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wordstrings · 3 years

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Speak Your Truth (ch. 5)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (fin)

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Chapter 5

Words: 1,450

“Cas! Ca-aha-as!”

It turned out there was very little Dean could actually say while being playfully assaulted. All of his usual Stop it!s, Don’t!s, and I will fucking strangle you with your own sock!s were apparently lacking in sufficient veracity. At least his instinctive reactions to protect himself weren’t hampered. Fat lot of good they were proving to be, though.

Cas’ arms around his thighs were unfazed by his kicking as he was hoisted ass-first through the doorway in a fireman’s carry. He slapped Cas’ back and twisted like a caught snake but collapsed in laughter all over again whenever Cas clawed a hand into his hamstrings. Dean shrieked as gravity upended itself and whip-cracked him into a bouncy landing on Cas’ mattress.

The euphoria of being so thoroughly manhandled morphed into an elated panic when he realized, two seconds too late, that Cas had deftly unpicked the double-knot of his bootlaces and was working his left foot free. Dean scrambled to regain his equilibrium, scooting back toward the pillows like a nervous crab.

No, NO, “My feet are so fucking ticklish, Cas,” don’t even think about it, you dick! “Ple-he-hease!”

“Please what?” Cas asked, smirking like the asshole Dean knew he was even if he couldn’t verbalize it. His iron-shackle grip around Dean’s ankle tugged him bodily back down toward the foot of the bed.

Don’t! Stop! “Don’t stop,” Dean panted, grinning bright as the sun.

Then he erupted with laughter as fingers spidered over his sole. Tingly fireworks rocketed up his leg and straight into his chest like a defibrillating jolt. He arched back on the bed, kicking and clawing, gasping and giggling. Cas held his ankle fast, immovable as a medieval set of stocks while he tickled and tickled like a goddamned monster. There were even chilly little tendril sensations of Grace wriggling between Dean’s toes, and that was just cheating. Dean yanked, squirmed, and yelped as his brain bluescreened with repeating lines of Error: Cannot Get Away. He wrapped his arms over his middle and shook with helpless laughter.

“Are you having the fun you wanted?” Cas asked sweetly, as if he weren’t driving Dean berserk.

It felt so good to laugh this much, this hard. Dean’s strength was slowly but surely wearing out as he struggled vainly. He couldn’t feel the burn yet in his convulsing belly, though that would come later when he inevitably chuckled at somebody’s dumb joke over dinner and was reminded of the workout. He’d probably flush then, too, like he was now.

“Definitely,” he choked out between gasps for breath.

“How about if I tickle the other foot, too?”

The no! Dean wanted to cry just… didn’t come out. His leg recoiled like a bungee when Cas suddenly released his tortured foot, and he almost kneed himself square in the face. He again wasn’t quick enough to scrabble backwards; Cas snatched up his other ankle. The bedding muffled his panicked laughter as he rolled over to better claw his way toward the headboard, fully aware he couldn’t slip Cas’ grasp but damned if he wasn’t going to try. The mattress dipped under his knees as Cas followed his retreat. His remaining boot was being plucked loose with each inch he gained. A sharp tug and it was off, and Dean stuffed a fistful of pillow in his mouth to stifle his squawking when Cas pinned his ankle down and scribbled across his arch.

“Now, I know you’re ticklish in many other places,” said Cas, while Dean wailed mirthfully into the pillow, “but I doubt I know all of them. Since you’ve so helpfully informed me that this is enjoyable for you, it’s only fair that I tell you: I plan on finding every – single – one.” He punctuated with clawed squeezes up the back of Dean’s leg.

A rush of heat washed over Dean when Cas crawled up over his kicking legs and draped himself over his back. The warmth of Cas’ breath was right behind his ear, dizzying him even as he squirmed from the pointed pokes marching up his sides.

“Maybe not today, maybe not by next week, but,” Cas purred, “in time, every ticklish spot you have will be brought to light. I have all the time I need, because…”

Cas paused as if for dramatic effect (which Dean wouldn’t have believed him purposely capable of just a handful of years ago, but now? Now Cas was certainly both capable and purposeful in dramatics), but the silence dragged. Cas’ hands went still, cupping Dean’s ribs almost reverently. The moment hung, growing quiet, the weight of it mingling with the physicality of Cas’ body on Dean’s back.

Before, Dean would have deflected the gravity with a flippant comment. But, truth-speaking or not, this was still After. He inhabited the hush, and he waited.

“Because…” Cas began again, and there was something like wonder in his voice. “Because you want me to stay.”

Dean turned his head, straining for a view of Cas’ face. “I want you to stay,” he confirmed softly.

Cas was there, just past his shoulder, the expression in his features as open and full as it had been that day – the day that divided Before from After. Cas pushed up on his elbows and learned forward. Dean twisted to meet him. Their smiles almost clacked their teeth together before their lips found each other. Cas pushed down into him, compressing him between the soft give of mattress and firm weight of body. Everything inside Dean’s chest felt squeezed in a way that had nothing to do with the pressure.

Happiness may have been in the saying and the being, but the having wasn’t half-bad, either.

“I love you,” Dean whispered, his lips catching the stubble of Cas’ jaw, because hell if he was going to let Cas be the one to say it first every time.

Cas gently kissed the corner of his mouth, once, twice. “I love you, too.”

They breathed each other.

After another moment, Cas asked, “Are you hurting yet?”

Dean wiggled a bit beneath him, feeling pleasantly flattened on his belly between Cas and the bed that smelled of him. “Nope. Smush me for as long as you want.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Cas’ arms tightened around him. “Does your stomach hurt from laughing yet?”

“No, it’s...” All at once, Dean registered how immobile he was, effectively pinned beneath Cas’ not-insignificant bulk. He gulped down a nervous laugh as Cas’ hands began twitching back to life. “Cas, wait– wait, no-hoho!”

The impending strike stalled immediately. “No more?” Cas said, soothing and apologetic.

“Oh. I, uh–” Dean licked his lips. “I think Jack’s thing wore off.”

Cas’ tone took a turn for the devious. “Yes more?”

“...Yes?” Dean tried, small and hesitant and maybe just a little squeaky.

Then he was a mess of laughter once again, at the mercy of tickling hands and teasing Grace and tender, nibbling kisses.

—

Dean’s stomach hurt. So did his shoulders, his thighs, his neck – just about everything ached. He felt awesome.

He’d finally caught his breath; Cas leaned in and gently stole it again from his lips. They hummed together, Cas cupping his hands around Dean’s jaw, Dean winding an arm around Cas’ neck.

