When Dean woke up, it was to horrible memories and a very terrible hangover.
And Castiel sleeping by his side.
The setting seemed like an ironic case of deja vu.
Strangely, though, Dean didn't feel unsettled by Castiel's presence. He was more worried and embarrassed about the night's previous events (of which the alcohol had done nothing to wash away, much to his distaste).
Castiel was still fully dressed in his day clothes (as was Dean), and he laid on his back, an arm crossed over his torso, palm splayed on his belly while his other arm laid by his side. He looked tired- his eyes were sunken in and he was paler than usual. Dean wondered when that had happened- when Castiel suddenly looked so exhausted.
And he wondered if it had to do with himself.
Dean supposed he didn't look much better. He certainly didn't feel any better.
After carefully covering Castiel with some blankets, he went off to down some pain killers and take a shower, feeling a slight annoyance towards his consistency with drinking away his problems in the past month. He made a silent vow not to do it, again.
The hot water served to ease his headache and embarrassed thoughts, and Dean decided that when he was finished he was composed enough to return back to his room and assess what he must do.
Castiel had done so much for him last night. There was no way Dean would push him away, pride be damned. He owed Cas, now. And, if he was going to be honest, the last thing he felt like doing was ignoring him, again. Especially since he was so inexplicably drawn to him.
He only hoped the other man still felt the same way.
After approaching his bedroom and finding that the librarian was still asleep, Dean headed off to the kitchen, deciding to make coffee for the both of them. It was still fairly early, not even seven, yet, Dean noticed as he prepared two mugs. Today he was going to make things different. He was going to give Castiel what he really deserved.
He'd try his damned hardest not to drive him out.
Dean debated over making some breakfast, as well, but he decided it'd be overkill and instead brought the coffee back to his room, knocking on the door lightly and causing the librarian to stir awake, blue eyes blinking open and shining angelically with the light of the morning.
"Hey," Dean greeted, sitting down on the foot of the mattress, balancing both cups of coffee in his hands. Castiel squinted sleepily, trying to absorb his surroundings, a splash of cerulean color peeking through coal-dark lashes. Once the drowsy haze had cleared, he gave Dean a soft smile.
"Morning," he replied, stretching slightly, his shirt riding up with the action and exposing a sliver of skin that Dean made sure not to look at. "How are you feeling?" he asked suddenly, observing Dean in a concerned way.
Dean gave a sheepish smile. "I'm- uh- I'm fine, I guess," Dean answered, handing Castiel his mug. "Here."
Castiel accepted it gratefully, fingers brushing against Dean's as he held the handle. His touch was like an electric shock, and Dean tried his hardest not to pull back too fast. "Thank you," Castiel murmured.
Dean nodded, settling his mug in his lap and looking down at it, observing his twisted and curled reflection within the dark liquid. Deep breath. Count to ten. He doesn't seem upset. Just apologize so you can move on.
One.
Castiel was looking away from Dean, now.
Two.
His hair was messy.
Three.
Dean felt a strange urge to reach out-
Four.
And flatten the unruly strands of raven locks that stuck in almost humorous directions.
Five.
Dean averted his eyes as Castiel took a sip from his mug.
Six.
His heart seized.
Seven.
What if Castiel didn't accept his apology?
Eight.
What if he was actually mad?
Nine.
Deep breaths.
Ten.
Do it.
"I wanna apologize. About last night," Dean spoke, glancing at Castiel. He wanted to make eye contact when he did this- he had to let Castiel know he was serious, and that he truly appreciated what Castiel did for him. The fortune teller gazed at him attentively, and Dean licked his lips before he continued, his throat suddenly dry. "You- ah, you shouldn't have seen me like that. I didn't want you to see that. It's… it's not appropriate, and it's not something I'm proud of, but-"
"It's how you cope," Castiel interrupted, not taking his eyes off Dean, looking as though he were deeply observing him. He looked, as he almost always did, as if he were trying to put together the puzzle that was Dean's life. It made Dean's heart advance every time, and a shiver ran through his spine under the man's gaze. In a way, though, it was almost comforting. "I understand."
