"Wise men say

only fools rush in,

but I can't help

falling in love

with you."

Teach Me How to Die and Live Again

Chapter seven

Castiel often sang in his bedroom, this was mentioned previously. He didn't know if it was the tune or the particular free breath of air that made him love to sing, but the best guess was that it's probably both. His lips cracked open and he hummed softly, a song he heard in the background of nothingness. His fingers felt numb, and everything disappeared. It's strange how at one point, he can feel so at war with himself, and yet, here is is. Singing quietly, hearing nothing but his own voice, and it's calming. He vaguely wishes for Dean to sing to him. How would he sound? Would his voice be deeper or higher or would it sound the same? Would it be rough or soupy or spoken? Castiel's voice was deeper, spoken and smooth. A fistful of sheets, he smiles and laughs, a strange sound, feeling like rocks on his tongue. Dean inspired that of him. He showed him things, provoked things of him he would have never otherwise experienced. It went to extremes: the first feelings disgusting and gross, stringy and broken, and suddenly now, as if none of that had happened, he felt uplifted. Dean must be magical, capable of wiping a slate clean.

"Wipe mine clean," Castiel sang inadvertently. "So I might one day rise up off my knees."

The words came out as a river may flow, and it came purposefully. And soon he had verses upon verses sitting on his lips. Eyes closed, he laid upon his bed, his hands tangled in his own hair. His feet were flat on the sheets. His room was spotless, save for a blue shirt in a lump under his bed. His eyes opened, not quickly and rashly, but slowly. His eyelashes lifted and his eyes, blue as the sky over the roof, over the clouds and beneath the sun, saw oblivion. His very being yearned for Dean, for his voice and for his presence, his smile. His lips were still moving, his voice still singing.

"Dear, why can't I be set free?

And of what, I daren't seek the answer,

just free;

I know that you can provide that for me.

You are dear to me, and you are free.

Help me to be free."

Because that's exactly what Dean was, he was free. Somehow he could do anything, be anything, smile like the sun and walk as if he owned it. But it was foolish, and Castiel knew this, it was foolish to feel love so early. Though maybe... He could try it? Elvis was the one who said only fools rush in, but damn it all, because this wasn't something that Castiel could hinder himself of. It was rushing through him, grand and great and it demanded to be paid attention to.

"Please," Castiel whispered, and he wasn't sure if it was part of the song or not.

"The sun is pretty."

"Yeah."

It was windy, too. It was nearly noon, and Castiel felt at ease as he sat on the heating concrete of the school's roof. Dean had brought him up there again. He rather liked it, at least a lot more than the cafeteria. His heart picked up a faster pace, a pace it liked to run while Dean was near. Castiel just couldn't stop himself from realizing how beautiful Dean was, truly. People use the word too lightly, because they use it when they're not describing Dean. Dean needs his own word, and Castiel will only ever call on thing beautiful, and that thing is Dean, objective or subjective, nothing can compare anymore. It's been nearly two weeks since they'd fallen into something akin to friendship, but always bleeding over that line. Dean was cautious and respective of Castiel's boundaries much like in a way that Gabriel was, but there was something different with Dean. There was always passion, desire, and restraint in Dean's eyes, a flinch of his hands, a twitch in his wrist as he pulled it back closer to his side.

Once, Castiel found himself yearning for the same, for Dean to reach over and touch his shoulder, his arm, cheek, his something. It was a longing that Castiel had never felt before, and he couldn't find himself longing for contact by anyone else. It was Dean's gentle hands, and his light laughter, it was Dean that Castiel needed like he needed air.

"I like yours better, Castiel mumbled and glared at the banana slices on his sandwich. He never had been able to stop Gabriel from putting weird things on it.

"My what?"

"When you gave me some of your sandwich the first time we were here," Castiel said, his voice softer in memory, but it hardened again as he added grumpily, "Gabriel puts things on mine when he insists on making it."

