FIC: Statue Verse
Jun. 21st, 2010 07:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloudy_versesTitle: Statue Verse
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: Inanimate objects in love
Summary: Dean purchases an angel statue.
Author's Notes: I want one for myself.
Dean walks the length of the antique store, looking for the sort of doll his niece would like. His eyes catch on an odd statue of a man wearing a tan trench coat with great white wings sprouting off his back.
"That's been in our collection for some time," the owner, a young man with bright eyes, suddenly croons in his ear. "Are you interested?"
And it's weird, even creepy with big staring blue eyes, but when Dean thinks of leaving the store without it, his stomach clenches.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "I'll take it."
******************
Dean sets the little statue on his bedside table. He's not looking forward to the ribbing he'll get from Sam for buying a freaking angel statue, but he's already grown fond of the little guy.
"Mom always said angels were watching me," he says to it with a smile. "Guess you really are now."
******************
Dean drifts off watching the statue and when he wakes up, there's a man sitting on the edge of his bed.
"What the hell?" He falls back, scrambling away from the guy.
"Hello, Dean," the man says calmly. "I'm Castiel. You purchased me."
******************
Dean stares at the man and it's impossible. Obviously utterly impossible that this man looks exactly the same as his stupid angel statue. He's got the same ugly trench coat, the same wild dark hair, the same bright blue eyes.
The same brilliant white wings draped off his back.
Maybe not exactly the same. With this new reality, the living breathing version, the wings shine both white and silver, with a hint of darker gray at the roots of each long feather. His face is no longer smooth, but covered in dark stubble and Dean sees fatigue gathered under eyes that shine with knowledge and feeling and life.
"What the hell," Dean repeats, punctuating each word with a huff of breath.
The angel cocks his head.
"You are my owner. My real owner, I should say. I'm pleased you found me finally. I was growing tired of my still form."
Dean clambers off the bed and whirls to face him, pointing a finger in his face.
"You aren't real," he declares. He hadn't gotten drunk last night, but maybe he ate something that disagreed with him. And chose to show it by turning up in his bedroom as a gigantic moving version of his little angel statue.
"I had feared the same thing about you, but here you are," the angel says. He stands up and shakes out his wings. They fall all the way to the floor and while Dean maintains that this isn't happening, he can't help, but itch to reach out and touch them.
"You listen to me, Pinocchio," he says, but that's as far as he gets before a high-pitched voice shouts down the hall-way.
"Uncle Dean!"
The door flies open and his seven year old niece, Polly runs in. Dean reaches out to grab her, to keep her away from the strange creature, but when he turns back, all he sees is the little statue laying at the edge of his bed.
"What's that?" Polly points to it. "Is that my present?"
Dean snatches up the doll and shoves it under his pillow.
"No, that's...I have no idea what that is."
******************
When Dean gets back from Polly's birthday party, he's ready to crash. Between the mental exhaustion of constantly reviewing his encounter with the statue and trying not to murder 12 excitable seven year-olds, he's about had it and just wants to sleep.
So of course, Castiel is waiting patiently for him on his bed.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean groans.
"You left me," Castiel accuses. His frown makes unwanted guilt curl in Dean's stomach. "Under a pillow. For hours."
"Well, I am so freaking sorry," Dean snaps as he shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto a chair. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Carry you around all day? And why the hell did you go statue again anyway?"
Castiel sighs. "You didn't want me to be seen. So I wasn't seen."
That doesn't make Dean feel any better. He really doesn't want to be in charge of anyone's life that much...especially not someone who isn't real.
"So I'm trying to hide my insanity," Dean muses aloud. Obviously, Castiel is fake, so he's a figment of Dean's imagination. But if he disappeared when another person showed up, then Dean still knew enough to want to keep his crazy a secret. That had to be a good sign, right?
"I've been told it's difficult for humans to show their hearts," Castiel says in an agreeing tone.
"Hang on...my heart?" Dean considers whether he even wants to know what Castiel means, but the choice is taken away from him.
"We've only just met," Castiel explains. "Once we become lovers, it'll be easier to show me to your family and friends."
Dean nearly chokes.
******************
"Dude, you're a freaking statue! We are not gonna be lovers!"
Dean is man enough to admit to himself that Castiel has the kinda looks that'd catch his eye otherwise. But he’s a statue. An inanimate object. It'd be like...screwing a giant dildo.
"I'm not a statue," Castiel says in a pissy tone, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at Dean from his position on the bed. "My true form is the one you prefer best."
"Excuse me?"
"And since you obviously chose this form," Castiel waves his hand to indicate his own body. "This is my natural state."
He stands from the bed and begins tugging at his tie. "My creators told me I would be everything you desired. So arguing about it is pointless."
It takes Dean till Castiel is unbuttoning his white dress shirt before he reacts. He jumps forward, grabbing Castiel's hands and pushed him to sit on the bed.
"Stop it," he orders. Partly because this is so very wrong. And partly because if Castiel loses any more clothes, Dean can't be sure he'd have the willpower to make him stop.
"I'm not...you can't just show up and declare yourself my ceramic boyfriend!"
"Why not?" Castiel asks, honestly confused. "Don't you enjoy sex?"
Dean snorts, eyes flicking down Castiel's body and lingering on those large powerful wings. Then he shakes himself.
"That's not the point!"
Castiel sighs. "You're being very difficult."
