Be there in the Morning
Dec. 8th, 2014 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
majestic_duxkTitle: Be There in the Morning
Author: majestic_duxk
Pairings: Dean and Cas
Rating: G
kinks/warnings: crying!cas, fallen!cas, angst, cuddles, dean is the big spoon
Word Count: 750
Summary: written for a kinkmeme prompt that I kinda missed them important bit of: A newly human Castiel has a bad dream and crawls into bed with Dean, fluff and cuddling ensue. Dean can either be aware of Cas getting into bed with him, or be very surprised to wake up cuddled up to Cas. Pre established relationship, pre-slash or gen, I just would really love some Dean/Cas sleepy cuddling.
an: this fulfils a square on my spn_pairing bingo card.
Castiel wasn’t used to these things.
These feelings.
He had no idea how humans coped on a day to day basis. He felt terror and grief and relief and uncertainty all at once.
He was assaulted from every side with doubt and pain. And was alone. So alone.
Even cut off from Heaven as he had been, the muffled sound of his brothers and sisters had been his constant companion. They had cut him off – yes – but unless one had lost their grace – completely lost their grace – there was no way to stop the overflow.
But now he had. Completely lost his grace.
And now he was. Completely alone.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, wrapped in his sorrow and grief. A loud sound disturbed him. It was unsettling to realise it was him. Moving a hand to his chest, he felt it heave, felt the catch of a sob on his throat. Slowly moving his other hand to his face he felt wetness. Tears, he realised.
He sat a moment. What had Dean said?
This is your room, Cas. But if you need anything, come see me.
Castiel needed something. He just didn’t know what. Roughly scrubbing the tears from his eyes he pulled back the covers and climbed in. Surely sleep would help.
--
Uriel’s angel blade was Castiel’s throat. There was blood on the floor. The bodies of angels lay around him, wings black marks, heralding their death.
“This is your fault,” Uriel hissed. “If not for your free will none would have had to fall.”
There is nothing Castiel can say.
Because it’s true. The reasons don’t matter. They don’t justify the end. If not for Castiel there would still be a heavenly chorus.
Castiel closes his eyes, and waits for his end.
“Oh, Castiel,” Uriel whispers in his ear. “You don’t think it will be that easy?”
--
Castiel jerked awake as the blade touched his wing. He went to shake them out, to be certain Uriel did not harm.
And he remembered.
All lost, he thought to himself. All lost and all my fault. My brothers and sisters are gone. I am alone.
The tears were back.
As wetness dripped from his chin, splashing on the sheet beneath him, Dean’s face appeared before him. As did Dean’s offer of… Offer of what? Help? Solace?
Without thinking, Castiel slipped from the bed. Dean’s room was only four doors away. He could make it those four doors. But when he reached his endpoint, Castiel poised.
What was he supposed to say?
He dithered at the door. What if… what if Dean rejected him? What if Dean said come back in the morning. Maybe he should do that. Humans had interesting ideas about sociable hours and things. Castiel had almost convinced himself to go back to his room when the door opened.
A sleep ruffled Dean stood there, wearing boxers, bed hair and a squint.
“Cas?”
Castiel opened his mouth to apologise. Or explain. To say something that would explain his present at Dean’s door at this unsociable hour. Instead, all that escaped was a broken, “Dean…”
Dean didn’t even have to think. He hustled the angel – former angel – into his room, before pushing him to the bed. Cas looked… little and lost. Nothing like his former self. That’s because he’s not, you dick, Dean berated himself.
Making sure Cas would stay, Dean headed to bathroom, dampening a washcloth and returning quickly.
The sight on the bed broke his heart: Cas had curled up as small as he could. His body wracked with silent sobs, his face glistening with tears.
Dean dropped the washcloth and crawled on the bed, enveloping Cas with his bigger body. He wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Cas’s back, feeling his body shake with his friends’.
“Oh, Cas.”
There wasn’t much he could say.
Dean held him until the shudders stopped. Dean held him until the muffled sobs slowed and his breath evened. Dean held Castiel until his eyes shut and sleep finally overtook him.
Keeping an arm around his waist, Dean manoeuvred them under the covers. Once settled, he pulled the sleeping man in close, nestling his nose against Castiel’s nape. He threw a leg over his hips, surrounding him as much as humanly possible. He stayed like that until he fell asleep, and he’d be there when they both woke.