“M’sorry it took me so long,” Dean sighed against his skin. “To say things. To let you know.”

“I’m not sorry for missed time,” said Cas, calm as the deep ocean. “Twelve years is hardly a blink on the scale of time I will love you.”

Even if Dean’s voicebox had still been lubed up, he doubted he could’ve come up with something to say to that. “Geez, Cas,” he choked.

Cas curled his fingers through Dean’s hair and pulled Dean’s forehead against his chin. “I am not limited to a human lifetime. And, of course, neither are you. A soul is eternal.”

Once more, Dean’s heart stuttered in the face of Cas’ devotion. A self-deprecating response formed habitually on his tongue, but he made the effort to swallow it. He nuzzled into Cas’ neck. “Will you even be able to get cuddly in Heaven, or are you gonna be too busy being a wavelength with four dimensions and infinite heads or whatever?”

“There will be cuddling. Though I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the metaphysical alternatives, should you choose to… experiment.”

Well, that was something Dean’s brain was definitely too underequipped and overtired to process. He grumbled nonsensical sounds into Cas’ stubbled throat and curled more tightly around him. Taking Cas’ view on time meant that conversation could wait.

For now, he’d lay on Cas’ chest, enjoy the soreness in his belly, and look forward to all the times to come.

#SPNfluffsgiving2020 #tickle fic #Supernatural #Destiel #stringswork #ticklish!Dean #ler!Cas #Dean Winchester #Castiel #tickling #Speak Your Truth #only a week and a half late wahoo!!#finally finished

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

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Reignite

Summary: Dean stumbles--or is cosmically shoved, more like--back upon the largest loose end in his life. This is one knot he won’t leave untied.

Took me a year (couldn’t resist the dad joke) but here’s my SPNFluffsgiving fic! I ended up writing two fics and frankensteining them together because I wasn’t happy with either on their own, and I think, all things considered, it turned out well!!! Tried something new with the present-tense vs my usual past tense, which was very, very hard for some reason. Anyways, enjoy!

Spoilers for Supernatural episode 15 x 19 through the finale ahead!

“What’s eating ya?” Bobby takes a swig of his beer and eyes Dean sideways.

“Nothin’.”

“We have all of eternity to sit here. Don’t think I won’t.” Bobby flicks the bottle cap at him and chuckles when it bounces off his shoulder.

“I like it here. It’s nice. Quiet.”

“But…?” Bobby looks at him in that very Bobby-like way, that strange blend of impatience and kindness that leaves no room to doubt that he cares.

“Something is just...wrong? I dunno. I felt a little better when Sam got here, but I still have this weight on my chest. Like something is missing. I dunno.” Dean taps his fingers against the beer bottle and slumps down in his chair. He heaves a breath that gets stuck somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“You’re saying ‘I don’t know’ a lot for someone who seems to know exactly what’s buggin’ ya.” Bobby raises his beer in a silent ‘I’ll drink to that’.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be talking to you,” Dean grumbles, kicking a pebble off of the Roadhouse porch. Bobby whips off his hat and smacks Dean’s arm, then his leg, then his stomach which really wasn’t cool.

“Ow! Okay, I’m sorry! Back off!” Dean raises his arms to shield from Bobby’s wrath, biting back a comment about Bobby being a crotchety old man.

“Think about it. Who’s the only person you haven’t seen since you made it here?” Bobby makes a little bird with his hands and raises his eyebrows as if Dean’s first thought wasn’t of teary blue eyes.

“Cas is in the Empty, Bobby. He’s gone. It just swallowed him like--like nothing.” Dean’s voice breaks and he knocks back his beer to hide it.

“Jack must have built this magic box wrong. You’re supposed to feel it when a loved one arrives.”

“What?”

“Cas is here, Dean. He helped put this all together.”

The world shrinks to a pinpoint. The beer bottle slips from Dean’s fingers and his attempt to catch it sends it soaring into the road, where it rolls far enough to qualify as a lost cause. The image of a teary Cas, seconds before destruction, grabs a swift and tight hold of the front of his mind.

I love you.

“Bobby-”

“Are you really gonna waste your breath arguing with me when I just told you that he’s out there? This may be heaven, but I can still kick your ass.” Bobby narrows his eyes at Dean.

Why does this feel like a goodbye?

Because it is.

“But-”

“Go after him, Dean. You made him wait this long already.” Bobby squeezes Dean’s shoulder and shakes him a little, fixing him with those kind-but-tough eyes. Dean sighs and rubs a hand over his face, hissing when cold metal pokes him in the eye.

Baby’s keyring dangles from his finger, clinking gently as it collides with his palm. He sighs and shoves it in his pocket, making sure to shake the little ring off of his finger.

Weird.

“Can’t escape what your heart wants.” Bobby gestures towards Dean’s hand with an infuriating little smirk, like he knows something Dean doesn’t.

“That doesn’t mean jack shit,” Dean grumbles.

“Sure, and I’m President Roosevelt.” Bobby rolls his eyes.

“Which one?”

“Teddy, obviously.” Bobby leans back in his seat with a chuckle. Dean scratches at his cheek and grunts when, once again, metal digs into his skin. Baby’s keys jingle menacingly at him, like a pushy set of windchimes, and they don’t budge when he tries to shake them away. He turns his hand upside-down and scrapes the keys off like a stubborn piece of gum, but they reappear in the other hand.

“What the fuck?” He holds them up to eye level and they sway in the breeze, jingling again. He drops them and they zoom right back into his hand, like a lame Mjolnir, and okay, someone has to be messing with him. He shakes them a few times to detect any evil (a foolproof method, in his opinion) and Baby’s car alarm starts blaring much louder than it should.

“Dean.”

“Alright, I’m going!” He trudges away from the porch, grumbling under his breath, and the car’s alarm shuts off with a pleasant chirp.

“Tell him I said hi!” Bobby waves and watches the Impala pull onto the open road, raising his beer until he disappears from Dean’s rearview.

…

Dean cuts the ignition and slides out of the Impala, squinting against the sudden warm breeze. It’s quiet out here. If it wasn’t for the constant tugging on his soul, like a bratty kid demanding attention, it would be nice. Peaceful, even.

He leans against the bridge railing and closes his eyes against the next gust of wind, this one much more powerful than the first. Everything in the vicinity rustles as the wind dances by. He leans his forehead against his hands and sighs.

What the hell would he even say?

