Archive of Our Own ^beta

Can you make it go away? Castiel thought, staring up at the apartment he shared with Dean, had been sharing with Dean for three years now. As far as having any breakdowns, they had actually been well maintained. Mainly because everything in his life had been perfect so far.

Lisa and Dean were friends and their divorce had remained civil, Benny and Castiel somehow kept in touch, more as acquaintances than what they had ever had. It was hard to get back the friendship they had before their engagement was broken, though Castiel missed having someone that close in his life. Someone he could go to and complain to about Dean, and they would understand because they knew what he was talking about. Because they knew Dean and they knew him too…

The friendship between Dean and Benny had become strained though. The shop was still co-owned between the two, but they took on different parts of the shop until they eventually expanded. Now they each ran a different shop and barely see other unless it was to talk shop. Literally.

Sighing and closing his eyes, he began touching his forefinger to his thumb and counting to five, then moving to his middle finger and thumb, and continued until he was done with both hands. With each finger touch, he waited for the stiffness in his muscles to relax, thinking about a time when he felt actually tired, a loving touch, a sincere compliment, and then for a time he felt content by nature.

He waited for the relaxation to hit him, wash over him, do something before he went upstairs. But of course, that stupid meditation style bullshit didn’t work. It never worked. Slamming his hands on the steering wheel, avoiding the horn this time, he got out the truck and slammed the door, locking it behind him. Stalking up to their place on the second floor, and after several tries, finally getting the key into the lock, he marched into the two-bedroom apartment.

Dropping his keys and his fished out wallet onto the table by the door, Castiel made a beeline for the kitchen, not sure what he’d find in the fridge. Swinging the door open he had to scrunch his nose up at the sight of beer. First of all, he’d have to talk with Dean about that. Second of all, why did it have to be beer?

Shrugging, Castiel grabbed one, twisted the lid off, and took a pull of the beer. Grimacing, he tilted his head back and chugged it down. Not able to stand the taste of the amber liquid, he wanted it gone as fast as possible before he changed his mind. Slamming the bottle down on the counter, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he looked at the trash can questionably… only to let out a loud belch.

“Okay, so maybe not as bad as I thought it was gonna be,” he muttered to himself before letting out another burp. Opening the fridge he grabbed a couple of more bottles and headed for the living room.  Curling up with his favorite blanket he finished off the second bottle, then nursed the third one, letting the buzz take over. But it didn’t quiet down the thoughts.

Can you make me right?

With that thought in mind, Castiel left the empty bottles on the floor and stumbled to the kitchen, blanket wrapped around him. Opening up several drawers, he eventually found the one that housed their razor blade. They had been banned for a while once Dean found out Castiel’s history, but this one just recently wiggled its way into the household. Like a family member. Now Castiel was gonna give it a proper welcome.

Grabbing another beer, he went to the half bath and sat on the floor with his blanket and razor blade.

Stretching up and sitting the beer bottle on the edge of the sink, Castiel sat back against the wall, holding up the blade and watching it in the light. It was still new, never used. His mouth watered in anticipation at the thought of finally being able to rid of himself of all the stresses from the past couple of weeks.

He knows he could have gone to Dean and talked about it. Or his mom. Maybe Kevin would be up to hearing his bitching one more time. But that’s all it is. Him bitching about all the tiny, insignificant problems in his life. And no one wants to hear about that, and he doesn’t want to bother them. There are more important things that people have to worry about besides the things that he’s got on his mind.

Can you make the thoughts all stop?

Reaching up for the beer, his fingers grazed the dark glass, before finally grasping the neck of the bottle. Castiel held on tight so as not to spill a drop and guzzled down the rest of this one. He was feeling somewhat fuzzy… buzzed… and then he remembered he hadn’t eaten all day. Shrugging to himself, he dropped the bottle beside him and went back to focusing on the object in his right hand.

So I can hide them out of sight.

A giggle slipped past his lips at the sight of bright red springing forward from the slices made across his fingers. At some point he had curled his hand around the blade, digging it into several fingers. The blood pooled into his now cupped hand, dripping onto the blanket he still had wrapped around him.