Dean couldn’t do much to ease Castiel’s pain, but he would be there in the morning.
Author: majestic_duxk
Pairings: Dean and Cas
Rating: G
kinks/warnings: crying!cas, fallen!cas, angst, cuddles, dean is the big spoon
Word Count: 750
Summary: written for a kinkmeme prompt that I kinda missed them important bit of: A newly human Castiel has a bad dream and crawls into bed with Dean, fluff and cuddling ensue. Dean can either be aware of Cas getting into bed with him, or be very surprised to wake up cuddled up to Cas. Pre established relationship, pre-slash or gen, I just would really love some Dean/Cas sleepy cuddling.
an: this fulfils a square on my spn_pairing bingo card.
Castiel wasn’t used to these things.
These feelings.
He had no idea how humans coped on a day to day basis. He felt terror and grief and relief and uncertainty all at once.
He was assaulted from every side with doubt and pain. And was alone. So alone.
Even cut off from Heaven as he had been, the muffled sound of his brothers and sisters had been his constant companion. They had cut him off – yes – but unless one had lost their grace – completely lost their grace – there was no way to stop the overflow.
But now he had. Completely lost his grace.
And now he was. Completely alone.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, wrapped in his sorrow and grief. A loud sound disturbed him. It was unsettling to realise it was him. Moving a hand to his chest, he felt it heave, felt the catch of a sob on his throat. Slowly moving his other hand to his face he felt wetness. Tears, he realised.
He sat a moment. What had Dean said?
This is your room, Cas. But if you need anything, come see me.
Castiel needed something. He just didn’t know what. Roughly scrubbing the tears from his eyes he pulled back the covers and climbed in. Surely sleep would help.
--
Uriel’s angel blade was Castiel’s throat. There was blood on the floor. The bodies of angels lay around him, wings black marks, heralding their death.
“This is your fault,” Uriel hissed. “If not for your free will none would have had to fall.”
There is nothing Castiel can say.
Because it’s true. The reasons don’t matter. They don’t justify the end. If not for Castiel there would still be a heavenly chorus.
Castiel closes his eyes, and waits for his end.
“Oh, Castiel,” Uriel whispers in his ear. “You don’t think it will be that easy?”
--
Castiel jerked awake as the blade touched his wing. He went to shake them out, to be certain Uriel did not harm.
And he remembered.
All lost, he thought to himself. All lost and all my fault. My brothers and sisters are gone. I am alone.
The tears were back.
As wetness dripped from his chin, splashing on the sheet beneath him, Dean’s face appeared before him. As did Dean’s offer of… Offer of what? Help? Solace?
Without thinking, Castiel slipped from the bed. Dean’s room was only four doors away. He could make it those four doors. But when he reached his endpoint, Castiel poised.
What was he supposed to say?
He dithered at the door. What if… what if Dean rejected him? What if Dean said come back in the morning. Maybe he should do that. Humans had interesting ideas about sociable hours and things. Castiel had almost convinced himself to go back to his room when the door opened.
A sleep ruffled Dean stood there, wearing boxers, bed hair and a squint.
“Cas?”
Castiel opened his mouth to apologise. Or explain. To say something that would explain his present at Dean’s door at this unsociable hour. Instead, all that escaped was a broken, “Dean…”
Dean didn’t even have to think. He hustled the angel – former angel – into his room, before pushing him to the bed. Cas looked… little and lost. Nothing like his former self. That’s because he’s not, you dick, Dean berated himself.
Making sure Cas would stay, Dean headed to bathroom, dampening a washcloth and returning quickly.
The sight on the bed broke his heart: Cas had curled up as small as he could. His body wracked with silent sobs, his face glistening with tears.
Dean dropped the washcloth and crawled on the bed, enveloping Cas with his bigger body. He wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Cas’s back, feeling his body shake with his friends’.
“Oh, Cas.”
There wasn’t much he could say.
Dean held him until the shudders stopped. Dean held him until the muffled sobs slowed and his breath evened. Dean held Castiel until his eyes shut and sleep finally overtook him.
Keeping an arm around his waist, Dean manoeuvred them under the covers. Once settled, he pulled the sleeping man in close, nestling his nose against Castiel’s nape. He threw a leg over his hips, surrounding him as much as humanly possible. He stayed like that until he fell asleep, and he’d be there when they both woke.
Dean couldn’t do much to ease Castiel’s pain, but he would be there in the morning.
