Dean pulled the door of his motel room open as soon as Castiel knocked.
'Cas,' he grinned in greeting, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he ushered him in and closed the door behind him. 'Good day?' he asked, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the chairs by the window in the small, slightly damp smelling room.
'It was relatively uneventful,' Castiel shrugged, not seeming like he cared very much about it at all. 'I dropped a slushy on my foot. I've had an uncomfortably wet sock for twenty minutes.'
'I got a pair you can borrow,' said Dean, while Cas sat watching him, and got up to go through a bag that was on one of two beds in the room. He tossed a rolled up pair to Cas, went to the mini fridge and pulled out two cokes. He returned to the table by the window, slid one over to Cas as he sat looking at the socks, and sat across from him. 'Go ahead, put 'em on.'
Castiel frowned, continuing to watch Dean as he kicked off his shoes. Dean sat watching him, their eye contact unbroken, unspeaking. Clearly, he was waiting for Cas to speak first.
'So you wanted to talk to me?' he asked, referring to when Dean had entered the store earlier and confused the hell out of him with his good mood and his odd request. 'Something about pretending to be … your boyfriend?'
'Yeah, that's right,' Dean nodded.
Castiel broke the eye contact to remove his socks and he placed them on the floor by his shoes. He spoke as he dried off his foot with his one dry sock, then began putting on the borrowed socks Dean had given him.
'Is this about what you told me last week?' Castiel asked, slipping in little glances at Dean when he could throughout his sock-putting-on activity. 'Because if you, I don't know, want to tell Sam about it by having a fake relationship with someone of your own gender, I don't think that's the way to do it.'
Dean raised his eyebrows as he caught when Cas was saying and his heart rate accelerated automatically as he watched Cas pick up one of his shoes, presumably the wet one, and dry it out with one of his discarded socks, presumably the dry one.
'No – it's about the, uh … the bi thing,' Dean assured him quickly. He still struggled to say the b-word out loud, especially in front of another person, since Cas was the only one who knew apart from a handful of long-gone guys from his past.
He remembered accidentally getting into it as he'd tended to Cas's wound and carefully, as gently as he could, wrapped his wrist in a bandage.
'So are you upset at all about it not being, y'know … a date?' Dean had asked carefully, in a room in another motel closer to the house where they'd babysat, killed an angel, so on.
'Not … particularly,' Castiel had responded. 'Nora is a nice woman. She's always kind to me, so when I accepted the offer of what I thought was a date I accepted to be nice and because I assumed that's what humans are supposed to do. Isn't it?'
'Well it's not what you're supposed to do,' Dean explained, tying the bandage in place with feather light touches, and placing Cas's hand down to get something that would support it more. 'There's no rules to this whole … human thing. You do what you want to do. So if a girl asks you out and she's nice and pretty and you like her … you either go or you don't. Do what you wanna do. For future reference.'
Dean worked on Cas's arm again, wincing internally when Cas flinched slightly. He wanted to apologize – but Cas was trying very hard not to let any pain show through his mask of a face, so he pretended he hadn't noticed and made note to be more careful.
'She is pretty,' Castiel confirmed, staying very still. 'And she is nice. And I do like her, but … I'm not sure I like her in the way you're referring to.'
'No?' Dean asked. Castiel shook his head. 'Well, there's nothing wrong with that – you're all done here, buddy. Drink? The pizza should be here soon.'
Dean stood up and Castiel inspected how he was patched up. Dean had done a good job, and the pain was fading to a dull ache now he was secured in whatever the thing was Dean had put on him. With his uninjured hand, Castiel accepted the beer Dean handed him, already open.
'Thank you,' Castiel replied, and took a drink. He sighed, glancing at Dean who had reclaimed his seat next to him on the bed. There were chairs in the room, but they hadn't bothered to move to them. The first aid kit was still open to their side. He sighed, feeling slight nerves about what he was considering saying, wondering if he would sound stupid, or if Dean would even care.
'Something you your mind?' Dean asked, seeming to sense Cas's hesitation.
'It's just …' Castiel sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. He wasn't sure why this was so difficult for him to say. 'These days I've noticed I don't really … like any women. They don't seem to spark my interest like they do for you, unless they approach me first, then I just feel obligated to do what they seem to want from me.'
Dean took a drink. Castiel watched him seem to consider the words, nodding as if he understood, not as if he thought Cas was crazy or abnormal or something. Dean put his beer down on the night stand by the bed, folded his arms and surveyed Castiel's discomfort. Automatically, he reached out and placed a hand on Cas's shoulder, something Cas had done to him many times, and felt Cas tense beneath him.
'Hey, man,' he said, trying to sound as easy and casual as possible. 'Not everyone is interested in women. Some people like women, some people like men, some people like both or even more or whatever Sam said. Something about pans.'
Castiel squinted in confusion at the "pans" comment, but didn't ask. Instead, he pursued a follow up on another part of what Dean had said.
'You can like more than just one or the other?' he asked, tilting his head to the side while Dean's hand slid from his shoulder to rest on the bed. 'It's not just … heterosexual or homosexual?'
'Dude, no,' Dean told him, shaking his head. 'There's those two, yeah. And there's bisexual – that means two. And Sam was talking about more one time but I wasn't listening because he had a piece of lettuce stuck in his hair and I was wondering when he'd notice.'
Castiel laughed, looking at the floor. He exhaled, took a drink, and continued.
'I've always thought there was just two,' he admitted, though Dean probably already had guessed that.
'Believe me, there's not,' Dean assured, then cleared his throat, seeming to hesitate before his next question. 'If you don't mind me asking, is there anything you are, like, into? Like … men, or something else like … I don't know, drag queens or something?'