There’s no manual for this, no prior experience or family legend to consult. Jesus, he’s like a teenager trying to apologize for standing up a date. He’d ditched Cas at the celestial prom, and now he has to face the music. No more asking Dad to leave early for the next hunt so he wouldn’t have to face whichever girl he dumped. Grown-ass men face their weird, divine love affairs with dignity, not revenge hookups in the girl’s locker room.

Highschool Dean would call Present Dean a bitch for even trying to chase after Cas.

Highschool Dean was a dick, anyway.

Okay, he needs a gameplan. Stay calm, cool, and collected--like he’s working a case. Cas doesn’t need to know about the butterflies rioting in his stomach. Dean would be smooth and chill. They’ll talk like adults--yeah, that’s it. Grown-ass men, and whatnot. He’d just send Cas a message on angel radio, he’d zip on down, and they’d be hunkydory--

“Hello, Dean.”

Shit.

He whips around, his throat already closing up in mutiny. Just seeing Cas is a punch in the gut--he looks just as Dean remembers, if not better. It’s as if not a day has passed since the Bunker, and god, Dean might not be qualified for this.

Cas smiles timidly as he steps forward, hands shoved awkwardly into his coat pockets. His head’s bowed, as if he’s in trouble, as if Dean would scold him for who fucking knows what, and his blood boils at the thought.

“Dean?” Cas tilts his head.

Something grips Dean, something powerful and terrifying in its ferocity. A force he doesn’t understand surges at the bounds of his body, welling up into his throat, his heart, his lungs. Tears spill from him at a terrifying rate but he’s numb and aching all at once. He’s shaking--no, trembling--and he pulls Cas into a kiss before he loses his nerve.

If he could quantify the triumph of nearly two decades of suffocating pining, he’d say it tastes like stale peppermint. He makes a mental note to lecture Cas about his choice in gum later—spearmint is obviously superior.

Dean pulls away when his gross, sticky hiccups start to interfere with the sweetness of the kiss. He feels disgusting but he couldn’t stop crying if he wanted to.

Definitely not one of his highlight moments.

“Cas,” he croaks. Cas, Cas, Cas, loops in his head, interfering with the static everything else he needs to say. A tumultuous wave of words presses against his lips and he focuses all of his energy on getting them out.

“It’s alright. You’re alright.” Cas cradles Dean’s face in his hands, swiping away tears with his thumbs, but he’s sobbing so hard that it doesn’t make a difference. His ‘calm, cool, and collected’ plan is effectively blown to hell and he curses himself for it.

“You shouldn’t have gone out like that, man. Fuck, I should have said something-”

“Dean, it’s alright--”

“No, it isn’t. I screwed up, Cas. I screwed up so fuckin’ bad.” Dean blinks at a tear-warped Cas, gripping his forearms as if he’d disappear in the breeze.

“When you said...what you said, I thought it back. It was easier to say in my head but I should’ve said it out loud. You deserve to hear it. You deserve everything.” Speaking his mind is like willingly chugging motor oil. He swallows thickly as his thoughts start to align into some semblance of clarity.

“You deserved more time,” Cas murmurs, and he has the nerve to look upset. He always wanted to give Dean more, so much more than he ever deserved.

“Shut up,” Dean growls. Some switch flips in him, some bristly protectiveness that has him wanting to shake the angel like a margarita until he finally admits his worth.

“Dean--”

“Nope. No more heroic bullshit. You’ve given enough, Cas. It’s enough. You’re enough.” Dean grips Cas’s shoulders and stares him down. Cas opens his mouth to retort but whatever expression is on Dean’s face presumably shuts him up.

“You’ve always had me, Cas. You will always have me. I have never loved anyone the way I love you.” Finally, finally, the words tumble out without a second thought. Dean’s death grip on Cas’s shoulders loosens. He did it.

“I love you too, Dean. I’ve loved you since the very beginning.” Cas smiles, as if it’s simple.

“Gross,” Dean quips on instinct, and he regrets it the second it comes out.

“You’re gross,” Cas fires back, squinty eyes and all, and Dean barks out a laugh that startles them both.

“C’mere.” Dean pulls him into a hug, cradling the back of Cas’s neck with his hand, and resolves never to let him go. Never again.

...

“Dean Novak ain’t bad,” Dean murmurs, rubbing a hand over Cas’s bare shoulder. The angel’s nestled into his side, huffing warm breaths into his collarbone, and he would rather die again than forget the feeling of Cas’s sleepwarm skin.

“Mm. Castiel Winchester.” His lips graze over Dean’s chest in a low effort sort-of kiss.

“You shouldn’t have to carry that name, after everything.”

“Hyphenation isn’t uncommon. Winchester-Novak?” Cas tilts his head up and scoots just slightly, trying to preserve his warm spot in Dean’s arms. He presses a proper kiss to the base of Dean’s throat and hums when he twitches away.

“Sounds less like a name and more like a spell.” Dean snorts, and Cas swats his shoulder.

“I fell in love with you, Dean Winchester, and it would be an honor to carry that name. Even if it is completely ceremonial.” Cas turns Dean’s face down towards him, forcing their eyes to meet. Dean’s a little more than breathless at the way Cas’s eyes catch the moonlight but he still manages to grin.

“Winchester is a dumb name, sorry.”

“You are blatantly disrespecting my fiancé.” Cas squints at him.

“Hmm, am I?” Dean’s eyes flit down to Cas’s lips, tongue flicking against his teeth.

“Yes.”

“Your fiancé is a dumbass for not proposing to you sooner.” Dean cradles the back of Cas’s head, absently scratching his fingers along the scalp.

“He absolutely is. But only I get to say that about him.” Cas’s face settles into a steely neutrality betrayed only by the sparkle in his eye. Dean leans in closer but Cas stops him with a finger over his lips.

“Apologize.”

“Wh--are you serious?”

“Apologize, Dean.” Cas pushes himself up on his elbow and cocks his eyebrow.

“You want me to apologize...to myself?” Dean chuckles in disbelief, waiting for Cas to admit he’s joking, but all he receives are wide, blinking blue eyes.

“Perhaps you need some encouragement,” Cas murmurs, his lips quirking into a smirk. Before Dean can protest, Cas throws his leg over Dean’s and buries his nimble fingers into his ribs.

“Wait, Cas--ahaha!”

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t kind towards yourself, I don’t want to hear them.” Cas leans up to nip at Dean’s ear, burying a few chuckles directly behind it. His fingers trail down Dean’s body, pinching every inch of his ribs and sides.

