If You Drink Febreez Would Your Farts Smell Good?

ok fix-it time hilary you can do this i believe in you

prompt is a classic one--Aziraphale runs after Crowley after the "i forgive you" "don't bother" exchange OR the kiss does magically work like Crowley hoped

no i am not using english grammar and spelling today my feelings are too strong

Aha. Well, I wrote this fic yesterday, but it... might not entirely qualify as fix-it. My bad. To make it up, I offer you this: technically not either of the suggested scenarios, but still something to salve the pain, set at the end of Season 3 or thereabouts.

The late afternoon light is still and weighty: golden, heavy, purposeful, the sort of light that takes up space, that polishes floorboards and sets dust motes drifting, settles on the backs of furniture and the pages of books like a sleeping cat. The sort of light that fills the room almost tangibly, that stripes the bed and spills off it to the floor like too much olive oil poured into an amphora, back in the hot white heat of the Holy Land. Since he is, of course, a being of pure light, Aziraphale can feel it in his sinews, in the core of his soul, but it almost seems... wrong. Not the light itself, but that he's still allowed to touch it. He doesn't know if he's Fallen or not, or if such trite distinctions even matter. He only knows this. Them. Now.

Aware that it is incumbent upon him to start the conversation, he clears his throat and looks at Crowley, sprawled out on the bed with a fair show of his old insouciance, but Aziraphale can sense the fragility behind the flippant smile. Crowley's black-clad legs are jauntily crossed, his shoes kicked off, his hair a particularly vibrant red against the little-used, age-yellowed lace of the pillow cover; this bed, after all, doesn't get much use in the traditional sense. Aziraphale's preferred human vice is food, not sleep, though he knows Crowley is very good at it and might have to teach him a thing or two about that, about rest. He craves it, but he doesn't know where to begin. That seems applicable to any number of things right now, but he has to start somewhere, he supposes. He just doesn't know.

"Er," Aziraphale says at last, to Crowley's increasingly-strained expectant expression. "My dear, I... I am..."

He bites his tongue. He's rarely been in this position before, knowing that he's the one who needs desperately to ask for forgiveness -- real forgiveness -- and not at all certain that it will actually be granted. It's always seemed so slick, so easy, something to toss off as easily and unthinkingly as the humans say bless you when someone sneezes, and carrying about the same spiritual or emotional depth. Aziraphale feels mortifyingly ashamed of it, of himself. He shuffles his feet, twisting the hem of his waistcoat between his fingers. At last, to the carpet, he says, "I'm so very, very sorry. I've been an absolutely dreadful ninny, and I don't... I don't know if you can forgive me, but..."

"Angel." Crowley's voice is rough. "Bloody look at me, would you?"

Half-fearing to be dissolved by infernal hellfire on the spot, but knowing that he deserves it, Aziraphale looks up.

It's hard to read Crowley's expression, even more than usual. The glasses are off, but his slitted amber eyes are opaque, careful, wary, not quite sure what this is or what's going to come of it. The dead-silent moments that follow, as he weighs up his options, are among the very worst of Aziraphale's entire unending life. Then Crowley fractionally shifts his weight, opening up a spot on the bed next to him, a silent invitation. He doesn't say anything. Using their words tends to backfire tremendously, even if they need to get used to it. He just looks. He just waits.

After all this time, after everything, Aziraphale finally doesn't hesitate. In fact, he almost trips over himself as he blunders across the floor, falls onto the squeaking old mattress, and clambers into Crowley's arms. Crowley wraps them both around him with fierce, ferocious, furious strength, pulling Aziraphale down next to him, Aziraphale's softer, rounder corporal form fitting neatly into the hard lines and lean angles of Crowley's. Aziraphale rests his head on the bare triangle of throat where Crowley's shirt is unbuttoned, burrows his face into the sharp cleanness of Crowley's collarbone, and becomes belatedly, embarrassingly aware that he's crying. It seems beneath the dignity of a (possibly-ex?) Principality, but he doesn't think he can stop. He just wants to lie here and clutch onto Crowley for literally dear life, to mourn for all the time they've missed, for the simple, unbearable, shocking, agonizing, perfectly exquisite pleasure of holding his love close. "I'm so sorry," he says again, struggling not to let his voice crack too extravagantly. "Dreadful ninny. Absolutely dreadful."

