Flawed Design

Summary- It's supposed to be everything that he wanted, it should be easy but he's struggling and maybe what he really wanted was closer than he thought all along... DeanxCas

Disclaimer- Not mine, really wish they were though,

Ok I really hope this is ok it's my first fic in a long time and I really needed to post something so I hope you enjoy,

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He's trying to make this work, trying to resist the hunt; it runs through him as thickly and heavily as the blood in his veins, the urge, the desperation, he assumed he could just give it up, that he didn't really want that life, but it's everything he's ever known, born and bred a hunter. He still salts the windows at night, Lisa thinks he's paranoid, Ben thinks it's funny, he sleeps with a gun under his pillow and keeps Ruby's knife hidden beneath the couch, he came close to killing his neighbour in the first few weeks, thought he was acting suspiciously, demonically, turned out he was your regular suburban peeping tom but Dean was fairly certain he'd scared that out of him.

People sicken him more than demons these days, he reads the paper every morning and the things that human's will do to each other is shocking, he finds himself wondering why he bothered stopping the apocalypse, wonders what Sam gave his life for.

He feels useless here, struggles to keep down a job and Lisa kisses him and tells him it's fine, he drops Ben off at School, picks him up, drives round in a beat up old truck because he isn't worthy of the Impala these days, she symbolises what he's lost, the life on the road, his baby brother, Castiel.

He's read more books these past few months than he has in his entire life, there's nothing he can use to save Sam, no hint, no loophole, no demon, no angel willing to head into the pit like Cas was for him. He watches daytime television until he feels brain dead, drinks more than he should, attends basketball and baseball games, he heads to the park and chucks a ball around with Ben. Dinner and movies with Lisa, her parents come round on the weekend and her father passes remarks at how unsuited Dean is for her, the hunter doesn't really care for him either, hopes he gets possessed in the near future and the eldest Winchester has to send him packing to Hell.

They drag him to church every Sunday and he sits and grumbles, God was no help to him, he wants to stand up and scream that God's not up there that he's not listening, he's missing and he's not coming back any time soon because he can't handle the pressure of it all. He stares at the stained glass, at Michael depicted within them, angels aren't all forgiving, they're not gentle and caring, they're warriors, heartless ones at that. Cas was... different, strong, moral, he risked everything to help them, died for Dean, fell for their cause.

"They never mention Castiel," he doesn't realise he's said it aloud until Lisa nudges him, smirks as though he's losing his mind and what's he meant to say, 'sorry it's just he's the angel that dragged me out of the pit, helped us to avoid the apocalypse and deserves a little more recognition than he gets,' he didn't think it would go down that well.

He's driving back from the church, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Back in Black, Ben's request, said boy is sat in the back bopping his head to the same beat, Dean smiles, sees himself at that age in the kid.

"So," Lisa begins turns down the music a little so that he can hear her, "who's Castiel?" he frowns, turns his face to meet her own, she's smiling, like a cat that caught the canary. He finds it amusing, her parents are very religious and Lisa obviously just goes to church every Sunday to give them the impression that she is to.

"Castiel, Lisa my dear, is an angel of the Lord," he smirks because the words are strange on his tongue, he feels he's successfully got one up on her but the smile doesn't falter from her pretty lips and her eyes are sparkling with childlike humour. He glances to the road and then back to her, "what?"

"Oh just you know, never knew you were so devout, dreaming of an angel of the Lord," she uses air quotes for the latter part of the sentence and Dean's never known air quotes betray him so terribly, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the road. She's laughing to herself and he turns up the music in an attempt to drown out the smugness that swells from her side of the car.

He's never told her about Castiel, he doesn't know why, he assumes because he's not sure where to start because it starts with him being in Hell and ends with Sam being in Hell and there's a couple of deaths and fallen angel's on the way and she's been understanding of a lot, the ghosts and the demons but he remembers angel's took it too far for him as well. More pressingly though he finds that when he thinks about Cas, he can't help but talk about his inability to comprehend personal space, that head tilt when he's confused, those eyes that are far too blue, his strength, his loyalty and those thoughts are a little uncomfortable.

