Meh... this chapter is iffy, in my opinion. I worked on it in chunks and didn't finish it until early in the morning, so please try and excuse any crappiness. This one may seem a bit pointless but I promise it's setting up for a juicy chapter next! I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.

Oh, and I'd just like to say thank you to Little Cinch especially; they've reviewed every chapter so far and their support is really appreciated. Thank you so much!

From a bystander's point of view, they must have looked pretty ridiculous; they were two grown men hiding behind the sofa, watching the trembling toilet seat from a distance in shocked silence. Dean had gone so far as to strap a cushion around his head for 'protection' as he put it, though Castiel was pretty confident it was just for show (or so he hoped).

"You're using a cushion as a helmet?" He asked casually, trying to fight back the smirk rapidly growing on his face.

Dean shrugged one shoulder, eyes still fixated on the bathroom "You can never be too careful, Cas."

The older man chuckled lightly and nodded towards the toilet "Perhaps we should do something. I have the feeling staring at it all day won't fix our problem."

"Well," Dean grimaced "I let my buddy next door borrow my plunger… and I don't quite fancy shoving my hand down the thing to fish out your faeces."

Castiel blushed "I-I didn't… poop!"

Laughter suddenly filled the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears "Did… did you just say poop?!"

Now he felt like even more of an idiot "Y-Yes? Is there a problem with choosing a more appropriate word to describe, well… you know…"

Dean fixed him with a perplexed stare "Crap, shit, dump, turd-"

"Yes, that."

His green eyes shimmered with amusement "Oh, Cas… You're such a prude you even have to resort to juvenility when discussing taking a crap!"

Castiel pouted slightly "Ass-butt."

Dean grinned at the childish insult; it hardly grazed him (in fact, it bounced right off him) but something about the older man's hunched shoulders and steely glare suggested that it was a word used only when he was particularly frustrated. It felt nice to be included in something that felt so, well… Cas.

"Yeah, but you're right. We need to settle this baby down."

"How?"

There was only one solution, of course: they had to retrieve the plunger.

"But, I thought your friend had it?" Castiel tilted his head slightly "Can we get to his apartment without using the door?"

Dean shook his head "Nah, his building's disconnected from this one…"

"So…"

A mischievous grin crept up on the younger man's face. There was a way they could reach the other building without leaving through the main door; if they took the steps up to the roof (which was technically off-limits, but what the hell!) and shimmied down the drainpipes, they could probably reach the fire escape and climb up to the window. The goddamn plunger was so not worth the ridiculous plan, but picturing a frantic Castiel trying to shimmy down a pipe made him laugh so hard.

"What?!" His blue eyes flashed incredulously "You must be insane!"

Dean tried on his most convincing frown "Why? I do this all the time…"

"Liar!"

"Hey, that hurts me!" He shoved the other man's shoulder playfully "The reality of the situation is: that toilet is oh-so close to flooding the entire bathroom and sooner or later, one of us is gonna have to go… We need the plunger!"

Castiel crossed his arms defensively "Why don't you go?"

"Like you said, it's your mess."

He'd gotten him there. If there was one thing he could safely conclude after spending time with Castiel, it was that the man hated being the cause of something chaotic or upsetting; he'd chosen to stay for breakfast after Dean had accused him of running out (little did he know that he had no choice in the matter), he'd apologised relentlessly for causing the younger man pain after their little 'dispute' and now he was getting all flustered because he knew, deep down, that the whole toilet scenario was of his doing. It was a cruel trick to play, but Dean knew it was the only way to get him on side.

Castiel fidgeted before responding hesitantly "Fine."

"You're on board?" He raised his eyebrows dubiously.

"Yes. But I refuse to wear anything ridiculous!"

Twenty minutes later, Castiel emerged from the bedroom wearing what appeared to be 50-odd layers of clothing, a bobble hat that practically drowned his head and a pair of steel toed boots. Despite the paranoid winter get-up, he still sported the twisted blue tie he'd worn around his neck the first time he'd shown up at the apartment.

Dean's mouth gaped open slightly "How the… Do you really think that outfit is gonna make things easier for you?"

"It's cold."

Castiel tilted his head, obviously confused as to why his companion seemed so concerned with his choice of clothing. He glanced down at himself, fixing his tie and tapping the heels of his boots against the floor; what was wrong with it?

"Yeah, Cas." Dean massaged his temples with an impatient huff, as if he'd lost the will to live "But please tell me how you're going to climb down a drainpipe when you can hardly move your sorry ass?!"