"I'm not fucking a statue," he snarls. To his surprise, Castiel nods calmly.
"You wish to be the passive partner?"
Dean stalks into the bathroom and slams the door.
******************
Castiel sleeps curled up in a ball on the couch in Dean's bedroom. Sometime between Dean coming out of the bathroom and giving Castiel something comfortable to sleep in, the two seem to have come to a cease-fire of sorts. Dean stops shouting at him and Castiel stops offering sex that he may or may not want for himself.
Because Dean has no problem with one-night stands or relationships based totally on sex. But he has a huge problem sleeping with someone who might not actually like him.
Still, it’s hard to remember that when he gets up the next day and sees Castiel folded in on himself in a pile on that couch. Dean is actually halfway across the room, intent on entangling the guy, when he remembers statue and stops himself.
When he gets out of the shower, Castiel is standing beside his bed with an anxious look that melts when he sees Dean's face.
"Good morning, Dean."
"Hey," Dean grunts. Castiel's eyes drag over his body. He’s glad he remembered to bring his shorts with him, if nothing else.
"What are we doing today?" Castiel asks as he watches Dean climb into his clothes.
"I'm going to work," Dean says firmly. "You're going to stay here and do whatever statues do. Collect dust or whatever."
Suddenly Castiel is in his face, his blue eyes dark and upset.
"Please don't leave me all day."
Dean actually stumbles a bit under the impressive tug he feels in his chest.
"I can't drag you around all day," he says, turning away so he didn't have to see Castiel's sad gaze. "I'm a teacher. My kids'll wonder who the weird man in the classroom is."
"So take me in my still form," Castiel urges, grabbing Dean's hand to tug him around. "Please."
Damn it and fuck. That lost expression is not fair. Dean stares into it for thirty seconds before sighing and grabbing his bag.
"Fine. Hop in." Before Castiel can transform, Dean sticks a finger in his face. "And no becoming a real person while we're there!"
Castiel smiles and brushes his fingers across Dean's temple.
"I promise."
The next moment, too quick for Dean to catch, Castiel disappears and there is an angel statue in his bag.
"Fuck, this is weird," Dean says as he zips his bag up and leaves the room.
******************
Dean sets Castiel very carefully on his desk. Penny Anderson points to him.
"Mr. Winchester, what's that?"
"My...angel."
She grins.
"He's pretty."
Dean shifts in his chair and tries not to agree.
******************
Besides Penny, no one really comments on Dean's angel statue that morning. A couple of the kids glance at it curiously, but their attention is soon captured by the addition and subtraction problems Dean drills into their heads. By the time lunch rolls around, he's almost gotten used to glancing back at his desk and seeing Castiel's stern frozen expression glaring back at him.
After he delivers the kids to the lunch aid, Dean forgoes eating lunch in the teacher's lounge in favor of having a picnic at his desk. His first reasoning is so he can keep an eye on Castiel and make sure the angel doesn't transform again. But as he unpacks his sandwich, eyes glued to the little guy, Dean thinks maybe he just doesn't want to spend thirty minutes away from Castiel.
"What's that?"
The question comes from Sarah Blake, one of his fellow first grade teachers. She walks over to the desk and reaches out as if to pick up Castiel. Dean grabs him before she can and moves the statue closer to his right arm.
"Just this thing I picked up the other day," he hedges and he feels like an idiot. Dean's not exactly the kind of man to own an angel statue, much less display it at school and much much less act possessive about it. Judging by the incredulous look in Sarah's eyes, she's having the same thoughts.
"Is it...did you...are you seeing someone?" she finally asks.
"What? No!" Dean says, too loudly. "Why'd you ask me that?"
"Just trying to decide why you're hunched protectively over a bizarre statue of a man with wings. I thought maybe some guy gave it to you," she reasons.
"It's not like that," Dean says. "I just...I don't know..." He rests the tips of his fingers against Castiel's small ceramic shoes.
"I just like him, I guess."
******************
As soon as Dean waves goodbye to his last kid and locks the door to his classroom, he hears a whooshing sound he strongly suspects is feather-related. Sure enough, when he turns around, Castiel is perched on the edge of his desk, shaking out his humongous wings. Papers and pencils go flying in all directions, skittering across the floor. Castiel jumps off the desk and pulls his wings tight across his back.
"I'm sorry," he says immediately as a blush unfolds across his cheeks.
"Whatever," Dean says. He could scold the guy, sure, but he imagines it probably sucked to feel cooped up in statue form all day.
Together they stoop down to pick up the errant items. Castiel's feathers brush along Dean's bare arms. They're just a silky smooth as he imagined they'd be.
"I enjoyed listening to you speak today," Castiel comments softly. His tone is different than the blank demanding one he used to offer himself to Dean. It's gentle and shy and sort of crawls into Dean's chest, making his heart ache a little.
"Can't imagine first grade lessons are all that interesting," Dean grunts. Sure, they are to him, but he's the teacher. He signed up for this.
Castiel can't have wanted any of this to happen to him. This weird servitude. Waiting in the same stiffened position all day for his...his what, his human? His owner? His master?
"I've never attended lessons," Castiel explains as they stand. Dean sets the papers back on his desk and turns to Castiel with a frown in place.
"Why not?"
"I was created this way," he says, gesturing up and down himself. "Fully grown. With two forms."
"You said I...chose this form?"