Lisa continues to find this funny for weeks, he just grins and bares it because he realises that he may have asked for this after all the times he's made fun of her God loving family.

He decides to take Ben to the park to allow her time to forget, they take a ball and the puppy that Ben got for Christmas, a chocolate Labrador they named Zeppelin, much to Lisa's dismay.

"She'll give up eventually," Ben says through a smirk, he's suffered through many of his mother's long running jokes; Dean runs a hand over his face and nods.

"Yeah eventually she'll find out it's not funny,"

"It is a little funny," he shoots a glare at the kid,

"Whose side are you on?" Ben shrugs,

"Yours... unless mum asks and then hers,"

"Smart choice," he smiles and taps the steering wheel, pulling into a parking space, he steps out, feels the sunlight hit his face and remembers that this is what they all fought so hard for. They walk down by the river, the dog runs off with the ball and refuses to give it back and Dean gets frustrated because all dogs know how to play fetch except for this one.

He collapses on a bench as Ben chases after the demented pooch, he takes a moment to breathe, to lean back and enjoy the sunlight and he feels guilty because Sam should be enjoying it with him. When he opens his eyes he's confronted with unnatural blue, with dark hair and pale skin and that damned trench coat.

"Hello Dean,"

"Cas," he's surrounded by sunlight, it frames him as though it's his halo, he moves, takes a seat beside the hunter, staring at the same scene and Dean studies his profile as though it's the most important thing in the world. He thinks their meetings are always like this, they say each other's names, heavy and filled with emotion almost tangible enough to touch. They find silence and sit amongst it as the clock ticks and the world passes and it's enough, it's perfect, they understand each other so well, too well Dean worries, and Castiel mesmerizes him.

"It's been awhile," Dean mumbles, almost as though he's disappointed, betrayed,

"Things are... troublesome..." there's a frown creasing the angel's brow and he doesn't really understand what he is referring to. "How are you adjusting," he's leaning forward now, hands clasped as if in prayer and positioned carefully over his legs, his back is arched, the trench coat running along his frame as if water. Dean tears his gaze away, stares at the river across from them as it sparkles and shimmers in the late afternoon sun,

"It's different Cas," the angel glances at him, trying to decipher if the hunter is referring to a good difference or a bad difference, Dean gives nothing away.

"You seem happy," the hunter smiles, shifts his gaze briefly to the man beside him and then back to the river,

"Have you been watching me or something?"

"I have been ensuring your safety," Dean smirks and stares at his hands, leans back into the bench and glances off to check that Ben's alright, he's dragging a drowned rat of a dog out of the river, said dog doesn't seem to care for the 'rescue' and promptly runs down the path and jumps back in. The minute he turns back to Cas the angel has a smug grin on his face, like he knows something that Dean doesn't, "You seem different Dean...peaceful," he doesn't think Castiel's beautiful, at least that's what he tells himself when the angel's hand falls on his shoulder, when it squeezes just so, he doesn't want to grip hold of it, the angel disappears long before he can do anything and there's an emptiness that swells uncomfortably within the pit of his stomach.

They head home a few minutes later, Dean's had enough and he barks at Ben to get in the car, they drive home in silence, Ben's humming to himself as he rubs the dog dry with a towel.

"Dean?" the hunter glances at the boy calling his name; the kid seems puzzled, "What happened to the guy that was sat with you in the park?" his hands tighten around the steering wheel and he doesn't understand it at all.

"He left," it's clear cut, no room for questioning because, 'he flew back to heaven' just seems like it's a bit too ridiculous for anyone to believe.

"Who was he?" Dean wonders what's with the Spanish inquisition

"Just a friend,"

"Is he a hunter as well?" the kid is so intrigued by it all and that's dangerous territory Dean knows this all too well.