This got his attention; Castiel frowned slightly, offering Dean a weary smile before shrugging off a jacket, an extra pair of trousers, two jumpers and the scarf wrapped firmly around his throat. He was left in joggers, a thick blue cardigan that covered the white shirt he'd worn the night before and a pair of cotton gloves. Of course, Dean had no objections to the boots, though he was still quite sceptical about the tie.

"Better?"

The freckled man shoved a thumbs-up inches away from his face and grinned "Awesome."

Dean's outfit was much less appropriate, Castiel observed; he'd went for a neon-pink ski outfit, a black coat that puffed out his chest, a pair of pinstripe boxers and some worn out trainers.

"You ready for this, Cas?" He chuckled lightly, knowing the answer all too well.

"No." Castiel shook his head curtly, but motioned for Dean to lead the way nonetheless.

He followed him out the front of door cautiously, still very much concerned with how this plan was going to play out. Dean had seemed certain that climbing about on a slippery rooftop (with the sun slowly beginning to weaken throughout the evening) and practicing a Spiderman manoeuvre over onto the other building was going to be easy. To say that Castiel was doubtful would be a major understatement.

Dean's eyes shifted between the staircase and Castiel, who was now trembling despite the suffocating warmth of his new outfit "Alright, we need to go up."

"Really?" His tone was one of mock disbelief "To get to the roof we have to go up the stairs?"

What a bitch…

"Yeah, smart-ass." Dean supressed a smirk "Now, if you're done with being a douchebag, remember to mind your step. I'd hate for you to fall and break your neck…" He said the last part lightly, as if it such a thing would be a blessing.

Castiel grinned, which made Dean's heart flutter briefly; the older man wore it so well, it made him wonder why he didn't smile more often. He'd give anything to make him laugh, to be the only person capable of wringing such emotion from his uptight demeanour. It ached him to think about how, in less than 24 hours, this gorgeous man who'd stumbled into his life and made his heart soar would most likely be with his ex, begging her to take him back. The look on his poor face that morning, when he'd realized how stupid he'd been (because Dean was just a silly mistake, after all) had been a combination of fear, regret and, dare he even admit it, disgust… The mere thought of sleeping with another man had made Castiel feel dirty inside, so how was Dean supposed to tell him how he felt? How was he supposed to express how every time he furrowed his brow or tilted his head, Dean felt like he could melt there and then? How the hell was he expected to profess his affections for this stranger? He'd know Castiel all of 5 minutes and yet these feelings boring their way deep inside of him were frightening; they were like nothing he'd ever felt before. Maybe, that was his body's reaction to something far deeper than lust. Maybe, what he was feeling was stronger than a simple attraction. Maybe, just maybe, it was-

"Dean?!"

Castiel's eyes were wide with concern as he flailed he hand about in Dean's face. He must have blanked out…

"Yeah, yeah!" He chuckled weakly, shoving the older man back a few paces "I'm fine. Cool it, would ya?"

"Oh," Castiel cleared his throat "Does that happen often?"

The last thing he wanted was his newfound crush (yeah, he'd admit that he was acting like a teenage girl hopped up on 'Twilight' mojo) suspecting that he was all kinds of crazy.

He shrugged one shoulder "Only when I'm thinking real hard. It's no biggy!"

Before Castiel had time to object or call out Dean's blatant lies, he was being dragged up the stairs by a warm hand. Even through the thickness of his gloves, he could feel fingers digging into his flesh; it wasn't a painful grip, but it was desperate, like Dean was trying to hold on with all his might.

The air was colder than he could have imagined, slapping him forcefully in greeting as he clambered up the last few steps and towards the now-open door Dean had just kicked in. He wondered how much snow had been piled against their only means of escape and how much weight the younger man must have had to unleash on the door to even make it budge. Something itching in the back of his mind told him that Dean must have had a lot of experience with kicking doors in.

"Impressive," He noted casually, accepting the gloved hand reached out to him from above "Now, if only you could do that to the main door."

He'd only meant it as a joke, of course, but something brimmed behind those green eyes that made him shudder; it was sad and tired, giving Dean a forlorn expression that didn't mesh well with his usually bright face.

Dean scoffed "Yeah, then you could get of here for good and this whole mess would be over." His words sounded far more bitter than he'd intended, but Castiel chose not to acknowledge it.

From the roof, he could overlook the entire city. Dean's apartment was just on the outskirts, actually, but the blazing lights and moving traffic was just as visible from up there as it was from his and Meg's windows. Darkness had slowly engulfed them, diluting the sky to an inky blue as the sun melted away beyond the horizon, leaving nothing but the streaky remnants of light in its wake. He inhaled a sharp intake of breath and slumped against the low wall surrounding the border of the building.