Dean shook his head. He didn't want to leave things at that. Castiel deserved better than that- no more half assed excuses and apologies. "No- it- it's a shitty thing to do, and I really wish you didn't have to deal with me like that," he insisted, " I just…" Dean took a deep breath. Relax. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."
Blue eyes gazed at Dean's own, and the teacher tried to keep up their eye contact. Castiel's gaze was haunting- it was almost as if he were digging straight into Dean's soul. He all but ended up shying away before Castiel spoke.
"It's okay," he finally gave in, giving Dean a smile. "I forgive you."
Dean returned the smile, if not weakly. "Thanks, Cas... For everything."
"There is no need-" Castiel began before catching Dean's look and correcting himself. "You're welcome." He looked at Dean softly, now, a hint of concern in his deep blue eyes. "You can come to me with anything, Dean. You understand that, right?"
Dean squirmed under Castiel's intense gaze, awkwardly. He didn't think he could recall anybody ever telling him that. Dean wasn't used to someone caring so much.
"Yeah, man," he replied lamely, taking a sip from his coffee and effectively burning his tongue. He tried not to flinch as the scorching liquid traveled down his throat and pooled in his stomach, making his still sensitive scar tingle uncomfortably.
"I'm serious," Castiel insisted, ducking his head as he tried to catch Dean's shifting gaze. "Do not be afraid to ask for help, or for someone to listen. I can tell there are plenty of people in your life who would gladly give you the time of day. And you do deserve it."
Dean's mug was paused halfway to his mouth, which hung open slightly as he gazed at Castiel. They looked at one another for a while before Dean was broken from his trance. He cleared his throat, and looked away from Castiel, settling his mug on his lap and nodding as he drew his lips in a line. He didn't reply- didn't murmur a thanks or anything of the sort.
In all honesty, he just didn't know what to say to that without screwing up. But he had a feeling his silence would just make things worse.
Castiel sighed, and Dean caught him looking at the clock. "I'm going to be late," he observed before peeling back Dean's sheets and swinging his legs over the bed.
"I can take you," Dean offered, standing up with Castiel. The librarian looked shocked.
"Are you sure?" he asked, observing Dean carefully.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's no problem," he insisted. "I'm not busy."
Castiel smiled at that. "Alright. I'll go get changed."
So Dean picked up his keys from where they had been dropped in the hallway last night, put them in his pocket, and waited in the living room. As he sat on a couch he took to reading through his phone notifications. He had seven missed calls, a voicemail, and ten text messages all from Sam. Letting out a deep sigh, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose as he braced himself to listen to what Sammy had to say. He decided on the voicemail, gathering it would sum all the messages up.
He didn't expect what he heard, though, when he finally pressed one and put the phone to his ear.
"Dean, if you're not going to answer, then I want you to at least listen to what I have to say. You don't even have to call me back. Just clear your head and listen to this before you do anything stupid.
"Look, man, I'm sorry about Lisa. Fuck, you know I am. I know you were in love for so long, and I'll never understand how much it must've hurt to lose her. But you're not alone in the pain you feel for her. She was my friend, too. We all loved her, and we all lost her. We all grieved. You didn't have to do yours alone. It all fucking sucks, it really does. But you can't go around blaming yourself! She wouldn't have wanted that- you know she wouldn't have. Stop hurting yourself and accusing yourself for things that were not under your control. God, Dean, you can't go around trying to take care of everything and everybody and then break down when something happens that you couldn't stop. It's not your responsibility. Nobody put it upon you to play God.
"What happened to Mom and Dad wasn't your fault, either. It was a fucking terrible, sadistic thing, but you were a kid, Dean. There wasn't anything you could've done, no matter what the hell you might tell yourself. You did what Dad told you to, and you saved us both. That's freaking amazing in itself, and Mom and Dad would've been so proud.
"You're the strongest person I know. Hell, I don't know why it took me so long to say all this to you, but it's true. You're strong and selfless, and you've done so much for so many people. And with Lisa… I know you made her life complete, even if it ended too soon. She was happy, and her life wasn't tragic. You need to understand that. I need you to believe it.