Coming out of his stupor long enough to realize that the blade was still in his hand, he plucked it up and wiped it clean on his exposed arm. He was beginning to understand that relaxation technique: he was naturally tired, and he had just felt a loving touch.

As he sliced the blade across his arm, he received his sincere compliment. The blade whispered how such a good bleeder he was, how he took the pain like he was meant to, he didn’t cry like other’s would.

So he continued.

Up and down, crisscrossing, until his forearm was nothing but red.

Until the blanket was red and the fuzziness wasn’t just from the alcohol. But he was finally relaxed and could picture a time when he was content by nature.

Castiel and Dean were standing at a swing bridge. They had just walked a trail through gardens and caverns, hiking up rocks to get to this point. There were two bridges, however, one a stone bridge and the other a swing. Of course, Dean wanted to cross the swing. Why wouldn’t he? Nothing wrong with crossing a 180-feet swinging bridge, nothing at all!

Grasping Dean’s hand as tight as he could, they stepped on it together and began their walk. They stopped nearly halfway across, Dean nudging Cas to open his eyes and look at the view in front of him.  

The sunset, a mixture of purple and orange hues, took his breath away. The sun rested on the slope of mountains in the horizon like an orange orb, slowly sinking as if the mountains were consuming the light to reveal to the dark.

“We need to get going before it gets too dark, we have to get down to the gardens for the light show,” Dean whispered in his ear, bringing him out his thoughts. With a nod, he followed Dean back the way came, across the bridge and into the darkness.

Open up your heart.

A sharp slap across the face brought him to. There was also the sound of his name being called, but that couldn’t be right. When he’d arrived home Dean wasn’t expected to arrive for another six hours. Or maybe it was four. He wasn’t quite sure anymore. The day was a blur right now. If it was even the same day.

Groaning, Castiel opened his eyes only to find a pair of peridot ones staring right into his, full of concern and anger. There may have been a flicker of relief, but it passed too quickly for him to tell. Scowling, Dean stood up and left the room, cursing Castiel’s name throughout the apartment. Mixtures of “I love you” and “wish you’d have called me” caught his ears, bringing up feelings of guilt for hurting Dean. For now, realizing what he could have done.

Take me as I am.

Dean came back with the first aid kit, some orange juice, and a cookie. Castiel blinked at the food items in confusion as they were thrust at him. All he was told was to “just eat them, dumbass” with endearment.

So Castiel sat up, with help from Dean, and nibbled on the cookie while sipping the orange juice.

He watched as Dean washed his hands and filled a bowl with water, then sat down beside him, close to his arm. Dean used a cloth to wet the wounds, then hand soap to clean them, turning the water in the bowl pink and foamy.

Castiel turned away and focused on his juice in guilt.

Rummaging through the kit and grumbling, Dean held his arm gently in one hand, the other rubbing cream from the forearm down to his fingers. The tenderness of his touch and the coolness of the cream made him want to cry for some reason. But he held it back.

After Dean washed his hands again and emptied the bowl, he sat back down and rummaged through the kit again. Following the pattern of the cream, he wrapped a strip of Coban not to tightly around Castiel’s cuts, then kissed the bandage.

Love me, hate me, break my heart.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” Dean whispered to him. Castiel nodded. “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he whispered again. Castiel nodded. “You know I’m always there for you, don’t you?” Dean leaned into him, his breath now ghosting Castiel’s ear. Castiel nodded.

“Then why didn’t you call me, angel?” he took the empty glass from Castiel’s hand and crowded him onto his lap. Dean held him while his body shook, the rest of his pain surging forward and escaping.

“Just let it go, Cas. Let it out.”

“Sh-shut up, Elsa,” Cas managed to get out through his sobs, the corner of his lips twitching at the sound of Dean’s laughter. “Okay, I deserved that,” Dean kissed the top of his head.

“Love you, Cas.”

“No, you don’t…”

Dean sighed and the bathroom fell in silence, all except the sound of Castiel’s sobs.

If I could transform.

Castiel woke up on the bed he shared with Dean. He didn’t remember falling asleep, so he started at the wall, void of all emotions.