Dean gasped "Woah, dude! Get away from the edge!"

It was a silly request; Castiel was a grown man who knew better than to play around on rooftops. But there was something so touching about the urgency in Dean's voice that he pulled back instantly with an apologetic smile.

The other building was spaced out by no more than a couple of metres, but the height made him feel nauseated. Suppose he slipped on the pipes? Suppose he hit the ground with enough force to break his leg? Both legs? Suppose he cut his head open like a can of tomatoes and bled to death on the pavement?

"I don't think I can do this." The statement was wobbly and hushed.

Dean slung an arm around Castiel's shoulders confidently, ignoring the fierce blush that painted the older man's face "It's as easy as 1, 2, 3…"

Castiel smiled appreciatively "As simple as do, re, mi?"

"Bitch."

"Ass-butt."

Dean grinned; it was that fleck of Cas' personality shining through once again. He loved it.

"I'll go first-"

"That was never out of the question!" Castiel squeaked, receiving a jolt of laughter from his partner in crime.

"OK, OK… I was just reminding you."

With that, he'd draped his legs over the roof edge facing the opposite building, his feet almost brushing the pipes below. It was simple task, in the grand scheme of things; the pipes ran down the bricks in two separate channels with numerous juts in the wall to support his footing. Just like climbing down a ladder, he assured himself.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the nervous wreck that was Castiel trembling before him "If I don't make it, just know that you rocked my world, baby."

Castiel's face flushed scarlet beneath his upturned collar "Oh, shut up, Dean…"

And with a wink, he was gone.

It was several minutes before Castiel heard Dean's voice again. All was silent and then, without warning, he heard boots colliding with metal, a suppressed groan and finally, those precious words "I'm OK!"

He hadn't realised he long he'd been holding his breath until the air escaped from his lips in a wheezy sigh "Did you really have to take so long?!" He called back.

"You kiddin' me?" Dean cried "I just defied gravity!"

Castiel chewed the inside of cheek, not sure if Dean was making another pun he couldn't understand "You do realize that it's physically impossible to defy gravity?"

"Yeah, yeah… Mr. Literal."

He knew it was now his turn to challenge fate and dangle himself off a building, all for the sake of a plunger, but his feet seemed to be glued to the spot. Dean was calling his name; it seemed distant and muffled, but it was definitely his voice. The wind whipped past him cruelly and almost knocked him out of place, though his stance was adamant. He wasn't moving anytime soon, he thought.

The air was cool. Not bitter cold like the rooftop, but breezy and refreshing against his reddened skin. A beach of flawless, white sand extended before him; he could feel the tiny grains between his toes, itching slightly, but comforting all the same. There was another man beside him. No… it wasn't a man, it was a boy. His hair was brown and flicked around his ears, eyes golden like honey as his face crinkled into a toothy grin.

"Hey, Cassie!" The boy was calling his name; they knew each other "Catch it!"

He looked down at his hands. They were softer and paler than usual, like they hadn't yet been worn down by years of labour and browned by the sun. Come to think of it, he was shorter, too. It could easily have been the sand swallowing his feet, but somehow he knew it wasn't that simple; he felt different, lighter. The pain of losing Hannah, his confusion about Dean – none of it was on his shoulders anymore. He felt free.

Something red soared past his vision. It peeled through the sky as if in slow motion, not quick like a rock or tennis ball. It was soft and steady as it hummed by his ear. A Frisbee.

"Aw, Cassie!" The boy scrunched his face and wrapped his arms around his chest "You missed it!"

That boy was Gabriel, it seemed so obvious to him now. It wasn't Gabriel as he knew him today, but a younger version; he looked about 12, maybe younger.

Another hand grasped his shoulder, spinning him around with sudden, unexpected force "Yeah, Cassie. You missed it."

Only his brothers called him Cassie, it had been that way since he was little. He much preferred Dean's nickname. Cas felt pleasant, friendly… Cassie felt patronising, a constant reminder that he was the baby of the family.

"Well, aren't you going to go get it?"

This boy was around Gabriel's age; he knew this to be a fact, though he wasn't quite sure how. He wore a V-neck shirt, pale grey, with faded purple shorts that reached his knees. His feet were bare, but Castiel noticed that he was sporting a loose, black band around his ankle with a tiny charm he couldn't quite see. A pair of tinted sunglasses were tucked into his collar, giving him an air of defiance. Something in the back of his mind told him that this boy was no more than a couple of years older than Gabriel, but his face told another story; his blonde hair was impeccably ruffled and teased to give him that 'boy-band' appearance and tiny, yet noticeable hairs of the same colour had begun to accumulate about his face. What was more unnerving was his grey-blue eyes, far more piercing that his own. This boy was Balthazar.

