tracy_loo_who | Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (17/18)

Title: And I Will Walk On Water (17/18)
Characters: Dean and Castiel, Sam, Lucifer, Michael, Chuck
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~6,000
Notes: Beta'd by

ibroketuesday, whom I love.
Summary: This is how the apocalypse ends.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

The sight of Lucifer's smirk brought horror and dread and loathing, but mostly, it brought anger. They'd tried so hard, been so careful, and done so well, and even though Dean had always known they couldn't run forever, it didn't make him any less furious that this was how it was going to end, here in some guy's bedroom in the middle of nowhere. They deserved better than this, especially Castiel, whose biggest crime was opening a door and who'd already paid for it so dearly.

Dean suddenly thought back to the first time he'd met Castiel, the angel who'd walked into his life in a shower of sparks, invincible and confident in his purpose, and told Dean he'd gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. Not a year later Lucifer had come strolling in to their rescue and Castiel had almost welcomed death at his hands because he'd lost everything he'd ever existed for and been broken so completely. But now Castiel was finally being his own person and learning how to live for the first time in his existence, and Dean thought of him standing naked in front of the mirror, confessing softly that he didn't want to die. He'd come so far but still had so many things to do with his life, and Lucifer had no right to take that from him. Dean's lips pulled back over his teeth.

"I'm not letting you get your hands on either of them," he growled, stepping right up into Lucifer's personal space and blocking him from both Castiel and Sam, for all the good it would do. They made small noises of alarm behind him, but Dean didn't care anymore. He was done being afraid of this evil son of a bitch, and he was done running. Running hadn't helped anyway.

Lucifer's smirk faded and he regarded Dean with a deadly calmness, eyes narrowed. "You think you can stop me?" As he spoke, the sky darkened outside, like the devil's presence was enough to block out the sun itself.

"No," Dean said with a slight shake of his head. "But I'm gonna fucking try."

"Don't think I'll hesitate to kill you along with your precious angel, Dean," he warned. "You're turning out to be a far bigger inconvenience than you're worth."

Dean sneered in his face. "What are you waiting for?"

For a moment Lucifer seemed faintly surprised, though Dean couldn't see it in his expression so much as he could feel it in the dark, oppressive aura that surrounded them. For just that moment it became a touch less menacing as Lucifer said, "You could have had anything you wanted if you'd joined me. I'd have given you all of it." He paused before adding, "In fact, you can still have all of it. As a token of my mercy, I'll give you one last chance to step aside now."

"Fuck you," Dean spat. "You wanna know what I want? Fine, I want Sam and Cas to be safe and free and happy, that's what I want."

Lucifer's upper lip curled faintly. "It's too late for Castiel. But everything else you want--"

Dean's anger finally boiled over at the fucking nerve Lucifer had and he blew up. "It's too late for everything else! I want my parents to have never made deals with your yellow-eyed lapdog, I want them to still be alive and together, I want Sam to have gotten his Stanford degree and married Jess by now, I want Bobby to still have his wife and Ellen to still have her husband, I want all of those other millions of people who died since you rose to still be alive and with their families, I want Cas to have never been--"

He stopped shouting suddenly when he felt another presence start to thrum in the room, one that was somehow familiar but infinitely more than anything Dean had encountered before. It was just as vast and terrifying as Lucifer's presence but it was right where Lucifer's felt wrong. What's more, it seemed to feed on Dean's anger and condense around him from every direction, cloaking him in its power and making the ground tremble beneath its wrath. A low, thunderous rumble began to pervade the air, and Dean shifted on his feet.

Lucifer also shifted and his eyes darted around uneasily. Even though Dean wasn't entirely sure what was happening, he felt emboldened enough to keep talking above the noise. "Out of all of those things, Sam and Cas are the only ones it's not too late for. So when I said I wasn't going to let you get your hands on them, I fucking meant it."

Dean had leaned in toward Lucifer even further during his tirade, and now they were only inches apart. If this was going to be his end, then he would go out with this much satisfaction, at least; he spat in the devil's face.

Lucifer's expression immediately distorted into one of sheer rage, and he raised a hand to strike Dean.