Dean laughed. Why did he laugh? But Castiel didn't really care. He wished he could hear it again and again.

Dean leaned over and took the sandwich from Castiel's hands and gave him his own partially-eaten peanut-and-jelly masterpiece.

Dean felt caged, honestly. To be so close to something so beautiful and yet they were untouchable, both literally and figuratively. There were days Dean would be so frustrated with everything he couldn't function. He couldn't see the color blue without thinking of Castiel. He'd gotten too deep involved with someone he could never have, and it hurt. Castiel would be forever content with being a whole mile away from Dean's affections, from his heart, and Dean couldn't imagine anything that could kill him more. Every step nearer wasn't near enough. His insides were ice these days, and he wished for a chain to keep himself at arms-length away easier than he had to wretch himself from the angel in front of him.

It's wasn't right. He shouldn't be pining. It was indescribably stupid. Yet... Here he was. Gazing upon Castiel, eyes brighter now that he had Dean's sandwich rather than his own. He would have given anything to just stay away, but at the same time he would fight anything, kill for anything that tried to take Castiel away from him now. He could never survive anymore, he lived through this beautiful man that had stolen something Dean thought he'd guarded so carefully.

There Castiel was, with Dean heart down his throat, left unseen, now, because Castiel probably didn't know how badly Dean had let himself fall.

The lovers drifted nearer, but as opposite poles, pushed apart before they could get too close.

But he had kissed me, Dean remembered vaguely. It felt like a dream as far away as it was now, and he couldn't stand the thought that Castiel did that just to fuck with him. It couldn't have been.

"Why did you kiss me?" Dean couldn't censor his question, high and hard in his throat.

Castiel seemed startled, eyes wide and a puffy cheek of Dean's sandwich. He swallowed and his eyes never drew away from Dean's. It was that Castiel-look, how his eyes took Dean's and just held them. Never let them go. Ever. It was insane, intense, and Dean was getting better at keeping his gaze. He didn't know if it was a test that Castiel had put up or a defense mechanism.

"I don't understand," is what Castiel said eventually, and Dean wanted to scream.

He nearly let it go, he wanted to, but his heart grabbed his throat and forced it to speak. "When I drove you home that day. You kissed me."

And there it was: Castiel's eyes dropped from Dean's. "I don't know," he murmured. "I just... I wanted to. You were just there and- I don't know."

Honestly, it would have been kinder to send an arrow through his chest. "So if that had been anyone else driving you home, you would have kissed them? It was just a 'Oh I feel like kissing someone right now' type of thing?" He couldn't help the anger the fell sinfully from his last word. He couldn't comprehend himself just how torturous it was that Castiel had seen Dean as something to use.

"No!" Castiel shouted just at the end of Dean's last word, and Dean's eyes snapped back up. "I- It was because it was you. I would never- I don't know!"

Castiel seemed to shut down, a board built up between both of them. Silence rained down from the sky and swallowed them whole, and Dean fought the urge to just speak his mind. It was the first time since he could remember that he felt so cautious, so scared of doing the wrong thing; in his hands he held this fragile thing he loved too much to screw up- and it drove Dean crazy because the more he said it, the more he believed it. He loved Castiel, enough to drive him insane.

"Would you ever want to do it again?" Dean's lips mouthed, his voice barely working, and yet over the wind around them Castiel could hear him.

In response,Castiel leaned over, and Dean held his breath. He drew nearer and nearer, his eyes piercing and searching, never looking away, as if he needed some assurance of who Dean was. In any other kiss Dean's eyes would have closed, but not with Cas. Their eyes stayed open, even if in the slightest. Their noses brushed, and Dean's heart raced, like he was a kid again with his first crush.

"Yes," Castiel breathed, and Dean felt the words on his lips as they touched Castiel's.

