A/n: I GOT A WEEK LATE! I'm so so sorry! Now I have vacation! I'll write everyday!
The trio had been driving for half a day now. Castiel was tapping his foot against the floor of the car again which meant he needed to use the bathroom. Since the first time Castiel had realized that he had bodily needs now, he had been perplexed. Dean had felt close to harassed as he had stood outside the bathroom shouting instructions to a very confused Castiel.
"Cas, you can just tell me, you know," Dean said, pulling up at a gas station.
The second Dean stopped the car, Castiel bolted towards the bathroom stalls.
Dean chuckled, filling up his Baby with gas. He gestured to Sam to get them supplies from the store.
Castiel came back, looking relieved and stood beside Dean. Dean chuckled slightly at the sight. Castiel shoved at him, heartlessly but smiled inspite of himself.
"You have to admit, you have a problem with your… Bodily functions," Dean said, giving Castiel a sideways glance.
Satisfied with the amount of petrol, he pulled the nozzle out and set it back. He heard Castiel sigh and turned to meet his eyes.
"I undermined your struggles," Castiel said, looking apologetic.
"Dude, if you think peeing is a struggle, wait till you get blue balls right before a hunt."
"Blue balls?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.
Explaining blue balls to an ex-angel of the Lord? Awkward… Dean looked away, pretending to be deep in thought.
"Uh… Y'know… When you… Uh… Need to… Um… Relieve… Your-Sammy! Did you get Pringles?" Dean had never been happier to see his brother. Okay, that was a lie… But still. He was happy to see his moose of a brother.
"Dean, you hate Pringles. Your hand gets stuck in the box," Sam replied, looking at Dean, disapprovingly.
"Hey, they still taste great," Dean replied, opening the door to the driver's seat and sliding in.
Sam rolled his eyes before settling into the passenger seat. "You're an idiot," he said.
A beat later, Castiel entered the car too. Dean took off, hoping Castiel wouldn't ask the question, especially not in front of Sam. Fortunately, Castiel kept his mouth shut and stared out the window.
Sometimes when Castiel was staring out the window that way, he looked sad. Dean usually cracked a stupid joke and Castiel would smile. Just a little twitch of lips, but it was something and it pleased Dean to no end. Dean would catch Castiel looking at him, from the side view mirror, and the fondness in his eyes would make Dean's heart clench inexplicably. It had just been half a day…
They would reach New York only after the next day's afternoon, with a stop for the night.
The woman was bloated and dirty. She was wearing stained and stinking clothes, a child sleeping in her arms. There was a giant mole on her left cheek and a permanent scowl adorned her dark features.
Even though he was to find beauty in every one of his Father's creations, Castiel chose to hide behind Sam's huge form. When Sam turned around to look at Castiel and exposing him in the process, Castiel frowned and moved to stand behind Dean who immediately stepped forwards, wordlessly understanding Castiel's motive.
"Hi," Dean said with a half-hearted try at a charming smile. "Can we get, uh…" He trailed off, turning to look at his companions.
"Two rooms?" Sam asked both of them.
Seeing Castiel's panicked look, he shook his head and turned around to ask for one room with two beds.
"I'll get a sleeping bag from Baby and you two go up and get settled in," Dean said, handing the keys to Sam.
He turned on his heel and to the Impala before either of them could interrupt him and possibly refuse.
Some things never changed. One of them was Castiel sneaking up on people. Dean had half a mind to do this to Castiel when he could manage it. But right now, he had barely managed to get his head severed off by the trunk of his own car.
"Son of a bitch! Cas don't do that," he griped, whipping around to face Castiel.
"Dean, you don't have to do this," Castiel said, his eyes cast down. "I'll sleep in the sleeping bag or-or we could take the same bed."
"Cas," Dean said, willing Castiel to look up. When he eventually did, Dean continued, "It's alright. I like this sleeping bed. It has a better mattress than the motel ones. Don't deprive me of my fluffy mattress, man."