"Dean!" he heard Sam and Castiel yell, but before Dean could do more than flinch and squeeze his eyes shut, Lucifer went flying backwards to tumble over furniture and smash against the wall.

When Dean's eyes snapped open, his heart leapt. Both Sam and Castiel were now beside him, but Dean wasn't paying attention to them. Michael was standing between him and Lucifer, and even though his vessel was slight of build, he seemed far too immense to be contained in the small room. The curtains on the window billowed violently, and the light on the ceiling shattered glass around them.

"I cannot let you harm him," Michael said imperiously, in a voice that would have made Dean quail but which Lucifer only sneered at as he got back to his feet.

"I was wondering when you'd show your face, brother." His voice softened deceptively on the last word, into a sinister drawl that put Dean on edge even more than his open threats had.

For one breathless, crystallized moment, Michael and Lucifer stared each other down, appraising each other, and Dean's heart could have stopped as he waited for the ball to drop. This was it. This was the moment where the two most powerful supernatural beings God had ever created came head to head and decided the fate of the Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Dean could feel the coiled power emanating off of each of them and circling each other, testing each other, bracing to eradicate each other.

They waited for it.

But nothing happened.

Lucifer brushed dirt off of his shoulder and said, "Protect the humans if you must. My business is with Castiel today."

When Michael hesitated, Dean's stomach dropped. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled the archangel around roughly so that they were facing each other and Dean could lay into him. "What the hell are you waiting for? Kill him!"

"My orders--"

"Fuck your orders!" Dean snarled. "How can you still be thinking about orders right now when you know the right thing to do?"

Michael narrowed his eyes at him, and Dean's heart sank at the uncertainty he saw. If Michael didn't do this now, then it would be over for all of them.

Lucifer seemed to grow stronger on Michael's hesitance, his blackness swallowing some more of the light in the room and casting shadows that loomed ever closer. His lips curved up at a corner as he said, "Loyal to Father until the very end; some things never change. I would expect nothing less from you, Michael, but I know what you're thinking. You wish you knew His will." A flash of lightning lit Lucifer's features in a blinding flash as he stepped forward and commanded, "Look at me, brother." Michael was already looking. "I am here, and I am a testament to His will."

"He's wrong," Sam hissed frantically. "He's going to destroy Cas and every human soul your God created and it's wrong and you know it!"

"Ah, but he doesn't," Lucifer drawled. "Michael only knows what he's told."

Michael's eyes kept darting between all of them, and his whole body was tensed for action, but still he did nothing. Dean felt like he was losing the already slippery grip he had on Michael, and he was running out of words.

But he couldn't believe it could really end like this, when they were so close; couldn't believe Michael could really let Lucifer win. He shouted at Michael in a last, violently desperate attempt to sway him, "You're supposed to have faith!" It brought Michael's gaze around to settle on Dean, and he barreled on. "Dad not around? Fine, you have faith in yourself because He made you to have faith in yourself. I did when my dad went missing, Cas did too, and now it's your turn. You can end this, Michael. You can save everyone."

Dean knew it the moment Michael made up his mind. He could feel the archangel's will sear right through him as though it was an actual force.

Lucifer knew it too, and he let out a snarl from where he was standing and attacked. The entire bed went flying toward Michael, and Lucifer followed it.

"Enough!" Michael bellowed, and the force of his voice blew out the windows and hurled Dean backwards.

Someone tackled him from the side as he flew and crushed him bodily to the floor.

Only it wasn't the floor of the bedroom he landed on, but damp grass and mud that trembled beneath him. The weight on top of Dean knocked the breath out of him, and not a second later there was a small explosion from a few hundred yards away that rattled his bones.

"Sam!" he wheezed, jerking his head up in a panic to see what was going on. The top of his head slammed into someone's jaw in a burst of pain so sharp Dean momentarily went hazy.

To his relief, he could hear Sam's voice from not too far off to the side, saying, "I'm right here." He sounded breathless but otherwise just fine.

Dean was shaking from adrenaline and sudden relief at the fact that Michael had finally made up his mind and they'd all gotten away from Lucifer somehow, but now his most pressing concern of the moment was the intense throbbing in his head. It felt like he'd been clubbed with an iron baseball bat. Freaking angel. "Ow."