Castiel smiles happily. "Yes, that's how I knew you were my true owner. You are the first in a great many other owners that preferred me in this shape rather than the statue. You wished for me to match you, so we can better love one another."
"Okay, listen," Dean says. He pushes Castiel into one of the small computer chairs and begins to pace. "You can't just automatically love someone. You have to get to know a person. We can't just become lovers, okay?"
A worried frown grows on Castiel's face. "But you want me. You called me into this shape!"
"I'm not..." His fists curl with frustration. "I'm not saying I want you to go away. But I don't love you. I don't even know you! And you can't love me."
Castiel narrows his eyes at him and then there's a flash. Dean jerks in surprise. Between one blink and the next, Castiel is gone, leaving his statue form lying across the chair.
He sighs.
Great. Now Castiel's pissed at him.
******************
It feels strange packing Castiel away with his papers, but Dean can't leave the angry little statue lying there, so he gets stuffed away in Dean's bag beside his lunch box.
When they get home, Castiel goes onto his nightstand. Dean tries to go about his regular evening business. Making dinner, calling Sam, grading papers, watching the game. But nothing can completely keep his attention. He nearly burns the burger he makes. He stares the same math paper for 15 minutes, not marking a single problem. Even Sam asks him if he feels well. After they hang up, Dean tosses his phone onto the couch and stomps into his bedroom.
This has gone on long enough.
He snatches the statue up off the nightstand and throws it on the bed.
"Okay, wake up!"
Nothing happens. Dean pokes at it.
"Hey! Wake the fuck up and talk to me!"
Another moment passes in silence. Dean picks Castiel up again and shakes him.
"Stop ignoring-"
Castiel suddenly explodes into existence. Dean's hand is now clenched around Castiel's collar and they are so far into each other's personal space that Dean can feel Castiel's heart beating against his chest.
"What do you want, Dean?"
In contrast to Dean's bellowing, Castiel's voice is soft and brittle. Dean hates the way it sounds.
"I want..." He didn't know what he wanted, really. Just, he couldn't concentrate knowing that Castiel was mad at him. "What the hell is your problem anyway?"
Castiel's eyes narrow and he pushes away from Dean. "You said I couldn't love you."
"Well, you can't. You don't know anything about me," Dean says.
"I know all I need to know," Castiel says. In addition to the stiff anger in his voice, Dean hears absolutely certainty. Conviction he can't comprehend. It can't be for him.
"Right," he scoffs. "And what's that?"
"You chose me," Castiel says. He surges forward, back in Dean's space, a sudden passion glowing in his eyes. "You chose me in this form, this body that can see and hear." He presses a hand over Dean's heart.
"That can feel."
"Cas," Dean says weakly, totally at a loss.
"I don't care who or what you think you are," Castiel says. "You gave me this freedom." He lifts his hand to Dean's face, slides his palm over Dean's check and smiles.
"How could I not love you?"
******************
Dean leans against Castiel's and maybe he doesn't really comprehend what's going on, but he believes Castiel means what he's been saying.
Still, he has issues with the whole idea.
"I still don't know anything about you," he says. "Except that you seem to want to do whatever I feel like."
He means in the bedroom, can't forget the way Castiel offered himself however Dean wanted him, but the words make Castiel frown.
"Then you wanted me to revert to statue form and refuse to speak with you?"
"What? No, of course not," Dean stutters. "That's not what I meant-"
"I can do whatever I want, Dean," Castiel says sternly. "I want to do what you want sexually because I wish to please you and I have no experience with intercourse. I thought I should rely on superior knowledge."
Dean's 'superior knowledge' gives him a plethora of images and ideas, all the various ways he could help Castiel earn that experience.
He pulls himself out of Castiel's grasp. His own reticence surprises Dean. Normally, if a hot guy was throwing himself at Dean, promising to please him, Dean would the guy in his bed without a second thought.
There is something different about Castiel that he can't quite pinpoint.
"But if you want to learn more about me," Castiel continues, drawing Dean's attention from his confusion. "We could do that as well. Should you interview me?"
"No, that's not...humans, we just go out when we want to know someone."
"Go out?" The tilt of Castiel's head makes Dean bite back a smile.
"On a date." The blankness doesn't fade from Castiel's expression. "You go and do stuff together. And then you talk during it so you can get to know each other."
It sounds like how he might explain a date to one of his students, but Dean doesn't know how to correctly put into words the way it bonds two people together to do something fun and share jokes and spend the night trying to figure out how close you can get to the other person.
Apparently that doesn't matter because Castiel's pretty blue eyes light up and he grabs Dean's hand.
"Yes, a date. Let's do that."
******************
Dean eyes the giant fluffy wings rustling against Castiel's back. They might be soft and strangely enticing yes, but they can't exactly go out to the movies with those puppies dragging behind Castiel. Not without getting carted off to a freak show.
"You can't go out with those," Dean says, tossing a hand towards the wings.
Castiel looks over his own left shoulder before turning a deep frown on Dean.
"They obviously please you or they wouldn't be here," he says in a lecturing tone.
"I'm not blaming you for them." Talking to Castiel is like walking through a particularly annoying minefield. "People don't have wings. It's gonna be suspicious."
Castiel heaves a small sigh as if thoroughly vexed with the idiocy of the human race and its lack of wings.
"This is my appearance, Dean. I can change between my two forms, but I can't change parts of my own body unless you wish me to change," he explains slowly. He obviously feels Dean's not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Dean manages not to slug him.
