony fic (if you're interested, let me know), but if you have other destiel related ideas and you're willing to share them, that would be great!
I'll post the last chapter around new years eve. Merry (early) Christmas to all of you!