Times They Fell in Love [Destiel drabbles]

Waves of a Hurricane

This was written for the August challenge on spnwritingchallenge.tumblr.com. The theme was water and my prompt was Hurricane. For more info check out their tumblr, or for triggers, music etc. see my post at casbakingpie.tumblr.com/post/123/hurricane

The soft leather of the Impala's bench seat wasn't as soothing as it usually was. The roads were wet and slippery, but Dean didn't mind. He rather enjoyed the loud noise of the raindrops hitting the metal roof. He felt like the rain matched his emotions, too. The ones Castiel taught him to analyze, and talk about, and notice. There was something sad about the dark clouds and the wetness of the rain, but also an anger, hidden behind the piercing and violent splashes. Dean wished he could just merge in with the rain and disappear. He wished he wouldn't have to to think, or deal with his shit, or live. He'd avoided those things for a while, drowning his thoughts in sex and alcohol, but there was no way he could do that anymore. What had been a single man tear on his cheek was joined by a whole bunch of other tears, and Dean made an abrupt noise. His vision blurry from the tears, he pulled over and into a bus stop. A couple of hours earlier the impala would be immersed entirely in the darkness, but the slightest amount of morning sun stopped that from happening.

Dean opened the car door in a desperate need of air. He needed to clear his head, and he needed it right now. Seeing next to nothing, he stumbled out of the car, past a few trees and onto a small beach. Reduced to a crying mess, Dean fell down in the sand. He put his head in his hands and silently prayed he would drown in tears, but it didn't seem to work. After several minutes he was still very much alive and on the same beach, eyes puffy and sore, mouth tasting salty. Dean looked out of the water. He wasn't sure when, but it had stopped raining at some point. He missed the rain, the hopelessness and sorrow it carried. He used to like the water, but now the rippling waves only caused even more anger. His fingers searched the sand next to him, grabbing a decent-sized stone, and he tossed it in the water. The splash was nowhere near big enough or loud enough. Dean cursed the stone for being such a disappointment, but quickly realized he had no right to do so. Dean was the real disappointment.

His thoughts wandered to the time he first met Castiel. Dean had liked a lot of guys in his time, and a lot of girls, too, but none of them had been anything like Castiel. With most people, if was just a matter of liking their looks, of his body wanting to fulfill it's needs. Castiel was the most beautiful man Dean had ever laid eyes upon, and Dean found out later that he was rather great at fulfilling needs, but there was something more about him. Something about the deep blue eyes, about his slightly awkward personality, something about his squinty face and his joyful laugher. There was something about his innocent blush when his hand brushed Dean's. Something Dean had never experienced before.

They had met in Chicago. Dean had been there with his brother and father, visiting Bobby, a family friend. Dean had been at a bar, checking people out as usual, and his flirting usually went rather smooth, but when Castiel walked toward him he had felt sweaty and nervous. When Castiel started talking to him he suddenly had trouble finding the words, and when Castiel sat down next to him he found it near impossible not to stare. He could hear the deep voice in his head: "I'm Castiel," and his own reply: "Is it okay if I call you Cas?" Dean remembered the way he couldn't stop smiling once Castiel had tapped his number into his phone, the way his heart had skipped a beat when Castiel suddenly leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Current time Dean still started blankly at the waves as his mind drifted. They seemed so peaceful. The salt water that had been running down his face had left his face sticky and his eyes dry. In one way he wanted to cry even more, but he knew it wouldn't make any difference. He had no tears left anyway. He sighed and tried to swallow away what felt like stuffing in his throat. "Think happy thoughts," he mumbled sarcastically. For a second his mind actually drifted to Sam and John and Mary. But they were family, and Castiel had been family too.