Hello,
Here is the 7th chapter.
Thank you again and again to read me and send me messages.
Good reading,
Sydney8201
Chapter's music:
Collide by Howie Day
Chapter 7: Mechanical troubles
"Life is wholly spent to desire..."
Jean de la Bruyères
Castiel and Dean had to stay a week longer than they had originally planned in Rapid City. The police had allowed Castiel to leave the city only after they had gotten hold of the two men who had assaulted the young woman. The young man had had to register his deposition, confirm that he didn't want to file a complaint for assault and battery and agree to identify his two attackers behind a two-way mirror. Dean had waited for him at the motel all this time. They hadn't mentioned the incident in Rapid City again, and Castiel was beginning to wonder since how long they had become experts to talk for hours without saying anything.
They had visited together Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial and the many national parks of the Black Hills. They had even made a detour to Deadwood that Dean had deemed "as artificial and false as Las Vegas". They then had left the area and South Dakota to take the road that would lead them to St. Louis, Memphis, Nashville, Baton Rouge and then New Orleans. The road was long and the stop-overs spaced but Dean was very excited to return to Louisiana where he remembered having experienced some memorable weeks.
Castiel would just follow the directions and advice of his friend, happy to see him smile again at the idea of seeing a place that obviously reminded him very good memories.
They were on the border between Nebraska and Iowa, near Omaha, when Castiel's car began to play up. It was quite old and had not been checked by a professional before the hasty departure of the young man. Dean told him repeatedly that he had been wrong to be so little vigilant and laughed at his obvious inability to do a simple check of oil level. Castiel let him bother him about it, making fun of his obvious love of mechanics. Dean then told him how much he had enjoyed working with Bobby - whom Castiel still knew nothing more than the name - on the many cars he kept on his property, most of which had not been driven for centuries. He explained how he had fixed some out of nothing and then sold them to customers who didn't have big budgets. Finally, he spoke of the old Chevrolet of his father, a 67 Impala, which Dean seemed totally in love with. It had obviously been his home for part of his life and Castiel noted that new information about his companion in a corner of his mind.
They were a few kilometers from Kansas City when the engine of Castiel's car simply stopped working. Dean immediately swore under his breath, getting out from behind the wheel. They were in the middle of nowhere, on a lost road from the depths of Kansas and their phones seemed unwilling to receive any signal.
Castiel joined his companion in front of the car, a little ashamed. He absolutely knew nothing in mechanics. He had never replaced a wheel or even refilled windshield washer fluid. He was completely helpless in such circumstances and he could only count on Dean's experience to get themselves out of this impasse.
It was hot at that time of day and the sun was beating down dangerously above their heads. Castiel again checked his mobile. No signal. They had taken this road on Dean's insistence who wanted to enjoy the scenery and not be bothered by the other road users who were all driving, according to him "like cripple fogey". It had been nice to be alone on the road, lost in the middle of fields and the surrounding forests. But they had not seen a single car in over two hours and Castiel was starting to see the risks and disadvantages of the plan of his companion.
If he was responsible for the state of his car, Dean was, as for him, responsible for their isolation. He didn't intend to let himself being blamed for everything.
Castiel took out two bottles of water from the cooler in his trunk and gave one to Dean with a smile. The young man was turning around the car without touching it, obviously a little at lost as to what could have caused the breakdown.
Their trip had been quiet since leaving Rapid City. They had stopped here and there to admire nature or visit local museums whose exhibits amused them. They had seen the ones of weaving loom, of shoemaking and of agricultural machinery. They had laughed a lot in trying to guess what was the use of each of the exposed machines and had ended up having to leave the museum when the person in charge of the premises had reproached them for not being sufficiently respectful. Dean had joked while getting into the car about the notion of respect of a tractor or a combine harvester and Castiel had laughed with him for several kilometers. They had followed the same routine that since the beginning of their trip. They slept in motels and in separate rooms. They lunched together in road restaurants or fast food on motorway services. They sometimes dined outside and sometimes in their rooms, watching TV and making fun of the programs broadcasted. Castiel particularly loved these evenings they spent sitting side by side on a bed, laughing at the stupidity of people who took part in reality shows. Dean had gone out alone only once after leaving Rapid City. Castiel had heard him return with a woman later and had spent much of the night ignoring the moans of his companion and fulminating against the poor soundproofing of motels in general.