What leaves Dean next is less words and more a verbal error noise. He arches away, desperately shoving at Cas’s shoulders. All he does is turn himself around, and Cas is very quick to wrap him up in his arms. His fingers press into Dean’s lower stomach and trip over one another like he’s gliding over piano keys.

Dean curls, arms folded over his middle. Cas manages a cheeky pinch to the back of Dean’s thigh and he squeaks--apparently Cas likes that noise because an avalanche of more pinches follow.

Dean doesn’t expect him to find that devastating spot near his armpit on the first fucking try, but Cas is full of surprises and Dean is full of laughter. He clamps his arms to his sides but it barely makes a difference. Fireworks overwhelm his nervous system. In Cas’s arms, he feels like he’s flying--but he can’t tell if it’s the lack of air or the endolphins. Endorphins. Whatever.

“Cas!” His name floats out of Dean, blanketed in crinkly-eyed, heartwarming laughter. It’s all he wants to hear for the rest of eternity.

“You are everything to me.” Cas doesn’t expect Dean to hear him over his near-violent giggles, but Dean squeezes his wrist twice to acknowledge him where his voice can’t. His fingers slow, gently trailing over pinkened skin, and Dean slowly remembers how to breathe.

“We can renegotiate the name thing. Maybe,” Dean wheezes, and his shit-eating grin is nearly audible. Cas rolls his eyes and scribbles at Dean’s exposed hip, following each turn, twist, and twitch. For the first few moments, he’s concerningly quiet, only squirming with strangled noises, but within seconds his laughter catches back up with his brain and he’s cackling into the mattress.

“Maybe? Is that your final answer?”

“Nonono, please Cas!” Dean shrieks, kicking his legs as if it will help. He flails all the way to the edge of the bed but Cas is quick to pull him back into his arms. His tickly touch turns calming in an instant, tracing over muscle lines and battle scars as they both resettle.

“We’ll work on it. Together.” Cas flips him over and steals a quick kiss, drinking up the leftover laughter. Dean’s joy is sweet on his tongue.

“Together,” Dean murmurs, leaning their foreheads together.

Holding his lover—Castiel, his Castiel—in the moonlight is all that Dean Winchester-Novak could ever ask for.

There was happiness in the having, after all.

#my fics #SPNfluffsgiving2020 #SPN #Destiel #ticklish!dean #dean winchester #castiel #bobby singer

58 notes · View notes

wordstrings · 4 years

Text

of sleep-warm skin and love requited

Written and submitted by @delicategoblin:

OK IM OFFICIALLY TERRIFIED BUT IVE EDITED THE ABSOLUTE SHIT OUT OF THIS AND I CANT FIND ANYTHING ELSE TO CHANGE SO UHHHHH HERE WE GO. uhhhh you don’t need to anonymize it I’m g with having my actual blog on here i’m just ,,, f r e a k i n g o u t . thank you again for this opportunity though cause i never would have done this otherwise,,,,also it’s kinda cringe i know but i’m fragile ok i needed the Bois being soft

Publisher’s note: The first official fic of I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! I absolutely love this and it’s exactly what my heart needed.

Words: 1,700

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of sleep-warm skin and love requited

Soft puffs of warm air blew onto his chest, it blew the fine hairs that grew there against their follicles. It was an annoying, tickling sensation that made it feel like there was a bug crawling on him. He didn’t move, though, or adjust the sleeping hunter in his arms. It served as a grounding sensation, a reminder that the warm body lying next to him was just that; warm, breathing, alive.

“I c’n feel you look’n at me weird.” Dean’s sleepy voice cut through the gentle silence that hung around them. One sleepy green eye cracked open and he shifted, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s bare torso tighter and burying his nose into his sternum.

“I was admiring you,” Castiel protested indignantly and smiled at the muffled embarrassed noise Dean made against him.

“Less admiring, more sleeping.” He grumbled, and pressed a placating kiss to Cas’s throat. Castiel let out a contented hum and let his fingers glide up Dean’s muscled back, feather-light, and up to the nape of his neck.

“Quit it.” Dean shuddered and fell back onto the mattress with a bleary-eyed glare. Castiel shifted onto his side and smoothed his thumb over the crease in Dean’s forehead that resulted from his affronted expression. Dean didn’t comply with his silent request, and it was Cas’s turn to frown. He leaned down and pressed a tiny chaste kiss to the wrinkle, Dean just shied away and huffed.

“Dean,” Castiel squinted at the stubborn man beside him, who stuck his tongue out and made a point to draw his eyebrows even further - the crease became more prominent. Cas could almost laugh, but this was a challenge. A challenge he didn’t intend to back down from.

“Cas,” He mocked, pulling a face.

Oh, so that’s how it was.

Gears in Castiel’s head were turning, but before they could even quite slot into place, he was on top of Dean, pinning him to the mattress with his weight. Dean’s eyes widened, no longer half-shut with the remnants of sleep, and he sucked in a breath. Pupils blown wide, and Castiel grinned. Dean had a very wrong idea of what was about to happen.

“Dean, you’re very stubborn.”

Dean smirked and waggled his eyebrows, before quickly returning to his previous expression, complete with his arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

Castiel hummed as if he were deep in thought, tracing his index finger from Dean’s collarbone to his sternum. Dean cringed and pushed himself back into the mattress.

“Me? Well, I’m going to knock you down a peg or two, in a manner of speaking.” Castiel purred, resting all ten of his fingertips on his ribs, a salacious grin on his face.

“You, on the other hand,” He continued, gliding his hands down to rest at Dean’s sides. “You’re going to smile for me.”

Dean barely had time to swallow nervously before his senses were set alight by tingling, buzzing electricity. He bit his lip and squirmed, grappling with Castiel’s flitting hands.

“C-Cas, c-c’moHAH. Nonono, c’mohon man, this shit’s for kIDS.” His voice raised an octave when the ex-angel who was enjoying this way too much dug his infuriatingly skilled fingers into his tummy.

It took less than three minutes for Dean to be lost to laughter, punctured by the occasional ‘No!’ or ‘Cas!’ and things that were definitely not shrieks when his attacker got to a bad spot.

Cas, the bastard, was watching him with a big stupid smile on his face. It was so wide and genuine Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad when he caught glimpses of his face amidst his thrashing.

“Cas! Cas, it’s like 4 am, stoho- nahaha CAHAHAS NOT THERE, YOUSONUVABIHIHITCH.” Dean cackled and threw his head back with laughter as Castiel’s hands shot into his armpits, he convulsed and clamped his arms down as hard as he could. Nothing could deter Cas’s determined digits.