"So many people care about you, Dean. The number of people you've lost are so small compared to the amount of people who love you, and are here for you. Just… just stop living in the past. Fall in love, again. Hang out with Charlie. Hell- come the fuck over to my house more, Jess and I fucking miss you constantly. Call Ellen and Jo- and Bobby, before he kicks your ass. Get in touch with Ash, again. Just, please, stop separating yourself from the world.
"And… well, I guess that's it. You don't have to even respond to all this, just let me know you at least heard me. You know we don't talk about this stuff, so I'd appreciate it if you not delete this message. Or completely ignore it. Just… consider it, alright?
"I'll talk to you later, man."
And then the phone clicked.
To replay this message, press-
Dean flipped his phone shut, letting it fall in his lap as gazed slackjawed ahead of him. He closed his mouth and composed himself, trying to digest everything he had just heard.
Shit.
Heaving a sigh, Dean reclined into the couch, pressing fingers into his closed eyes as he massaged the dryness out of them.
He didn't even hear Castiel step into the room.
"What's wrong?" The concerned voice inquired.
Dean snapped out of his reverie, looking up at the librarian, whose eyes were squinted as he observed the man in front of him.
"Uh, nothin', don't worry about it," Dean replied as he gave a smile, standing up. He pocketed his phone. "You ready to head out?"
Castiel inspected the teacher for a moment before suddenly smiling, looking reassured. "Yes, I am," he replied, slipping on his trench coat.
The drive was silent. Dean's head was a mess with internal conflict, and Castiel was respectfully silent, detecting that Dean had a lot on his mind. They didn't speak until Dean parked by the library. He turned to Castiel as the librarian thanked him, almost forgetting where he was and what he was doing.
Dean offered a weak smile and nod. "I- uh, I'll see you tonight, right?"
Castiel offered a soft smile, his blue eyes gazing at Dean in a way that made his stomach flip. "Yes," he replied. Before Dean could offer to pick him up, Castiel spoke, "I'll be here late- I'm going to take a bus back," he told him, gathering his things, now.
Dean nodded, feeling a tightness in his stomach. He felt like leaning over and kissing Castiel goodbye, but he didn't. They weren't together. He couldn't do that. Castiel wasn't his.
He held on tightly to the steering wheel, forcing himself to sit upright when he felt his body lean anyways, betraying him.
Castiel looked up, gazing into Dean's eyes, his gaze flicking down to his lips before ripping away with what looked like a lot of force. Castiel flushed a lovely shade of pink, detecting the want that Dean was trying to contain. "I'll see you soon," he replied, eyes flicking to Dean's lips once more before he swallowed and looked away, getting out of the car.
He left before Dean could even think to respond, and the blond let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding in, reclining back into his seat and bringing his hands up to cover his face. Sam's words suddenly came back to him.
Fall in love, again.
It seemed, the teacher thought with a jump in his heart, that he had already gotten that part down. Dean was head over heels for Castiel, he realized that now. No amount of denying could make it any less true.
But Dean didn't want to be in love. They weren't meant to be. Love, in Dean's life, was dangerous. He just didn't think he could take another heartbreak. He didn't think he could demolish the walls he had put up.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
And… it wasn't going to. Dean could still stop this, whatever it may be, before it gets out of hand. He could still stop himself- the both of them- from falling deeper. Castiel didn't deserve this- he didn't deserve Dean's shit.
Dean removed his hands from his face, gripping onto the steering wheel once more. He would talk to Castiel, tonight. He'd set the boundaries.
He would try not to let his wall break down.
Dean headed straight to Sam's house after taking Castiel to work- his mind boggling and his thoughts in a chaotic jumble. He didn't even know what he'd say when he got there. How could he ever come up with the words?
But, when faced with the front door to the quiet condo, Dean found that it all didn't matter. Sam would understand. He'd always understand. He was the only one that could see through Dean without picking him apart.
There was no reason to worry.