Everything had been perfect since the Rapid City incident. But under the blazing sun of Kansas in mid afternoon, Castiel sensed that Dean's good mood was gone, giving way to anger and frustration.
The young man was shooting a dirty look at the car, apparently deep in thought. Castiel wanted to ask if he had any idea what had caused the breakdown, but he doubted that his friend was in the mood to answer. He therefore only watched him skirt around the car once again before coming to a stop in front of the hood. He then turned to Castiel, hands on hips, sweat dripping on his forehead.
"Open it." He demanded.
Castiel wished he could do what he was demanding in the next second. But he was perfectly unable to open the hood. He knew there had to be a controller somewhere inside the car. But he didn't even know where to look. He looked at Dean for a few seconds without moving. His companion finally realized that he wasn't able to do what he demanded and walked to the driver's door with a quick step. He opened it and leaned, grumbling, and fumbled under the steering wheel for a while. Castiel watched him, fascinated by the sweat that had dripped into his back and glued his t-shirt to his skin. His eyes lingered one second also on his buttocks, whose outline was perfectly brought out by the skinny jeans he was wearing.
The click of the hood opening startled Castiel and pulled him out of his daydream. Dean stood up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and returned in front of the car. He lifted the hood, blocked it so it wouldn't fall on him and then watched the engine with an interested look.
Castiel should probably have been worried that his companion might be unable to start the car and that they might be forced to wait for hours until someone deigns to pass on the road. But he couldn't worry about all this when he was admiring the way Dean's clothes seemed to stick to his skin, highlighting the perfection of his body.
It was a distraction that would eventually undoubtedly cost him a lot. However, he was unable to look away and he allowed himself to contemplate the young man as he leaned over the engine. He realized he was talking to him only when Dean straightened up to glare at him.
"Are you listening or what?"
Castiel tore himself from his contemplation and felt his cheeks blush. He eventually shook his head and Dean let out a long sigh of annoyance.
"Okay, I repeat my question. When was your last visit to a garage?"
Castiel would have liked to be able to answer immediately but he had to delve into his memories to find the answer to his question. He assumed that it was not a good thing that he fails to remember it easily. He had never really paid attention to the health of his car. As long as it worked, he was satisfied. Mechanics was a mystery to him. And he had never been interested in it.
"One year… maybe two years ago." He eventually answered.
At the face that made his companion, he knew it was not the answer he expected. He bit his lip for a second, a little ashamed. Dean shook his head.
"No wonder she ended up dying on us. This car is a wreck." He observed, turning in his attention on the engine.
"So you can't do anything about it?"
Dean shrugged and leaned over the engine, his arms crossed and pressed against the hot metal.
"I didn't say I couldn't do anything but… I don't perform miracles either. However, if she agrees to restart, we'll have to make a detour to a garage worthy of the name and have her checked. I can't believe you haven't done that before."
Castiel remained silent. He knew he was at fault and he didn't particularly want to make matters worse by trying to defend himself. He took a sip of his water and then threw the bottle on the driver's seat through the open window.
"Do you at least have tools?" Dean asked after a few seconds of silence.
Castiel nodded and went back rummaging through his trunk. He took out a tool kit that the former owner of the car had left him the day he had bought the vehicle. He then brought it to Dean and watched the young man crouch to rummage inside. He took out several tools that Castiel didn't know the utility before refocusing on the engine. Castiel then tore himself from his contemplation and watched the landscape around them. Everything was incredibly quiet in the area. There was no other sound than that of birds singing. It was a perfect place to enjoy the sun. Or being attacked without witnesses. Castiel swallowed hard. They were surrounded by cornfields and trees. They had not passed any house since they had taken this road and it was obvious that no one would come to their rescue any time soon. Dean was their only chance to get out of here. Castiel crossed his fingers for him to finally find the source of the breakdown.