"My apologies," Castiel said sheepishly from somewhere above his head, and then Castiel shifted off of him and into the space between him and Sam while Dean touched the bump on his head gingerly.

Then he remembered there were more important things going on, a second later when another blast took off the entire roof of the house they'd been in and what looked like two of the four walls. Chunks of it went flying in every direction, and Dean watched the entire thing with his jaw hanging loose. He pushed himself up with some difficulty to sit back on his heels.

"This is the end," Castiel breathed, and Dean turned to see him watching the scene in wide-eyed awe. In a world that was dark when it should have been sunny and quaking around them so hard it was uprooting trees and threatening to tear the ground apart under the sheer force of the battle, Castiel was the only figure who held still, firm and steadfast beside him. On Castiel's other side, Dean could see Sam, also slack jawed and trembling.

Dean turned back to the scene before them and tried to believe that the world might really be saved after all this time. He almost couldn't. And yet he could, because part of Dean had already known, back in that room, that it couldn't be any other way. He felt a rush of light-headed hope, but also anxiety, because Castiel had been right. This was the end, and if Michael couldn't do this, then no one could.

Thunder split the air suddenly, and Castiel hissed, "Close your eyes!" He threw one arm around Dean's head to shield him, and his other hand shot out to force Sam to the ground. Dean closed his eyes immediately, but even through his eyelids and Castiel's forearm, he was almost blinded by the white light that erupted from the house. It seemed all-consuming in its intensity, and as Dean turned his head to burrow instinctively into the darkness and safety of Castiel's trench coat, a sound that could only be the entire house splintering reached his ears. A moment later, one final, colossal explosion sent a wave of power hurtling outward to knock him out.

Dean regained consciousness only minutes later, and all was quiet. The earthquake had stopped, he was fine, and his face was still buried against folds of trench coat while Castiel held him upright. Sam groaned softly from the ground on Castiel's other side. Once the disorientation had passed, Dean opened his eyes and turned his face toward the house.

There was no house anymore. In fact, there wasn't even much of the ground left anymore because a giant chasm now stretched at least two hundred yards around where the house had been. It was charred and blackened against the bright sky and they were less than fifty yards away from the edge.

A heartbeat of trepidation later, Dean asked, voice barely above a whisper, "Who won?"

And Castiel said calmly, "Michael."

***

Everything that happened after that passed in a bit of a blur for Dean, who couldn't quite keep up with the flurry of activity that Castiel kept hearing about via angel radio. Apparently at least some of them were letting him tune in again, which Dean supposed was a good thing, but he didn't like what they were hearing.

With Lucifer dead, demons all around the world were acting like it was their last night on earth and determined to go out with a bang. Millions of innocent people suffered for it, and the angels who did break rank and try to stop them were harassed by those still loyal to Zachariah. Many got caught in those crossfires too, and when they weren't out there hunting, Dean was grinding his teeth and pacing around their motel room, unable to sleep.

Calling Bobby and catching him up on everything distracted him for a little while, but after Bobby had his moment of telling Dean and Sam how proud of them he was, he moved on to huff at them for saving the world without him and told them they could keep on doing it because he was going to bed.

Castiel delivered all the news dispassionately, and even though Dean knew how much he cared -- how much it must mean to him that the angels he'd set out to persuade were really being persuaded -- the tone made him snappy and restless and somehow added to his sense of helplessness. If he'd thought the end of Lucifer would immediately bring peace and happiness, he'd been wrong.

But less than thirty hours after Lucifer's fall, Michael apparently decided he was sick of all this shit and kicked some angel asses, including Zachariah's, and that was when Castiel finally lost his impassive tone and looked to Dean with wide eyes.

"Guess there's gonna be some changes up there in Heaven, huh," Sam said, sounding impressed.

Apparently he wasn't impressed enough. "For the first time in thousands of years," Castiel emphasized.

"Change you can believe in," Dean quipped with a smirk. But in all honesty, he was strangely proud of Michael. The guy was unifying angels around the world in their demon hunts, and he sounded absolutely terrifying. Dean grinned when he heard about the way Zachariah had groveled for mercy. Things were going to take a turn for the better, he knew.