And Dean reminded himself of that as his finger pressed into the doorbell, then drew back. He sucked in a breath as the door opened, revealing his little brother.
Sam was still in his pajamas, and Dean almost forgot how early it was. He was about to apologize when Sam suddenly realized who was at the door, his eyes widening. He pulled Dean inside, and drew him into a hug. Dean returned it, shocked with the contact.
Sam's embrace was calming, and it chased away Dean's frantic thoughts. "I'm so glad you're okay," Sam spoke, not letting go. Dean felt a stab of guilt, remembering he hadn't talked to Sam in over a week.
He let out a laugh, although it was obviously forced. "Alright, alright, let go of me, y'overgrown moose," Dean teased. Sam let go, giving Dean an instinctive bitch face, although his eyes were still laced with worry. He closed the door behind them, and checked his watch.
"You want coffee?" Sam asked, already making to head over to the kitchen. Although he had already had some, Dean gave a nod that Sam smiled at.
Dean sat at the dining table, watching Sam as he worked about. The younger Winchester was quiet, giving Dean time to think about everything he wanted to say. Sam looked tired- his movements sluggish and his eyes underlined with bruise-like shadows. Dean felt guilty for bothering him so early in the morning, especially when he saw that the dining table was covered in papers and books and files. A laptop sat among the mess, the screen dark.
Averting his eyes, Dean looked down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. The dull ache of a hangover still pulsed in the side of his head, and he took some deep breaths, willing it to go away, along with the nausea that climbed up his throat. He supposed he probably looked just as bad as Sam, at the moment. Maybe he'd go back to his apartment and take a nap, after this….
Sam sat down at the table, offering Dean a mug full of coffee. It was one of the few things Sam could make perfectly- exactly how Dean always liked it. He accepted it, holding the cup in his cold hands and letting the warmth of coffee seep through to his fingers. The teacher hadn't even realized how freezing he was.
"You look like hell," Sam pointed out after a minute of silence. Dean smirked, looking up at his brother.
"So do you," he retaliated. He jerked his head towards the stacks of papers. "Late night?"
Sam screwed his mouth into a frown, nodding. "Yeah, I've got a shit ton to do. Didn't go to bed until four hours ago."
Dean bit his lip, feeling guilty once more. "I can leave if you-"
"No- no, I don't mind," Sammy reassured. "I want you here," he added when he saw that Dean was still unsure.
The blond nodded, looking back down. The two brothers fell silent once more.
"What happened?" Sam asked, seeming hesitant. Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat, quickly stealing a glance at his brother before looking away.
"Well, uh, the usual, I guess," he admitted, feeling his brother's disappointed look without even glancing up to confirm it. "I- well, except that this time I got… interrupted."
Sam was silent, and Dean looked up, now, gauging his reaction. The younger Winchester looked shocked, and he met Dean's eyes. "Cas?" he asked.
Dean nodded, shame coloring his cheeks a red hue as he looked down once more.
Sam sounded worried, now. "What was his reaction?" he asked.
Dean took a deep breath, setting his mug down on the table and running a hand through his mussed up hair. "Ah, well, he was upset. But he… helped me through it, I guess. He got me to stop drinking… dumped out the rest. Basically made sure I didn't poison myself," Dean attempted to joke.
Sam's face was serious, though. He looked concerned for his brother, and he leaned forward in his seat before he spoke. "Is he mad?" he asked.
Dean shook his head. "No- that's the thing. He's not. Like, not at all. He… well, he knows why I did it. I kinda told him everything while I was out of it. He… he just helped me out."
Sam looked relieved, but shocked at the same time. "Wow," he exclaimed.
"Yeah."
It was silent.
"I know you're not gonna like hearing this, Dean," Sam began, making his brother give him a wary gaze, "but I really… I think Cas is really good for you."
Dean ducked his head down. "I'm not letting him in like that, Sam," he protested. He looked up at his brother, who looked sad. "Nobody can fill that spot."
"Then make a new one," Sam retaliated. At Dean's exasperated look, he continued, "There's no such thing as running out of love, Dean," the younger Winchester explained. "There… there are so many opportunities. You've got your whole life ahead of you. And you've already spent most of it shutting people out. I think… I really think it's time you let someone into it. Whether you think you're ready, or not."