"You worked in a garage right?" He asked to break the silence around them.
Dean seemed busy unscrewing something and he did not answer immediately. Castiel leaned against the driver's door and surveyed in front of him, somewhere in the corn field.
"Bobby didn't have a garage strictly speaking… more a kind of junkyard. But I've sometimes worked on some of his cars. It's incredibly exciting to start from scratch and successfully rebuilding a car from nothing. And I've also happened to work here and there in garages since I left… I'm not a professional but I get by."
Castiel nodded, relieved that his companion was more useful than himself in such a situation. If he had been alone when his car had given away, he probably would have been stuck here for hours.
"I've never really taken an interest in all that… mechanics is… it's something I don't understand." He confessed, wiping his forehead.
It was incredibly hot and there were no clouds on the horizon. It was a beautiful day.
"You were decided on a career in medicine. It's not really different. The human body is a machine like the others, isn't it?" Dean said, continuing what he was doing in the engine.
Castiel acquiesced. The comparison was indeed adequate. The human body functioned more or less like a car engine. A mechanic and a doctor had similar professions in the end. They just didn't have the same tools and the same things to be repaired.
"Maybe, but I never really started my medical studies. I stopped before entering the Faculty. I know a few things but it's only theoretical."
"Then it'd be best for me to not have a heart attack when I'm alone with you."
"It would be preferable." Castiel commented, smiling.
He had learned the first aid techniques and he was able to do heart massage and mouth-to-mouth. But he doubted he could save anyone in such a situation. He turned back to Dean again and let his gaze wander on the back and then the buttocks of the young man. He was incorrigible. A hopeless case.
"Who taught you all that?" He eventually asked.
Dean stood up and wiped his hands on his thighs. He then reached for a new tool before looking at Castiel.
"Mainly Bobby… my father a bit, too. He was a mechanic before."
Before. Castiel would have liked to know before what. But he didn't ask. Dean would probably have refused to answer.
"You never planned to make it your job?"
Dean shrugged and grabbed the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. Castiel had time to see his flat and muscled stomach a few seconds before the fabric covers it again. He passed his tongue on his lips and he knew at the look Dean gave him that he had been spotted.
"Would have required me to do studies… to get a degree, and I haven't even finished high school. No… I'm a self-taught."
Castiel smiled then let Dean go back to what he was doing under the hood. They stayed in silence for long minutes before the young man decides to take the water bottle he had thrown on the driver seat to bring it to Dean. He didn't know what his companion had done of his own but he needed to drink. He risked sunstroke if he didn't properly hydrate himself.
"Thanks." Dean said, taking the bottle in his hand.
He took a long drink and Castiel could not help observing the few drops that escaped the bottle and rolled down his neck. Sometimes, he really hated himself. Because his body was a traitor and he could feel it tense appreciably. Okay. This was probably due to the heat. Keep thinking that Castiel… if that makes you feel better, he thought to himself.
"Okay, can you try to restart?" Dean asked.
Castiel nodded and did as his companion asked. The engine emitted a kind of cough but refused to start. Dean swore under his breath and Castiel sighed deeply.
"If it's the battery, we're screwed. We'd need alligator clips and another car to restart her… even then, it would be temporary."
Castiel had no idea what were alligator clips but he nodded to indicate to his companion he had heard him. He then straightened up and came place himself beside the young man. He watched the engine for long seconds, fascinated by the set of cables and casings which formed the heart of a car. This was clearly complex and he had admiration for those who understood something about this mess. Dean leaned again over the hood and began to touch several parts with a concentrated look. Castiel felt totally helpless and it frustrated him at the highest point. He wondered what was the point of having done four years of study he was unable to get by in everyday life. He had long been a helpless person, having recourse to external assistance every time something didn't work. He was totally unable to fend for himself. Dean, him, seemed to know what he was looking for.
"It may be that the engine has just overheated. The radiator is burning and if it's too old, it may not be doing its job of cooling. Gimme the water bottle."
