Midnight Man
Dean wasn't a man easily frightened or even intimidated.
Living in Kansas, caring alone for your little brother while your dad was doing business God knows where, had toughened him up, molded him strong.
He'd had a fair share of bar fights, a stab wound or two, seen people on the streets in the most ungodly acts, hung out with people of said streets, lost friends and lovers, came, saw and conquered every imaginable obstacle in life.
Knowing the given facts about himself, being afraid at this moment really didn't make sense.
Sure, the garage looked like a rundown warehouse, but every garage looks dirty and forgotten. If it doesn't, then somebody's doing something wrong there.
Maybe it had something to do with this particular, never-before heard of part of Louisiana. Dean had spent a good hour driving around the road, lost and frustrated with a map spread wide in his lap. He took pride in knowing his country, took pride in his instinct for finding places and roads. He was surprised and a little mad at himself for getting lost. The map honestly didn't make sense, all those scribbled, crossed lines pointing to little red dots nowhere near his destination.
He could have gone to Texas, could have found a steady job. He'd always wanted to settle down there, kinda like a wistful cowboy dream he'd had since always.
Just him, his Impala, a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack, sunglasses over his eyes, burning sun as he works in some bar or garage, let loose in the night, go back to a bachelor's apartment. Living the life, eh?
But no, trust Bobby to ruin a young boy's dream.
'Go to Louisiana boy, there's a small town there with a good friend of mine, he needs help with his garage, you'll get a paycheck and he'll keep you clean.'
Like he needs help keeping clean.
He's not fifteen anymore, he can hold his own.
He's a grown man, twenty-six at that, and if booze and sex is what he aims for then so be it.
'Sam is growing up, Dean. He's in college now and you can't hold him back, not after how hard you worked to get him there. Get yourself straightened up, fresh air and hard work'll do ya good.'
Fresh air his balls.
He stood before the Impala, shivering into the cold night, his breath coming in visible white puffs.
The whole place had a sinister look to it. The garage was nestled in the middle of the lone highway, surrounded by a wild bundle of wintergreen trees, reaching high into the sky and far into the land.
Who the fuck builds a garage in the middle of the forest?
A sharp wave of ice cold wind grazed his nose. He pulled his father's jacket tighter around his shaking frame, burying his face as best as he could in its lapels.
As soon as the wind started to sound like voices to him, Dean decided that the long drive, nicotine and coldness took its tool on him and it was time to face the music.
He walked across the gravel path, the scrunch of stone against his boots echoed around the silence of the forest. The sound of a tire falling down had him on alert.
Everything felt a little too much like a Twilight Zone episode.
He was just waiting for a creepy puppet to start steering his head at him.
He cautiously (although unnecessarily), stepped around the garage to a light behind it.
The light came from a small house a few feet away from it.
The house too looked unkempt, much like Bobby's cabin of a home.
Inside probably awaited a grisly looking guy, just like him. But with longer beard and a crazed look in his eye. He'd even have a bear's head hung on his wall somewhere.
He trudged closer, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He carefully climbed up the small porch where a plastic lounge chair covered with a dark, green, wool blanket was seated under a dim bulb, little fleas gathered around it.
Well, here it goes.
He searched shortly for a bell, and settled for knocking.
He felt more anxious than ever.
He didn't know if he just wanted the man to open the freakin' door, or just run to his car, drive away and never look back.
This place spelled trouble, and Dean always found a way to it.
Finally, he heard a shuffle of feet, a few clinking noises which must have been keys turning, and just when he'd thought he'd been off the hook, it turned out the man just opened his fly screen door.
And even though his vision was fuzzy from the glass pane over the wooden door he could see the man that was to be his new boss.
Definitely wasn't expecting that.
The man stood silent, eyes unblinking as he stared right back at Dean, a passive expression of warning on his stone cold face.
"Yes?" –The man finally spoke, voice deep and gravely, like he'd just gotten out of bed.
"Ah, I'm Dean. Bobby sent me. To work."- Dean mumbled quickly, remembering where he was and what his cause was.
The sound of crickets was the only noise for a while as the man continued to stare.
"Aren't you gonna, let me in? Or something? I just got here, man, I'm not- I have no idea where to go..." –This definitely wasn't how it was supposed to go. Guy was supposed to be a big lumberjack and then smile and laugh when he'd hear Bobby's name, welcome him in, seat him down for a beer and tell him stories of all the wolves he's killed.
Not stare at him like the freakin' 'Children Of The Corn'.
As the man moved to open the door, Dean yelped at the movement. It was like watching a stone statue suddenly begin to walk.
The guy didn't react to Dean's obvious embarrassment and held open the door with a step to the side, implying he were to come in.
Dean opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to speak, and just settled for brushing his shoes on the bland door mat that said 'Wipe Your Paws' with little paw prints next to it. Cute.
He stepped into the narrow hallway of the door being careful to avoid the steel gaze of his future boss.
"So, uh, take my boots off?" –He finally picked up the courage to turn to the man, and just then realized the necessity for personal space.
Because if the guy had a hard gaze before, this was unreal.
Seeing much clearer without the obstruction of glass, he could give the guy a good once-over.
The man wore a white tank top, revealing bruised muscles over his arms that left a question. He had a scrawny look about him, but his presence felt much bigger and powerful. He was clearly unshaven, days worth of stubble, hair a messy disarray, stained and ripped sweatpants over bare feet. Without that rough edge, Dean was sure the guy would look more fitting in an office suit, typing away in a cubicle.
But, what stood him out the most were his eyes.
Blue, like a Siberian husky, clear and guarded.
Again the guy didn't talk, just nodded with a slight incline, his eyes never dropping from his own.
Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidating as hell.
