When Jo placed another glass down in front of him, he picked it up and knocked it back.
"Another," he wheezed as he set the glass down again, relishing in the burn as the liquid made its way down his throat.
"Are you sure?" she asked him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
He responded by nudging the glass closer to her.
With reluctance, she refilled it.
"Dean?" a female voice called out. "Dean Winchester?"
That sounded like... But it couldn't be. He turned around, eyes widening when he saw the woman who'd broken his heart all those years ago standing right in front of him. "Cassie?"
She smiled self-consciously, as if suddenly realising that she didn't know what to say. "How have you been?" she settled for eventually.
Amazing. He had a fantastic boyfriend and was sorting his life out. Awful. His boss was dead and he'd probably lose his job. "Fine," he lied. She still seemed unsure of herself so, to make her feel more at ease, he offered to buy her a drink.
One drink turned into two, then three. He'd spent so long hurting whenever he thought about his relationship with Cassie that he'd forgotten how smart and funny and fierce she was. They'd been great together, and a part of him regretted that it hadn't worked out.
As she laughed at something he'd said, she rested a hand on his arm. His eyes were drawn to it, warm and soft on his skin. As she fell silent, his eyes followed her hand as she stroked his arm.
"I've been thinking about you, lately," she admitted. "My father passed away, and it got me thinking about the things I regret." She waited until he looked at her before continuing. "I regret the way we ended," she revealed. "I wish I hadn't walked out the way I did. I came back the next day, but you'd gone."
"You'd made it pretty clear we didn't have a future," Dean reminded her. "There was no reason to stay." He swallowed. "You were the only reason I'd stuck around so long."
"I know. Do you think...? Is there a chance that we could..?"
He stared at her, knowing what she was asking. A year ago, if she'd walked into The Roadhouse and asked if they could give their relationship another shot, he might have said yes. At the very least, he'd have hooked up with her for old time's sake. But now... No matter how many regrets he had about the way they'd ended, what he had now was better than what he'd had then.
"I'm sorry."
Cassie forced a smile, and nodded her acceptance.
"I'm seeing someone," Dean told her apologetically, somehow feeling the need to explain. He felt a little guilty, wondering if he'd misled her.
"That's okay," she said, even though it was clear she was disappointed. "I had my chance, and I blew it." She paused, then added, "Whoever she is, she's really lucky."
"I don't know about lucky..."
"I do," she said.
One side of his mouth turned up as his eyes glanced down, taking the compliment but not believing it. As he met her eye again, he had no idea what to say to fill the awkward silence.
"Goodbye, Dean," she said, and kissed him farewell.
"Goodbye, Cassie," he told her softly.
He watched her leave, suddenly filled with a sense of closure he hadn't known he'd needed. With it, came the desire to go home to Cas. He looked for Jo so he could settle his tab, only to find her staring at him.
"What?"
"You'd better chase your boyfriend out the door and beg for his forgiveness before he becomes your ex-boyfriend."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked her, the alcohol slowing his thought processes.
"Cas saw you. You're a complete dumbass, you know that?!"
"Cas is at home."
"Cas just walked in the door, and walked right back out again."
"Shit!" Dean leapt off his stool, stumbled, and ran for the door.
In his hurry, he threw all his weight against it as he pushed it open, causing it to slam against the wall with a bang. Cas was standing in the parking lot, staring at the Impala. As Dean grew closer, he watched as Cas drew his foot back and kicked the tyre as hard as he could before sagging against the car in defeat. Dean swallowed down his instinctual anger, instead making a stupid joke about Cas not getting dirty fingermarks on the hood.
Cas turned to look at him, and Dean's stomach twisted as he registered the tears streaking down his face.
"Cas, it's not what it looked like." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, because it was such a cliché that would do nothing to reassure Cas.
"So I didn't just see you kissing some random woman?"
"It's not a random woman, Cas. That was... That was Cassie."
Cas stared at him for a moment, before fresh hurt clouded over his face. "Cassie?! Your ex Cassie?!"
And shit, could Dean make this any worse? "It's not like that! I didn't know she was in town." He needed to make Cas understand, to make him see that it didn't mean what he thought it meant. But the words wouldn't come. "Cas," he said, trying to pull him closer.
