Author's Note: Update, whoo~ It seems as though my promises of 'updates on Wednesday and Saturday' have turned into Tuesday and Friday. BUT OH WELL. So yeah. Here's the next chapter, yay...? You will have noticed that they're quite short chapters, and that's why I'm updating twice a week instead of once.
Thanks with all of my heart to the lovely people who reviewed last chapter again: tii-chan17, missiontothestars, more-profound-bond and liife2uck2.
You guys are amazing, and I squealed when I received your reviews. :P Oh, and in response to liife2uck2's question: I thought about it for ages, but I decided to keep it all in Cas's POV. Saying that, there are two chapters much, much further down the line in Dean's POV, but I did that for a specific reason. (:
So, yup. PLEASE REVIEW AGAIN, GUYS! You'll even make it onto my little wall of fame (that's what I'm going to call it from now on...) next chapter, ahaha.
~Rainbow Fruit Loop xx
~Praying for Redemption~
Chapter Three.
The first thing Cas noticed about Dean's apartment was the overwhelming, aching sense of home. Not in a sappy, completely irrational kind of way, but more in a cluttered, warm, lived-in type of way.
There were small stacks of books piled up on every surface, a dark brown leather couch that looked almost painfully comfortable positioned in front of the large television, and - much to Cas's delight - a large fireplace at the centre of the back wall.
"Sorry about the mess." Dean apologised, stepping into the room to throw his keys onto the table to his left. "I didn't realise that someone would be coming over so soon."
Cas gave a slight murmur to show that he'd been listening, and cautiously stepped into the apartment to further inspect it. His eyes flickered over every surface, taking in the collection of pots and pans in the kitchen - Dean enjoyed cooking, it seemed. He took in the half-full bowl of fruit sitting on the kitchen counter top, and wondered how often Dean ate from it.
He took in the creamy mocha-brown walls, and the dark scarlet feature wall behind the fireplace. He took in the large wicker basket of firewood that was packed hazardously high for the cold winter, and the thick, heavy curtains that hung open, showing off the increasingly darkening skyline.
It was a nice apartment, Cas had to admit. Aside from all of the charm that seemed to have exploded into a delirious warmth throughout the room - the positive sentiment personified through Dean's charismatic smile and vivid-olive eyes - Cas thought that, as a building, it looked structurally stable. Cas appreciated that in an apartment.
Dean watched Cas's journey through the apartment's living room nervously, half-heartedly straightening one of the many piles of books in an attempt to tidy the place up as he did so.
"So, what do you think?" he asked, and Cas thought that he sounded slightly nervous, like he thought that maybe there was something unappealing about the unorganised clutter. But Cas… well, he had begun to like chaos.
Avoiding Dean's question - because Cas thought that answering might lead to some sort of unspoken promise to move in with him - Cas wandered over to a random pile of books on the kitchen bench, and ran his finger down the spine of the thickest one.
"You have some very nice books." Cas said instead, noticing many famous works by very well known authors. "I would love to read some of them."
Dean smiled softly, and his eyes held a mix of bittersweet nostalgia and loneliness. It made Cas wonder who the books belonged to - or had belonged to - and what kind of memories surrounded them.
"They're my brother's." Dean murmured, absentmindedly tracing a pattern across the cover of one of the books. "I keep meaning to do something with them now that he's gone, but…" he paused for a second. "I suppose I like them where they are."
"I see." Cas said, picking up a book to flick through its pages lightly. He loved the smell of books - a musty, old kind of scent that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he loved it all the same. "And where is your brother now?"
"He went off to study law at Stanford a few months ago." Dean answered, before rubbing his obviously cold fingers together. He strode over to the fireplace, presumably to provide a little bit of warmth in the progressively cold room. "I miss him a lot, you know?"
Cas nodded to himself, his eyes still fixed on the books. "Yes, I do know. Is that why you're looking for a roommate? Do you need someone to pay half the rent for you?"
Dean chuckled, and - having started the fire up - wandered back over to stand awkwardly behind where Cas was still enchanted by the sheer number of dusty old books.
"Not really, no. My family- well, I suppose we're quite wealthy. So it's not that, it's just…" Dean trailed off, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I suppose I get lonely on my own. And so I thought, why not get a roommate?"