"Yeah you could say that,"

When they get back Lisa's ready to dish up dinner she doesn't mention Castiel and the tension from earlier is fading and everything seems to be back to normal. He heads to bed early when Lisa's friend turns up, leaves them alone for a catch up, watches TV in bed and falls asleep with some random soap drama blasting from the speakers.

He knows the feeling of Castiel's hands on him; he's strong and gentle all in once, a hand gripping a shoulder, an unforgiving fist, a scorching touch that snaps bones back into place and knits muscle back over them, which grafts skin back from nothing. He's pushed the angel until he can't walk any longer, until there's blood flowing from those perfect lips, until he's so close to human he's one breath away from falling.

He's never had Castiel's hand pushing him onto a bed, never had the angel straddling him but he can imagine it as though it had happened a thousand times over, he knows what the pressure on his chest would be, knows the weight of Castiel's form. The material of the trench coat feels so real as his hands slip it away from sloping shoulders, those eyes bore into him, they're bright and perfect and too blue for him to be able to comprehend. Every touch is mind boggling, every kiss makes him groan and when he bolts awake he's sweating and runs a shaky hand through his hair because something is not right with him.

He showers in the coldest of water, lashes out at the tiled wall with his fist; the tiles flake beneath the force, the water carries the blood away, diluted with the water. He wraps a towel around his waist, heads into the bedroom and comes face to face with Castiel, he swallows heavily and curses that the angel still fails to comprehend personal space.

"There's a demon after you," he whispers because he knows Lisa and Ben are in the house, he presses his hand to Dean's chest, the hunter doesn't focus on how similar the action it to his dream, how the force was exactly right, how the heat of the other's hand bleeds into his uncovered chest.

"What are you doing?"

"It should conceal you, I'll take care of the rest," he disappears a heartbeat later and Dean wonders about the angel's loyalty to him, how much trouble he goes to in order to ensure his safety, he's sure Cas has more pressing matters to deal with.

He feels more and more useless these days, he's sat waiting for Cas to reappear to tell him that everything's taken care of and he's not familiar with this, he understands it, he does, if he kills a demon then it sends a signal that they've got it right and to send the hoard, the big guns, the hellhounds, it's best for Castiel to handle it for Lisa and Ben's sake, but he can't take being baby sat, Dean Winchester is capable of looking after himself.

It's the sound of beating wings that signal Castiel's reappearance an hour later, Lisa's in bed sleeping soundly and Cas nods from the corner of the room to signal that they're good, he's bloody, his lip split and a cut across his cheek but it'll fade within an hour, Dean still thinks that he looks beautiful.

He fades without words, here and gone within a matter of minutes.

Angel's are watching over you...

He hears the words as if she whispered them into his ear just moments ago, she was wrong of course there's only ever been one angel watching him but he's got the best.

He's quiet for the next couple of days and Lisa asks him what's wrong, he brushes her off saying that it's nothing but there's an itch beneath his skin, it started days ago and it's growing, he can't ease it or suppress it. He craves the hunt, craves life on the road, he wants Cas, it's driving him mad.

He heads to the Impala, uncovers her and lets his hands trail across the bonnet, the doors, the trunk, her edges are harsh and unforgiving, the black is deep and endless, the silver spotless, she's got scratches that are too deep to polish out, she's got dents and the leather's started to give but she's a metaphor for him and she's perfect.

"You're struggling, I don't understand," It's Castiel and the voice is perfect, thick honey running across gravel and he glances back to see the slight head tilt and arms folded across his chest.

"It's not me Cas, none of this, it's nice but it's not right, there's so much missing,"

"I believed this was what you wanted,"

"Those things I used to hunt, they're all still out there, they're still killing people, I can stop that,"

"You're safest here," they stare at each other for what feels like hours, the silence heavy and tense and Dean doesn't know what to say, he understands that Cas wants to keep him safe, that he promised Sam that he would, just like he promised that he'd make this relationship with Lisa work, the angel leaves him with that thought and Dean's left talking to a wall as he so often is where the angel is involved.

