Enjoy this next chapter. Like I said it's a very slow build.
Castiel feels hot all over.
Like the air is being extracted from the room and his lungs are beginning to concave.
Gabriel is here.
Dean is here.
Shit, Fuck, Shit.
"Cassy," Gabriel's voice is nearing.
He stands upright.
Dean is watching him.
"Don't move," Castiel instructs.
No way in hell does Dean get to see this.
No fucking way.
He's out the door, slamming it shut.
Gabriel's staggering up the stairs.
"Castiel," Gabriel smiles; he's leaning against the cream wall to keep himself upright.
"Go to bed," Castiel orders, his voice is monotonous.
"M'trying," He defends, shifting forward slightly.
"Downstairs,"
Gabriel's face is confused. His room isn't downstairs.
"I have someone up here," Castiel explains desperately.
He doesn't need this embarrassment.
Gabriel's sparkling eyes widen before he breaks out into a grin.
"Ohhh, lemme see em,"
Gabriel shuffles up two stairs, but Castiel shoves him lightly.
"Hey!" Gabriel bites.
"Go downstairs. Now," He will use force if necessary.
"Whatever," Gabriel is too drunk for any real confrontation.
"Dick," Castiel mutters.
He watches as Gabriel trails downstairs, turning to the dark living room.
He's fuming.
Not that he didn't expect as much.
It's his own fault.
For letting Dean in in the first place.
It was stupid of him to assume otherwise.
He momentarily worries that Balthazar may pull an identical stunt.
But it's only been two days since he fucked off to god knows where, and his benders usually lasted a minimum of four days.
He returns to his room.
Dean hasn't moved.
He takes his place at the desk.
Finishes the last paragraph of the assignment.
He can feel Dean watching him.
Waiting, but he doesn't push.
Castiel's grateful at that.
Not that he needs Winchester's pity.
He doesn't feel sorry for himself.
He hates all that self-pitying shit.
It's his own goddam fault.
"Done,"
Dean looks up.
"Oh?"
"You can piss off now,"
"Castiel-"
"What?"
"I erm- it's nothing,"
That's right.
This is nothing. Castiel's family is not of Dean's concern.
The taller bay awkwardly gathers his stuff.
Castiel lights up his final cigarette.
"I guess I'll be going then," It's like he's questioning Castiel, does he want him to stay?
"Bye," He's not looking at Dean, he's at the window.
"Actually there is something,"
Castiel doesn't turn to look at him.
"God, what?"
"I get it,"
"Get what?"
Just beat it Winchester.
"My dad, he erm, drinks a lot too,"
Jeeze.
"You mean he's an alcoholic,"
Dean sighs. "Yes,"
Castiel sneers at that "Well what do you want? A fucking high five?"
Dean flinches a little.
"No,"
"I don't need your pity Winchester,"
"I don't fucking pity you, but I know what it feels like to have to deal with shit like that every night,"
Castiel doesn't respond.
"And you can pretend all you want, but we both know it sucks,"
"You don't know the half of it,"
"And you don't know shit about me, so stop being so up yourself,"
Castiel's looking at him now. Actually looking at him.
Dean feels like he's being scrutinized.
Castiel's eyes are dark.
No longer their usual cobalt shade.
"I don't want to know shit about you Dean," His voice is low. "I literally couldn't give a flying fuck,"
"I do,"
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to realise that we're more alike than you think," He's being honest. "That I'm not perfect,"
"Yes you are,"
"My mom died when I was five," he states. "I know you lost your mom too,"
"Don't talk about that bitch,"
"Nobody is perfect Castiel,"
His skin is prickling and he's close to shaking with anger at the mention of his mother. The cigarette butt drops from his hand and he puts it out with his bare foot, hissing slightly in pain.
"Go home Dean,"
He nods.
Dean actually leaves this time.
And Castiel's head is pounding.
He's so utterly confused his vision blurs.
His stomach cries in protest. He ignores it.
He's tired.
But he won't sleep.
He can't.
He never can.