Castiel wasn't impressed. He didn't even crack a smile. He looked even more remorseful if that was possible. It made Dean want to do things he had never thought he'd want to do. Shaking out of his reverie, he turned away to pull out the moldy sleeping bag.
"Come on, Cas. We might get lucky. Sammy might want to take the sleeping bag," he said, shutting the trunk and walking towards the motel.
He didn't turn to see whether Castiel was impressed this time. His guess was that Castiel wasn't.
Castiel wasn't impressed. He was a liability, though the brothers were too nice to let him know that. It was enough that they let him stay with them, taught him things and made him food. But sleeping on the floor for him? That was unacceptable. He wouldn't have it.
He led the way as they climbed the stairs to their floor. Stopping a floor up, he whirled around to face Dean.
"You won't sleep on the floor for me," Castiel let out in one breath.
Dean almost walked into him. He bit his upper lip, processing Castiel's words. A confused frown followed up.
"What?" he asked, stupidly.
"You won't-" Castiel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Please don't sleep in the sleeping bag on my account. Let me take it."
"Oh come on, Cas! I can sleep on it. Look it's perfectly awes-"
"Dean, I don't want your pity!" he blurted out.
He snapped his mouth shut the second after the words were out. The darkness seeping into Dean's eyes was warning enough. Castiel straightened under Dean's gaze, holding his chin out. He was, no, had been a warrior and he would not be scared of Dean's glare, no matter how powerful.
"We don't pity you, you son of a bitch," Dean said, lowly, crowding Castiel's space. "You're our friend! I thought we had that figured out. If you would open your feathery brain for five full minutes, you'd see that we have never pitied you! We've supported you."
Without waiting for a reply, Dean pushed past Castiel.
Castiel stood there a couple of seconds, staring after Dean. Biting his trembling lip, he followed the steps up. Reaching on the third floor, he realized he had no idea where his room was and his mobile (Dean had gotten him one a week ago; he loved the Tom Cat app) in his duffle. He cursed himself for making such a stupid mistake. He climbed another floor and Dean was standing at the top step, staring furiously at the mid-flight landing. Noticing Castiel treading carefully upstairs, he turned around without a word and waited for Castiel outside the room number 408. He opened the door with enough time for Castiel to catch it open.
Dean gruffly handed Sam the sleeping bag and vanished into the small bathroom.
Sam turned to look at Castiel with raised eyebrows.
"Ah…" Castiel drawled, eyes drifting away to stare at the painting on the wall.
Sam got the point and started to set the sleeping bag between the beds. He pulled the pillows from the bed, which had a gratuitous amount of pillows.
Castiel preferred to stand there, still staring at the painting. It was of two men. Both were holding drawn knives pointing at the other and with the palms of their free hands pressed against each other's wounds in a sympathetic, almost caring, way. It was relevant somehow, Castiel knew but he wasn't willing to delve into it. There was enough on his mind.
Done with the bed, Sam sat down on a chair with his laptop opening, almost automatically as Sam touched it.
"You can sit down, Cas," Sam said between the clacking of keys.
Castiel nodded, not that Sam was looking. He settled into the chair with a huff. Nervously, he pulled at the sleeve of his plaid shirt Sam had gotten for him a couple of weeks ago. Dean had gotten him a duffle in the first week of his introduction to humanity, with basic things like boxers, shirts, jeans, a dagger and a shotgun. He had learnt how to operate the shotgun in the batcave's shooting area and almost instinctively knew how to use a dagger, obviously with his experience of the angel blade. Sam had looked impressed and Dean; proud, which made unnamable emotions rise up in Castiel's throat. Over the weeks with Dean, Sam, Kevin and even Garth's help, Castiel's duffle had filled up with books, another shotgun, clothes and a rather nice looking leather journal chipped in by Garth. Castiel filled the pages each night from the vast serves of knowledge that he possessed. It was a relief that his experiences and knowledge hadn't been washed away after his Fall.
"I'm taking the sleeping bag," Dean announced, coming out of the bathroom.