"Um…" He couldn't find his voice.

Balthazar scoffed "Cat got your tongue, Cassie?"

He remembered this day; he and his parents, along with Gabriel and Anna (their younger sister) of course, had come to visit their eldest sibling for a couple of weeks. Their dad had insisted that his first son be shipped off to boarding school at a young age to, as he put it, 'grow up to be a greater man'. Balthazar had left them at just 8 years old and here he was, probably 14, bossing Castiel around as if he'd never left.

"I don't want to get it." He stood his ground.

His brother scowled menacingly "Go get it now, Cassie. I won't ask twice."

Something about his cold tone of voice was so commanding; or was it just the fact that Castiel could hear the threat lingering in his words? Either way, he found himself scurrying off in search of the flyaway Frisbee he'd apparently failed to catch.

It was an English beach, beautiful and tranquil despite the blazing sun. There were sunbeds laid all over the sand and children darting between silent parents, but it was nothing compared to the crowds they got in America. The sea wasn't a brilliant blue; it was more pale and grey than the ones back home, but Castiel felt like it fit perfectly amongst its surroundings. Lined up along the front of the beach were numerous stands, a small fairground and a shop selling dinghies and other holiday pastimes; for a moment, he considered popping in and buying a brand new Frisbee to save him time, but then he remembered that he was wearing swimming trunks and didn't have any money on him.

And then he spotted it, just a flicker of red amongst the rocks, but it was there. Castiel couldn't believe it as he stumbled over the sand towards his target, closer and closer, his legs burning with exertion… He skidded to a halt as the ground dipped. Somehow, he was standing by a cliff edge, his hands clutching the Frisbee to his bare chest. Voices were calling below, frantic and pleading.

"Castiel!" His mother "Oh my goodness! Castiel! Get down from there!"

He dared to peer over the edge to see what all the fuss was about. The people on the beach seemed miniscule from up there, like tiny ants flailing their arms about. It made him giggle.

The Frisbee suddenly slipped out of his grasp and down, down, down… scarcely catching the wind on its descent. He pulled his arms out like in that movie, what was it called? The one with the boat and all that kissing? He cringed; kissing was gross.

Wind surged past him, rustling his hair and screaming down his ear. His head was aching from all the shouting and he wanted to get down. He wanted his mum and dad, he wanted Gabriel and Anna, he even wanted Balthazar! But it was too late because he was already falling, just like the Frisbee. Only he didn't get caught in the wind, he just kept going, picking up speed as he went.

"Oh, god!"

He was going to die if he kept falling.

"My baby!"

The ground was coming closer; he could almost taste the sand.

"Castiel!"

Invisible hands pulling him down.

"Cassie!"

Blood boiling in his ears, chest tight, eyes closed…

"Cas?!"

He blinked back tears, though he wasn't quite sure where they'd came from. All he could see was a pair of green eyes, shimmering in the slowly ascending moonlight.

"Geez, buddy… a-are you OK?"

Dean was there, his rough hands brushing against Castiel's, and he felt safe.

"I… I think so? I'm not quite sure what happened."

The freckled man pulled back slightly, but his face was still crinkled with concern "You kinda just zoned out there for a moment. You, uh… you had me worried."

Why was he blushing like that?

Castiel bowed his head "Sorry, Dean."

"No, no… don't apologise, you idiot!" He chuckled "Let's get you back inside…"

"The plunger?"

Dean waved him off "Who cares?"

"I care," Castiel loosened the man's grip as he pulled away gently "Your bathroom is flooded and we need a plunger. I'm fine, I promise."

There was a tense moment of silence and Castiel was sure he was being rejected until it was broken.

Dean offered a weak smile "Uh, yeah… OK." He rubbed the back of his neck "You need any help getting down? It's kinda slippery."

Castiel rolled his eyes "I'm highly capable."

"Alright, alright!"

OK, so maybe he wasn't highly capable, but he managed to scramble his way onto the fire escape without dying. He saw that as a positive.

They'd already climbed down a couple of floors, but the stairs seemed to go on and on forever… It wasn't until he was staring down the never-ending flight of steps that he realized how high up they'd been. He felt his stomach lurch.

"Which floor?"

Dean counted silently with his fingers, mouthing the numbers and furrowing his brow for a solid 3 minutes until he responded "Er, should be the one below… I think."

It wasn't a very reassuring answer, but with the snowfall increasing around them, Castiel wouldn't care if they chose the wrong room at this point. He frowned at Dean's back as he thought about the many layers he'd chosen to wear before he was practically stripped down; he could have been warm.

