broken ➳ destiel

nineteen

"death is not the greatest loss in life. the greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." norman cousins

☁

Dean was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, arguably a little bit upset that he wasn't in the front seat, driving. But he would admit, sitting in the back with the now-powerful angel gave him a sense of peace inside, and he very much so enjoyed it. The angel was tenderly sleeping, his back against the seat but his neck and head leaning against the window. Dean missed looking at his blue eyes, and the way the cars and vehicles driving quickly by gave a flash of light to illuminate his face, along with blue.

His lips still tanged with the taste of Castiel's. He wanted so badly to wake up the resting angel, but the hunter knew he was tired and he knew that he needed sleep. The only sound in the car was his slight, soft snoring and the sound of the Impala's wheels whirring across the dark road. It was six o'clock in the morning, and the sun was hinting on the horizon, waiting for its time to come back up and give off perfect, orange, exorbitant light. 

"Turn right on the exit then we'll be at the bunker." Charlie muttered after what seemed like hours of silence. They all three knew that Cas was exceedingly exhausted.

The turn shifted everybody in their seats, especially Cas. When Sam had turned to the exit, it startled him. He suddenly woke up and Dean slowly turned his head. He was met with blue eyes that were sheepishly looking at him. Almost as if he was scared to look at Dean. But there was no reason for him to be scared, so maybe Dean was misinterpreting his facial and body language. Hopefully, Dean thought. If he was wrong, then maybe Dean went on too strong by kissing him. 

He didn't know how to feel. He wanted a relationship with the angel but he knew dating a guy would be emotionally hard on him. The hunter knew that Sam wasn't homophobic, as they had a lesbian friend with them in their Impala. John was obviously homophobic, as he taught Dean and Sam that thinking that way was feminine and non-hunter like. His father was one of the reasons he kept it bottled up so long, but it was always there, and he couldn't just shrug it off. It wasn't a thought though, it was a desire, a passion. But Sammy had grown up with Dean. What if Sam wanted nieces and nephews? He couldn't have any biological children with Cas.

Holy fuck. Dean shared one kiss with him, and now he's thinking about having children. Dean had always jumped the gun with women, thinking about their future that Dean knew he could never have. But Castiel was different, he was a man, not a woman. Before, Dean had always wanted to hold his hand, but with women, he never dreamed of it. They had laced their fingers together as they kissed, and it gave Dean a sense of feeling he never thought of before. He just wanted to sit there, no words, just looking at Cas and feel the moment when he knew that his hand wanted to be held, so he would shift his hand slightly, twitching it. Castiel would look down and put his palm on top of Dean's knuckles, but then Dean would swiftly open up his hand, interlocking their fingers together. It would be perfect bliss, sitting in the backseat of his beloved Impala, holding hands with a goddamn lovely angel. But Dean could only imagine. He could only imagine a perfect world, but even then, it wasn't perfect. He would make up scenarios in his head, like Cas didn't want any kisses, he didn't want any hands held. He didn't want love.

Selfish, he felt. He wanted him all to himself, for nobody else to touch him the way Dean wanted to for the first time. But Cas probably didn't want to. Dean shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Instead, he focused on that he was healed and healthy. But his thoughts kept coming back. Imagining his body and what it looked like underneath him, pure and bliss. Dean could feel his breath hitch from the thought of it. Something under his pants and boxers twitched, in a way he couldn't describe it.