Withdrawal, Dean decided, sucked from an outside look at it. He could
only imagine how Cas was handling it. This was only day one.
He could only watch and hope to God it wouldn't kill him.
The hospital had released Cas early the next morning, but not without
a handful of rehab clinic brochures in the state area. The entire ride
home had consisted of mocking said fliers, and a stop at In-N-Out
Burger because 'hospital food is shit, Dean.' Even though Cas hadn't
even eaten while he wa in there, he claimed a need to wipe off his
taste buds. So, meals and mockery aside, they had made their way home.
Though, Dean could only stay part of the day-the garage had allowed
him to take a half day for family emergency, but not a full day. So
Castiel had been left to his own devices, to purge the apartment of
his stashes by himself and Dean could do nothing more than kiss the
dark-haired man on the temple, wish him luck and tromp off to work.
He expected to come home to chaos.
What he came home to, was Cas trying to cook food for the entire
apartment complex. A stack of burgers neatly piled into a small
pyramid, two pies sitting on the counter to cool-as well as what
looked like lasagna and scalloped potatoes together in one strange,
starchy dish. Castiel stood at the counter, shaking slightly as he
chopped up what either could have been cole slaw or a very minced
salad, biting his lip in concentration.
"Cas..?" He wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. The
shorter man flinched and jumped, turning to look at Dean quickly
before back to his cutting board.
"Dean. Hi, um, hello." Scooping the shredded lettuce up, it was
quickly dumped into a bowl before reaching for the rest of the head.
"You should eat something. Before it goes bad."
Frowning, "You mean cold."
A sharp look was thrown at him, the hand on his knife tightened
marginally. "I meant what I said." He snapped back, looking utterly
livid. "Bad. They'll go bad, not cold. Enjoy them before they-before
everything goes bad." Pausing, Castiel flicked his eyes over Dean, but
his friend was only staring at the knife in his clenched hand. Rigid
stance, defensive. Like he thought, like...
The knife clattering to the floor startled Dean back into the present,
away from the knife. Cas was staring at him with wide eyes, shivering
and wrapping his arms around himself before tucking inside. Eyes
closed, head down. Hiding.
"Cas," He tried gently to call him, but the man just shook his head.
"Cas, look at me." This time he was ignored. Dean closed the distance
between them, slipping a hand beneath his chin and gently guiding his
head back up, blue eyes eventually finding his own. They were
frightened, sorrowful sapphires, so lost and needing guidance. It
occured somewhere in the back of Dean's mind that if Cas was reacting
this bad just half a day later, his addiction was worse than Dean
could ever understand.
"I would never- could never-" His eyes strayed down to where he knew
the knife had fallen, but refused to turn his head. Sky met land once
more. "Dean, I could never.."
"Cas, shut up." Quickly, Dean tugged the dark haired man to his chest,
enveloping him in a warm hug. Castiel melted into his embrace
willingly, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Mood swings,
symptom number one. Anxiety, symptom number two. Dean pressed a kiss
to the top of his head as Castiel mumbled something incoherant into
his neck. "I know, okay?That isn't you. Now, come on. Let's eat and
watch a movie. I'd hate for all this food to get cold."
"Bad." Cas automatically corrected, burying his face further into his
collarbone.
"No." Dean pulled away, surveying Cas with a critical eye. "Just cold,
not bad. Everything will be okay, Cas." He rested his forehead against
the other man's, watching as he closed his eyes and relished the
contact. "It's not going to go bad. I won't let it." Cas just shivere
in response, leaning further into Dean.
He sure hoped he was right. Threading his fingers through Cas' hair,
Dean closed his eyes and relaxed.
And this was only day one.
Later that night, or extremely early the next morning, however you'd
like to look at it-either way, 2 AM-Dean crept out of bed after
disentangling himself from the ominous Cas-topus and did something he
hadn't done since high school, and even then it was sparingly. He did
research.
Thank God for Google.
With the beginning edge of Castiel's withdrawal already taking a dive,
Dean had made it a quick priority to find out just what exactly he may
be dealing with. After searching a few sites, he finally came down
with a list of usual symptoms; anxiety, sweating, nausea, vomiting,
cramps, diarrhea, insomnia, muscle aches and pains, and restless legs
and muscle spasms. And it could last anywhere between a week or two. A
creeping sense of dread curled into his stomach, climbed and wrapped
around his heart. A week or two, and they had only breached day one?
Swallowing, Dean's fingers itched toward the back pocket of jeans
where 'his' flask always hid. Leaning forward, he tugged it free by
the slim neck and with a deft flick of his other hand had the small,
silver container opened and raised to his lips.
The alcohol tasted bitter with the distinct undercurrent of self
loathing. Of property that was never his, but now in his posession.
The catalyst in exposing him to the few loved ones he had left, and
yet he still continued to hang onto it like a tumor he couldn't get
excised.
There was a sudden fwump! of something falling in one of the back
bedrooms. Dean paused, listening before he heard the scrabble of
abused, thin carpet and a small voice called from the bedroom.
"Dean?"
Standing, Dean stretched and capped the flask, sighing as he shoved it
back into his pocket. Another vice for another day.
"Dean?" The voice calling him was more frantic now, shaken by some
unknowable force. Dean's eyebrows creased as he called back.
"Cas? Something wrong?" His roommate met him in the hallway, black
hair a tousled mess, blue eyes wide and rubbed red, his face pale as
ever. That only made Dean's nervousness rise to another new height.
"Cas? Earth to Castiel?"
"You're still here." Cas breathed out, shoulders slumping in one fell
movement like a marionette that lost the tautness of it's strings.
"Of course I'm still here, Cas, I-umph!" Cas attached himself back to
Dean's side, hugging him so tightly as if he might disappear the
moment he let go.
"Don't leave again, Dean. Please, please," He babbled, shivering.
Fingers slid against Dean's bare back, but it did nothing to his
senses like they had while trying to tire the man out earlier had.
"Dont leave. I love you. Please don't leave me again."
"I'm not-" Shivering, Dean shook his head. Those three words had
jammed all thought processes, and this was the absolute worst time for
it, when Cas needed him. "I'm not going anywhere. C'mon, you need
sleep. Talking in tongues."
"There's nothing wrong with my tongue." The shivering had lessened and
calmed after a moment, as Castiel slid his arms around Dean's neck in
a practiced manor. Like this position was practiced, methodical-they
did this all the time. And, looking back on it now, how often had they
been spending in one another's arms lately? "Carry me?"
"Only because your sick." Grousing good-naturedly, Dean leaned down
and gently tapped on Cas' thighs. The shorter man jumped up, wrapping
his legs around Dean's waist as he was caught. Yet another practiced,
fluid motion. He carried him back to his bedroom, one they'd been
sharing for a good week and a half now, something else Dean never
bothered to question. And he wouldn't now, either.
Laying Cas back on his side of the bed, Dean climbed into his side and
gathered the drying drug user to his side before he could move himself.
"Dont leave me, Dean." Cas murmured against Dean's bare shoulder.
"I won't. Get some sleep."
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
In the darkness, Cas couldn't see how Dean flinched. He couldn't see
how he wanted to jump out of the bed and run. He could feel Dean's
arms tighten around his waist, as he leaned forward to kiss him gently.
"Good night, Cas."
"Night, Dean.."
Castiel would sleep good that night. The rubbed raw red in his eyes
would fade. The next day would suck but be made tolerable.
Dean, however, didn't sleep a wink, too busy staring at the wall with
Cas sleeping in his arms as waking nightmares danced in his sight.