'What's a drag queen?'
'Doesn't matter,' Dean muttered, shaking his head, thinking he should have known better to talk about something Castiel was likely to never have heart of.
'To answer your question,' said Castiel, 'I've never thought about it. I'm indifferent to sexual orientation, but I've never dwelled on the matter of my own or even anyone else's. I just … accept what I see. You and women. Sam and his failed attempts with women. The two men who sometimes come into the store holding hands and talking closely. I watch but I don't … dwell.'
'Understandable,' Dean nodded. 'And I like that you're just … indifferent. A lot of people are assholes man. They say being gay is like … a crime. Or being bi just … isn't a thing. I had a guy say that to me once like ten years ago, and –'
Dean stopped talking at once. His heart started to pound so loudly Cas could probably hear it, and any minute now it would jump out of his chest and through the ceiling. He fucked up. He was trying to give Cas some casual information, and he fucked up. He chanced a glance at Cas, who was looking at him curiously.
'I didn't mean to say that.'
'It's alright,' Castiel promised him, then mirroring Dean's actions from earlier, put his hand on Dean's shoulder. Well, the thing attached to his hand, that was. It was his only free hand, and it was wrapped up. He spoke as gently as Dean's hands had moved when he was wrapping up said hand. 'Dean … I don't want to overstep any boundaries but … are you …?'
'No,' Dean denied quickly. Castiel removed his hand. He saw Cas turn away from him, looking like he felt guilty for even asking. And then Dean felt guilty for making Cas feel guilty, so he took a deep breath and whispered, 'yes.'
One slip up had been the start of one of the most open nights he'd ever had and he discovered he'd been stupid to ever think that he couldn't be as open as he wanted with Cas. A few words exchanged, a promise that Castiel wouldn't tell anyone, not even Sam, and Dean was feeling relaxed by the time the pizza came. Then that night he'd slept sitting in one chair with his legs across on the other, insisting Castiel take the bed, he dropped him off at work the next morning and hadn't seen him in a week.
Until now.
'Okay,' Castiel said carefully, lowering his shoes and slipping his feet back into them, 'then why the unusual request?'
'Because of this.'
Dean nudged something across the table to Cas as Cas opened his coke, acknowledging it for the first time. Once the coke was open he used the hand that wasn't wrapped around the can to pull the folder closer to him. He flipped it open and pulled out the first page, and stayed reading for a while. It was a series of articles, some clipped from newspapers and some printed from websites, about a series of murders in one apartment building which for some stupid reason wasn't vacated yet. It was an apartment building in West Hollywood, which was exclusive to LGBT+ people only, mostly lived in by same sex couples and transgender people, according to the articles. At first Cas wondered what these articles had to do with anything, but then he noticed an odd pattern with each murder.
Victims were all in their apartments. No sign of a break in, no DNA trails, all killed by asphyxiation but there were no signs of how the asphyxiation came about. And in just one article there was a mention of goo at the scene of the crime that couldn't be identified.
'You think … these are ghost attacks,' Castiel said slowly, not quite sure of himself.
'Yeah,' Dean nodded, confirming it. 'And you and me are going to hunt this thing.'
'… By posing as a couple.'
'Exactly.'
'But Dean, you've said before I'm a terrible hunter,' Castiel reminded him, looking almost ashamed as he said it. 'There must be someone better.'
'Better hunters? I know a few,' Dean told him, nodding. 'Better for me to work with? No. Besides, last week you did awesome. Bet you could do that again.'
Castiel frowned at the table as if it were what was confusing him. Dean was asking him to … work on a case with him. Alone, in West Hollywood he presumed, for who knew how long. There was a month to a month and a half between each victim or pair of victims here, and the last was five days ago.
'Why me?' Castiel asked.
'I trust you not to make it … weird,' Dean admitted. 'I thought at first it would be weird when first told you, and I knew Sam would give me shit for it, so I deiced if I didn't let it be weird and didn't tell Sam it was you, then … it'd be … better? But if you don't want to, that's cool too.'
'No,' Castiel insisted quickly. 'No, I'd like to help you. I would be completely respectful of any rules or boundaries, do whatever you need me to and I won't tell Sam anything. Who does he think you're doing it with?'
'I told him I was doing it with a random hunter I met once that he doesn't know,' Dean shrugged. 'So you're in?'
'I'm in,' Castiel confirmed. 'What's the situation? Or what's going to happen now?'
'Well …' Dean started, somewhat guiltily, 'you'll need to quit your job. Or take a leave – but if you decide to quit I could, y'know, come up here every week and give you money to stay in a motel and buy food and whatever. Until you get back on your feet or … wings or whatever.'
'I can agree to that,' Castiel nodded, looking to Dean completely on board.
'Great, so …'
Dean got to his feet and looked through one of his bags, pulling out another folder of papers. He pushed the case folder away, dragged his chair over next to Cas, and proceeded to go through the plan.
He and Sam had spent three days preparing. They'd obtained several thousand dollars – not exactly legally, but it was for a good cause – and several credit cards to use to get by for however long they needed. They had several reviews written by Sam at different phone numbers, all referring to "Mr Winchester and his partner" so Sam wouldn't find out who Dean was doing this with, and every review was good, but believable. Their cover story was set up too – they were two professional writers (which would explain them being home most of the time, and their research were they to conduct any and be noticed doing it) and they weren't married, but Castel had chosen to use Dean's last name, legally changing at two years into their relationship because he disliked his own and refused to disclose what it was.