He bent down awkwardly, almost bumping his head against the man's knee. His jaw twitched with the need to yell at the guy, ask him if he can actually see with his eyes or just keeps on staring for the hell of it, but, he kept him mouth shut.
He needed to remember he had no place to go, it was already deep night, he hadn't gotten any sleep and there was no way he was sleeping in his car in the midst of a town notorious for its wildlife.
He unlaced his boots as quickly as he could, straightened up to chuck them off, casting his eyes in question towards the other man.
Again, silent guy just nodded his head to follow him and continued his way down the narrow hall, past what Dean saw was a small kitchen, and straight to something akin to a living room.
Dean had to admit it felt cozy, in a cabin sort of way.
There was a beat up rug that might have been cream a long time ago, with weird patterns of yellow, brown and green. At the far wall, under a small window, sat a reddish brown couch with a chucked out piece at the arm, revealing yellow foam. In front of it was placed a round coffee table, a book downturned over it, the words 'Anastasia' stood out on the cover, some playing cards scattered around, an empty mug of what must have been coffee and a full ashtray next to it.
Dean looked around himself admiring the room, while the guy gestured with his hand to sit on the couch. He had his eyes on the big bookshelf that seemed to dominate the room, filled to the brim with books.
He sat himself gingerly, still not at ease, feeling the couch practically swallow him, giving a sharp squeak as he felt the strings pressure.
Silent guy gave him a sharp look before he turned his attention to the slowly dwindling flames in the fireplace, grabbing a poker to stir the wood until it gave a spark.
Finally, he took a place on the wooden armchair across from Dean, laid his arms on the armrests and just, stared.
And he kept on staring.
Dean finally couldn't keep up and decided to break the uncomfortable silence.
"So, uh, you have a dog?" –He tried for a safe topic, and that was the only thing on the top of his head.
"What makes you think that?" –He speaks! Praised be his vocal chords!
"Ah, your doormat. With the paws and everything." –Dean made a weak hand gesture as he explained himself.
"You're very observant, aren't you?" –The guy said without a hint of a smile, his face still stone cold. He didn't know if he was mocked or anything, guy didn't give any tips through his voice or facial expressions.
"So, do you?" –The awkwardness of the situation was basically palpable, hanging heavy in the air between the two men.
"Yes, I do." –The guy wasn't even trying, and Dean was giving his all to make conversation. Just, wasn't fair.
"Breed? Name?" –Dean was giving up by this point.
"Rottweiler. Dylan." –Silent guy said with a slight tone of pride in his voice, and he probably wouldn't have noticed it if he weren't so tuned in with every slight movement he made.
"And your name?" –Dean asked with a small smile, trying to show this guy that he was willing to play nice.
"Castiel." –Weird ass name. But eh, everything about the guy was weird, his name was his least problem.
"Ok, Castiel. Name's Dean." –He said with an offered hand, opting to not give any comment that might shake the careful balance he was building here.
Castiel eyed his hand, no indication on his feelings on the matter, instead he arched forward in his chair to return the gesture, giving him a strong grip in a firm handshake. They were getting somewhere here.
"So, uh, what are we doing here? How is this gonna work?" –Dean spoke after another silent pause, disturbed only be the unnerving ticking of a clock somewhere near.
"First, you will not be staying here." –Castiel spoke, resting his forearms on his knees.
"I will drive you to a cabin I used to use, ten minute drive from here. You will come to work, starting tomorrow, at seven AM sharp. The rent you will be paying me I will deduct from your paycheck." –The man finished with a satisfactory nod of his head, as if this is really, honestly all there is to it.
"And, that's all?" –Dean spread his hands in a gesture of 'come on, man'.
"Right now, it is." –Castiel said in a self-explanatory way.
Ok, ok, if this is how he liked to play so be it. Dean can be cold and distant too.
"So, we're going?" –Dean stood from his seat, mimicking the passive expression on the other man's face.
Dean felt an odd sense of triumph at the raised eyebrows he received. Suck on that, boss-man.
"Suppose we are." –Castiel said whilst taking a stand himself, leading the way outside.
-/-
"No way are you driving my car." –Dean said with an exaggerated tone of warning. Seems he wasn't really good at keeping the passive role.
"I'm the only one who knows the way to the cabin, and I know how to drive on these roads better than you. Don't underestimate me."- And that's the most words Castiel had uttered in the entire time they spent in each others presence. Because the word 'together' would be misused, as while Dean was trying to make conversation, Castiel seemed to be on a whole different planet.
"No, don't underestimate me. I've been in charge of this baby for most of my life, and I don't let anyone, not just you, I mean anyone drive her." –Dean knew this was a bad idea, getting in a fight with your boss, on what was, basically your interview, but screw it. Nobody will stand in the way of him and baby.
"Most of your life, which is, approximately sixteen years, judging by the way you are referring to the car by gender." –Castiel said ever calmly, though his frown seemed to deepen.
"Can't you just, take your car and drive ahead, while I follow?" –Why Dean hadn't thought of this before was lost on him. How was the guy even supposed to get back without a car, was also lost.
Castiel's jaw clenched, and even in the darkness of the night he could see it. He couldn't put two and two together, everything that was Castiel, was one messy bundle of crazy.
Instead he turned on mute again and just nodded, making his way to the garage.
-/-
Fuck, this was gonna be awful.
Dean made his way out of the car, and really, that was no cabin. It was a freakin' shed. For chickens.
The whole wooden structure looked like it would turn to dust in a single touch.
"Dude, seriously?" –Dean turned to his boss with a pleading tone to his voice.
"You have a bed, a kitchen and bathroom. You have water and electricity. You don't need for more." –Castiel said with a stilted voice and turned back to his truck, leaving Dean with his mouth hung open, ready to drop the swear-bomb.
