spn_springfling | Finding The Truth In A Dark Place by spn

Title: Finding The Truth In A Dark Place
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG13/Teen
Any warnings: Mild D/s talk

A flash of blue light and the demons in the ramshackle house collapsed around him. Dean tried to contain the awe he always felt whenever Castiel would smite anything that threatened to hurt either Winchester, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was at it.

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam coughed out, recovering from a brutal punch to the ribs he had received in the fight.

Dean cleared his throat, “Yeah, good one.”

Castiel straightened out, his unblinking eyes focusing on Dean, bringing his arms back down to hang loosely by his sides. His eyes turn sad without changing their focus.

“Of course. I have to go, I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

With a flutter of wings, he was gone, leaving Dean feeling a little off kilter and a lot grateful that Castiel had shown up when he had. He hadn’t been sure if the angel had heard his silent prayer until he had arrived. Not that he would ever admit to Sam that he had asked for help.

“Alright, let’s pack up and go. We’ve got shit to do.” Dean said, using the gruffness in his voice to hide his discomfort.

Sam just shrugged and grabbed the gun he had dropped before walking out of the house and packing his weapons into the trunk of the Impala. Dean followed closely behind, tucking his gun into the back of his pants and climbing into the driver’s seat.

They drove in silence until they returned to the motel they had rented for the night. Sam grabbed his laptop and sat down on the bed he claimed as his, diving right away into more research, looking for the next hunt. Dean sighed and grabbed a brown bottle from the mini-fridge, twisting the top off and taking a large swig. He was not in the mood to be ignored for the evening, and Sam wasn’t in the mood to talk. He walked out of the motel with the bottle still in hand and headed out to the Impala.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden arrival of company.

“Hey Cas.” He coughed and choked a bit on half a sip of beer. “Thought you had to be somewhere?”

“No, I just didn’t want to intrude on your time with Sam more than I had to. You always seem distracted when I am near.”

“What are you talking about, man? I do not.”

“I didn’t realize it was a problem. I should go, then.”

“No, Cas. It’s okay. Stay, Sam’s not talking to me, and I don’t really feel like sitting in silence. You know?”

“Not really, no. But I will stay.”

Castiel’s blue eyes pierced into Dean’s, and Dean felt his desire to drink the half-empty bottle waning. What is going on with me? He wondered.

Reaching out with one arm, Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, directly over top of the handprint that he had left there what seemed like forever ago. A mark on Dean’s soul. Marked by Castiel. Coincidence, right?

These words rolled through Dean’s mind, and he shook his head to try and get rid of them. He wasn’t marked, he just got rescued from hell. Castiel wasn’t indelibly seared onto Dean’s soul, and there certainly was not anything distracting about the powerful command he carried with him everywhere.

Absolutely not.

~~~

The next week flew by in a series of monster killings and fitful sleep filled with old yet innocent blue eyes and the firm grasp of a hand on his shoulder, his neck, his arm. Dean fought against the dreams, he knew that he was just thankful that Castiel was always there for him, and had saved him from more than just hell. His mind was playing tricks on him, and he was determined not to let them win.

Castiel seemed to sense that Dean’s absolute confidence was slightly off centre, and his concept of personal space seemed to be at an all-time low. Which did not help Dean’s subconscious thoughts in the least, he muttered to himself when he was alone.

Sam was gone hunting for food, apparently deciding that he finally had enough of fast food and he wanted some “real food”. Whatever that meant. Of course, as soon as Sam was gone in the Impala, Castiel appeared right beside Dean in the motel room.

“Hello, Dean.”

“God damnit Cas, a little warning?!”

“My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.” A step closer brought Castiel right into Dean’s face, and Dean could feel his breath quicken.

“Okay, yeah, sure. What’s up?” Dean tried to take a casual step backwards, but Castiel stayed close.

“I’ve noticed that you have peculiar reactions when I am near, and I was hoping you could explain them to me.”

A cough forces its way up Dean’s throat, and he chokes slightly on the words that he just heard.

“I, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

“Does my proximity cause your heart to beat faster, or your breath to become shallow for a reason? Am I bothering you? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or unhappy.”

“Dude! No, man, it’s just. You’re very… close. And you also kind of kick ass at saving my ass, so I’m like… Whatever.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkle slightly, and the skin around them wrinkles as his mouth turns up into a smile. Dean thought he almost looked predatory, like he heard something he liked and he wanted more.

“Uh… Cas?”

“Be quiet Dean.”

Dean’s mouth slaps shut, his eyes following Castiel’s as best they can in such close proximity. His breathing speeds up further and his arms are glued to his sides. Logically he knows he should probably be in some type of fight-or-flight moment, but he doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to think. Doesn’t want to fight.

Just wants to…

Castiel leans his head forward and presses his lips to Dean’s, soft but firm. Dean feels his breath stop and he can’t focus on anything but the blurry blue before his eyes.

His hands clench into fists and he struggles to stay still. He loses this battle, softening his lips and relaxing into Castiel’s kiss, arms hanging uselessly by his sides. Dean feels the firm grip of Castiel’s hands on both of his shoulders, holding him still, keeping him grounded. He inhales and feels a renewal he did not expect.

Castiel pulls away, that mildly predatory grin back on his lips, wrinkling the skin around his eyes, making Dean’s stomach do somersaults as he stands there dumbfounded. Without another word, he disappears in a flutter of wings and leaves Dean breathless, wordless, thoughtless. He climbs into the wiry motel bed, pulls the threadbare blanket up over his body, and closes his eyes.

