Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Truce - Twenty One Pilots

"The Sun Will Rise And We Will Try Again"

The long, low, hallow, horn of a train sounded in the distance as the laid in the back of the pick-up. The had collected hay from the side of the road and laid it out in the back and found a couple of blankets under the seat of the truck and nested in the bed of the pick-up.

They stared at the now fading stars, talking about the basic anatomy of hands now, Dean fiddled with a string on the button of his flannel shirt as Castiel talked about ligaments and tendons, the what-not. He couldn’t help but smile at Castiel’s dorky admiration over the small things, listening to everything he had to say about what fingernails were made of and how broken fingers mend themselves.

There was an underlying feeling that Dean refused to acknowledge, but honestly, he didn’t know what it was. Dean wasn’t one to be in tune with his emotions, feelings, and thoughts. They usually left him frustrated. Angry really.

“I like how the stars start to fade out into the colors of the sky,” Castiel sighed, arms laying on his stomach as he fiddled with the groves under his nail.

Dean chuckles lightly at that, a slight grin on his face, blinking eyelashes past his eyes to look up at the opening colors of the sky. “Never really noticed it.”

“It’s strange seeing stars here, and them actually being so far off and away and dead.”

“Well damn Cas, you don’t have to be so blunt about death.” the bubbles of air passing through Dean’s lungs into a small laugh.

“Death is probably the bluntest thing in existence.”

“What do you mean?” Dean looked to Castiel, who was now sitting against the window of the truck, leaning his weight against the rear windshield glass.

“Because death can come at any time, you never know when or how even if you have an expectancy of how you die,” Castiel sighed, “Like cancer...”

For some reason, that word sent chills down Dean’s spine and his nerves tingled, “Cas,” he swallowed “Are you sick?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel’s eyes widened, “Oh! No, no, no, no, but my aunt had cancer and I remember how she was expected to live three months but ended up living for five more years,” Castiel chuckled, playing with a piece of hay, staring out into the field, “Stubborn woman she was.”

Dean sighed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, I apologize.” Castiel looked up at Dean now, away from the open field, he gripped Dean’s hand slightly to acknowledge his apology to be more sincere.

Dean looked to his hand covered with Castiel’s, slightly mesmerized with the hold and grip, the vein that pulsated out slightly and callous. Castiel didn’t seem like it, but he was, in fact, able-bodied and solid for his height, and Dean could just tell by the way Castiel had gripped him in the seat of the truck and now by the heaviness of Castiel’s hand. Dean slightly moved his hand away and Castiel moved away.

Dean felt a grave dig into his heart as the contact left. It made absolutely no sense. He wanted to be touched in every way by everyone, but all at once he hated the contact because of the peace it held - or even the absolute harsh measures of touch that would have him aching in positives and negative.

He wanted to have Castiel touch him ever so gently and firm, but hit him for wanting it. The fierce course in his veins ached for something, it was almost sadistic and so wrong. He wanted to say please for so many reasons. Please tell me it’s alright to be happy. To be in this moment. To be with you. In this moment. I don’t know if I’m lost or if I’m genuinely wanting this, but tell me everything will be alright.

“What are you thinking behind those eyes of yours?” Castiel questioned, face blank in a stare. It was almost soul-destroying, but it was also renewing.

Dean swallowed, low into his throat, the heat of guilt swallowing his stomach, he struggled for breath to get out what he wanted to say, he sighed out finally“I’m hoping everything is going to be alright.”

“Of course it is.” Castiel mused softly, laying down and shifting his body to face towards Dean.

“What if I’m not?” Dean asked, feeling the grave dig into vulnerability.

“I’m not either,” Castiel said, moving a tuft of hair from Dean’s hair, he really needed a haircut, “But that’s alright.”

Dean didn’t believe it.

“Or it will be,” Castiel continued, “Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next, but eventually,” Castiel suddenly put his hand on Dean’s face, pressing into the hard cheekbone - Dean hated himself for flinching at that, but Castiel didn’t move, “It’s going to be okay Dean, I may not know what you’re going through, but I know this - You will be alright.”

Dean nodded, feeling small in Castiel’s palm and for the word speaking through his heart. He barely knew Castiel but… Here he was, going for it.

Castiel’s breath caught between them before he pulled and snaked his other hand around Dean’s head, the other still on Dean’s face, bring them close together as they took it in themselves into a small kiss. Castiel hooked his leg between Dean’s and gripped Dean’s shirt. Dean groaned out air when his shoulder bumped the side of the truck but kept his lips up with Castiel as the moved.

What am I doing? This isn’t right. Not for me. Not for Castiel.

Dean pulled away, getting a gust of air before he was pulled back into a kiss so fervent, hungry and deep that he almost couldn’t breathe out and in for more. It wasn’t Castiel that pulled him in, in fact, Castiel was the one to fumble through the kisses before getting on track with Dean. This kiss wasn’t from Castiel. It was from Dean.

Dean flipped them over in the hay, pressing himself to Castiel, but keeping most of his weight off of the boy. He looked down at the boy below him. Castiel’s eyes were wide and hazy with a yearning for more and the greed of the morning sky opening up with the sun past the window shutters, clouds.

Dean felt a riveting rebellion against himself, his mind, body, soul, his father, Sam, society, the dreams, and Castiel as he tested out a liquid thrust against Castiel’s stern and sharp hip bones, causing a sudden, low, gasping breath from Castiel.

“Dean,” Castiel rasped. Dean moved against him again, feeling the sudden slight hardness against his hip as he moved against Castiel’s thigh.

Fuck. He moved again

“Dean,” Castiel rasped out and moved his hips up away, slightly bucking Dean away, “Wait.”

Dean nodded, holding tightly to Castiel and gave a peck at Castiel’s neck, he shifted away to give Castiel room to sit up. The blush deep on Castiel’s face and lips were already swollen from the biting playful nips Dean had abused his teeth on.

Castiel let out a shaky breath, “I…” he swallowed, “I’ve never really done this type of thing,” he cleared his throat, “I’m not that experienced.”

Dean smiled lightly and brought Castiel’s face closer to him and gave him a light peck. “I don’t either,” he whispered against Castiel’s lips, brushing the softly as he spoke, “Well not with boys anyway.”

Castiel blinked, eyelashes cascading a shadow, “Kiss me.”

Dean did.

He heard that wailing cry come from the distance, below the oak tree. He saw flashes of lightning. He flinched away, closing his eyes.

****

Dean opened his eyes, the sun beating down on him as he woke up from the dream, a light lined layer of sweat clung to his body and his neck ached from sleeping in the bed of the truck and he felt the aching hardness of his cock in his jeans. He looked beside him seeing Castiel asleep sitting against the corner of the bed of the truck, curled into himself.

What the fuck.

Dean had a different dream.

A dream about Castiel.

A boy he barely knew.

A dream about kissing him and having the want of…

...Fucking him…

What the fuck.

Dean flinched as Castiel moved slightly in his sleep, brows furrowing in his sleep, lips setting themselves into a pout. God Dean was curious about how they felt just now. Were they as soft as they were in the dream - Wait - Why was Dean thinking that way? There’s no way that’s going to happen. Yet, the small part of him he always knew was screaming on the inside.

He swallowed it down.

No time for that bullshit.

He sighed, frustrated with his hard-on and the thoughts of Castiel from his dream.