"Fine then. Change," he says.
A moment passes in silence. Castiel's right wing flicks against his leg, but otherwise the wings stay put. Dean huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Why're they still here?"
"You obviously don't really want them to go," Castiel says calmly.
"Uh, yeah, no I really do," Dean argues. "You have to leave the house sometime and I'm not taking you out on a date in statue form and you can't have them, so get rid of them."
He tries to make his voice sound commanding, but apparently the wings aren't convinced because if anything they seem to grow larger, puffing up with arrogance against Castiel's back.
Mocking him.
"Dude, seriously!" He reaches forward and pokes one of them. "Get out of here."
"Dean." Castiel sounds exasperated. "They aren't sentient. You're the one who won't let them go."
"And why would I do that?"
The aggravation he wants to thread into his tone is absent in favor of what could be called cautious worry. Not that Dean's analyzing himself too hard.
Castiel shrugs and then a pleased little smile quirks the corner of his mouth.
"You've grown attached to them, I suspect."
"That's stupid," Dean snaps, turning away to start rummaging in his dresser as if he needs to change. It's not like the wings aren't cool because what's not badass about huge fucking wings? So yeah, he likes that they're soft and silky against his skin, the way they flutter and flap as if Castiel could take off at any second. And the fact that Castiel could actually just start flying is freaking awesome. Even to someone who hates to fly, flying under your own power is all kinds of amazing.
Maybe Dean's stupid.
"Okay so, it's possible I like the wings," he admits to his underwear drawer. "But I honestly do think you need to change them." Even if he will miss them. "If we're going to...you know...whatever."
Have a relationship.
Castiel's hand presses against Dean's shoulder and he turns him around.
"I could bring them back when we're alone," he says softly.
"Yeah?" The heavy feeling in his chest lightens and without thinking Dean reaches out again, this time to card his fingers through the long white feathers. Castiel makes a happy little noise, a humming sigh that Dean really likes.
"Yes," Castiel says breathlessly.
Now Dean really doesn't want to make the wings leave, but he made such a fuss about getting to know Castiel, he can't relent now. So he allows himself a few more good gropes before pulling his hand away and when he says it this time, he really means it.
"Put those things away."
In an instant, the wings are gone, leaving Castiel seeming much smaller. Distress crosses his features and he reaches to his own back, patting at his sides with a dark line of discontent forming along his brow.
"This is unpleasant."
Dean misses them too, but Castiel is still handsome. Well, more than handsome. He's still epically fucking hot, but the point is, the allure is not gone.
Still, it must be weird to have two significant body parts suddenly torn away. Dean comes to his side and places his hand against Castiel's back.
"Sorry. I really wish you could just have them on, but it could be dangerous for you," he says and guilt climbs into his chest, bringing his light mood back down again.
But then Castiel smiles.
"You would choose to leave them," he says.
"Yeah, I guess I would."
"Then I don't mind making the sacrifice for our date," Castiel says. He shakes himself, as if trying to push off his discomfort and takes Dean's hand. "Where are we going?"
Dean shrugs. "I don't know. We'll just...you know..."
"Make it up as we go?"
"Yeah," Dean says with a grin, pulling Castiel towards the door. "So hey, I can have you any way I want? Like at all?"
"I suppose," Castiel says suspiciously as he follows along.
"Really? So you could be Jake Gyllenhaal? Or like Tobey Maguire?"
Castiel halts in the doorway. "You like this form," he orders him and Dean laughs.
"Yeah, I really do."
******************
Dean isn't really that great at planning dates with actual people. He has even less idea how to show a statue a good time.
"What do you like to do?"
They're in Dean's car. Castiel is looking around himself as if in awe. Which he might be. As far as Dean knows, he's never been inside a car in this form.
"I don't know," Castiel says. "I've never done anything before."
Of course. Dean thinks. It's probably too soon to introduce Castiel to alcohol. Going to see a movie would defeat the purpose of getting to know each other. He’s not particularly hungry.
"What do humans do for fun?"
"Lots of things," Dean says, even though his mind is kind of blank. It takes him a moment, but he finally scrounges up a couple of random activities to describe. Castiel listens avidly until Dean runs out of steam and begins saying things he hasn't done in years.
"Wait," Castiel says. "They have places where you can swim this far from the ocean?"
Dean falters. "You want to go swimming?"
"Oh yes," Castiel enthuses. "Let us go swimming."
It'll be a pain going to buy swim trunks and sunscreen, not to mention all the showering involved, but Castiel looks so excited that Dean just nods and steers the car to the nearest clothing store. An hour and a few more store trips later, they both own a new pair of trunks, some flip-flops and a big bottle of sunscreen.
"You're pretty pale," Dean says as he pays to get them into the pool. "So we have to make sure you’re completely covered."
Castiel is barely paying attention. His eyes are glued to the big blue pool, the water rolling in small waves under the motion of dozens of bodies. The sounds of splashing and shouting fill the air. Castiel's eyes grow as big as saucers. Looking out over the crowd, Dean sees more than one attractive half-naked man.
Maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world.
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: Inanimate objects in love
Summary: Dean purchases an angel statue.
Author's Notes: I want one for myself.
Dean walks the length of the antique store, looking for the sort of doll his niece would like. His eyes catch on an odd statue of a man wearing a tan trench coat with great white wings sprouting off his back.