When Dean’s breathing started sounding labored, Castiel retreated his hands and took to scritching at Dean’s lower belly. Tickling there, just above his waist-band, was the closest thing to giggling he thought Dean Winchester was capable of. His other hand, bored and itching to roam the squirming body beneath him, cupped Dean’s other side and stroked the skin there. There was another layer of squirming away added to Dean’s half-hearted struggle.

“Caaaas, quihihit playing with my chubby spots.” He whined through bubbling laughter. It was innocent enough, but Castiel knew this man well enough to tell the difference between a joke and genuine insecurity.

Castiel pursed his lips and abandoned his tickling, leaning forward to kiss the panting, red-faced mess. Dean was enthusiastic, cupping the back of Castiel’s head, meeting his kiss sloppily with an open mouth and obscene smacking sounds.

When Castiel pulled away, Dean’s hand kept him there; their faces just inches apart, noses brushing.

“You’re the single most beautiful creature in all of creation, Dean Winchester. Inside and out.” Castiel said firmly, cupping Dean’s jaw reverently and looking into his lover’s wide eyes. A faint blush dusted Dean’s cheeks and he dropped his gaze, shrugging, and grumbling. Cas used his hand to nudge Dean’s face back up and pressed kiss after kiss to Dean’s face. His forehead, each eyelid, his nose, his top, and bottom lip, and his chin.

“I’ve seen stars born,” Castiel murmured against his jaw, pressing another kiss to the stubbled skin.

“Galaxies formed,” Another kiss, this time to his neck, then his collarbone, then his sternum.

“Supernovas,” His chest, right over his heart.

“I witnessed the creation of the very first life forms,” His ribs.

“I’m older than time, older than this world, than the universe.” His diaphragm, his stomach, his hip.

“It’s you, Dean. Nothing I’ve ever seen, ever experienced, could ever hold a candle to you. I just wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

Dean sat completely still, watching Cas with twinkling eyes, he swallowed thickly and made to sit up, Cas climbed off him and Dean leaned forward, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

“You mean that?” He whispered, taking Castiel’s hand and fiddling with his fingers. Castiel smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of Dean’s head, nodding.

“Yes, Dean. I mean it.”

Castiel could hear the quiver in his breath when Dean inhaled deeply.

“That’s pretty gay, man.” He said shakily, pulling away from Castiel with a wobbly smile on his face.

“That it is. I’d venture to say what I’m about to say is gayer, though; I think your smile is especially beautiful. And your laugh.” Castiel added with a sly smile. Dean was quicker on the uptake, though, and before Cas could follow through on his plan, he found himself pinned to the mattress. Staring down a disgruntled Dean, who wasted no time in reaching behind him and kneading Castiel’s thighs.

He howled with laughter and grabbed blindly at Dean’s arms.

“DEAN! DEAN, STOHOHOP!” He bucked underneath the grinning man.

“You started it! And you were about to ambush me again.” He feigned offense, his words spoken around a laugh. His hands converged on Cas’s ribs and dug into the giggle-shriek-inducing spots between each bone.

Expertly, Dean took Castiel apart. Fingers seasoned with years of big-brother experience. His goal was to just tire Cas out to the point he wouldn’t be able to re-retaliate. Ten fingers scribbled across his belly and Cas was lost to giggles that Dean would never tire of hearing.

“Deheheannn, nahaha I’m sohOHORY!” He barely managed around an honest to god squeal that left his mouth when one of Dean’s curious fingers wiggled into his bellybutton.

“See, I just don’t think that’s true.” Dean tutted.

He could have continued on forever, sweet laughter and adorable attempts at an escape or a plea. But, now that Cas was human and oxygen was kind of a necessity, he made the mature decision (what can he say, falling in love changed him) to stop. He pulled away with a parting raspberry to the side of Cas’s neck, which made him shriek and jackknife under him.

“I didn’t bring you back from super hell just so you could tickle the shit out of me, you know,” Dean said, poking his hip. Cas flinched and rubbed a hand over his face, residual giggles still tumbling out of his mouth. He sighed and parted his fingers, peering up at Dean.

“Why did you bring me back, then?” He challenged. Dean glared down at him, but his gaze held no heat. Maybe some exasperation.

“You know why.”

Castiel pulled his hands away from his face and shrugged innocently.

“I don’t, actually.”

“I told you,” Dean huffed. Don’t ask why he was allowing himself to be swept up into Cas’s little game - maybe he liked it. Or maybe he felt guilty still.

“You told me lots of things - through wailing sobs, so it was hard to understand at times. Here; I’ll even make it easy for you. I love you…”

“I know,” Dean replied in a mocking, honeyed tone as he flopped back onto the mattress, pointedly shutting his eyes. Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh and lay back next to him, body curved around Dean’s; a perfect fit, like pieces of a puzzle slotting together. It was a shame Dean was being too much of a man-baby for Castiel to properly enjoy their compatibility and closeness at the moment.

“You’re impossible,” Cas murmured into the skin of Dean’s shoulder, reaching over to pinch at Dean’s waist. He curled away with a squeak that made Cas’s heart swell and grabbed his hands.

“No more tickling,” He pouted. The other man smiled fondly and pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple.

“No more tickling.” He agreed, nodding solemnly.

Then it was quiet again, peaceful. The soft sounds of Dean’s breaths were in sync with his own - the feeling of his heart beating was still alien to him, even though it wasn’t something he noted often.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said quietly, fingering a mindless pattern on Castiel’s bicep, “I do. Love you, I mean.”

Castiel smiled and pressed his thumb gently into the give of Dean’s thigh, reveling in the softness, the warmth.

“I know.”

#SPNfluffsgiving2020 #tickle fic #Supernatural #ticklish!Dean #ticklish!Cas #Destiel #tickling #ler!Cas #ler!Dean #Dean Winchester #Castiel #submission #author delicategoblin #not mine

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wordstrings · 4 years

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Speak Your Truth (ch. 1)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored. Inspired by this prompt.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

or read it all on AO3

—

Chapter 1

Words: 600

Sam tucked a scrap of paper into the gutter between pages before thumping the heavy book shut on the table. He knuckled at one eye.

“Break?” he asked.

Dean sat heavily back in his chair and cupped his hands over his face, rubbing up and down. He grunted in agreement.

Sam glanced at his watch. “Got an hour or so until Jody checks in. Anything you wanna do ‘til then?”