In the end, as Castiel's truck trailed off, he gave a defeated sigh and went to his from-now-on home.
-/-
His first day in the 'chicken coop', because there was not a more elegant way to put it, was, mildly said, dreadful.
He spent the entire night twisting and turning in his bed, gripping the sheets and punching the pillow to make himself comfortable. Everything was just so stiff, and rough, worse than a motel room, and he'd been in enough to speak the truth. The wool of the blankets scratched his skin, but when he tried sleeping without them, the cold seemed to bide at his body.
He tried rummaging through the small kitchen in search of food, to settle his frustration, but all he found was a can of beans and molded bread.
He ended up outside, sitting on the step in front of his door, smoking away a whole pack as he waited for dawn. The night passed with cold, whistling wind and howling wolves throughout the woods.
There were no snarling animals, no sounds of quick movement through the bushes, only the lonely howling.
Finally, as the sun broke and Dean checked his phone for the time ( he was going to need to charge his battery), he decided it was time to go, maybe finally get to talk to Castiel or his co-workers, ask what's there to do in this town.
-/-
As he pulled over, he saw that three men were already sitting in front of the garage, two of them on green, camping chairs and one on a tire.
He walked over to them and felt the uncomfortable feeling of having all eyes on you. Still, he tried smiling approachably, and when he saw they were actually brewing coffee his smile turned real.
"Hey. Name's Dean." –He said with a smile and offered his hand to the man in front of him in the little circle they had formed.
"Chuck." –The squirrely dude said with a slight tremble in his shaking hand that Dean gripped.
"Ash" –The guy on the tire said with confidence as he too took his hand, and really, how can you sound so self-important with a mullet?
"Adam." –The kid looked young, like just-attended-prom young. And really, only sixteen year olds can sound that pissy when meeting someone.
"Nice meeting ya."- Dean said with a somewhat lost smile, unsure of his next step.
"Grab him a seat, Ash." –Chuck's words were all it took to break the ice.
"So, how did you even get the job? I mean, it's not like Cas put ads in the papers, or something." –Adam spoke after a while of sitting together, drinking coffee and chatting.
Kid was nice. Cautious, but nice.
"Ah, Bobby, a friend of my dad's got me here. Little brother went to college, dad off to work, and, I guess I went a little wild."- He felt at ease speaking with these men, letting a morose chuckle escape through his lips. " Sent me here to calm down, something like that." –He finished with a little nod.
"I swear, Cas just picks up strays on purpose. Ya didn't even bring a resume, did ya?" – Ash gave an exaggerated sigh, giving the other men a look like it was an inside joke.
"No, I didn't." –Dean spoke with a quizzical look. He wasn't getting the 'strays' part.
"Cas, uh, he hired us, kn-knowing we had problems. Have problems..."- Chuck said with a slight twitch, taking a big gulp of his coffee.
"Ex-con." –Ash said with a pointed finger at his chest.
"Ex-drunk." –He turned the finger at Chuck, who seemed to spasm at the uttered word.
"High school drop-out." –He ended with Adam who glared at him over his steaming cup.
"Well, uh, we got something in common there, Adam." –Dean tried covering his surprise with a joke, not wanting to make the men uncomfortable with his bafflement.
Adam gave a slight twitch of a smile, which set Dean at ease.
The guys seemed to approve of the way Dean handled the new information, at which Ash continued speaking.
"I used to copy some government documents, hacked their websites, e-mails and what-not. Found a couple'a nudes too! But, got caught, found my IP address, even though I used like, a thousand proxies, and eh, rest is history." –Ash spoke with a tone of sadness, like he went back in time to a place long-forgotten, or at least tried to keep it that way.
"Served my time, and came here, get away from old memories. Found Cas, was honest about everything, and he just, he didn't comment on anything. Just asked me if I'm still going about it, said fuck no, and gave me the job. Easy as that." –Ash finished with raised eyebrows, implying he found his own story unbelievable.
Dean responded in kind, his surprise evident in his own expression.
"I came here to write. After I-I divorced. It was... A tough time for me. Found this place and came to apply. Cas, he, he immediately knew something was wrong with me. I tried denying it, but, you can't hide from, Cas, man." –Chuck said with a tone of disgust, like the mere idea to lie to Cas ( Dean still found the way they seemed to use a nickname for their boss weird) insulted him personally.
"I admitted I was an... alcoholic. He told me as long as I came sober to work, no hangover either, he would take me. Haven't touched a drop since then." –Chuck finished with a small smile of pride, which made Dean smile fully. He couldn't help but feel glad for the complete stranger he was growing fond of.
"Adam's a daddy's boy." –Ash said with a laugh, prompting Adam to give his own side.
"Shut up, Ash." –Again, the boy glared daggers into the other man.
"It's cool, if you don't wanna talk." –Dean tried giving the boy the exit. If he didn't want to talk, he shouldn't. Dean was just glad that he could make friends with these people, who were open about their troubles and experience to him.
Adam gave Dean a look of thanks, a small smile of relief to go with it.
"So, Dean! Now that we've established you're cool, you have the right and privilege to refer to me as Doctor Badass." –Ash said with a tone of accomplishment, like he'd just gave a speech in the White House.
"Yeah, not gonna happen, Mullet." –Dean shook his head with a laugh.
"I like him." –Chuck said with a smile towards Ash, who just stared dumbfounded at Dean, like it was utterly unacceptable to decline his offer.
Just as Ash and Chuck started bickering, while Adam and Dean watched with amusement, a door slam was heard.
All the men stopped to turn their attention to the house behind.
Castiel walked out, passing the stairs in a hurry and towards his truck. He did look a bit more polished than last night. That is, as polished as a garage-running boss, can look. He wore a simple white t-shirt with jeans and working boots.