"You were doing what you thought was right. What you needed to do to stop the Apocalypse, just... differently." Crowley's voice turns distant, his fingers absently stroking Aziraphale's hair. It feels strange and shocking and quite, quite lovely. "Can't really tell you off for that, can I? After all, I'm a demon. What do I know about doing good?"

"Hush," Aziraphale says, primly and a little watery. "Now you know that's not true."

Crowley lifts his head and regards Aziraphale for a long moment. He doesn't answer, just thinks about it. "All right," he allows, at deliberate length. "Maybe a little. I'm still very mad at you, though."

"I do understand." Aziraphale nestles again, and Crowley doesn't stop him. "But perhaps, even if I have no real right to ask it, you can... you might... one day think about... f-forgiving me?"

His voice trembles and squeaks. It takes all the courage in him, even more than when he stood up to the full hosts of Heaven and told them no, no more, not ever again, but he looks Crowley in the eye. He tries not to look too expectant, or too arrogant. He waits.

Crowley, for his part, looks mildly flabbergasted. He makes one of those incoherent nnngh noises that he resorts to whenever he finds himself at a loss for words, and shakes his head. "Idiot," he says, very softly. "Of course I bloody forgive you. Of course. Now if you -- "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. That's because Aziraphale likewise screws up every drop of courage, takes hold of Crowley's collar, and lowers his head, terrified that he's about to muck it up. But Crowley just looks at him like he's luminous, like the light is still in him and he is the light itself, and tips his head just that bit, in order to settle their lips together.

The kiss is long and slow, soft and sweet. Crowley's hand flutters up to rest in the wild white tufts of Aziraphale's hair, and Aziraphale -- somewhat in terrified awe at his own daring -- nibbles experimentally on Crowley's lip. He's quite bad at it, but neither of them care, or can think about anything else, or do anything but heave short sharp breaths, half-laughs, muffled sobs. When they finally pull apart, Aziraphale says anxiously, "I hope it wasn't very awful?"

"Oh." Crowley's eyes are half-lidded, and in the sunlight, he too looks as if he is burning like a beacon, brighter than his favorite stars. The affection in his voice is greater than the wings of heaven or the reaches of hell, the heights of the sky or the depths of the sea, and his smile outshines them all. "Absolutely terrible."

Everyone's talking about how Nina and Maggie seem on the outside to mirror Crowley and Aziraphale respectively, but it's actually switched, and Nina mirrors Aziraphale while Maggie mirrors Crowley.

But I haven't seen as much talk about how the same thing is happening with Shax and Muriel.

Shax is Crowley's replacement on earth at the beginning of S2, and Muriel becomes Aziraphale's by the end. Muriel and Aziraphale particularly are presented as very alike on the surface (see their enthusiasm over playing a 'human police officer' and an intrepid 'newspaperman' for example). And Shax is eager to learn from Crowley, who has kind of taken her under his wing and is teaching her how to be a demon on earth.

But beneath their surface appearances, Shax is actually a mirror to Aziraphale, and Muriel is a mirror to Crowley. Shax and Aziraphale are the (soon-to-be) leaders of their respective Sides. Muriel and Crowley are nobodies, insignificant (as of now) to either Side. Shax and Aziraphale are stubborn, ambitious, and determined to make real change to their respective organizations for the benefit (or detriment) of humanity. Muriel and Crowley both crave connection, they both have (or will) come to deeply care about earth and humanity, and they both are (or once were/still are deep down) openly curious and filled with wonder and love for creation. In season 3, it's going to be Shax vs. Aziraphale in Heaven/Hell, and Muriel and Crowley figuring things out on earth together.

This parallel is just as important as the Nina/Maggie parallel, and will arguably be more important in Season 3.