For now, Dean shut Castiel up with a light kiss, and for once he didn't even care that Sam was in the room. Sam didn't really care either, it seemed; he just snorted and shook his head and got out his laptop.

Castiel kissed him back with faint surprise, and Dean said, "Just tell me everything's gonna be okay."

He felt Castiel's lips pull into a tiny smile against his as he told him solemnly, "Everything is going to be okay."

Dean believed him. The tension that had been coiled tightly inside his muscles since they'd first laid eyes on Lucifer the day before finally unwound and drained away from him, and Dean relaxed into Castiel as he pressed their foreheads together. Castiel's arms came up around his waist to hold him loosely, and it was the first quiet moment they'd shared in what was supposed to be their life after the apocalypse. It was a little surreal because for the very first time, Dean looked into Castiel's eyes and found himself wondering if he could actually keep this. He'd never dared, before, to have more than a few fleeting, fanciful thoughts about anything more than what he had right in front of him, never dared to really think about having any sort of future, but now--

The moment was ruined by Sam pointedly clearing his throat.

Dean rolled his eyes and reluctantly pulled away from Castiel to go flop onto the couch next to his brother and peer at his laptop screen. Sam was looking up nice restaurants in the area, and he asked lightly, "Anything look good to you?"

Everything looked good to him. Dean perked up instantly at the prospect of food and pointed randomly as Sam scrolled through the list. His finger landed on the All American Bistro, and Dean announced with great satisfaction, "Bistro it is, then."

***

When they got there, Chuck surprised them with a bright smile and a huge banner hanging from the low ceiling that read, in large, colorful lettering, Happy End of the End of the World! (Dean didn't look too closely, but he suspected Chuck might have added some sparkles.)

Sam snorted in faint amusement, Castiel tilted his head at the banner, and Dean clapped Chuck on the back with a lopsided grin. "Does this mean my steak and mashed potatoes are ready?"

His steak and mashed potatoes were indeed ready, just how he liked them -- in double portions, even, so he would have enough to share with Castiel. Sam's "pan-seared roasted chicken breasts" that would more aptly be named "various things plucked from the mud somewhere plus a few bits of chicken" were also ready, and the cute waitress brought out the dishes and a nice bottle of wine as soon as they were seated.

They hadn't seen Chuck for the better part of a year since Zachariah had kept such a close eye on him, so now they spent some time catching up while they ate. Of course, Chuck didn't need to hear about what they'd been up to, but he told them about how he'd been relocated to a much larger and more elaborate version of the green room after his house had been destroyed by the archangels.

"It wasn't so bad, actually," he said between large gulps of his wine. (Dean noticed he still seemed to drink more than he ate.) "It's not like they took away my phone or internet or kept me locked indoors. They even let me have a pet hedgehog."

"You have a pet hedgehog?" Sam asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Well, yeah," Chuck replied, almost with a hint of defensiveness. "Why do you think I didn't blow up some balloons for today? They don't get along with Frodo too well."

Dean paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and asked, "Wait, is he here?"

"He is under the table," Castiel informed him, and right on cue, Dean felt something sniff his leg.

He jumped and very nearly yelped as well, and Sam let out a laugh and bent to retrieve the small hedgehog from where it was poking its nose above the rim of a flower pot. It fit right in his hand, and Dean muttered under his breath, "Yeah, trust Sam to be all over Frodo."

The waitress showed up to replenish their wine glasses then, and Dean gave her his customary charming smile and a wink as he thanked her. He was put out when she kept eyeing Sam and that damn hedgehog like they were the cutest pair she'd ever seen and barely even looked at Dean.

Castiel did look at Dean, his eyes flickering briefly from Dean to the waitress and then back to Dean again before he lowered his gaze. Dean was caught between feeling guilty and being amused at this hint of jealousy, but in the end he nudged Castiel with a knee and said, "Aww, come on, you know I didn't mean anything by it."

Castiel looked up at him, and then over to Chuck, who chimed in from across the table to say, "Seriously, Cas, this guy spit in the devil's face for you. You have nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worried," Castiel protested stiffly.

