Schizo||Destiel||#Wattys2017||

Year 13: Here With You Is Where I Want To Be

Castiel washed his face, silently chewing on his bottom lip. College was tough, and he hadn't realized that neither he, or Dean had stayed up studying until 3AM. Yeah, it was one of those days. One of those days before finals when he couldn't sleep when there was books to read and homework to do. Freshman year of college was not kind toward Castiel. Both he, and Dean had gotten into Yale, which was such an achievement in itself, but, having Scarlett, they lived off campus, and had to get up a little earlier than all their friends. They had actually found a quiet little house about a mile off of the campus, which was a huge plus. Neither of them really wanted an apartment. They were too small for the two, and they had no idea how this place was so cheap. It was a small-ish bungalow, with one bedroom and two bathrooms. It was perfect for them. It made Dean the happiest he had been since junior year. Needless to say, they did everything together. They ate. They slept, they rode together. They had the same classes, and they would always sit by each other, for they knew no other way of life.

The hard part is the fact that Dean had definitely grown into his looks. He was built, his eyes greener than the greenest leaf. His lips tilted upwards just the slightest bit, even when he was expressionless. He had beautiful, almost tall dirty blonde hair, and his skin was spotless besides the few freckles that litter his nose. Dean hated them, but Castiel couldn't  seem to get enough of the beautiful artwork on his face. Dean was so strong, now. He could give a kid a concussion just by flicking his temple,

But Dean needed Cas.

Castiel knew the nightmares and the hallucinations were getting worse. His old imaginary friend, Bartholomew, had turned into a demon, essentially. Everywhere Dean went, he'd see his father. He'd see threats that weren't there. Castiel knew that Dean was trapped inside his mind, and he hated that Cas now had to be the strong one.

The truth is, Castiel wasn't strong in any means.

He was still picked on from day to day, even in one of the most prestigious colleges around the world. He was scrawny, he was scarred, he had a story, and no one would listen to it. They always assumed that he was that small kid that was in a fire when he was little. No one ever bothered to ask who he was, or how he got to where he was. He would walk around and everyone would make fun of the irritated, blotchy skin creeping up his neck, just below the jaw. Castiel began to hate his scars more than he hated the twins, who still haunted his memory every so often. He was almost 19 years old, now, and he has more baggage than anyone should have in their lifetime. He wanted someone to be there for him. He wanted a protector. Cas needed a protector. That person was going to be himself. Castiel was going to protect himself, no matter the cost. No matter how much Dean told him not to, Castiel was going to walk through the halls of Yale University alone, and if anyone dared try and touch him, he'd try his best to fend them off. He was done using Dean as muscle. He just wanted him for love; for comfort. Dean was perfect for that.

Castiel leaned on the wall, the water spraying over every inch of his body. He looked down, examining the scars. He felt no difference, now. It was just skin. Slightly ugly, awkward, discolored skin. He stared at his arm, those scars sticking out like a sore thumb. That was the first night he tried something even close to that, and he hasn't tried since. Not with Dean. Not at all. He was finally content. Castiel was finally happy enough that he didn't need an outlet. He used his notebook for that. Drawing was his favorite thing to do. He figured that drawing out what he felt gave a better visual of what he was afraid of. If he could see it, he couldn't feel it. That was how he felt.

He felt fine.

The truth, really, is that Castiel hasn't felt fine fine since the womb, but this is the best it's been since kindergarten. He has a sense of organization for the first time in ages. Wake up, feed Scarlett, go to classes, eat lunch, go to more classes, get home, feed Scarlett again, eat, study, sleep, repeat. That was what he had, and he couldn't be happy with it. He didn't ever appreciate anything. If his life was chaotic, he'd want peace. If he was in peace, he'd miss the adventure. He couldn't win.

"Cassie, it's almost 4. We have class in four hours." Deans voice made Castiel jump and slip in the shower. He landed with an oomph, and he couldn't help but let out a cry of surprise. "Sorry for sneaking up on you, babe. I was just a little worried. You've been in here for almost an hour."

Castiel regained his balance at once, looking down. He felt a pair of buff arms wrap around his figure. "Why aren't you asleep, Dean?"

"I was."

Castiel's heart sank, but he was determined not to say what he was thinking. Again? He knew the answer, already. "Dean," he whispered, turning around to find Dean about two inches next to him. He pulled him closer, burying his head in his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Cassie, don't." Dean whispered, his hand tracing circles on his back. Cas couldn't let go, then, because he realized how much Dean didn't want him to. He didn't want to. "Hey, why did I find concealer in here a couple days ago? A lot of it."

"Sometimes I need to hide things," Castiel shuddered. "And sometimes I have a stray zit that I hate."

Dean chuckled, pulling Castiel closer, if possible. He held him tightly. "How are you holding up, Cas?"

"I'm okay. You?"

"Doesn't matter."

Castiel looked up, frowning. "Dean, yes it does," he scolded, pecking his cheek. He looked like a child compared to him. He didn't like it when Dean did that, but Dean really couldn't help it. His first instinct was to protect Castiel at all costs, and sometimes it was just plain annoying.

"You want the truth, so do I." Dean tilted Castiel's head up. "How are you?"

"I'm content, Dean. This is the happiest I've been in around 12 years. Here with you is where I want to be. Nowhere else. With no one else. Dean, I think I'm actually happy." Castiel said such happy words with such raw emotion, as if he was sad to say something so amazing. He actually was, because he knew it wouldn't last. Something was gonna happen, because happiness is really just a television show, and happiness is a commercial. It was sick, that God would create such a world where people suffer, then they die, but Castiel would be damned if he started to think like that right now. "I love you so much, Dean Winchester. Everything about you."

"Not everything."

"Yes, everything, Dean. I love everything."

"I love you, too, Cas."

Then, their lips collided, and they didn't separate for anything. Dean pulled Castiel as close as he could, making sure their bodies were as close as their lips. "God, I love you too much," he panted, pushing Castiel against the wall.

"Oh, Dean," Castiel whispered. "You love me just enough."

--a/n--

Unfortunately, I do not have the confidence to write smut, but I will write some stuff leading up to it.

I'm in 8th grade Jesus I just don't want to write that type of stuff.

But you know I really enjoy this story.

I am actually passing algebra what?

There's a girl in my school who is such a good singer I'm so afraid she is gonna be the lead in the school play again for her 3rd year straight. I'm trying to be the lead this year so x fingers but I don't start auditions until the 12th

DanCE RUINS ME IM SO SORE OKAY IM SORRY ILL STOP NOW

gnite

I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods

-Emily aka foblvr