12 December, 2013
'A few days' of couch surfing at the Winchester household dissolved into a month before Castiel even knew what had hit him. It was so easy to fall into a routine alongside the two brothers that the simple fact of him no longer looking for an apartment didn't even register.
Mornings were always the most hectic. When he wasn't working the night shift, Castiel was the first one to wake up, much before the sun decided to peek its head over the horizon. On the rare days that he got to go to work after nine in the morning, he would stand in front of the stove with single-minded concentration as he scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and tried his damnedest not to let bacon grease splatter on his bare chest.
Dean would stumble into the kitchen next, his nose held up comically as if he were trailling an imaginary scent trail toward the breakfast. He never failed to toss an off-handed comment at Castiel about how he existed in a constant state of 'sex hair' when he wasn't in uniform, and then would slump into one of the rickety chairs at the table. More often then not, he looked like death warmed over, but Castiel was never sure if that had more to do with being up all night working the still, or the ridiculous amounts of 'shine he consumed himself. Probably a bit of both...
Today was one of those mornings, thankfully, and Castiel chuckled at Dean's joke, poured him a cup of coffee just the way that Dean liked it and pressed it into the other man's hand with a muttered 'asshole'. He was stirring the pan of scrambled eggs when he heard the distinct 'thud' of Sam walking into the door jamb.
"You know, Sammy, if you'd get your damned head outta that book for thirty seconds, you'd probably have less bumps and bruises." Dean scolded, his 'fatherly concern' thinly veiled behind a more brother-like barb. Sam scowled at him over the top of the book with big block lettering declaring 'Advanced Chemistry'.
"You know I have a test today, Dean!" He grumbled, dropping into his own chair and brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Dean simply shook his head and went back to burying himself in his coffee mug.
"Are you prepared for the test?" Castiel asked politely (one of them had to, and Dean was obviously dropping the conversational ball there). Sam smiled at him and pulled a nervous shrug.
"I guess. I...I dunno, we're learning some pretty hard stuff, but I think that I've got it figured out. I'll just be happy when this is over." Sam sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck.
"M'sure you'll blow 'em away, Sammy." Dean smiled as he rose from his place at the table to refill his already drained coffee mug. As he passed by the stove, he reached out to snag a piece of bacon off of the plate next to Castiel. Cas rapped the top of his knuckles with a spatula and scowled at him. "Sorry, dear." Dean scoffed, smirking as he popped the piece of bacon he'd managed to hold on to into his mouth.
"Go away, or you're not getting any breakfast." Castiel pointed towards the table with his spatula, and Dean held his hands up in surrender with an amused chuckle. He went back to checking the eggs, thankful that neither of the brothers could see the blush that he was sure was painting his cheekbones. The whole scene was just a bit too domestic for him to be able to brush off the attraction that he'd been harboring for the older Winchester. Sammy had become like his own brother in the short time that he'd been living at the house, but Dean...Dean was something else. Always had been.
"Earth to Sheriff Space Case!" Dean's deep voice snapped him from his thoughts and he realized that the pan in front of him had begun smoking slightly.
"Shit!" He barked over Dean and Sam's laughter, moving to quickly switch off the stove and move the pan off the burner. Luckily, most of the eggs were still salvagable, and he plated up their food quickly, settling into the chair that he'd declared 'his'. Dean went to work devouring his plate, food seeming to be the only thing that got the man to keep his mouth shut.
Castiel pushed away the voice in the back of his head that practically screamed I can think of other ways to shut him up, and chose to focus on eating his toast before his mouth decided to unconciously speak the thought without his consent.
He had just started nibbling on the bacon when he noticed that both of the others had completely cleared their plates. Sam glanced down at his phone and cursed quietly before he hopped up, threw his dishes in the sink, and snagged his bag off the floor quickly. Castiel slid his plate across the table to where Dean was practically salivating while looking at it. Dean grunted his thanks and began shoveling down the rest of his food as well.
