Chapter Text
Human.
He was human.
And at first, it was like losing all his senses at once, only to have others flow in, to fill the void.
In the laundromat, he heard the lyrics to a song for the first time.
Of course he had heard the lyrics to a million songs over a million human lifetimes, if not more, but now he heard them.
His skin lifted curiously, like a cat’s.
He touched the water flowing from his eyes before he realized the ache in his heart matched the music.
It’s three AM and I must be lonely…
He left, and he drank his water, and he left his trenchcoat there.
It would only bring back memories.
Dean had kicked him out, after everything. After April. After -
Well, Castiel knew some things, now.
He wandered the city on his own, after that. Not knowing what would become of him now. He had nowhere else to go.
Later, alone, he found himself rolled up against a wall and behind a dumpster. He was dirty and hungry.
He thought, daringly, of Dean.
Warm, kind, funny, sweet, wonderful –
Until now, he supposed.
Castiel had known the feeling of getting thrown out of every home he’d ever had. Heaven, for Dean. Dean’s home, also for Dean.
Frustrated, sad, torn apart, furious, Castiel did as he had long wondered, a curiosity before, now something building with an intensity he did not entirely understand.
And here, filthy, hidden away in a place no one would ever see or find him, he took himself in hand and imagined he was with Dean, not for the first time, but the first time he had ever gone so far.
And then, for a moment, all was bliss.
His eyes were closed, he was in Dean’s arms, and Dean was whispering to him, murmuring soft assurances, telling him he was loved, he was cherished, he would make pancakes in the morning. Dean, pliant beneath him, serving him, subservient and sweet and willing, green eyes and freckles all open and wondering as if he had never seen all the horrors, as there was still innocence and light there that Castiel would find, and hold, and cherish too.
His lips were soft and sweet, he gave himself to Castiel. For such a vicious killer, a hunter, a man with blood on his hands that would never wash clean – Dean was surprisingly gentle, surprisingly sensitive, so willing and submissive Castiel’s angel ached in the glory of it, sunlight pouring down on their bare bodies as Castiel took him apart in the soft white welcome of his bed.
Castiel, for his part, commanding but kind, strict and loving and a firm place for Dean to feel safe and protected, for Dean to feel home, wherever he may be. Dominant, as an angel should be, but sweet and kind, for love can be terrifying and wonderful in equal measure, and an angel knows from love.
Love you, Cas, Dean murmured in Castiel’s mind, against his heated skin, desperate and perfect as Castiel finally breached him, made space for himself there within him, closer to Dean than he had been since he had rebuilt the man from atoms in Hell.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Castiel bellowed, crashing down into himself again, eyes suddenly wide open as he came across his hand, striping it and his jeans and taking huge breaths as reality reasserted itself around him again.
The bricks at his back and side were rough and unfriendly. Castiel darted a glance around himself, frightened that someone may have heard. But all he could hear was a siren in the distance.
Somewhat disgusted with himself, Castiel wiped his hand off on his jeans and attempted a half-hearted cleanup. He put himself back together again and zipped up, grimacing. Perhaps this had not been the time or place for such pursuits. His anger at Dean, guilt washed over him – Dean didn’t deserve to be used like that, in Castiel’s foolish fantasies that were now as intense as hunger and thirst to him, ever since he had become human.
He fell asleep against the wall, into fitful dreams about mashed potatoes and gravy, burritos and cheeseburgers, and Dean licking nacho cheese off his fingers like someone in one of Gabriel’s racy movies.
The morning sunlight was watery and thin, strange and distant. Castiel stood up, and a rat probably more curious than was strictly wise for his species ran off, its beady black eyes giving him a look as he paused.
It reminded Castiel of Dean, when he’d stood in the light of holy fire and his best friend – imagine, an angel with a best friend! – stopped and looked back, like Lot’s wife.
Dean, not being her, did not turn to salt, but left Castiel all the same.
Castiel made his way down the street, wondering what he was going to do next. The day was cold, and for the first time, he could actually feel it, as they said, in his bones.
Another song, this one playing tinny from a bodega, told him I am human, and I will let you down.
He kept walking.
The only thing he knew at this point was that humans needed money, and in order to have money, they found jobs.
He walked until he saw a sign in a convenience store window, a Gas N Sip, that read HELP WANTED.
The bells jingled as he pushed the door open and went inside.