Dean could have spoken in Greek to him, Castiel wouldn't have made a distinction. He heard the words the young man uttered but found no meaning to them. He contented himself to do what he was asked and handed him the water bottle. Dean opened it and poured some on a device on his left. Smoke immediately gushed and the young man quickly moved his face back.
"Okay, it may be that." He commented.
Castiel nodded even though he still didn't understand what was positive about what was happening before his eyes. He eventually turned his back to the engine and took some steps in front of him.
"You know, I find it all fascinating." He said to his companion, stepping a bit more away from him.
"What do you find fascinating?"
Castiel made an about-turn and immediately regretted his decision. At this distance, he was at the perfect place to admire the body of Dean, the sweat darkening the clear fabric of his shirt, the way his jeans seemed to stick to his buttocks, or his strong bowlegs. He had the feeling of being a voyeur. But he could not help looking. He lost for a second the thread of his thoughts before remembering Dean had asked him a question and it was best to answer.
"You… the fact that you're here and you can do something for my car."
"And how is it fascinating?"
Castiel smiled, thrusting his hands in his pockets. He was too hot and he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead. It probably would have been more prudent to take refuge inside the car to shelter from the sun. But if Dean could bear to be exposed to it, Castiel refused to hide from it.
"If I hadn't meet you and my car had given away in the middle of nowhere, I would have been stuck. But you're here and… it's almost as if fate was giving me a little help and was encouraging me in my choices."
"Oh, fate? You really believe in that crap?"
There was derision in Dean's tone but no aggressiveness. Castiel had never really thought about these things. He had no time to examine subjects that his parents considered "trivial" when he had studies to do and practical problems to solve. Castiel believed in God. This was partly due to his education. His parents were extremely believers and practicing. They went together to Mass every Sunday. Castiel had listened priests explain to him for hours and hours of that nothing was due to chance and that everything that happened before their eyes was the will of God. They were not free to choose. They were guided by a superior force. But Castiel doubted that God was responsible for the presence of Dean in his life. He would never have tolerated that a man openly bisexual and obviously adept of sadomasochism was his guide on the road he had taken. And if the Lord was not the one who had put Dean in his way, then there was nothing left but fate to point at. Castiel did not know if he really believed in it but it was an idea that appealed to him.
"I don't know if I really believe in it but… it's comforting to think that you were destined to cross my path and that we are here together because we have things to offer to each other."
Dean poured water again under the hood of the car and Castiel wondered for a second what God would think of the way he had to look greedily at the body of his companion. He was probably disapproving.
"Maybe it is… but I think it's just that, precisely. A way to comfort ourselves. A possibility to think that, whatever way we act, we couldn't have done anything to prevent this from happening to us. It's a way to clear your name of all the terrible things we've done in the past. It's a little easy in my opinion."
Castiel found Dean's reasoning sensible although somewhat depressive. He was ready to argue when the young man swore violently under his breath, cutting him in his tracks. Dean had straightened up and was shaking his hand before him. When Castiel came at his level, he found that his companion's hand was bleeding profusely.
"Hey Dean, are you okay?" He asked immediately.
The young man was wincing in pain and still shaking his hand. Castiel then grabbed his wrist to observe the wound. It was not very deep but it was relatively long. It put a line through the palm of the hand of the young man from his thumb to his little finger. And the blood was still flowing.
"Okay, I will… I'm going to clean that." He explained.
He released the wrist of Dean then rushed to the back of the car. He grabbed his first aid kit and a new water bottle. When he returned to his companion, he had closed the hood and was seated on it. He had put his arm on his legs, his injured palm up. He seemed to suffer.
"It's no big deal, you know… I've had worse." Dean commented.
Castiel knew he had to live far more traumatic experiences than his cut on the hand. You only had to see the condition of his chest and his back to know that. But Castiel refused to see the wound fester. They would then be forced to stop at the hospital to treat it and he doubted that Dean likes the attention he would receive in such a place. So he paid no attention to the protests of his companion and put his first aid kit next to the thigh of the young man to open it.