'And I got us these fancy outfits and fake glasses,' Dean said lastly, pulling the very formal outfits out of his bag, still with their tags on and everything. 'We go today in these clothes to take pictures for fake IDs, like driver's licenses and passports and everything, but before that we've got an appointment with a photographer to take some pictures in front of a green screen so we look more … like a real couple who do stuff. We'll frame a few and say that they're from a book signing. In Canada. Because we're saying you're Canadian, and people usually won't ask questions if you say you work in Canada.'
'You're extremely … thorough,' Castiel commented, examining the sweater vest Dean had handed him. He decided he liked it.
'Sam's not the only smart one,' Dean said proudly, a satisfied little grin on his face. 'But he was smart enough to make up a fake book we co-authored. He stole a bunch of text from different places on the internet, changed some names, did about ten hours of writing himself, and here it is. We wrote a gay horror novel because we're gay and like horror.'
The cover featured two woman holding large guns and several shadowy, spooky figures. It was called "What Goes Bump in the Night" and, Castiel realized as he flicked through it, was a real book. Short, only one hundred or so pages, but real. He could easily pinpoint things Sam wrote – influences from past cases he'd heard about screamed at him from the pages. And, where the writing style changed and things became unfamiliar, he saw horror stories taken from the darkest depths of the internet.
'Genius,' Castiel muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. 'The two of you don't get enough credit for how much work you put into your cover stories for cases.'
'Yeah, well,' Dean shrugged, taking something out of a small case in his bag, 'it's the downside to the job. Now,' he said, sliding fake glasses with plastic instead of glass onto an unexpecting Cas's face, 'go put on the clothes I got for you, writing man. They should fit, I sort of just … guessed your size. There's shoes too, in that box there.'
Castiel frowned at him, but picked up the clothes and headed towards the closed bathroom door. As soon as it had shut behind him, Dean let out a sigh of relief. Keeping so calm and casual was a struggle. If Sam were here, every instinct would be screaming at him to get angry and defensive and make things uncomfortable, awkward and laced with discontent. But with Cas, he guessed, he could just … go with it. He knew Cas wasn't Sam and wouldn't be bothered to tease or judge him for anything they had to do or say. He knew it, still, it was hard to remain as calm as he hoped he was coming off. He'd done so much preparation because he didn't want to come off as too eager – he was not eager – but he didn't want to be unprepared.
Yes, Castiel was the safest thing he could think of in this predicament, and he trusted Cas enough to do anything they needed, while Sam was safely none the wiser. He didn't even want to think about the teasing he'd endure if Sam knew – frankly, he got enough teasing without this. He did not have a thing for Cas, no matter how many times Sam had poked fun at that subject over the years with his 'Cas looks good today, doesn't he?'s and his 'so Cas had sex … what were you doing at that time, Dean?' and all of the other ridiculous comments he'd been experiencing since he first met the guy. He most certainly would never forget the, 'are you sure this Castiel guy you're always talking about is an angel and not just your secret boyfriend?' and the years and years of jibes that would lead to.
Dean. Did not. Have a thing. For Cas.
Screw Sam and his stupid fucking jokes.
Think of the devil, Dean's phone buzzed, and it was Sam asking how things we going.
Good. Me and J headed out to get pics taken soon, leaving for WH tomorrow
"J" was the name he'd given the mysterious hunter. He'd come up with it from the term "John Doe."
'Dean?' Castiel asked, making Dean whip around to see him at the bathroom door, looking very … dapper.
The light blue shirt made of silk-like material brought out the blue of his eyes, not that Dean was looking at his eyes. They just stood out – there were very blue. And Dean liked the color blue … not because of Cas or anything, but because the sky was blue and the ocean was blue and there was one annoyingly catchy song that went "I'm blue da-ba-dee-da-bah-die" that he may or may not have once thought went "I'm blue and I'm in need of a guy."
The tie and the pants were the same color; beige, the tie made of the same material as the shirt. And the black sweater vest fit him well. Quite well, in fact. Dean was proud of himself for getting suck an exact size. He'd gotten a size smaller than his own size in everything but the shirt – Cas was slimmer than he was, but he didn't trust the material of the shirt enough not to rip if it was too small, and Cas's arms very muscular. Not something he was looking at, just a fact.
'Do the shoes fit?' Dean asked, glancing down at Cas's feet, bigger than his, by about one size he guessed.
'Yes,' Castiel answered. 'Very well. Thank you.'
Cas smiled a hint of a smile and Dean's stomach did a summer sault, totally because he was happy he'd done a good job. Cas was also wearing the glasses Dean had slipped onto him ('glasses make you look smart, Dean. It's a fact,' Sam had said) and he looked … well, he looked about as dorky as he was – the dorkiness being a good thing.
'Great,' said Dean, attempting a steady smile. 'Just give me a minute.'
Dean grabbed his own outfit and disappeared into the bathroom. Castiel looked at the closed door for a moment, then down at himself again. He'd looked at himself a lot in the mirror, but he surveyed himself from a downwards point of view this time, until he felt his glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them up and returned to the table, sitting down, feeling an odd urge to fidget. To give his hands something to do, he picked up the rest of his coke and started sipping.
He was still sipping when Dean stepped out looking … smart. It's not that he hadn't looked smart before, he looped pretty smart in his FBI suits, but this was … different. He'd done his hair slightly differently. He was wearing similar, but not identical, glasses to the ones he'd given Cas. Cas was pretty sure the two of them were wearing the same shoes, too. The black jacket lying on the bed that Dean slipped on matched the black dress pants he was also wearing, and the jacket slipped on over a white shirt with three buttons undone, and no tie.
'You …' Castiel started, lowering his can, not quite knowing why he felt a strange fluttering in his stomach regain, 'look … different.'