Nina and Maggie mirror Aziraphale and Crowley as a couple, as partners. How they have to all grow into themselves before they can really be together.

Shax and Muriel mirror Aziraphale and Crowley as individuals. Aziraphale and Crowley have become increasingly codependent for 6000 years, and even more so in the four years before season 2. They need this time apart to learn and become comfortable with who they are without each other. And in that time, their encounters with Shax and Muriel will push them to grow, challenge them, and help them embrace parts of themselves that, up until this point, they relied heavily on each other to bring out in them.

It's Aziraphale, who's always been stereotyped as soft, vulnerable, ultimately weak, who's going to showcase his own strength. It's Crowley, who's always seen as all walls and sharp edges, who's going to become comfortable with his own softness. It's Aziraphale, who's always relied on his connections, not just to Crowley but to the people in his community, the restaurants where they know his name, who's going to have to trust himself to stand alone in order to face off with Shax. It's Crowley, who started out "on my own side" and who's only ever let Aziraphale in on it, who's going to have to open himself up to meaningful connections, first with Muriel, but then with other people and the world.

I have a lot more to say about how this mirror works and how it might play out in season 3, so let's get into it! (Seriously, this is gonna be a long one)(Like I've been writing this for weeks).

Shax and Aziraphale

By the end of season 2, Shax is the new Grand Duke of Hell and Aziraphale is the new Supreme Archangel of Heaven, so they are now each other's counterparts, the heads of their respective Sides.

(Sidenote: I am making an assumption here — Beelzebub does offer Shax the position of Grand Duke, but it's unclear whether that means she's got it. Maybe she'll start the season fighting with the Dark Council for the position, if she doesn't immediately start as Grand Duke. But this parallel works even if she doesn't actually occupy that role yet).

Remember, Gabriel and Beelzebub in season 1 were going along with the Great Plan, but they weren't really personally invested in it, so when that didn't pan out, they both realized they didn't want the headache of another Armageddon. In season 2 they're largely disillusioned and done with the whole thing. It's hard enough running Heaven and Hell as it is, they don't need another huge project like that to add to their plates.

Unlike their predecessors, then, Aziraphale and Shax both actually have a vision for their respective organizations, a vision that is uniquely their own and wasn't just written down and handed to them.

Aziraphale, post-season 1, is deeply disillusioned with Heaven. It's just a great, dull bureaucracy, with no understanding of morality and no interest in learning, which means it does more harm than Good to humanity. He goes to Heaven determined to change it, to align it with the sense of morality he's developed over thousands of years spent among humans. He will bring Heaven back to its true Purpose of preserving Humanity and influencing them towards the Light. He will make Heaven really, properly Good.

Shax, meanwhile, is in largely the same place as Aziraphale when we meet her. Deeply disappointed that Hell is just a great dull bureaucracy, and that her job as ambassador to earth is too easy, that Hell can't even do real Harm to humanity. Hell can't even muster a proper legion of Demons, for Satan's sake! But as Grand Duke of Hell, she could change things for the worse. She could bring Hell back to its true purpose of tearing Humanity apart, influencing them towards the Darkness. She could make Hell really, properly Evil.

Aziraphale and Shax are both driven and ambitious. They're both disappointed in the institutions they work for and equipped with big ideas for change. They're both clever and steely and determined. They're both adept at influencing people to get what they want, with a kind or a harsh word (See: Aziraphale getting the whole street to come to the meeting; Shax riling up Maggie in the bookshop).

They're both stubborn, and they're both fighters, and their approach to problem solving is essentially single-mindedness and blunt force, insisting that they will get their way. (See: Shax storming the bookshop even though they couldn't get in; Shax reappearing as the Hitchhiker until Aziraphale relented; Aziraphale refusing to be threatened by the people in the Edinburgh graveyard; Aziraphale miracle-ing everyone into a Jane Austen novel).

I think they’ll go head to head in season 3, and I think that relationship with Shax is gonna be really important to Aziraphale’s growth as an individual, to him figuring out who he is without Crowley.