He was slouched forward slightly in his seat, so it was easy for Dean to slip an arm around his waist and give him a small squeeze. Castiel's gaze met his again, and Dean couldn't help but smile. The waitress was attractive and easy on the eyes, sure, but Castiel sitting here beside him was the most beautiful sight Dean had ever seen in a way that filled him with a rush of gratitude. Something about this must have shown in his expression, because Castiel gave him a small, gentle smile in return. They were being girly and ridiculous in public and Dean knew it, but still, it was a little while before he reluctantly let Castiel go. Suddenly all he wanted to do was get back to their motel already so they could be alone.

Chuck seemed to be able to read his mind, or else he just had perfect timing. He turned to Sam and said, "Hey, uh, can I have my hedgehog back now?"

Sam looked up like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother until he saw that the hedgehog in his palm was busy nibbling happily on something that looked like--

"Are you feeding him scraps from my plate?" he growled.

"No," Sam lied innocently.

Dean glared and thought of several withering things to say, but in the end, he didn't say any of them. Sam really did look like a little boy with a new pet in this moment, for once free of that crushing guilt that had weighed him down since Lucifer's rise and that lingering darkness in his eyes that always lurked just under the surface. It suddenly struck Dean that this was his old Sammy, complete with that annoying bit of hair in his eyes that Dean itched to tuck behind his ear, and Dean was going to get him back. He was grateful for this too, so overwhelmingly it made him want to hug the idiot.

He didn't, of course, because he was already being girly and ridiculous enough. In public, again. Besides, Dean didn't fancy getting prickled. It was enough to sit here and bask in the fact that they had all survived, by some miracle, and were still together.

***

When they did finally make it back to the motel, Dean's plans to get Castiel alone were again thwarted by Michael suddenly appearing in the center of the room.

Still, Dean could hardly begrudge him the time, considering what he'd done earlier. "Mike!" he said brightly, and didn't miss the way both Sam and Castiel winced faintly. "What can I do for you?"

Michael regarded him with a tiny furrow between his eyebrows and a small frown, but after a moment his expression softened and his lips twitched at the corners. "You have done enough for me, Dean Winchester." Then he turned to Castiel. "I came to talk to my brother."

Dean's spirits slipped a notch. Castiel would probably welcomed back into Heaven with open arms, but instead of feeling completely happy for him, Dean couldn't help but think of it as Michael taking Castiel away from him.

Maybe Castiel could read his thoughts and maybe he couldn't, but either way, he came to stand beside Dean. "Hello, Michael."

"I am leaving your garrison and two others down here to cleanse the earth of demons," Michael told him without preamble, "but after they are done, they will return to Heaven. You are free to join them or stay, it's your decision."

Dean held his breath, but Castiel almost didn't even wait for Michael to finish speaking before he declared, "I'll stay."

Michael kept talking. "Be advised that once the other angels leave, your Grace will not be able to sustain itself on its own. You will become mortal."

There was a pause and Dean could feel Castiel hesitate beside him and glance over, but he bit his lip and looked down, determined to not meet Castiel's gaze. He knew his own eyes would only beg Castiel to stay and even though Dean knew part of him would be bitter if Castiel left, he didn't want to influence his decision.

Michael finally broke the silence to prompt, "Castiel, do you still wish to stay?"

Castiel turned back to Michael and lifted his chin almost imperceptibly. "I do."

Then there was another pause, broken only when Sam snickered. Dean suddenly got past his moment of grateful relief enough to realize how that sounded, and he felt the tips of his ears warm. Castiel looked from Sam to Dean and tilted his head, and when Dean looked back, he couldn't help but grin at Castiel. Castiel's lips quirked faintly in return.

Sam spoke up next. "So I'm guessing there's been a change in management. You're the big guy in charge now?"

Michael inclined his head in a slight nod. "I have disposed of Zachariah for the time being."

Dean had to smirk at that, and he said, "You should just gank him."

At the same time, Castiel said, "You should show him mercy."

"You're kidding me, right?" Dean gaped.

Castiel turned to look down his nose at Dean. "I am not kidding you."

