Collection of Destiel

War Scars

The hunched figure limped slowly across the distance of the room. His shoulders hung like clothes set out to dry on a clothesline. Tattered scared litter his face causing light to contrast against the dark patches of stubble of his cheeks and jaw. Everyone in the room fell silent as if the noise was sucked into the man's chest and held there. It was a teetering moment before another man came into the room. All eyes fell on this new man walking in. He was flawlessly beautiful. There were few lines of age marring his face. A glow seemed to seep from his pours and set everyone at ease. No one knew who to look at, the battered man or the unmarred one.

Just as they were about to be seated at their table, the dark haired man leaned forward to help his guest into his chair. Sensing the quietness of the resturaunt, the man covered in scars raised his eyes and swept over the place in mere seconds. A look of almost distasteful embarrassment littered his features.

"Can I start you two off with a drink?" The waitress asked, her eyes staying trained on the man who looked as if his face was sculpted by angels.

"I will have a water." The darker haired man replied with an easy smile. His eyes shifted to his friend. "Dean?"

"I'll have a beer." Dean's voice was rough, almost as if his throat was calloused from screaming. "Whatever you got on tap."

"I'll be right back with them." The woman turned on her heel and scurried off toward the kitchen.

The patrons of the resturaunt went back to their meals, falling back into their old conversations, but every once in a while someone would cast a glance their way and make a comment.

Dean rubbed his palm against the smooth scars of his cheek and kept his eyes low. He couldn't remember why he had agreed to allow his husband to take him out to eat in public. Ever since he returned from the war he made it his new mission to see the least amount of people as he could. He didn't even go to the bars anymore.

"I hear they make great lobster ravioli." Castiel remarked as his eyes scanned over the menu listlessly. "Or maybe we should split a-"

"I don't care." Dean snapped between barred teeth, the feeling of eyes on his back making his entire body stand on edge. "I just want to get out of here."

Castiel's eyes widened at that. His eyes scrunched in confusion at his husband before realization donned on him. He looked around the room slowly and caught eyes with a few gossiping people. It caused Cas' teeth to grit and his fists to clench on the table. Without so much as a second thought, he stood up from his chair abruptly.

The scrape of the chair caused everyone to tense and turn their eyes to the man now sending death glares across the entire room. Everyone simultaneously shrunk back into their seats at the sight.

"We did not come to this resturaunt to be your dinner entertainment." Cas seethed as his eyes landed on a particular man who looked at him with disgust. "We came here to enjoy a nice meal. My husband, who you vultures have been gawking at, fought overseas for my right to enjoy a nice meal with him. He spent twelve years fighting for you sorry sons of bitches and all you can give him in return is mocking him behind his back? My husband is beautiful. The scars on his face remind me every day that he fought with blood, sweat, and tears so that he could be sitting at this table with me. So that we can wear matching wedding bands and have a daughter waiting for us at home.

"Next time you decide to judge someone based on their appearance, maybe you should look in the mirror and judge yourself for being cruel to a man who you owe your life to." Castiel spit out the last sentence before composing himself and taking his seat again.

Dean's jaw was slack as he simply watched his husband pull his chair in and pick up his menu like he had just called a room full of people out on their shit. When Dean was met with silence from behind him, he grinned widely and couldn't take his eyes off of the wonderful man in front of him.

"Thanks, Cas."

Cas waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Don't thank me for doing something any compassionate person would."

Dean's crooked smile pinched at the scars on his dimples as he allowed his eyes to fall to his menu. "So, lobster raviolis?"

"If you would like." Cas reached his hand across the table and intertwined their fingers. "I love you, Dean. I am proud to call you my husband."

Dean's flush reached the tips of his ears. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

Everyone in the resturaunt stared down at their tables with guilt cutting daggers into their chests. One man, even ventured over to Dean and Cas' table to shake Dean's hand and thank him for his service. As the night carried on, Dean was so lost in Cas' laughter that he hadn't realized no one was talking about him anymore.