A/N: So this one's a little short, and still really sad (apologies) Next chapter will be longer, though - and feature a whole range of fluff, pining, and probably hurt, too Anyway, enjoy, and expect chapter 8 in a few days!
Ridincastielintheimpala - Ah, wow, thank you so much! I'm super glad you like it! Here's one more chapter, at least - next one should come in a few days ;)
Chapter 7
The Novak living room looks different with so many people and chairs clustered in it. It was big to begin with, big and welcoming and beautifully furnished, but now it seems all kinds of unpromising to Dean and he finds himself shifting awkwardly on his feet in some sort of nervous anticipation.
His eyes sweep the room, the people occupying it: Mary sits opposite Jimmy's brother, Chuck, who is sat on a very low black seat, as Mary speaks to him in her low, soft voice—the one she saved for when Dean fell over as a child or Sammy came home crying from being teased at school. She uses it now for mourning, just as she used it when telling Dean and Sam that their dad wouldn't be coming home any more, wouldn't be coming home ever, that they'd bury his limp, scorched body in a place with far too many flowers to justifiably make Dean think of death.
Gabriel sits on the low seat next to his uncle and looks almost bored, but Dean knows him well enough to understand that this isn't the case. Gabe's eyes are distant and watery, his lips parted. He doesn't even seem to be breathing, his body is so still. Michael, next to him, on another small seat, catches Dean entering the room and offers him a curt not, lips pursed. He seems distracted.
The seat next to Michael is left vacant. Where's Cas?
Dean's eyes sweep the room again—and once more, his heart breaks with longing.
Sat cross-legged on the floor opposite a little girl, Castiel speaks in his soft, rough voice, his smile sad.
Dean's breath catches in his throat. He thinks of everything he lost. Everything he could have had—if only life had been a little kinder. A little kinder to him.
He approaches Castiel cautiously.
"Hey," His voice grazes his throat. "I got you—"
He can't seem to finish his sentence when Castiel looks up at him. His voice makes a strange, grating noise and the words turn to ash in his mouth.
Castiel looks at the plate in his hand.
"Oh," He says, taking it from Dean. "Thank you."
Dean nods, and forces what he's pretty damn sure is a stupidly pained smile.
The little girl looks up at him.
"Did you know Uncle Jimmy, too?"
"I—uh—" Dean struggles for his words, blinking furiously. "Yeah," He confirms. "I did."
"Are you friends with Castiel?" The girl asks. Dean swallows, looking first into her syrup coloured eyes, then to Castiel.
"I'm—" He stares at Cas, uselessly, unable to answer, caught completely off-guard by those bright blue eyes.
"Mara, this is Dean Winchester," Castiel says, looking over to his—well, cousin, Dean assumes. He's got a little catching up to do on Cas's family. "He used to live in the house opposite this one."
"The green one?" The girl—Mara—asks.
"That's it," Castiel confirms.
"So he was your neighbour?" She asks. Castiel smiles weakly and nods.
"He was."
Mara looks up to Dean again. Dean rips his gaze away from Cas's face.
"Castiel normally lives in Europe," She states, as though this is just about the most impressive thing she knows. Dean's smile in response to those deep brown eyes is almost sincere.
Almost.
"I've heard," He laughs. Without thinking, he settles himself onto the floor next to Cas and the girl, crossing his legs as they have—then he catches himself, flushing, and glances at Cas with worried eyes—is this okay? Is it okay, considering everything? Cas only gives him a small shrug and turns away, Dean assumes it means that, begrudgingly, Castiel is fine with Dean sitting here for the time being.
He still hurts like hell.
"Where do you normally live?" The girl asks. Dean swallows and glances at Castiel once more. The other man doesn't look at him, only stares down at the food on his plate, expression distant.
"Um—" Dean coughs, splutters awkwardly. "Not in Europe," He laughs. Then he kicks himself internally. "And not in the green house opposite this one, any more. I live in town, close to work—"
"What do you do?" Mara asks. Dean squirms uncomfortably in his seat.