"Dean-"
"No 'Dean's, Cas," he growled, plopping down on the sleeping bag.
He misjudged the height and sat down hard with a huff, making his affronted glare seem funnier than it was intended to be. Sam chuckled quietly.
"Dean, you are not the one making decisions here!" Cas said.
Dean looked relieved at not being picked on for a minute before a stormy expression took its place. Before he could say anything, Sam stood up quickly to stand between the two.
"Shut up both of you," he said in calm voice. "Dean pull the covers down and I'll grab the pillows. All three of us are sleeping on the floor. Cas, you can take the sleeping bag if you want."
"No, Dean initially decided on it. Dean you take it," Castiel said, shaking his head.
"Cas, you take it," Dean persuaded.
"Christ. You two are grounded. Literally. Both of you on the ground. Dean, the covers," Sam said, raising his hands as a warning.
Dean and Castiel shut up. Dean moved to strip off the covers off the beds and lay them on the floor. While Castiel helped him spread them on the floor, Sam got the pillows to throw them at the top.
"Sam, you should take the sleeping bag," Castiel said, when they were done.
The three stood and stared at their handiwork. Both beds were empty and all three of them couldn't fit onto the two covers spread on the floor, unless they wished to snuggle together. One look at Dean's face, and Sam sighed as he dragged his feet to the sleeping bag.
"Goodnight guys," Sam called from between the beds.
"Good night," they echoed, from the window side, each lying at the farther edge of the covers.
Sam woke up first, disoriented by the towering beds over him. Sitting up, he realized what exactly smelled so moldy. It was the sleeping bag. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he sat up.
Sam knew that there was something between his brother and Castiel. He had known it from the first time they had stared at each other for a long time. Castiel was different; innocent. He was a good influence on Dean. He was what could qualify as Dean's best friend. Sometimes it seemed as though there was more, under those layers the two hid themselves under. Sam was nothing, if not a good brother and like a good brother, he refused to push them further. With Dean, it was a thin thread. If Sam pushed them together, Dean would run and if he pushed them apart (to make them realize how 'profound' their bond was), they would both run towards each other but with a five feet lateral distance between them.
Today was one of the mornings when Sam wished he could knock some sense into the two of them.
Castiel was lying on his side, facing Dean. Dean, who had slept closest to the air conditioner, had his face pressed into Castiel's chest and arm thrown around him. Castiel was no better. He had one hand threaded in Dean's hair and the other lying on Dean's shoulder. Sam guessed there was Castiel's hand shaped scar right under where his hand presently lay. Chuckling to himself, he climbed over the bed closest to them and crawled to the bedside table.
Clicking a picture on Dean's phone, he set it as the wallpaper to make sure Dean would see it. He grinned at the picture for a couple of minutes and moved only when Dean started to stir. 'Move' was an understatement. He practically flew to the bathroom, instantly switching the shower on.
Dean was a man who loved sex. He loved sex and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He appreciated both genders but the scales tipped towards women for him. From his teenage years, Dean had stuck to girls, except that one time with Rhonda Hurley. She had insisted on making him wear pink satiny panties and wore a strap on herself. That had been one Hell of an adventurous night for Dean. He had really liked it.
That is when he had figured it out that sexuality was not a straight line. It was rather a squiggly one. But still shadowed by his father's expectations, he had refused to enjoy the same gender, not even looking at them. He got by, well enough. The women who came his way were hot and easy. Just how he liked them.
Like everything else though, Castiel had upturned his life. He had single handedly changed his views and wants. Of course, he'd never accept this, if asked. To him, Castiel was innocent and clueless and just Goddamn adorable. Dean would never ask something of him that he couldn't give. He knew Castiel would follow him wherever he went, and follow every order given. But this was driving a car off the line instead of just a toe. Dean wasn't going to screw with it. Or with Castiel. Not without his explicit permission. Which meant Castiel would have to make the first move. Castiel was clueless, which is where they completed a circle.