'Speak for yourself,' Dean replied with an accompanying half laugh and lame gesture. 'So … are you ready to go stand in front of a camera?'
'Uh … one second.'
Dean watched in amusement as Castiel downed the rest of his drink in one, placed the can down and stood up. He walked over to Dean's side and Dean smiled at him. It was odd, Castiel noticed, that Dean didn't often smile much, but last week and today he'd been smiling much more. Maybe he enjoyed these kinds of easier cases … well cases that were easier than ones involving endless demons and rouge angels that was, if they could be called easier.
Castiel followed Dean out to the Impala and got into the passenger's side. For some reason he felt the need to … sit unusually carefully, just in case something happened to his smart clothing. He felt unusually stiff and glanced at Dean in the driver's seat and noticed he didn't seem to be worried about the same thing, so he attempted to relax. He probably just had to get used to the new clothes. He'd worn the same thing for years, and for the past while he'd been wearing nothing but his work uniform, so it would be a slight adjustment to get comfortable.
'When are we leaving to go to the location of the case?' Castiel asked, watching Dean's motions as he pulled out of where he was parked and headed towards the road. He wondered if Dean would teach him to drive if he asked; it's not like he had his wings anymore, and he'd need some way to get around, at least after he and Dean had finished up on this case. Then again, even if he knew how to drive, he'd still need a car.
Who knew where he'd get one of those from?
'I was thinking tomorrow morning, mid-afternoon at the latest,' Dean told him, keeping his eyes on the road. 'We have another appointment with this photographer guy in the morning to pick out our pictures and collect 'em, then we get going, arrive in WeHo a little after midnight.'
'… WeHo?'
'West Hollywood.'
'Right. So it's a long drive?'
'Thirteen hours, if traffic is good,' Dean nodded. 'Then we can check into a motel so we'll be fresh the next morning for the interview.'
'Interview?' Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows.
'Just answering some questions about why we want to move in, show our references. Nothing to worry about.'
'Are you sure about that?'
'Positive,' Dean promised. 'It'll be easy. Just follow my lead, make some references to how much being a writer sucks, we'll have our deposit down and our keys in no time.'
'If you say so,' Castiel muttered, turning to look out of the window and lapsing into silence for the rest of the journey.
The arrived outside an average looking house some minutes later and Dean parked next to the sidewalk. Castiel got out of the car shortly after Dean did, joining him by the passenger's door which was the side that faced the house and looked at him expectantly. He wasn't exactly sure of what to do in these situations.
'Is this it?' he asked.
'Yeah,' Dean confirmed. 'Independent photographer. Sam found him online. He works from home, I'm not sure what the setup is, but apparently he's pretty good.'
Castiel nodded, looking towards the house. A slight air of awkwardness was attempting to creep in, but it kept being pushed back by the fact that there shouldn't be any awkwardness to infiltrate the situation in the first place. They were going to be completely professional about this – they were, after all, professional hunters (or at least Dean was) pretending to be professional writers who happened to be a couple. No big deal.
'Does he – the photographer – does he think –?'
'That we're …? Yeah. But … don't worry about it. He thinks we're shooting a book cover and some pictures for a biography Sam's writing about us. So just … play it cool. Come on.'
Dean gestured towards the house, and the two of them headed towards it.
'How did you know I would agree to help you with this?' Castiel asked, frowning slightly, watching Dean at his side. Dean who seemed to be having no trouble with this, where Castiel was wary of accidentally overstepping boundaries which he felt as though he might have done in the past. The whole issue of personal space and upfront questions he was compelled to ask Dean, but for some reason not compelled to ask anyone else.
'Because I know you,' Dean told him matter-of-factly. 'You always want to help out. You're a good guy, Cas.'
Castiel felt a smile tugging the corner of his mouth upwards.
'Thank you, Dean,' he replied sincerely. 'And you must know by now I think the same of you.'
The compliment from Cas almost made Dean stop in his tracks, but he forced his feet to keep moving and his smile to stay relatively small and controlled as he clapped on the shoulder with an accompanying 'thanks, buddy,' and just for show, he kept the hand there when they reached and knocked on the door.
Castiel felt stiff beneath his hand. Dean wished he would relax, or at least try to. Or maybe it was Dean's hand that was stiff on Cas's shoulder. He tried to make the gesture seem as natural as possible, it wasn't as though they hadn't done the shoulder touching thing before, as they waited for the door to be answered.
They heard footsteps approaching the door before it was opened by a smiling twenty-something with dark curls, dark eyes and extremely pale looking skin despite its darker tone. He looked like he spent a lot of time indoors, yet he still looked friendly.
'Dean Winchester,' he greeted, assuming.
'Yes,' Dean confirmed, nodding and shaking the man's hand, 'and this is Castiel.'
'Or Cas,' Castiel chipped in, also shaking the hand of the stranger. 'It's a shortened version of my name. Dean came up with it.'
'Pleasure to meet you both,' the stranger said stepping back and gesturing for them to go inside. 'I'm Robert Ruiz, if you'd like to follow me we can get started – I was told you'd like to get this done as quickly as possible?'
'That'd be best,' Dean agreed, making a mental note to thank Sam again for setting everything up over the phone. 'Do I pay you before or after?'
'Tomorrow,' Robert Ruiz told him. 'When you collect them. You pay for the six you choose.'
'Right, sounds reasonable,' Dean nodded, turning to Cas for his opinion, 'right?'
Castiel raised his eyebrows, not having expected to be asked for his opinion.
'Right,' he agreed, catching on. This guy thought they were … a thing, and of course, people who were part of a … thing tended to confirm things with each other since it usually affected both of them. Right.
