AN This came out a lot fluffier than I intended. Prompt "Blue, Not-Tears, and 'Everybody leaves'"
"Your eyes are blue." Dean murmured in wonder, barely resisting his need to touch Castiel's face.
Castiel's eyebrows drew together. "My vessel's eyes are blue, yes." He glanced around the room, taking in the empty cases of beer in the corner and Dean's disoriented figure. Dean's dusty hair was disheveled, more so than usual, and his eyes were out of focused.
Dean shook his head. "No, you don't understand. Your eyes are really blue." Dean's own green eyes were wide. "They're always the first thing I notice. Your eyes, I mean. Christ they're blue."
"Are you drunk, Dean?" Castiel questioned. He already knew the answer.
Dean snorted. "Well, duh. Let's face it, Cas. When am I not at least a little drunk?"
Castiel was confused to say the least. The last few cases Sam and Dean had, to the best of his knowledge, were not difficult ones. There had not been anything from their past that had been unearthed or people brought up that they'd rather stay forgotten. If this were the case, why had Dean sought out the liqueur store? From what Castiel understood, alcohol (as well as anger) was Dean's coping mechanism to most hardships and, as Dean faced many hardships, he was most often intoxicated. Dean's current state was much more drunk than usual.
"Where is Sam, Dean?"
"Of course you want Sam." Dean scoffed. Something was definitely wrong with Dean. "Are you going to leave me to go find Sam?"
Castiel's dark eyes squinted. "I do not want to find Sam."
Dean sat back into the motel room's only armchair, a dark blue love seat with a large coffee stain on the arm rest. "Then are you going to go poof away to your angel friends? Or maybe you'll leave me to go and make deals with Crowley." Dean laughed humorously.
"I'm not going to leave you." Stated Castiel, his mind trying to draw up possible reasons for Dean's unusual behaviour.
Dean's chin wavers. "Yes, you will." Dean insisted. "You have! You always do... Everyone does."
The angel reached down and gripped Dean's shoulder, almost touching the mark from where he pulled Dean out of hell. "The only time I would ever leave you would be if it would benefit you."
Dean's face was a mix of sadness, humourlessness, anger. "You left me for Crowley. You left me to become "God"." The anger faded away and was replaced with raw pain. "You died."
"And I kept your trench coat!" The anger returned as Dean started to yell. "I stayed and you left me! You left me and Sam left me and Dad left me and now he's dead! Everyone's dead... And everyone leaves me..." A single tear streamed from Dean's eye. "Am I not worth staying with?"
"Dean." Castiel's looked down at Dean's broken, drunk and for once open form. Dean was breaking. Acting on an impulse he didn't know he had, Castiel pulled Dean's now openly crying form into a hug. His arms arms were a promise to never leave and Dean could feel it.
Hands gripped Castiel's trench coat. "Why do they leave me, Cas? Fucking hell..." Sobs wracked Dean's body, surrendering entirely in Cas' arms, forgetting about his macho image for the first time in a long time.
And as the ceiling fan continued to spin overhead, Castiel held the whimpering man, rubbing slow circles onto his back. Almost inaudibly, Castiel murmured, "I'll never leave you. Until the day you cease to exist, and after, I promise to stand by you. I will come when you call, even if my grace is ripped from my body, my wings torn off my back and my heart crushed in my lifeless body. I will find a way to come back to you."
And like a burst of light to a blind man's eye, Castiel came to a realization. "I love you, Dean." And he gently pressed a kiss into the other man's hair. "I love you..."
A gentle snore vibrated against Castiel's chest and he almost laughed. Dean didn't even hear it. As softly as he could, Castiel lifted Dean up, like a new bride and placed his sleeping form on the hard motel bed. He was about to fly away before he remembered his promise. After placing another kiss to Dean's forehead, Castiel settled himself on the armchair Dean had once occupied.
"Sweet dreams, Dean."
AN So this is just another fic I wrote for my Writers Craft class. Oh, and reviews and favourites are always nice. ;) -Ash