Author's Note: Hello, my lovely readers! (: How are we all doing? Probably not so well, because SCHOOL, but hopefully things will settle down soon! (:

So, apparently, FF wasn't letting people review for a bit on Tuesday? Typical. So a big thanks to those people who might have read the chapter, not reviewed, but came back a few days later and did review. (: You guys make my day.

Time for today's WALL OF FAME! *Dramatic drumming* All the internet hugs in the world to: more-profound-bond, liife2uck2, lessien Amandil, dancingonthehorizon, Chapa'ai-hi, Gustin azza (for both reviews!), a guest, becca65d, missiontothestars and tii-chan17! Thanks, guys! All your lovely words made my pretty crap week. (:

See you all on Tuesday,

~Rainbow Fruit Loop xx

~Praying for Redemption~
Chapter Ten.

When Dean got home that night, Cas was still hunched over his laptop, his fingers typing furiously as he tried to get all of his ideas down; his words jumbling in his eagerness not to forget anything.

"Hey, Cas." Dean said, closing the door behind him, before he threw his keys down on the kitchen bench.

Cas jumped in surprise; he'd completely lost track of time because he'd been too absorbed in his writing. He twisted his head towards the door, and regarded his roommate with friendly eyes.

"Hello, Dean. How was work?" Cas asked politely, setting his laptop down on the sofa. He got up and ambled over to where Dean was taking his boots off, and hovered awkwardly in a way that he thought Dean would find unnerving, but didn't.

"Cold." Dean flashed him a bright smile, and took his scarf off. "Cold, but fine. Anyway, we've got more important things to talk about, rather than my work. You're writing a book?"

Cas nodded.

"Huh. Is that what you were doing when I came in?" Dean asked, walking over to the fireplace to warm his hands over the flickering blaze. "Have you made a decision on what it's going to be about?"

Cas went over to the sofa, and sat back down. "Yes, I was drafting the first chapter, and yes, I have decided what I'm going to write about."

"What's it going to be on then, oh great one?" Dean asked, walking back over to the kitchen to peer lazily into the fully-stocked pantry.

"The unfairness of society, and how we don't always - if we ever - get what we want." Cas replied casually, hoisting his laptop back onto his knees. "And also the pointlessness of societal expectations, the harsh reality of our idealistic attitude towards love and happiness, and the broad, varying outlook towards death."

"Wow, don't get too happy there, Cas." Dean said sarcastically, his head still in the pantry. "You might sprain something, and we don't want that to happen."

Cas shrugged his shoulders, more to himself than to Dean. "I want it to be a book that tells the truth about the world. I don't want it to be a lie."

Dean pulled his head out of the cupboard - having retrieved a packet of potato chips - and cast Cas a look; a sad, sympathetic look that said so much without saying anything at all.

"You don't want it to be a lie?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed, and he moved into the living room to sit at his end of the sofa. "What do you mean?"

Cas chose his words carefully. "I think that the idea of happiness is a lie." he finally murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on his laptop's keyboard. "I don't think that someone can ever actually be properly happy. I think there's always going to be something in life to ruin everything."

Dean was silent for a few moments, and Cas regretted speaking up. Why did he always have to make things so awkward? Why did he have to portray himself as such a sad, lifeless person? Especially to the ever-blissful Dean, who surely saw the world through a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

"You… You don't think that it's possible to be truly happy?" Dean asked quietly, his eyes full of a sympathetic concern that made Cas want to squirm uncomfortably. "You don't think that you'll ever be happy?"

Cas shook his head firmly. "No."

Because that was the truth. As much as he wanted to believe that he could escape the horrors of everything that had happened to him, Cas didn't think that even Dean would be able to drown his demons.

"That's… sad, Cas. The-" Dean paused uneasily, obviously trying to decide whether or not he should say what was going through his head. "…The person you lost really was important to you, then, huh?"

