A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICKI (ForeverShippingJohnlock)! I present to you, your birthday present, gift wrapped and everything. Enjoy some semi-hot homoerotic action, I love you.
This Is Going On My Blog
One thing that Charlie Bradbury didn't like about her new hunter lifestyle was the lack of wifi. Seriously, how did Sam not complain about it more?
But she put up with it for the fact that now she was a lot happier. The hole in her life she'd been filling with fiction and role play was now cemented in with reality. She felt, for the first time in years, like she had a family.
When she'd received the call that the angels had fallen and she had to, to quote Dean, "get her ass over here faster than the Batmobile", she'd been worried, sure, but excited. Was this it? Was she finally going to meet the famous Castiel, get answers to all the theological questions she'd had for years?
He hadn't been what she'd been expecting, that's for sure. He'd been trying to hide it, but his human form had been weak and scared and vulnerable. When he shook her hand, it had been feeble.
She couldn't see what all the fuss was about, to be honest. She couldn't see why Dean had described Castiel as if he'd been the whole world, the moon watching over their house, the light on a spring day that lets everything grow. And then she could, when she'd seen how Dean had looked at him.
And she'd smiled, when she'd formed a plan to help.
The noises of Dean crashing around in the kitchen usually woke her up. But today, there was quiet, and she slept in a little. Which was as unnatural as a wendigo in her closet.
Pulling on leggings to go with her Superman shirt, bare feet slapping on the classy tiled floor, she made her way towards the open space with all the desks that she liked to call 'the living room'. Here she found Sam, sitting at a table, with a huge old book. He was about halfway through it.
Charlie sighed, sneaking up behind Sam to peek over his shoulder. "What are you reading?" she said in his ear, and he jumped, spinning around.
"Oh. Hey, Charlie." Sam smiled vaguely. "How you doing?"
"Well, the world is ending, there's no wifi in this place, and the only conditioner you have is something called Men's Daily Helper, but apart from that, I'm peachy."
Sam snorted. "Yeah, you wanna stay away from that bottle. It's like, fifty years old. And I've been through the world ending and trust me; things could be worse."
Charlie just rolled her eyes. Seeing the Winchesters more often had also meant coming to terms with Sam's attitude. She sat down next to him, closing his book with a loud thud. "Where's everybody?"
"Uh, I think Dean went out for food, and as far as I know Cas is still in bed."
"Really?" She looked at the clock to see it'd just gone 11. "Doesn't seem like his style."
"Well he has been awake for thousands of years, I'm thinking the guy deserves his rest."
"Touché." Now's as good a time as any, she thought. "Hey, Sam? You notice anything... you know. Between them?"
"What, besides long stares and a self-sacrificing need for each other? No, not at all." He huffed a laugh and began to pack his things up.
Charlie followed him into the kitchen, surprised that he'd been so observant of his brother's emotions. "Wow, seriously? When did you first start to notice it?"
Sam deliberated, glancing round to talk to her while he began washing up clumsily. "I guess the first time I noticed it was when Cas came back from Purgatory because, I tell you, it was like I wasn't even in the room. Cas hardly even looked at me. I mean, he's my friend, and I'd die for him, and I know that he cares a lot about me. It's just obvious that he cares about Dean a lot more, in a different way."
Charlie listened to this with her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. "You've known for that long? Why didn't you do anything?!"
"I just kind of accepted it." He put down what he was holding and turned to look seriously at Charlie, who refused to be intimidated by the beast of a man before her. "If his messed up relationship with Cas helps him get through the day then hell, who am I to mess with that?"
"But don't you think he'd be happier if they were more?"
"Charlie." He had his mouth set in a line and his arms tensed against the counter behind him. "Trust me. Leave them be."
Of course, Charlie being Charlie, she refused to listen to his advice and went on the internet instead.
Her search of how to get two idiots in love to know that they're in love and end up making out please had no hits, so she let out a groan of frustration and played video games instead.