"I know it's not serious but that doesn't prevent me from looking. So please, stop complaining."
Dean looked away and Castiel began pouring water on his hand to be able to see the wound properly. He then took out disinfectant and sprayed it on a sterile compress. He looked up at his companion.
"It's gonna sting." He warned him.
He then pressed the compress against the wound and waited a few seconds that the disinfectant has done its job. He then withdrew it and placed it on the hood next to the first-aid kit. He took another look at the wound. It was not really serious, but it could have required stitches. He however didn't point it out to Dean, already knowing that the latter would categorically refuse to see a doctor.
"I'm going to bandage it and you'll have to clean it regularly, okay?"
He got no response and looked up again to see his companion's face. He was obstinately looking to the side, his lower lip trapped between his teeth and his cheeks were slightly red. He didn't actually seemed to suffer but something was embarrassing him. Castiel wanted to ask him what was going on but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Oh yes… hem… okay… good. Thanks Cas." Dean stammered, substantially moving his legs.
Castiel frowned and grabbed a bandage in the first aid kit and wrapped it around the hand of his companion. He did his best to ignore the heat emitted by Dean's body and the strange way he had to move on the car hood. He was visibly uncomfortable. Castiel didn't understand what could happen in his head.
"Dean, can you please try to stay still?" He asked, annoyed by the strange behavior of his companion.
He had almost finished the bandage when Dean suddenly jumped from the hood, nearly making him fall down. He slammed his injured hand against his chest and quickly walked away from Castiel. The latter followed him with his eyes, shocked by his behavior. He wanted to protest, but Dean didn't seem willing to listen. He was walking up and down on the road, head down and panting. Castiel watched him, looking for any explanation for what had happened. It was only when his eyes slid down his chest to check that his bandage was still in place, and that they stopped at his crotch that he finally understood the problem. Dean was excited. Physically very excited. This was evident with the particularly skinny jeans he was wearing. And it was not only due to the proximity of Castiel when he had nursed him. This was consecutive to the pain caused by the wound to his hand. The young man had yet assured him that he didn't have a ball in suffering. Obviously, he had not been totally honest on this point.
"Oh you…" Castiel started before falling silent.
He found nothing more to say at what was an extremely embarrassing situation for his companion. He doubted that the latter may need to be reassured. And Castiel was unable to find the right words. He did not understand how one could be aroused by pain. How someone could have this kind of reaction by cutting their hand?
"It's just… the heat and all." Dean affirmed, turning his back to him.
But they both knew that the sun that was still beating down over their heads was in no way responsible for his condition. Castiel could play the game and pretend he believed the lie of his companion. However, he had a chance to know a little more about what was going on in the head of the young man and he was eager to seize it. He only hoped that Dean would be cooperative. And that himself would he be able to master his emotions. For seeing Dean aroused in this way had an effect on him. He couldn't deny it.
"Is it because you hurt yourself?" He eventually dared to ask.
Dean slowly turned to him, his injured hand tight against his chest, his other arm oddly pressed against his crotch.
"No… no, I told you, I don't… it's not something I enjoy."
It was another lie and for a second, Castiel couldn't help thinking about the scars. Were they the result of the sexual practices of his companion? Had they been inflicted with his consent? No. Dean had cried when showing him and it was not only because he was ashamed. They reminded him awful memories.
"Dean, I just need to understand and you don't have to be ashamed of anything. Everyone finds pleasure wherever they want." He assured.
Dean looked down at his feet and seemed to take a few seconds to think about what to say. Castiel did not understand that one could take pleasure in suffering. Sex was supposed to bring pleasure to people. Not pain. But he knew that many people liked to mix the two sensations. He had just never met anyone before Dean who did anything like this.
"It's just… it's not always like that. I swear I don't like to really being hurt. I don't like to bleed. I just… I need it at times. It never goes beyond a spanking or a bit brutal penetration. I don't want to be hit for hours. And my hand it's…"
He paused and looked up to fix the field in front of him. Castiel could feel the sweat running down his neck into his back and the heat was seriously beginning to make him feel bad. But he was not lying when he said to his companion that he wanted to understand what could trigger such reactions in him. He really wanted to solve this mystery. Although he doubted one day be able to enjoy this type of experience.
