Author's Note: Hi, guys! (: Friday, whoo! I love the weekend so much, even if I will spend all of it doing boring schoolwork instead of writing the finishing few chapters of this fic! Anyways, I hope you guys are all okay and happy and stuff.
So. Many. Reviews. Wow. Okay, so all my love to the beautiful people on today's WALL OF FAME: CanadaLover008764 (for both of your reviews!), more-profound-bond, DTaddict, BekaForEver, becca65d, jmcswim97, jfkgotblownaway, Casismyfavorite, tii-chan17, JamOnToasttt, Gustin azza (again, for both of your reviews!), Liza Brewtophen, black heide, OwlDuchess, Cheese lover1234 (haha, freaky coincidence!), and, finally, dest-my-iel! Ah! Lovely lovely reviews from lovely lovely people. (:
Thanks so much guys, and I'll see you all on Tuesday!
~Rainbow Fruit Loop xx
~Praying for Redemption~
Chapter Fourteen.
After spending what seemed like the entire night tossing and turning uncomfortably in his too-hot bed, Cas had decided to simply ignore the strange flash of red-hot desire that he'd experienced the day before.
It obviously meant absolutely nothing - really, how could it possibly be a sign? Though it seemed like forever, he'd only known Dean for two months, and despite the fact that he knew he and Dean shared a surprisingly profound bond, how could Cas ever even fathom the idea of such intimacy with his roommate?
Cas didn't even understand the idea of such closeness; why would you ever willingly let yourself get that close to a person? Surely, it would only end in sadness and regret? Cas had been close to people before, and he had lost them, so why would you voluntarily choose the pain all over again?
But Dean… he liked Dean, he truly did. Dean was eternally happy; optimistic and gentle, thoughtful and funny. Perhaps there were those who thought that Dean's flawless features and amazing personality fit the prerequisites of a sensual, kind lover, but Cas? Surely not.
Cas sighed wearily to himself, and pushed himself into an upright position in his bed. He could hear Dean pottering around the living room, humming under his breath as he got ready for work, and Cas knew that he should go and join him, the way he'd been doing since the very beginning.
But- well, Cas was nervous. Would simply seeing Dean and his unwavering smile set off one of those strange, unwanted desires? Cas was lucky the previous day's sensation had faded away quickly - what would he have done if it hadn't? Was it possible that he could he have acted on impulse and ruined everything?
Because Cas didn't want that. He didn't want anything to change, nothing at all. He was happy just the way things were.
Though, of course, that happiness wouldn't last very long at all.
"Hiya, Cas." Dean said through a mouth of half-chewed cereal. "Sleep well?"
In spite of himself, Cas winced in response to Dean's question, and wandered over to the kitchen; a cup of hot coffee was what he needed to get his brain functioning normally again.
"Good morning, Dean. No, I didn't sleep particularly well, but these things happen." Cas responded, lifting a clean mug from the pretty cool mug tree that Dean had found at a market a few weeks back. "You?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders lightly, and shovelled another huge spoonful of cereal into his wide-open mouth. After half chewing it, he said, "I suppose. I woke up early, and then I couldn't get back to sleep. But these things happen." He grinned up at Cas, and Cas couldn't help himself from returning the smile.
As he made his coffee, Cas noticed - out of the corner of his eye - that Dean was absentmindedly stroking the fingers of his left hand against the fraying material of his pyjama pants. Cas stiffened instinctively; bracing himself for the explosion of sudden passion - it was, after all, Dean's pianist's fingers that had encouraged the previous day's confusion - but it never came.
Cas visibly relaxed - his shoulders losing their taut posture, his fingers uncurling from where they had fisted tightly. The chilling desire to have Dean's fingers stroking down his body had been a one-off - that was all it had been, and all it would ever be. Nothing more, nothing less, not something that Cas would worry about any longer.
Cas smiled.