Come on, she thought, angry at herself. All that role playing, you should be able to put yourself in Dean's shoes. She thought about how OTPs usually get together: Battle of Hogwarts, fighting the Empire, travelling in a blue box and defeating aliens with a bow-tied time lord.
Now there's a thought. She felt a smile sneaking onto her face. Fighting brings people together. Well, sometimes. Mostly. Shut up Charlie. She remembered Sam telling her about how Castiel had become a god and Dean had argued relentlessly with him to get him to change his mind, because he needed him so badly and went crazy without him. When he'd got him back he'd never wanted to let him go.
And if Dean were to get another shove in this direction...
It would be easy given the tense circumstances to cause a little friction between the two. Almost too easy. But this wasn't about fun, despite how much she was enjoying herself. For Charlie, this was well and truly about making Dean happy, about repaying the debt, about giving him as much as he'd given to her.
She'd work on Sam next week.
It got to noon and they were starting to get worried about Castiel, still in his bedroom. Charlie stood up from where she sat - reading The Hobbit again next to Sam, who'd reopened his huge book and was poring over 'exorcisms through the ages' – and wandered round the bunker, eventually finding the door with the piece of paper saying Cas taped to it. Dean had done this after they'd assigned rooms, saying, "Hey, I'm not having you disturb my four hours because you think my room is the toilet. And I'm especially not having you using my room as the toilet." Kevin was around here somewhere, too, but he spent most of his time shut away, studying the angel tablet to reverse the damage Metatron had done. He only emerged once every few days for food, something Charlie could empathise with from her teenage days.
She knocked lightly on the door and waited, ear pressed to the luscious wood, before hearing a vaguely affirming grunt. She let herself in and was surprised to find Castiel sitting on the floor, fully dressed, surrounded by newspapers.
"Hey, Castiel -"
"Cas," he interrupted.
She started a little. He may have been less powerful, but his voice sure wasn't. "Uh, sorry?"
"Call me Cas. Everyone else seems to."
She gave him an awkward thumbs up. "Okay, Cas. What are you doing?"
"Reading."
He didn't seem to want to elaborate, so she asked, "What are you reading?"
"Newspapers."
She gritted her teeth. "Why?"
This time he gave her a satisfactory answer. "I'm catching up on world news. Usually when these things happen I'm informed by a... sixth sense, if you will. But I don't have that anymore." He looked with resentment at the papers. "So this will have to do."
"Alrighty then." She wasn't really sure how to talk to him, to be honest. "Anything good?"
He looked up at her. "No. But plenty of bad things."
"Great! I mean – um."
"Is there something I can help you with?" It was like she'd walked in on him doing something personal. He must be feeling pretty shitty, having to resort to human things. Damn. If I'd said that a year and a half ago it wouldn't have sounded so normal, she thought with a small smile.
"I just came to check up on you. You haven't been out of your room."
"I was busy," he said, slightly irritated. Charlie was beginning to get the feeling that Cas didn't like her much, or at least wanted her to leave.
"Right. Yeah. That's cool. Dean'll be home soon, though, you should eat then."
Cas's head snapped up. "He's not here?"
"No, he went out to get some supplies. Food, toilet paper, that kind of stuff. Actually, he really stressed the importance of toilet paper, it was kind of weird..." She trailed off, watching Cas relax with her words. It was slightly adorable.
There was a silence. She was still standing awkwardly in his room, and he was going through the papers again, so she said, "Okay, well, see you later," and slunk away.
Well, one thing's for sure, she thought as she made her way back to the living room to wait for Dean. Well, two things. One, they've got it bad for each other. Two, I'm gonna make this happen if it kills me.
When Dean came home a few minutes later, he didn't expect to be bombarded with "where were you what's in the bags why did you take so long why are you running away". Nevertheless, Charlie followed him into the kitchen and bobbed up and down a little, as was her style, while helping Dean pack away the food.
