Every second is a lifetime
And every minute more brings you closer to God
And you see nothing but the red lights
You let your body burn like never before…

"Better than love," Hurts

xxx

Music was everywhere.

Filled with thousands of breaths it floated through the air and mingled with the flickering lights, bouncing off the thick walls, intensified. It twisted and curled above thousands of heads, creating an invisible dome with a solitary world inside ruled by music and music alone. Uniting people within it, reverberating from their souls, it became visible in their eyes and on their faces. The energy they created together was pure and immense—tangible. While the music played nothing existed beyond it.

Castiel glanced at the crowd below that was going wild. Their upturned faces were filled with joy and admiration. He smiled, wiping sweat off his forehead and looked over his synthesizer at the man who stood in the flickering floodlights a few feet from him. As if feeling Castiel's gaze, Dean turned his head and their eyes met. He grinned. If the sounds the crowd made were any indication, the concert was going great.

People loved them, loved their music, but first of all they loved Dean. And what was there not to love? He was young and gorgeous; he smiled, joked, and flirted with them, melting and breaking their hearts all at once. He sang with fierce emotion, his graceful fingers grasping the microphone the way that had to be illegal in some countries. The girls in the front row devoured him with their eyes. Castiel couldn't blame them. One girl – a tall brunette with dark curls – smiled and winked at Dean when he was close to the edge of the stage, but it was hard to say whether he had noticed her. She stood out in the crowd, looking like a model that walked down runways in New York and stole attention from the clothes. Castiel knew that her heart, as well as the hearts of many other girls, belonged to Dean. In the world outside this mounting rhythm that seduced and overwhelmed he was just a man and the thousands of fans out there had little in common, but right there—right then they all belonged to Dean.

xxx

They made a beeline from the backdoor of the club for the car that waited for them, bodyguards preventing the screaming women of different ages from getting too close. Already in the safe confines of the vehicle, Dean peered through the window to the crowd outside going insane. Somebody pressed an 'I love you, Dean' sign to the glass which made both him and Castiel chuckle. It was all still new to them – fame, attention, love of the devoted fans – it was amusing and flattering. In every city they visited, thousands of strangers were waiting for them and for their music.

"Wow," Dean breathed out, throwing his head back on the leather seat. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was still damp after the quick shower he had taken in the dressing room. The car slowly filled with the smell of his shower gel.

"Best concert ever. Did you see their faces? I think a couple of girls in the front row passed out."

Castiel nodded. "Yes, I saw it. I'm sure it was because of your charm," he added, smirking. "The military might label you as a weapon of mass destruction."

Dean pouted, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "You like kicking my ego in the jewels, Cas?"

Castiel smiled and mirrored him, putting his head back on the leather upholstery. From this angle and with the stark lighting he could see the freckles standing out against Dean's pale, makeup-free skin.

"That's what I'm here for," he murmured, half closing his eyes. Dean let out a soft laugh.

Out of the two of them, Castiel knew that Dean was the one who enjoyed being famous. He liked being the center of people's attention. Liked giving out autographs and interviews. Liked it when people on the street recognized him. Liked meeting with fans and talking to them. He even created a twitter account. It was now a little more than a year since it all started but Dean didn't seem to be getting tired of the fame.

Castiel on the contrary didn't find the constant attention of strangers quite so appealing. He had always enjoyed being alone or among close friends. But the idea of thousands of people looking at him, discussing him, and trying to find details of his personal life was disturbing. Sometimes he thought that he and Dean were complete opposites. How they got along so well was truly a small miracle. But then, opposites are known to attract.

The car headed for their hotel. There was no afterparty that night so he could take a long shower, get under the expensive silk sheets, and get some sleep after an eight hours flight and a big concert. He breathed in deep and listened to the sounds of the city outside. This was something both he and Dean had always dreamt of before becoming famous – new places, new cities, each with its own history, unraveling before them in all of their glory – travelling was part of their job that neither he nor Dean could ever get tired of.

xxx

The hotel suite was bigger than Castiel's apartment back home. With the constant tours and other work related things within the last year he hadn't had time to find himself a new place.

The room was painted in light colors – white and ivory – and furnished with a giant television screen that occupied half of the wall, a fireplace, and an equally large white sofa in front of it that was begging him to take a long nap.

However, the first thing Castiel did was take a long shower, lingering under the hot spray as it eased the tension from his muscles. Colorful lights flickered behind his closed eyes their music and Dean's voice still circling in his head.

He shuffled from the bathroom when he felt himself nodding off. His suitcase was nowhere to be seen and he thought they had once again taken it to Dean's room by mistake. He wasn't even sure why he and Dean now needed two separate suits. There was a time when they shared a tiny room for weeks while working on their first songs. It was too expensive for them to travel across town every day so Castiel would stay at Dean's place. They'd barely slept using all their free time to write music, but when they did Castiel slept on the floor on a thin mattress in Dean's room. Now, having a giant suite all to himself was absurd. He thought about telling Chuck - the twitching guy who organized their trips and everything related - that it was unnecessary.

He grabbed a snowy white bathrobe and put it on, heading across the hallway to where he knew Dean's suite was. He heard music coming from the inside and figured Dean wasn't sleeping so he knocked, but nobody answered. Castiel knocked again and waited a moment but there was still no answer. Any other time he would have left and waited until morning but everything he traveled with was in that suitcase and he needed it now. He tried the door on the small chance it was unlocked and to his surprise it was. Castiel poked his head inside; the room was dimly lit.

"Dean?" He made a few steps inside and froze.

Dean was sitting on a sofa with his eyes half closed and his legs spread apart. Between them kneeled a woman, her head bobbing over him. Castiel hastily made his way back to the door, hoping to escape before he was noticed, but suddenly Dean called his name.

"Cas?"

The woman between his legs turned her head and glanced up and Castiel recognized her. It was the girl with curly dark hair he'd seen at their concert only a few hours ago, the one who had winked at Dean.

Castiel made a sound, he wasn't quite sure what it was, and darted out of the room towards his own suite. The purpose of his visit was forgotten.

Once in his room he slammed the door shut, pressing his back against its rigid surface and closed his eyes to regain some composure. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply through his nose, fighting the nausea, and willing his heart to stop racing.

It was a long time before he opened his eyes again and then he saw it. His suitcase was standing proudly next to the bedroom door. He hadn't noticed it before.

Hastily, he took off the bathrobe, throwing it to the floor and walked directly to the bedroom, ignoring the damned suitcase. He got under the cool covers and scrunched his eyes, trying to get rid of the images of Dean and that woman.

He heard the buzzing of the traffic outside – millions of sounds mixing into the living organism of the city. He could hear noises coming from the hallway – guests returning to their rooms or going out for the night – chatting, laughing, enjoying themselves. Life was everywhere around.

Life was fantastic.

TBC…