A bus drive that passed in almost utter silence broken only by Dean's picking away at a guitar as he continued to write that new song and occasional complaining that Dean had been forbidden to ever visit Las Vegas again ("Dude, it was one time! Yeah, I got a little drunk and knocked some things- and people- over, but... Vegas is a helluva city. Ladies are crazy. And the crowds are great. I'm tellin' you, man. We're really missing out by not going to Vegas.") later, Cas sat backstage at another of Dean's concerts, continuing to marvel at Dean's stage presence.
He just never calmed down, did he? He was always energetic and friendly and playful. Cas found himself loving that about him.
And then pushed those thoughts out of his head, focusing instead on his writing.
After the concert ended, Cas returned back to the bus, not waiting for Dean to lurch out drunkenly. There was only so much bus-mate-dragging that could happen over the course of three days, and Cas had pretty much hit the limit.
He sat there, typing away in the semi-darkness, one headphone in, bobbing his head along to- surprise- one of Dean's earliest songs.
Cas half-heard the door to the bus swing open and feminine giggling. He rolled his eyes, expecting the worst.
Dean entered, surprisingly sober, with a lanky white-blonde girl in a grey tank top laughing on his arm. Cas looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, finding Dean with the same face he had had when Cas was stretching the previous day- that of confusion, awe, and attraction.
It was probably Cas's imagination, though.
Probably.
"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend, Dean?" the girl said prettily and bit her pink lower lip, just missing the small ring in the lower right corner of it.
Dean tore his eyes away from Castiel and looked back at the girl. "Actually, Harper, Cas here was just leaving. Right, Cas?"
Cas rolled his eyes and glared at Dean with eyes saying "you owe me one." Dean nodded, a childish desperation in his green eyes. Castiel closed his laptop, pulled out his headphone, and stood. "Yeah. I was just gonna go get a coffee at the cafe across the street, do some more writing..."
"Great," Dean said with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was oddly genuine for a snarky face.
As he passed the two of them, Cas happened to glance down at the girl's almost bare shoulders. In between her collarbone and neck there were tattooed two letters in swirly blue- "D.W."
"Nice tattoo," he said and glanced at Dean, who looked surprised- apparently, he hadn't been looking anywhere above her sternum.
The girl smiled at Cas widely. "Thanks."
"Dean Winchester, I assume?" Cas said and smirked at Dean's unease.
The girl narrowed her eyes in a failed attempt to appear mysterious. "Maybe. Or maybe Doctor Who. I'm not quite sure yet."
"What's Doctor Who?" Dean asked with an eyebrow cocked up.
"A British TV show," Cas and Harper said in unison and grinned at each other.
"So you're a nerdy type, too," Harper breathed and reached up, tracing a delicate finger down the collar of Cas's shirt. He pulled away politely and a slow smile drifted across her lips. "You're invited, too, if you want, tonight."
"You are not invited," Dean said firmly and Cas, getting the message, turned to go.
"Nice meeting you, Harper." She smiled at him warmly. "You kids have fun, now."
Dean winked at Cas and, putting an arm around Harper's thin shoulders, started to move her towards the back of the bus.
Cas shook his head incredulously and left, laptop in tow, to go to the cafe.
He ordered a large Lapsang Souchong tea and, once it had arrived, sat at a small corner booth and typed steadily for forty-five minutes or so.
To his surprise, he was interrupted from writing by Dean sliding in across from him and, beaming at the waitress- who was well over forty- ordering a double espresso.
Cas, not sure what the appropriate question to ask in this situation would be, simply raised an eyebrow.
Dean rubbed his eyes, looking tired, and slumped back into the polished leather of the booth. "I dunno, man. The world is full of some weird-ass people."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Was sex while sober too uncomfortable for you?" Cas said gruffly and took a sip of his tea.
Dean shook his head, a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth. Soon, he started to laugh quietly. "I like you, Cas," he said once he had stopped. "You're funny. You're a total ass, but funny."
"Thanks, Dean," Cas said dryly. "Means a lot." He drank again. "So what happened?"
Dean shrugged. "Well, she wanted to. But I... I don't know why, I just... I didn't. So I told her sorry and left." He smiled, eyes crinkling again. "Heh. She said if we ever wanted to turn our line into a triangle, we should give her a call. Whatever that means. Crazy kid." (Cas heard this and understood- tips of his ears turning pink- but, deciding not to say anything, acted like he hadn't.)
"So when you said the world is full of weird-ass people you were talking about yourself," Cas said, blue eyes twinkling. "Second time this week that you've turned down a beautiful woman. Quite unlike the Dean we all know and fear."
