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“You are always going to walk out on me aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Said as a fact, an irrefutable one at that. According to the speaker anyway. And why shouldn’t it be? It’s not like history or genetics can deny the fact. His father retreated into himself when shit hit the fan after his mother died. His brother ran away the moment he realized he didn’t have to put up with this shitty so-called-family-life. And he, Dean Winchester, ran away or rather snuck away after every romp with some pretty face and forgotten name… at every start of a disagreement, an argument, a fight. Why should now be any different?
Now, why did he come back the next morning? Every morning, after? Spend the night in the backseat of his Baby or aimlessly walking around with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the other rubbing a worry spot on the back of his neck. Spending the time between the stars and the sunrise both thinking too hard and trying not to think at all.
Because it’s Cas.
That’s all the answer his brain could supply.
The moment it took for all those thoughts to come rushing into the light from the dark recesses of his mind was too long because the next thing he knew; the deepest blue eyes he could spend an eternity staring into, blinked slowly close and open again glassy and wobbly. Then, closing again even slower than before only to open hooded and refusing to meet his own.
And that’s all it took really.
The fact Cas just turned his back on him and started heading to the door with his trench coat fisted tightly in one hand and reaching for his leather duffle with his other, was just icing on the cake. Dean could feel a cold shiver run up his spine and pour into the hollowed part of his chest that was usually filled with warmth whenever Cas was in the same room as him. But not now. And before he knew it, his arm was gripping Cas’ with all his might.
Castiel paused. Took a deep, shuddering breath, in and then out. Dean knew. He knew in this moment that this was the reason he always walked away first. Why he was always the one to give up and run out before the clash got any worse: he couldn’t stand to be the one left hurt and left behind. Especially not by Cas. To wait around and watch for the realization to fly across Cas’ face that Dean wasn’t worth it. That he wasn’t worth all this nonsense, this stress over his crap-load of baggage he’s been carrying around since he carried his brother out of their burning home.
But it was happening. Right now. Cas was leaving but…Dean wasn’t letting him go.
With one word that came out more as a whimper than anything else. He tried to tell Castiel everything. To change everything.
He could see Cas’ shoulders, determined earlier, deflate and slink down until his back hunched slightly. And slowly, Castiel turned back to face him.
Dean’s eyes connected with Cas’. And Dean knew what he saw wasn’t his own worthlessness reflected back at him but, sadness and Cas’ self-doubt that he, among the two of them, wasn’t worth sticking around for. And Dean couldn’t have that.
“Cas,” he repeated softly, “Angel? I am…I am so sor–".
And with a hardening of his eyes, Castiel gave Dean a look that said ‘don’t you dare think about apologizing, just say it.’ And that pierced Dean in the chest more painfully than anything else in his life. More than Sammy moving half-way across the country; more than Lisa and Ben forgetting about him. It felt like the worst of tortures and did he know torture.
“Babe” he tried again. “Don’t. Please just don’t…Don’t leave me.”
With a huff that was somehow both in resignation and indignation, an insufferable “Dean” escaped Castiel’s chapped lips in a rough, strained tone. His eyes flicked away before continuing. “You clearly would be much happier if –"
“No! No.” Dean paused and tilted his head down enough to catch Castiel’s eyes, still haven’t let go of Castiel’s arm, to make sure what he said next was clear and unmistakable. “I have and never will be happier than when I am with you.”
“Then why do you always leave –"
“Because!?!” Dean interrupted.
“Because,” started again more quietly this time after Castiel’s narrowing of his eyes (he always hated being interrupted, all forms of rudeness really), “I was…” God why was this was hard to admit. “Because I was…because I knew…I know I could never…” Shit.
“Icouldn’tlivewiththeideaofyouleavingmesoIleftbeforeyouhadthechancetoseethatIamtotallynotworthstickingaroundfor.”
If Castiel’s eyebrows rising to the hairline of his always-messy hair were any indication, the bitch face he was now sporting gave away his annoyance.
Dean couldn’t let that annoyance turn into something worse so, he quickly repeated:
“I couldn’t live with the idea of you leaving me so, I always left before you had the chance to see that I am totally not worth sticking around for.”
Castiel, again, let out that huff, but it was more of a sigh really, that was all indignation and only a hint of annoyance. “Have I not explained to you in an infinite number of ways that you do not see yourself clearly? I have seen you at your worst and I have seen you at your best, Dean Winchester. And I still choose to be with you. Because you are so much more than you see in yourself. That matter aside, you do realize that I had no intention of leaving for the preposterous notion that it was because I thought being with you was not worth all your emotional constipation but because I clearly do not make you happy. And you deserve to be happy-"
“Wait! What!?!” and because it needed to be asked again, “What?!” “You think you don’t make me happy?! Are you fucking shitting me, Cas?” When all Dean got was Castiel turning his head to avoid his glaze, Dean changed tactics.
Dean gently let go Castiel’s arm but immediately stepping close to ensure no possible escape attempts could be executed, Dean crowded into his personal space and tipped his chin up until blue met green. In a voice softer than even knew he had in, Dean asserted, “I love you. You make me happy. You make me happier than I could ever remember being. Don’t ever doubt that.”
The glassy look returned to Castiel’s eyes as he leaned into Dean’s touch. “I love you too. You make me so happy. I… you helped me finally find my home. But why…why can you not believe that at the first sign of trouble I would not just abandon you – no, that time does not count, that was for your own good.”
Dean shut his mouth and nodded. Protest dying somewhere in his throat.
“I am not leaving until you ask me to. Like I said, my home is with you. But how you kept leaving me, I came to the conclusion that you did not return the sentiment. That I was keeping you from having a happier, more fulfilling life. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was best for you.”
“You idjit. When has it ever been a better thing for us to be apart? You gotta trust me Cas. You always think you’re doin’ the right thing but just, no. You belong here, with me. Just like I belong here, with you. No more running away, for either of us, okay?”
With a determined nod of his head, Castiel agreed.
“Good. So could we like kiss and make up now?” The Dean Winchester charm at full power.
“Dean! You are insufferable-" Cas huffed, trying to hold back his laugh.
“You love it Angel.”
Castiel, despite letting out another huff of irritation, that Dean thought was adorable, leaned closer into Dean, forehead resting against each other's.
“So….does that mean makeup sex then?”
“DEAN!” Castiel exasperated as he turned away to grab his things and to put them back into their proper place: their room.
“What?” Dean tried for innocence and failed spectacularly with the grin he couldn’t suppress and he trailed after him. “You know I am never going to leave you alone now, right?”
Castiel raised an eyebrow clearly not seeing where this was going.
“You’re never going to get rid of me now.”
“I was not planning to.”
“I know” Dean said with a wink and Castiel responded with a roll of his eyes stopping once in their room.
“I am going to follow you into your classes to keep those hormone riddled frat boys and sorority girls in check, I am going to your weekly book club to make sure that damn Balthazar keeps his hands to himself, I am going to kiss you so damn hard in front of that barista that keeps giving you fuck-me eyes at that coffee shop you love so damn much, and grope you in front of that-"
“DEAN!”
“What!? You're mine and I am going to make sure everyone knows it.”
Castiel stood there with arms crossed in front of his chest and giving Dean his ‘I will smite you where you stand’ face.
And Dean quickly backtracked. “And of course I am yours, too. Jeez like that wasn’t obvious,” he said smiling so big, obviously proud of himself for that one.
And Castiel had to admit it with a little quirk at the corner of his lips, “Yes, okay Dean.”
The make up sex that followed was sure to put all their other next-morning-angry-makeup-sex to shame.