The room they were shown into was clearly a living room, but all of the furniture was pushed back towards three of the walls, the fourth wall and part of the floor in front of it covered completely by a green sheet, which worked as the green screen, and there were several different cameras on a table nearby.
'Is this your first photoshoot?' Robert asked them, gesturing for them to stand in front of the green screen.
'Yeah, this is the first one,' Dean told him. He still had his hand on Cas's shoulder and decided, now, to drop it. 'What do you need us to do?'
'Take a step to your … left,' Robert decided, 'and just act natural. We can try out a few different poses.'
It was a little uncomfortable at first, but they soon got the hang of it. They were able to take direction well and there were a number of different poses tried out. There were ones where they had to look at each other, at the camera, go back to back, have one look at the other while the other wasn't looking, which were all very simple. The ones that caused nerves to shoot up and down arms or zap around shoulders were, well, ones where there were arms around shoulders, or hands near each others' backs – they hovered, since the camera couldn't catch that, and moved on quickly. Thankfully, no poses that were asked of them were too … coupley, as they hadn't exactly discussed what they were and weren't willing to do yet.
They weren't there for long. All they needed was six pictures which they'd pick from the bunch tomorrow, so the session lasted an easy twenty minutes and they parted with handshakes and confirmation of tomorrow morning's early appointment time, extra pay because of the rush, general goodbyes and being shown to the door.
They didn't speak until they got to the car, starting with Castiel asking, 'what now?'
'Now,' said Dean, removing his glasses now they didn't need to look as smart, 'we go make the fake IDs. Those pictures are easier to take.'
'I remember,' Castiel told him, mimicking his actions and removing his glasses, which he placed in his pocket as he'd seen Dean to. 'I still have that ID, if I ever need to use it again.'
'Good,' said Dean, 'that's good. I didn't expect you to still have that.'
'Well, I do.'
Dean raised his eyebrows but didn't comment on it again, instead concentrating on driving.
The making of the fake IDs was much easier and involved less moving and smiling and looking at each other in a way that was probably very weird and would make looking at those finished pictures a highly uncomfortable experience. Dean seemed to know a way to make or get whatever they needed no matter where they were, and soon enough they were headed back to the motel with their IDs safely with them. Castiel looked from his passport to his driver's license several times, thinking it was ironic that he had a license but couldn't drive. He looked at the name on both, Castiel Winchester, for some reason finding satisfaction in it.
'I'll teach you, if you want,' said Dean, noting Cas looking at the license again.
'What?'
The thought had left Cas's mind as quickly as it had come, the name distracting him instead, but he managed to realize what Dean had meant before Dean had to explain.
'To drive,' Dean told him. 'Knowing how could come in handy considering … your situation.'
He didn't want to say considering you're not an angel anymore, but it was obvious that's what he'd meant. Castiel looked at him, a grateful smile appearing.
'I'd appreciate that,' he replied thankfully.
'Right. Lesson one …'
They spent the rest of the journey to the motel going over the basics. Dean pointed out everything on the dashboard and told him how it worked, then had Cas recite as much of it as he'd picked up back to him. They went back and forth a few times with the verbal exchange of information until they reached their destination, Dean promising he'd teach him more tomorrow and in the days to come.
Dean removed his jacket as soon as they got back to the room. He tossed it lightly on the bed all of his things were on, presumably his bed, then. The other one, untouched, would be Cas's. Castiel found it nice that Dean had thought of him and gotten him a bed. He knew it was just the typical, obvious thing that he technically had to do, but he thought it was nice, still. It's not like Cas had ever had a bed in a room before that was his own, apart from last week. But that had only been because of the goings on of the night, not planned, not his.
'Feel like food?' Dean asked, zipping open one of his bags and half disappearing into the bathroom, returning with his and Cas's discarded clothes from earlier.
'I wouldn't object to eating something,' Castiel replied, not about to admit to Dean that all he'd had today was a bag of pork rinds for breakfast and then the half chocolate bar Dean had given him.
'Then I'll just change and head out and grab something and you can just … chill for a while,' Dean suggested. 'Watch some TV. Change out of those clothes. Take a shower. Grab a snack from the mini-fridge to hold you over until I get back. Sound good?'
'Yes,' Castiel nodded. 'I think I'll take a shower … my hygienic practices have been … lacking, of late. It's difficult when you've got nowhere to go.'
'Then there's towels in the bathroom, and if you want something other than the same old clothes to wear you can grab something from my bag.'
'You … don't mind?'
'Nah, man,' Dean shrugged. 'And once we get settled in and on the case, we can go out and buy you a few things of your own. Sound good?'
'Yes, it does.'
'Anywhere in particular you want me to leave these?' Dean asked, gesturing the clothes Cas had been wearing earlier.
'I was hoping I could wash them somewhere,' Castiel admitted. 'I've been wearing primarily the same articles of clothing for a while now.'
'I'll shove them in my bag and we'll get that done as soon as we can. Alright?'
Castiel nodded. Dean smiled at him, warm and friendly, and Cas felt some of the warmth from Dean's smile start to radiate through his own chest. He was starting to feel more comfortable than he had in a long time, but he was also well aware of the fact that the last time he and Dean had been in close quarters together for an extended period of time, alone, excluding last week, was purgatory. He didn't know what to do with that thought.
He watched Dean stow away Cas's old clothes in his bag, turning away as Dean returned to the bathroom, this time closing the door behind him. Castiel sat down on the chair he'd been sitting on earlier, noticing his old socks were still on the ground. He picked them up and put them wrapped up in the clothes Dean had just put away and then returned to the seat. He looked around the room with a mild interest, until Dean emerged from the bathroom, put his smart clothes into his bag, grabbed his usual jacket and threw it on.