"Have you forgotten all the shit he's done to you?" Dean hadn't seen this coming at all, and now he was incredulous. "How could you possibly just forgive him?"

"You would forgive your brother anything," Castiel reminded him gently, and that shut him up. "I understand now."

"How very... human of you," Michael commented mildly.

"It is," Castiel told him with a touch of defiance. "The angels would do well to learn this from humanity. You all know how to love already, but forgiveness doesn't come so easily. I think God would want this for Heaven." Dean didn't miss the way he referred to the angels as you, and somehow, that more than anything else made him sure that he and Castiel and Sam were a we.

For a long moment Michael studied Castiel closely, but this time, there was nothing threatening about it. In fact, there was almost something reverential in his expression and in his voice as he said slowly, "I think I see now why Father chose you for this mission. Very well, Castiel, I will show mercy."

Then he paused and his gaze swept over all three of them. Dean wasn't sure if he was just imagining it, but he thought Michael's gaze lingered on him the longest. A moment later, Michael was gone.

***

Dean was exhausted by the time he finally got Castiel into bed that night, but he was also high on unbelievable giddiness and couldn't stop kissing Castiel, over and over again, and whispering, "I can't believe it's really over."

Castiel smiled and kissed him back and murmured, "It was prophesied, Dean. This was always how it was going to end."

"Prophesied, my ass," Dean snorted. "In case you forgot, I sat around in the grass while Michael did all the work. How does that fit into your little prophecy?"

"Do you think anyone else could have moved an archangel and all of Heaven?" Castiel asked, drawing away just far enough to look him in the eye. "And you tell me I take things too literally."

Dean huffed at him. "Maybe I did shout at Michael a bit, but the rest of Heaven was all you, dude."

"I was the first to be moved by you," Castiel reminded him with a faint smile.

It earned him an eye roll, but then Dean really looked at Castiel, so sweet and devoted and his, and suddenly he couldn't stop himself from blurting, "Are you sure about this?" He had to ask one last time, had to know for sure, and this was it. If Castiel said yes now, Dean would believe him.

Castiel said, "Yes."

Dean made a small sound, choked and needy, and pushed Castiel onto his back so he could kiss him again and soak up this miracle that was actually happening to him. He, Dean Winchester, could finally have this, and so could an angel, and it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to Dean.

He spent the better part of the next hour kissing Castiel everywhere, on every inch of his bare skin, soft presses from his lips and tiny flicks of his tongue seeking out every sensitive spot on Castiel's body. Dean wanted to learn them all and savor and cherish them all -- the tiny spot behind Castiel's ear, the hardness of his cheekbone and jaw, the sharp ridge of his collar bone, the dip of his belly button, the warm crease between his inner thigh and pelvis, the ticklish zone on the back of his knee, the smooth expanse of his back, the arch of his foot, the soft pads of his fingers. He even kissed his way up Castiel's hard length and tasted the pool of liquid at the top, but then Dean moved on to map out the rest of Castiel's body. And if Castiel got nervous once when Dean kissed his way down his backside, well, he still trusted Dean enough to let it happen.

Castiel was quivering with need long before the end, but he reveled in the loving attention just as much as Dean reveled in giving it, so it wasn't until Dean finished and moved back up his body to kiss his lips again that Castiel cupped his cheek and whispered, "Dean, please have sex with me."

Nobody talked like that, except Castiel did, and there was something so naked about the way he said it that it was the opposite of a mood killer. "Okay," Dean said hoarsely. "Okay. But go slow. I, uh." He swallowed. "This is new to me." He wasn't worried about the pain so much as how it would feel to be breached so fully, but this was Castiel, and even though he had to share Dean with Sam and Bobby and a few others, Dean's body was all his to do whatever he wanted with. If this was what he wanted, then Dean wanted to give it to him.

But apparently it wasn't what Castiel had in mind. He shook his head and said, "No, I mean. I want you to be inside me."

Dean stilled against him in surprise. "Why would you want that?"

"It's you," Castiel said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Please."

Still, Dean hesitated. "Cas--"

"Please," Castiel repeated, softer this time, needier.

Words about not wanting to hurt him or be associated with everything that had happened to Castiel before died on Dean's lips. Castiel knew all of that, of course, and he still wanted this, so Dean had to trust that it would be okay.