Dean raised both eyebrows. "She seemed pretty into you. You can have her, if you want."
Castiel frowned. "I-it doesn't work like that in real life, Dean. Hate to break it to you."
Dean considered as his coffee arrived. "Eh, guess you're right. Since you're not me and all. Bottoms up!" He downed the tiny cup in one gulp and then set it on the table, feeling the caffeine run up his veins. Even his hair seemed to stick up a little higher at the jolt. "Ooh. Good stuff. How's your indie hipster drink there?"
"...it's called tea, Dean. It's sophisticated."
"Then why aren't you sticking your pinky out?" Dean asked innocently and batted his eyelashes.
Cas groaned and, trying and failing miserably to hide his smile, tossed a balled-up napkin at Dean, who caught it and threw it back.
And that is the story of how two grown men had a napkin fight whilst giggling in a 24-hour cafe in downtown Phoenix.
Once they had settled down slightly- that may or may not have had to do with the constant reprimands from the aging waitress- they sat and looked at each other in silence, both still grinning from ear to ear.
They talked late into the night, thoroughly freaking out all other customers and staff by not leaving for hours.
Turned out they actually had a lot in common. Dean's relationship with Sam was almost identical to Castiel's issues with his sister Anna. They both had broken their right arms just above the elbow in middle school. Dean had an extraordinary fondness for vintage cars and Cas one for typewriters. Both loved pie, although Dean probably a whole lot more.
The list went on, as did the night.
They ended up with a tab that was 48 dollars and 29 cents and split it- a lot of coffee had happened.
When they returned to the bus, instead of sleeping, they stayed up and talked until shamefully late. There wasn't another concert until the next night, and that wasn't that long of a drive away- the whole tour group left in the morning to go to Tucson. So they had plenty of time to talk.
It seemed they couldn't stop the words when they were together. Both wondered how they hadn't discovered this before and both regretted that.
Cas found himself telling Dean his whole life story as they lay in bottom bunks across from each other- ugly history with drinking, family, school and all. Dean told Cas about how he'd gotten started in music, really started- "not that dumb crap that's on Wikipedia or whatever, dude. The actual story. Not somethin' I usually tell people."
"Lucky me," Cas said with a smile in his voice.
"Yeah!" Dean said and Cas could hear him smiling back. He wondered if his eyes were crinkling at the corners again, if that dimple by the right side of his mouth was appearing, if- okay, stop it, Cas, get a hold of yourself, man, come on.
As Dean spoke, voice hushed and acquiring a slight rasp from talking so long, Cas found himself feeling a way he hadn't felt for a really long time about anyone. There had been that guest reporter who'd written an article with him three or so years ago- God, she'd been beautiful. Inside and out. She'd been a charity worker in her spare time, writing articles about peace movements and fundraisers as her actual job. Something of an angel. Nothing had happened between them, of course- her standards were far too high for that- but God, he'd loved her.
And he was beginning to feel the same way he'd felt about her in the first couple days of knowing her about Dean.
And, honestly, it scared him a little bit.
Because if Dean didn't feel the same way- of course he doesn't, why would he, Dean's as straight as they come- Castiel was worried he wouldn't know how to move on in life.
He ignored those thoughts, the nagging doubts telling him to turn back before it was too late, and listened to Dean's heartfelt monologue.
"...she left me, of course. Abby did." Dean sighed. "Like I said, Cas. Everyone always leaves me and I don't know why."
"Maybe it's because you're such a dick," Cas suggested hesitantly, trying to make a bit of a joke out of it.
He failed miserably.
Dean made a sound like a choked sob and Cas's heart broke again.