"No!" Cas said, pulling back. "No, you don't get to do that. I'm going home, Dean. Don't try to follow me - I need to be alone for a little while."
Dean stood there, not registering the soft fall of rain as it landed on his skin. He did, however, feel the arm wrapping around him a little while later.
"How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough," Ellen told him. "Come on."
She led him through to the staff room, picking up Dean's drink on the way. Once he'd settled down on the couch, she handed it to him.
"Don't spill it," she warned him. "Now tell me, who was that girl?"
Dean drained his glass before telling her, "The only girl I've ever loved."
"Oh, boy," Ellen said.
She left the room for a second, before returning with another two drinks. They drank in silence together until Dean finally felt like talking.
"I told her stuff about me. My past. First time I opened up to anyone, and she didn't want anything to do with me." He sniffed.
"Do you still love her?"
Dean shook his head. "No."
"So what was that tonight?"
"It was goodbye," he told her again. "When she walked out on me, I packed up my stuff and left town. I never saw her again."
"Like finishing a book but not closing the cover."
"I guess."
"And tonight you closed the cover."
"Yeah. I guess you could say she thought there was more to read."
"But you're reading a different book, now?"
Dean wiped away tears and nodded. "You sound like my counsellor. She's always coming out with stuff like that."
"Well, you're not the only one who needs therapy," Ellen admitted quietly. "Never thought I'd hear myself saying that. But I can't afford to be messed up when I've got this place to take care of, and a daughter to look after." She finished her drink while Dean took in her admission. "You know, I watched this film a while ago. John Cusack had this idea that you go through heartache so the universe lets your heart grow back bigger, or something. I thought it was a load of BS at the time, but now I think that maybe he was right." She cupped his chin, ensuring she had his full attention, before telling him, "You've got a lot of love to give that poor boy, if you can fix things with him."
Dean looked at her. "Can I stay here tonight?"
"No. Drink some coffee," she said, starting to make a fresh pot. "Sober up as best you can. Give him a little time, then go home and fix it. Trust me," she added softly. "You don't want to waste a second with him."
. * * * .
When Dean got home, Cas was sitting on the sofa in darkness. He put the light on, and walked further into the room. As he got closer to Cas, he realised that he'd been doing a lot more crying since he left The Roadhouse.
"She wanted to get back together," Dean blurted out. "I said no."
Cas wrapped his arms around himself like a shield against Dean's words.
"You need to know, it didn't mean anything. I mean, it did mean something, but it wasn't what you think. It wasn't romantic. It was... It was goodbye."
"I've never seen you say goodbye to anyone else like that," Cas said accusingly.
"She kissed me!" Dean wished that Cas would look at him. "You've got to understand, Cas, that the way our relationship ended... I never got closure." He tried to explain it better than he had to Ellen, throwing in Ellen's book metaphor for good measure. When he was finished, Cas sat there in silence.
"Are you going to say anything?"
"Are you done?" he asked. "I'd like to go to bed."
Dean was caught off guard. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm done."
When Cas started making up the couch, however, he exclaimed, "You can't be serious?!"
"You're lucky I'm even sleeping under the same roof as you."
"Where else are you going to go?" he asked without thinking.
Cas turned and slapped him.
Dean froze, too shocked to do anything. In front of him, Cas looked almost as shocked as he felt. Then he dropped his gaze to the floor and tensed, as if waiting for Dean to hit him back. A moment later Dean's stomach clenched as he realised that was exactly what Cas was waiting for.
"Can you please go to bed?" Cas asked him quietly, and Dean hated how small his voice sounded as he asked him that.
He was torn between doing what Cas asked, and doing what he thought Cas needed. After a moment's hesitation, he compromised. Stepping closer - slowly, so as not to startle Cas - he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before bidding him goodnight. Hopefully Cas could go to sleep knowing that Dean didn't blame him for lashing out.
. * * * .
Dean didn't sleep well that night. He tossed and turned, occasionally slipping into a fitful doze. He dreamt that he was a stuffed bear, and Cas and Cassie were children fighting over him; each holding onto an outstretched arm and pulling, pulling, pulling until he thought he'd tear in two.