"You were gone for like three hours, bro. What d'you do, go to Italy for spaghetti?"
"You're not funny," Dean said over his shoulder.
"You shut your mouth."
They talked for a few minutes about this and that before Charlie felt that enough time had passed that she could successfully ambush Dean without him immediately running away.
"So hey, Dean. Cas is in his room, he hasn't eaten today. Maybe you could bring him a sandwich or something."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, sure. I bring Cas a sandwich is the day that Sam bangs a normal chick."
"I... don't understand that reference. Anyway. Did you ever think about what's gonna happen when Kevin works out how to get him back upstairs?"
Dean slammed the fridge door and turned to Charlie. "What?"
She hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs, boots banging against the cupboard, trying to seem as casual as possible. "Well, you know. He's probably gonna go back to Heaven, right? It's his home. And if he seals the gates like he was planning to..." She looked at him meaningfully. "No more little buddy."
She watched carefully as Dean raised his eyebrows and leaned back against the counter next to her. "No. To be honest, I haven't thought about that. But he's gonna do what he thinks is right, and I'm gonna let him."
"Even if it means never seeing him again?"
Dean didn't reply.
"Even if it means him choosing Heaven over Earth?"
"Just – what are you doing?" He frowned starting to walk away. "He's my friend, he can do what he wants, I don't care."
"Sorry, I was just wondering," Charlie called after him, before grinning and punching the air. The seed has been planted, she thought, steepling her fingers together and holding back an evil-but-well-meaning laugh. Dance, puppets, dance! I mean, uh. Have a nice time, people I care about! Be better in the long run! Yeah, that's better.
A few days later, which is usually around how long it took for Dean's emotions to fully develop, Charlie walked past his bedroom to hear loud shouting. Being the polite and respectful adult she was, she only listened for a few minutes.
"Hold up. Is this not good enough for you?" came Dean's angry voice, a little hurt sneaking in there too.
"Dean, I know you're doing the best you can -"
"I get it, Cas. Message received."
Footsteps started towards the door. "Whoops," whispered Charlie, walking quickly – and nonchalantly – away, tail metaphorically tucked between her legs. She sat down in the living room, cursing "damn it to Skaro" before dropping her head in her hands and groaning loudly. Is it possible that her plan had backfired? But that's never happened before! I'm a shipping genius!
She did what all good fangirls do when their emotions are causing them stress. She took a nap.
Dean did, incidentally, make Cas a sandwich. But it wasn't on purpose. He made two for himself and didn't eat the second one. Yeah. That totally happened.
He put it on a plate and grabbed the last beer and knocked on Cas's door three times. There was no reply, until he said, "Hey, Cas, open up." At this, the door opened a crack.
Cas peeked out, looking Dean up and down. His mouth opened, probably to tell Dean to go-away-he's-busy, but when his eyes caught on the food his newfound hunger got the best of him and he opened the door wider to let the other man in.
"I'm touched," Dean said sarcastically, sitting down on Cas's bed and holding out the lunch for him.
Of course, Cas being Cas, he closed the door and sat down right next to Dean, less than a foot between them. Dean sighed loudly, but couldn't bring himself to move. He didn't want to annoy Cas further.
"Uh, Cas, what are you doing?" He motioned towards the newspapers.
"Reading."
"Okay then." He'd learned not to ask too many questions when Cas was being quiet. Detail isn't important when your entire home has just been destroyed and all your siblings cast out.
He sat quietly next to Cas for a few minutes, happy to simply provide comfort and companionship or whatever. Cas ate slowly, concentrating hard, eyeing each bite before he took it. Dean watched the way his mouth moved and his eyes moved and his hands moved and shit, what are you doing, something of your own's gonna be moving in a minute.
There was one question he was dying to ask, though. Damn the repercussions. Dean was a lot of things, but he wasn't a coward.
"Hey, so, uh. Cas?"
Cas hummed in response around a mouthful.
"The endgame here is to get you back into Heaven, right?"