~~~

When he opens his eyes the next morning, Sam is snoring, sprawled out on the motel bed nearby. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dean tries to figure out if what happened the night before was a figment of his imagination. Castiel couldn’t have been in the motel room with him, couldn’t have stepped in close, couldn’t have spoken two words so powerfully as to make him stop. Dean couldn’t admit it.

“Good morning, Dean.” The gravelly voice jarred him from his self-denial and made his breath stutter.

He wanted to yell, to scream, to punch Castiel, to tell him to fuck off. To stop messing with his mind. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think, all he could focus on was the deep voice that dragged him from reverie to reality. How he wanted that voice to talk more, to express, to indicate, to… something!

But Castiel didn’t say anything. He remained silent and stoic. Waiting? For what?

“Hey Cas.” He forced a cough, trying to clear the pressure he felt in his chest.

“Come with me.” Castiel indicated towards the door of the motel room. Dean couldn’t think of a good reason not to, he did want to try and figure out what was going on between them, what had been going on for what seemed like years. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on as he strode out the door behind Castiel, listening for the latch he knew was there to know that the door was locked and Sam was safe. Breathing a sigh of relief when he heard it.

“What’s g-“ Dean started to ask.

“Not now.”

Exhaling harshly at the terse statement, Dean shut his mouth, shrugging slightly, and followed Castiel through the hallways, out the front door, into the parking lot. Standing next to the Impala, Castiel finally turned around to face Dean.

“I would like to go somewhere private.”

Dean looked around at the empty parking lot, then looked back at Castiel with raised eyebrows.

“Completely private.” Castiel clarified.

“Like where?”

“May I?” He asked, raising two fingers towards Dean’s forehead. Dean pursed his lips then shrugged.

“Sure, whatever.”

Dean blinks and the scenery changes. He knew it would, but for some reason it is still a massive shock to all of his senses, and sets him on edge. Looking around quickly, he establishes that there is no imminent danger and his breathing returns to normal. Castiel waits patiently as Dean completes this routine, and when Dean straightens out, he waves towards two cushioned chairs that appear in the empty room.

Walking over to them, Dean watches Castiel, trying to figure out why he brought them to this… other place. As soon as they both take their seats, Castiel begins to speak.

“I’ve been noticing things, Dean. Your breathing erratic, your pupils dilating, your muscles stiffening, all of these things as soon as I am noticed by you, and undeniably stronger when I am in closer proximity to you than what you consider kosher.”

“I don’t –“ Dean isn’t sure how to react, but denial seems like a good start. Castiel doesn’t let him get in another word.

“I am tired of you fighting with yourself. I have seen inside of you, seen your soul, seen what makes you tick. Can you really deny that I, of all those you surround yourself with, would know you better than any?”

Dean opens his mouth to speak, and Castiel’s eyes tighten. Shutting his mouth, Dean pauses and then shakes his head minutely.

“As I have recognized feelings and sensations in this body, so have I identified the ones I felt in you. The ones I still feel in you when I am near. I have no interest in playing games, and I have no particular reason to tolerate your indulgent self-denial.”

Dean’s jaw drops open, Castiel’s words ripping through the reassurances he had tried to build up around him. Ripping through his armour to find the soft tender truth beneath.

“I ask you now, and know that I will maintain your privacy as it is seen by your brother and your hunter friends, will you trust me to take care of you? Will you allow me to meet the needs inside yourself that you have kept hidden so long, out of shame or self-preservation? Will you, Dean Winchester, submit yourself to me?”

Dean’s mouth has long since gone dry, his stomach tied up in knots. He considers Castiel’s words, truly considers them. His sense of denial stripped away with the honest and absolutely judgement-free statements which came from Castiel’s lips. He remembers those lips on his, firm but soft, pushing but giving. The sensation of his hands on Dean, his shoulder, his face when he heals him, the constant minor but reassuring touches that are always free with no expectations.

Dean inhales slowly, closes his eyes briefly and exhales. The next inhale even is deeper, and Dean opens his eyes to look directly into Castiel’s.

“Yes.”