"I-i'm not, though," Dean whispered. "I'm really not. People just- people just think I am because- because I drink too much and I'm basically a man-whore and I come on kinda strong but that's not what I am." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "No one ever gives me a chance. Ever. They just see my face and talk to me when I'm drunk- and I usually am- and assume things and- Christ, that hurts. It hurts when people do that. And- and-" He couldn't talk for a few seconds and Cas thought he could hear him breathing rapidly as he tried to push down his tears. "And I hate it, Cas- I- I- you think I like drinking myself into oblivion every night? I used to, yeah, and I guess it's easier than facing what I am, but I hate losing control the way I do. But I can't help it. I can't stop myself. I'm just such a child. And I can't grow up. Shit, man, I've tried everything, you know, had jobs over the years-" he laughed bitterly- "got me nowhere. I can't grow up. I'm like fuckin' Peter Pan, man, stuck in Neverland. Forever. And I can't get out. So I drink until I forget and then I sleep around- ugh, God knows how many diseases I have- and it gives me nothing. I'm still just so empty inside. I thought this tour would help me heal, and in some ways it has- not in the ways I expected, and not the sources I expected- but honestly, man, I think I'm too screwed up to ever get completely better. I- I just- wish people would see me for what I really am. I'm messed up. I'm not a dick. Not underneath. People tell me I don't have a heart, but they're wrong- I do. It's just been- I don't know- burned out of me or something. Mostly. But the tiny pieces that are left hurt like hell." He swallowed a sob again and continued. "Rehab did nothing for me. I've been there way too many times. Even before I made it big, the place was like a second home. Or a first home. I've never really had a home. I just- God, I'm totally rambling. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I never know what I'm saying anymore. That's what it feels like, anyway. No one's given me any reason to feel any different. And then I met you, and-"
He broke down completely and couldn't talk anymore.
Cas had seen death. He'd seen pain and suffering and had to look the other way and steel himself, knowing he'd never see anything that horrible ever again.
But nothing could have prepared him for lying in the dark and listening to Dean Winchester cry his heart out.
He didn't know what to do.
Every instinct Castiel Novak had in his body and brain was telling him to get up and go to Dean, but the microscopic rational part of him that remained advised him against that.
So he lay, paralyzed with fear of the near future, and stared up at the bunk above him and listened to the pure misery next to him.
Dean cried himself to sleep- that's what it sounded like- and once Dean's breathing had become less ragged, Cas finally found the words.
He would never be able to say them to Dean's face. He would be too scared.
But with Dean practically unconscious, he felt safe. Maybe Dean would hear him in his sleep and, even though he wouldn't be able to remember- hopefully- he would still have a general sense of well-meaning from Cas.
"Dean, I'm sorry," he begins and stops, surprised at how weak his voice is. He swallows and starts again. "I'm sorry I objectified you and judged you. I'm sorry everyone does that. I know now that you're better that the person you seem to be. I am so, so sorry no one gives you a chance anymore. I know that you deserve it. And I promise I'll change for you and become more open-minded. I hope you can forgive me for the completely appalling way I've treated you. I... I'm no better than anyone else. I judged you without even meeting the real you first. And I'm sorry, even though those words mean almost nothing. But please believe me that I regret treating you the way I have. And that changes starting now." He paused and went on after gathering his thoughts. "You're asleep, so you can't hear me, but I just want you to know that you're- ah, don't really know how to say it- you're beautiful, Dean. Inside. Even though you may not think so. I can see it in you and it's a shame you don't let it show more, although I caught a glimpse of that tonight. And- just so you know. It's completely not your fault that everyone leaves you. It's their loss. And believe me, if you showed more people the side of you that I talked to tonight, no one would ever leave your side. So, uh, yeah," he finished lamely and closed his eyes, exhausted and full of trepidation at the same time.
"So you were just gonna let me fall asleep and let me think you hated me for the rest of my life? Nice, dude," he heard a mildly amused voice say from a few feet away from him and jumped.
"D-dean?" Cas said, regretting he'd said anything for the past five minutes.
There was a chuckle. "Beautiful, huh?"
Cas felt himself turn bright red and started to stammer something out, but Dean cut him off.
"I haven't been asleep this whole time, actually. It's been a while since I've slept sober, and it'll take some getting used to again." He sighed. "Sorry for listening in. But I'm guessing it wasn't your aim for me to have no idea whatsoever of what you said?"
Cas cringed. "I- I wanted you to know what I meant, but I wasn't planning for-"
"For me to hear your entire Hallmark card speech, eh?" Cas could hear Dean grin and some of the heaviness lifted from his chest. "Well, uh, thank you, Cas. I'm no good at things like this, but thank you. I would say it means a lot but, like 'sorry,' those words mean nothing. Just trust me when I say that I do." Cas thought Dean was getting a little choked up again, but it could have just been his imagination. "So thank you, Cas. Thank you for believing in me even though I don't really deserve it all that much." Castiel heard Dean roll back over so he was facing away from Cas. "Anyway, good night, dude. I need sleep. Tucson's a big deal tomorrow."
"G'night," Cas said sleepily and pulled the itchy blanket up higher.
And it may have been just the voices in his head getting louder, but a second or so before he drifted into blissful unconsciousness, he thought he heard Dean say quietly, "And for the record, Cas, I think you're beautiful, too."
Probably just the voices, though.