His twin bed was small, but it was a strange relief. After sleeping alone in his queen bed for years, always sleeping on his side of the bed, and turning to find no one on the left, no one to talk with in soft murmurs, no one to give him advice about his daughters, sleeping in a smaller bed was easier.

Dean lay in bed in his boxers and a black shirt, his arms folded behind his head as he glanced up at the dark ceiling. He could still hear the footsteps of his family in the first floor, knew that they were there, and that thought slowly drifted him to a sound sleep.

When he woke, Dean decided that he needed to spend some quality time with his daughters. He got dressed and went upstairs for breakfast. Unfortunately, he walked into an empty kitchen and a pile of dirty dishes soaking in the sink.

Mary came out of the living room. "We waited for you, but it's almost noon." She frowned, apologetically.

Dean did a half-shrug. Not a surprise. "I didn't think I would oversleep. Mom, have you seen my girls?"

"They went down to the lake with everyone," Mary said.

"Okay, I'll go find them." Before Dean could walk away, Mary held him still, holding his shoulders. "What is it?"

"Dean, sweetheart, give your girls some space. How do you think they feel after being stuck with you all year long? Come on, Emma won't like it if you take her away from her cousins."

Digging his hands into his jeans pockets, Dean furrowed his brows. "But I'm—"

"I know you're their father. They know that. We all know that. Why don't you go get the paper?" Mary pulled a dollar bill from her pocket. "On second thought, why don't you buy some books while you're at it? A person can never own enough books. Go on."

Dean got the hint. His own family didn't want him around today. It was understandable. He bummed them out. Dean didn't argue with Mary. Instead, he kissed her cheek, grabbed his keys and his jacket, and headed out into the cold.

The drive was lonesome and quiet. That is what he loved about this town. It was the perfect place to get away, if Dean ever wanted to get even farther away from people. At this rate, he would be so far away that he would really become invisible.

Rhode Island Books, read the hand-painted sign, above the 10% off red dot poster, which was also handmade. He parked outside of the small bookstore, which he respected for staying open even at this climate. God knew his books were mostly sold electronically nowadays.

The inside was just as he'd remembered. He used to love this bookstore. It was a small place filled with shelves of new and used books. He could get lost here all day, which was exactly what Mary had had in mind. Bells chimed as Dean swung open the door, and the man behind the checkout counter barely looked up as he continued his phone conversation. A whiff of cinnamon welcomed him, filling his body with warmth. A red candle burned on the counter. He could definitely get lost in this place forever.

Dean grabbed a newspaper and headed over to the literary fiction section. He skimmed over the titles, seeing a few familiar ones, most of which he already owned. He was about to pick out a book from the top shelf when he heard the bells again. His curiosity made him stick his head out from behind the shelves, to find a man in a khaki trench coat looking perplexed and entirely out of place.

"Excuse me," Confused Man said. Dean widened his eyes at the gravelly voice spoken by Confused Man. However, the man behind the counter paid no attention. "I'm looking for a book."

Dean held back a chuckle—why else would you be in a bookstore?—and looked away before Confused Man could catch him staring. Dean pushed the stool closer to him and stepped on it, reaching for the book he'd wanted to get all the way at the top. When he got back down, Dean jumped, startled.

Confused Man was standing right in front of him. Was he even wearing any shoes? How did Dean not hear him? Confused Man was standing one foot too close to Dean, completely cutting him off from his personal space.

Being this close to Confused Man made Dean appreciate his clear blue eyes. His dark hair was long and messy, and when Confused Man pulled on it, the messiness increased. It was an amusing contrast with his black suit and overcoat.

"I think I need you," Confused Man said.

"Come again?"

"I need your help," Confused Man said. "I'm looking for a book."

Dean grinned, clutching the book in his hands. "Yeah, I heard you a minute ago. I'm Dean." Dean held out his right hand, and Confused Man shook it, looking even more confused.

"Cas," he said.

"So, do you know what type of book you're looking for?"

Cas pursed his lips, pondering. "I want something that reminds me what love feels like, because I think I've forgotten."

In a quick motion, Dean licked his lips, humming. "Love. That's kind of broad. Now, I know you might think the romance genre is the way to go, but I've learned that some of the best books about love come in the most surprising genres."

"Maybe not love, then," Cas said, hesitant. "I want something to keep me so interested that I forget about time. Is that possible?"

Dean turned and walked over to another shelf, picking out random books. "Anything is possible in life, Cas. You just have to want it enough. When it comes to books, I've learned that you have to read a lot of bad ones to find a really good one. And when you can't find what you're looking for, you write it."

"I don't think I could write my own book," Cas admitted, stopping next to Dean at the back of the store. They were alone here, and Dean couldn't carry the stack of books anymore, so he set them down on a table.