"I gotta go, Jess just texted me and said that she's waiting out front. She's gonna give me a ride home after school. I'll see you this afternoon, Dean. Have a good shift, Cas, be safe. Love you guys!" Sam called, jogging out of the house and climbing into his girlfriend's car. Cas stared at the front door, his jaw hanging open of its own volition.
"You alright?" Dean questioned, his voice low and his eyebrow quirked skyward.
"I...uh, yes. I'm alright." He shook his head and turned to face Dean. Crystalline green eyes stared back at him curiously, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. "Sam...Sam said he loves us. As in you and me."
"Yeah? So?"
"So...I don't know, isn't that a little weird? He just met me a month ago." Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Look, I don't tell this to most people, Cas, and Sammy don't tell it to anyone, so listen close." Cas leaned foward, bracing himself on his elbows on the table to make sure that he didn't miss a word that Dean was about to say. "When we were kids, our dad...well, let's just say he wasn't up for any father of the year awards. Our mom died in a fire at her job when I was four, Sammy was just a baby, and it really fucked Dad up. He turned to the booze, and I tell you, he was a nasty old drunk. Used to beat on me, sometimes he beat on Sammy but..." Dean's eyes went misty for a moment, and Castiel knew that he wasn't in that moment anymore.
"Dean, it's okay, you don't-."
"I know I don't have to. I want to, so shut up and listen." Dean interuppted, shaking Castiel's hand off his forearm. "I used to beg him not to hit Sammy. He was just a kid, I knew he couldn't handle as much as me."
"You were just a kid too, Dean." Cas whispered, his voice gravelly.
"I know, but...I don't know. Dad used to tell me 'watch out for Sammy' when he'd go away from work. It's always been my job to watch out for him, and if that meant taking a few more punches, then that was what I had to do." He gave a sad chuckle and fixed his gaze on the table where he was absently picking at a scratch in the wood with his thumbnail. "Anyway, when Dad died, I told Sammy that it was just going to be me and him against the world. Forever. Sam don't trust people easily, Cas. So, if he says that he loves you, don't question it, and you best not betray it. 'Cause if you hurt Sammy, I'mma have to kick your ass. Clear?"
"Dean, I-."
"I said, clear?" He growled, his eyes boring into Cas. Castiel nodded his agreement.
"Yes, Dean."
"Good. Now that we got that outta the way, how'd you sleep?"
"I slept well. That couch tends to grow on you." Castiel chuckled. It was a bullshit lie, and he was sure that Dean knew that too. There was a spring on that second cushion that Castiel's lower back had gotten to know intimately, and the cushions threatened to swallow him whole every time he shifted in the slightest, but he wasn't going to complain. A place to stay was a place to stay.
"I've been thinking about that, Cas. Why don't," Dean paused, dry swallowing so loudly that his tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth. "We've got that spare room, ain't no reason that you can't set up shop in there."
"Dean, I...this was only supposed to be temporary and you guys have already helped me out so much, I can't expect-."
"You're one stubborn sonuvabitch, you know that?" Dean gave one of those deep, belly laughs that Castiel was positive were the most beautiful sounds in the world. "It's just a room. You're already sacking out on my couch every night, how much of a difference does crashing in the spare room make?"
"You at least have to let me start paying rent, or something, Dean. This is too much." Dean considered him for a long moment, leaning back in his chair and kicking his bare feet up on the chair that Sam had previously been in.
"Tell you what, you keep cooking these breakfasts on the days that you can, make sure Sammy and I don't end up killing each other one of these days, and make sure that my delivery routes are clear of Johnny Law when I make runs and we'll be square. Sound fair?"
Castiel was silent as he stared back at Dean. Clear his delivery routes? It wasn't like Cas didn't already make an effort to make sure that the other patrol was on the other side of town when he knew Dean was making a run (unintentionally of course, because he was an officer of the law and would never betray that...). He was also pretty sure that Dean scheduled his runs for times that Cas was on shift. So, really, that wasn't much of a difference from their routine already, but...this was making it an official, concious decision to aide Dean in bootlegging illegal 'shine. Fuck it. He thought to himself and thrust his hand foward.