"Hey, Cas!" –Ash, ever cheerful, yelled from where they were all sitting, waving a hand with a smile towards the other man.
Castiel's head arched up from where it was concentrated on a ring of keys, giving everyone a look over, and settled his eyes over Dean. He couldn't explain that rush that ran through him at the eye contact.
Castiel quickly averted his eyes and set them on Ash.
"Get to work, slackers!" –He shouted, his voice demanding, but a good natured smile appeared, just as he got into his car.
Everyone waved him off as he steered away from the garage and onto the road.
Dean still couldn't wrap his mind around him. His experience from last night told him that this guy was nothing better than an asshole, though he couldn't voice this to the men. The way they spoke of him was full of awe and gratitude. He couldn't get how this man could make such a good impression on them, whereas he left Dean feeling like a jackass.
"Any input on Cas, guys? I mean, I didn't really get to talk to him last night. I just got here." –Dean quickly tried to cover for himself. He was curious, and he wanted more about this guy, without letting on his bad opinion about him.
"Cas is great, man. Great boss, all around great guy." –Ash nodded his head along his words, lighting up a cigarette in the process.
"He seemed kinda cold to me." –Dean spoke quietly, grabbing himself a cigarette from his dwindling pack. He was going to have to find a shop somewhere around here. Soon.
"He's very private about his life. He might seem distant, but, he's been very good to all of us." –Chuck said with a nod to Ash in agreement. The guys spoke of him like some demi-God , or something.
"Wife, kids?" –He knew he was pushing it, but he also knew he wasn't going to be getting any answers from the man himself.
"Nada. There was this one woman, years ago, and a guy after that. Haven't seen anyone after them." –Ash was the one to speak once again, puffing the smoke through his nostrils, at which he was given a disgusted look by Chuck.
Ah, well this was interesting news.
"So, he's bi?" –Dean quipped, the smoke gushing out through his words.
"Man, I don't even know if he's sexual. After her, he was just... It was awful, man." –Ash's brows furrowed in defiance.
"Ash."- Adam directed with warning.
"He's ok, Adam. I mean, you're not gonna be an asshole about this, D-Dean?" –Chuck asked with a slight tone of hope in his voice, like he wanted to trust Dean.
"Hey, I'm nobody to judge. Fooled around with women, men and have a whole record of bad relationships. 'M not a hypocrite." –And it was true. It was funny how easy it was to voice these things to these men, when he'd had so much trouble just admitting them to himself.
"He's cool." –Ash said with a nod to Adam, like they were trying to convince him. Adam just shook his head, but kept quiet as Ash started speaking again.
"So, this woman, her name was Amelia. Guy wasn't the problem, we've only seen him like, once or twice, and then he just disappeared. No biggie. So, Amelia. Real pretty girl, blond hair, all modest and kind. You could tell just by the way he looked at her, he was whipped." –The men chuckled, but ended with a sorrowful note.
"They were together for two years, I think. Cas was real open about her, all smiles and hearts in his eyes when he talked about her. It was, really, the only time Cas was actually open about himself. We all supported them, thought they were great for each other." –Chuck nodded along with a grimace, while Adam gave a snort.
"Then, one night, we were all working here, stuck on this stupid Yugo that hadn't run a mile in a decade... And, from the back we hear shouting and then some smashing, and when we turn to Cas' house, the door slams open, Amelia walks out, yelling and shouting, I hear the words 'freak' and 'sinner', and then, she fucking spits at him! She fucking spit at him! And it's then I see Cas, and he's just standing by the door, and he takes it, man... I'll never forget that... He just, stood, and stared. He wasn't crying, wasn't yelling, wasn't even... I don't know. He had this blank expression on, and when she spit at him, he-he didn't even blink! He stood there, taking it all like he freakin' deserved it..." –Ash made a stop, gulping a big breath of air whilst running a hand over his face.
"I, swear, I have never hit a woman. And to this day I don't know what happened there. But, I do know, for a fuckin' fact, that Cas has never hurt anyone, and he treated Amelia like a goddamn princess! Whatever he did, shared some fuckin' kink or asked for a threesome, I don't know! I know, whatever he did, he didn't deserve the-the stoning he got! And, I was ready, man, blood was rushing, and I was up in a second. And then, Cas just raises his hand in my direction, like 'stop', and he doesn't even look at me. Amelia walks off, takes her car, cussin' him all the way, and storms off. And Cas just walked back in..." –Ash finished with another sigh, his eyes gripped shut at the flooding memories.
"It was the scariest shit I ever saw..." –Adam added through the tense silence that followed.
"I still can't forget it. Cas is... He never de-de-deserved that." –Chuck seemed to be shaking more than before, his eyes wide in horror.
Dean listened in with his brows furrowed, overwhelmed with everything he just heard. He didn't know what to say, what to offer to the grieving friends of his boss.
So, Cas had a bad experience. Scratch that. Awful, traumatizing experience, that even managed to reach to Dean.
He felt rattled by the whole story. Didn't even know what to think of the whole ordeal.
"Fuck her." –The words dropped out of his mouth without a thought.
All eyes turned to give him a startled look.
"Told ya he was cool!" –Ash exclaimed through the stilted silence, and once again everything fell into the little routine of bickering and joking.
-/-
Well into the workday, he got the hang of it.
This was the only garage in their town, so business was actually good. People came with little beat up cars, asked for the most mundane repairs that could be done at home, with freakin' duct tape, but hell, if money was coming then he was working.
They were the only employees, which suited them all well. Chuck also worked the cash register, and Cas did his own accounting.
Dean was currently tuning up a carburetor, lost in the easiness of the job, his fingers trained on the movement, while his mind was elsewhere.