"Well, I might be able to help with that in the future," Dean said, unsure of what he had just promised to this stranger. He wanted to write him a book? Get a grip, Dean-o.

"Do you write?" Cas asked, stepping closer, right into his personal space.

Dean cleared his throat, looking at the books on the table, the ones Cas was completely ignoring for the sake of staring intently at Dean. "I—uh—have written one or two books before." Four, exactly.

"And I haven't read you yet?" Cas asked, sounding disappointed. "Your name is Dean…"

"Winchester. Dean Winchester. I'm not surprised that you haven't heard of me. I write realistic fiction. It's not a very popular genre."

When he turned to him, Cas had a tiny smile on his face. It was something Dean would call sweet, but that made no sense. Why did he care so much about the way this stranger smiled at him?

"I haven't read you, but I want to now," Cas said in earnest. He finally looked away, and Dean shifted his feet. The amount of attention Cas was giving him made him feel…it made him feel alive.

Dean swallowed, picking up the first book off his pile. "So, anyway, if you wanted some romance, I'd start with a classic. Pride and Prejudice definitely is a must read." He picked up another book. "Oh, look, Extreme Zombies. How did that get in there? Don't read that. Ah, this is a good one. Pablo Neruda's poetry. Need I say more? The Great Gatsby. That's another good one. The Shining—way better than the movie. No romance there, but a lot of heart. You know what? As long as you stay away from paranormal romances, I think you'll be safe."

This time, Dean earned more than a smile. Cas laughed. His laughter was the same tone of his voice, deep and gruff and manly, and for some reason, Dean could not have enough of it. He wanted to make him laugh again. The problem was Dean wasn't funny.

"I'm not much help, am I?"

Cas tilted his head to the side, giving Dean a look as if they'd known each other their entire lives, and Dean was being nonsensical yet again. "You were everything I needed, and more. Thank you, Dean." Cas picked up the books off the table, one by one. "I'll take them all."

As they waited for the guy—still on the phone—to ring them up, Dean heard the embarrassingly loud noises made by his empty stomach. He'd left in such a rush from home that he didn't eat breakfast. Cas turned to him, and suddenly he was laughing again, so free and so wonderful.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way," Cas said, leaning closer. "But I would really like to take you out for lunch. It's the least I can do after what you did for me."

Take this the wrong way? You mean, like, a date? "Okay, sure," Dean said easily. He wouldn't take it "the wrong way." He would take it any way it came.


They sat on a bench near the bay overlooking the sea. It was a nice day, with just enough clouds to cover up the burning sunlight. Cas had bought them both an orange juice and a turkey sandwich. Eating this, Dean felt like a kid, especially with the chocolate chip cookie for dessert, but he liked it.

"She was so much better at being a parent," Dean said. It had been odd, at first, to talk about Lisa and his girls, but Cas made him so comfortable that he felt like opening up to him. He was getting used to all of these sudden emotions. The ones brought forth by the memories and by the longing sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a high possibility that Dean was quickly developing an actual adult crush on Cas. If that was even a thing.

"I'm sure you're a great parent," Cas said, sipping on his juice. "But kids will always be difficult. People are difficult as it is."

"Yeah," Dean said, leaning forward on the bench. "I've realized that I haven't stopped talking about myself and my life. You're probably really tired of hearing me. Tell me more about you." Casually, Dean let his arm hang on the top of the bench, not quite touching Castiel's shoulder.

Cas gave him another one of those familiar glances. "I really enjoyed listening to you. I've never met a more fascinating person." He checked his watch. "Shit. I forgot I have someplace to be. I guess it is possible to forget about the time when you're with the right person."

"I'm sorry you have to leave," Dean said, getting up with Cas.

"So am I." Looking away, Cas took a deep breath. "I promised my partner I would meet his family."

"Oh." Of course. Of course he wasn't available. How did Dean not see this coming?

"I have to go," Cas said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than Dean.

"Let me walk you to your car," Dean said, picking up Cas' books and carrying them over to his car.

Cas opened up the trunk and Dean put them inside, closing the trunk again. "Dean, I am truly glad I met you. First chance I get, I'll look up your books and buy them all."

"That's not really what I was aiming for," Dean muttered, digging his hands into his pockets. "Could you at least give me your number? Not that I'm expecting anything. I mean, I know you have someone." Great, Dean, just keep repeating that. It won't make it any less awkward.

"I do," Cas said, opening his door. He pulled out a card from the inside of his jacket and handed it to Dean. He brushed their fingers just slightly before pulling his hand away. "Both my work and cell number are on that card, so give me a call sometime."

Dean read the card. "You're a photographer?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"I really wish I could have let you tell me more about you." What is wrong with me? Shut up, just shut up.

"If you give me a call, we can arrange something," Cas promised.

