Oh my Chuck (yay it's canon now), I am so busy right now with uni stuff so I might be uploading a little slower than usual. Don't worry, this fic is still very much on my mind and I'm still working on it! Oh wow, next time I upload 11x21 will have aired and I have high hopes for muchos gay to occur in this ep.
This chapter explores the idea of jealous!Cas which tbh I don't think he'd actually be very possessive or anything because I see his love for Dean as very selfless, but I figured that as a human he might succumb to baser and more selfish feelings. In canon I firmly believe that Cas would quite happily stand by and watch Dean settle down with someone else if he believed that it was best for Dean.
I did a little shout-out to a certain campaign which I'm sure you'll spot ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I end up spending the majority of my day with Sam and Kevin in the library, researching angels who have become human and discussing possible scenarios involving my fallen brethren which could prove problematic. Sam calls the Winchesters' friend Charlie and I listen confusedly to his half of a conversation which seems to revolve around computer technology and how it could be applied to detecting algorithms and patterns of events, which in turn could be related to locating rogue fallen angels. I find a book of poetry and peruse it whilst he babbles into the phone, wondering vaguely whether Charlie knows much about me. Dean and Sam have both mentioned her more than once.

My mind drifts and I realise that I've read the same line of prose over and over as I ponder what Charlie looks like. I'm not sure why I'm so curious, except that the more I think about it the more I can recall Dean in particular, speaking of the young woman with rare fondness. An odd discomfort, almost a fear, jolts in my gut and I listen hard to the faint sound of her voice coming from Sam's phone. She sounds cheerful and intelligent. I'm not sure why that makes me frown, but it does.

Snapping the book shut, I mutter to Sam and Kevin that I'm going for a coffee. I make myself the drink listlessly, wondering for the tenth time what Dean might be up to. I have no idea what he's been occupied with all day. I add three sugars before remembering that sugar is bad for teeth and my odd, upset mood increases as I think about reducing the amount I put in my coffee if I want to maintain good dental health. Being human is so irritating in these small ways. Leaning against the counter, I sip the hot, sweet liquid and recall the sting as it splashed onto my chest earlier. Pain is different now that I'm mortal. It's less nuanced but far fiercer and seems to take up my whole attention, where as an angel I was able to compartmentalise, use the pain as the monitoring system it was designed for rather than just breaking down under the weight of it. Pleasure seems to be similar. I never brought myself to completion as an angel but the brief moments of sexuality I did experience were far less all-consuming and far more distanced from me than what I did this morning in my bed.

Thinking of Dean.

I tip my head back and sigh loudly, feeling disgruntled and distracted. I want to know where he is, not because I have a particular interest in his daily activities or because I'm worried about him. I just want to be around him. I felt this pull as an angel but it was so easy to ignore then, easy to only give in to it when I had a practical reason to station myself near Dean. Now I feel needy and deprived after just a few hours of not seeing him and it makes me clench my teeth in anger. Is this part of humanity too? This pathetic craving for the company of a person, even when said person wouldn't welcome my presence? It's idiotic and infuriating.

Swallowing down the last of my coffee, I slam the mug down on the draining board so hard that I'm instantly worried that I've damaged it. Examining it, I see that it's unharmed and this only annoys me further. I'm so weak as a human. That same movement made in unchecked anger before the fall would have obliterated the mug into tiny shards and probably dented the metal of the draining board too. Shoving the offending object away, I turn back around with a huff and cross my arms, digging my fingers painfully into my ribs. I think back to Charlie, suspicion prickling across my skin.

Is there some sort of romantic connection between Dean and the mysterious girl he so often mentions with warmth in his eyes? I may have decided this morning that Dean might not necessarily be exclusively attracted to women, but even my twisted human logic can't convince me that females aren't his preference. I think about what I know of Charlie. She's young but definitely an adult, she's very smart, she makes Dean laugh. She's tough and resourceful and she impresses him; that much is clear from the snatches of stories I've been told about Charlie's adventures with the Winchesters. I've never heard Sam or Dean mention any kind of romantic interest in her life, so she could well be unattached. As is Dean, much as my entire being yearns to make it otherwise.

