I Want Out
All Dean could think of were the moments that had passed him by, most of them before they had even begun properly. It all started when he was only four years old, in his humble family home in Lawrence, Kansas. It was nothing he could have expected, that fire. The blaze that took away his mother, and his father's determination to find whatever (or whoever) it was that killed her. He couldn't help but think of how he was just a leaf in the wind, helpless and unable to change the direction he was heading in. His father was the wind, constantly dragging him and Sammy around, not allowing them to take root anywhere. He was just breath against the glass - there one minute, and faded before you knew it. In a masochistic way he enjoyed the life he'd been given. He felt as though he deserved what had happened to him, and that it was his fault that his mother passed away. Even though he was only four years old, he felt as though it was his job to protect her. She'd just given him the greatest gift in the world - his little brother, Sam. How did he repay her? He didn't.
These were all things that he thought about as he drove to a dive bar in Wyoming, on his way to get drunk and forget all of his regrets. Maybe he would hustle some pool, and earn some money to keep him and his seventeen year old brother. A blazing argument had occurred between Dean and John that night, about how he was never there to look after Sammy, and while Dean was off working in the local store John sat and did nothing but drink and expect them to train 24/7. He seemed to forget that his sons were still in school or working. Dean had grabbed Sammy's arm and dragged him out of the motel room they shared with their father, determined that it would be the last they saw of him. No matter how much Dean wanted to stay and look after his brother in the new motel room he had rented out, he knew that he had to get out and burn off some steam.
When Dean pulled up to the bar in his (once his dad's, which he will now never see again) nineteen-sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala, he parked perfectly and stopped the car. He didn't realise that he'd been breathing heavily until he switched off his heavy metal tape and stopped to listen to the silence. He lay his palms on the steering wheel and pressed his head against them, hearing only the sounds of his now less erratic breathing. Eventually, his breathing had lowered to its normal speed and he opened the door to the car, stepping out. The night air was colder than he remembered, and he would have regretted not bringing a jacket if it wasn't for the fact that he was only walking a few metres to the overly warm and crowded bar. Outside the bar, it looked like every other stereotypical dive in America. There were bikes parked out front and neon signs advertising the offers they had on beer.
He opened the door and entered, the stale stench of beer hitting him as soon as he walked in. As he looked around, he noticed two men drinking at the counter who must have been the owners of the motorcycles outside. Pulling out a chair at the opposite end of the bar to them, he sat down and looked around for the waitress. Thirty seconds later, a man ducked out from the kitchen with a plate of tortilla chips and settled them down in front of the men, then proceeded to take the money they paid for them. Dean was surprised, it wasn't often that dives had male bartenders, let alone ones as attractive as this one. He shrugged it off, and the man came over to take his order.
"One beer, please," was all he said to the man. He didn't speak to Dean, but his eyes bore into him as if they said a thousand words. As he bent down to pick up a pint glass, Dean looked the bartender over. He saw that the man had dark brown hair, and was quite small. Cute, in fact. And those eyes, those eyes that drank him in, they were an electric blue, the colour of a summer morning. Dean had to stop thinking about him as he returned, quickly hiding the blush he'd developed whilst admiring the man. Castiel, his name tag read.
"Will that be all?" He asked. His voice was gruff, but Dean found something oddly attractive about it. The man had a small smile on his face, one that he was sure he wore for each customer who walked into that dump.
"Uhm.. Y-Yeah, thanks." He stuttered, trying not to react to the way he enjoyed the sound of the man's voice. "W-Wait! I mean, what's your name?"
That was a bit of a stupid question to ask, Dean realised in hindsight, because he pointed to his name tag and said, "Exactly what the name tag, says. Castiel. But you can call me Cas for short," he grinned as he noticed the slightly older man had a small blush canvassing his cheekbones.
"Hey, Cas," he said. "What's your accent? I don't recognise it."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Cas chuckled. Dean was confused at this statement, but didn't press the matter further. "How about you?"
Dean laughed hard, "I have no idea, I've never been in one place long enough."
This sparked up a conversation about how Dean had spent his life on the road, and after five beers, he ended up spilling everything to Cas, minus the hunting.
"That's awful," he sympathised. "he shouldn't expect you do everything. You're his son for Dad's- I mean, for God's sake." Dean's eyebrows raised at what Cas said, but he blew it off as the man getting his words muddled up. After all, they were on the topic of his father.
"Tell me about it," Dean sighed. "Anyway, enough about me, what's your story?"
"There's nothing really interesting to tell you…" Cas admitted.
"I don't believe that for one second. Someone as interesting as you must have a story," he said, nonchalantly flirting with the other man. After that, Cas seemed to open up a little bit more, and he got the story that he can't remember where he was born, and he was adopted. He had a brother called Gabriel - his parents seemed to enjoy picking religious names for their children - and another called Michael, as well as one sister called Lucy. He even got a few embarrassing tales from when Cas was younger in elementary school where he'd slipped up on mud and ended up rolling down a hill, proceeding trying to kiss a girl he'd had a crush on who pushed him over. By the end of the night both men were in stitches of laughter, and many of the customers had left due to their orders being neglected because of the men's chatting.
When closing time came, Cas locked up the bar and stood up to say goodbye to Dean, when he pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and wrote his number down on a napkin. He passed the cloth to Dean, who pocketed it and said, "I wish tonight didn't have to end."
"Well," Cas said, "it doesn't yet, if you don't want it to." Dean's breath hitched as he pondered what Cas meant. Would he want to spend the night with someone he had just met? His conscience told him no, but since when did he ever listen to what his mind told him? He listened to his heart, and his intoxicated heart told him to pour every ounce of energy into being with this he knew what was happening, their lips were within touching distance and Cas gently pressed his mouth to Dean's. It took a second before Dean responded to the touch, but after that he fell quickly and deeper into the kiss. It was desperate and passionate, and they could feel the longing radiating off of the other, as if they'd both been wanting this to happen all night They pulled apart for a brief moment and looked at each other. Dean could see the burning in Cas' eyes and he couldn't deny that he needed more. His shockingly blue irises could burn down the sky and replace it without anybody noticing because they were so similar a colour. He couldn't resist pulling the other man in for a kiss again as he marveled in his beauty and the way he felt pressed up against him. In his head were pleasant thoughts at last, of how if this was love, then he wanted out of the life he had been living. He knew that he was going to make everything okay. Eventually their lips separated after a good few minutes of kissing, and they were both out of breath. Dean pressed his forehead against Cas' and held his waist.
"We should go somewhere else…"
Cas' breath caught as he said, "I agree."