Because Aziraphale has always relied on Crowley to externalize his inner strength.

Crowley constantly pushes him, challenges him, forces him to confront the places where his orders from Heaven or what he was taught don’t align with what he truly values, what he feels in his gut. Crowley forces him to act when Aziraphale's standing there, twisting himself up into knots trying to be Good. It's not that Crowley gives Aziraphale strength, no, Aziraphale has always had it in him. It's Aziraphale's strength that draws Crowley to him in the first place (giving Adam and Eve the flaming sword — Aziraphale frames it as a spur of the moment thing but really it took great strength of conviction). But for the most part, it's Crowley who draws that strength out of Aziraphale, who helps him accept and embrace that part of himself, who makes him comfortable with it.

(Their encounter with Furfur is a prime example of this to me. Crowley's mere presence beside him means Aziraphale is calm and confident and it's extremely hot. He stares Furfur down, performs the magic trick with ease. Contrast that with how flustered he gets when Shax confronts him alone at the beginning of that episode. And how he gets even more flustered when Shax threatens Crowley).

Crowley tempts Aziraphale into trusting himself, into being himself. And Aziraphale needs Crowley — he admits that plainly, in the end. Without Crowley, he doesn't know how to be himself. Aziraphale fundamentally lacks self-trust and self-confidence. Crowley’s belief in him, Crowley’s trust in him, stands in for what he lacks on his own. Now, facing Shax, I think it'll force him to trust his instincts and his judgments, and ultimately help him see things more clearly. All this time he's kind of let Crowley do that clear seeing for him. Now he's on his own against an adversary that's evenly matched to him and I think it will force him to become more sure of himself and what he wants and believes.

I've said that I think we'll see a darker side to Aziraphale in season 3. But I think where he'll ultimately land is with a balance between softness and steeliness, one that's anchored within himself and not reliant on Crowley. Because of the way they're set up as each other's mirrors, I think Shax will be really important to that growth. Shax has this skill of pinpointing and exploiting people's weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I think this means she'll be part of what forces Aziraphale to confront all the uncomfortable truths and contradictions and complexities he's been pretending not to see in himself for millennia. I think he'll have to openly define who he is and what he values in response to her poking at his weak spots (not only in response to her — Aziraphale has far deeper Issues than just Shax — but she'll kind of force him to do that growth himself).

We can imagine that season 3 is going to build towards Aziraphale seeing clearly what Crowley's known this whole time, that the entire system is fucked and can't just be fixed the way he hopes to. And I think maybe, in another clever role-reversal, we'll end up with Aziraphale explaining that to Shax, convincing her to join him and take on the Metatron together. The forces of Heaven and Hell, allied. And Aziraphale, now firm in his convictions and sure of who he is, leading the charge.

Muriel and Crowley

By the end of season 2, Crowley and Muriel are both, essentially, exiles. Crowley has rejected both Heaven and Hell, and neither of them have much of an interest in him anymore, especially now that the Metatron has managed to separate him and Aziraphale. Muriel has been (not completely, but all the same) cast out of Heaven, left on earth to run the bookshop, but really because they know too much and have seen too much, and the Metatron needs them contained.

Crowley sees pieces of himself in Muriel, feels some sense of kinship with them. (I mean yeah outwardly he's annoyed by them but especially after their little excursion to Heaven together you know they're best buds). They both crave connection. They are both endlessly curious, and fascinated by the world and humanity. Pure, open wonder at the world. A deep love for creation and excitement about its potential.

And Crowley sees these things, and gives them The Crow Road to read, which I have not read myself but I gather from the summary on Wikipedia that it's essentially a crash course in humanity, for the purposes of this show. So in this way, everything that Crowley has come to admire in humanity, he imparts to Muriel. I don't know how conscious his choice of book was, but by giving them a book at all he is saying, on some level, look. Look how fascinating, how weird and complex, how infuriating and scary and wonderful humanity can be.