The metal was icy beneath their feet and if not for the sturdy grip of their boots, Castiel was certain they'd have fallen several times. Luckily, Dean seemed relieved when he peered into the window and saw a child's bedroom; blue walls decorated with yellow polka dot dinosaurs and red fire trucks.

He chuckled "Their son, Jesse. Hell of a kid…"

The way he trailed off, the hint of laughter dissolving with a sad little smile, suggested that there was something more to it than that. Castiel wished he'd recoil from the bundle of secrets Dean seemed to acquire, but instead, he was drawn in; there were so many hidden doors waiting to be opened inside the man's head. He wanted more than anything to have free-roam and explore the fascinating mind that was Dean Winchester, but he knew that sooner or later, all opportunities to do so would cease to exist.

"How do we get inside?"

Dean shrugged "Knock, I suppose?"

He rapped his knuckles on the glass lightly, careful not to wake Jesse in case he was in bed. The room remained dark, not even the hallway burst into colour at the sound of them knocking.

And then Dean seemed to double over in pain, groaning and cursing under his breath "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What is it?" Castiel touched his shoulder hesitantly, worried that he might set him off.

Dean brought a hand over his face and sighed deeply "I just remembered… they're gone for the holidays. They're on some stupid skiing trip or something!"

He seemed angry and frustrated. Perhaps he blamed himself for dragging them up to the roof and down the drainpipes for no reason. Maybe he was even concerned for Castiel and his little 'episode' earlier on.

"It's OK, Dean. Maybe we should just-"

Smash.

"What are you doing?!"

Dean had pulled his hand back into his sleeve and broken the glass with one, clean shot. Tiny shards were cast in every direction, littering the fire escape and ground below, most likely. He glanced over his shoulder and offered Castiel a weary grin.

"Well, that's one way to do it, hey?"

The older man just glared back, completely and utterly shocked by how cool Dean was about all this. He seemed so familiar with kicking down doors and breaking windows; what was he hiding behind that smirk?

They slipped inside reluctantly, trying their best to avoid the glass, though finding it near-impossible considering it was all around them. Poor Jesse's room was now a serious hazard, which only sparked his anger.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Castiel practically growled.

Dean shrunk back, though only slightly "Getting my goddamn plunger back!"

"We've just broken into this apartment!"

"Me and the Turners are on a friends basis, Cas. Don't worry about it…"

He saw red "Don't worry about it? Seriously, Dean? All I can do is worry about it! I mean, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting so cagey? This isn't like you-"

"You don't even know me, Cas!" Dean was up in his face, eyes wild and nostrils flared "You come into my home, fuck me, forget about it, treat me like hell, break my toilet and now you're telling me how to act? Like you honestly know me! Ha, it's pathetic…"

"Oh, really? I thought it was fairly obvious that a 24 year old man shouldn't being acting like such a spoilt brat! You don't need to know a person that well to realize when they're being a child!" He spat the words out, trying his best to get the right reaction from Dean. He wanted to see the hurt in his eyes, he wanted him to know that he was in the wrong.

Instead, the younger man scoffed and shoved past him, disappearing down the hallway and returning with what Castiel presumed was his plunger; the room was dark and Dean was in and out too quickly for him to notice.

Castiel slumped against Jesse's bed with a sigh. There was glass and slowly melting snow covering the floor, the entire window frame had snapped in half. He acknowledged that with the briefest hint of awe, but his thoughts were mainly clouded with anger and confusion. Something was bothering Dean and as much as hated him at that moment, he couldn't bear to see the other man in pain, no matter how deserving of it he was.

He heaved himself off the bed and tried his best to gather most of the glass into a neat pile out of the way. As he worked, he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to ease the fluency of his movements, bending and reaching as much as his back would allow.

Once he'd finished the job as well as he could manage, he leaned against the splintered wood of the window frame and chewed his lip anxiously; he'd have to make it back to the roof by himself considering Dean had abandoned him. The memories of that day, the incident he'd thought was long forgot, were still plaguing his mind as he hopped onto the fire escape and pulled his collar close around his face. In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten about the navy blue tie he'd left on the desk in Jesse's room. The tie with his name, 'Castiel Novak', stitched into the label…

Yeah, it's really nothing special. Sorry, guys! But like I said, we kind of needed this 'pointless' chapter to set up the events in the next chapter. Hopefully, I'll have more fun writing chapter 5. And for those of you wondering when the M-rated chapter(s) will be coming, I'd imagine it will be either chapter 6 or 7. Please fave, follow and/or review. Like always, I'd really appreciate it! Thanks, guys.