"Nothing as cool as Castiel—" He shakes his head. "Just—this and that." Which is sort of true. Dean keeps multiple jobs to pay the bills, miserably churning through his own life, even through the parts of it he likes more—like some aspects of his work. "I teach music to high school students and give guitar lessons and sometimes perform at The Roadhouse—"
"Oh," Mara seems to have lost interest. Castiel peers silently at Dean. "Castiel is a writer."
Dean chokes around his reply.
"I know."
"Will you miss your dad?" The girl turns to Castiel with her big, brown eyes. Dean wants to be fiddling with something, but has nothing to hold on to, so just fumbles with his fingers as Cas continues to pointedly give him the silent treatment. Which, all things considered, Dean can't exactly blame him for.
Cas's eyes are soft as they regard the little girl. Dean wonders how old she is—she can't be older than eight or nine, or else Dean would've met her, or at least heard about her.
"I will," Castiel looks down, picking up an almond and tapping it on the plate distractedly. The noise is somehow both rounded and hollow. "Yes…" He confirms, voice distant. "But that's okay." He pauses, pink lips parted, still looking down. "And it's okay to be sad about it. It reminds me that he meant a lot to me, that he was a good man. And he was." Castiel looks up to Mara again and smiles a closed-mouth smile through watery eyes. "And I wouldn't have wished for any other father. Even if that new father could never die. I'd choose your Uncle Jimmy, every time."
Mara has stood up and pulls Castiel towards her for a hug. He laughs awkwardly, tearily, as she stands at least a head taller than him from where he sits on the floor, hugging him tightly.
"I'm gonna go find Beth," She informs him. "I hope you feel better soon, Castiel."
Castiel offers a faint smile.
"Thank you,"
Dean watches as Mara walks away.
When he turns back to Cas, the other man seems to be pointedly avoiding his gaze once again.
"So that was your…"
"Cousin, once removed," Castiel presses his lips together. "Muriel's daughter."
"Muriel has a daughter?"
"Obviously," Castiel glares at Dean, who shrinks down and shrivels up a little inside.
"Okay, sorry. Stupid question." He frowns at the ground and fumbles with his hands again. "So, is she married, now?"
"To Daniel," Castiel answers simply.
"Oh," Dean swallows. That's news.
It's amazing that already, they've run out of conversation. They, who once used to talk for whole nights at a time, Dean and Castiel, who used walkie-talkies to use to speak to each other through all the small hours when they were kids, even when they were young adults and had phones. Dean kept his walkie-talkie under his bed. Cas did the same. Any time of night, one might pick his up to speak to the other. Those days were long gone.
"So… Mara. Amara's granddaughter?"
"Amara's granddaughter," Castiel confirms distantly.
Silence.
Dean's eyes burn in a particularly unforgiving way.
"Well, I should probably get outta your hair," Dean starts, standing, taking a shuddering breath. At last, Castiel looks up at him.
Blue eyes shatter through his chest, ripping at his skin and soul.
Dean stops short, unable to continue, let alone breathe.
"Thank you…" Castiel frowns, lips parted, and suddenly his gaze is far too removed, eyes far too distant, to be ripping at Dean's flesh. "Thank you for coming. And for the cookies. You didn't have to, and I know—" He swallows, looking away. "Just… thank you."
Dean somehow manages to sigh without breathing at all.
"I wanted to be here for you," He replies honestly, licking his lips. "Wouldn't miss it." He swallows at the pained truth of his words. "Not ever."
For the first time he can remember in nine years, Castiel smiles at Dean.
"Thank you, Dean."
His name on Cas's lips has Dean's heart tearing with the saddest kind of happiness he thinks he's ever felt. He never knew melancholy could taste so sweet. He never knew loneliness could feel so wistful. He never knew love could ache like loss.
...
A/N: Thanks for reading, sorry it's been so sad so far - the first chapter from Cas's perspective should come round pretty soon :)
Please comment! Hope you enjoyed
