brokentoy

Title: Just let it go
Author: brokentoy85
Word count: 2710
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: Castiel struggles with his newfound humanity and has questions. Dean is there to help.
Author notes: as always, a huge thank you to my beta darkforetold . She battled against the commas from Hell and pushed me to get better with an appeal to my fangirl heart. In her words ''Each time you use an unneeded comma, Dean is a dick to Cas.''

''I don't understand,'' he says.

He never understands and never gets it but, still Castiel tries.

''I don't care,'' Dean says and, pushing the little birthday cupcake across the table, he stares up at him and adds ''Just blow the candle and make a wish.''

‡‡‡

''What is this, Dean?''

The world through the eyes of a human is confusing and Castiel has a hard time comprehending all the little nuances of it. The mechanics of choosing his own clothing is beyond him, but Dean is there.

Dean is always there.

''It's a Superman hoodie, Cas. Totally badass. You have to get one''.

They get out of the shop with two bags full of clothing: little bricks to use constructing this new, non-angelic life one piece at a time.

Later that night, Dean comes out of the bathroom wearing a Batman t-shirt. Castiel doesn't get it, of course, but Dean's smile is enough as it is.

‡‡‡

''This is confusing me,'' Castiel mumbles around a mouthful of popcorn.

Food he kind of gets, nourishment and taste and smell and everything in between, and he realizes he has a weakness for popcorn half way through the biggest bowl available in the kitchen, not even fifteen minutes into the movie.

''It's not that hard Cas. Han is the badass hero, Leia is the hot princess and Luke is just there for the angst. Also, cool starships and battles,'' Dean says, sprawled on the couch like he's meant to be there, like there's no other place he'd rather be.

Castiel mumbles his understanding and relaxes further in the cushions while Dean takes a sip from his beer.

''That hairy friend of the badass hero reminds me of Sam,'' Cas says.

Beer explodes from Dean's mouth directly on the television and Castiel smiles a small secret smile along the notes of Dean's laugh.

‡‡‡

''Dean, I don't want to. Please.''

The room is dark and silent, the only sound his ragged breath and the remains of his dreams screaming in the back of his head.

Sleep is something he's never gonna be fond of. Relaxing to the point of unconsciousness, losing time and space and abandoning himself to a world of insecurities and ignorance of his surroundings.

Castiel has been a sentient being for millions of years and being unaware of what's happening around him is difficult to adjust to.

Also, nightmares are scary. Scary in a way he never knew before, with flashes of the end of the world unfurling in his mind, people burning and shouting and just plain dying. No, not people. Only Dean, always Dean in a whirl of fire, hands raised to the skies in a perfect parody of how he found him all those years back, drowning in his sorrow and desperation in the depths of Hell.

Dean keeps silent beside him for a couple of minutes, gently rubbing his back and sweeping sweaty locks of hair from his forehead.

''Cas, you have to go back to sleep...It's just a dream. It can't really hurt you''.

It could hurt you, Castiel thinks, It always hurts you.

But he doesn't speak, doesn't want to bother Dean with his fears, the horror he feels at the possibility of anything happening to him. He sighs and bows his head, takes a few calming breaths.

He feels Dean shifting on his side and when the bed dips, he looks over to find him laying on the mattress.

''Come on, just try. I promise it will get better with time.''

It eventually does, but Castiel never tells Dean that it's the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath rising and falling through the night that lulls him into a dreamless, blessed sleep night after night.

‡‡‡

''I'm sorry?''

Dean must be joking. He must not be serious because there's no logic behind this at all. But it's not particularly funny and Dean's jokes are always funny, even when Castiel doesn't get them.

''I'm taking you out, Cas and we'll find you a girl for the night'' Dean repeats, like there's nothing really wrong about this.

''Dean, I'm not sure that's a good idea...I do—'' He tries to advocate against this terrible, terrible choice but Dean's grin is so huge there's nothing he can do but shut up and accept it.

He goes through the human routine of showering, shaving and getting ready for the night out without much conviction, and by the time he finds himself at the bar, huge beer in his hands and dozens of people loudly speaking around him, he feels as out of place as he was at that brothel so long ago.

''Come on, Cas take a good look around and see if there's anyone you like.''

