#YOU CANT TAKE 2 STEPS WITHOUT HEARING A WET CRUNCH

[paradoxbeta]

THE CICADAS ARE HERE

[onfreckledwings]

follow up to this ❤️💚

When he wakes in the deepest recess of the night, Cas is not asleep at his side.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances around the room. He doesn’t need to turn on the light on the bedside table to know. The space next to him in the bed is cold, the room is empty.

He’s alone.

His stomach drops to the space between his knees as he pushes himself upright. His heart is a pitter-patter in his chest; the blood rushing in his ears a deafening roar.

“Cas?” Dean calls out uselessly. He swings his legs gingerly over the side of the bed and walks slowly to his door, turning the knob and stepping into the hall.

“Cas?!” He calls out again, louder this time, glancing down both sides of the corridor and listening for movement. He sees nothing, hears nothing.

His heart begins to hammer against his ribs, and his mind starts to race.

Shit.

He walks a little too quickly throughout the bunker, ignoring the pain that slams from his back through his chest at the movement, and checks the kitchen, then the library. When it’s empty too, he heads into the war room.

He spots Cas’s phone on the map table, and when he walks over to tap the screen, the time glares back at him.

2:32

Dean takes a deep breath. He thinks for a moment, and when an idea comes to him, he tosses on his jacket hanging on the back of one of the chairs.

He heads for the garage.

When Dean opens the side garage door, it creaks and groans loudly in protest. A quick scan of the woodlands behind the bunker finds Cas standing in the middle of a small clearing, wrapped in a thick, oversized blanket that trails at his feet in the frozen dirt.

Relief floods through him like waves on the ocean. His shoulders drop, tension ebbing from his muscles, and he shuts the door gently behind him instead of letting it clang against the frame.

Cas is looking up at the diamond-studded sky, and Dean smiles as he watches.

He zippers up his coat against the mid-winter chill as the breeze hits against him, swaying against the rustling branches high above. He inhales deeply, the scent of the cold air mixing with the towering bald cypress trees cleansing his lungs. He approaches Cas silently, hand reaching out to caress his back, palm gripping his shoulder gently as he stands next to him.

Cas sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

“Hello, Dean.”

A huff of breath escapes his nose in a chuckle.

“Hey,” he smiles, letting his hand squeeze Cas’s neck affectionately. “Leave a note next time, huh? Scared the crap outta me.” He keeps his voice gentle, teasing, and Cas turns his chin to meet Dean’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says solemnly, eyes drifting to the ground before meeting his again. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Dean smiles, rubbing soothing circles against Castiel’s shoulder blade. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m just sayin’,” he murmurs, and they both turn their faces towards the sky.

It’s a cloudless night. There are stars everywhere. The moon is high and full and shining. It’s beautiful.

“All things bein’ equal?” he continues, watching Cas’s reaction in his periphery, “I’d rather you wake me up than just wakin’ without you next to me.”

Cas thins his lips into a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he casts them to the ground. Dean tries again.

“I dunno if you’ve noticed, but...I don’t need to sleep with a gun under my pillow these days. So it’s not like I’ll accidentally shoot ya.”

Cas’s eyes close then, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips as his chin drops a little to his chest. Dean can tell he’s holding something back.

The former angel is crestfallen.

Dean’s brow furrows in concern, and he wraps his hands around Cas’s wrists to tug him towards him so that they’re face to face. He lets his hands travel to frame his cheeks.

When Cas’s eyes open, they glisten with tears.

“Hey,” he whispers, crowding closer into Cas’s space. “What’s goin’ on?”

Cas makes an attempt to shake his head, to try to dismiss Dean’s worry.

“No no—” Dean says gently. “Talk to me.”

Cas screws his eyes shut, tears falling in moon-bathed streams down his cheeks before he meets Dean’s gaze.

“I’m not an angel anymore,” he murmurs quietly.

Dean’s chest aches at the pain in Cas’s voice as he tilts his head in sympathy. He sounds so small and vulnerable, but there’s something else there, too.

Dean’s thumbs stroke against Cas’s cheekbones, feather-light. “I know,” he whispers, tears of his own sneaking into his throat.

But he has to be strong.

“I can’t imagine—”

“How can I ever be enough for you like this?”

Dean freezes mid-sentence. His heart sinks before it shatters, bleeding in the space between his feet. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns, eyes widening in disbelief.

“What?”

Cas steps out of Dean’s hold, and the fallen leaves crunch beneath his feet. He wraps the blanket tighter around him as he turns to face the sky again.

The roaring in Dean’s ears return, and he stares at Cas’s profile. Nausea starts to spread and twist like ribbons in his stomach.

“I don’t have the ability to heal. I can’t teleport. I can’t...do any of the things I used to,” Cas breathes, voice firm as stone. He’s not looking for pity, not looking for anything to challenge his thoughts.

He’s just being.

Dean’s head is spinning, and he’s so flabbergasted he can’t formulate words in his mouth.

Cas turns his head to meet him again. “How could I make up for that now?” As just a human goes unspoken; but Dean hears it all the same.

In that moment, he feels the rebar ripping through his gut all over again. He steels himself against the urge to double over.

“I don’t know how to be worthy enough,” he continues, voice solemn and jaded and numb all at once. “I don’t know how to be enough—for you—as just...this.” he finishes then, glancing himself up and down, hands stretched out in a shrug before crossing his arms with the blanket again. Cas sighs heavily as he rotates on his heel to stare up at the moon, his back to Dean.