Those qualities still live in Crowley (just look at that smile as he's watching Nina and Maggie in the rain) even if the pre-Fall version of himself that could express them openly is barely a memory to him. He is still full of that wonder and fascination, that curiosity and love, even if he's in deep denial about it out of necessity. And I think Crowley's relationship with Muriel is going to be very important to him fully claiming and owning those parts of himself again, and figuring out who he is without Aziraphale.

Because Crowley has always relied on Aziraphale to externalize his inner softness.

Aziraphale constantly pushes him, challenges him, forces him to confront the places where his behaviors and actions, who he truly is, don't align with the detached, uncaring front he puts up, or his orders from Hell. Aziraphale names him kind and good with that knowing little smile on his face while Crowley twists himself up into knots trying to justify his actions as Evil. It's not that Aziraphale makes Crowley soft, Crowley has always had it in him. It's Crowley's softness that draws Aziraphale to him in the first place (not just the Starmaker, but the "hello, Aziraphale!" at the Flood, and the way he spoke to Jemimah, a million other instances throughout the millennia). But for the most part, it's Aziraphale who names the softness that Crowley displays, who calls it out and embraces it when Crowley cannot.

(The Job minisode is a prime example of this to me. I mean, Aziraphale is hella annoying about it but still. When Crowley looks him in the eyes, full of anger, and insists he's pure Evil, Aziraphale stares right back and demands he prove it).

Aziraphale recognizes Crowley, sees him clearly, sees right to the heart of him, in a way Crowley struggles to do for himself. And Crowley needs Aziraphale to articulate the parts of himself that he cannot give voice to, because of the threat of Hell but also because of the deep trauma of his Fall and the fear and despair he carries from it. Crowley fundamentally lacks the ability to truly express himself, to stand up and say, this is who I am and what I want. And more than that, Crowley's entire purpose for millennia has been protecting Aziraphale, helping Aziraphale, defending "our side" and their "precious, peaceful, fragile existence" from the threats of Heaven and Hell both. So without Aziraphale, Crowley doesn't know how to be himself.

Now, on earth, I think his relationship with Muriel will force him to do that, to name the parts of himself that he's always let Aziraphale name for him. To call himself kind, to admit how much he cares for the earth and humanity, to reconnect with that feeling, after pushing it down and denying it for so, so long. I bet he'll try to sleep until Armageddon comes, but Muriel won't let him. I bet they'll keep finding him, asking him questions, relying on him to guide them as they get to know the earth and humans. And I think that will force him to truly drop the act, to state plainly that yes, he's not as evil as he paints himself to be, he does care for humanity, and to reckon with all the reasons why he's felt the need to deny that for so long.

I think we'll see a lot more of Crowley's past trauma in Season 3. I think we'll hear the full story of his Fall (and if he tells that story to anyone, I bet it'll be Muriel). I think he'll have to truly process through it, and I think where he'll ultimately land is with a fuller, more complete version of himself, that he doesn't need to rely on Aziraphale to express. He'll never be the Starmaker again, that's not the goal. But he will be able to care openly, to protect the earth and humanity because he wants to, and not feel the need to cajole Aziraphale into agreeing to do it with him. I think Muriel will be really important to that growth. Muriel is learning, and they need a teacher. They need someone who understands that the qualities that Heaven looks down on in them are actually strengths, someone to encourage them and bring them out. I think they'll be part of what forces Crowley to confront those same qualities in himself, to recognize and name them himself. I think he'll have to openly embrace who he is and what he values in order to help them do the same.

At the end of season 2, both Sides are content to leave Crowley and Muriel on earth, among the humans. The threats they both posed to the system have been neutralized by the end of season 2, in their view. How much harm can they do, really? A heartbroken ex-Demon and a "dim," low-ranking Angel, on earth, among the humans?

Quite a lot of harm, actually.

Because here's the crucial thing. Everyone overlooks Muriel. No one cares what they're thinking. They're sweet and a bit dim and easy to manipulate, so it seems. But they have always been curious, eager to learn, eager to connect. And they're on earth now. They're meeting humans, asking questions, reading books ("they're like people, only portable!"). Muriel is learning, not as painfully or viscerally as Crowley did, but still, learning.