. * * * .
Cas didn't sleep at all. He lay there listening to the steady tick, tick, tick of the clock, slowly passing the hours until morning. He mulled over what Dean had said; that his kiss with Cassie had only given him the closure he hadn't known he'd needed. He understood the need for closure - no matter how well his counselling sessions with Pamela went, he'd never fully be able to leave his father in the past unless he faced him again. But Castiel was too much of a coward to do that.
. * * * .
Dean got up around three, glancing longingly over at the empty side of his bed before dragging himself out to go and relieve his bursting bladder. As he washed his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror above the sink.
He looked like shit.
He splashed some water on his face before he dried his hands, then hesitated as he left the bathroom. Before he realised he'd decided to move, his feet were taking him to the living room. He hovered around outside for a few minutes, listening.
All he could hear was the ordinarily quiet tick, tick, tick that sounded so much louder in the dead of night. He turned to go back to bed.
. * * * .
At some point in the middle of the night, Cas heard Dean get up. He heard the bathroom door close, then a few minutes later heard his footsteps grow louder instead of quieter. He rolled onto his side, pulling the covers up to his chin and closing his eyes as he tried to keep his breathing steady.
A few minutes later, he heard Dean walking away.
. * * * .
Dean dreamt he was a teddy bear again.
This time Cas didn't fight for him, however. This time he gave Dean to Cassie and walked away. He wanted to run after Cas, to choose Cas, but he was just a toy - he couldn't move.
. * * * .
When the clock struck five, Cas gave up on trying to sleep. He switched on the light and dug out his knitting.
I must remember to water Balthazar's plants today, he thought to himself as the needles clacked together. I don't want them to shrivel up before he— No, I watered them today. Yesterday, he reminded himself. He yawned. "I'm so tired," he announced to the empty room.
Love is like a garden, he mused as the scarf he was knitting slowly took shape. It takes a lot of work to get it right. You need to dig out dead plants, plant new ones, prune old trees, and root out pests and disease... But when the flowers bloom, it makes it all the hard work worth it; however, if you want flowers, sometimes you have to put up with thorns.
His hands stopped as guilt flooded through him. Dean had put so much work into helping Cas get back on his feet, and last night Cas had slapped him.
Castiel's head snapped to the side as the back of his father's hand impacted with the side of his face. He blinked back tears as he turned back to his father.
Tears trailed down Castiel's cheeks as he wrung his hands absently, the needles abandoned in his lap. He hadn't thought about his father for some time. He'd seen no need to dwell on the darkness in his past when his future had seemed so bright.
When the clock struck six, he abandoned his knitting and got out of bed.
. * * * .
Dean heard the shower running and looked at the clock - a little after six. He dragged a tired hand across his face, before hauling himself out of bed. It was too early to get up - especially considering how little sleep he'd gotten - but at the same time it felt too late; too late to make things right with Cas.
Dawn was breaking but, as there wasn't enough daylight to truly see by, Dean switched on the kitchen lights. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he opened the refrigerator and dug out eggs and milk, whisking them in a bowl with some flour.
It wasn't long before Dean heard the shower turn off, and Cas walked through in his boxers, the hair at the back of his neck slightly wet.
"What are you doing up so early?" Dean asked quietly, realising the hypocrisy of his question.
"I couldn't sleep," Cas whispered back warily, eyeing the messy countertop. "Why are you?"
"I barely slept a wink. Heard you get up, so decided I'd make you breakfast." Dean hesitated. "I figure I've got a lot of grovelling to do."
"I was going to make you breakfast," Cas told him. He frowned. "Why are we whispering?"
"I don't know. Because it's early?"
"There is nobody else in this apartment to risk waking up," Cas stated, speaking at a normal level.
"Yeah, I know."
"You're making pancakes?" Cas asked, seeing the bowl of batter sitting on the counter.
"Yeah."
"I was going to do a full breakfast."
"What, is this a competition now?" Dean said, a little sharply. "You want a full breakfast, I'll do a full breakfast."
