TRIGGER WARNING: non-con
Chapter 50
Cas hadn't thought much about it at the time, but as he sat in class he couldn't shake the feeling something was off about Dean that morning. He kept trying to brush it off and tell himself he was probably embarrassed, or felt guilty about getting caught, but something was telling him it was more than that. The clock seemed to tick even slower as the day wore on. He found himself wishing he'd brought more coke with him to sneak off into the bathroom with, but he was kind of glad he didn't. He was well aware that he was getting out of control.
Finally his last class was over and he began trudging home. When he opened the front door, Cujo was already at the door, which was unusual. Cas stepped back from the doorway to let him out to potty in the front yard. He peed quickly and then rushed back to Cas, looking up at him and whining.
"What's wrong?" Cas asked him as they went inside, closing the front door behind him. He dropped his keys on the counter and went into the bedroom, figuring Dean was sleeping, but the bed was empty. Cujo rushed past him and jumped onto the bed, turning to stand and stare at Cas.
Cas tilted his head. "Where's Dean?"
Cujo matched his head tilt, but his ears were pinned back. Then Cas noticed the fox mount on the wall. That's weird, he thought to himself. I haven't asked him about that in days.
He figured Dean went to Brit's, but he was confused as to why he hadn't taken the Impala. He plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote, clicking on the television. Cujo was immediately on his lap, still whining softly.
"What has gotten into you?" Cas asked, looking at the dog intently. Cujo just stared back. Cas pulled his phone out of his trench coat pocket and texted Dean.
'Hey, I just got home. Where are you?'
He set his phone down on the coffee table and tried to watch TV, but he was developing quite the headache. He pulled his tin out of one of his other pockets and opened it up to reveal a pre-rolled joint. Clicking the tin closed again with one hand, he lit the joint with the other and took a long, slow pull.
He smoked about half of it before passing out on the couch.
Cas awoke at nearly midnight, surprised at how long he'd slept. He fed Cujo, apologizing for the late dinner, and rummaged around in the fridge for something for himself. He was just sitting down to eat when he realized Dean still wasn't home- or, at least, he didn't think so. He checked the bedroom again and it was empty. Disappointed and starting to worry, he sat down to eat his food and texted Dean again.
'You okay?'
He tried to tell himself Dean had been pulling this shit for the last two months, so he shouldn't be surprised, but he felt like tonight was different. Dean usually at least texted him back within a few hours, and literally every bone in his body was telling him he should be worrying. He finished his food and took Cujo out back. When they came back inside, he smoked the last half of the joint and absentmindedly watched Robot Chicken, even though he wasn't a huge fan of the show. By one he found he was tired again, so he crawled into bed, alone. The sheets were cold and although he had the bed to himself, he found himself sticking to his side.
He texted Dean one more time, now that it was past midnight. 'Happy birthday!'
He heard Cujo whining from his kennel for the first few minutes, which wasn't like him, but he quickly settled down. Cas tried to fall asleep, but he was cold and kind of lonely. He got up and padded out into the living room, unlatching Cujo's kennel. As if he knew why he'd been let out, he hurried past Cas and into the bedroom, jumping up on the bed. Cas had to stifle a laugh when he actually started shoving his nose beneath the covers and lifting his head, trying to fling the blanket over himself.
Cas climbed back into bed and lifted the blanket so Cujo could climb underneath. Cas settled on his side with his legs slightly bent, and Cujo curled himself up into a ball right behind Cas' knees. Cas felt much better with a warm body up against him, and they both fell asleep quickly.
"Hey."
Dean turned to see where the impatient voice was coming from. He'd thought he'd heard someone trying to get his attention for the last minute or so, but these days he wasn't sure what was a hallucination and what wasn't, so he'd been ignoring it.
A hazy giggle floated to his ears. "Wow, you're pretty out of it."
On the stool next to him sat a woman in her late twenties. She had long brown hair with choppy bangs and was wearing a simple black tee shirt and blue jeans. "Umm... yeah," he said slowly.
"This place is about to close... Why are you here so late all alone?"
He shrugged, looking down at his drink. "Nowhere else to be."
She looked him up and down. "I'm just wondering why you'd be here drinking alone, overpaying for booze, when you could be home drinking alone."
He scoffed lightly, looking away. "I'm not here lookin' for a lay... if that's what you're askin'."