"Sure." Dean put the card in his pocket. "I'll call you. I will call, so you should pick up."

Cas didn't laugh, but he smiled. "I will absolutely pick up." He climbed in an old white Honda and closed the door.

Dean leaned against his Impala, watching the loveliest of strangers drive away. He knew he couldn't have him, but that didn't mean he didn't want him.


His family was all scattered around the house by the time Dean made it back. He was dying to tell someone, to tell everyone, about his brand new…crush? How could a forty year old have a crush? No, he didn't have a crush, although the thought of Cas did feel like an enormous crush against his entire being. No, what he felt for Cas was something familiar and yet all brand new. He wondered what it would be like to spend his days talking to him over lunch, every day. What it would be like to kiss him, and tangle his fingers in his hair.

Holy fucking shit. Dean had it bad for Cas.

Dean caught Adam and Sam in the corner of the living room and approached them with a ridiculous giddiness. He opened his mouth and closed it before he got a word out.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Did you get lost on your way home?" Adam wondered.

Dean ignored the second question. "I met someone." That much was true. That was the simple part.

Both of his brothers looked at him as if he was some kind of alien who had taken over Dean's body.

"Someone you're interested in…?" Sam asked slowly.

"Or someone you want to bang all night long?" Adam said.

"Is there a difference?" Dean wondered, and then shook his head. "No, guys, I met someone I like. It came as a surprise, but I made a connection. I felt something I haven't felt in a really long time." Comfort, longing, joy.

"What's her name?" Adam asked, suddenly amused.

"See, the thing is, he's a man." Dean grinned easily. So what? He was a forty year old coming out of the closet. He didn't even know he was gay until he saw those big blue eyes staring back at him. It wasn't like he very much cared about genders. His philosophy was that if you like someone, you like someone. End of story.

Not so much this time, because the person he liked had someone else.

Adam placed a hand to his shoulder, gripping it. "So you've joined my side. Good for you, bro."

Sam grinned. "Okay, so tell us more about this mysterious man of wonder."

"By the sound of it, he's in a pretty serious relationship," Dean said. If Cas was meeting his partner's family, then that was the only conclusion he could draw. "But, he gave me his number. What do you think? Am I such an ass for thinking about calling him and getting to know him better?"

Adam shook his head. "You do what feels right. All's fair in love and war, Dean."

There was a knock at the door and Adam leaped away.

Sam watched Dean carefully for a moment, and then he narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into? Because I don't want you to get hurt, Dean. I know how huge this is for you, especially after so many years of total apathy on your part."

"Thanks," Dean deadpanned.

"Well, it's true."

Adam laughed, and Dean turned around. "Dean, Sam," Adam said. "This is my boyfriend, Castiel. Castiel, meet my brothers."

Dean tried not to let his emotions show on his face, or his eyes drift down to Adam's hand around Cas—Castiel's—waist, holding him possessively. And Cas, with crimson in his cheekbones and his mouth hanging open from the unhidden shock and confusion.

"Nice to meet you," Sam said, extending his hand. Cas blinked, finally looking away from Dean, and he shook Sam's hand.

"Yeah, it's very nice meeting you, Castiel." Dean shook his hand, biting his tongue to keep from saying something completely stupid.

That was it. Here ended his fantasy with Cas. He was with Adam, Dean's little brother. How could Dean fight with that? How could he deal with that?

Cas cleared his throat and continued staring firmly into Dean's eyes. The look was so intent, that Dean had to be the one to look away.

Laughing, Adam dropped his hand from Cas' waist. "Babe, Dean was just telling us about this hot dude he met at the bookstore. Honestly, though, it was about time. He's been moping for seven years."

"Hot dude?" Cas echoed, furrowing his brows.

This time, Dean was the one with flushed cheeks. "I didn't—"

"Oh yeah, it turns out I'm not the only gay man in the Winchester family," Adam said. He turned to Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take it from me, it only gets better from here."

Dean feigned a smile. "Thanks, but I don't need the talk. I can handle myself." Dean returned the eye contact with Cas. "But I don't think I have much to worry about anymore."

"Come on, Dean, don't give up so easily," Adam said encouragingly.

"Well, I think it's good that Dean's being cautious," Sam said, nodding his head. "There's no point in going after someone that's already in a relationship. Dean can bang any man he wants."

Tightly shutting his eyes, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sammy, don't help me."

"Adam, will you excuse me?" Cas said, making Dean look back at him. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Oh, sure. I'll take you, babe," Adam said, placing his hand on Castiel's back and guiding him down to the hallway.

"Adam's newest catch seems charming," Sam commented. "I'm sure Mom and Dad will really appreciate the normalcy aspect. Remember Lucifer? That man was nothing but trouble."

Dean took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm sure he's wonderful."

This would be a long weekend.