“Get wrecked.”

“...What?”

“What?” Dean said, pulling his hands down from his face.

Sam’s mouth warred between a frown and a smile. “What did you just say you want?”

“To get wrecked.” Dean seemed to register his words this time, his eyes widening. “Wh– I mean, uh…”

“Is that like a sex thing?” There was a manic glint of disbelief behind Sam’s squint, torn between are you actually divulging something meaningful and god please don’t scar me.

Dean scrambled to cover. “No, no, not a sex thing. I just want Cas to tickle the shit out of me.” He froze, his jaw slackening in dismay. “What… is happening?”

Sam’s squint deepened. “Are you okay?”

No, was what Dean’s brain signaled to his vocal cords. “Yeah, just confused,” was what came out. Dean stared hard at the table, scowling and experimentally twisting his tongue around in his mouth. “I can’t… um.” He swallowed. “Hex bag. Check for hex bags.” Pushing his chair back from the table, Dean looked wildly around the room before ducking to begin his search under the table.

Sam didn’t move.

“Hex bags, Sammy,” Dean barked.

“Dean, we’re in arguably the most heavily warded place in the country. And Jack would’ve picked up on any bad mojo, with how cautious he’s been since, y’know, clearing the board.”

“Jack,” Dean breathed. He popped his head up above the table. “Maybe he did that thing again.” When Sam only frowned at him, Dean gestured vaguely in the air. “The truth thing. Your Celine Dion thing. Remember?”

Understanding dawned in Sam’s eyes, followed immediately by more disbelief. “Wait, was that you telling the truth?”

“Yes,” Dean declared emphatically, then groaned and thudded his forehead against the edge of the table. “Fuck.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Let me try. I, uh… I totally love Star Wars as much as you do.” He grinned. “Nah, it’s just you.”

“Fuck,” Dean repeated, then stood and ran a hand over his mouth. “I gotta find Jack. Cas first, though. ...Fuck.”

“Because you want him to… ‘wreck’ you?” Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, grinning wide. “What does that mean, again?”

“Means I wanna be held down and tickled ‘til I’m exhausted from laughing and trying to get away even though I don’t really want to. Dammit, Sam, can you not!”

Sam cocked his head. “Does Cas do that to you a lot?”

“Only when I’m being an insufferable asshole. Sometimes I’m annoying on purpose to goad him into it, but I wish I didn’t have to because I want it to just be for fun, too, especially now since I don’t feel like I gotta invent an excuse for him to touch me.” Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.

A rapid series of expressions flicked over Sam’s face. “Aaand here’s my stop. Good talk, have fun, please don’t tell me about touching anymore.” He stood abruptly and moved toward the doorway.

I hate you. “I love you.”

Sam paused to look back at him, something soft hovering in his eyes. “I know,” he said, smiling, and walked out.

—

Chapter 2 - or read on AO3

#breaking it into chapters because then at least you get SOMETHING instead of NOTHING for 4 more days #SPNfluffsgiving2020 #Supernatural #stringswork #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Destiel #Speak Your Truth #tickle fic

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wordstrings · 3 years

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Speak Your Truth (ch. 4)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

(was going to be just 4 chapters, but this last bit is taking a little longer so here’s a little chunk to hold you over - ch. 5 still to come!)

—

Chapter 4

Words: 700

Cas’ hands were warm, so deliciously warm, sliding up the back of his shirt. Dean arched off the tiled wall to give him more space back there, to invite him up behind his shoulders and down behind his waistline while he pulled Cas closer with his lips.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to go to one of our rooms?” Cas murmured, breaking away to nuzzle his cheek on the way back to his ear.

“Yeah,” Dean said into Cas’ temple. “Yours. Was in the mood to get tickled and wanted somewhere I felt comfortable so I could let go and enjoy it.” He felt his ears going red, despite every other embarrassing thing he’d said in the last half hour. “S’why I came looking for you in the first place.”

Cas leaned back, just far enough to meet his eyes. “You were ‘in the mood to get tickled?’” he said with a smile tinting his words.

Dean tipped his head back against the wall, the sigh of resignation he’d prepared instead coming out as more mortifying words. “Yeah, the kind where you take me down so hard, my stomach hurts from laughing the whole rest of the day. I usually rile you up to it ‘cause I’m too embarrassed to just ask, even though it’s fun for me and that’s probably not as stupid as I think it is but I can’t help it.”

Cas studied him for a moment. “That explains a lot.”

Dean groaned and planted his forehead against Cas’ shoulder. “You’re not gonna laugh at me, right?” he muttered.

“Dean, I would never laugh at you for something you wanted,” Cas said seriously, pushing his fingers up through the hair above Dean’s nape. “Unless it was an eighth slice of pizza. I reserve the right to laugh then.”

Dean snorted into Cas’ lapels. “I’d ask for an extra slice anyway, just to hear you do it. Feels like I’m gonna melt whenever you so much as smile, so you might have to mop me up off the floor if I ever actually get a good laugh out of you.”

“Mm. I believe you’re the one who’s supposed to laugh, though.”

“Huh?”

Dean lifted his head just as Cas’ hand skimmed up his side, fingers tripping along his ribs. A surprised “ha!” pushed out of him as his back reactively flattened against the wall.

Cas was smiling.

Dean was melting.

And then Dean was snorting, scrunching his shoulders and sliding a few inches down the wall as Cas’ fingertips crawled up his collarbones.

“So this is fun for you.” Cas grinned at his attempts to curl up. “And here I thought it was a behavioral deterrent. I should have known better when dealing with an oppositional Winchester.”

Dean’s heart, which had only just found its way back to its assigned seat a moment ago, was up and disobeying the natural order again, fluttering about like an overexcited bird in the cage of his ribs. He grabbed at Cas’ hands as he chuckled and squirmed. “Cas!” Knock it off! “It tickles!”

“That’s the point,” Cas said fondly. He batted past Dean’s attempts at defense and began rapidly changing targets. He tickled Dean’s sides, then his underarms, his stomach, back to his collarbones again, just a few pokes or pinches at each one, switching too fast for Dean to keep up and driving him into a little frenzy of giggles. “Do you want me to stop?”

The habitual answer was yes, normally accompanied by choice bits of blasphemy and colorful threats. However, the truthful answer was...

“No,” Dean laughed. “But I– hehe! But I s-still–”

Cas slowed enough for Dean to catch his breath, though his hands stayed on Dean’s sides and kept up a little massage with his thumbs that made Dean twitch. “You still what?”

