So I know that I said there would be one more chapter. But when I began to wrap things up, I realized that it wouldn't all fit right in one chapter. So behold, the second to last chapter!
New Years had come and gone by the time the state decided on a court date for Avery. Castiel had gone most of their winter break with the thought in the back of his mind, Dean doing his damndest to keep away anything at all triggering until Castiel reassured him that he was playing mother hen and it was goddamn suffocating.
They spent New Year's Eve making out, half naked, in the backseat of the Impala, Castiel jolting away from their mind numbing kiss when fireworks exploded around them. Dean had merely grinned up at him, his blonde hair sexed-up, lips bruised from kissing, and said, "Happy new year's babe." That had earned him a few harder-to-hide hickies.
School picked back up with a vengeance, Castiel disappearing three nights a week to go kick ass at the dojo, Dean sometimes following to watch. He was seeing Gemma once a week, instead of twice and had been prescribed an anxiety medication that turned him into an irritable, hateful, wilted flower of a person. It made him snappy and sleepless, turning his head away from kisses, squirming from hugs. Dean was lost for a few short weeks.
February brought the disposal of those meds, a new prescription and a weird hope. They'd worked their way through another workbook and Castiel's libido came roaring back after he'd been off the Lexapro for five days, tackling Dean into his bed, midnight bringing muffled moans and whispers, explorational touches and begging. Dean had rolled away from Castiel, eyes wide, reeling, trying to figure out if it was psychologically okay for a person to swing so wildly between medications.
He'd called Gemma the next day, his question answered with a reassuring laugh.
Of course, all things that go up, must come down.
February thirteenth, Dean spent the entire time in class texting with Jo, clarifying that his plans for the next day weren't too cheesy, but were enough to show just how much he lo-ahem-cared for Castiel. Jo had caught his stutter and teased him endlessly for it, and so he resorted to only speaking to her via text message.
He burst into the dorm to find Castiel hunched over the table, crying into his arms, sobbing, his shoulders heaving, odd wheezy sounds and whimpers escaping him, as though he wanted to scream but his lungs wouldn't allow it.
For a split second, he froze. Really, it was a mere millisecond of complete, utter panic flooding him. It'd been so long since Castiel had truly not been even okay. He'd been talking to Dean about fighting triggers, meditation and how free he was beginning to feel and Dean thought his heart would explode with sheer gratitude of even having Castiel in his life.
He rushed forward, dropping his books and jacket on the floor, coming around so that Castiel could at least see him before he dared pull him into his arms. Castiel came willingly, turning so that he could sob into Dean's neck. They sat that way for countless moments, Dean slowly rubbing between his shoulders, humming a Metallica song under his breath until Castiel finally shifted, let out a stuttering breath, and handed Dean a piece of paper.
The court date. They had finally decided on a date.
Castiel's eyes were red and puffy when he met Dean's. "What if they rule him not-guilty?" His voice was broken and wobbly. "What if-?"
Not even hesitating, Dean scooped him up, carrying him to the room, pausing for a moment before choosing his own bed to deposit Castiel and himself into. He wrapped Castiel up in blankets, tucking the pillows around his head before laying down next to him, face-to-face.
"I can't answer that, Cas," he said honestly. "But for what's it worth, whatever happens, I'm here. All the way."
"Till I fly?" he asked, his eyes darting away nervously.
Dean reached out and stroked a gentle finger over his cheek, smiling slightly. "Till you fly."
Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't scared shitless. The night before, after Castiel finally roused himself from his bed, they drove to the dojo and Dean watched him send his sparring partner to the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of the guy. His classmates were surprised and Dean was the only one who knew where the sudden burst of energy had come from, smiling proudly when Castiel reached a hand out to pull the other person up.
They'd broken their unspoken agreement, sharing a bed that night, dozing off amidst soft words and a slide of lips.
And now, Friday-Valentine's Day- Dean sat perched on the edge of his bed, fretting. Had he gone overboard? They had never exactly spoken about making plans. He had no idea what Castiel was expecting, if he was expecting anything at all.
Castiel, on the other hand, was confused as all hell.
"They canceled my shift at the library today, I don't get it! I need those hours," he whined.
Balthazar looked at him from the corner of his eye. "They probably think all the kiddies will be too busy fucking to make a trip to the library today," he let out a bark of laughter when Castiel immediately turned bright red.
He sighed, trying to scowl. "Do you think we ought to get started on that paper today?"
"It's due at the end of the semester, Cassy! Keep your pants on."
This time, he truly did scowl. "You know, grad school is important to some of us," he grumbled.
Balthazar laughed again. "Well then go let grad school be important somewhere else."
Castiel frowned. They were outside Balthazar's dorm, and he had made no move to open the door. "Are you...are you trying to get rid of me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Yes. Yes I am. Now shoo. I don't want to hear from you until tomorrow."