Crowley knows this story too well. Crowley has lived this story, and season 3 will be his chance to live it again. How do you bring Heaven and Hell down? It starts with the Muriels. The Angels whose spark of curiosity wasn't beaten out of them, who weren't important enough to be paid much attention to, who are still open to question and to learn. The most overlooked and underestimated are the most dangerous to a system like that. They're the ones whose questioning could bring the whole thing down.

We can imagine that season 3 is going to build towards Crowley seeing clearly what Aziraphale has known this whole time, that neither of them would ever be content to just run away and leave the earth to Heaven and Hell's mercy. And I think maybe, in another clever role-reversal, we'll end up with Crowley pulling his community together. Crowley rounding up Muriel (and Eric? and other Angels and Demons in the same place?) and all his human friends, banding together to save the earth from Heaven and Hell. Crowley, come to terms with who he is, making a stand to protect the humans he's come to care about so much.

On Air

On Air by wincechesters Rating: Explicit Word count: 21k

Cas and Dean are radio DJs who host the second most popular morning show in Lawrence. They’ve been co-hosts for years at different stations across the country, and they own a house together out of necessity, even though they’re just friends. But for some reason, a lot of their listeners and even some of their friends and family seem to think that they’re secretly in some kind of relationship, which they’re totally not (besides that one time that totally doesn’t count). In spite of that, Dean thinks he’s got everything figured out, until an ill-fated on air game of Truth or Dare turns everything upside down (and the billboards around town aren’t helping either).

There are plenty of fics out there where Dean is the one dating someone and Cas is the forever single one, who gets to pine and be jealous throughout the fic before Dean realizes who he really wants.

So when I saw that in this fic it happens the opposite, I was immediately on board. Not only I have a soft spot for jealous!Dean, but it’s also refreshing to have the tables turned on them.

What begins as a harmless truth or dare game, quickly turns into Dean being confronted and ultimately realizing his feelings for his best friend. Dean has been in love with Cas for years, but not counting with “one stupid mistake” when they slept together while drunk some years ago, Cas has never showed any interest in Dean besides being best friends. To make matters worse, Cas has been dating a wonderful girl for a couple of months now. So Dean can do nothing but try to squash his feelings, all the while pining and being his grumpy self.

Fear not, though, because Cas’ relationship with Daphne happens all behind the scenes. And even though it takes a third party for our boys to get their heads out of their asses, it all comes together in the end and the reality is that both of them have loved each other for years.

rating: E words: 6623 relationships: The Trickster/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Michael (Implied) other tags: One Night Stands, Canon Compliant, Tall Tales, Secret Identity, Power Bottom Gabriel (Supernatural), Oral Sex, Misnaming, Wrong-Naming status: complete

summary:

As if in response to his thoughts, his own name, “Dean,” is being whispered syrup-slow under his ear. The guy has an interesting way of saying it, like it’s a puzzle piece he’s turning over. Inspecting it. Easing it into place with his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Everybody has their own backstory. Dean gets a glimpse of the janitor’s mid-way through Tall Tales.

Trouble in the 1800's - Good Omens

The next time we see them together Crowley asks for holy water. What did they do to the poor dear?

Cereal.

usually the comment section of a post is a dreadful, horrifying place, but not on this post

you found a safehaven

everyone in the comments is just talking about their favorite soup

⬇️

today's gender is-

...

I can't find it

...

I lost it again

I'm sorry

‎

erm yeah so im not normal about them SO WHAT!!!

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Cas and Dean finally meet again in heaven after the confession.

Tags: angst with happy ending

Dean couldn't stay still.

After rearranging Bobby's entire house (Bobby was not happy), Dean had cleaned the whole gun collection (twice), the attic, and then resealed the drafty windows. That was done pretty quickly so he also cleaned the yard, refitted the back door, and even fixed the creaky porch - why the hell did that thing still creak in Heaven anyway?!

But it wasn't enough.

