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Being Human
Yeah... y'know how kink memes are for porn? This is not porn. This quite possibly the schmoopiest, most vanilla thing I have ever written. I believe I'm turning into one of those schmoop people that gushes cotton candy and pisses chocolate sauce.
I also failed on the title and let the mod slap one on for me :P
Being Human
G | Dean, Castiel (nonsquinty preslash) | ~500
Fallen!Cas has a panic attack. There's hugging involved.
Castiel's just woken up, taken a piss, and sat down to a Styrofoam carton of pancakes from one of the diners Sam and Dean frequent. They've been leaving him alone. They help if he has questions, but mostly they just stay away. Castiel pulls the lid of the carton up, it squeaks loudly, takes one look at the stale pancakes and clots of congealed syrup and thinks, this is what the rest of my life will be like.
His next breath catches in the back of his throat. His hand shakes on the table.
Suddenly it's hard to breathe, and he swallows nervously, trying to dislodge whatever's blocking his throat. Castiel's eyes sting and his vision goes blurry. He stands up so fast he knocks the chair over, and swings one hand out, backhanding the little Styrofoam box of pancakes onto the floor. He leans forward, fists resting on the table, little hitching breaths making him lightheaded.
"Jesus, Cas," he hears. "What did the pancakes do to you?"
Dean's walking in the door, Sam looking in nervously behind him, and that's it. His vision blurs over completely for a second and he feels hot tears running over his face. Without thinking, he brings his hands up to cover his face, threading fingers through his hair. He can't be crying in front of Dean, he can't be. The door shuts with a click.
"Cas," Dean says again. "C'mon, you gotta breathe, man." Low, soothing, the tone he would use talking to a frightened animal. His hands, warm and heavy, land on Castiel's shoulders awkwardly. Dean shouldn't have to do this, it's obvious how much he loathes it.
"Leave," Castiel demands, voice high-pitched between sobs. "Go away."
"No," Dean says, tightening his grip on Castiel. He can almost see the stubborn set of Dean's jaw as he says it, even through closed eyes. Dean's grip tightens again, briefly, before his hands slide off Castiel's shoulders and around his back, pulling him close. His elbows hit Dean's chest and Dean's chin touches his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Castiel asks, startled. Dean hates this sort of thing.
"Hugging you," he says dryly, voice rumbling near Cas' ear. "Tell anyone and you die." A laugh his startled out of Castiel, a happier sort of sob, muffled in his hands. It is comforting, having Dean this close to him. Grounding him with his warm arms and soft voice.
His hands snake away from his face and around Dean. His fingernails dig into the fabric of Dean's shirt.
"Sam had better not be watching through the window," Dean says. Castiel laughs again. He's still crying, but not as much. He's incredibly aware of how swollen his face feels, and the moisture slicking his skin. He licks his upper lip and tastes salt.
"I don't think he is," Castiel whispers back. Really he has no idea, but Dean seems to relax a bit, arms slacking against him. "I don't like being human."
"Being human sucks," Dean agrees. Castiel closes his eyes, rests his head on Dean's shoulder, and holds his breath.
~fin
I also failed on the title and let the mod slap one on for me :P
Being Human
G | Dean, Castiel (nonsquinty preslash) | ~500
Fallen!Cas has a panic attack. There's hugging involved.
Castiel's just woken up, taken a piss, and sat down to a Styrofoam carton of pancakes from one of the diners Sam and Dean frequent. They've been leaving him alone. They help if he has questions, but mostly they just stay away. Castiel pulls the lid of the carton up, it squeaks loudly, takes one look at the stale pancakes and clots of congealed syrup and thinks, this is what the rest of my life will be like.
His next breath catches in the back of his throat. His hand shakes on the table.
Suddenly it's hard to breathe, and he swallows nervously, trying to dislodge whatever's blocking his throat. Castiel's eyes sting and his vision goes blurry. He stands up so fast he knocks the chair over, and swings one hand out, backhanding the little Styrofoam box of pancakes onto the floor. He leans forward, fists resting on the table, little hitching breaths making him lightheaded.
"Jesus, Cas," he hears. "What did the pancakes do to you?"
Dean's walking in the door, Sam looking in nervously behind him, and that's it. His vision blurs over completely for a second and he feels hot tears running over his face. Without thinking, he brings his hands up to cover his face, threading fingers through his hair. He can't be crying in front of Dean, he can't be. The door shuts with a click.
"Cas," Dean says again. "C'mon, you gotta breathe, man." Low, soothing, the tone he would use talking to a frightened animal. His hands, warm and heavy, land on Castiel's shoulders awkwardly. Dean shouldn't have to do this, it's obvious how much he loathes it.
"Leave," Castiel demands, voice high-pitched between sobs. "Go away."
"No," Dean says, tightening his grip on Castiel. He can almost see the stubborn set of Dean's jaw as he says it, even through closed eyes. Dean's grip tightens again, briefly, before his hands slide off Castiel's shoulders and around his back, pulling him close. His elbows hit Dean's chest and Dean's chin touches his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Castiel asks, startled. Dean hates this sort of thing.
"Hugging you," he says dryly, voice rumbling near Cas' ear. "Tell anyone and you die." A laugh his startled out of Castiel, a happier sort of sob, muffled in his hands. It is comforting, having Dean this close to him. Grounding him with his warm arms and soft voice.
His hands snake away from his face and around Dean. His fingernails dig into the fabric of Dean's shirt.
"Sam had better not be watching through the window," Dean says. Castiel laughs again. He's still crying, but not as much. He's incredibly aware of how swollen his face feels, and the moisture slicking his skin. He licks his upper lip and tastes salt.
"I don't think he is," Castiel whispers back. Really he has no idea, but Dean seems to relax a bit, arms slacking against him. "I don't like being human."
"Being human sucks," Dean agrees. Castiel closes his eyes, rests his head on Dean's shoulder, and holds his breath.
~fin