"Deal." He conceeded. Dean gave him a slow, dangerous (seductive) smirk and shook his hand. Castiel did his best to ignore the warmth coming from the other man's palm and the way his callouses born from years of handling his gun scraped over Dean's farmer's callouses perfectly.
"Well then, Sheriff Novak, you got yourself a place to live." Dean laughed to himself when he pulled his hand away, after lingering far too long to be socially acceptable. "Then again, it ain't like you been exactly lookin' for a new place."
"What? No, I..."
"C'mon, Cas. I see you every day. You ain't picked up a newspaper in two weeks. Trust me, I'm not complaining, I'm just sayin' that you've been living here for a month already." Dean stood and grabbed both of the dishes to wash them. Castiel stared after him, floundering for something to say in response but coming up empty. "Y'know," Dean started, not even turning away from the sink to look at him. "You could sit there all day trying to find some way to tell me I'm wrong, but you're going to be late." Cas looked down at his watch and cursed.
He scurried through the house, jumping into the shower and scrubbing his hair and body so quickly that he was pretty sure that he almost scraped his skin off. Three minutes after stepping under the spray, he was wrenching the knobs off, throwing a fluffy towel (his own contribution to the tatter and bleach-stained ones that Sam and Dean had been tolerating) around his waist, and drying off quickly. He threw on his last pair of clean underwear (thankful that he had the next day off so that he could do some laundry), and slipped into his uniform pants.
He stepped out into the living room, snagging his duty belt, Maglite, and badge off of the table beside the couch. After tightening the belt and hosltering his Maglite, he slipped on his undershirt and went about strapping into his Kevlar. He had himself turning in a circle, trying to hook the last velcro strap on the back when Dean emerged, chuckling under his breath and stepping closer.
"Here, let me." He muttered, placing a hand to stop Castiel from spinning around again, and easily hooked the strap. Cas told himself that the room was spinning from the assault on his equilibrium. Definitely not the fact that he could smell the fresh, clean scent of Dean's aftershave at this proximity.
"Thank you, Dean." He replied. Dean smiled and clapped him on the back before moving back towards the kitchen.
"So when you get home tonight, we'll move all your stuff out of the barn and into your room. I'll set up the bed before I make my run this afternoon." Castiel stared at his retreating back. Home. His room. A shudder ran through him, but he brushed it off with a quick mental reminder that he was going to be late. He slipped his uniform shirt on and buttoned it with practised ease before hooking the badge through the fabric over his chest. He patted down his belt and then paused, looking around the living room once.
"Dean?" He called, waiting for the other man to step back into the living room.
"Hmm?" Dean questioned around his toothbrush, toothpaste foaming and dribbling down his chin to fall on his bare chest.
"I, uh, have you seen my cuffs?" He questioned when he could regulate his own breathing again. Dean hummed thoughtfully, then held up his index finger and disappearing. He reentered the living room thirty seconds later with the silver cuffs dangling from his index finger. Castiel's mouth went dry. There was an ever present playful glint in Dean's eyes as he stepped close enough to tuck the cuffs into their pouch on Castiel's belt and snapped it closed. "Th-thank you." He stammered. Dean nodded and grunted around the tooth brush, smiling softly. "I'll see you tonight. Be careful on your run, Dean. I'll clear the way."
Dean nodded his thanks and Castiel headed out, snagging his thigh holster off of the hook by the door and strapping it to his leg, holstering his Glock confidently and snapping it securely. He slipped into the front seat of the cruiser and took a deep breath to calm himself before pulling out of the driveway and heading out for another shift.