He figured out the 'cold shoulder' thing was Castiel's defense system. He didn't want to get close, and Dean understood that. He didn't want to put himself in the position to get let down by a complete stranger. He didn't want to show him kindness.
So, Dean figured, he was the one that was going to have to gain his trust.
He was the one that was going to put the effort, here.
And, honestly, he found he didn't mind it. In fact, he saw it as a challenge.
"Hey, uh, Dean?" –Adam startled him out of his daze. He turned his attention to the boy, seeing his hands smeared with grease where they fiddled nervously with a wash cloth.
"Yeah?" – He prompted, but Adam seemed to be doubting himself so he tried again.
"Something on your mind?" –He honestly liked the kid. Reminded him of himself in his teens.
"My dad left me. After mom died, he just, couldn't handle me. Got me to Cas and dumped me here. And uh, Cas' making me get a GPA... So, I just thought, I'd share, you know..." –Adam trailed off uncertainly, casting his eyes around the cluttered room.
"I can help you get that GPA." –Dean offered with a smile, gripping the boy's shoulder in assurance.
The hopeful smile that blossomed on Adam's face was answer enough.
-/-
Dean was getting ready to leave for the day. The guys gave him some directions to the nearest shops, nearest liquor store, and even a Wall Mart. Dean was ready to start his car and buy himself a whole store. Or a mall, maybe.
Just as he was reaching for his car, he heard quick shuffling growing nearer and nearer.
Before he could turn to see what was in such a hurry, he was struck against his car by a pair of paws.
He looked down to see a dark Rottweiler wagging its tail in excitement, muzzle open in gulping breaths, tongue stuck out, as he smelled him and flapped its paws over his chest. Damn, Dylan was big.
"Hey, hey, buddy, settle down." –Dean laughed as the dog just wouldn't give up until it was certain he had smelled Dean through.
He cautiously put a hand on the dog's head, and was surprised when it pushed upwards into the touch.
"You're a good boy, arent'cha?" –Dean let a rumble of laughter as he stroked and petted through Dylan's fur. The dog's excitement didn't settle, but he let go of Dean's chest and instead went to circle around him.
He crouched down to play with him, feeling amusement rush through his body. He always liked dogs, always wanted to have one. But eh, life on the road wasn't ideal for having a pet.
Just as the dog had rolled onto his back for Dean to scratch at its belly, another shuffle of feet was heard.
Dylan immediately turned on it's legs, running towards the sound.
Dean looked up to see Castiel, arms full of paper bags as he exited his truck. The dog jumped him and it was a miracle he kept a hold on the groceries.
Dean smiled fully at the sight before him, seeing Castiel stagger as Dylan pushed into his personal space, his cold façade broken as he yelped.
Dean shook his head with a laugh and went to his boss.
"He's a handful, huh?" –He said with a smirk as he cautiously took the bags from Castiel's arms, careful to not squish Dylan between them.
He left for the house without waiting for an answer, leaving Castiel to deal with Dylan.
He put the groceries on the porch by the door, watching as Castiel petted his dog, which kept on trying to lick his face. He felt a strange ache in his heart as he watched him smile and laugh through Dylan's antics.
He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't keep the knowledge of Castiel's disastrous break up out of his head. Even as he watched him so seemingly cheerful, Dean still felt grief.
He wasn't meant to know that about him. Castiel hadn't told him himself, and he most certainly would be angry if he knew what Dean knew.
He didn't want the burden of knowing something so personal about his seemingly cold-hearted boss, that once loved so dearly and got crushed.
He wanted to be angry again. He wanted to hate him, bitch at him for being an asshole, call him out on his behavior.
But, when Dylan finally let go of his owner, Castiel turned his track towards the house, eyes trained on Dean and he couldn't help but smile.
He looked good.
A little sunburnt, sweat shining on his forehead, chapped lips huffing for breath, sweat stains under his arms. He looked raw. Male. A working man.
"Dylan's fun. He's a good dog." –Dean offered as he came to stand up from the lounge chair he'd been resting on.
"That he is." –Castiel murmured in a deadpan voice.
Dean sighed internally. He was at it again. No emotions, no nothing.
"It's been fun today. Working, getting to know the guys..." –He promised himself he was going to try, so he did.
Castiel gave him a slight look of surprise, like he'd expected Dean to leave right then, but recovered quickly.
"They are good men." –Castiel finally voiced with a noncommittal nod.
"They said the same about you." –Dean spoke with a smile, his voice soft as if to not scare him away.
Castiel's brows furrowed at this, his eyes almost boring into Dean, but he took it without a blink, his smile not faltering.
"That's very generous of them." –He spoke with a gravely tone, disbelief apparent in his words.
"I'm hoping it's true." –Dean said a click of his tongue, giving a playful grin.
When Castiel didn't respond, he decided to cut the man's discomfort short.
"See ya around, boss-man." –With a wave and a smirk he left the stage and made his way to his Impala, feeling a little giddy and a lot anxious.
-/-
The first two weeks of his stay were... admittedly ok.
He could bitch about the cold, restless nights, filled with the sounds of things that go 'bump' in the night. He still didn't feel comfortable in his cabin. It felt, empty in a way, lonely. He didn't know what to do to make it homey, he never really had a home to begin with. He was lost, there.
Working with the guys was fun, though. Every morning they awaited him with coffee, always had something funny to say, business was running smooth...
The weather was awful though. At least, to Dean it was. The nights were icy while the afternoons were California hot. It was hard to adjust his body to the abrupt changes.
And Cas... He was still distant.
Dean would wave at him, or send him a smile, or try to chat him up a bit, and he just shut him down. He wanted to tear his hair out, out of frustration. Or grab Castiel by the shoulders and shake him, shake him until he got some emotion out of him. He would settle for anger, even.
