Cas wanted Dean to hunt, for the sake of his mental state, and to take his mind off the deep pit in his stomach. On the other hand, Dean saw each and every hunt as an opportunity to lose Cas, so he protested each time with petty excuses. I'm not feeling up to it, Cas. Didn't you say you wanted a burger? Let's get a burger. Or the latest-- there are no cases in this area, Cas. I can't hunt nothing. Both of which he knew were downright lies, Cas rarely ate, and he could tell by Dean's slight shaky tone that the second excuse was as it proved to be; an excuse.
Dean became weary and tired, most of the time. He wanted to lay, still and quiet with Cas for hours on end, both swimming and drowning in their own private world of thoughts. Never had he been in a relationship like this, where there time consisted of long and easy travels to and from a different motel every week. It was like living with Sammy, he felt. But he felt differently for Cas, obviously.
This had become the longest he had been involved with someone. He felt wrong to say they were boyfriends, but lovers wasn't it either. Sure they had fucked, but lovers felt too...casual. Boyfriends felt like commitment, and Dean, now on the receiving end of what he called the "lone wolf treatment", felt Cas to be a Northern wind, blowing in without a care, messing with Dean's mind and charming the pants off of him.
He found himself craving Castiel's hands, and his warm, soft lips upon his skin when he went to sleep, and there to greet him when he woke. Dean became domestic, and their life was simple. Castiel did not subject him to any labels, and Dean was fine with that. Cas was eccentric, to say the least, and Dean was old fashioned, but they mixed together like water and food colouring, taking two simple things and creating one spectacle that the world might marvel at. Their fondness for eachother grew with every waking minute, and as Castiel often thought, even in his sleep.
They both still drank, Dean; whiskey, and Castiel; his coffee. Both preferred them dark.
Castiel's lips had never touched the flask, nor the bottle that Dean hid in the trunk of the impala, next to his sawed-off shotgun and his salt rounds. Until one night, when Dean had poured some in his coffee, and Castiel begged for the bottle.
In a drunken haze the two sat on a motel carpet, they had forgotten where they were. Cigarette butts had stained the carpet with black, chalky burns, and dribbles of alcohol had stained two of Dean's white tshirts, one that he wore, and the other, draped over Castiel's frame. The two sat in a giggly, bubbly state, leaning on the other for support, and finding none.
" I made a 'pointment, for the..." Castiel began, his voice slurred and his glassy eyes were even milkier than before.
"...the eye-guy. " he jabbed two fingers at his own eyes, thankfully closing them before the tips could reach.
" Thedocterrrr? " Dean spoke back, his usually deep voice tuned strangely.
" Thatsit! " Cas slurred.
"Are they gunna give ya new eyesss? " Dean dragged his wors, which earned a giggle from Cas.
" I think sssso. " Cas mocked Dean's speech patterns.
"Then... you'll be able to-- to see? Me? " Dean's voice was like that of a child's, almost. Though intoxicated, very excited, obviously pleased.
" Yeah. The guy said he could fisc it with, like, needleses and drugsss. "
" Woah. "
" Yeah. "
{{ okay so this is like almost half of my usual word count but wtvr. i thought you guys might rly like this chapter bc it opens up a whole new concept of the story, ya feel? i've got most of the ending written already, i think. or rather, a quote that i'll base it around. aaaaanyways, i want to thank you bunch of fuckers for reading and commenting and voting because i honestly love each and every one of you with my entire fucking black heart ok. plz comment what you think gonna happen and shit. ideas are muchly appreciated and WHAT DO YOU WNAT TO SEE HAPPEN? IDK/?? ME NEITHER??? ily♥}}
YOU ARE READING
hear me now (destiel fanfic)
Fanfiction" He wracked his brains for the right words to say, gently parting his lips as if to speak, but shutting them quickly, deciding whatever he was going to say was not right. The man who sat beside him had no knowledge of the creatures and demons who s...