He left Castiel standing in the hallway, limply holding onto his backpack, confusion etched over all of his features.
When he opened the door to his own dorm, he was only confused even further. All of the lights were off, which couldn't have been Dean, considering he was notorious for leaving them on all of the time. The whole apartment smelled...clean. Rather than the musk of two men living in one place, it smelled like too much Febreeze and Windex. And if he strained his ears just right, he could hear a song playing.
He walked towards their room, the words becoming clearer and a smile growing on his face. Thank You, by Led Zeppelin, the song that Dean had made Castiel listen to over and over again until he could sing along to it. He gently nudged the door open to find Dean sitting on his (freshly made) bed, a huge box of chocolate resting in his lap.
Castiel froze. He and Dean had never discussed doing anything for Valentine's Day together. He hadn't outright thought of doing anything for Dean, just figured they might be able to do a little bit extra that night. Apparently, Dean had other plans. "I...uh, oh God I didn't…" he stammered, setting his bag on his desk.
Dean only smiled at him, shushing him gently. "I didn't want to do anything huge, but I wanted to do something so you know I do appreciate you and...and I'm glad I have you." The words felt awkward on his tongue; too emotional for how he normally was. It was new and exciting. He stood up, holding out the box of chocolate. "I thought we could just have a quiet night in, you know? Order shitty food, watch shitty movies...have some awesome make out sessions?"
Castiel huffed out a laugh, toeing his shoes off. "Is this your way of telling me that you're too broke to do anything extraneous?"
Dean only replied a grin that went ear to ear and a, "Yup. Does it work?"
Castiel very gently set the box of chocolates aside, scooting himself into Dean's arms, pulling him closer, as though he wanted them to be one physical entity. He laid his head over Dean's chest, feeling the heartbeat thudding steadily below his ear. "Yeah," he breathed. "It works."
They spent the evening watching movies on the sci-fi channel and feeding each other pieces of chocolate, until both of them eased to sleep, residual chocolate staining their mouths and fingertips.
The rest of February trickled through their fingertips, lazily and then all at once. Castiel's flashbacks were few and far between and he spent too much time agonizing over whether or not the medication had caused it or if he was truly getting better. Unsure of what to do, Dean just kissed him silly until he was grappling at his shoulders, tearing his shirt off, shoving him to the bed.
March brought warmer days and anxiety attacks as Castiel's court date grew closer. Dean did what he knew how to do, giving Castiel his space, tucking him in if he ended up asleep over his desk, writing yet another email to his lawyer. It was draining, seeing Castiel wound so tightly and being unable to do a damn thing about it. Old habits die hard, he knew that all too well. That, of course, was how he found himself at a party down the block from campus, his first in a few months.
The music was too loud, making his ears ache. Someone had set up an overworking fog machine, making the house seem dim and and the lights far too uncomfortable to look at for too long. Dean found himself nursing a beer, leaning lazily against the wall, closing his eyes, relishing in the feeling of being lost in a crowd, a feeling he hadn't experienced since that first night with Castiel.
It was only when he felt a loose arm slide around his waist that he jolted out of his reverie. His eyes opened to see Michael, party-hopper extraordinaire, smiling lustily at him. "Where've you been, party boy?" he leered, his voice pitched low enough that only Dean could hear.
Dean can practically hear the blood rushing to his head, a loud whoosh of sound behind his ears, momentarily drowning out the music, his eyes meeting Michael's dark ones. He froze, unsure of which direction he should go. Freaking out and punching the guy was a brilliant option, if he wanted to spend the night at the county jail.
"I'm uh," he cleared his throat. "I've been busy." I didn't come here to see you, dammit!
Michael merely raised a cocky eyebrow, crowding ever closer to Dean. "Doing…?" the word rolled dangerously off of his tongue, taunting, a tease.
"I have a boyfriend," he blurted.
The cocky eyebrow rose even further, and he pulled away only slightly, his fingertips trailing the small of Dean's back. "Oh?"
"Yeah. So um. No more of...this." Whatever the fuck this was.
Michael only smirked. "Never been the homewrecker type, m'self," he shrugged. "So you got one good taste of cock and decided you wanted to keep it, huh?"
Dean choked on his sip of beer. "What the fuck, man?" he gasped out, punching himself in the chest.
The smirk grew more pronounced. "Oh don't even lie, party-boy. I know I wasn't your first taste of it, but I was certainly the one who sealed the deal."
Anger rose up in Dean, the urge to punch the guy in the face rearing up. He leaned in close, his face nearly touching Michael's. "He fucks better than you ever could," he hissed, before dropped what was left of his beer down his shirt and turning to walk away.
As he left the party, the lie burned on his tongue. He stalked back to his dorm, fumbling with his keys, muttering empty threats and angry words under his breath. As he opened the door, he wished he'd never said those words, wished he'd never risen to Michael's bait and just ignored him.