Castiel kissed in the most subtle way, with hardly any movement. Their lips stayed pressed together for a few moments before Dean tilted his head slightly, nose squishing against Castiel's cheek, and took Castiel's breath into his own lungs. It was as if they were learning together, as if Castiel had never been kissed before and neither had Dean. Chastity fell between them and, slowly, they made their way through something safe together. Whatever boundary that they forced down between them was gone forever, at least for Dean, he couldn't go back after this. He needed Cas. Needed him like he needed air. Castiel's breath hitched and for a terrifying moment Dean thought he was going to have another panic attack, but Castiel pressed closer, not with his body, but with his mind. It was like Dean could feel every inch of him.

As Dean pulled backwards Castiel pushed forward, and Dean gasped as Castiel stole one last kiss before he allowed an inch between their lips. Castiel's eyes still had not closed, but they were less wide than they had been. Dean's eyes flickered down his face, settled on his red, a-bit-puffier, stayed like that, exchanging breaths, close and more intimate than any one-night-stand Dean had ever done.

"Hey," his voice wasn't loud, wasn't even a voice as much as it was a breath. "Will you be my lover? Please?"

"Like your boyfriend?" Castiel's voice was softer.

Dean's lips pushed upwards and he laughed quietly. He didn't know why he laughed.

"Yeah," he whispered, "That."

"I can kiss you a lot more when I'm your boyfriend," Castiel voiced.

"You're not wrong," Dean laughed, voice quiet, "I'll bribe you. A kiss a day."

Castiel was somehow leaning closer, as if they weren't already close enough. "Two."

"Two," Dean repeated.

"Then okay," Castiel said so quietly, and yet Dean could hear him; both sandwiches left unfinished by their sides as they shared another kiss.

As said over and over once more, Castiel didn't know what love was, but he'd imagine it's something like this. Nearly immediately Castiel had explained to Dean he didn't like to be physically touched other than in a few ways, and Castiel had to touch Dean first if Dean were to touch him. Dean had listened carefully and understood, he didn't seem to be put out about it, almost like he expected it. He could still tell Dean was disappointed that he couldn't kiss Castiel first, but he didn't say anything about it. They fell into something familiar, and it filled Castiel up to the brim with happiness.

Castiel never imagined he could have something like this. After seeing countless couples around school and around the world, he never stopped to acknowledge it was something he could have, too. Castiel's favorite moments became the car rides home with Dean and meeting Dean on the roof for lunch. Admittedly, they had skipped fourth period a few times because they got too caught up in each other. Charlie always kept Castiel caught up, though. Dean turned out to be something akin to medicine for an illness Castiel had never properly made notice of before. Slowly he was becoming better, less panic attacks about being around too many people, less weights in his chest during each moment of the day.

Dean and Castiel came up with a little code word for if Dean does anything that triggers Castiel, "Endless." It came up one day when Dean had jokingly said, "You know you love me."

After a few moments of silence, allowing Castiel to keep himself from falling too deep into anxiety, Dean asked, "Which part was it?" with something Castiel couldn't quite recognize in his voice.

"'Love me,'" Castiel had replied quietly.

The subject changed quickly, and that's how it always was. If anything in the world, Dean would give anything to go back and save Castiel from his past. Somehow. But here, now, they couldn't look back at what they couldn't change. Though the aftermath is still present, nothing can be changed, so Dean just does his best to help Castiel where he can.

"I love you," Dean whispered, and his eyes searched Castiel's for any sign of rejection.

Castiel put the palm of his hand on Dean's chest and leaned forward, slowly, it was always slowly, with no break in eye contact.

"I love you, too," it was something his father had never said to him, and something he hadn't dared utter until now.

A/N: Thank you for readinggg! I actually think this might be the end. I had more planned, (well really just a few events that happen a while later) but this seems like an ending? I don't really know for now it's complete and if I'm inspired I miiight write more. BTW I changed the title to fit the story more. Reviews are always welcome of course I hope you enjoyed!