For Tumblr's SPN Prompt Thing- Color.
There was an old set of oil paints in a forgotten bedroom in the bunker.
It was one of those neat old fashioned wooden boxes that unfolded into a small easel. There were twelve tubes of paint, linseed oil, a small pallet, a handful of brushes, and about half a dozen little canvasses.
Surprisingly, the set was very much intact, most of the paint still viable for use, but Sam didn't paint, and neither did Dean, so neither one of them saw any reason to keep it. It ended up in the pile of trash by the bunker door, and neither brother thought about it again.
One ordinary Wednesday afternoon shortly thereafter, Dean announced he would be making the drive down to Salina to do some shopping that couldn't be done in the small towns surrounding Lebanon. Cas trailed behind him as he made his way around the bunker, observing silently as Dean got Sam's and Kevin's lists and made preparations to leave.
"Ok, what can I bring you?" Dean finally asked.
"Oh." Cas shuffled his feet. "I was hoping to go with you."
"Ok," Dean said easily, "grab your stuff. I'm ready to roll."
Cas complied quickly. It was nice to have someone along, and Dean was relieved it was Castiel. Cas wouldn't try to change his music or ask to stop at every farm stand along the way or talk non-stop, or in general, annoy the shit out of him.
It was a pleasant drive, the October weather mild, breezes ruffling the dried out prairie grasses along the way. Cas had his hand out the open window playing in the breeze, blue eyes scanning the horizon. He seemed to be drinking in the scenery.
He made a pretty picture, the wind ruffling the dark shock of hair on his head. Turning to Dean, he smiled slightly, then returned to looking out the window.
Dean sighed. He was so damn confused, the feelings he'd been having for Cas made him feel like he was on a damn merry-go-round. Up and down, around and around. It was starting to get ridiculous. He shouldn't be feeling this way about his best friend, especially when Cas's whole world, hell, his whole existence, had just been turned on it's head. He needed support, not a confused man making odd romantic gestures at him.
No, he was going to bury this and leave it buried. Besides, it's not like Cas would feel the same way.
About six hours later, they were finished with almost all of their shopping. Dean had to make one last stop, Walmart, and he was complaining loudly about it and how dangerous it was for the Impala, what with the hazards of shopping carts and careless old ladies.
He grumbled all the way into the store, and barely noticed as Cas mumbled about wanting to look at something. Dean was too busy perusing his list as he grabbed a cart, trying to decide the best part of the store to start in.
Making his way through the store, grabbing all the stuff on the list, including Sam's prissy conditioner, Dean half forgot Cas was with him. It was as he was passing the Arts and Crafts department en route to Electronics that he froze.
Cas was standing stock still, staring at the painting supplies. He was holding a single tube of red paint in his hands, a sorrowful look on his face.
"Cas?"
The other man jumped and fumbled the tube, then shoved it back on the shelf.
Dean frowned. "Did you want that paint, Cas?"
"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry, you just startled me." Cas turned away from the supplies. "Is it time to go?"
"Cas, did you want that paint?" Dean asked a little more forcefully. A subtle blush climbed Cas's cheeks.
"No, really, it's ok. I was just…just checking the price."
"You know, Sam and me found an old paint set last week. I woulda given it to you if I'd known you wanted to paint."
"Oh. Well. I um…I took it out of the trash. I've been using it." Cas's eyes were downcast, and he seemed ashamed.
"Well, that's great! Do you like painting?" Dean pushed the cart further into the aisle, closer to Cas and the display. "We can get you some stuff if you want. Are those paints we found ok? Are you out of red?" Dean starting grabbing items from the shelf, the tube of red paint, a small set of brushes. "Are there other colors you want? We can get some stuff, I have some extra money, and if you're painting, that's great man, that's a real hobby. It's awesome! What do you need?" Dean realized he was babbling rather enthusiastically, and he was pleased to see a slight smile on Cas's face.
"The paints were all fine. And there is plenty left. Just the red…the red wasn't…pure enough. I need a true red. And maybe a richer brown. The other colors I have been able to mix successfully." Cas put the brushes back. "And my brushes are fine. But I am out of canvasses."
"Ok, then we'll get some. In fact," Dean said thoughtfully, "let's leave all this crap here," he put back the red paint, ignoring how Cas's face fell, "and there's a store up the street a ways called Hobby Lobby. They sell all kinds of art supplies there. We can get you a nice easel and some bigger canvasses, and they'll have all kinds of paint." Cas's eyes lit up again, and Dean's heart swelled.
"That sounds wonderful."
"I mean it, Cas, whatever you want. Just help me grab the rest of the crap on this list and we'll go there."
"Ok." Cas looked at Dean, one of those trademark Cas looks that used to make Dean feel like squirming. "Thank you, Dean," he said quietly.
"Don't thank me yet. I want to see your work," Dean replied with a grin.
It was late when they got back to the bunker. Sam and Kevin helped them get everything inside, and mostly put away.
Cas took his bags from Hobby Lobby and headed for his room, Dean right behind him with the new easel.
Stopping just outside the room, Cas turned to Dean. "You must understand. I've never painted before. You might find my work…unsatisfactory." He actually looked a little bit nervous.
"I'll like anything you've done Cas. Trust me."
"Ok." He pushes the door open and holds it for Dean, who's struggling slightly with the overlarge easel. Cas flips on the light as Dean sets the easel down, and Dean stares in surprise.
Every available surface has a painting on it. The six little canvases are laying around, bright bursts of colors on some, dark shadowy images on others. There are paintings everywhere though, on things other than canvases.
There are cardboard boxes with paint covering every surface. Paper plates. Brown paper bags. Toilet paper rolls. Discarded pieces of wood.
And the wall over Cas's bed. It's amazing. There's dark blue, deep shadowy areas all along the edges. Black, curling through the painting like smoke. Deep red, bordering the bottom edge. Olive green along the top border. And in the very middle of the painting is a rather bright splotch of green and gold.
Dean stares and stares.
The painting isn't shapes, or figures, it's more like Cas painted an idea or a thought process.
And it's inexplicably beautiful.
"I ran out of paint. I found more, but there wasn't a true red. And I needed the red." He squeezes the tube of red onto his pallet and picks up a brush. Working quickly, Cas adds red to the center of the bright green and gold area, almost like a heart.
"There. Now it's done." Cas turns and smiles at Dean. "That's you."
"Wha…what?" Dean stutters.
"The green and gold. It's you. The bright spot in my falling. All of this," he indicates the darker areas of the painting with a wave of his hand, "is the confusion of falling, the misery, the bleakness, and this," he points to the bright spot again, "is you. The glow of your soul, the purity of your heart, the light in my darkness."
Dean's heart jumps into his throat as his jaw drops. Cas is saying these things, and he's so matter of fact. He can't stop staring at the painting, at the bright green and gold with the pure red heart. Dean's own heart is beating so fast, he's afraid he might have a heart attack right there, watching Cas carefully clean his brush and put things away.
"Are you ok? Or do you not like it?" Cas looks unhappy, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean registers that his silence is being read as disapproval, but he thinks Cas gets the idea when he crosses the room and presses their lips together.
"I love it," he says quietly, when they pull apart. "It's beautiful, Cas."
"You're beautiful. You saved me, Dean. You are saving me still. I wouldn't be able to handle this without you." Cas kisses him this time, a little deeper, a little longer, and this time when they pull apart, they're both flushed and smiling.
"Well, I guess we just saved each other."
"Yes, I guess we did."