I feel a furious despair settle upon me as I think about how very easy and unsurprising it would be for Dean and Charlie to begin some sort of romantic or sexual relationship. Maybe they're already having one, secretly. Maybe Dean has fallen for her the way he fell for Lisa, the way I fell for him...

"Cas?"

I look up, startled. Dean is standing in the kitchen doorway, peering at me in obvious concern. I realise that I was probably glaring at the floor as though I wanted to attack it with a power tool and I force my features into a faint smile, dropping my tense arms to my sides.

"Hello, Dean. Sorry, I was thinking."

"Yeah, I hope it wasn't about me. You looked pretty murderous there."

I snort under my breath. Of course I was thinking about Dean. I'm a one-track horse, or whatever the strange human expression is.

"No, not about you." At least I can still lie as a human, when the need arises. "I was thinking about... about Metatron."

My frown reappears as the lie becomes reality and I ponder the impossibly smug little bastard who stole my grace and screwed up Heaven. Not that I can really cast that particular stone, but still. Dean's expression reflects my loathing and he nods, crossing to the fridge.

"Yeah, that'd do it. What a fucking dick."

I smile at him, slipping my hands into my pockets as I relax against the counter. "Even more of a dick than Dick, huh?"

Dean glances up as he grabs a beer, eyes twinkling and grin approving. "Maybe. I'll have to think on that one. Let you know."

I nod, happiness bubbling inside me despite the irritating subject matter of our conversation. This is what I've been missing all day, the feeling of mingled safety and excitement that I only ever get around Dean. It's like the afterglow of rebelling for him never faded and every time I look at him I'm struck anew with the rightness of that decision, how every wrong thing I've ever done shrinks in comparison with knowing that I saved Dean Winchester. I just feel so positive around him, so sure that all will be well as long as he keeps smiling at me.

"Hey, listen, Cas. I should probably tell you that we're going away tomorrow, for a few days, Sam and me."

I blink at him, feeling as though he's spilled coffee all over my giddy joy as well as that damn shirt earlier. "What?"

Dean takes a swig of beer and shuts the fridge, leaning against it and eyeing me uncomfortably. "Just for a few days. Two nights, I reckon. Visiting Charlie."

My stomach drops. Of course. Of fucking course. "Charlie."

Dean nods, oblivious to the flat bitterness in my tone. "Yeah, Charlie Bradbury, you know? I've mentioned her a few times."

"Yes, you have."

"Yeah. Well, Sam just got off the phone with her. Turns out she just got kicked out of her house share. She seems kinda upset, although typical Charlie, she tried not to let on. Anyway, Sam suggested that we ought to go see her. She's in a motel, all alone, you know? Thought we'd be good pals and go eat pizza and stuff, maybe try to help her find a new place."

My churlishness fades somewhat at the image he's building in my head. I know how it feels to be cast out and alone. Suddenly ashamed of my own lack of charity and empathy, I nod and muster up a smile.

"That's a nice idea, Dean. So you and Sam are going for just a short visit?"

Dean nods, glancing at the doorway before replying. "Yep. I mean, I couldn't let Sam go by himself. Not with things the way they are."

I frown confusedly. "You were going to let Sam go alone otherwise?"

Dean stares at me for a moment, grip tight on his beer bottle. "Yeah, well, it means leaving you here, which I obviously don't want to do."

I gaze back at him, feeling a little of that warmth building back up in my chest. Dean glances away, swigging more beer and hastening to qualify his statement. "I mean, 'cause you're still finding your feet. As a human. But hey, Kevin'll be here if you need anything, OK?"

"OK," I agree quietly, my mind fixated on the fact that Dean would rather have stayed with me. Am I being narcissistic to interpret that as the possibility of Dean caring more about me than Charlie? Charlie, who seems so damn perfect when he talks about her? I clear my throat, wondering if it might be stupid of me to prod the issue. I do so anyway, as has become the norm for me since falling.