'Anything specific you want?' Dean asked, heading for the door.
'Not really,' Castiel shrugged. 'I'll have whatever you're having.'
'Good choice,' Dean grinned. 'See you in a few.'
Castiel raised a hand in farewell before Dean slipped out the door. He waited several moments before standing up and wandering over to the bathroom, where he saw the towels Dean had mentioned. He walked back out, glanced out the window and noted the Impala was gone. He didn't know exactly how long Dean would be back, and he didn't want to be caught in a position that might prove awkward for both of them, so he decided it best to take clothes into the bathroom with him to change into in there after showering.
It felt weird to go through Dean's things, even invited. Not that he hadn't done it uninvited in the past that one time. He still remembered the intricate pages of the journal, and how the pages changed and the style bled out into an array of various understandable messes once Dean took over from his father. This time he tried not to disturb things too much, grabbing the first t-shirt, grey and plain, and pair of jeans he came across. He often forgot that Dean must have more than one pair of jeans, it's just that they all looked the same. He grabbed his own shoes from earlier, too, figuring it would be weird to walk around in his borrowed socks.
He locked the bathroom door behind him. He knew that it was unnecessary, that Dean would get the hint by the closed door and not disturb him, but for some reason it felt safer, like an extra barrier or respect for privacy. It also felt odd to undress (carefully, and he carefully folded the clothes too) in the unfamiliar place. He hadn't found it quite so strange in the laundromat, where there was no one he knew, but in this shared space where it was just he and Dean even just for one day … he didn't know why he was making such a big deal about it. It was just Dean.
The shower took some tampering with to get to a decent temperature, and the water pressure was shitty, but it was better than what he'd to do lately. A face cloth, cheap soap, cheap shampoo and a sink. He'd taken off his wrist support too, and the hot water stung at his healing wound, but it was a good sort of sting. It meant that it was cleaning, and healing, he just made sure to avoid getting soap in it, using his injured hand to press the button on the walls build-in soap dispenser and his uninjured hand to catch it.
Castiel spent longer in the shower than he really needed, just to enjoy the sensation of the water cascading down over him, and the feeling of being clean. He'd honestly felt cleaner when he'd stayed in shelters while homeless, before his job and his oh-so-not-cozy sleeping spot in a sleeping bag on a hard floor. The sensation of clean clothes which he'd forgotten to appreciate earlier in the day was enjoyable, too. But he sort of wished he had clean underwear. His had faded from white to a dull grey almost like his borrowed t-shirt.
When he exited the bathroom, leaving his used towel folded and separate from the rest of the supplied towels, he noticed Dean was back.
'Hey,' Dean greeted him. 'You can leave your clothes by the bag,' he told him, pointing at the bag which had been moved from the bed Dean was sitting on to the floor.
Dean removed his headphones from where he'd been listening to his iPod and stood up, grabbing a bag from the night stand. There were two bags on it. He handed the one he'd picked up to Castiel.
'What's this?' Castiel questioned, opening up the bag and seeing an array of things inside.
'Some things you probably don't have, or if you do they're probably back in the place you work … or worked, I guess. You planning on quitting or just disappearing?'
'You're supposed to give a week's notice before you leave,' Castiel said uneasily. 'Perhaps I should just vanish completely.'
'Ah, my forte,' Dean joked, grabbing the other bag and heading towards the table while Castiel went through the bag he'd been handed.
In the bag, there was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a facecloth, deodorant, a razor and a pack of blades. It was one of those good razors that could be used again and again indefinitely, whereas the store Cas had worked in didn't sell those, so he'd been using disposables. They were usually good for one or two decent uses, and there were ten in a packet, but the one Dean had gotten him looked better.
'Thank you,' Castiel said sincerely, placing the bag of things that were his on the table beside the bed that was, and walking over to join Dean at the table, where Dean had placed out the food that was his.
'No need to thank me,' Dean replied, 'just the basics everyone should have. And … listen,' he said, lowering the burger he'd already started eating, 'I didn't say it last time, but I'm sorry. For just kicking you out with no explanation. It wasn't fair.'
'Dean, it's fine,' Castiel replied, wanting to wait until they'd finished talking to eat, but his hunger getting the better of him and he started opening up the fries Dean had gotten him. 'I understand. You did give me an explanation, you said I had to –'
'I bullshitted you an explanation,' Dean interrupted. Castiel's eyebrows raised. 'I didn't want to do that. I wanted you to stay. But you just … couldn't.'
Castiel didn't want to ask why. He didn't want to sound like he was … trying to accuse Dean of something. He was over it, truly, he'd been over it almost the second he laid eyes on Dean last week when he showed up with his stupid easy grin.
'There's something I can't tell you. I want to, but I can't. And that thing is the reason you couldn't stay and you're just going to have to trust me.'
'I do,' Castiel informed him, thinking Dean should have known that by now. 'I trust you.'
'So we're good?'
'We're always good,' Castiel promised. 'Besides. This, you being so good to me, you choosing me to help you with this case, would make up for it if it wasn't already forgotten.'
'Well, as I said. You're the only one I can trust with this. And I'm just trying to look out for you. I felt like shit for days after I did that to you, man. I can't even imagine how you felt.'
'You shouldn't feel bad,' Castiel urged. 'Please. I told you, it's forgotten.'
'Alright, goo – damn, you went through those fries fast.'
Castiel had been rapidly munching during every second he hadn't been speaking.
'I'm hungry,' he shrugged.
