Castiel trudged along the dirt road, his hair wet from the misting rain and his body ached from carrying all his earthly possessions with him. He'd stupidly assumed that Sioux Falls would have a taxi service, or uber, or a bus system. Instead, he was stuck trudging along the road following the directions Reverend Michael had given him to the cabin where he would be renting a room for the summer.

Classes had ended at seminary just over a week ago and unlike his peers, he wasn't taking the summer to work or travel or go home to family. He was doing his outreach internship early. His family was difficult, to say the very least, but at seminary, studying religious texts and manifestations of faith in different cultures and surrounding himself with the holy word, he felt complete in a way he never had before.

So why waste the summer?

Instead, Evangelical minister Reverend Michael Saber had an opening for a youth minister and junior pastor. Bringing Castiel out to the middle of nowhere to serve god's purpose. At mile eight, with a backpack, suitcase, and computer bag, God's purpose was requiring a whole lot of faith, though. He was exhausted. The flight and train had been long enough. He was ready to sleep. But first, he had to find his way to some cabin in the woods, willing to rent a room to him at a price he could afford on his pittance of a salary.

He turned left at the fork in the road, passing by a no trespassing sign and mailbox with a sign hanging from it. The top line said, "Dean Winchester." The second line said, "Winchester Designs."

Huh.

He hadn't even spoken to this Winchester guy. All Michael had said was that he was a little gruff and not with the church, so don't get too comfortable. But a warm bed is a warm bed, and apparently, this guy had a spare car he could drive while he was here, so Castiel trudged on. He was probably some harmless old recluse anyway.

The path became less road and more gravel. Not much had been cleared back this way, mostly just mud and trees. He turned a corner and saw it. A simple wood cabin, beautifully made. The reds and browns of the wood shone out in the now dimming light and Castiel let out an audible sigh when he saw the picturesque porch swing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

He picked up his pace, eager to put his things away in his new home and stretch out on his bed, when a large, no giant, no massive dog came running toward him, barking as if he'd seen the juiciest steak bone that ever existed.

"Um, hi!" He said, watching as the beast's tongue loled out of his mouth and leaped toward him. The dog tackled him into the mud, making him drop his bags, and held him in place with gargantuan paws on his chest before leaning down and giving him a lick from chin to forehead with his long tongue.

Castiel sputtered, certain there was dog saliva in his mouth and tried to pick up and move one of the animal's paws, but he was trapped.

A loud whistle rang out from the house, and the dog bounded away from Castiel, leaving him soaked in an imprint of his body in mud. When he stood up, the creature sat happily next to a man with narrowed eyes.

"You must be Castiel," he said in a low baritone. "I'm Dean Winchester. I'm afraid you'll have to forgive Garth. He's a hugger."

Castiel sat in the mud and ran a hand through his hair before realizing what he was doing. Now he had mud in his hair and dog spit in his face and his ass was soaking wet and freezing. At his frown, Dean burst out laughing, an honest to god belly laugh that threw his whole body back.

Castiel gathered up his things and slogged the rest of the way to the porch. "Hello, Dean. I'd shake your hand but…" He shrugged and held out his brown and red mud-stained hand for inspection.

He was finally close enough to get a look at his new landlord/roommate. The man stood a few inches taller than him and dressed like a lumberjack. Stained and ripped jeans, a T-shirt with a flannel thrown over it with the sleeves rolled up. He had a full beard and hair a little too long, but not unattractively so. They appeared to be about the same age, despite the fact that Dean apparently owned all this land and the house while Castiel didn't own anything he hadn't carried here with him. He was strong; you could see it in the strength of his jaw and the taut muscles of his forearms, but not vanity strong, not gym strong. Dean was strong like a boxer, like a fighter, like someone who was good with his hands. Castiel had to look away.

Garth looked up at him, his whole body quivering with the desire to tackle Castiel again, or get his ears scritched, or perhaps murder a wandering drifter.

"Yeah, looks like he got you good," Dean ran a hand lovingly over the dog's head. "He's an Irish Wolf Hound, great for hunting and good company out here all alone, but he has no idea how big he is, and it would just break my heart to tell 'im."

And Dean smiled. A broad toothy grin that made his green eyes sparkle and lit his whole face up. A few crinkled lines appeared in the corners of his eyes, exuding happiness. Freckles spotted his sun-kissed skin and it was as if Castiel could see his soul. So open and earnest. What could Michael have possibly meant about him being gruff? This man, he was… he was beautiful.

Castiel shook his head. These were precisely the kind of thoughts that had gotten him kicked out of his house at seventeen until he'd proven he'd repented. Exactly what threw him headlong into the evangelical church, where purity of thought and body were equally important.