The bedroom door was open, light streaming from the kitchen, the sounds of Dean cooking dinner filling the apartment. The smell of tacos whiffed in, his stomach grumbling but his throat constricting in defiance. He needed to get up before his bladder decided to kick his ass, but the rest of his body was in opposition to this whole “using the toilet” nonsense. Castiel couldn’t find it in him to get up.

So he just lay there and finally closed his eyes, ignoring all the pains in his body.

The more pain he brought upon himself, the better.

The next time Castiel woke up the apartment was dark and silent. Dean was in bed with his back facing him, presumably asleep.  Edging off the bed, attempting to not disturb Dean, he walked as softly as possible across the bedroom to the master bath. Every sound he heard made him pause in his journey until he reached the room, in what felt like thirty minutes.

Not wanting to chance making any more noise, he turned the knob while pushing the door closed, then releasing his hold. He left the light off and crossed his fingers he didn’t walk into anything or make a mess.

Too bad none of this worked out as planned.

Because just as Castiel was unzipping his pants, Dean pushed the door open and flipped the light on.  Both men looked at each other in bewilderment; Dean eyeing Cas up and down, Cas glaring at Dean.

“Um… Why are you taking a piss in the dark?” Dean asked, only to be glared at and ignored. Castiel turned his back to him and then the sound of his zipper echoed through the room, so Dean did the respectful thing. Left the room.

I wouldn’t have to be afraid.

“We need to talk, Cas. Please? Things can’t keep going on like this.”

Castiel looked over at Dean. The man’s eyes had gone dull, his complexion had lost its normal sunny tan and been replaced with a pallor similar to his own. Castiel felt the guilt rising from his gut to the back of his throat, making him want to vomit. He shook his head and rose from the table, pushing the chair back with such force it fell back behind him. He needed to get away before he caused more damage to Dean.

“CAS, STOP RUNNING!” he stopped dead in his tracks, hand paused over the knob to the apartment. Was he really prepared to do that again? To let the guilt and pain take the lead.

Two arms wrapped around him, holding him close and pulling him away from the door. “All I wanna do is talk, okay. It's been two days. You can’t keep everything bottled up with all this silent treatment, honey, it’s just gonna hurt you more. So talk to me, let me talk to you. Open up.”

I wouldn’t have to be unmade.

Castiel let himself be led away, be scooped up into Dean’s arms, and placed on his lap while they curled up on the couch. Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and released it all.

All the worries that seemed minuscule (I can’t cook meals for you like my mom or your mom does,) slightly personal (Ben resents me, doesn’t he? I broke up his parent’s marriage and now he hates me, but he doesn’t wanna tell me,) more personal (you know Ben resents me, so you just tolerate me because why not! You went through all this hell and getting rid of me would just mean admitting you’d made a mistake, so you keep me around,) to the downright soul shattering (but it’s okay Dean. I’d understand if you left, maybe Lisa would take you back and you both could be happy again. Things could go back to how they used to be, and everyone would be happy. It would be like I’d never been around…)

The only sound in the room was Castiel’s sniffles, Dean stunned into silence at the words that had poured from his boyfriend. Cas wiggled on Dean’s lap, the stretch of silence becoming uncomfortable, and allowing him to believe that he was correct. Dean didn’t want him around, and it was better if he left.

But Dean didn’t let him go. He tightened his hold on him with one arm, using the other to tilt his head up to look at him. “All of that stuff has been floating around in that head of yours?” Dean sighed. Castiel nodded, his face flushing.  

“No wonder you’ve been worrying yourself sick… Honey, I don’t care about your wonderful cooking, which I want to eat for the rest of my life, thank you very much. And Ben adores you! He understands everything that happened between Lisa and me and knows that we all are happier the way we are now.

“Ben’s a smart kid. Trust him to come to you if anything is wrong. Okay?

“Now, me and you mister. Me and you are it. Having had to fight for you, I’m not ever gonna give you, or let you down. Or run around. Or desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.”

“Did you just Rickroll me, Dean?” Castiel couldn’t stop the smile or the laugh as Dean continued to quote Rick Astley. Or as Dean continued to confirm how much he loved him and would be there for him.

No matter what kind of malfunctions he thought he had, Dean found them enduring and perfect. All he had to do is remember that everything’s a little broken, and malfunction away.