He slowly covers the Impala again, burying her and any idea he had of escaping, he burns the note he left for Lisa in the sink, unpacks before she gets home and is sat at the school gate hours later waiting for Ben.

He doesn't see Castiel for months after but the dreams plague him, he dreams of hands and teeth, of lips bloodied and bruised, of the brightest blue and he thinks he's going straight back to Hell but the things he craves are over taking him and he'd gladly walk back into the pit for a taste of the angel's lips. He doesn't understand the origin of the dreams, of the wants, they've flared over the past few months and he can't help but think that it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It's Lisa's birthday the following month, Dean gets her a diamond necklace and she has her family over for dinner, it's an awkward time, the hunter is trying not to throttle her father who in turn is trying to make life as annoying and awkward for Dean as humanly possible.

Dean offers to clean up after dinner, hoping to avoid the old man at any and all cost, Lisa kisses him and gives him an apologetic look as she heads into the living room to join her family. He's standing in the kitchen long after he's finished just staring out into the darkness, he's longing for something out there and he doesn't fully understand it.

"So Winchester what you up to these days?" the old man bellows from the other room, he's gruff and ignorant and Dean usually struggles to stop himself from smacking him in the face, he strolls into the living room and glares at the elder male,

"Just doin' the rounds sir," he smiles and takes a sip of his beer, leaning against the wall, keeping his distance,

"Leave it dad," she insists rolling her eyes and running a hand through her hair, the bickering obviously getting to her.

"Well I just don't understand, he appears here out of the blue, no job history very little education to his name, what have you been doing this entire time son?" Dean chuckles and shakes his head, "what are you trained in? You've got no family, no home just a beat up Chevy in the garage collecting dust."

"Dad," Lisa warns again,

"You know what Rog; I really don't care what you think, why should I tell you anything, what was your greatest achievement in life, working in an office hating your job for fifty years, wishing your life away?"

"I did what I had to, to support my family,"

"You know I think I went above and beyond the call of duty for all of this," he storms past, grabs his jacket and keys and hits the road like he always does when he needs to cool off. It's therapeutic, he listens to music, thinks back to better days, smiles when he thinks of Sammy, he stops at a bar, has a couple of drinks to try and numb the dull ache in his chest that's been growing for days. Heavy whiskey has always been his saving grace,

Its a few minutes later when Castiel just appears, he looks aggravated and glares at Dean, the hunter suspects that he's in trouble.

"Is this supposed to help you?" he asks, tapping his fingertips on the bar, Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair,

"What's it to you Cas?"

"Are you always programmed to self destruct? I don 't have time to follow you around everywhere,"

"Then don't, I never asked for any of this," he can feel the angel's eyes roll with such a force,

"Of course not, we forced you into this life you always proclaimed you wanted; just to make you suffer," Dean turns to look at him, he's pleading with his eyes and the angel sighs, loosens his shoulders slightly,

"Please, Cas, don't do this," he doesn't want more berating, he doesn't want more people pointing out where he's going wrong, he knows exactly where he's screwing up, what he should be doing, but it's not what he wants and he can't escape that want because he's been trying for almost a year and failed each and every minute.

"You should go home," Cas says and their eyes have been locked for far too long,

"Where's home?" Cas reaches out to him, fingertips a mere brush on his forehead and they flash out of existence, reappear in a motel room in Michigan, one of the first few they stayed in after their mothers death, they went to school here, spent Christmas, lived normally for a good amount of time, just like every other kid.

Castiel knows him too well,

He's not sure what it is, the frustration of the past few days, the gentle warmth of the liquor from the bar, the sudden emotional transition or the fact that Castiel is leaning against the wall just so. Whatever it is he takes two steps closer to the angel who continues to watch him with unnatural blue eyes.