There was still an itch below his skin, a restlessness he couldn't kill. So he was now elbows deep in a Pontiac Firebird, trying to fix a problem that Bobby claims doesn't exist - but Dean knows there's a squeaky noise coming from somewhere and he's gonna find it. He rubs his arm against his sweaty forehead, unwittingly smudging it with a streak of oil. He's so focused that he doesn't notice the presence behind him until Castiel speaks.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean startles and nearly hits his head on the hood of the car. He turns around quickly, green eyes clashing against blue.

He hasn't heard that rumbling voice since that day in the bunker, and he hasn't seen those eyes staring at him since they were being devoured by the black tendrils of The Empty. The sight momentarily brings flashbacks that Dean would rather forget - of words that whispered a goodbye, of a fantasy that was far too real, and of the cold despair after being left alone in an empty room, staring at the spot where his everything had once stood.

"Cas," he tries, but his voice falters.

Cas smiles, though his expression seems somewhat sad. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, lost in each other. Then, the moment cracks. Dean frowns and turns away, back to the car. There's something dark and bitter lodged in his chest, it tastes of bile and it spills into his words.

"Good of you to finally show up."

If Cas is bothered by the harshness in his tone, he doesn't show it. Instead, he chooses to remain silent, but does come closer, peering over Dean's shoulder to observe what he's doing. For some reason, it strikes another nerve and Dean huffs, throwing the wrench he was holding on the floor and turning back fully to meet the angel.

"Look, I don't know why the hell you think you can show up here like this after avoiding me for months."

Cas moves away, allowing Dean space now that he's facing him again, especially since he looks like a mountain lion ready to pounce. It pisses Dean off even more, but he stubbornly keeps his glare and folds his arms - demanding something, or maybe anything.

Cas opens his mouth to speak and Dean waits, and waits, and waits but nothing comes out. Chapped lips close once again, like a tomb being sealed back up. The angel avoids his gaze, staring at the floor. Dean's jaw ticks, tightens, then explodes:

"You know what? I'm fucking done. Months, Cas! Months!"

Fuck, he hates the way his voice sounds.

He knows he's at the edge of holding it together, like a dam ready to overflow. He closes his eyes and forces himself to calm down, breathing in and out. His hand comes up to run against his head, streaking dark black oil into the short hair and messing it up. It feels like Chuck still has him dancing in his palm, and that Billie is still there, waiting outside the door. It feels like the Empty never let go of Cas, never returned him. And Dean is still on that floor, head in his hands, phone ringing into the silence. Yet here is Castiel, angel of the Lord, standing in front of him, safe and sound.

"Why are you even here? Why now?"

"I miss you."

The words crash into Dean like a truck doing 90 on the highway, punching all the air out of him. His lungs burn with the weight but he can feel part of that anger dislodging and falling away. His ribcage is cracked by the claws of hurt, his eyes flooded by resent, but his heart - the traitor - sings a choir of pointless, stupid, hope.

He throws his head up, staring at the sky and trying to keep it all in. Finally, he surrenders to that tug of hope, feeling like a rabbit caught by a fox but still praying to be spared. He's madness shaped haphazardly into the shell of a man.

"Well... I was here." His voice cracks, following the betrayal of his heart. "Where the hell were you, Cas?"

"I..."

The angel seems just as lost on what to say, what to feel.

"I thought it would be best to give you some time, and space."

Dean swallows the rock in his throat that's keeping him from breathing. They stay like that for a beat, and then another, and then another. It seems like centuries before Dean finally gains the courage to look back down.

"You know... I... I dreamed about how you would tell me."

Cas frowns, not yet picking up on Dean's meaning. Dean continues.

"Sometimes it looked like you were about to say it... like that one time when we were at the diner after the twin witches case. We were laughing about something stupid - I don't even remember what anymore. And all of the sudden you looked at me like I hung the moon. I... I thought you were gonna say it then. I was so freaking scared."

Castiel's eyes widen slightly. Great, the poor bastard is finally catching on. Still, Dean presses on.