Dean was content. Content with what he had with Castiel. Castiel was here with him, had no intentions or means of leaving and Dean was glad with making Castiel happy. There were times he wondered that if he found his grace, would Castiel leave them? He hoped to leave a good impression on Castiel if he did choose to leave.
Dean's pants rustled against the overhanging tablecloth as he tapped his foot against the foot rest. Sam looked ecstatic about something.
"Dude, who gave you Lucky Charms this morning?" Dean asked, annoyed by Sam's secretive smile.
"What?" Sam asked, feigning obliviousness.
"Something's up with you," Dean noted.
"You do seem rather bright this morning," Castiel said, shifting in his borrowed FBI uniform.
Sam shrugged. "It's good to be finally out on the road again."
Dean eyed him suspiciously but Sam didn't look up from his menu. He was so distracted by Sam's grin that he didn't even flirt with the busty waitress. It had been days since they had ventured into civilization and Dean wanted to make the best of it, but damn Sam. He realized that the colder you were to the waitress, the earlier you got the food, so that you could be shooed away. Dean would have to keep that in mind
"Hey, Dean, what's the time?" Sam asked in the middle of eating a salad.
"Check your watch, dude," Dean said through his mouth filled with burger. He had sauce running down his chin.
Castiel picked up a napkin and held it out for Dean. Dean took with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes.
"I'm not wearing a watch," he said, breaking their staring contest.
"Sammy, I didn't buy you a phone for this day."
"I got the phone with my own money!"
"Sam, we don't have our own money."
"Alright, with Steve Evans money. Would you just please tell me the time?"
"Lazy ass," Dean grumbled, switching on his phone and choking on a bite of his burger.
He doubled over coughing, and tears streaming down his face. He looked up, blurrily. Castiel was giving him a concerned and rather adorable look while Sam looked conflicted between laughing his ass off or offering Dean water. He didn't have to; Castiel got there first and, even, patted Dean's back.
Gulping down some water, Dean slammed the glass down on the table and glared at Sam. The right choice would be to storm off the table but they had a long day in front of him and not many pit stops, if he could help it. He settled with glowering at Sam who just offered an innocent smile.
Castiel ignored the brother's mental talk, too used to it to bother. He sipped his coffee, looking peaceful for a man who might find his brothers and sisters today. Dean mentally berated himself at the thought. He had never bothered asking Castiel how he was. He had been suicidal before this fiasco, there wasn't much guessing to be done as to how he must be feeling now. Forgetting the mission of glaring down his brother, he took to watching Castiel eat, thoughtful.
Sam cleared his throat, making the two men look up. He didn't look up, focusing on his food. Dean reddened. He must have blatantly been staring at Castiel proving Sam's point with the picture. (Though what was the point?) He glared at Sam's bangs hanging over his face as he dug through his salad. Fucking salad eating moose-face tall idiot of a brother.
Dean inhaled the last of his fries and started to bug the other two to eat faster so they could move forwards. Castiel ignored him and Sam scowled as he chewed his salad.
Fifteen minutes and a disgruntled waitress with no tip later, they found themselves heading towards New York.
They sat in relative silence, Dean's classic rock playing in the background. Sam could tune it out and Castiel liked it. All three of them drowned in their thoughts, looking out the windows at the wilderness.
Entering New York, Dean insisted on turning on the radio. There was supposed to be quality radio in New York.
"Put on a Classic rock channel, Sammy."
Sam fiddled with the radio.
"I hopped off the plane at L.A.X.
With a dream and my cardigan
Welcome to the land of fame excess,
Am I gonna fit in?"
Sam turned around to look at Dean, his eyes wide. They continued to stare at each other, before breaking into laughter.
"I don't understand this reference."
They just laughed harder. Dean broke first and started to sing along with the song in mock falsetto. Sam joined in a second later.
For the first time in a long time, Dean and Sam entered a city in peals of laughter.
A/n: This chapter was initially supposed to be the last but then the archangel nation attacked.
Then it was supposed to have New York as well. In the end it is mostly a filler, in my opinion with cute cuddling. ;)
Next chapter will have plot.