Trans-Male Imagines

Tell Me Again - Castiel

request from SuperWhoLock_AKF , prompt #17. Thanks so much, I'm super sorry that I couldn't use your first character request. They also write super super good imagines and I love them to death so please go read their works! 

enjoy this tired wing-bean-boi fluff

You stifle a groan as Dean pressed down harder on the wound in your shoulder, suppressing the outpour of blood as best he can. Luckily, the bullet stopped before it could leave an even worse exit wound, and it clogged some of the blood flow for you. Yeah, real lucky. You can hear Dean muttering under his breath for Cas to show up, and you grind your teeth, eyes slamming shut. 

"Just hang in there, (Y/N). It's gonna be fine," Dean says as gently as he can, but his arms, too, shake with exhaustion. "C'mon, Cas, hurry it up." Your shoulder twinges and you flinch, biting down hard on your lip; the familiar tang of copper coats your mouth.

"Shit, Dean," you mouth. "I'm so sorry." He looks at you quizzically. 

"What're you sorry for, kid? You didn't do anything." You are saved from answering, however, as you are interrupted by the faint fluttering of wings from behind your position on the ground. A deep voice follows. 

"How long since he was shot?" Castiel questions, urgency present in his voice. Dean answers with a quick 'twenty minutes'. Cas drops to a knee beside you, his worried blue eyes meeting your half shut ones. "I need you to stay awake just a little longer, (Y/N)." 

You nod as best you can as Dean removes the pressure from your shoulder, but you wind up gasping sharply and letting out a low groan that rolls from your chest as the constriction on your arm is removed. Castiel moves his hand over the bullet hole, a soft blue glow beginning to appear. As it brightens, you see Dean look away- but Cas's eyes are locked on yours, concentration and concern flooding through them. 

Cas's grace works it's way into your injury, winding around and into the skin around it, and you're filled with a sense of warmth, like the feeling in your throat when you take a sip of hot chocolate or coffee. You feel your eyes float shut, and then Castiel's hand is on your head, and you fall into the deepest sleep you've gotten in months. 

~

When you come to once again, it's because you are jostled awake by a pothole in the road- the road? You're in the backseat of the Impala, headed down what you think must be the worst highway in the country. You can see Dean's sharp profile ahead of you, jawline shadowed and eyes out of view. He grimaces as he hits another pothole, and you brace your head and shoulders as well as you can for the inevitable up-and-crash. The up came, that you expected- but the crash never happened. Well, not as drastically, anyways. Your head collided with something soft, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

A hand lands on your skull, and you tense up, but as you tilt your neck, you see that it's Castiel, his hand gently carding through your short hair. A faint blue light is glowing, so dimly you can barely see it. Cas's eyes are soft, but you can tell that he's exhausted.

"Cas?" you murmur, voice low and rough. "What-"

"Relax, (Y/N). You need sleep, the bullet in your shoulders were laced with spellwork, and you will not be fully healed for a few days."

"You don't need to use your grace to-"

"I want to, (Y/N). I am keeping your nightmare's away, as well. You are plagued by them, and you need the rest. Go back to sleep," Cas admonished quietly. You see Dean smile lightly as you begin to yawn.

"We're almost at the bunker, kid. Sleep until we get there," he adds, twitching the steering wheel a little bit to the right to turn onto the off ramp. You nod slowly, curling into Cas a little bit more. With a quiet snap of his fingers, Castiel's coat is over you, and it's soft and warm and smells like heaven. How ironic.

~

A couple of hours later - you can tell, because it's dark out of the windows of the Impala now - Castiel shakes you awake, and you blink sleepily as you grab your backpack. Your arm gives out, though, and you nearly drop it. Dean looks at you, but he's yawning, and he looks dead on his feet, so you wave it off. He locks his car and opens up the door to the Bunker, the familiar warmth of the lamps from the central library warming something within you.

You and Cas are left to trudge inside, relishing the heat that comes with it, and you walk to your hallway with little disturbance, waving goodnight to Sam on your way there. Dean has already passed out, you assume. Once inside your room, Castiel presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and you grin.

"I love you," Castiel says, his voice serious as always. "I dislike seeing you in pain, (Y/N)." He moves to rid himself of his tie and button down, replacing them with a t-shirt and sweatpants. You go to the bathroom and change, relishing the feeling of your shirt sliding over the surgery scars on your chest. It's not perfect, but I am better.

"I love you, too, Cas," you reply as you slide into bed next to him. "And I'm okay, right? It only hurts a little bit, and I'll be okay in a couple days. No big deal." He hmms, and it runs from his chest through you. "Cas, tell me a story from before there was all of this, this bad. Before there were people around to screw things up."

Cas laughs quietly. "Humans didn't screw things up, (Y/N), just made it a little more... interesting. Like throwing a polar bear onto an island of seals." He rethinks. "Maybe that was a bad analogy. But if you want me to tell you a story, I will gladly comply."

"A very, very, long time ago, eons ago, my father created stars. I was maybe only a century old, then, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He wove them out of the grace of his most precious fallen angels, and bound them together with the purest human souls in heaven. The result was breathtaking- a sphere of light so condensed that it pushed at the blackness of the empty space around it. The light stretched for miles upon miles upon thousands of miles, and I never loved anything more than to look at them. Until now, of course. Now I have you." Here, he pauses and smiles, leaning his head against yours.

"But then, I noticed that some stars were growing dim, and I wondered why. So I first went to my older brother, Gabriel. I believe you've met him. He's really very kind, he just likes to pull jokes. So I went to Gabriel and I asked him why the beautiful stars that father had made were going dark, and Gabriel didn't know. So I went to Michael, a little apprehensively, as Michael and I have never been on the best terms. But I asked regardless, and Michael said that he didn't know, and that I shouldn't concern myself with it. Lucifer was already banished at this point, so asking him was out of the question." Castiel is silent and pensive for a moment, and you prompt him to continue.
"Where did you go next?"

"I went to God. He had made the stars, so surely he would know why they were vanishing. So I went to my father and he told that it was because those people that he had created to live on Earth? They stopped believing in angels, stopped believing in him. The memory of the angels who made up the stars wasn't being preserved, so they were fading back to the Empty." Castiel breathes a deep sigh, but continues at your asking.

"From then on, I went to visit the place where my father kept the dying stars, and I told them stories, and I remembered the angels' great victories and triumphs that they had made for the good of heaven, and slowly, day by day, every star grew a little bit brighter, a little bit stronger, because all they needed was reassurance that they still lived through someone else," Cas finishes, a sense of peacefulness in his tone. You look up at him, even as your eyes drift shut.

"That was beautiful, Cas. You're a hero," you murmur sleepily. Cas laughs, and it resonates through the room.

"Go to sleep, (Y/N). You need the rest," Castiel tells you, flicking off the light on the bedside table.

Closing your eyes, you ask, "Tell me again?"

woo!