"That's been in our collection for some time," the owner, a young man with bright eyes, suddenly croons in his ear. "Are you interested?"
And it's weird, even creepy with big staring blue eyes, but when Dean thinks of leaving the store without it, his stomach clenches.
"Yeah, sure," he says. "I'll take it."
******************
Dean sets the little statue on his bedside table. He's not looking forward to the ribbing he'll get from Sam for buying a freaking angel statue, but he's already grown fond of the little guy.
"Mom always said angels were watching me," he says to it with a smile. "Guess you really are now."
******************
Dean drifts off watching the statue and when he wakes up, there's a man sitting on the edge of his bed.
"What the hell?" He falls back, scrambling away from the guy.
"Hello, Dean," the man says calmly. "I'm Castiel. You purchased me."
******************
Dean stares at the man and it's impossible. Obviously utterly impossible that this man looks exactly the same as his stupid angel statue. He's got the same ugly trench coat, the same wild dark hair, the same bright blue eyes.
The same brilliant white wings draped off his back.
Maybe not exactly the same. With this new reality, the living breathing version, the wings shine both white and silver, with a hint of darker gray at the roots of each long feather. His face is no longer smooth, but covered in dark stubble and Dean sees fatigue gathered under eyes that shine with knowledge and feeling and life.
"What the hell," Dean repeats, punctuating each word with a huff of breath.
The angel cocks his head.
"You are my owner. My real owner, I should say. I'm pleased you found me finally. I was growing tired of my still form."
Dean clambers off the bed and whirls to face him, pointing a finger in his face.
"You aren't real," he declares. He hadn't gotten drunk last night, but maybe he ate something that disagreed with him. And chose to show it by turning up in his bedroom as a gigantic moving version of his little angel statue.
"I had feared the same thing about you, but here you are," the angel says. He stands up and shakes out his wings. They fall all the way to the floor and while Dean maintains that this isn't happening, he can't help, but itch to reach out and touch them.
"You listen to me, Pinocchio," he says, but that's as far as he gets before a high-pitched voice shouts down the hall-way.
"Uncle Dean!"
The door flies open and his seven year old niece, Polly runs in. Dean reaches out to grab her, to keep her away from the strange creature, but when he turns back, all he sees is the little statue laying at the edge of his bed.
"What's that?" Polly points to it. "Is that my present?"
Dean snatches up the doll and shoves it under his pillow.
"No, that's...I have no idea what that is."
******************
When Dean gets back from Polly's birthday party, he's ready to crash. Between the mental exhaustion of constantly reviewing his encounter with the statue and trying not to murder 12 excitable seven year-olds, he's about had it and just wants to sleep.
So of course, Castiel is waiting patiently for him on his bed.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean groans.
"You left me," Castiel accuses. His frown makes unwanted guilt curl in Dean's stomach. "Under a pillow. For hours."
"Well, I am so freaking sorry," Dean snaps as he shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto a chair. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Carry you around all day? And why the hell did you go statue again anyway?"
Castiel sighs. "You didn't want me to be seen. So I wasn't seen."
That doesn't make Dean feel any better. He really doesn't want to be in charge of anyone's life that much...especially not someone who isn't real.
"So I'm trying to hide my insanity," Dean muses aloud. Obviously, Castiel is fake, so he's a figment of Dean's imagination. But if he disappeared when another person showed up, then Dean still knew enough to want to keep his crazy a secret. That had to be a good sign, right?
"I've been told it's difficult for humans to show their hearts," Castiel says in an agreeing tone.
"Hang on...my heart?" Dean considers whether he even wants to know what Castiel means, but the choice is taken away from him.
"We've only just met," Castiel explains. "Once we become lovers, it'll be easier to show me to your family and friends."
Dean nearly chokes.
******************
"Dude, you're a freaking statue! We are not gonna be lovers!"
Dean is man enough to admit to himself that Castiel has the kinda looks that'd catch his eye otherwise. But he’s a statue. An inanimate object. It'd be like...screwing a giant dildo.
"I'm not a statue," Castiel says in a pissy tone, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at Dean from his position on the bed. "My true form is the one you prefer best."
"Excuse me?"
"And since you obviously chose this form," Castiel waves his hand to indicate his own body. "This is my natural state."
He stands from the bed and begins tugging at his tie. "My creators told me I would be everything you desired. So arguing about it is pointless."
It takes Dean till Castiel is unbuttoning his white dress shirt before he reacts. He jumps forward, grabbing Castiel's hands and pushed him to sit on the bed.
"Stop it," he orders. Partly because this is so very wrong. And partly because if Castiel loses any more clothes, Dean can't be sure he'd have the willpower to make him stop.
"I'm not...you can't just show up and declare yourself my ceramic boyfriend!"
"Why not?" Castiel asks, honestly confused. "Don't you enjoy sex?"
Dean snorts, eyes flicking down Castiel's body and lingering on those large powerful wings. Then he shakes himself.
"That's not the point!"
Castiel sighs. "You're being very difficult."
"I'm not fucking a statue," he snarls. To his surprise, Castiel nods calmly.
"You wish to be the passive partner?"
Dean stalks into the bathroom and slams the door.
******************
Castiel sleeps curled up in a ball on the couch in Dean's bedroom. Sometime between Dean coming out of the bathroom and giving Castiel something comfortable to sleep in, the two seem to have come to a cease-fire of sorts. Dean stops shouting at him and Castiel stops offering sex that he may or may not want for himself.