Cas could feel his fingers shaking slightly as he traced gentle patterns against the keyboard in his lap. He kept his gaze resolutely downwards; self-conscious in all of Dean's concern.

"People."

Out of the corner of his traitorous eyes - eyes that, for some unexplainable reason, found themselves magnetically drawn to Dean's handsome face - Cas saw that Dean raised a confused eyebrow. "What?"

And then Cas looked up properly; his eyes now blazing and unreadable. "The people that I lost. They were important to me. Very important." He could hear his voice cracking, and he could feel the familiar burning sensation at the back of his eyes, but he wasn't going to cry. Not here, not now, not in this safe haven he had created for himself.

Dean inhaled sharply, surprised at Cas's response. "Shit- I'm sorry, Cas. Look, let's not talk about it anymore." He leant forwards to lightly pat Cas on the knee, but then pulled back; obviously thinking the better of it. "I don't want to upset you. But… if you do want to open up, you know you can always talk to me, right? I'm a good listener."

Cas nodded tightly, averting his eyes again. "…Thank you, Dean. It's just, I've never… I don't like to speak to people about what happened. Talking doesn't make it better, like they say it does. It just makes me remember too much."

Dean nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand, Cas, I do. I'll be here when you're ready. Now, do you want to watch some interesting reality TV? I think the Kardashians are on."

After watching an hour and a half of what seemed like a 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' marathon (which both men had started watching ironically, but, by the end, were completely enthralled with what was happening on the screen), Dean decided that it was time for food.

"Now, can you be bothered with cooking something?" Dean asked from his sprawled-out, taking-up-three-quarters-of-the-sofa position - which, frankly, Cas thought looked horrendously uncomfortable. His head was practically resting on Cas's thigh, because he'd insisted that he needed to stretch his legs out over the sofa to avoid getting cramp.

"No. I think we should get take-out." Cas commented from his little ball right at the end of the sofa. "I feel like burgers."

Dean groaned dramatically, sat up, and ran a hand through his already-sticking-out-at-weird-angles hair. "But the burger shop doesn't deliver, and I'll probably freeze to death if I go outside now. Why don't we get pizza? They deliver, and I know you love that spicy Italian one."

Cas gave a murmur of pretend disapproval, and ignored Dean's statement about the spicy Italian pizza, because it was true; he did love it. "Hm. That's a bit of a weak argument, Dean." His eyes flickered over to the window, and he was pleased to notice that it wasn't raining, nor was it snowing.

"Really? You think the possibility of me freezing to death is a 'weak argument'?" Dean chuckled under his breath, and shook his head lightly. "I don't see you volunteering to venture out into the cold and get them."

Cas gave Dean a hopeful look, mustering up his very best puppy eyes. "I'll come with you, and I'll even pay. You can get extra bacon on yours and everything."

Cas had learnt a very-much guaranteed way of keeping Dean happy; promise him either bacon, alcohol or pie, and he'd be content for a few hours.

Dean made a mock-annoyed noise and stood up, before he stretched in a rather extravagant way, his shoulders making odd popping noises that Cas didn't think sounded very healthy.

"Okay, fine. Let's go and get you your burgers, but only-" he pointed a finger at Cas, "-only because you had a bit of an emotional moment back there."

Cas smiled at Dean, and was surprised by the sincerity of it. He didn't smile often - though, that didn't surprise him, because Cas didn't consider himself to be a particularly happy person - though, when he did smile, he usually felt false. But Dean- he made Cas break all of his rules.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean flashed him a grin. "It's all right. Now, come on, grab your coat, we don't want it to close before we get there. Otherwise we really will have to get pizza, and I'll be annoyed because we could have had it delivered."

Cas clambered off the sofa, and pulled his trench coat off the coat-stand that stood tall in the corner of the living room, and wrapped it tightly around his body. He watched Dean do the same with his green jacket, and then he smiled again.

This thoughtfulness, this kindness, this unwavering support so early in their budding friendship? This was why he liked Dean.