“I still wanna go to your room.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you hoping I’ll pin you up against the bookcase again, like the time you took my phone and forced me to go through every pocket you had in order to recover it?”

“Or down on the bed,” Dean spilled helplessly.

Cas smiled that melting smile again. “Anything else you’re hoping for?”

—

Chapter 5

#SPNfluffsgiving2020 #Supernatural #Destiel #tickle fic #Dean Winchester #Castiel #ticklish!Dean #ler!Cas #tickling #stringswork #Speak Your Truth

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wordstrings · 4 years

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Speak Your Truth (ch. 2)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

—

Chapter 2

Words: 1,300

Before, Dean probably would have holed up in his room. Before, he’d have waited it out, hunkered down where he wasn’t at risk of exposing his soft underbelly to anyone. Before, he definitely wouldn’t have gone anywhere near Cas.

That was Before. But this world was After, and while Dean had nervous butterflies in his stomach, there was a novel assurance he was still getting used to. Assurance that Cas would stay, that Cas would listen… that Cas loved him.

His belly did a little flip. He still got a bit giddy whenever he sat with that thought.

Maybe it hadn’t been as big of a surprise to hear it from Cas’ mouth as some might have anticipated. Dean supposed he’d already known, on some deeper level; had always known, because Cas’ dedication could only be attributed to stubbornness and misguided goals so many times before that started to look like a cop-out answer. But having that declaration brought up from the depths like a sunken ship, seeing the shape and bulk of it revealed as it was towed heavily into the light, made it so huge and tangible that Dean’s heart stuttered in the face of it.

He still wasn’t great with words, and there was probably more he owed Cas in verbal response. But, everybody knew you didn’t just kiss a guy you didn’t care about, right? That had to have been pretty clear, even if it was rushed. The Empty’s enraged screaming had been an obvious motivator for moving quickly.

So, yeah, of course he loved Cas back. No question about that. Things had just been… kind of weird since Chuck’s abrupt removal. Dean kept finding himself glancing upward to catch a glimpse of puppeteering strings. Freedom, it turned out, didn’t automatically fill in and pave over the ruts of suspicion in his brain that kept steering him into guardedness. Dean had been doing his best to soldier through; talking about it wasn’t really his gig. (“Ignoring your trauma doesn’t make you healthy,” Sam’s voice still echoed. Yeah, well, show Dean a therapist that could handle this level of cosmic bullshit, and Dean would eat his shorts.)

(Maybe he should check with Garth, though. If anybody had a bead on whatever “healthy” was, it was Garth. He was probably part of some Hunter/Monster Healthcare Professionals circle or something.)

What even were those trains of thought, though? If this truthiness crap was getting into his mind as well as his mouth, Dean was going to have some words with Jack, even more than he was already planning.

Which… what was the plan, again? It really should have been to get to Jack first and take care of this compulsory honesty junk before he made an even bigger fool of himself. But Dean really wanted to find Cas. Who knew what he’d blurt when he found him, but whatever it was, it would be okay, because Cas loved him.

Cas loved him.

Dean repeated it to himself like a mantra as he marched toward what was surely the death of his pride.

Cas’ room was empty.

Shit. Dean didn’t really want to meander the whole bunker looking for him, because 1) this may have been After, but wandering around with zero verbal armor was still scary, and 2) he just... really fucking wanted to get tickled, okay, and he liked the safety of Cas’ room.

Well, he’d probably end up asking Cas if they could go back to his room anyway. One upside to compulsory truth-telling: being able to communicate about where he would prefer to get destroyed.

His belly flipped again. Cas loved him, and Cas would obliterate him. Dean could hardly wait.

The archives were empty, too.

Damnit, why was Cas hard to find now? Any other time, he was inconveniently within earshot when Dean said something dumb, or right around the corner like a cardboard cutout ready to scare the shit out of unsuspecting passers-by, or just… always nearby, ready to offer an encouraging word or a hug or just the comfort of his presence. Aside from time spent sleeping, Dean couldn’t remember a point in the last week where he’d been more than one wall away from Cas for more than thirty minutes. Having trouble locating him was just weird.

With a little huff of disappointment, Dean followed the hallways toward Jack’s bedroom. Maybe the kid had seen him and could point Dean in the right direction. Whether Dean actually wanted the truth-telling business fixed first, though, was a thought he purposely didn’t spend much time with.

As he came up to Jack’s door, Dean’s knuckles raised to knock, but a quiet sound stilled him. He turned his head slightly, listening. Soft murmuring was coming from the other side of the door. Well, that solved the Mystery of the Missing Cas. But having them both in the same room while Dean was a truth grenade ready to blow was maybe not the wisest thing for Jack’s toddler ears…

“Dean?” Jack’s voice called.

“Yep,” he answered, before he could stop himself. Goddamnit. He couldn’t exactly slink away now. He closed his eyes in a moment of silence for his ego, and opened the door.

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas was perched on the corner of the neatly-made bed. Jack sat cross-legged at the headboard and waved.

“Hey, Cas. I missed you,” was the very first thing that came out of Dean’s mouth, because of course it was. Not as terrible as it could have been, at least. He pressed on, despite Cas’ slightly startled expression. “Uh. Listen, Jack, did you… do something?”

“I do lots of things,” Jack said amiably. “I ate a Snickers bar that Cas brought me – he promised it wasn’t from your cabinet, though.” He pointed a concerned look at Cas.

Cas looked away, suddenly interested in the woodgrain of the dresser.

Dean stepped into the room. “I wouldn’t care if it was. I buy them for you, anyway.” Ugh.

Jack’s eyes brightened. Dean quietly added his private candy stash to the list of casualties today.

“But, um. I think something stole my brain-to-mouth filter,” and I’m kinda freaking out, “and if it’s just you, I’m not actually that worried. Pretty sure it’d be healthy to get some things out, anyway.”

Cas turned sharply toward Jack, who was sporting a soft smile. “Jack, you didn’t…”

“You were telling me he has a hard time ‘speaking his truth,’” Jack said. “I just wanted to make that easier. Not forever,” he clarified, looking kindly back at Dean, “just for a little while.”

Cas looked mildly horrified. “That wasn’t what I–”

“Cas, would you come to your room with me?” Dean said. When Jack’s face lit up with amusement (and maybe a little pride?) Dean huffed, “It’s not a sex thing!”