Because Dean has no problem with one-night stands or relationships based totally on sex. But he has a huge problem sleeping with someone who might not actually like him.
Still, it’s hard to remember that when he gets up the next day and sees Castiel folded in on himself in a pile on that couch. Dean is actually halfway across the room, intent on entangling the guy, when he remembers statue and stops himself.
When he gets out of the shower, Castiel is standing beside his bed with an anxious look that melts when he sees Dean's face.
"Good morning, Dean."
"Hey," Dean grunts. Castiel's eyes drag over his body. He’s glad he remembered to bring his shorts with him, if nothing else.
"What are we doing today?" Castiel asks as he watches Dean climb into his clothes.
"I'm going to work," Dean says firmly. "You're going to stay here and do whatever statues do. Collect dust or whatever."
Suddenly Castiel is in his face, his blue eyes dark and upset.
"Please don't leave me all day."
Dean actually stumbles a bit under the impressive tug he feels in his chest.
"I can't drag you around all day," he says, turning away so he didn't have to see Castiel's sad gaze. "I'm a teacher. My kids'll wonder who the weird man in the classroom is."
"So take me in my still form," Castiel urges, grabbing Dean's hand to tug him around. "Please."
Damn it and fuck. That lost expression is not fair. Dean stares into it for thirty seconds before sighing and grabbing his bag.
"Fine. Hop in." Before Castiel can transform, Dean sticks a finger in his face. "And no becoming a real person while we're there!"
Castiel smiles and brushes his fingers across Dean's temple.
"I promise."
The next moment, too quick for Dean to catch, Castiel disappears and there is an angel statue in his bag.
"Fuck, this is weird," Dean says as he zips his bag up and leaves the room.
******************
Dean sets Castiel very carefully on his desk. Penny Anderson points to him.
"Mr. Winchester, what's that?"
"My...angel."
She grins.
"He's pretty."
Dean shifts in his chair and tries not to agree.
******************
Besides Penny, no one really comments on Dean's angel statue that morning. A couple of the kids glance at it curiously, but their attention is soon captured by the addition and subtraction problems Dean drills into their heads. By the time lunch rolls around, he's almost gotten used to glancing back at his desk and seeing Castiel's stern frozen expression glaring back at him.
After he delivers the kids to the lunch aid, Dean forgoes eating lunch in the teacher's lounge in favor of having a picnic at his desk. His first reasoning is so he can keep an eye on Castiel and make sure the angel doesn't transform again. But as he unpacks his sandwich, eyes glued to the little guy, Dean thinks maybe he just doesn't want to spend thirty minutes away from Castiel.
"What's that?"
The question comes from Sarah Blake, one of his fellow first grade teachers. She walks over to the desk and reaches out as if to pick up Castiel. Dean grabs him before she can and moves the statue closer to his right arm.
"Just this thing I picked up the other day," he hedges and he feels like an idiot. Dean's not exactly the kind of man to own an angel statue, much less display it at school and much much less act possessive about it. Judging by the incredulous look in Sarah's eyes, she's having the same thoughts.
"Is it...did you...are you seeing someone?" she finally asks.
"What? No!" Dean says, too loudly. "Why'd you ask me that?"
"Just trying to decide why you're hunched protectively over a bizarre statue of a man with wings. I thought maybe some guy gave it to you," she reasons.
"It's not like that," Dean says. "I just...I don't know..." He rests the tips of his fingers against Castiel's small ceramic shoes.
"I just like him, I guess."
******************
As soon as Dean waves goodbye to his last kid and locks the door to his classroom, he hears a whooshing sound he strongly suspects is feather-related. Sure enough, when he turns around, Castiel is perched on the edge of his desk, shaking out his humongous wings. Papers and pencils go flying in all directions, skittering across the floor. Castiel jumps off the desk and pulls his wings tight across his back.
"I'm sorry," he says immediately as a blush unfolds across his cheeks.
"Whatever," Dean says. He could scold the guy, sure, but he imagines it probably sucked to feel cooped up in statue form all day.
Together they stoop down to pick up the errant items. Castiel's feathers brush along Dean's bare arms. They're just a silky smooth as he imagined they'd be.
"I enjoyed listening to you speak today," Castiel comments softly. His tone is different than the blank demanding one he used to offer himself to Dean. It's gentle and shy and sort of crawls into Dean's chest, making his heart ache a little.
"Can't imagine first grade lessons are all that interesting," Dean grunts. Sure, they are to him, but he's the teacher. He signed up for this.
Castiel can't have wanted any of this to happen to him. This weird servitude. Waiting in the same stiffened position all day for his...his what, his human? His owner? His master?
"I've never attended lessons," Castiel explains as they stand. Dean sets the papers back on his desk and turns to Castiel with a frown in place.
"Why not?"
"I was created this way," he says, gesturing up and down himself. "Fully grown. With two forms."
"You said I...chose this form?"
Castiel smiles happily. "Yes, that's how I knew you were my true owner. You are the first in a great many other owners that preferred me in this shape rather than the statue. You wished for me to match you, so we can better love one another."
"Okay, listen," Dean says. He pushes Castiel into one of the small computer chairs and begins to pace. "You can't just automatically love someone. You have to get to know a person. We can't just become lovers, okay?"
A worried frown grows on Castiel's face. "But you want me. You called me into this shape!"