"Or that one time in the library, when you caught me reading Jane Austen and I kept sayin it was for a case... but hell, you knew the truth... and you just played along and smiled at me like it was ok. You looked like you were about to say it then too."

"Dean..."

"Then there was that one time in the kitchen... I was making burgers and asked you to help me but you kept messing up. I have no idea how someone who can master an angel blade like you do, can suck so hard at cutting tomatoes. But when I was complaining and teaching you how to do it you just looked at me with these big freaking eyes..."

Castiel's breath falters, even though he doesn't need to breathe. It's enough to make Dean brave, it's enough to make him step closer. Cas tilts his head, eyes rimmed red and seemingly about to burst.

"You knew?" Cas gapes, shocked, eyes big and round. He looks hurt, confused.

"I think... part of me always knew. And it freaking terrified me, Cas."

"I'm sorr-"

Dean doesn't let him finish, instead just grabs his lapels and pulls him in. If Cas doesn't get it yet, Dean will just have to show him.

The clash of their lips is like stars colliding - explosive, colossal, namelessly bigger than Dean can ever define.

But if Cas is Icarus, Dean is the Sun - and every star devours itself until there's nothing left. Cas had pried him open, ruthlessly, mercilessly, with three little words. And then? Then he had left. He'd left Dean behind just like everyone always did.

'Don't do this, Cas.'

The words echo in his mind now, even as he loses himself in the feeling of Cas, so close, so perfect, finally here - his - even if just for a breath, before Dean's alone again. For once, Dean doesn't care if he will be broken forever, beyond repair, or if he will eat himself alive until there's nothing left... not if it means living this moment of truth, of freedom, of love.

Dean knows he should pull away. He can feel the wetness trailing down his cheeks, the despair in his hands, the eagerness in the pathetic sounds escaping his mouth. He should let go, but doesn't know if he will ever have the strength.

But then something magical happens:

Cas starts to kiss back. Slow, tentative at first, but then with a kindness that picks Dean apart and glues him back together, and a gentleness that swallows worlds. Suddenly the destructiveness, the bottomless hunger, the fear - they all melt away into nothing. The planets align and the universe sings a harmony of

'yes',

of 'right',

of 'meaning'.

Maybe it was always supposed to be like this - maybe part of Dean had to die for a galaxy to be born. Maybe the part of him that was so afraid of getting hurt had to be murdered so he could receive the sacrament of Castiel's lips on his, so he could feel the angel's hands like salvation on his skin, so he could fall with the surety that he would be caught. It all becomes too much - too big - and Dean hides his face in the crook of Castiel's neck, his hands fisted on the crinkles of the trenchcoat.

Something had irrevocably changed, and could never be put back.

"Dean... I'm sorry."

Cas says, astounded, finally getting it. For someone who always read Dean like a book, who always saw right through him, it had taken him a while to understand that the very thing he wanted, he could have always had - if only he had asked. If only he stayed. If only he was Dean's.

"I didn't realize."

"S'okay..." Dean mutters, the sound wet and breathless. His fists unwind, and he lets his hands travel across the expanse of Castiel, all around until they're pressing against the angel's back, and then pulling, hugging Cas close. "Just... don't ever do that again. I need you."

Don't leave.

Don't leave me.

"I won't. I promise."

Cas whispers, treading his fingers across Dean's hair. A tingle of grace hums and the oil and sweat and grime disappear, almost like they were never there. Gently, he kisses Dean's temple - it's a shrine worthy of worship. Cas confesses once again, but now enlightened:

"I love you."

Dean holds on tighter, arms trembling.

He doesn't say anything back, so Cas pulls his chin back up, kissing the words against his lips again and again and again until Dean starts to believe them.

When Dean finally whispers it back, the look on Cas' face irradiates a warmth he never thought could exist. It pads the hole inside him with something soft, and sweet, that promises to grow. Cas kisses his knuckles, reverent and slow and then smiles, wide and brighter than any single point in time before.

Just like that, Dean is sure:

He'll never have to say goodbye again.

Air Himbo

Water Himbo

Earth Himbo

Fire Himbo