For the second time that day, Cas remembered his manners, and turned around to face Dean - he could look at the books another time, he was sure. Because… Despite everything, he did like the apartment. He liked the books, the fireplace, the warm comfort that he had unearthed.
So what was the point in returning back to his dreary, grubby apartment, where the rent was almost as expensive, and he frequently faced the risk of hypothermia? Dean needed someone to stay with him, and… well, Cas supposed that, after everything he had been through over the past few months, he really needed someone too.
Fixing Dean with his scrutinizing look, Cas tilted his head to the right slightly. "Do you get lonely easily, Dean?"
Dean looked a bit surprised by the question, yet he didn't flinch away as so many others had done before him. "Uh, not normally, no, I suppose. It's just that I've lived with my brother my entire life, so it was, well, not very pleasant to have him leave me."
"Yet you think that letting a stranger into your apartment will satisfy your craving for companionship?" Cas was aware that he was asking questions that were far too personal, seeing as though the two had only met that day. But he couldn't help himself - if he was seriously considering stepping so far out of his comfort zone to share a flat with Dean, then he wanted to at least know what the man was made of.
Dean shrugged lightly, an easy grin lighting up his face as he thought about his answer. It was the type of smile that Cas wished he could see in the mirror sometimes. "Yeah, well, it's worth a shot, right?"
And it was at that point that Cas decided that he didn't just like the apartment - he liked Dean too. Dean was honest, and seemed reliable, and that's what Cas needed in his life. Honesty. Reliability. Someone he could trust.
"Would you ever consider buying a cat?" Cas asked suddenly - remembering his thoughts the previous morning. "Cats are naturally calming animals, and provide great company and warmth. I have often thought about buying myself a cat."
Dean shot him an amused glance, his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. "Are you seriously suggesting that I buy a cat instead of getting a roommate?"
Cas shook his head in response, and questioned if maybe he had said the wrong thing. Maybe Dean just didn't like cats. It was a possibility. Or maybe he was allergic to them? That would be a shame, because Cas thought that they were so graceful; dreadfully haughty sometimes, sure, but agile and beautiful nonetheless.
"No, never mind about the cat. I was just curious."
Dean smirked, and raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of politely telling me that you're not interested in the apartment? Because, if you're not, that's totally fine, I wasn't expecting anyone for months anyway."
Cas shook his head again, and fiddled with his coat's hem awkwardly. "No, it's not that. I think…" he trailed off, because he wasn't sure what he thought. Was he really serious about moving in? He liked the apartment, and he thought that he liked Dean, but was such a spontaneous decision going to come back to haunt him later?
Come on. Live a little, Cas.
"I think I could be happy here." Cas said slowly, eyeing Dean carefully. "I think… I would be interested in moving in."
But as soon as he said it, Cas started panicking. What if Dean didn't like him? What if he had made a terribly bad first impression, what with his eerie staring and too-intimate questions? What if Dean's earlier comment - '…if you're not, that's totally fine' - had meant to discourage Cas from moving in? Was he hinting at something, but Cas hadn't picked up on it?
But then Dean's face lit up brightly, and he flashed Cas another one of his crinkly-eyed smiles. And, in spite of everything, Cas felt himself returning the grin, though he was sure that the emotion looked foreign and strange on his face.
"Wow, really? You want to move in already?" Dean seemed enthusiastic, and it relieved Cas. "That's great. I must have done a real good job selling the place. It's probably because I didn't mention the recently-released-from-prison serial killer on the floor below us, or the fact that this room's haunted by the ghost of a young woman who was brutally murdered here almost fifty years ago."
Cas was positively aghast at such information, and he could feel his eyes widening to an almost comical, cartoon-like size. "I think I've changed my mind, actually, Dean."
Dean chuckled quietly to himself, and the noise sounded like the feeling of silky-soft feathers brushing against calloused fingers. "I was kidding, Castiel - it was a joke. We're not haunted, not as far as I can tell, and there are no serial killers anywhere."
Cas looked at him suspiciously, his bright cobalt eyes narrowing. "If you say so."
Dean rolled his eyes playfully. "Trust me."
And, for the first time in God-knows-how-many years, Cas found himself thinking: You know, I think I might be able to.