"I'm not..." His fists curl with frustration. "I'm not saying I want you to go away. But I don't love you. I don't even know you! And you can't love me."
Castiel narrows his eyes at him and then there's a flash. Dean jerks in surprise. Between one blink and the next, Castiel is gone, leaving his statue form lying across the chair.
He sighs.
Great. Now Castiel's pissed at him.
******************
It feels strange packing Castiel away with his papers, but Dean can't leave the angry little statue lying there, so he gets stuffed away in Dean's bag beside his lunch box.
When they get home, Castiel goes onto his nightstand. Dean tries to go about his regular evening business. Making dinner, calling Sam, grading papers, watching the game. But nothing can completely keep his attention. He nearly burns the burger he makes. He stares the same math paper for 15 minutes, not marking a single problem. Even Sam asks him if he feels well. After they hang up, Dean tosses his phone onto the couch and stomps into his bedroom.
This has gone on long enough.
He snatches the statue up off the nightstand and throws it on the bed.
"Okay, wake up!"
Nothing happens. Dean pokes at it.
"Hey! Wake the fuck up and talk to me!"
Another moment passes in silence. Dean picks Castiel up again and shakes him.
"Stop ignoring-"
Castiel suddenly explodes into existence. Dean's hand is now clenched around Castiel's collar and they are so far into each other's personal space that Dean can feel Castiel's heart beating against his chest.
"What do you want, Dean?"
In contrast to Dean's bellowing, Castiel's voice is soft and brittle. Dean hates the way it sounds.
"I want..." He didn't know what he wanted, really. Just, he couldn't concentrate knowing that Castiel was mad at him. "What the hell is your problem anyway?"
Castiel's eyes narrow and he pushes away from Dean. "You said I couldn't love you."
"Well, you can't. You don't know anything about me," Dean says.
"I know all I need to know," Castiel says. In addition to the stiff anger in his voice, Dean hears absolutely certainty. Conviction he can't comprehend. It can't be for him.
"Right," he scoffs. "And what's that?"
"You chose me," Castiel says. He surges forward, back in Dean's space, a sudden passion glowing in his eyes. "You chose me in this form, this body that can see and hear." He presses a hand over Dean's heart.
"That can feel."
"Cas," Dean says weakly, totally at a loss.
"I don't care who or what you think you are," Castiel says. "You gave me this freedom." He lifts his hand to Dean's face, slides his palm over Dean's check and smiles.
"How could I not love you?"
******************
Dean leans against Castiel's and maybe he doesn't really comprehend what's going on, but he believes Castiel means what he's been saying.
Still, he has issues with the whole idea.
"I still don't know anything about you," he says. "Except that you seem to want to do whatever I feel like."
He means in the bedroom, can't forget the way Castiel offered himself however Dean wanted him, but the words make Castiel frown.
"Then you wanted me to revert to statue form and refuse to speak with you?"
"What? No, of course not," Dean stutters. "That's not what I meant-"
"I can do whatever I want, Dean," Castiel says sternly. "I want to do what you want sexually because I wish to please you and I have no experience with intercourse. I thought I should rely on superior knowledge."
Dean's 'superior knowledge' gives him a plethora of images and ideas, all the various ways he could help Castiel earn that experience.
He pulls himself out of Castiel's grasp. His own reticence surprises Dean. Normally, if a hot guy was throwing himself at Dean, promising to please him, Dean would the guy in his bed without a second thought.
There is something different about Castiel that he can't quite pinpoint.
"But if you want to learn more about me," Castiel continues, drawing Dean's attention from his confusion. "We could do that as well. Should you interview me?"
"No, that's not...humans, we just go out when we want to know someone."
"Go out?" The tilt of Castiel's head makes Dean bite back a smile.
"On a date." The blankness doesn't fade from Castiel's expression. "You go and do stuff together. And then you talk during it so you can get to know each other."
It sounds like how he might explain a date to one of his students, but Dean doesn't know how to correctly put into words the way it bonds two people together to do something fun and share jokes and spend the night trying to figure out how close you can get to the other person.
Apparently that doesn't matter because Castiel's pretty blue eyes light up and he grabs Dean's hand.
"Yes, a date. Let's do that."
******************
Dean eyes the giant fluffy wings rustling against Castiel's back. They might be soft and strangely enticing yes, but they can't exactly go out to the movies with those puppies dragging behind Castiel. Not without getting carted off to a freak show.
"You can't go out with those," Dean says, tossing a hand towards the wings.
Castiel looks over his own left shoulder before turning a deep frown on Dean.
"They obviously please you or they wouldn't be here," he says in a lecturing tone.
"I'm not blaming you for them." Talking to Castiel is like walking through a particularly annoying minefield. "People don't have wings. It's gonna be suspicious."
Castiel heaves a small sigh as if thoroughly vexed with the idiocy of the human race and its lack of wings.
"This is my appearance, Dean. I can change between my two forms, but I can't change parts of my own body unless you wish me to change," he explains slowly. He obviously feels Dean's not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Dean manages not to slug him.
"Fine then. Change," he says.
A moment passes in silence. Castiel's right wing flicks against his leg, but otherwise the wings stay put. Dean huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Why're they still here?"
"You obviously don't really want them to go," Castiel says calmly.
"Uh, yeah, no I really do," Dean argues. "You have to leave the house sometime and I'm not taking you out on a date in statue form and you can't have them, so get rid of them."