He was even more upset when he walked into the room and Castiel blatantly ignored him. He remained hunched over his desk, angrily punching the keys on his laptop, another email on its way out.
Dean wanted to scream. The last two weeks had been hellacious, and it apparently wasn't going to get any better. "Cas?" he tentatively asked. "What's going on?"
Castiel finally whirled, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "How much do you fucking hate me?" he asked, his voice pained.
Dean back pedaled. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You couldn't deal with me so you went off to another party so you could fuck that guy, didn't you?" The words were hysterical, he couldn't believe he was saying them.
Dean froze. How the hell was this is his life? "Cas, I went to a party because these last couple weeks have been stressful as fuck. I wanted to get out of the dorm for a night. You didn't do anything!"
Castiel stood unmoving, glaring at Dean, his fists clenching at his sides. "How do I know?" he finally whispered.
That was it for Dean. "Are you fucking kidding me? What have I done to you to make you think that? What the fuck have I done?" With every word, his voice grew louder. "I care about you Cas and you fucking know that and I know you're under a lot of pressure but don't take it out on me!" With that, he stalked into the living room, dropping heavily onto the couch.
Castiel stood in his room, shaking. He hadn't meant it, he hadn't meant any of it at all. He'd been nervous, and upset and his lawyer was driving him crazy, telling him countless "tips and tricks" to keep up in court and keep his head. It was driving him crazy. He'd had little to no time to spend with Dean, only a brief morning kiss and sometimes, a goodnight kiss.
And then, around nine o'clock, Dean had stood up, dropped a kiss on the top of his head and said, "I'll be back later." It was brief, it was sketchy and it had upset him beyond words. And then he had two and a half hours to sit and stew in the feeling.
Dean sat in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen. He palmed at his eyes, as though he could rub the anger from them, rub away the look of Castiel's hurt when he'd walked back into the room. The night was slowly spiralling down the drain, out of his control. He groaned pathetically, hugging himself, wishing that he hadn't just blown up at Castiel, wishing he had just hugged him, comforted him like he always did when things got miscommunicated. Instead, he was folding in on himself the way that he used to, the only thing he still knew how to do.
Moments later-at least it felt that way- Castiel came and joined him on the couch. His arms wrapped around Dean's waist and he leaned into his chest. A breath passed between the two of them and Dean slowly brought his arms around Castiel, caressing his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Castiel murmured. "That wasn't fair of me to say any of those things to you. I didn't...I didn't mean them."
Dean had to fight not to roll his eyes. "So you just blurted those things out entirely unintentional? Really."
Castiel sighed, closing his eyes. "I apologize for taking out my stress on you Dean. That was unfair of me to do to you. Do you forgive me?"
Dean bit his lip, breathing deeply. "Yeah. 'Course I forgive you, Cas."
"Good." Castiel curled into Dean's side, breathing him in, allowing himself to relax for the most part. "I've missed you." His voice is muffled by Dean's shirt.
Dean could only sigh, his arms tightening around Castiel. "God, I've missed you too."
Castiel leaned up, moving over Dean's body. Wide, trusting eyes met Dean's before soft lips met his and his eyes fell shut. Just like that, the tenseness of the past two weeks faded away with a few well-timed nibbles on his lip and a muffled moan.
In an instant, Dean had Castiel pressed into the couch, a knee between his legs, kissing hungrily and relentlessly. Castiel relaxed beneath him in an instant, meeting his kisses with just as much fervor and enthusiasm. Dean felt as though he was unravelling in the best of ways and he couldn't help but press against Castiel's lean figure just a little bit more.
They ended their evening tangled up in Castiel's sheets, Dean falling asleep while inhaling the light scent of Castiel, their arms loops together.
Two weeks later, Castiel found himself sitting in a courtroom, looking anywhere but at Avery and his lawyer. His voice shook when he spoke to the judge, but he plowed through, recounting the details of that horrifying night to the courtroom. He shakily took his rape kit results from his lawyer and presented them to the judge. When he turned back to go to his table, Dean caught his eye from the back, sending him a reassuring wink.
The verdict was fifteen years in jail for Avery, a bond set so high that no one would bother paying it to let the rapist out. He'd be on parole for another five years after that. Something in Castiel screamed, not enough! Not long enough. He had to be dead, his existence cleaned from the Earth, purged from space and time.
Instead, when the court adjourned, Castiel ran to the back of the room, threw himself into Dean's arms and sobbed. He didn't turn when he heard the click of handcuffs descend on Avery, nor when he felt his mother's hand rest over his shoulder. He pressed himself closer to Dean, trying to breathe in his very essence, allowing it to calm him.
Dean only gathered him closer, stroking his hands through his onyx hair, smoothing the frazzled strands that he'd managed to mess up during court. "It's over Cas," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's over now."
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