"I'm not ashamed of what I like. When I cut myself, I didn't feel anything special except pain… believe me. Hurting myself to the hand had nothing exciting. But then, you had to touch me and to… to be kind and with the heat and… the two combined… the pain of the cut and the softness of your fingers, I…"
"You couldn't help it."
Castiel was beginning to grasp the mechanism of the sexual preferences of Dean. He didn't have a blast simply by suffering. It was the pain combined to the contact with another man that had made him react this way. He liked to mingle a bit of pain to pleasure. But he also needed tenderness. Castiel couldn't help being relieved.
"I'm not saying that it's because you were the one to touch me that I had that reaction."
Dean was maybe not trying to be hurtful but his words were not necessarily very pleasant to hear.
"Okay, thanks for the compliment." Castiel hastened to reply, grimacing.
He was aware of not being as attractive as Dean. He knew he wasn't sufficiently muscular and that his face didn't have the delicate features of his companion. He had always loved his eyes of a very clear blue. He had often been complimented on it. But Castiel had no illusions. He didn't play in the same category as the young man.
"It's not… Cas, please… You know full well that this is not what I meant." Dean said, stepping in his direction.
His arousal was a little less obvious than a few minutes ago but it was still visible. Castiel cursed himself to feel the need to check at regular intervals.
"You're very attractive and… your eyes are incredible. You have a perfect body and… your mouth… I swear your mouth is wonderful. As for your voice… it's made to give chills to those who hear it. It's not that I don't find you very sexy and attractive… it's just that I don't want you to think that… I have thoughts about you."
"You find me attractive but you'd refuse to sleep with me." Castiel summed up, still hurt.
He didn't understand the reasoning of his companion. If they liked each other, they had no reason to hesitate. They should already have had sex. They should even do it all the time. Because Castiel didn't ask Dean to engage in a relationship with him. He knew it was impossible. He wouldn't say, however, no to a bit of sex.
"No, I refuse to ask you to do what I need because it's not you… this is not what you like." Dean corrected.
Castiel was tempted to tell him he was wrong and that he was ready to try this experiment. He was ready to do anything to get what he wanted. But he knew he would never be able to be totally comfortable if Dean asked him to rough him or insult him. He was not the kind of man to like dominating his partners. He much preferred to show himself tender and delicate.
"I just need a few minutes to regain a semblance of calm, okay? You should… you should try to start the car while I regain my composure."
Castiel was not against the idea of moving a bit away from his companion. He needed to put distance between himself and the object of his desire. He knew that temptation would always be there. He spent his days in the company of young man. But he refused to watch any longer the sight that he presented when he was excited like that. It was more than what Castiel felt able to bear. He finally nodded and returned the car's driver side. He turned the key in the ignition and smiled when the engine agreed to start. He straightened up, smiling, and then turned back to Dean. The young man was again turned to the fields, but he seemed much calmer now. He had let his arms fall along his body and his breathing had returned to a normal rhythm.
"You may not perform miracles but you're damned good!" Castiel exclaimed, relieved at the thought that they were finally able to leave.
He knew that being locked in the car with Dean after what had happened would probably not be easy. But he wanted to leave this place and try to forget what he had just witnessed.
"Don't get ahead of yourself Cas… it's temporary. We gotta get her checked by a professional ASAP."
Castiel nodded before watching Dean collect the tools that were lying on the floor and store everything correctly. The young man then did the same with the first aid kit. He put everything in the trunk and then moved to the passenger seat. Castiel waited to hear the door slam to get behind the wheel. He drove into the road again, his smile firmly in place on his face.
"We should stop in Kansas City to find a mechanic and spend the night over there." Dean claimed, wiping his face covered in sweat with his non-bandaged hand.