"Okay, well, take off your clothes out here. I'll get you a towel and you can use the outside shower." Dean said, disappearing inside the small cabin. He turned around at the last minute and pointed at Garth, "Stay."

Castiel stood utterly still. Take off his clothes? Like all his clothes? Here? Dean must have meant something else. So he waited, staring at Garth, who remained sitting and staring at him, tail wagging. The porch was only two steps up from the mud, but it was immaculate. The wood floor shining and warm Christmas lights blinked on along the awning as the sun worked its way down behind the horizon.

He walked closer and ran his hand down the logs of the house. They fit together so closely, he couldn't tell if they were all individual pieces or somehow came together preformed. He knew a little about woodworking; had helped rebuild a barn as a teen and even made a bench once, but nothing like this.

"Why are you still dressed?" Dean asked when he stepped back out, shocking Castiel out of his thoughts and almost making him fall over. "Whoa there, buddy, try to stay upright for a while, okay?"

"I, um, I wasn't sure if you were serious." Castiel stammered out.

"You'll learn, when it comes to this house or baby, I'm pretty much always serious."

Castiel blanched, no one had mentioned a child living here. "You have a baby?"

Dean laughed again. From someone else it would feel like they were laughing at him but from Dean, it was so warm and kind, Castiel found himself smiling even though he still wasn't in on the joke.

"No, man. That's what I call my car. I have a '67 Impala, she's mint and I think I love her more than Garth, but don't tell him."

"Your secret is safe with me. So you want me to just take off all my clothes, right here?"

"It's up to you, but you aren't coming inside until you take all that off and shower. The outdoor bath is around the corner. Just follow the stone path. Com'on Garth." Dean held the door open for the dog and went inside. The outdoor light flicked on above Castiel's head, leaving him alone in the cooling May evening.

"Fine." he stripped down to his boxers, including shoes and socks, and left all the dirty clothes in a pile. He grabbed the towel Dean had left for him and wandered around the house. He expected to find something akin to a beach shower, a spigot sticking out from the wall, and maybe a bucket and some rocks for the flooring. Instead, he found another complete room. It was built open and airy, Mediterranean style, with gaps between the wood wide enough to let in light but not enough to see through. When he stepped in, the room was much larger than he'd expected, the floor wood slats that allowed the water to drain but was smooth against Castiel's feet. Near the door were hooks and a bench and even a lightswitch that turned on gentle overhead lighting.

Behind a half-wall was a double-headed shower that heated up quickly.

Castiel stepped in and let the water simultaneously beat on his chest and back, heat relaxing the muscles that had cramped from his long ridiculous walk. The stress of moving across the country to a place he'd never been to live with a person he'd never even spoken to drifted away into nothingness. All that existed at this moment was the steam of the shower.

He picked through Dean's toiletries, using only what he needed, but he loved the rich smell of the soap he used to wash himself. The gruff man even had facewash he could use to try and get the mud out of his pores before he started looking like the 15-year-old version of himself.

After what felt like an extravagantly long shower, Castiel stepped out and dried off with this cream-colored towel, soft and plush. He was starting to feel like he'd walked into a dream until he remembered that he didn't have any clothes with him.

Fudge.

Castiel wrapped the towel around his waist, trying to pull it as tight as possible around his already thin frame and fruitlessly looked around to see if maybe there was another towel in here he could wrap around his shoulders. The walk back to the house drove his heart rate up. What would Dean think about him just walking in his house half-naked? What would he think about the burn scars scattered across his body or the small tattoo on his left ribs? Would he ask? Would he even notice?

Castiel was torn, he wanted to be invisible and just get dressed as quickly as possible, but at the same time, part of him longed for those green eyes to notice him. He paused at the front door. All of his bags were gone. There's no way someone stole them all the way out here unless someone had been following him.

He pushed the door open and opened his mouth to ask but was greeted by the sight of Dean once again taking his breath away by doing something completely unpredictable. He had taken off his flannel and was now wearing an apron and dancing with Garth. Elvis played in the background. Garth had one enormous paw on Dean's shoulder and the strange green-eyed man held the other. Dean sang along, his voice low and rough, but still lyrical and deeply, intensely sexy.

Not that Castiel noticed things like that.

He forgot about his state of undress and stared, a laugh bubbling up in his gut. Dean looked over at him and winked before dropping the massive dog's paws. "I was thinking I'd make burger's tonight so you can take your time settling in. We can go into town tomorrow to pick up anything you need. Oh, and I put your stuff in your room. Down the hall, the door's on the left. My room is across the hall and the bathroom's in the middle. Pretty simple design."

Dean shrugged and looked around the cozy kitchen, eating area, living room that took over the front of the cabin.

