DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, I would cry. A lot. All the time, actually. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW, I suppose?
Author's Note: Whoo, Destiel fic~! *cries because of the beauty that is Destiel* I've honestly been writing this for about ten years (...okay, maybe not, but whatever), and it's not quite finished yet, but I thought I'd publish the first chapter now, because YOLO, that's why.
Okay, so things to keep in mind about this story. Uh... it's full AU (OMG NO WAYYY) and there's tears and pain and love and cuteness and SAMMY and more tears and a lot more pain and then loads more love and then a happily ever after. (Or is there? You'll have to read to find out...) If something confuses you (which it might), then don't worry because it'll all be explained later on. (Hopefully.)
So yeah. This is dedicated to my amazing friend tii-chan17, because she is amazing and lovely and yeah.
PLEASE REVIEW, GUYS. I LOVE REVIEWS OMG. Oh, and also, this'll be updated twice a week, probably on a Saturday and a Wednesday where I am. So yeah. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this. (:
~Rainbow Fruit Loop xx
~Praying for Redemption~
Chapter One.
"Roommate wanted. Modern apartment, fully furnished, two minute walk from nearest shops. $450 per month, internet included. Call Dean on 1-785-2847-0275."
It was on a slight whim that Castiel - ever the introvert, and definitely never one to make unnecessary human contact - called the cell phone number he had seen advertising a roommate in the local paper.
He wasn't quite sure why he did it, really. He had a nice enough apartment - if a bit small, and occasionally damp (okay, okay, it was very often damp, but as long as he didn't hang around in the kitchen for too long, he wouldn't get too sick), but he was fine with that. The rent wasn't too extortionate, and he didn't have to walk far to reach the nearest fast food restaurants.
He didn't have a roommate, no, but Cas just didn't like people. He enjoyed being isolated, and though he did occasionally feel the pang of loneliness that so many people his age complained about, he was sure that - when the feeling became too hard to ignore - buying a cat would definitely suffice. Cas liked cats.
So what was he thinking, calling up a stranger to ask if he could have a look around his home? Sure, the apartment might be a lot nicer than his own, seeing as though it was probably in the nice part of Lawrence, not the unclean, crime-ridden part, but Cas's own was fine, and he certainly didn't need an inquisitive roommate poking his nose into his affairs, did he?
There was absolutely no reason at all for him to contact anyone about an apartment, nice or not, but, despite everything, Cas found himself waiting for this 'Dean' to pick up his phone, his stomach all tense and twisted with a familiar nervousness.
So, when Dean's voice spoke out across Cas's phone's speakers, his voice like liquid honey - a ray of amber sunshine after a storm - Cas almost dropped his phone in surprise. He really wasn't sure why he was so startled that Dean had answered, though, because that's what people were supposed to do when their phones rang.
"Hello, this is Dean Winchester speaking." Dean answered cheerfully, and Cas was immediately drawn to his deep, rough voice, despite knowing nothing about the man.
Slightly flustered, because that's what he did best in social situations, Cas managed to answer the phone without yelping in surprise. "Hello, my name is Castiel Novak, and I'm ringing in response to the roommate advertisement you posted in today's newspaper."
Quietly - so the stranger wouldn't hear his anxiety - Cas released the breath he'd been holding. That wasn't too bad. He'd sounded sane, and moderately intelligent.
Dean made a surprised noise at his end of the phone. "Already? Wow. I thought it was going to take months for someone to respond. I thought I'd be all alone for months on end, with only actors on the TV to keep me company!" He chuckled to himself, and, idly, Cas wondered why this stranger was laughing with him.
At Cas's lack of response, Dean cleared his throat, sounding semi-awkward at the long stretch of uncomfortable silence that no doubt made him fidget. "Okay. So, do you want to come around and look at the apartment today, then?"
Startled by the abrupt question, Cas was thrown into an inner panic - did he actually want to go and see the apartment? What was the point, when he already had a place to call home? And he didn't want a roommate. He was supposed to dislike people, even ones who had nice voices. Why had he even called in the first place? How was he going to get out of this one? How could he say 'no' now?
"Uh, buddy?" Dean sounded mildly concerned, and Cas chided himself for being so awkward. "You still there?"
"I-yes, I'm here." Cas finally replied, bringing his spare hand up to his head to press his fingers to his temples.
"And…?" Dean asked, referring to his previous question. "You want to come round?"
And, for reasons completely unknown to himself, Cas found himself answering, "Yes. I do."
After Dean had given him the address, and a time to meet at the apartment, Cas slumped back in the awkward chair he had been perched in. He was currently sitting inside a coffee shop, a cup of now-lukewarm coffee sitting in front of him.
It was eleven o'clock in the morning, and the rest of the day stretched out in front of him; lonely and bitter and dull. Cas didn't have a job - or, rather, he had been fired from his previous job as an assistant to a pretty decent photographer, because of his "pretty disabling personal issues", as his boss had put it.
Cas didn't really think that it was fair to dismiss someone on account of their hindering personal problems, but here he was; jobless, cold because his much-loved trench coat was starting to get holes, and about to meet a complete stranger on the terms of moving in with him.
Belatedly, Cas wondered if he should have asked Dean what he looked like - perhaps asked him to wear a red carnation or a paisley scarf, even if it was a little bit cheesy - because he was sure that the streets would be pretty busy at five thirty in the evening. And he didn't want to go up to every man he saw and ask him if they were "Dean from the advertisement", because that would involve talking to more strangers, and Cas didn't feel quite up to that.
Cas sighed then, annoyed with his slight misanthropic attitude, and frustrated with his failure to react well publicly. He took a sip of his coffee - hoping that it would calm his thoughts down to a more bearable pace - before pushing the cheap cup away from himself, disgusted at its now-icy temperature.
He thought briefly about buying another one - anything to eradicate the cold that was nipping at his fingers and caressing his shoulders, but he was too tense to keep anything down, and he could always make himself some pretty awful decaf coffee back at his apartment if he needed to.
As Cas stood up to leave the warmth that the café provided, it suddenly occurred to him that Dean didn't know who he was. Dean didn't know his face. So, technically… Well, Cas didn't really need to turn up at the apartment at all, did he? He could just hide away in his own, heater-less flat until Dean gave up on him.
A little part of him would feel bad for wasting Dean's time, and for abusing his obviously cheerfully trusting nature, but Cas was sure that could live with himself. He was sure that Dean would have many more offers, so he really wouldn't be losing out if Cas didn't show up.
But as he walked back to his decidedly dingy apartment, Cas realised that this was what the doctors had encouraged him to do. Make some changes in his life. Step out of his comfort zone. Meet new people. Experience new things.
And, well, if meeting Dean Winchester, the stranger with the expensive flat and the nice voice, was what the doctors had ordered, then Cas really didn't have a choice, did he?