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spn ficlet: breathe
breathe
Cas/Dean | gen | ~300 words
Inspired by this picture.
--
"Be still," Cas says softly, his mouth almost touching Dean's ear. "It's fine. Everything's fine."
Dean clutches at Cas' coat, shaking, his hands leaving sticky-red smears on the collar and sleeves. "No, it isn't."
Cas brushes his fingers through Dean's hair, murmuring Dean's name, and Dean presses closer, hides his face in the curve of Cas' shoulder. He's exhausted, feels sick; the bloodlust always washes over him like a wave, ebbing away in a rush that leaves him cold and empty and unable to breathe.
"You gotta do it," Dean whispers. The bodies in the warehouse are all vamps, but Dean had smiled as he sliced his way through them, had laughed at the screaming, at the blood running down his hands. "You gotta--"
"No."
"Cas, please."
Cas dips his head a little, his mouth bumping Dean's temple. "No."
"You promised," Dean says, his voice rough. He tries to pull away, to make Cas look him in the eye, but he's shaking too hard, can't make his arms and legs move the right way. He's only standing because Cas is holding him up. "You--"
"I said I would deal with it. I never agreed to kill you."
"Cas."
"No."
"Why not."
Cas kisses his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "Because I am selfish, and weak. It would be bad enough if you died, but doing it with my own hands -- I couldn't bear it."
Dean chokes out a noise; a sour knot is burning in the back of his throat, and the Mark is on fire, throbbing furiously on his arm.
"It's fine," Cas says again, and Dean forces himself to breathe. "Everything's fine."
Cas/Dean | gen | ~300 words
Inspired by this picture.
--
"Be still," Cas says softly, his mouth almost touching Dean's ear. "It's fine. Everything's fine."
Dean clutches at Cas' coat, shaking, his hands leaving sticky-red smears on the collar and sleeves. "No, it isn't."
Cas brushes his fingers through Dean's hair, murmuring Dean's name, and Dean presses closer, hides his face in the curve of Cas' shoulder. He's exhausted, feels sick; the bloodlust always washes over him like a wave, ebbing away in a rush that leaves him cold and empty and unable to breathe.
"You gotta do it," Dean whispers. The bodies in the warehouse are all vamps, but Dean had smiled as he sliced his way through them, had laughed at the screaming, at the blood running down his hands. "You gotta--"
"No."
"Cas, please."
Cas dips his head a little, his mouth bumping Dean's temple. "No."
"You promised," Dean says, his voice rough. He tries to pull away, to make Cas look him in the eye, but he's shaking too hard, can't make his arms and legs move the right way. He's only standing because Cas is holding him up. "You--"
"I said I would deal with it. I never agreed to kill you."
"Cas."
"No."
"Why not."
Cas kisses his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "Because I am selfish, and weak. It would be bad enough if you died, but doing it with my own hands -- I couldn't bear it."
Dean chokes out a noise; a sour knot is burning in the back of his throat, and the Mark is on fire, throbbing furiously on his arm.
"It's fine," Cas says again, and Dean forces himself to breathe. "Everything's fine."