All of the air leaves his lungs. His heart speeds up a little in a panic. He stares unblinkingly at Cas’s silhouette, and the wind gusts in the woods around them. He can hear the branches rustling above, and he can see Castiel’s thick hair swaying against the wind, sticking up every which way.

His stomach rolls. His mouth goes dry.

“Enough?” Dean mumbles in a hoarse whisper, more to himself than anything else. He strides forward, grabbing onto one of Castiel’s shoulders as he walks to stand in front of him.

Cas won’t meet his eyes. He just keeps staring at the world far beyond, hidden and cloaked in darkness.

Maybe he’s looking at Heaven.

Dean sniffles and reaches both hands on Cas’s shoulders.

“How could you ever think that you ain’t enough for me?”

But if Dean’s honest with himself, he knows. He knows he’s done a pretty shit job over the years of making Cas feel valued and wanted and loved —regardless of the status of his grace.

Cas closes his eyes and sighs heavily. When he opens them, he keeps them canted to the ground between their feet. The look Dean finds on his face scares him; it’s defeated, empty.

Broken.

His shoulders sag underneath Dean’s fingers.

Castiel looks exhausted.

“Okay, look…” Dean begins, shaking Cas gently to force their eyes to meet.

“I know...I know I’ve said things, an-and done things over the years that’ve hurt you. I know we’ve had our moments. But man…”

He trails off for only a moment, letting one hand slide down Cas’s chest to fist it into his shirt, the other reaching to grasp one side of his neck.

“‘M a wreck without you,” he grits out, green eyes boring into blue. “Losin’ you...an’ every time I’ve ever lost you it just—it always almost finished me.” He pulls Cas in closer by his shirt, and Castiel’s hands fall to grip Dean’s sides to prevent himself from stumbling.

“It was never about your mojo, Cas. Ever. ‘N I’m so sorry you ever thought it was.” Dean’s eyes are watering now, and he purses his lips as he lightly punches Cas’s chest.

“It’s just always been you.”

And maybe he’s not making any sense. But Dean’s never been good with words, and his chin is trembling, and Cas’s eyes are spilling over without a blink.

They’re so fucking blue.

And Dean’s heart is tattered in pieces on the floor of his ribcage.

“You’ve always been enough.” Dean whimpers, and he lets his own tears break free through the dam of his eyelids, falling in rivulets down his stubbled cheeks.

“Just you. I need you to see that.”

He rests his cheek against Cas’s temple and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he chokes back a sob. Cas’s arms come to wrap around Dean’s middle as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Please, Cas. Please believe that.” Dean chokes out, and he knows he’s babbling now. But Cas squeezes him tighter, and Dean lets his mouth fall into the swath of skin where Cas’s neck slopes into his shoulder. He crushes Cas into him.

They cry together until there are no more tears to shed; they hold each other, mending their broken pieces and bones and marrow and flesh.

The cracks in their hearts begin to heal.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Cas’s lips are against his ear, shushing him and murmuring sweetly against the shell, hands rubbing up and down his back.

They begin to sway in each other’s arms.

“You’re it for me, Cas,” Dean sniffles. “Just you.” Not your grace, not your wings.

He pulls away to rest their foreheads together. “You hear me?”

I love you.

Castiel nods, closing his eyes before meeting green. Dean watches as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and they meet in the middle in a chaste, open-mouthed kiss. Cas’s hands come up to frame Dean’s face.

“I hear you,” Cas whispers hoarsely as they part, and he runs a hand through Dean’s hair. Dean can’t help it when his eyes flutter at the touch.

A small, cold wet sensation stuns his nose then; Dean opens his eyes and tilts his head back to see thick, fluffy snowflakes beginning to fall around them. A small chuckle escapes his throat, and Cas follows his gaze. When another snowflake lands on the bridge of Dean’s nose, Cas’s index finger comes to catch it.

Dean’s eyes fall back to his. What he finds there is marveling.

“I dunno how y’do that,” he mumbles. “Make your eyes so friggin’ blue.”

Cas just smiles through those wonderfully thick lashes. He reaches to grab one of Dean’s hands, cupping it between his own as he brings it to his lips. “It’s a gift,” he quips.

Dean chuckles with a nod, and taking advantage of their height difference, he tugs Cas forward so he can press a kiss to the muss of velvet black hair. He inhales the scent of his own shampoo that mixes with the natural essence of Castiel: earth and rain and lightning. Dean grins as Cas snuggles into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

“Wanna go back in?” he mumbles against the thick strands. Cas lets out a yawn.

“Mm-hmm.”

Dean snorts as he reaches an arm around Cas’s neck, walking them both back towards the bunker. Cas must notice him wince slightly in pain at the angle, because then he’s reaching up a hand to cover his, and there’s an arm snaking around his waist.

“Lean on me,” he commands. And it leaves no room for argument. So Dean smiles, and lets his weight sink against the man against him, who accepts it all willingly.

Just like he always has.

They’re almost at the door when Dean stills, grasping the fabric of the blanket.

“Hey,” he says. Cas stops to look at him, letting Dean turn slightly in his hold.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

The smile Cas gives him is like the Star of Bethlehem. Cas leans in, mouth ghosting his as their foreheads connect.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”