Schizo||Destiel||#Wattys2017||

Year 24: Gif

Different

It's an odd word when you think of it. It's like, you take the differences, and extend them into a never ending rope, able to wrap around the universe numerous times because it's so damn—what's the word?—Opinionated. This story isn't a love story, not really. In a sense, you could say it is, but in the last twelve years of their time together, everything was different. So, yes, this may make you gawk with happiness, but please hold your tongue, because this is not Just Some Love Story. This is the life of two men who were different. Even Castiel knew that. Normalcy was overrated in this world. They were different, and it was beautiful, then bloody, then oh, so freezing cold. This isn't a love story. Cas is about to learn that this story, his story, is a tragedy.

--

Castiel felt Dean's heart race as he listened to his chest, trying to find some way to slow it down without waking him up. Castiel could tell it was a recurring nightmare that Dean was having, it's the same way every time. He shifts, he begins sweating, his heart races, and then Dean begins murmuring the same things over and over again. "So cold," he would repeat. "So, so cold." But Dean would never awaken. Not if Cas didn't wake him up. Dean had told him about the dream, and Castiel could feel what Dean was. Dean was feeling a sensation of horror, and helplessness. Cas felt it, trying to imagine the picture that Dean had painted in his mind when he spoke of the dream. He shut his eyes.

Castiel stood on a raft, clinging to Dean for dear life as he peered upon the horizon. No land was to be seen, no sign of life for miles, except for the fish underneath them. Castiel sat down, feeling his legs get cold. The raft was Ice, slowly meting away with the early arrival of spring. It reminded Castiel of snow, the way it almost crunched under his feet. He placed a hand in the water, shuddering as he immediately jerked it out. The water was indescribably cold. Castiel noticed ice crystals forming on his hand. He looked up, still seeing nothing but the cold, crystal swirls of his breath drift into the wind. He was fascinated by the sight. How did the temperature of the air turn Castiel's breath from a gas to a solid in an instant? How could it not freeze his tongue, or his throat. In these conditions, he and Dean should be mummies, but they were fine, besides cold.

But suddenly there was a cracking noise.

And Castiel felt the ice rock as if thousands of tiny imps were underneath it, trying to break it. It was happening to Dean, too, but Dean wouldn't let them. He stood up tears freezing in his eyelids. A breeze made Castiel almost fall into the icy water, and he almost wanted to, seeing as he perceived Dean to be doing, but he couldn't. He couldn't until the imps—those little, tiny aqua demons—broke his ice. Castiel plunged into the water, the last thing in his vision, Dean diving in the opposite direction with the words, "I'm sorry."

--

"It's pronounced jif you can fight me, Cas." Dean argued as he and Cas walked into the store.

"No, Dean the G stands for Graphics, so it's a hard g. It's pronounced gif."

"It stands for g spot," Dean mumbled.

"Dean Winchester I swear to God." Castiel smacked the back of his head, narrowing his eyes.

"Jif."

"Gif."

"Jif."

"Gif."

"Jif."

"Jif is a brand of fucking peanut butter, De—" Castiel paused, shoving his hand to his forehead. He was ashamed, but he wasn't sure who he was more ashamed of. Him, or Dean? "Oh, you asshole."

"Jif because I like them and I like peanut butter. You cannot argue with my logic." Dean said as-a-matter-of-factly. His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent light. His grin was from ear to ear. He looked at Cas, not failing to give him a little chuckle. "Oh, Cassie. You're so cute."

"I'm not cute, Dean," Cas rolled his eyes, smiling nonetheless. He looked up at him, pulling his bottom lip in between teeth. "And it's still Gif."

"No it isn't!" Dean complained. "Cas," he whined when Cas walked past him. "You're so mean to me," he pouted.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we four years old?" Castiel knocked a couple of jars of peanut butter in the cart, smiling at Dean as he knocked more into the cart.

"You can never have too much peanut butter," Dean stated, his eyes glinting in the artificial light of the grocery store. He shook, and Cas could tell that Dean was trying so hard. He smiled, but to no avail. Cas could see right through the little act that Dean was putting on.

How? Well, it was the Sam act that Cas had put on from time to time.

"Dean, did you take your pills?" Cas gave him a solemn look, and Dean shook his head. He sighed. "Where is he, Dean?"

Dean sighed, looking down. His feelings towards Cas exploded when Castiel did this. He loved how much Castiel cared about him. He could see Bartholomew everywhere. It was sad, really. He'd turn away from him, and Bart would be right in front of him. He felt like a child, unable to escape the boogie man. It doesn't stay under his bed, no. It follows him, everywhere. In his car, in his glove compartment, in the store, in the yard. Sometimes, he even saw them in Cas. It was a lonely world in which Dean lived, and Castiel could see that. He pointed.

Cas stood in the spot, narrowing his eyes at the imaginary man. "Leave him alone, Bart. He doesn't need you. He doesn't want you. He never did."

Dean sighed, his gaze focused on the floor. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Cas looked at him, tilting his chin up. "It's okay, Dean. It's not your fault."

"I feel like a child, Cas. I don't know what to do. I feel... I can't help it, and I shouldn't be sorry about something I can't help... but it... it's a part of me and I don't know how to keep it under control." Dean looked down again.

Cas cupped his cheek. "It's a part of us." He leaned in and kissed him softly. "Don't ever apologize..." he kissed him again, smiling. "For us."

--a/n--

Updating in class which is almost over so Ima keep it short.

I like Hands Like Houses

Ok cool

I love you my Carcrashovercastyoungbloods

-Emily aka Patrick aka foblvr