She smirked and sipped her own drink. "I know. You haven't talked to anyone but the bartender since you got here." When Dean didn't respond, she continued. "So, what, you homeless or somethin', then?"
He turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How the hell did you know that?"
She smiled. "Who brings a duffel bag into a bar?"
His face relaxed and he gave a small nod. "Touché."
She studied him for a moment, swirling her drink in her glass. "You can crash at my place, if you want," she offered, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally.
He gave her a quizzical look. "Why? You don't even know me." He paused. "What if I was some kinda psycho?"
She shrugged, offering him a sweet smile. "If you were, I don't think you'd say that."
He studied her now, before deciding she seemed harmless enough. He really had nowhere else to go anyway. It was either sleep on the streets in January (at least is was California), or blow money on a motel, and he'd already spent enough on bar booze. "Okay. Sure."
He squared up with the bartender and followed her outside, where they smoked a cigarette on the sidewalk as they waited for her cab.
"So, what's your name?"
"Dean."
"I'm Katie."
Silence settled between them until they arrived at her apartment building. They rode the elevator up, Dean swaying slightly in an attempt to keep his balance. The doors opened on the third floor and he followed her down a narrow, poorly-lit hallway. The floor was lined with dingy blue and white checkerboard linoleum tiles, and he tried to land his steps on alternate colors to keep himself walking a straight line.
They came to a brown door with golden letters on it, and she jammed the key in the handle and swung the door open to reveal a small, dark studio apartment. She flicked the light on and the room was mostly empty except for an old tattered couch, a bed in the corner, a desk with a few papers scattered atop it, and a TV on a small table.
"It's not much," she shrugged. "But it's warm."
"Thanks... Uh, can I use your bathroom?"
"Yeah, that door right there," she said, pointing to Dean's left. She walked off into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge.
He hit the light switch and the bulb slowly blinked to life. Closing and locking the door behind him, he closed the lid to the toilet and dropped his bag onto it, rummaging through it for his gear.
When he emerged from the bathroom, the light was off again and the living room was basked in the dull blue-gray glow of the television. She was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer, so he sat down on the opposite end of the couch, dropping his bag at his feet and sinking back into the cushion.
Almost immediately he felt a hand on his thigh. He slowly brought his gaze down to see her sliding her hand over to his crotch. "Whoa... what're you-"
"Shh shh shh." She moved so she was on her knees and climbed over to his side of the couch, bringing her lips to his ear. "Just relax."
He tried to shrink away, but she gently took his chin between her thumb and index finger and turned his head to face her, planting a kiss on his lips.
He mustered up as much strength as he could to pull his head away. "I..."
She seemed to be on his lap in a second, taking his face in her hands and grazing her thumbs along his stubble. He tilted his head back as a small sigh escaped his lips. As much as he wasn't interested, her touch did feel good, especially while he was so high. He couldn't stop himself from reacting.
She quickly shoved off his jacket and yanked his shirt off over his head, kissing along his neck. Then she was unbuckling his belt and shimmying his pants down. This was all happening so fast. He was confused and barely conscious, too fucked up to push her off. He honestly wasn't even sure how the hell he could have an erection, but he could feel his dick twitching to life.
He wanted to protest, but he was beginning to nod out. Shooting up after drinking half a bottle of whiskey probably wasn't a great idea. She stood up and pushed him back so that he was lying horizontally on the couch. She finished pulling his pants off, and he blearily looked down and was surprised and ashamed to find he was actually fully erect.
She undid her own pants, dropping them to the floor, and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She placed her hands on his chest as she lowered herself onto him with a sigh. "Do you know what I love about you junkies?" she murmured, beginning to move her hips.
He bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan.
"You guys stay hard forever."
A/N: okay, wow, that was kind of hard to write, but i want to explain my reasoning for including this scene. dean is obviously going to quickly realize he wants to go home to cas, but he is going to feel guilt about what happened, feeling like it was his fault because he was hard. although it is obvious to us that while he didn't actually say no or put up much resistance (because he couldn't), he also definitely didn't consent (and was in no state to consent anyway). this is a real thing that happens that i dont think gets enough acknowledgement. so anyway, he is going to feel guilty and like he cheated, and this is going to fuel him to continue on instead of returning home. :(
and by the way, fuck katie because she totally knew exactly what the fuck she was doing.
.
i know there's a lot of hurt, and there's going to be more. but i promise comfort in the end i swearrrrr