"Woah there, Mr. Happy." Dean commented sardonically, his eyebrows raised as he took in Cas's relieved state. "What's got you in such a good mood, huh? It's Monday morning, no one should be happy."
Cas shook his head dismissively, and moved to sit at his side of the sofa.
"Nothing. I was just thinking about my book." Cas lied smoothly, cradling the hot mug in his hands to keep his frosty fingers warm. "I'm enjoying writing it."
"Is it going well, then?" Dean asked, putting his now-empty bowl down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "When will I get to read it?"
Cas smirked slightly, amused by Dean's eagerness. "You will get to read it if it is ever published. You can buy a copy from the book store."
Dean frowned, pretending to be upset. "Wait, are you trying to tell me that I don't get any benefits for being such an amazing friend? Nothing at all?"
"Maybe you can read it when I've finished the first draft." Cas mused, more to himself than Dean, really. "And, if you want, I can dedicate it to you."
Dean's eyes lit up, and, in that particular light, Cas noticed that they were a stunning olive green. It was strange how they changed colour so frequently; appearing almost emerald in some lights, and a golden-hazel in others.
"Really? You mean it?"
Cas nodded. "Yes."
"That's so cool; I've never had a book dedicated to me before!" Dean chuckled to himself, and flashed Cas a great smile. "Thanks, Cas. You're awesome."
It was quarter to one in the morning when the phone rang.
Because it was only one room away, and the walls of the apartment were surprisingly thin, the noise disturbed Cas from his very shallow slumber. He and Dean had gone to bed early because they had both been tired, and Cas had only been asleep for an hour or so.
Faintly, Cas could hear Dean turning over in bed in the next room. He wondered whether Dean was going to get up and answer it; whoever was calling must be pretty desperate to get in touch, seeing as though it was past midnight.
Finally, though, it rang off, and Cas relaxed back into his painfully-soft pillow, his eyes flickering closed.
There was only silence for a few more seconds before the phone rang again, and it almost seemed louder this time - one hundred times more insistent, and one hundred times more annoying.
"Oh, God." Dean groaned from his bedroom, and Cas heard the bedsprings creaking as he shifted into an upright position. "Whoever it is, they better have a freaking good reason for calling at this time of night!"
With an inward sigh, Cas got out of his refreshingly warm bed, and slunk into the living room after Dean, half of him curious to see who could be ringing at such a ridiculous time.
"It's Sam." Dean murmured, peering at the caller ID. "Why's he calling? We only spoke last night."
Cas shrugged his shoulders, and stifled a yawn. Both men looked at the ringing phone for another few seconds, before Dean - with a rather melodramatic sigh - picked it up, and regarded Cas with baffled eyes.
"Hi, Sammy. What's up?"
And then, suddenly, his expression changed dramatically; shifting to one of panic and confusion.
"Sam, Sam, slow down, I don't- I can't- Sam. Slow down. Tell me what's happened."
At Dean's alarmed reaction, Cas felt an icy chill make its way up his spine. It wrapped its frosty fingers around his heart, clenching and tightening until he was left with an uncomfortable sensation in his chest.
"Oh, God, Sam, I'm so sorry." Dean suddenly murmured, his face crumpling in distress.
Something in Cas's chest shattered - not as a result of the icy fingers caressing his heart, but because Dean looked so broken; so tired. Like he'd had enough of it all, but the world just kept trying to wear him down.
And Cas didn't like it one bit.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy. God. Okay, look, I'll be with you as soon as I can, all right? Just- hold on, I'm coming."
And with that, he hung up the phone.
"Sam… He's here." Dean murmured, his movements becoming increasingly frantic as he searched the apartment for his car keys. "He's here, in Kansas. In Lawrence. I've got to go and get him from the train station, Cas. He's in a terrible state."
Cas didn't understand. They had both been so happy on the phone the previous day, if Dean's laughter was anything to go by. What could possibly have changed in twenty four hours?
Dean glanced up at Cas's confused face, and his movements slowed as he explained.
"Sam's girlfriend is dead."