He was trudging around the forest that night, a flashlight he bought at Wal-Mart that kept flickering gripped in his hand, trying to find twigs and wood that he could use to get himself warm. He hadn't been sleeping practically at all ever since he came here, and the men started noticing he'd been less and less concentrated while working, resulting in some mundane mistakes.
He'd never started a fire before, but he'd watched enough western flicks to have the idea. He was a man, goddammit and he was going to grab him some wood, maybe even chop some in the morning, and get a damn fire rolling.
Although, it was hard to feel macho when you started feeling a little lost, losing sense of which direction you came in, not having the idea of how far you actually went into the woods. And then, to make matters worse, he heard a distant uproar of snarling and growling and then, a wail of pain, a shriek and then it was silence.
He stood frozen in place, knee arched in what was supposed to be a step forward and listened in.
Nothing.
A breath of relief or of fear escaped him, and it was then he came to the decision that being a man can wait 'till tomorrow.
He fast-walked into the opposite direction of where he was going, praying this was the way back. This wasn't the ideal time for him to get lost.
Out of nowhere, a rustling sound seemed to close in on him.
Shit, fuck, balls, ass, cock, this wasn't happening!
He wasn't ready for some, freakin' coat wearing freak to come and whip out his cock at him, or for some, grizzly bear to come roaring and shuck his head off.
He didn't even have a gun, a knife, nothing. The flashlight sure as hell wasn't gonna do nothin'.
His feet felt stuck to the crouching ground, knees locked in space. He couldn't move, could only stand and hear as the sound came closer and closer, until he heard four thumps from his right.
He jerked his flashlight towards the sound and saw...
A fucking wolf.
That's his luck, right there, a fucking wolf was going to eat him. That's what Dean Winchester's life sums up to. Dying eaten by a wolf.
He could see it in his head.
The newspaper's headline:
'Young, insanely attractive James Dean look-alike, Dean Winchester a sex God by profession, lover of Led Zeppelin, was eaten by a wolf today.'
Yep, that's gonna be it.
But, through his dazed state of fear, horror and mind numbing terror, he didn't notice that there were no more movements.
He blinked himself conscious to see that the wolf, a red wolf to be precise, was lying on the grass clad ground and he was...
Bleeding.
The wolf made a high pitched sound of pain, it's eyes closed, as it's chest rose and fell rapidly. Dean noticed that the wolf was bleeding from his side, somewhere lower around his neck, the dark, red liquid flowing and sticking to it's fur.
Ok, ok, panic mode, engage panic mode.
Dean breathed in and out deeply, mimicking the animal, unable to turn his eyes away from the scene in front of him.
One last, long sigh... Ok, abort panic mode.
It was time to be a man, (what he sat out to be tonight) and make a decision.
Leave the wolf here and let it die, try to forget about it in the morning, file it out as a peculiar event. Or, take it back to the cabin, try to help it out.
Which will it be?
First one was reasonable, also heartless and douchey. Second was morally right, also stupid, reckless, entirely idiotic.
Dean was known for being stupid, reckless and on occasion, entirely idiotic.
So, why the hell not?
He slowly crouched down next to the past out wolf, which made a stirring nose of distress as Dean bent to take him into his arms. Goddammit he was heavy. And bleeding. And this was terrible and terrifying, but fuck it.
-/-
He cant exactly recall how he made it back to his cabin.
Instinct or something, because he clearly wasn't thinking when he decided to take a freakin' wolf back to his place.
He watched with wide eyes as the wolf moaned and snuffed on the wooden flooring, his hands shaking in indecision.
He contemplated calling someone, take it to someone, anyone that wasn't as freaked out as he was.
Cas would probably kill it out of 'mercy', 'end it's pain' or some backwards shit like that.
Ash would think it's cool to skin the wolf and wear it for more 'badassness'. He shuddered at the thought.
Chuck would most likely faint. After, of course he had a stroke.
Adam wasn't even considered. Kid was... He was a kid. Enough said.
The sharp wail of pain is what got him to work.
Bobby! He needed Bobby right now!
Ok, phone it is.
He made the call with trembling fingers, the 'beep beep' seeming to take hours, as the moment seemed drawn on by the urge to do something, now.
"Yeah?" –The uninterested, slightly irritated voice of Bobby felt like angels singing right at the moment.
"Bobby! Bobby, please, I need help!" –He would have thought through those words before he said them, if it wasn't for the current mind-numbing problem.
"Dean, where are ya? Do I need to call the police? Where's Cas?" –Goddamit, Bobby.
"No, it's, I have a wolf here, and, he's hurt, Bobby! Bobby, seriously, I don't know what to do, just, tell me..." –He trailed off uncertainly raising a hand to grip at his hair in frustration.
"Is it a red wolf?" –Bobby asked after a short silence of accompanied rough breathing.
"Yeah, I-uh, I think it is, why the fuck does it matter?" – He knew not to curse with the man, but dammit, why did he have to ask stupid questions at a moment like this. Doesn't matter if it's Chewbacca, he just, needed to help.
"Ok, listen to me boy. You're in Cas' cabin right?" –Bobby's voice turned grave.
"Yeah."
"You search around and find yourself a med-kit. Fast." –Ok, ok, he was doing that.
He held the phone securely in his hand, gripping it as a lifesaver, while he rummaged through every shelf in every room, when finally, fucking finally he found the box pushed at the back in the small closet of his bedroom.
"I got it!" –He breathed into the phone, small triumph evident in his voice.
"Alright, now, listen ta me carefully, and you'll do alright. Alright?"