Dean had left his brother's house with his words constantly ringing in his ears. He went to his apartment and laid in bed, trying so hard not to roll over to the side Castiel had slept on, and inhale the pillow that emanated his alluring scent.
With all the thoughts rampaging in Dean's mind, it was almost impossible to find sleep. But, somehow, he had managed. He fell into a fitful slumber, having a strange stream of nightmares greet him in unconsciousness.
He had a dream that Sam and Jess didn't want anything to do with him, anymore- that they high tailed it out of Illinois and left him alone. He dreamt that all the people in his life, here and back in Lawrence, had pulled on either side of him, tugging and screaming until Dean was pulled apart, ripped to pieces.
He dreamt that he was in the car with Cas in the passenger seat, smiling at him. His eyes were a bright blue, gazing at Dean in a way… in a way Lisa had, once. He looked back at Cas, then suddenly Lisa had taken his place, smiling at Dean brightly.
"Lisa," he had whispered, in awe.
He reached out to touch her-
Then she was screaming his name, pointing in front of them.
A car crashed head on into theirs, and Dean was harshly flung about. He tried to yell out for Lisa, but he couldn't speak. When the aftermath cleared, Dean looked to the passenger side to see not Lisa, but Castiel sitting there, head bloodied and eyes lifeless, no longer a bright blue, but glazed over in a haunting manner.
When Dean woke up, he was freezing, but still sweating. His heart was racing, threatening to jump out of his mouth and pound out of his chest. He realized he had kicked his sheets off of him, and drew his arms around himself as he looked around his room. Darkness bathed the area, and Dean wondered how long he had slept.
He got up and padded instinctively to his closet, shedding himself of his clothes and slipping on some warmer material. His sweatpants instantly warmed his legs more than his jeans had, and after pulling on a long sleeved top he turned around and switched on his desk lamp. His alarm clock was sitting on the nightstand, and he grabbed it, facing it towards him so he could check the time.
It was eleven fifteen. Dean was shocked- he had slept the entire day away.
Movement and footsteps in the kitchen caught Dean's attention. He inclined his head towards the noise, curious. Could it be Cas? He normally went to sleep quite early, retiring as soon as he got back from the library.
Suddenly, Dean remembered that he had fallen asleep with the door open and the lights on. His door was now closed, and his room had been completely dark. Not to mention, the sheets had been drawn over Dean, when they had been off in a mess at the foot of his bed when he had laid down. Castiel had done that for him….
Sam's words echoed in Dean's head, and the teacher suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and avoid his problems.
But he needed to talk to Castiel. He needed to tell him how he felt, how he wanted to be with him, but-
Images of Dean's nightmare filled his mind. Castiel, bloody and dead in Dean's car.
He couldn't do that to Castiel. He couldn't drag him into the mess that his life was. Everyone Dean loved most suffered. He was poison, he couldn't let his toxicity reach Castiel, too. He needed to keep him safe. Safe from the harm that was sure to come.
So, with a great reluctance, Dean pushed away Sam's words as he left his room, squinting at the brighter light of the hallway. The movement in the kitchen was louder, now. He could hear grocery bags rustling and items being put away. When he walked into the room, Castiel automatically felt his presence.
"Good morning," he teased, turning around to give Dean a sly smile.
"Uh, hi," Dean replied, walking towards the librarian. "You need help?" he asked, gesturing towards the groceries. Castiel gave him a softer smile, now.
"Sure."
They worked in silence for a moment, and Dean took to observing the fortune teller. He was wearing a white dress shirt with a few of the top buttons popped open, and a tie as blue as his eyes hung loosened around his neck. Dean paused in his movements, feeling as though he were caught in a trance. He longed to forget about his nightmare- to ignore the voice in his head warning him of what would happen if he were to act on his wants. All he wanted was a normal life, and this- it felt as though it would be the first step.
