Breath

The Things We Take For Granted

Cas' smile lit up a room. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his head tilted toward his chest. His laugh was just as beautiful a deep chuckle that made it impossible not to join along.

Dean could remember that first date. It was the most awkward one he'd been on. Dean had booked the wrong Crystal's. Instead of the casual place to get a good grilled steak, they showed up at a five star restaurant that specialized in fish. The look on Castiel's face when the waitress looked at his jeans and plaid was priceless. Later, in the car after they had politely retreated, was the first time he heard the golden laugh.

60 days into their relationship was when he had begun to take that laugh for granted. A stupid pick-up line, a cheesy pun and his eyes would ignite, a smile would stretch across his face and out came the laugh. And God, Dean loved it.

The words "I love you" were the next thing he took for granted. Uttered smoothly between kisses. Shouted over a shoulder as someone left after a date. Said softly as they clutched onto one another under the sheets. Sometimes, after Dean had told a dumb joke or a pun so agonizingly bad that Cas would groan or slap him lightly and Dean would call out "Hey, you know you love me!" And after prodding and teasing Cas would reply with something along the lines of "Of course I love you, you Assbutt."

Breathing wasn't something Dean thought he'd taken for granted. It was always something you did, you never gave it a second thought. That was until Cas stopped doing it.

In the beginning it was minimal. Sometimes Cas would lose his breath, have to reach for medication or an inhaler. The doctors called it asthma then. If only they knew.

Three years later a ring came into play. Plain and simple, and it lived on Cas' finger. No wedding, not that it would legal anyway. The rings were jut symbolic. Even without them, to Cas and Dean, it was official.

Two months after the ring is when it all went downhill. Cas passed out one day, even after sucking on his inhaler for dear life. Dean called 911 and did CPR, desperately praying for the ambulance.

It was a stupid lung disease. Not just asthma. One of those illnesses that was incurable and impossible to pronounce or spell. Pain medication, a three month time sentence, and a discharge from the hospital is all they got.

Time ticks by faster when you have a limited amount. Dean had a countdown in his head, timing how many seconds, how many kisses, how many more times to say I love you he had left. The number was never high enough.

If the time had come when it was supposed to, maybe Dean would have been ready. Maybe he would be stronger. But instead, fate gave them false hope. The time passed, the countdown in Dean's head reached zero, and Cas was still breathing. A whole month longer than he was supposed to, Cas kept living. And then it happened.

It was a quiet Sunday, a late afternoon storm rolling through. They were curled up on the couch when suddenly Cas started coughing and sputtering. He took hundreds of breaths through that inhaler, 911 was called, but it was to late. When EMTs came though the door, Dean was desperately trying to force life back into Cas' body. But he was gone, and so was the everything Dean had taken for granted.

Dean lives on, still mending the heart that was shattered when Cas took his last breath. Both rings are slid onto a chain that hangs in his neck. One day, he'll put them away somewhere. He'll find a guy, or a girl, not that it ever mattered to him. One day, but not today, or tomorrow. Dean would never heal completely, but maybe he'd heal enough to try again. Even if he did find a new someone, get a new ring, a new chance, he'd still love Cas until Dean's breath was too, gone.