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The shift went by relatively quickly, until the clock reached four o'clock. The sun had already started to sink below the horizon, and it was making Castiel long for the longer days of summer, but he knew that it was good for Dean. Early sunsets meant that he could get his deliveries out of the way sooner, which meant that there was less chance of Sam asking to tag along. Even though Dean knew that Sam was aware of their little...'family business', Castiel knew that Dean didn't want Sam indulging in it.
"You're so much smarter then that, Sammy. You're gonna graduate and go to that fancy blue-collar school you're always raving about. Gonna be a lawyer so you can defend my ass when I fuck up." Dean would always tell him. Sam, of course, would always roll his eyes and shake the comment off, but he knew that Dean meant well.
Castiel sighed heavily and shifted in the cruiser seat, tired from sitting in one position for so long. He had been parked in an empty parking lot, trying to catch speeders for the past hour, with no action whatsoever. His walkie crackled to life beside him.
"How goes it on your end, Sheriff?" Came the voice of his deputy, Kevin. Good kid, really, but Castiel still thought that he was a little bit odd. There was something about the boy that didn't exactly scream 'law enforcement' to him. Castiel pictured him in the lingustics department of some university, not hunched over the steering wheel of a Crown Vic way past its prime across this podunk town. Dean told him that it was a funding issue with his parents, and a scholarship deadline that had come a week too early.
"Nothing to speak of yet, what about you?" Castiel replied, tapping the walkie against his forehead as he waited for a response.
"About the same. Couple speeders, couple of kids loitering in the back lot of the high school. Looks like all those high ends criminals are hiding out on us." Kevin laughed. Castiel chuckled in reponse before keying his own walkie in.
"Hey, don't jinx us. I'd like to get home at a decent hour tonight, I don't want to be stuck mediating some domestic dispute until two in the morning. You better knock on wood or something like that."
"I'm not nearly superstitious enough for that. I think I'm going to head back to the department, see if I can get on Ellen's nerves."
"Ten-four. Be careful, women like Ellen would eat you alive, Kev." Kevin's laughter echoed back through the walkie like the crackle of a camp fire.
"Ten-four. If I'm not there when you punch out tonight, look for the body."
"Not a chance, kid, I warned you."
"Way to have my back, boss. Over and out." Castiel laughed and laid the walkie back into the cradle between the seats. He scrolled through the calls list on his on-board computer slowly and grumbled to himself. He was about to resort to playing that Sudoku game that Dean had downloaded onto his iPhone for him when the phone buzzed on the dash. He flicked the unlock bar and read the message.
Dean Winchester
R u busy?
Not at the moment, I'm sitting in the old mill parking lot.
He waited for a few minutes with no reply to his message before frowning at the screen and typing out another message.
Why, what's up?
The reply was almost immediate.
Dean Winchester
Nothin, finished the run, gonna grab coffee, u want 1?
Castiel blushed down at the phone and typed out a response.
That sounds wonderful, Dean, thank you.
He exited the messaging app and cued up a Sudoku puzzle. He was volleying between a seven and a three for the bottom left corner when the roar of Dean's Impala filled the air. A smirk stretched across his face and he reached up to turn the cruiser off. When he finally climbed out of the driver's side, Dean was leaning against his Baby's hood, his legs crossed at the ankles so that his scuffed cowboy boots hooked over one another. With his arms crossed over his chest, and a leather jacket clinging to the broad sweep of his shoulders, Dean was the picture of perfection. His dark hair was lacking its usual gel, and the short bangs curled over his forehead softly.
"Hey." Dean rasped with a small smile, extending a steaming paper cup of coffee. Castiel took the coffee gratefully, and smiled at him.
"Hello, Dean."
"How's your shift going? Catchin' all the bad guys?" Dean questioned, sipping his own coffee. Castiel laughed and shook his head.
"Not so much. Kevin was getting more play on his side of town." Dean laughed loudly and looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Why didn't you just switch grids with him? Give yourself something to do?"