'Did you even eat today?' Dean probed.
'Yes, of course.'
'Besides the half-bar I left you?'
'… Yes.' He couldn't hold Dean's unconvinced gaze. 'Some pork rinds.'
'Jesus Christ,' Dean muttered. 'Here.'
He nudged his barely touched fries towards Cas.
'Dean, no, I'm fine.'
'You're starving. Eat them. I still have the rest of my burger and there's some shit that came with the room.'
'They charge for that.'
'So? Everyone charges for everything. Welcome to America. Next stop: air taxes. Only two thousand breaths a day or it'll cost you extra.'
Castiel laughed and figured he may as well stop fighting it. After all, he was starving.
'Thank you, Dean.'
'Don't worry about it. Just eat.'
Castiel did as requested, and felt better for having done so.
It was the best meal Cas had had in a week. He did feel slightly bad that Dean had given up the majority of his fries, but by persistent offering, he'd managed to give a few back, although he could tell Dean was reluctant to take from him. There'd been a few instances over the years where Cas was hit hard with just how nice of a person Dean was, and this was one of them.
'So,' Dean began, once they were both full, pulling his chair around to be closer to Cas like he'd done earlier, 'we'll need to talk about … stuff.'
Cas understood what the "stuff" was immediately. Boundaries. Circumstances. All part of a situation Castiel still wasn't completely sure of how he'd ended up in. It had happened remarkably fast, the day happening as if playing out on a screen in front of him, everything changing with Dean's first statement when he'd entered the store earlier that day.
'I agree,' Castiel said determinedly. 'I don't want to do anything that in any way makes you uncomfortable. I've been told I've done so in the past.'
'Told by who?'
'… You.'
Dean frowned, as if it were brand new information.
'When?'
'It's been a while. A few years ago was the last time. Something about personal space.'
'Oh, right,' Dean muttered, looking as though he didn't really want to remember it. 'I was kind of a dick then. Ignore that past guy. He's a dick.'
'No, he's not,' Castiel corrected, defending the past version of Dean as if Dean was still the same person he was back then. Well, technically he was the same person, but … he wasn't the same.
Dean seemed sort of … touched, actually, looking down at the ground and refusing to make eye contact with the obvious glimmer of a smile.
'Thank you,' he mumbled.
'I presume,' Castiel went on, 'that personal space is something we won't have the luxury of having in the coming months.'
'You've got that right,' Dean agreed, along with a slight almost sinister chuckle. 'One bedroom, one bathroom. And I'll take the couch.'
'No, no,' Castiel said quickly. 'I will. It's your case.'
'And you've been sleeping on the floor.'
'But you're used to sleeping in a bed.'
'Fine, we'll alternate. Deal?'
'I can get on board with that.'
'Great.' Dean had a weird urge to shake on the deal they'd made, but it wasn't necessary. So, he continued, 'and there's the, you know, pretending to be a couple part. We passed today for the photoshoot thing, but that was like, a half hour long. To pass long-term we'll have to do … stuff.'
'Stuff?'
'Nothing that you're uncomfortable with,' Dean clarified, very quick to rush to that defense.
'No, nor you,' Castiel agreed. 'I'm … up for whatever needs to be done. I assume … hand holding will be involved?'
'That's the main thing we'll have to do, probably,' Dean agreed with him. 'And probably getting up close. Arms around each other, that kind of thing. Stop me if you're against any of this.'
'Keep going.'
'And when talking and around people we'll need to just … randomly touch in weird places we wouldn't usually touch. Like …'
Dean reached out and lightly placed his hand on Cas's knee. Cas's first instinct was to jerk it away, but Dean had removed it before he could do that stupid thing he wouldn't purposefully do.
'And generally we need to actually look like we're together. Like, we need to look happy and not like we're just here to kill a gross ass homophobic or transphobic or whatever-else-phobic ghost. Can you do that? I know it might be hard to look at me like you actually like me, let alone anything else.'
Dean flashed a smile and Castiel smiled appreciatively in the face of the joke.
'I think I can manage that,' Cas replied, with a hint of a …
'Was that a smirk, Castiel?'
'Maybe,' Castiel replied, doing it again and for some reason highly enjoying the use of his full first name.
Dean looked impressed, his eyebrows raising as if he didn't expect it and was maybe … enjoying it.
'Well, that's certainly not something you see every day. So, you're on bored with everything?'
'Everything so far.'
'And if there's something that bothers you …'
'I'll let you know straight away.'
'And if there's ever anything you need just let me know. Anything. You got that?'
Castiel couldn't tell if he was implying something or just stressing his point, but either way, he nodded. He greatly appreciated what Dean was doing for him more than he appreciated anything else he'd done in the past. Saving his life was something that came and went daily before, when he had something to save. But now, he had nothing, not his powers, not his status as an angel, not a single thing that could point him in the direction of true survival in life. Nothing but Dean, he guessed.
'I promise I'll try not to … annoy you. Or get in your way at all,' Castiel added, remembering that humans didn't seem to like being bugged in any way.
'You're never in my way,' Dean assured him. 'Come on, man. Don't go all invisible on me like you're not even there. Relax. Hang out. It's almost like you're shy.'
'I don't mean to be,' Castiel frowned, genuinely surprised to hear that. 'I'm just trying not to overstep. The last time we spent an extended period of time together was purgatory, and there we had a purpose more solid than … going off to a haunted apartment building and living in it until a ghost shows up.'
'I know,' Dean nodded, looking away as he thought about it. 'This is all pretty new to me too. We can just figure this out as we go along. It's not like we're strangers, man. You're, like, the best friend I've ever had.'