Castiel was ready to accept anything as long as they finally left this deserted road which had covered one of the most awkward moments they had shared since they knew each other. Kansas City could not be very far and they were in need of some rest after all the emotions that they had lived. And Castiel was dreaming of a good shower. Preferably cold. He well might have kept control over his body, he was nevertheless still a bit troubled by what he had seen. Beside him, Dean seemed fascinated by the landscape that was passing through the passenger window.
"You are from Kansas, aren't you?" Castiel asked after a few seconds of silence.
Dean didn't turn his head towards him but he answered immediately.
"Lawrence yes."
"Oh, I think I saw a sign indicating the entrance of the town before we take this detour and…"
Castiel paused, realizing that his companion had deliberately taken this road when they were about to enter the town where he was born. The young man had then said that he preferred to avoid the main roads and the other road users but it was clear now that he had above all wanted to avoid driving across Lawrence. Castiel immediately wondered why. But he didn't ask. He knew that once again, he would get no response.
"Kansas City isn't far." He eventually said.
Dean had probably understood that he had unveiled his secret. But he did not seek to justify or defend himself. He just looked at the landscape that was passing before his eyes, letting the air lash his face. Castiel forced himself to keep his eyes on the road. If his companion had voluntarily chosen not to go through Lawrence, it was undoubtedly because he had his reasons. He remembered the young man had told him that he had lived there only four years. It was too little to consider Lawrence as his town. As his home. Undoubtedly he had no ties. Or too many bad memories.
"I wonder if we could find out there one of those strange museums that highlight local stuff that nobody cares about." Castiel said to lighten the mood.
He got no reply and dropped the idea of making conversation with Dean. He turned on the car radio instead and chose a station that was broadcasting old classic rock. He began to follow the beat of the music with the fingertips and wiped from his mind all the questions that were playing in a loop for several minutes. He was with a man he liked to consider as his friend in the middle of the United States, far from his family and his obligations. He had actually every reason to be happy. He felt free. Of course, the secrets that Dean hid inevitably weighed between them. Their relationship could never flourish if the young man refused to confide more often. But Castiel had decided to deal with. He easily guessed that the past of his companion must be filled with bad memories and painful experiences. He was fleeing for a year now those who had hurt him. He had scars all over his body and obvious traumas that prevented him from leading a normal life. Castiel found him fascinating. He saw him as a complex puzzle of which he had to assemble parts while ignoring what picture he would discover in the end. It was exciting and also terrifying. It was nothing like what Castiel had imagined living when he had left home.
The fresh air coming through the open window made him a world of good. It had allowed him to put his ideas in order and put out the fire that seemed to have seized him when he had realized that Dean was excited. If Castiel put aside what had aroused his companion, he realized how the young man was handsome when he was in this state. His eyes shone. His face took on a red tint that made him adorable. Castiel already knew that this image would pursue him for several days. He had material to build his next fantasy. And even if he was sometimes ashamed to use Dean for his masturbation sessions, he could not deny that he had never had orgasms as powerful that since he thought of him while doing it. It was probably twisted. It probably made him a pervert. But he still couldn't help himself. He would possibly end up getting tired of it. He doubted that.
"You mind if I sleep?" Dean asked, pulling Castiel out of his daydreams.
The latter immediately shook his head before casting a glance at his companion. He had crossed his arms over his chest and had noticeably sunk on his seat. He seemed indeed exhausted. He already had his eyes closed and seemed about to fall asleep. Castiel wondered a second if his friend was trying to escape a potential conversation with him by falling asleep. Maybe he just wanted to forget the shame he had felt a few minutes ago. Castiel didn't care because he found it extremely soothing to feel Dean at his side, to listen to his deep breathing when he was asleep in the passenger seat and to let the warmth of his body invading his own. It was something he could well be satisfied with until the end of the trip. Something he would have difficulty to do without if indeed he should be deprived of from one day to the next. He was determined to do everything so that his companion remained at his side. He really liked what they had. Although he would probably continue to dream of more. To imagine better. Or to hope that his prayers were finally heard by whoever had put Dean in his way.