"Had to earn my keep." Cas smiled. "See, my roommate has this business and he needs a wide flight plan to operate that business. So I get stuck with the boring end of town while he gets to play Bo Duke."
"Oh, so you can make a Dukes of Hazzard reference, but you don't understand when I make Andy Griffith Show reference?" Dean chuckled, shaking his head.
"I do watch television, Dean. Contrary to your belief."
"S'that why you haven't seen a single Star Wars movie?" Dean quirked a brow skyward as he stared at him. Castiel laughed in response and took a long drink of his coffee.
"Well, you've got me there."
"We've still got to rectify that situation one of these days." Dean muttered absently. The men sat in comfortable silence until Dean turned to look at Cas so quickly that it made Cas jump nearly a foot. "How much long do you have left on your shift?" Castiel looked at his watch, squinting in the dim light of a street lamp.
"About fifteen minutes." Dean sighed and ran his free hand over the back of his neck.
"You think Kevin would mind if you cut out a few minutes early? I mean, you're the Sheriff, who's gonna yell at you?" He gave Cas a smirk. He was halfway back to the cruiser to radio Kevin and tell him that he was heading home before he realized that he probably should not be that easily manipulated by his very, very male, and (from what all the evidence stated) very straight roommate. He shook the thought from his head and had a short conversation with an all too cheerful Kevin to let him know that he was heading home and that he'd see him after his days off.
"Looks like we're all set." He smiled at Dean as he walked back to the Impala. "Now, do you plan on telling me why you wanted me to neglect my responsibility to the people of this fine county?" Dean shook his head, raced around the hood and hopped into the driver's seat. Cas, rolling his eyes the entire way, followed suit and slipped into the passenger's seat. Dean still had that boyish smirk that Castiel loved so much plastered across his face when they tore out of the parking lot and down the abandoned back road.
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The speed that the Impala was reaching on the winding back road should have rightfully terrified Castiel. Especially being an officer of the law...but, for some unknown reason, with Dean behind the wheel he was completely unafraid. Dean had cranked some classic rock song that Castiel had never heard as soon as they had pulled away.
"It's Kansas, Cas! How do you not know 'Carry On Wayward Son'? It's a classic!" He'd raved, taking one hand off the steering wheel to beat out the drum rhythm in the air, and occasionally throwing in an air guitar solo. Castiel had just smiled and shook his head as he pretended to be looking out the windshield instead of watching the boyish excitement on Dean's face.
They drove for quite a while, crossing over two different county lines before Dean pulled onto a dirt road that didn't look like it had been driven on since asphalt had been invented. Castiel's brow furrowed as he looked across the open field that they pulled into. Dean was throwing the car in park and jumping out before Cas had a chance to question it. He followed suit slowly, watching as Dean grabbed a blanket from the trunk and threw it on the hood.
"After you." He gestured for Cas to crawl onto the hood with a broad sweep of his arm and a charming smile. Who was Cas to deny that? With a surprisingly small amount of effort, he found himself situated with his back against the windshield and his legs stretched out on the blanket. Dean climbed up beside him and reclined against the windshield, folding his arms behind his head.
"Not that I don't enjoy the occasional spontaneous road trip, but what are we doing out here, Dean?" He questioned, his voice far quiter then he had intended it to be. There was something about the silence of the vast field that had that effect on him.
"Shut up for two seconds and I'll tell you. Stubborn ass." Dean grumbled, frowning down at him. He extended his arm, index finger point upward towards the sky. "That is why we're here."
Castiel swung his gaze skyward, and every ounce of air in his lungs whooshed out when he saw the sky streaked with flares of lights. The meteors fell one after the other, illuminating the velvet black sky and blocking out the shimmer of several stars each time. He watched in sheer wonder as the blanket of meteors continued.
"Dean, that's..." He paused, grasping for the word to describe it. "This is phenomenal. How did you know about this?" He felt more then saw Dean pulling a shrug beside him.