Dean is relentless in his endeavors to find him a girl, scouting the place like he's trying to find a demon hiding underneath the skin of one of the patrons.

''That cherry is not gonna pop itself you know,'' he says and there's something hidden under that smile.

''What about you, Dean?'' Castiel asks, a last attempt to change the focus of this very uncomfortable conversation.'' Are you looking for someone too?''

Dean takes a sip from his beer and doesn't say anything for a while, but then looks up at him straight in the eye and only says ''No''.

By the time they get back to the motel room, it's two in the morning and Dean is fuming, back straight and shoulders squared under barely hidden anger.

''I don't understand, Dean isn't that what we were there for?''

The girl had been nice, or as nice as Castiel can find someone without knowing anything about them, and it all seemed fine when she started talking to him. Dean retreated to the pool table with a small smile and a pat on his back and after that there was more conversation, more alcohol and an embarrassing attempt at dancing.

''What the hell was that, Cas? What the hell?''

Dean had barged into the back alley a couple of minutes after the girl brought him there. She was kissing him fiercely and her hands were everywhere on his body and, Castiel figured, this was exactly what Dean wanted for him. He didn't particularly like it, but if it could make Dean happy than it was fine.

''Was it not what I was supposed to do? 'Pop the cherry?'''

''No!'' Dean shouts and it's sudden and violent and unexpected. ''Not like that Cas! Not in the back alley of a filthy bar. You were supposed to get a room, go to her place or whatever, man! It shouldn't be like that for you, not your first time, not ever!''

''I am sorry,'' Castiel says because he is, even though for different reasons than the one's Dean is thinking about.

''No...no man, there's nothing to be sorry about. It's just—dammit I don't know. I guess I think you deserve better than that. I shouldn't have dragged you to that place. It was my fault.''

And as sudden as the anger came, it just disappeared and Dean was left there, devoid of anything except a small wistful smile.

''I promise you, Dean I'll do my best to make it so my first time is special, if that's what is bothering you.''

''Yeah...yeah that's what was bothering me—'' And with that Dean goes straight to the bathroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

It didn't sound like the whole truth to Castiel, but Castiel doesn't really understand much of what happens around him anymore. He can no longer read souls and he can't read Dean as well as he was used to when he was an angel, so he only has to resort to experience now and he doesn't have much of that yet.

He lays in bed waiting for Dean to come out, but as much as he doesn't want to fall prey to the nightmares, he's too drained to fight sleep for long. He falls and falls and there's nothing he can do about it.

Dimly, in the back of his head, he's aware of another body slowly sliding beside him under the covers.

He's too far gone to feel the gentle kiss bestowed in the middle of his shoulder blades, but there are no nightmares, no dreams, and all is well for the night.

‡‡‡

I know you, he wants to say. I know you and you are all I want to know from now on.

Weeks pass and the introduction to the human world becomes less the start of a journey and more like the climax of the plot of his life.

There's nothing he can't do now, albeit things still make him wonder from time to time.

Music, he likes. He finds melodies to be soothing and relaxing while he reads something that does not involve angelic symbols or ancient magic.

Dean buys him CDs and a portable CD player and while he complains about his choices, he always presents Castiel with something unknown but that he would like nonetheless.

He's not afraid of sleep anymore because Dean is always there before he closes his eyes and still in his bed, gently snoring, when he opens them.

Sometimes Castiel wonders why he does that. Why he puts up with him and his confusion and he never can find a satisfactory answer.

But then he wakes up to the sun shining in through the motel window and just looks at Dean for some time, counting freckles and drawing invisible patterns on his skin with his eyes. Finding constellations and asking himself what it would be like to touch each of them with his lips.

There are times when he almost does. Moments in the quiet of these mornings where he tries to sum up some courage and just make a move. But he never does.

He is unsure of what would happen if he touched Dean like this. What would his reaction be.

The warmth of Dean's body next to his, sometimes just lying there on his back, sometimes unconsciously slumping an arm around Castiel's waist, is enough to calm his mind and satisfy his need of having him close.

Enough for the moment, at least. Castiel doesn't really know much about desire and he doesn't know what to expect from it.

‡‡‡

''What are you doing, Dean?''

Castiel is baffled once more, because Dean has taken his hand and he's guiding him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the toilet.