'And you're one of the only, and the best friend I've ever had. We just haven't seemed to have had a traditional friendship.'
'Who needs tradition?' Dean asked rhetorically, raising his eyebrows. He tried to study Cas's face, and sighed. 'Come on, Cas. I know there's something wrong. Spit it out.'
Castiel looked away. There were a few things going through the back of his mind, some concerns he'd had that had flashed through the front but he'd pushed right back again. They were stupid, and he was stupid for thinking them, of course, this was Dean and he and Dean could tell each other anything, it was just …
'I'm human,' Castiel stated, nowhere near by way of an explanation, not without him getting into it first, which he did before Dean replied, 'and that's something completely new to me. I've always been an angel, and that's how you've perceived me. And now to be this, and have human needs and tendencies, I don't want that to change how you see me.'
Dean frowned at him and he regretted saying it immediately. Until Dean's features softened again.
'I've never seen you as just an angel,' Dean told him, as if Cas were insane. 'Except maybe at the beginning. But you're just … you're Cas. Human, angel, robot, Pokémon, you're just you. You just have no powers and need to do the things everyone else I've ever known does. And what difference does that make to me?'
Castiel shrugged.
'I just thought … but …' he paused, sighing, but it was a sigh of relief. 'Nothing. It doesn't matter. I was honest with you, and it helped me a lot.'
'And honestly is what we need,' Dean reminded him, reaching forward to clap him on the shoulder in a friendly manor. 'Completely open. Completely honest. Completely comfortable. We're going to be living together after all – let's not make it a bad experience hiding behind masks.'
'So you really have no problems with my humanity.' It was more of a statement than a question, and Cas was glad he'd finished questioning it.
'None,' Dean promised, yet again. 'I do have some rules for us living together, though. And one for tonight.'
'I'll follow your rules. What are they?'
'They're pretty simple,' Dean shrugged. 'If you use the last of the shaving cream, tell me so one of us can buy more. If you use the last of the toilet paper, put out a new roll and just for tonight, please tell me if you snore so I can fall asleep before you like last week, otherwise it'll take me forever to get to sleep and give me war flashbacks to the time before I figured out if you roll Sam onto his side the snoring stops.'
Castiel huffed out a laugh, turning his head away in his amusement, practically able to feel Dean's raised eyebrows and rarely-seen shit-eating-grin that yup, when he turned back, were there.
'As far as I know, I don't snore,' Castiel promised. 'Those are all your rules?'
'Yeah. Well those and just have common sense, I suppose. I know you've got that so I don't need to worry about it.'
'No, you don't,' Castiel assured, his accompanying word-defining smile suddenly turning into one of pure gratitude as he, like Dean had done a few times today and like he himself had done in the past, reached out and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. 'Thank you, Dean, for everything. And for understanding. And … accepting.'
'There's nothing not to accept,' Dean shrugged, his face lighting up as Cas dropped his hand. 'Man, this is gonna be great. A break from Sam, we get to hang out, and all we have to do for like a month is wait for a ghost to show up so we can kill it. Unless we can summon it or something before then. But this should be great.'
'I hope it will be,' Castiel smiled.
'So,' said Dean, initiating the end of the discussion, 'feel like going out or should we stay in for the rest of the night?'
'We could go out if you'd like,' Cas shrugged. 'Though there's not much to do around here. I've noticed that when walking around.'
'In it is,' Dean decided. 'Feel like watching a few movies? Maybe kick back with a couple beers, some snacks … there's probably nothing good on pay-per-view unless you count the porn, but we could swing by a store and see if we can rent some DVDs. There's a slot for them on the side of the TV.'
Castiel nodded, smiling genuinely. That sounded like an interesting evening and something he had yet to experience.
'That sounds nice,' he nodded again, enthusiastically. 'I'd like that.'
'Great,' Dean grinned. 'You coming? You can pick the snacks. Unless you have shitty taste in snacks.'
'I think you'd be surprised by the kinds of things I'd be likely to pick,' Castiel told him matter-of-factly. 'I've been living almost exclusively off of cheap off-brand junk food, so I've acquired a talent for picking out what tastes good for longer after consuming it in large quantities.'
'Is that so?' Dean asked, looking rather impressed by Cas's biggest talent. 'Well, then. It's all in your hands, buddy.'
Castiel smirked for the third time that day. He saw Dean's eyebrows lift in what was seemingly pleasure, which only prolonged that smirk as they made their way to the car, for a car journey less silent without the palpable tension than those earlier in the day.
The first place they went was a small DVD store where they could rent movies for a dollar to three dollars, depending on the movie, for one night. Dean told Cas to pick out anything that caught his eye, and Dean would do the same, the first movie being The Dark Knight Rises picked by Dean. Castiel's eyes were drawn to the one with the man and the bear, Ted, so that was second. Dean also picked out The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, added an 'uh, don't tell Sam I watched this, alright?' and Castiel picked the fourth movie, Just Go With It, 'because it seems like that's what we're doing, isn't it? We're just going with whatever comes along in our situation.'
Next they hit up the nearest store that looked as though it might sell candy and got an entire bag of crap. Pringles, pork rinds, Doritos, chocolate, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and three different tubs of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream, along with a six pack of beer and then a jar of instant coffee to help wake them up to have first thing in the morning using the cheap kettle in their room to boil the water.
'You do realize we have no freezer and we'll have to eat all three of these tubs or else they'll melt, right?' Dean asked as they left the store together, Castiel holding the bag.
All Cas said in response was, 'dibs on the chocolate fudge,' which left Dean wondering where the hell he'd heard the word "dibs" and how he knew what it meant.