"No, that's not what I—" Cas bit his lip. "Pancakes are fine. They're more than fine - I like pancakes. But you like a full breakfast."
"I'm making you pancakes, Cas."
"Then I'll make you a full breakfast."
"I'm trying to apologise here, Cas."
"And I'm trying to extend an olive branch! I want to talk about last night without getting into another fight. Can we do that?"
Dean swallowed. "I'd like to."
"Good," Cas smiled.
They stood at opposite sides of the kitchen, just looking at each other; Dean waiting for Cas to speak, Cas trying to work out what to say.
"If I hadn't been there last night," Cas started hesitantly, as if afraid to hear the answer, "would you have told me?"
Dean's immediate reaction was to say 'of course', but he swallowed that down and thought about it. "I might have mentioned seeing Cassie. But I'd probably have left out the kiss."
"At least you're being honest," Cas acknowledged. "You know, when I saw the two of you last night, I was reminded of that night you hit on Jo, and I couldn't help but wonder how many... how many other..."
"Hey, no. Don't do that," Dean soothed him as Cas choked on the words. "Jo was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake because I was struggling to accept how I felt— how I feel about you. I told Cassie I was seeing someone. And she said they were pretty lucky. And she was right."
Cas reached up to cup his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb, and Dean turned into his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"When you talked about me sleeping with other people," Cas started, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "was it because you want to sleep with women?"
"No!" Dean denied vehemently. "Cas, I am very much a one-woman - or one-man - guy. I was talking out of my ass the other night. You were right, then - I wouldn't be okay if you needed to look elsewhere because I couldn't satisfy you."
Castiel's shoulders sagged with relief at Dean's sincerity. "Did you honestly think that you would be?" he asked with a soft chuckle.
"No," Dean admitted seriously. "But I'd have tried to be."
"You'd have lived a life of misery, just to share your life with me?"
"I guess. Yeah."
Cas sighed. "Dean Winchester, you're a fool. Do you honestly think I'd want you to be miserable?"
Dean picked at his nail. "No."
"Would you want me to be miserable, just to be with you?" he asked, pushing home his point softly.
"Aren't you?" Dean shot back, self-hatred in his eyes.
Cas's stomach twisted. "No," he answered honestly, "but I suppose I understand that it wasn't a romantic kiss. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"If someone else was making eyes at you, I'd want to kill them. But I don't love her anymore, and I don't want to be with her. I only want to be with you."
"You've told me that you don't feel like you can be enough for me, but sometimes I wonder if I can be enough for you," Cas admitted.
Dean wrapped his arms around him and pulled him flush against him. "You're more than enough. Cas, you're everything. I'm sorry that I made you doubt that, and I'm sorry if I was an asshole last night. I hope you know that Ellen and Jo are as much your friends as they are mine, and they'd have taken you in if you hadn't wanted to stay here last night."
Cas opened his mouth but then closed it again, for he doubted that Dean would be happy if he'd reminded him that he had Balthazar's key. The last time Cas had walked out, that's where he'd gone, and Dean had taken that pretty badly. "I hope that they'd stay my friends if we broke up. I'd miss them."
"I don't want to sound like a chick, but I don't even want to think about us breaking up. I want to keep you all to myself, because I'm selfish and greedy like that."
Dean leaned in for a kiss, meeting Cas's cheek when he turned his face away. Hesitating for a second, he then trailed a like of kisses down his neck.
"I haven't forgiven you, yet," Cas told him, his voice a little breathy.
"I know."
"I'm still mad at you," he insisted, even as his body trembled when Dean sucked a red mark on his skin.
"I know."
"Three strikes, you're out," Cas warned him. "I can't spend forever feeling insecure in our relationship. That's two."
"Of all the times for you to pick up baseball terms..." Dean said, half-jokingly. But he knew he was on thin ice with Cas. When his stomach growled, Cas pulled away.
"I'm going to cook breakfast."
"I can cook!"
"You melted a spatula the other day!" Cas laughed. "But how about you make us pancakes for lunch? That way it gives the batter a chance to rest."