"Yeah, yeah." –Dean nodded to himself, setting the kit beside the wolf as he squatted beside it on unsteady legs.
"What's wrong with it?"
"He's got a wound, it's bleeding, I-I think it's been ripped." –Dean stuttered into the phone as he bent over the animal to inspect the wounded flesh, seeing the blood still flowing.
"Alright, don't ya go panicking on me, boy. Take the scissors, trim the fur around the wound." –He didn't question it, trusting the words spoke into his ear, and took the scissors, forcing his hand to steady as he carefully snipped the hair.
The wolf seemed to sense something happening, making a high pitched sound which made Dean stop for a second, but only for a second before he continued working.
"I think I got it." –He spoke into the phone, squeezed between his shoulder and ear.
"Now, is it still bleeding?"
"Yes."
"Take the antiseptic, pour some on a clean rag, and clean the wound."
He did as he was told, finding everything ne heeded in the kit. God bless Cas for leaving it here, and God smite his own ass for not bringing one with him.
As he put the rag to the wolf's skin, he was startled into shock by the loud, howling cry of pain, followed by snarling that revealed a set of sharp teeth over dark gums. The wolf's eyes snapped open, meeting his own with startling ice-blue color.
"Dean? Ya there?" –Bobby's voice snapped him out of his stupor, his hand working to clean the torn flesh free of bacteria and infection.
"Yeah, yeah I am. What now?" –His words came out shaky, as the wolf continued staring unblinkingly at him.
"You're gonna need to stich it up. Just, don't be scared and be steady, and you'll get it done, alright?" –Dean knew how to sew a wound, he'd done it to himself and others numerous times by now. But this was, a freakin' wolf here that just regained consciousness and could bite his hand off at any moment.
"Dean, you need to do this!" –Dean was shocked by the yelling voice of Bobby, but, nonetheless he complied. A threaded needle in his hand and he got to work.
The wolf was surprisingly quiet as Dean thread through it's skin, joining the ripped flesh together, closing over the open skin. He didn't have time to feel disgusted or grossed out. He was at work here, and he was gonna finish what he started.
"I-I think I'm done!" –Dean sighed in overcoming relief as he finished patching up the wolf, which appeared to be in a state of in-between conscious and unconscious.
"Good job, Dean. Now, cover it up with a gauze and you're done. No need to worry after that." –Bobby's voice rumbled into his ear and he did so, being careful not to tighten it too much over the coarse fur, getting a small huff from the wolf.
"Ok, ok... What do I do know?" –He asked for guidance, not trusting himself to asses the situation.
"Just, take it out on the porch and it'll be gone by morning, I promise."
And after that, as he clicked 'end call' he disconnected with the world, only aware of the amazingly soft quilts he was wrapped in.
-/-
Two days after the... What do you call saving a wolf? Incident? Miracle? Weird ass shit?
Weird ass shit sounds about right.
Two days after the weird ass shit, Dean was doing somewhat ok.
The morning after Dean passed out, the wolf was gone, just as Bobby said.
Which probably meant it was still alive, even though he still felt unsettled.
And then, life just went on.
He didn't dare say anything to the guys at shop.
Because, come on, if that doesn't sound like a freakin' lie, then what does?
How do you explain it without sounding like a lunatic?
'So, hey guys, I just saved a wolf yesterday, pretty badass, am I right, eh?'
Just, no.
So, he continued working, trying to keep his thoughts at bay, concentrating on his greasy hands, keeping up when the guys talked, reminding himself to laugh when appropriate and mind his own business.
He knew they noticed something was off about him, but they didn't approach it. He was glad in a way.
"Hey, have any of you seen Cas?" –Chuck said on their coffee break. Dean was all ears by this point, his mind clear as sky.
"I know, dude, it's weird! Hasn't come out of there in days, man."- Ash supplied, Dean following every word they exchanged with interest.
"I don't like it." –Adam offered with his usual stubborn frown.
Well, this was just what he needed. A distraction.
And so his mind was set.
-/-
He wasn't used to feeling so anxious. He wasn't a thirteen year old girl going on her first date, for Christ's sake. He was an adult who was going to go and bother another adult who happened to be his boss. And, he was going to bring Johnny Walker with him, who is always great company.
He drove back from the liquor store, sliding the car in place beside Castiel's truck.
He let out a breath as he gathered courage to knock on the man's door.
Really, it was ridiculous feeling so nervous over a simple... What the hell was he doing here? Castiel hadn't come out in days, and here he was in front of his door, shuffling his feet in indecision with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Screw it, no more overthinking.
He raised his hand to give a decisive knock when the door creaked open under the sharp thump of his knuckles.
Well, fuck. That was bad.
"Ah, Castiel?" –He snuck his head through the open doorway.
"Cas?" –He raised his voice a bit to call for the other man.
"Fuck..." –He stepped inside on tip of his toes, careful to not make much sound, leaving the clattering bottle by a near table.
Whatever the fuck happened here it wasn't good.
He noted that all the furniture was intact, nothing missing from his brief memory of the house. Still, though, no Cas to be seen.
"Cas!" –He shouted after the brief examination of the house, feeling even more unsettled once he came to the conclusion that there was no break in.
A loud thud was heard from the end of the hallway startling Dean from the previous silence.
He rushed to the door, images of a man in a black ski mask with gloves in disguise a knife in his hand, Castiel tied down to a chair, blood dripping from his brow fled his mind and just as suddenly disappeared as he opened the door.
What awaited behind, was Castiel, or rather Castiel's back, nestled between dark, green sheets, in an awfully cluttered bedroom, a wash cloth spread over his back's naked skin and a bowl with water on the floor beside his outstretched arm.
"Cas..." –Dean sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping as if weight had dropped from him.