"How do you know?" he asks and his hands are gripping the front of the angel's shirt, the fabric tight beneath his whitening knuckles,

"I've been watching you for years Dean," it's that head tilt, the slight confusion over the fact that the hunter really didn't expect it, didn't want to believe.

"No wonder you're stressed," the hunter chuckles yet his grip on the other's clothing does not falter, Cas smiles, it's beautiful and perfect and he doesn't think, it's just an action, just the hint of lips against lips and not really anything fathomable. It's all misplaced teenage adrenaline from that point on, his kisses are harsh and bruising and to his surprise the angel responds with just as much fervour.

He's reminded of that Castiel he saw in the future, all rough round the edges and undeniably human. He had ignored the way the hunter had stared at the fallen angel in that future, ignored the implications it provided because that couldn't be them, but it had planted a seed all that time ago, and he thought a little more whenever he saw the angel, when he made him laugh, made him angry, when he would stand on the street corner all night to give Dean a little more time, when he had faltered, when he'd fallen, when he was so human that he was painful to look at because he was still so hauntingly beautiful.

He stops, breathing heavy allows his head to fall against Castiel's own and it's just laboured breathing and thundering hearts. It's Cas that slams him up against the wall, lips harsh and desperate and Dean groans against the angel, he slips the trademark coat from strong shoulders, allows it to pool around their feet on the ground.

It's Castiel that pushes him to the motel bed, the force of the hand the exact same pressure as in his dreams and he's not submissive but he enjoys the show of dominance.

Clothes are shed quickly, and the hunter tries not to focus too much on the expanse of perfect pallid flesh that is offered up to him, he flips them, pinning the angel beneath him and teeth and lips trace a line from the other's jaw bone to his neck, he's tainting the skin with bruises that will have healed by morning and a hand closes around the scar left from where he was pulled from Hell. He moans against Castiel's neck, the touch almost too much with the wave of pleasure it sends through him.

It's all desperate touches and they fit together like two puzzle pieces, every touch is overwhelming, every kiss bruising, every thrust enough to send him over the edge and he digs his fingertips into Castiel's hips to keep him grounded. He doesn't think of the implications of sleeping with his angel, just wonders why they didn't do this sooner and smirks into Cas' lips because there's a hint of that future Cas in him, even if it's only a hint, he runs a hand through the angel's hair, grips onto him tightly and thinks that this Castiel is perfect and that he'd never want to change him.

"I'm sorry," he says long after the heat has started to fade from their skin, when the heartbeats have returned to normal and the lust subsided just enough to allow them to function. Castiel smirks and rolls his eyes,

"You need to stop feeling guilty for everything Dean," there's a kiss, it's heartfelt and passionate, Cas's hand grips the back of his neck bringing them closer and Dean holds on tightly because he knows what this is. He allows his eyes to close against his better judgement, to stray from the sight of Castiel no more than a few millimetres from here. There's a flash, the flutter of wings and he keeps his eyes tightly closed.

When he finally brings himself to open his eyes he's sat on the couch in Lisa's front room, he's clothed and the taste of his angel is still prominent in his mouth or he'd be thinking that it had all just been another dream. There's a hand on his shoulder, it's warm and strong and fits around the shoulder blade just so and he knows its Cas because no one is moulded to fit him as well as Castiel is.

"Goodbye Dean," he smiles at the hunter and it's warm and possessive and Dean smiles back because he knows he'll be back, when the hunter is back to his lowest and struggling to keep his head above water it'll be Cas that grips him tight and lifts him free.

There's a flutter of wings and the angel's gone, nothing left of his presence but a few curious bruises, a sound of wings and the addictive taste that lingers upon his lips.

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Ok so my first official DeanxCas and it may not be the best but I'm really working my way out of a really bad writers block that's been hanging over me since just before Christmas so I hope you like and are kind enough to leave some feedback, there may be more to come if people like this enough.

Thank you x