"Okay, fine," Dean agreed, digging out the plastic wrap. He covered the mixing bowl and took out the sausages and bacon to make room for it in the fridge. He grabbed a couple of eggs out of the box, too, and carried them all over to Cas, who was already heating a little oil in a frying pan. "Need anything else?"
"I don't think so. Why don't you take a quick shower? The sausages will take a while."
. * * * .
When Dean came back, hair still damp, he pressed up behind Cas and wrapped his arms around him.
"Cooking, here," Cas told him.
Dean nibbled his ear. "Delicious."
"Dean Winchester, what—" His laughter cut off as he sucked in a breath when a hand palmed over his groin. "Dean?"
"I want to show you how sorry I am," Dean murmured. "Can I? Will you let me?"
When Cas turned around, he was struck dumb by the sheer want in Dean's eyes. He allowed Dean to lead him away from the cooker and into their bedroom.
"You don't have to," Cas told him, echoing Dean's words back at him when he noticed him hesitating.
"I want to," Dean said, surprising himself that he did. Cas had seemed to enjoy blowing him, and he was curious about what it would feel to have Cas in his mouth. "It's just... you're clean, right?"
"You know I have had no other sexual partners, Dean. Of course, that doesn't mean that—"
"I meant you showered, right?"
"Oh! I did, yes."
"Good."
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I hit you."
"I deserved it."
"No, you didn't."
"Yeah, I kind of did."
"It doesn't matter what you did," Cas told him firmly, "violence is never an acceptable response. And I'm sorry."
Dean looked up at Cas and swallowed. Licked his lips. Glanced down at Cas's half-hard cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave it a couple of long strokes before licking his tongue over the head.
"I love you, Dean," Cas breathed.
Dean snorted. "If you love me now, how are you going to feel about me when I get you all in my mouth?"
"Don't try to take it all," Cas told Dean as he sucked on the head of his cock. "Just take what you can."
"Porn stars do it."
"You're not a porn star."
Dean looked up at him seductively. "Are you saying I couldn't be a porn star?"
"Dean, if you were a porn star, I'd own all of your movies."
Dean chuckled and returned his attention to Castiel's dick, rapt with fascination as it filled and grew before his eyes. Sure, his own had done this far more times than he could ever hope to count, but knowing that it was him who was doing this to Cas - being able to see what it was that he did to Cas - somehow made it all the more awesome.
He worked Cas's cock with his mouth and hands, belatedly remembering to pay some attention to his balls - and really, as a fellow man he should know better.
He listened closely to the sounds Cas was making as he neared the edge, then jumped as a shrill piercing ringing filled their apartment.
"The sausages!" Cas yelled as he raced to the kitchen, followed closely by Dean.
Chuck raced out of the room when they opened the door; Cas rushing to remove the frying pan from the hot ring and Dean hurrying to open the windows. They flapped tea towels around, trying to usher the smoke outside.
"What was it you were saying about me cooking?" Dean teased once the kitchen was clearer and they'd collapsed back into bed.
"You distracted me," Cas complained.
"So much for breakfast," Dean joked as he snuggled up against Cas.
Cas yawned. "We got up too early."
Their erections had softened, but Dean took both their cocks in a spit-slicked hand and jacked them off, slow and steady.
. * * * .
When they woke up, it was mid-morning. Cas decided that by the time he'd've gotten ready, he would have missed church anyway. "I don't really mind," he told Dean as he snuggled closer. "I suppose it's okay to miss church for one week."
"That makes a big difference from when you first moved in."
"Don't make fun of me, because it's not my fault the way I was raised."
"I know," Dean assured him. "You can just get on your knees and pray, telling God that you would ask for forgiveness except that it's his fault for giving you such a sexy ass boyfriend!"
Cas laughed. "You're right. I could get on my knees..." he said, slowly crawling down the bed until his mouth was level with Dean's dick.
"Oh, God... Isn't it me who owes you a blow job?" he asked, fighting back the urge to thrust deeper into Cas's mouth.
"Who's keeping track?" Cas murmured as he started mouthing at Dean's balls.
Dean groaned as his whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Castiel's warm, wet mouth. "Keeping track of what?"