"G' away..." –Castiel's voice came muffled from where his face was burrowed into a pillow.
"Your door, it was open."
"Said, go. Away." –Castiel deadpanned.
"Cas..." –Dean sighed once more, feeling too troubled for his own good. He just got over the crippling fear that something bad had happened to his boss, and then he sees him there lying limp on his bed, and he won't even talk to him.
He made hesitant steps towards the lying man, wanting to make sense of this situation.
Closer like this he could see that the man's skin was scorched red, the towel draped widely over his skin.
He reached a hand unconsciously, tugging the cloth away, earning him a hiss from the other man.
He gasped at what he revealed.
He only caught a glimpse, before Castiel whiplashed to him, his face a grimace of intense hatred, his hand taking a grip of Dean's t-shirt by the collar.
"Get. The fuck. Away." –Dean shivered at the cold words and colder eyes of Castiel as they bore into him. The hand that clutched at him was veiny with the force it gripped him, his face rolling with sweat and his cheeks damp with... tears.
He doesn't know why did it. He was only dimly aware that it felt right at the moment.
"I wanna help. Please, Cas." –Dean whispered as he smoothened over the knuckles of the hand that held him, his fingers leaving raised goose-bumps over porcelain skin.
Something broke then. The fury in his eyes vanished, to be replaced with a hint of deep sorrow.
"Dean..." –He practically whimpered, begging for something... He wanted Dean to let go, to give up. But, no. He promised himself he wouldn't.
"Just, lay down. Come on..." –He nudged back at the loose hand that wasn't holding on to him anymore, chancing a glance at the man's naked chest before he dropped back onto the bed, back bared to the air.
He leaned over to a crouch beside the bed, inspecting the situation before him.
Castiel's back was blistered red, three long traces of raised tissue, a scar that ran from his shoulders to the base of his boxers, gleaming droplets of sweat gathering around the dip at the small of his back.
He ran a feather light finger over the spine and over the scar, earning him a small hiss, quickly silenced by the pillow.
"This is cold water, Cas. You know that's only gonna make the fever worse." –He said as he dipped a finger into the water basin. It was obvious this was some sort of fever, sweating heavily, burning hot.
He straightened up when he got no response, walking back through the house grabbing a dry towel and the whiskey he left.
He settled on the bed beside the man's sheet covered hips, the strings giving a screech under the pressure of both their bodies.
He took the towel and began cleaning the mess of water and sweat on the man's back.
He couldn't keep his eyes off the scar. His mind raced over possible causes, trying to identify an animal with three claws that could leave such a mark. No luck was found there. The want to ask was strong, but he knew not to push his luck. It was a miracle the man even let him help after the outburst, so he kept quiet as he dried off his skin.
"This is gonna be a bit cold, so don't freak..."- He murmured quietly, afraid he might trigger another reaction from the silent man. Taking the bottle, he unscrewed the cap, pouring the whiskey on his palm, rubbing his hands together and with an audible gulp turned to Castiel.
A shivery gasp escaped from the man in question, his back arching off the bed as Dean laid his hands on the fiery skin.
His heart was thumping an erratic beat at the sight before him and the feeling under his hands.
He slowly dragged his palms around the scars, afraid he might hurt him, letting the flesh slip between his fingers as he made his way to the man's shoulders.
"Does... Does the scar hurt?" –He cursed himself for how croaky his voice came out.
"No." –Came the muffled voice of Castiel.
Dean kept quiet as he kneaded the skin of Castiel's back, switching between pouring more whiskey and rubbing the alcohol onto his back.
"I used to do this all the time for Sam. Back when he was still Sammy, my little brother..." –Dean spoke quietly into the heavy silence. The feeling of the strong muscles dipping under his palms, the delicate line of spine that ended hidden behind black boxers, the smell of sweat in the air had him dazed, and dammit if it didn't have an effect on him. He felt the want to settle more freely on the bed, straddle the man on either side of his hips, run his hands through the unveiled body. But, he knew too well where he was and who he was with. Didn't stop his mind from wandering.
"I remember one time, when he was... He was at a friend's house, and he came home and he was sick. I yelled at him for a good half hour. I didn't even register how bad his fever was until he collapsed on me. Never been so scared in my life..." –The words felt like a sin spoken into the confines of a confessional.
"I felt terrible..." –His voice trailed away as he concentrated on massaging the man before him.
"Why are you telling me this?"-Castiel said in a scratchy voice, turning his head to give him a glint of his blue eyes.
Dean didn't know how to respond.
He knew that he was feeling too overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts, so the talking was his way of concentrating. Why did he choose to voice the more intimate experience of his life, he didn't know.
"I don't know." –And he said as much.
Castiel seemed to squint his eyes, before he shuffled his head back to nestle into the pillow.
Dean finished his job as a masseuse, whilst pulling the sheets and blankets over the sore and shivering body of the soundless man, standing up to make his leave.
He knew he was supposed to just, turn out the lights and wish the man well, exit out of his bedroom and out of his home, go back to his car and drive back to his cabin. He knew this.
It didn't stop him from doing what he did next.
He dipped his head quickly to give the mop of black, damp hair a kiss.
"Get well, soon." –He made his way out in a rush of shuffling feet, before he could give the man the time to react.
In his haste he missed the matching blush on his boss' face.
Guys, guys, I just finished watching the last freakin' episode, guys, you guys...
ALL OF MY FEEEEEELS!
I CANNOT COMPREHEND MY FEELS!
All i Know is I am feeling super excited for next season and can't wait to see what's going on, and hopefully it will be awesome, and dammit I can just feel how awesome it's gonna be and Jimmy Carver is back, and that's total awesomeness and its just so mathematical, and unghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
In the meantime have part of a long ass fic I've been writing.