But there was a feeling of dread deep in his stomach. It was a dark, encompassing feeling that dragged Dean down into a muck of terrifying thoughts. He felt as though he could feel something bad watching for decision. He felt like this thing was just… waiting for him to make a final choice. To be with Castiel, or to be alone.
Perhaps being alone was safest? Of course it was- when you're alone, you can't possibly lose anyone. All you could lose is yourself. It was reassuring, not having to worry about someone. But… would that really be living? What was the point of living if Dean didn't experience the bad, and the good? Would that truly be a life he'd want to go through?
Being with Castiel would be like a dream. It was all Dean wanted. But he was afraid. He didn't know what giving himself to Castiel would bring- whether he'd be in store for more bad than good, or not. What they had with each other was platonic, if nothing else. He felt as though he could connect to Castiel so easily- almost as easily as he could connect to Sammy.
And that terrified him.
Dean knew what he had to do.
Right when he was about to speak, Castiel turned around, catching Dean gazing at him. His eyebrows knitted themselves together, and he gave Dean his full attention.
"What's the matter?" he asked, voice piquing in a way Dean had not heard it go, before. He seemed worried, curious, anxious.
"I… wanted to talk to you," Dean forced himself to say, swallowing back the lump in his throat as he averted his eyes.
He could still feel Castiel's gaze on him.
"What about?" the librarian asked.
"It's, well, about us. About, you know, what we have," Dean rambled, refusing to meet Castiel's eyes as he put some more things away. He knew that whether or not he looked at Cas wouldn't matter, the fortune teller would still always be able to tell what Dean's thinking. He'd always have the upper hand.
"Dean," Castiel breathed out, sounding weary.
Dean looked up, then, meeting blue eyes that seemed even brighter under the lights of the kitchen. He kept up the eye contact, knowing that it would be too late to look away, now.
"It's just that things are complicated," Dean spoke, wondering why it was so hard for him to say the freaking words. "And I- well, I don't wanna put you through that. It's… not fair," Dean went on, his confidence withering away as he struggled not to break eye contact- struggled to find the right words. "I just… I was wondering if everything- if we could just remain… I don't know- basic," Dean bit out, feeling wrong for saying the words.
Castiel looked down, seeming to digest the information, and Dean felt a kick in his gut, his first thought being that he hoped he hadn't hurt the librarian. Instead, Dean thought he caught the smallest trace of a smile, but decided it was a trick of the lighting, because it was gone within a moment.
"So things will just be normal," Castiel replied in a drawl, eyes lifting to meet Dean's.
The teacher held his breath, giving a stiff nod. "Yeah."
"Just friends," the fortune teller clarified, raising innocent eyebrows.
Dean sighed in relief. "Yes- yeah, exactly- just friends."
Hands behind his back, Castiel shrugged indifferently. "Okay."
Dean eyed him suspiciously. "Okay?"
Castiel smiled now, returning to the task of putting away groceries. "Yes."
"You're… you're fine with that?" Dean asked, just to make sure.
Castiel tilted his head, endearing blue eyes gazing at Dean in that terrible curious puppy sort of way. "Of course," he replied. "Anything you wish."
Dean gave an unsure smile. "Thanks, man."
Castiel gave a nod, smile widening before he continued unpacking groceries, moving to Dean's side to organize the cupboard above him. They were both silent.
Dean sighed.
"Fuck it," he exclaimed, putting down the groceries he held in his hand.
He pulled Castiel in by the lapels of his fucking dress shirt and kissed him.
Months later…
Okay, so I'm super sorry about not updating this! I've got a lot going on and i'm working on finishing my main fic and it's just been chaotic. But just know that this story is only beginning, since I had a lot of questions from people wondering if it was over.
IT'S NOT OVER, DONT WORRY. I'll make it quite clear when it's actually finished. I like being dramatic and putting a The End or a cheesy line or something.
Thanks to everyone for giving this story a chance! It means to much, and I really really enjoy writing it, although it may seem that that's not the case, counting on the fact that it is now November and this story hasn't been updated since May…
Anyways, next chapter soon! Already started it!
Goodbye, lovelies!~