"Did you build this place?" Castiel asked.

"Every piece of it. Even the furniture. Except, you know... I did order the refrigerator and toilet. But I installed 'em." Dean ran his hand over his mouth, his eyes darting away from Castiel's as if embarrassed to have confirmed that he was in fact as impressive as Castiel suspected. After a minute, Dean looked back and caught Castiel's eyes with a smile. "Go on, man. Get some clothes on and I'll get the grill going. We can talk while we eat."

Castiel felt the red flush spread across his chest and up his face, blooming like poppies on his cheeks. The blush would only make his scars stand out, but Dean didn't seem to notice. He just held Castiel's eyes for a beat longer than necessary before looking away and busying himself pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"Scoot! I'm gonna wanna eat as soon as it's ready, so I don't wanna be waitin' on you." Dean smirked over his shoulder and tilted his head toward the hall.

Castiel scuttled to his room, where his suitcase, computer bag, and backpack all sat. The mud had been mostly wiped off of them and lined up along the wall of the little room. He had a twin-sized bed, a small dresser, a desk, and a closet. The desk sat under a window looking out into what had to have once been a garden, or maybe it was just intended to be one and no one ever got to it. The area was cordoned off and had once been tilled, but now looked more like a weed farm than a garden.

The furniture was all sturdy and firm. Castiel ran his hands along the desk, imagining Dean making all of this with his own hands. Hands that would be rough and calloused but knew how to make beautiful things come to life.

He opened his suitcase and dressed quickly in the little casual clothing he had, a pair of jeans and a longsleeved Christian Rock band t-shirt tucked in. He slipped on a pair of sandals and looked around his room one last time. His room. This could be good.

He stepped out into the hall and the door to Dean's room was ajar. He was tempted, so damn tempted to peek in, to learn more about this man and what kind of things he surrounded himself by. But that would be a violation of trust, and he'd learned a long time ago how essential it was to keep temptation in its place.

If he knew how to do one thing, he kept himself in line and avoided temptation.

So he stepped out of the cabin and followed the sound of music to where Dean stood with his back to him, dancing quietly, moving his hips as he flipped the burgers. Overhead were more of the same twinkling lights from out front, giving the area a homey feeling.

Castiel cleared his throat. "Hi. Thanks for taking my bags in. I could have done that."

"No big," Dean said, turning to him. "Beer?"

"Yeah, sure." Castiel caught the bottle Dean threw at him. Thank goodness.

Garth stood up and stretched from his spot next to Dean and came to nuzzle Castiel gently. "Hey puppy, this is much better," he said, scritching the dog's ears and leaning down to look into his big brown eyes. The dog was so full of personality, lifting his eyebrows and tilting his head when Castiel spoke. It almost felt like talking to a person.

"He's pretty great now that he's not trying to drown me in the mud."

"Yeah," Dean said, gathering the burgers onto a plate. "He's been out here with me since I moved here, good company."

"How long have you lived out here?"

"Oh, I bought the property once I found out how much scholarship money Sammy was gonna get. He got most of the tuition on scholarship but there was still a bit to cover, books and housing and stuff. So five years ago and then it took about 18 months to build. Although I'm not done with everything yet, still got some plans I'm bouncing around. "

"Is that your son? You don't seem old enough to have a son out of college." Castiel tilted his head in confusion.

Dean laughed again and gestured for Castiel to take a seat at the wooden picnic table. He placed the plate of cheeseburgers next to a bowl of mixed greens and started piling food on his plate.

"No, no, Sam is my little brother. Our parents passed away, so I've been pretty much raised him. He works at the little law firm in town as a paralegal. I keep telling him he could be a big fish if he'd just go to law school, but he and his wife like it here and I'm happy to have them."

Dean took two cheeseburgers and half a plate of salad. Castiel filled his plate and dove in. They ate in silence as the stars came out, the lights strung above them just enough for them to see what they were doing and just enough for Castiel to notice Dean kept throwing looks at him.

"So, you're working for Michael?"

"Yeah, I mean, not directly. It's a part of my seminary program."

Dean coughed, sputtering on his beer. "You're gonna be a priest?"

"No! I'm not Catholic." Castiel laughed at the sheer look of horror on Dean's face. "Seminary can be for all different kinds of Christians, depends on where you go and the classes you take. I'm from a non-denominational church."

"Like Michael's," Dean said, his voice turned dark.

Castiel just nodded. "How do you know Michael?"

"I don't really, but he'd asked Jody Mills, our Sheriff, about boarding options for you and she and I go way back. A few years ago, Michael spent a lot of time trying to, let's call it, recruit me. But it's just not my scene."

Castiel nodded but he could feel Dean's eyes on him.