He nodded and reached over the edge of the bed to dig through his bag for the lube, and then he coated two fingers with it stretched his body out beside Castiel's. Castiel bent his knees, and Dean reached around to touch him, one finger gently circling the rim. Castiel tensed, but Dean kept up the slow, soothing motion and leaned over kiss him.

"What are you waiting for?" Castiel asked, only a tiny bit shakily.

"I'm waiting for you to relax."

Castiel let out a puff of warm air against his lips and Dean could feel him force his body to relax. It happened gradually and in stages, but the more Dean kissed him, the more relaxed Castiel became, and finally Dean pushed the tip of his finger in. As he expected, all the tension in Castiel's body immediately came back, so Dean stopped and waited for him to relax again. It happened several times, this starting and stopping to wait, but Dean was as patient as he needed to be and eventually he worked his entire finger in.

By then Castiel's hardness had flagged considerably, so Dean worked on getting it back. His finger curved until he found what he was looking for, and Castiel choked off a breath as Dean rubbed at his prostate. He even squirmed a little, and after that there was no more tensing up. Castiel's body was completely loose as Dean stroked him from the inside, and the second finger went in much more easily, when Castiel was once again hard and leaking onto his stomach.

"Now, please," he breathed, but Dean ignored the request even though he half feared he'd come untouched just from listening to Castiel's voice. He kept stretching Castiel, kept working just as carefully and pleasuring him just as slowly. Castiel became more insistent, more demanding, more pleading, but Dean didn't let up until his pleas dissolved into incoherent writhing.

Only then did Dean give himself a few strokes with a slick hand and turn Castiel onto his side to press against him from behind, but Castiel came back to his senses for just long enough to roll onto his back and pull Dean on top of him and insist in a low voice, "Like this."

If Castiel wanted to be able to see him, Dean could deal with missionary. It was perfect. Castiel keened softly in pleasure when he pushed in and pulled Dean down toward him, blindly seeking his lips again, so Dean lowered himself to his elbows to catch Castiel's lips with his own while he moved inside him. He found the right angle again -- the one that made Castiel arch up to him -- and his hips settled into a rhythm that was too slow to let him come because Dean wanted this to last forever.

Suddenly this wasn't even about sex anymore, if it ever had been. This was about Dean and Castiel, joining together in their existence and moving in mutual need for one another that wasn't just that for physical release. It was about belonging together, about passion and love and completion and a thousand other things Dean would never be able to talk about out loud but which he felt so strongly it shook him to the core and terrified him. But he knew Castiel felt it too, and that made it okay. That made it more than okay.

So when Castiel came and shattered in Dean's arms with a small cry of abandon, Dean relinquished himself wholly and shattered too, inside Castiel, and they lay in pieces between the sheets, rocking and gasping and clinging and letting their pieces fit together. Dean slipped out but didn't let go or say anything afterward because he had nothing left to say that Castiel didn't already know, and Castiel held on to him tightly in the silence.

Dean fell asleep with his soul stripped bare that night for Castiel to see, but then again, Castiel had always been able to see. He trusted Castiel to stay.

Part 18

LAST TBC EVER OMG. But the final chapter will have to wait a week or so, I am leaving tomorrow (read: later today) for

vichan's house and Chicago con! \o/

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From:

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YAY OMG! I -- YOU -- THERE ARE NO WORDS.

HERE, HAVE A PRESENT:

I have literally been watching that for like, the past ten minutes, and I HAD to share. So, y'know. Enjoy. *wink*

Edited Date: 2009-11-12 10:09 am (UTC)

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From:

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From:

nanashi-o.livejournal.com

Awwwwwww!!! Fantastic chapter!!! Michael was awesome, heee, much love ♥♥♥ Glee, I'm happy and gooey and I've melted at the sweetness and cuteness of everything... I'm very floored by the chapter, it's so cute and nice and perfect and wonderful. Erm, I'm using way too many "and"s XD sorry. But yeah, yay, fic!! =3

Hee, erm, and have fun at the con =3

From:

fancy a fuck?

Fic: And I Will Walk On Water (17/18)

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