Cas swallowed, putting his food to the side and looking Dean in the eye. "Not necessarily, I suppose. It's mainly just to restore my grace to me."
"Right, right. And help your brothers and that."
"And sisters."
"Yeah." He wiped his palms on his jeans. "But are you going back to Heaven?"
Cas narrowed his eyes. "What's this about, Dean?"
"Just... humour me."
Cas looked at him for a few more seconds before sighing and saying, "Alright. Well, hopefully, I can move between the two worlds like I did before. A member of Heaven, a visitor to Earth."
"You ever think it might be, you know." Dean hesitated. "The other way round?"
At this, Cas's brow furrowed so deeply that Dean laughed a little. "I'd never considered it. I do think of this place as my home, but it's not my..." He searched for the right words, his hands flitting in front of him. Dean watched them and hated himself. "Proper home."
This struck something with Dean that he didn't like. He shifted around where he sat so he was further away from Cas, so his glare could hit him full on. "Hold up. Is this not good enough for you?"
"Dean, I know you're doing the best you can -"
"I get it, Cas. Message received." He stood up, clenching his fists by his sides, and moved towards the exit.
"Dean, listen to me." He grabbed Dean's shoulder and spun him round, and Dean was reminded of the time in the beautiful room when Cas didn't want to rebel and Dean yelled at him and then Cas did. For Dean. Always for Dean. "It's not about me, or you. It's about the greater good, my duty. What has to be done. I must return to Heaven to fix things."
"I get that, Cas." He felt the warmth of Cas's hand, still on his shoulder, and leaned into it minutely. "I do. It just really sucks to know that you choose Heaven over Earth, every time. Them over us."
"The angels are my family, Dean."
Surprising tears threatened to show themselves. "I thought we were your family, too."
Cas didn't have any words for this.
He stared at Dean for a few seconds, mouth moving in vain, hand clenching tighter on his shoulder. He let out a sigh of frustration and confusion and knew what he wanted to tell Dean, felt it in his bones, in his skin, in his decisions, but he didn't know how to tell him, God, it was so annoying and just he felt like he was stuck on a launchpad and they wouldn't let him take off but he had to get somewhere, he knew he had to get somewhere -
And then he knew where when he slammed forwards and pushed his mouth on Dean's.
Nerves and hesitation and self-doubt were pushed clean out of his brain by happiness and closeness and warmth and love as he showed Dean his meaning, his intentions, his future. It was funny how normal it felt, how right, how they fit together, and Cas's wavering belief in his father was restored as all his faith came flooding back, filling his fingertips, his throat, but especially his lips.
When Dean started to respond, to grab Cas's hair and pull him closer, Cas didn't know what to do with all he was feeling, so he just wrapped his arms around Dean's hips and tried to make Dean feel as good as he did himself.
Yeah. He knew where he was going.
He was staying right here.
Charlie sat on the kitchen floor in pyjamas eating ice cream out of the tub and blaring Celine Dion from her phone. Every few minutes Sam would come in and say something sassy and Charlie would swear at him in Klingon. And so the cycle repeated. They were all out of beer, which was weird, because usually Dean saved at least one in there before getting more. His 'apocalypse protocol', he called it. It was one of his only three rules. Which left the question: where did it go?
And then Dean wandered in, mouth pink and swollen and wet, hair sticking up like she'd never seen it before, shirt hanging from his shoulders waywardly. He had the biggest, sloppiest grin on his face, and it was no huge leap she had to make to work out what had happened there.
"Oh hey Charlie," Dean said passively without looking at her, making a B-line to the fridge for a bottle of water. And if that was some whipped cream he slipped past her, well, she didn't want to know. "How you doing."
She didn't reply, because he obviously didn't care, choosing instead to quip, "use protection," as he passed her. He kicked her leg, his grin not fading one bit.
Ten minutes later she was clinking wine glasses with Sam and drinking to a "job well done".