"That going to be a problem for you, Cas? I don't go to church or say my rosary?" Dean stuffed half a burger in his mouth, his eyes suddenly hard.

"Again, not Catholic. And no, that's not a problem for me. Everyone finds their path to God in their own way at their own time. For some people, it's seminary; for others, it's the beauty of nature. God's love is there whether you're looking for it or not."

Dean set down his burger and stared at Castiel. For a moment, he worried that the other man was going to give him some anti-religious spiel or kick him out, but eventually, Dean just smiled. "Yeah," he nodded, "I like that."

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, until Dean got up to grab a second beer. He opened two and placed one in front of Castiel, who hadn't had more than one beer in a sitting in years. He thought better of it, but out here under the stars, comfortable with a snoring Garth at his feet, he gave himself permission.

"So Cas, I don't know how into cars you are but I've got a 1988 Ford F-250 sitting back in the barn you can use. I mostly only use it when I'm hauling something. Otherwise, I'm driving baby anyway. Just keep her clean and full of gas and we'll call it part of your rent."

Castiel takes his first sip of his second beer and looks at his hands wrapped around the bottle. "Why are you being so nice to me? You don't even know me. I could be anyone. I could rob you in your sleep or something."

"Yeah," Dean shrugged, taking another drink, "I guess you could. But Me and Sammy, we had it pretty rough growing up. I was four when our mom died, Sam was a baby, and our Dad didn't like to stay in one place for too long. I pretty much raised Sam and the closest thing we had to family was Bobby Singer, here in Sioux Falls. He took us in when our Dad ditched us. I'd just turned 18 and could legally look after Sam, who was 14, so Dad set us up in a motel and took off. I heard a few years later he'd died of congestive heart failure or something."

"I'm so sorry," Castiel leaned forward, his hands itching to take Dean's, but instead, he took another sip of his beer.

"No big loss, really. We'd been on our own long before he died. But my point is that Bobby had no cause taking me in with a criminal record full of petty crimes I did to prove my Dad right about what a shit I was and keep food on the table for Sam. But he saw past that and when he looked at us, he saw two kids, clinging to each other, just trying to get by. So when Jody asked me if I could take in some kid who needed a place to stay for a few months, of course I said yes."

Dean stopped talking, his eyes dropping from Castiel's down to his lips. "You're not what I expected tho, gotta admit. And you ain't no kid."

Castiel licked his lips without thinking about it, the beer making his brain fuzzy and his reactions slow. "I'm the wrong side of 30, actually. But most people assume I'm younger."

"Well, you look younger." Dean grabbed himself a third beer and raised an eyebrow at Castiel, who finished his in one long swig and nodded his head.

This time Dean was definitely watching his lips.

What had he gotten himself into?

"I guess I'm lucky then. Most of the other students in my program are a good ten years younger than me."

"What made you decide to go to Seminary?" Dean asked. He crossed his leg and set his ankle on his knee before leaning forward. His tshirt sleeves strained to hold in the strength of his arms and his long neck craned forward as if eager to hear Castiel's every word.

"It's a bit of a saga, honestly," Castiel pulled a drink from his beer, enjoying the numbing sensation and not wanting to fall into the pit of his past.

"You don't have to tell me nothin' you don't want to, Cas. I was just chatting." Dean's voice dropped lower, almost too soft to hear if you weren't listening for it.

"Oh, it's okay. I don't mind you asking. It's just… complicated. I spent some time after college trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted. I got into some trouble, nothing big except for that man I shot in Reno."

Dean coughed and snorted beer out of his nose. "Oh, fuck! I was not expecting that. Shit man. That covert funny thing you do is a health hazard."

"Hmm, I'll try to contain myself then," Castiel deadpanned, tilting his head and staring into Dean's eyes. They really were unreal, so green, with flecks of gold that sparkled under the lights.

They continued to banter as they cleaned up and carried everything inside. Castiel managed to avoid talking about his past while insisting he do the dishes. It's only fair since Dean did all the cooking.

After finishing his third beer, Castiel found himself in the hall staring into the verdant eyes of the strange man who had taken in a stray, his breath caught in his chest. He dropped his eyes to Dean's soft lips. How can a man who was crafted out of such hard and unbreakable material have lips that looked so sweet? He wanted to run his thumb over them, press his fingers into that mouth just to see Dean suck on them.

"I should go to bed," Castiel said, his eyes not leaving Dean's lips.

"Yeah, we probably both should."

Castiel looked up and saw Dean's dilated eyes and the way his breath came out in a shallow pant.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas."

They stood there for one more moment, Castiel wishing he were anyone else, anywhere else, just to avoid the torment he knew would come when he turned away and went to bed alone.