"Dean, you've never said exactly what your relationship with Charlie is."

He blinks, green eyes blank. "Huh?"

I swallow nervously but plough ahead. "I mean, you do mention her a lot, and she sounds... she sounds really great. I was curious as to whether you admire her in a romantic way."

My voice is quite steady considering how hard my heart is thumping. Dean eyes me suspiciously but when he realises that I'm serious, his expression transforms and he breaks into laughter, leaning one hand on the counter and almost spilling his beer.

"Oh Jesus, Cas," he wheezes, and my brow furrows in annoyance, impatient to know what is so funny. Dean calms down after a few seconds, eyes crinkled in amusement as he chuckles his way to coherence. Eventually, he gets there. "Charlie is awesome, and yeah, kinda cute, although not really my type. But no. Nothing but friendship there. See, Charlie - oh wow, ha - Charlie is a lesbian."

Dean snorts into more laughter, but my irritation has been replaced by chagrin and trickling relief. I smile sheepishly as Dean grins at me from behind his beer, having regained his composure once more.

"I see," I mumble, feeling my cheeks flush slightly. "Well, I didn't know that."

"Obviously," Dean chortles, but my mind is already ticking over with this new information. I know all too well that someone's sexual preference doesn't make them any more or less attractive, so Charlie being a lesbian in itself wouldn't rule out Dean having feelings for her. But his genuine and carefree amusement at the idea seems to do so, which makes me feel much better, if a little ridiculous. However, the fact that Dean is so close and so affectionate towards an openly homosexual person is interesting in other ways.

"That doesn't bother you? Her being gay?"

I ask the question bluntly and wince internally as it visibly makes Dean catch his breath, the laughter dying from his eyes. He stares at me, an odd fear replacing the mirth. He gulps before replying.

"Does it bother you?"

My eyes widen as I realise that he's interpreted my question as disapproval for homosexuality, which is literally the exact opposite of what I want to convey to him on the matter. I rush to correct him, stepping forward, my voice urgent. "No! No, Dean, no, I have no problem with same sex relations. At all. I am indifferent to sexual orientation. I just thought..."

Dean frowns at me, his shoulders relaxing but his mouth twisting a little. "You thought I did have a problem with it."

My mouth works but no sound comes out, because I can't truthfully deny his accusation. Dean nods, his eyes and tone bitter. "You think I'm some kind of redneck who can't grasp the idea of fucking treating people like they're people."

"What? No-"

"You think," Dean says loudly, sounding more upset now. "That I don't believe in that sort of stuff being real, or right or whatever. You, of all people, Cas?"

His eyes bore into mine and I swallow, slightly confused by his emphasis on my own relevance. I shake my head rapidly, shrinking back from him, my eyes large and pleading. "Of course I don't think that of you, Dean. You are kind and open and intelligent. It's the world you move in which tends to be a little narrow, so I wouldn't have blamed you for having views to reflect that. I'm glad you don't. I should have known that you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

Dean looms over me for a moment longer before seeming to deflate all at once, his expression tired and hurt. "It's fine."

"Dean-"

"I said it's fine, Cas. I get it." His tone is gentle and he squeezes my shoulder before stepping back and drinking some more of his beer. Sighing, I watch him regretfully. He's going away, for at least two whole days and nights, and I've managed to leave him with the impression that I think he's an ignorant bigot. Fantastic.

"Anyway," Dean says quietly after the awkward silence has ticked by for several seconds. "What I wanted to tell you was that I don't want you feeling like you're all on your own here, even with Kevin around. If something bothers or confuses you or whatever, you call me or Sam. Got it? That goes for, um, nightmares too. I don't care what time it is. Call me. You are not alone, OK?"

Affection swells within me and I break into a beaming smile, watching Dean blush as I regard him warmly. He is so beautiful.

"OK, Dean."