He remembers when Dean taught him to shave and how badly it turned out the first time he tried it himself. Having Dean lather shaving cream on his face was nice, his eyes completely focused on the task at hand as the razor grazed his skin in delicate swipes.

He remembers blushing and Dean reassuring him not to be afraid. He had thought Castiel to be under pressure for fear of an injury, but the truth was that Dean's proximity was suddenly too much to handle and he felt trapped within his body. More trapped, in fact, than he ever felt as an angel inside a vessel.

Now is exactly the same, except that Dean answers: ''I'm cutting your hair, you idiot. You're starting to look too much like a hobo like this.''

With Dean crouched between his knees, Castiel has nothing to do but feel helpless. Completely at his mercy as he gets his hair cut, one little strand at a time, and it must be some kind of psychological torture, because he feels restless with something he can't put a name on.

Dean is, again, completely focused on the task. He doesn't seem to notice how Castiel's body is reacting of his own volition and he hums under his breath like this is just another thing he's used to doing. Like he's polishing his guns or putting things back in his duffel bag.

Castiel inhales and his breath is shaky at best. His skin feels too tight and he doesn't really know what to do with his hands anymore. They grip his knees tight and he can feel them hurting for the force of it, but it's a nice, if useless distraction enough so it's okay.

He wants to get closer to Dean, the closes possible. Cross this bridge of thin air between them and never leave his new home.

Dean slides his hand through the slightly shorter locks of hair and he mumbles his satisfaction. He seems to think he's doing a good job and Castiel just doesn't care. He could chop it off to weird angles if he liked and he would never complain, for the feeling of Dean's fingers grazing the back of his head is nothing short of blissful.

Some time between their last word and now, he closed his eyes, reveling in the attentions he was the center of, and when he hears the sound of scissors finding the counter, he knows the moment is over.

He's reluctant to leave this darkness made of Dean and his fleeting touches but there's no choice for him other than to open his eyes. When he does, he finds Dean looking at him, pensive and pondering, a small smile on his lips and huge, huge green eyes locked on his own.

He grips gently at Castiel's hair, tugging a little and almost forcing a groan out of him.

''You look much better now,'' he says. He doesn't let go, doesn't move back and there's suddenly so little space between them that it's definitely become too much.

Castiel is silent. There's nothing he can say because really. What can he say?

I want you for myself. I want you to be mine and only mine to keep. I want to crawl inside of you and never see the light of day again. Be yours like nothing's ever been. Give you everything you need and never leave you wanting. I want you. And I want to be yours forevermore.

But he can't speak and can't move and can't do anything but stare, immobile and stone still, like the angel he once was.

When Dean's forehead touches his, Castiel closes his eyes again and revels in the feel of Dean's breath hitting his lips, a soft breeze made of seashores and forests and endless skies. Being on his knees must not be comfortable, but Dean doesn't make a move to stand for a couple of minutes more, just resting his head against Castiel's and keeping up with gentle touches in his hair.

''Cas,'' he says, but Castiel lost all his words somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he can't find a way to get them back. He's terrified and exhilarated, but this unexpected proximity has rendered him mute. ''Cas?'' Dean pleads, like he's asking something vital hidden in three letters of his short human name.

He feels him huff another breath and Castiel thinks it sounds almost disappointed. How can a breath sound disappointed? He doesn't know, but this is the kind of information he finally starts to gather with experience, little by little.

Dean starts moving back and that's what startles Castiel into motion, out of this cocoon of sensation made of whirling warmth and desperate want.

He doesn't let him move more than an inch, opening his eyes and catching Dean's, wide and cautious. Questioning.

Castiel grips him by his waist, tightening his knees and locking him there, with no escape and not an inch of space to move away from him. He feels the hand in his hair relax and grip at it again, and another one creeping up on his side, sliding around to his back in a flawless one armed embrace.

He kisses Dean then, and nothing, nothing he could learn out of this human world could ever be better than that first touch, the first slide of their lips together and the perfect sense he finds in the swipe of their tongues, wet and sweet and not like anything he ever knew.

‡‡‡

''Dean...Dean? I—I can't —''

''Shh Cas,'' Dean says in between suckling his bottom lip and thrusting deep into his body, tightening his arms around him. ''Just let it go.''