“Of course,” Cas answered gravely. His eyes fell as he stood. “Dean, I’m sorry. I never wanted your autonomy to be overridden–”

“It’s not,” Dean interrupted. “I just want what I want and it’s coming out easier. Like way easier, though, and I don’t really want to embarrass myself in front of Jack even though I know he wouldn’t care but it still makes me uncomfortable because I want him to look up to me and I think I need to maintain a certain façade of traditional masculinity to do that, so...” His lungs hadn’t been quite prepared for this length of ramble and he pulled in a deep, rasping breath to refill them, “...so can we please go?”

Jack smiled gently. “Dean, I… I’d look up to you no matter what.”

A sudden prickle threatened behind Dean’s eyelashes. His mouth actually failed to make words for a moment. Eventually, he managed to croak, “Thank you.”

—

Chapter 3

#SPNfluffsgiving2020 #stringswork #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Jack Kline #Destiel #Speak Your Truth #tickle fic

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wordstrings · 4 years

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Speak Your Truth (ch. 3)

For the I Fixed/Fic’d It: A Supernatural Fluffsgiving Event! Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

—

Chapter 3

Words: 1,200

The halls between Jack’s and Cas’ rooms were quiet. Cas trailed a quarter stride behind, as if preparing to be scolded, and that was so not the vibe Dean wanted right now. He needed Cas to have a little more pep in his step if this next part were to be as fun as he hoped.

“C’mere,” Dean said, and held out his hand.

Cas looked down at it blankly. Dean slowed. Cas slowed with him, until they both stopped, standing at angles to each other in a bare stretch of tiled hallway.

Dean twitched his fingers encouragingly. Cas just stared.

“Holding hands is new to you, huh?”

“This is… what you want?” Cas asked.

Dean frowned. “‘Course it’s what I want. Didn’t we just establish that’s kind of the whole deal right now?”

“But you… you haven’t…” Cas pursed his lips hesitantly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Dean screwed up his face in confusion. “What? No, I haven’t. We’re in the same room, like, eighty percent of the time. This is the first time I’ve had to actually go looking for you in days.”

Cas finally met his eyes. “Emotionally, I mean. Since pulling me out, you’ve barely spoken to me.”

There it was – that feeling Dean had never wanted to experience again, that he’d felt more times now than he cared to count, that he’d last felt on the cold concrete floor of that deep underground room he’d circumvented now for weeks – that feeling of his heart dropping out of his chest.

The horror of it this time was realizing that Cas was right.

The pleasing mantra of Cas loving him only lived inside his head. Outside of it, Dean had been clammed up, tensed up, looking up for those nonexistent puppet strings. When Cas was across the room, Dean didn’t know how to approach him. And when Cas was standing next to him, Dean couldn’t figure out what to say. Had he been so caught up in his own tongue-tied confusion of his newfound freedom that he’d actually… done nothing external at all? But, wait–

“I kissed you!”

Cas drew his brows together. “In the Empty? Dean, you were panicking.”

“But I still meant it. Wait, you think I don’t… you think I don’t want you?”

“I think,” Cas said carefully, painfully, slowly, “that you don’t want to want me.”

Fuck, Dean needed to zip-tie his heart in place inside his ribcage. His waiting hand grabbed forcefully at Cas’ listless one.

“Cas, I want you.” He could feel more words swelling his throat and he took a full breath in preparation. Oh crap, here we go.

“You’re the best thing I’ve had, ever since I met you. You’re not a problem, or a failure, no matter what you’ve done – or crap I know I’ve said, god, I’m so sorry it hurts – that made you feel like you are. Back in Purgatory, I know you heard me when I said I forgive you, but I’ve never been sure that you listened, you know? It scares me that you might still think I just… tolerate you, man. You don’t have to be useful in order for me to care about you. You make me happy just being here and being you, Cas. God, you make me so damn happy.

“You never saw me, how I was after I lost you. Not just this last time, but every time. I got so fucking sad, and I drank way too much just to numb it out, and Sam, he tried to lift me up out of it but I just sank so low that I just wanted to drown and give it all up. And the only thing, the only thing, that made it better, was you. Getting you back. Hugging you so tight like I never wanted to let you go again, except I was always scared that you didn’t actually want to stay with me, so I let go, no matter how much it broke my heart every time. And then I got mad, because I didn’t know how else to cope, and I ended up hurting you again, and again. But you kept coming back, no matter how awful I’d been, and that made me scared again. Scared because I didn’t know what to do if you actually did want to stay with me. That was too big, and too good, and I didn’t think I deserved it.

“But then you said it. You said all of it, out loud, right to my face, and I just… I froze. I froze, and you were taken away from me, again, and I knew that when I got you back – because I was gonna get you back, no matter what it cost – I wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. I was going to make sure you knew that I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you. But… but I didn’t. I thought I showed you, but I didn’t, because I was still scared.

“There were times, before, where… where you would have been right. Where I didn’t want to want you, because that was so terrifying I couldn’t even stand to think about it. But I still did. Want you. And god, I still do. Even more. Always more, every damn day. I’m still working on not being scared, Cas, but I want you. I need you. I love you. I have for so long, I don’t even know when it started, but it’s real and you need to know it. I need you to know it. I need you to know that I love you back.”

Dean blinked, trying to clear away the watery blur that fuzzed out the details of Cas’ face. His hand was white-knuckled around Cas’ and he was maybe a bit shaky but he felt… He couldn’t even identify how he felt. He definitely needed more zip ties in his chest because his heart was still out of place, though now it was more floating up behind his sternum and pushing against his throat. There was tension pulling on his cheeks, around his eyes; a smile that didn’t feel worthy of the name, somehow so much bigger and softer than that trite word, and he couldn’t have stopped it even if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.

Cas was staring at him. A slow, hopeful curve was bending his lips. He asked, gently, “How do you feel right now?”

“Like I’m ready to float away,” Dean said breathlessly, brokenly.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” Again, a word that seemed so trite, but felt bigger than any syllable had right to.

Cas nodded knowingly.

Oh. Oh, shit, he knew. Of course Cas knew exactly what this felt like.

“You… Can you say it again?” Dean rasped, still trying to hold all the pieces of his chest together. “So… so I can…?”

Cas stepped closer. He took Dean’s other hand, too, now quietly holding both between them.

For the second time, for the eternal time, Cas said,

“I love you.”

The breath Dean drew to answer felt like the first breath of a new cosmos.

“I love you, too.”

—

Chapter 4

#SPNfluffsgiving2020 #Supernatural #Destiel #Dean Winchester #Castiel #stringswork #Speak Your Truth #here there be feelings

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