Title: Tripping on Words

Summary: He didn't want sex, just the love that he knew he could trick the other into claiming. Dean/Castiel.

Rating: PG

A/N: Title is from "You and Me" by Lifehouse. And let's have a moment of silence for Kim Manners, who helped make Cas' grand entrance so grand.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and its characters, and I could never hope to.

Tripping on Words

There was a warm body in his arms, soft and pliable. Someone who would follow his every command as soon as it was spoken. Someone who trusted him with everything - the world, the future, humanity - and wouldn't hesitate to do or say or please.

And he wanted. He desired. He needed. He felt it deep in his bones. It was selfish and it was wrong, but he had already damned himself, so what was one more sin to add to the torture, the enjoyment, the decades of pain and suffering he'd already endured.

He could lie. He could lie and his lie would never be discovered because he was with someone so innocent that virgins seemed tainted. He could lie and he could cheat and he could want and need and take and never be called out on it. Things were finally going right.

He didn't even want sex. Not really. He wanted that innocence. The love that he knew he could trick the other into claiming. He wanted to hear that he was special and unique and chosen and perfect. He wanted warm arms wrapped so tight around his body that he couldn't breathe. He wanted to feel like someone wanted him. Just because.

He wrapped his hands around a slim waist and smiled, breath huffing out onto the taut muscles of a tanned throat as dark hair tickled his shoulder and the one who could give him what he wanted leaned back into him.

"I love you."

He loved no one. He couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk the pain of giving part of himself to another, of watching one more person that he loved that claimed to love him take that part of him and rip it to shreds, walk all over it, and then disappear into the sunset.

The first rule of his life was that everyone left. He had to get used to it. Tricking one-night stands into saying the three simple words that made him believe, if only for a short time, that someone actually cared. Tricking himself into believing that they might wait for him like he waited for the ones he loved. That they were still waiting. Just like him.

The head pulled from his shoulder, turning to face him as blue eyes opened. The body never left. He wouldn't let it. Wrapped his arms tighter and held it closer and made himself warm and safe and wanted and loved. Even as those eyes stared. Even as that head cocked and he waited, his stomach doing flips.

No one had ever denied him before. None but those he had truly loved. The ones he tricked were caught up in bliss and pleasure, told to claim their feelings as they reached the height of their nightly actions, both brought to ecstasy at the same time. They by his actions; he by their words.

He had been careful this time. He had been slow, had been scared. He was a coward and he knew it as he stared into those ancient eyes. He remembered Hell, knew he was going back, but didn't want an express pass. He would do things differently and that would be his undoing.

Blue eyes blinked. "You don't."

He pulled the body closer, willing the warmth to stay. He'd just wanted to pretend, just wanted someone to hold. He nuzzled the neck, trying to incite the same feelings - wherever they had come from - that had gotten both their shirts off in the first place.

That hadn't been the answer he wanted.

"Sure I do."

Another blink. He had a sneaking suspicion that his mind was being read, that those eyes were staring into his soul, seeing him for what he was. He expected the body to move away, the face to be filled with disgust, the warmth to leave. He was nothing. He wasn't loved or special or chosen or perfect or unique, and despite his care he was going back. He'd overstepped, he'd gone too far, played with untouchable innocence and there was a price to be paid.

"No, you don't." A hand snaked up and around to touch his face. "But that's ok."

Warm fingers skittered over rough stubble and he wished he could believe it. He wished it was true.

"I love you." Because he needed that warmth, needed that acceptance. He just needed so much.

"If I were to claim that the feeling were mutual, you would stop lying to my face?"

His heart clenched. It was almost as good as a yes, almost there, so close he could taste it. Everything he'd ever wanted. Someone that came back.

So he nodded.

He nodded and he felt the body seize up and relax. A sigh. Bright blue eyes were swallowed up by pale lids and long dark lashes. He waited.

Hair once again tickled his shoulder as their previous position was resumed, standing awkwardly in the room, wanting and breathing and being.

"I love you, too."

Dean closed his eyes and allowed himself to believe that angels couldn't lie.

End. As always, reviews are encouraged :)