"Guy down at the salvage yard, Bobby, was telling me he heard something about it on the radio. I figured it'd be worth a look, and I know you're into all that astrology crap."
"That's actually really thoughtful, Dean. Thank you." Castiel murmured. His cheeks hurt from the sheer force of the smile on his face.
"Eh, don't mention it." Dean tried to brush the gratitiude off as if it was something that people did all the time. He didn't understand, though. People didn't do things that were nice for Castiel. They just...didn't. He turned his head to look at the other man, watching the reflection of the meteors in glossy green eyes.
"I mean it, Dean. Thank you." Dean faced him as well, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Okay...alright, Cas. You're, uh, you're welcome." He nodded once. "I have to admit though, this isn't the only reason I brought you out here." Dean continued, hopping off the hood and pacing in front of it. Castiel tilted his head to the side before jumping down himself and standing in front of the car.
"Dean?" He rasped, his voice suddenly seeming to be trying to run away from him. Dean raked his hands through his hair roughly. Castiel had come to know it as a nervous tick that he had, and frankly it was rather endearing most of the time, but at that moment it was a little nerve racking. "Dean." He repeated, quite a bit stronger that time.
"I just...don't...don't hate me, okay?" Castiel let out a nervous laugh. Dean stared back at him with eyes so honest and open that it physically hurt his heart.
"Dean, you're...you're my best friend, I could never hate you." He whispered, afraid that if he spoke to loudly he might spook Dean like a wild mustang.
"That's why I'm afraid you will, Cas. I don't...I don't want to fuck this up, but I...I can't anymore, Cas." He growled, his fists balled at his sides as he stopped his pacing, standing close enough that Cas caught another whiff of that clean, crisp aftershave. But there was something more to the scent now, something he knew as purely Dean. It was heady, and thick, and smelled of pine, leather, and the smell he remembered from camping with his brothers once. He inhaled deeply until his head was swimming with the need for air.
"You can't what, Dean?" He asked. Dean shook his head softly and gave him a gentle smile.
"I just can't." He took another step closer, moving into Cas until he felt the cool dig of the Impala against his back. Cas tilted his head back to look up into Dean's eyes, searching his face for some sign of insanity taking over his rational thinking. "Please, Cas," Dean whispered, dropping his forehead to Castiel's and closing his eyes. "Please don't hate me..." But he didn't give Castiel a chance to respond before he pressed their lips together.
Kissing Dean Winchester was nothing like the blood sport that Castiel had imagined it would be. It was tentative and shy, and a thousand times better then anything he had imagined. His fingers were shaking as they curled into the rough leather of Dean's jacket and pulled him closer.
The whine that clawed at the back of his throat proved to be Dean's breaking point and Castiel found himself wrapped into the aggressive, blood boiling kiss that he had anticipated. Teeth were nipping at his chapped lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, and allowing a warm tongue to sweep into his mouth before he could even conciously react. Dean's right hand hand snaked it's way up to tug at the wild tendrils of Castiel's hair, while the left remained around his waist and kept him pinned to Dean's chest.
When the edges of his mind began to blur from lack of oxygen, he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against Dean's as he tried to calm his gasping breaths. Dean's eyes raked over his face, panic written clearly in them.
"Are we...Cas?" He rasped, his own breath coming in short pants.
"You think too much, Dean Winchester." Dean let out a breathy laugh and carded his fingers through Castiel's hair.
"That's the first time that anyone has ever accused me of that." Castiel smirked at him and thumbed across the stubbled line of Dean's jaw.
"I already told you, Dean. I don't hate you. If anything, I'm thankful that you finally came around."
"You know, if you would have clued me in, we could have had a lot more fun this last month." Dean said with a wink. Castiel chuckled, and hauled him in for another kiss.
The last thought that he had before the haze of lust washed over his brain was that the meteor shower was nothing compared to the beauty of Dean's smile melting against his own and the feel of their hearts hammering in tandem.
