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solitaryslothTitle: You can't always get what you want
Rating: 14A
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Lisa; gen, with one-sided Dean/Castiel pre-slash if you tilt your head and squint (which I do)
Spoilers: 5x22
Word Count: 570
Summary: Castiel makes a choice; broken men have nothing left to give.
Also @ DW here.
Dean woke up to the sound of screaming; it was a sound that was surprisingly easy to get used to not hearing. He started awake, hand closing instinctively over the knife under his pillow. He rolled over to meet the unfamiliar presence weighing down the edge of the bed and opened his eyes to a very familiar trenchcoat. He followed it up to Castiel's face, perma-stubble, messy hair, and all.
"Shit, Cas? What the fuck," Dean growled, slumping back into the pillow. He saw Lisa then, silent now, but still pressed flat against the opposite wall, eyes wide and clearly terrified. "It's OK Lisa," he said, "It's just Cas. He's a freak, but he's mostly harmless."
Castiel's eyes narrowed, probably annoyed at Dean's flippancy, but Dean just shrugged it off, throwing back the blankets and pulling himself up.
"Seriously, Cas. Personal space. Don't be a creep, it's not hard." He crossed the room to put his arms around Lisa and pull her back towards the edge of the bed farthest from Castiel. "What the fuck are you even doing here? I thought you were done with us mud monkeys -- going back to be Captain of the Enterprise and bring peace to the Federation."
Castiel made a bitchface that Dean was sure he must have learned from-- Castiel frowned, but seemed to decide upon ignoring superfluous pop-culture references. He glanced away, as if uncomfortable about something -- which was ridiculous except he did seem more, well, human than the last time Dean had seen him -- and then looked back to Dean, his eyes as unnervingly piercing and focused as ever.
"I seem to be making a habit of coming to the right decision a little bit late," he said, "I apologise; my place is here."
"Get out."
"Dean." Castiel was doing that broken whispery thing and that was Just. Not. On.
"I said get out. Get your feathered ass out of here. I'm done with all that shit." Sam's place had been here, too. He belonged here, deserved this life that he had always wanted more than Dean ever would. Well you can't always get what you fucking want.
Castiel hadn't budged, though. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and turned his head away, his eyes finding the ground. Hunched over, he looked tiny, like he was swimming in the trenchcoat. His whole body seemed to have collapsed in on itself. "Please, Dean. I gave --"
"Did you not just hear me? Flap your goddamn wings and get out! I don't need you."
Castiel stood up then, his face empty, cold. He squared his shoulders and held himself stiff and straight, taking a step away. When he turned to take one last, lingering, look at Dean, though, his face was scrunched and tight, his lips pressed together, so that it seemed he was fighting off tears (stupid angel never could control his emotions). And then he tore himself away and walked off.
After a few moments, Dean followed him the few steps to the bedroom door. Castiel was already at the end of the hall.
"What are you doing? Why are you using the door you son of a bitch?"
Lisa sighed and glanced anxiously at the wall adjoining the next room, hoping that Ben hadn't been woken up this time. She leaned forward, hands pressed against her face. It looked like it was going to be one of Dean's bad weeks.
Rating: 14A
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Lisa; gen, with one-sided Dean/Castiel pre-slash if you tilt your head and squint (which I do)
Spoilers: 5x22
Word Count: 570
Summary: Castiel makes a choice; broken men have nothing left to give.
Also @ DW here.
Dean woke up to the sound of screaming; it was a sound that was surprisingly easy to get used to not hearing. He started awake, hand closing instinctively over the knife under his pillow. He rolled over to meet the unfamiliar presence weighing down the edge of the bed and opened his eyes to a very familiar trenchcoat. He followed it up to Castiel's face, perma-stubble, messy hair, and all.
"Shit, Cas? What the fuck," Dean growled, slumping back into the pillow. He saw Lisa then, silent now, but still pressed flat against the opposite wall, eyes wide and clearly terrified. "It's OK Lisa," he said, "It's just Cas. He's a freak, but he's mostly harmless."
Castiel's eyes narrowed, probably annoyed at Dean's flippancy, but Dean just shrugged it off, throwing back the blankets and pulling himself up.
"Seriously, Cas. Personal space. Don't be a creep, it's not hard." He crossed the room to put his arms around Lisa and pull her back towards the edge of the bed farthest from Castiel. "What the fuck are you even doing here? I thought you were done with us mud monkeys -- going back to be Captain of the Enterprise and bring peace to the Federation."
Castiel made a bitchface that Dean was sure he must have learned from-- Castiel frowned, but seemed to decide upon ignoring superfluous pop-culture references. He glanced away, as if uncomfortable about something -- which was ridiculous except he did seem more, well, human than the last time Dean had seen him -- and then looked back to Dean, his eyes as unnervingly piercing and focused as ever.
"I seem to be making a habit of coming to the right decision a little bit late," he said, "I apologise; my place is here."
"Get out."
"Dean." Castiel was doing that broken whispery thing and that was Just. Not. On.
"I said get out. Get your feathered ass out of here. I'm done with all that shit." Sam's place had been here, too. He belonged here, deserved this life that he had always wanted more than Dean ever would. Well you can't always get what you fucking want.
Castiel hadn't budged, though. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and turned his head away, his eyes finding the ground. Hunched over, he looked tiny, like he was swimming in the trenchcoat. His whole body seemed to have collapsed in on itself. "Please, Dean. I gave --"
"Did you not just hear me? Flap your goddamn wings and get out! I don't need you."
Castiel stood up then, his face empty, cold. He squared his shoulders and held himself stiff and straight, taking a step away. When he turned to take one last, lingering, look at Dean, though, his face was scrunched and tight, his lips pressed together, so that it seemed he was fighting off tears (stupid angel never could control his emotions). And then he tore himself away and walked off.
After a few moments, Dean followed him the few steps to the bedroom door. Castiel was already at the end of the hall.
"What are you doing? Why are you using the door you son of a bitch?"
Lisa sighed and glanced anxiously at the wall adjoining the next room, hoping that Ben hadn't been woken up this time. She leaned forward, hands pressed against her face. It looked like it was going to be one of Dean's bad weeks.