He tries to make his voice sound commanding, but apparently the wings aren't convinced because if anything they seem to grow larger, puffing up with arrogance against Castiel's back.
Mocking him.
"Dude, seriously!" He reaches forward and pokes one of them. "Get out of here."
"Dean." Castiel sounds exasperated. "They aren't sentient. You're the one who won't let them go."
"And why would I do that?"
The aggravation he wants to thread into his tone is absent in favor of what could be called cautious worry. Not that Dean's analyzing himself too hard.
Castiel shrugs and then a pleased little smile quirks the corner of his mouth.
"You've grown attached to them, I suspect."
"That's stupid," Dean snaps, turning away to start rummaging in his dresser as if he needs to change. It's not like the wings aren't cool because what's not badass about huge fucking wings? So yeah, he likes that they're soft and silky against his skin, the way they flutter and flap as if Castiel could take off at any second. And the fact that Castiel could actually just start flying is freaking awesome. Even to someone who hates to fly, flying under your own power is all kinds of amazing.
Maybe Dean's stupid.
"Okay so, it's possible I like the wings," he admits to his underwear drawer. "But I honestly do think you need to change them." Even if he will miss them. "If we're going to...you know...whatever."
Have a relationship.
Castiel's hand presses against Dean's shoulder and he turns him around.
"I could bring them back when we're alone," he says softly.
"Yeah?" The heavy feeling in his chest lightens and without thinking Dean reaches out again, this time to card his fingers through the long white feathers. Castiel makes a happy little noise, a humming sigh that Dean really likes.
"Yes," Castiel says breathlessly.
Now Dean really doesn't want to make the wings leave, but he made such a fuss about getting to know Castiel, he can't relent now. So he allows himself a few more good gropes before pulling his hand away and when he says it this time, he really means it.
"Put those things away."
In an instant, the wings are gone, leaving Castiel seeming much smaller. Distress crosses his features and he reaches to his own back, patting at his sides with a dark line of discontent forming along his brow.
"This is unpleasant."
Dean misses them too, but Castiel is still handsome. Well, more than handsome. He's still epically fucking hot, but the point is, the allure is not gone.
Still, it must be weird to have two significant body parts suddenly torn away. Dean comes to his side and places his hand against Castiel's back.
"Sorry. I really wish you could just have them on, but it could be dangerous for you," he says and guilt climbs into his chest, bringing his light mood back down again.
But then Castiel smiles.
"You would choose to leave them," he says.
"Yeah, I guess I would."
"Then I don't mind making the sacrifice for our date," Castiel says. He shakes himself, as if trying to push off his discomfort and takes Dean's hand. "Where are we going?"
Dean shrugs. "I don't know. We'll just...you know..."
"Make it up as we go?"
"Yeah," Dean says with a grin, pulling Castiel towards the door. "So hey, I can have you any way I want? Like at all?"
"I suppose," Castiel says suspiciously as he follows along.
"Really? So you could be Jake Gyllenhaal? Or like Tobey Maguire?"
Castiel halts in the doorway. "You like this form," he orders him and Dean laughs.
"Yeah, I really do."
******************
Dean isn't really that great at planning dates with actual people. He has even less idea how to show a statue a good time.
"What do you like to do?"
They're in Dean's car. Castiel is looking around himself as if in awe. Which he might be. As far as Dean knows, he's never been inside a car in this form.
"I don't know," Castiel says. "I've never done anything before."
Of course. Dean thinks. It's probably too soon to introduce Castiel to alcohol. Going to see a movie would defeat the purpose of getting to know each other. He’s not particularly hungry.
"What do humans do for fun?"
"Lots of things," Dean says, even though his mind is kind of blank. It takes him a moment, but he finally scrounges up a couple of random activities to describe. Castiel listens avidly until Dean runs out of steam and begins saying things he hasn't done in years.
"Wait," Castiel says. "They have places where you can swim this far from the ocean?"
Dean falters. "You want to go swimming?"
"Oh yes," Castiel enthuses. "Let us go swimming."
It'll be a pain going to buy swim trunks and sunscreen, not to mention all the showering involved, but Castiel looks so excited that Dean just nods and steers the car to the nearest clothing store. An hour and a few more store trips later, they both own a new pair of trunks, some flip-flops and a big bottle of sunscreen.
"You're pretty pale," Dean says as he pays to get them into the pool. "So we have to make sure you’re completely covered."
Castiel is barely paying attention. His eyes are glued to the big blue pool, the water rolling in small waves under the motion of dozens of bodies. The sounds of splashing and shouting fill the air. Castiel's eyes grow as big as saucers. Looking out over the crowd, Dean sees more than one attractive half-naked man.
Maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-30 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 04:46 pm (UTC)Dean as a teacher sounds awesome :)
no subject
Date: 2010-06-30 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-01 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-23 03:25 am (UTC)I loved this so much.
<3<3<3<3<3<3
no subject
Date: 2010-11-03 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-10 05:32 am (UTC)I dunno why, but I'm smiling imagine those two in trunks and flip-flops, I really dunno why... they'd look hot i guess *_*
Anyway... hope you write more of this verse... or maybe u already have, i'm gonna search xD
Cool
Date: 2011-03-22 11:20 pm (UTC)I've got to say I like this better it's a lot less complicated.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 03:58 pm (UTC)