A Good Day is One Without An Ache In My Brain
Friday morning, Castiel woke with the sun, the breeze coming in his window cool and refreshing. It felt like rebirth.
He pulled on his cotton pants and went without the usual long sleeve shirt for his morning yoga. If he's going to be brave, he had to make a big gesture. If he wanted Dean to try and take a risk on him, he had to admit the risk he was taking. Because a kiss wasn't just a kiss anymore, he had to face what he knows he has always been, who he has always been. There was pain intrinsically linked to that for him.
But what if there could be joy too.
There were people he'd made promises to before and people he still tried to do the best he could for, but it never felt like enough. He did what he knew was right, but never what scared him. He repressed, he sacrificed, but he never changed.
He stepped out of his room, walking with his shoulders back and grabbing his yoga mat to do his stretching outside.
He settled in, spreading his mat out, and began a comfortable stretch, rotating his shoulders, twisting his core, rocking his hips. He stood, placed the flats of his palms on the ground, and rolled his back up, pulling his arms above him and then lowering them into prayer position before him.
"Top of the mornin' to ya!" Dean called with a silly accent, opening the door, letting Garth out to run around the yard.
Castiel could hear the moment Dean realized what he saw. It was like he could feel the other man's eyes roving over the scarred lines on his back, the burn marks that dripped from his shoulder, down his arm, back, and along the right side of his chest and stomach. But Dean didn't gasp or swear. He didn't yell or demand to know the story of what happened. Instead, he stepped forward and placed a kiss on Cas's unmarked shoulder.
"I'll make the coffee," he said against his skin, breath sweet and light.
"I'll be there in a minute."
"Take your time." Dean stood and watched as Cas resumed his practice, sliding into downward dog and lifting himself through a sturdy plank and up into upward dog. Cas pulled his leg forward and settled into pigeon pose as the door closed.
He breathed through his fear, pulling in the morning air and filling his lungs with hope, exhaling the demons that had held him back this long. He refused to let the blackness creep in and keep him from being the person he wanted to be, from nurturing the relationships and the people he loved. He would do better. He promised himself that today he would text Hannah on the burner he'd gotten her, so she knew it was okay to call and start to make arrangements. It was time for things to change.
Inside, Castiel found Dean sitting on the couch; coffee held between two hands as he let the steam rise into his face. He nodded at Castiel's mug and smiled up at the now sweating man.
He wiped himself down with his towel before taking his own mug and sitting on the other end of the couch, earning an eyebrow raise from Dean. Castiel chuckled and scooted closer, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged.
"So I thought tattoos were forbidden," Dean said into his coffee.
Castiel looked at him, eyes wide, and then burst into laughter. It was probably the freest laugh he'd ever let escape his lips. One of pure surprise and delight. He'd spent all morning confronting his worst fears, imagining the way Dean would recoil from the horror of how his body had been disfigured, the way he would crumble underneath the shame of who he was. But no. Dean, as usual, managed to do the one thing that was both completely unexpected and desperately needed.
"They are. I got it after I left for Seminary. No one in my family has ever seen it."
"You're dirty little secret, then," Dean winked and Cas laughed again.
"What does it say?"
Cas stood and let Dean look at the delicate script that ran in three lines over his left lower ribs: Beloved, let us love one another,
because love is from God;
everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.
1 John 4:7-8
Dean reached out but looked at Castiel for permission before touching. When Cas nodded, he ran his finger over the words, a delicate, reverent touch. He read them aloud and smiled. "You escaped a religious cult to study religion and then have a bible verse tattooed on your body?"
Castiel shrugged. "They took everything else from me. I wouldn't let them take God."
Dean nodded, and then his eyes traced over the burn running down his right side.
"Will you tell me?" His voice was gentle.
"Without a sheet tent?" Cas smiled and sat down, pulling himself up on the couch so he could look at Dean.
"I will cover the whole room in sheets if that's what you need." Dean's smile was sincere but sad.
"Holy Oil."
"What?"
"I was anointed with holy oil, to drive the demon out of me. My family, my church, believes that homosexuality isn't just a sin. It's a demon."
"They performed an exorcism to try and make you straight."
Castiel nodded and set down his coffee before holding out his forearms. The scars there were different, deeper, and more haphazard. "First, they tried to cleanse me from the outside. Scrubbing with metal and sandpaper. Then they tried to cleanse me from the inside."
"Starving you…"
"And…" He looked down, his lashes covering the blue of his eyes. "I'd rather skip this one."
"Of course," Dean's hand fluttered over Castiel's knee and finally landed in a gentle butterfly touch.
"Then they beat me. Well, they beat me all along, but my back, that was extraordinary."
"How many times?"
"You mean how many lashes or how many days?"
Dean's hand gripped Cas's knee tight. "Fuck, man."
"And when nothing worked, they baptized me in Holy Oil. It was only Ishram's vanity that kept them from pouring it over my head. He didn't want to look at me with scars on my face."
Dean lifted his hand and placed two fingers on the sharp bone of Castiel's shoulder. "They poured oil on you and lit you on fire?"
"Mmm," Cas couldn't look at him, his heart full of too many emotions to process them all at once.
Dean traced his fingers down the other man's arm, to the hard skin that pooled at the inside of his elbow before disappearing down a strong forearm. He reached up again, and Castiel's breath stuttered, his eyes flickering closed. Dean traced the edge of the burn, the thickened sensitive skin, down Castiel's chest, across his stomach, stopping only when he reached the waistband of Cas's pants.
"How far does it go?"
"Just down my right leg. My thigh isn't pretty, but it's healed well."
"They could have killed you." Dean's voice was gruff and thick.
"I know. In some ways, they did."
"How did you get out?"
"I became who they wanted me to be." He shrugged, remembering the things he'd done, the lives he'd hurt. "I finally stopped fighting, so they let me go to college, community and then commuter, never out of sight. I followed all the rules and did everything I was told, no matter how humiliating, until I'd proven I could be trusted. And as soon as I was away, as soon as I was at seminary, I swore I'd never go back. But-"
"No." Dean cut him off, his hands shaking with rage and fear. "Castiel, you can never go back there. No matter what. You can stay here. You can stay with me as long as you want to. There is nothing worth going back to a place like that for. Please."
Cas looked sad and tilted his head. "You may not always mean that, and it may not be an option. I have obligations. I'll have to see what happens."
"I'll come after you. I won't let you go." Dean's eyes filled with meaning well beyond his words, pulling on Castiel's heart. "Look what you've done already. You've only been here two months and you have Michael furious, which I personally find hysterical, you're preaching love, you're making a life, you're starting programs, and opening a half-way house…"
"Mary's House."
"What?" Dean stops moving. He stops breathing.
"If you and Sam are okay with it. I'd like to call the new rectory program Mary's House. Mother Mary would have appreciated the reference, us taking in those who have nowhere else to go, shelter in the storm if you will, and I think your mother would too. I'm sure she is eternally grateful for what Bobby did for you. The parallel is so clear to me."
Tears gathered in Dean's eyes.
"But if it makes you uncomfortable…"
Dean cuts him off with an awkward, fumbling kiss. They are all elbows and knees, in no position to really explore each other, but it's not that kind of kiss. Its sweetness is all the more real for it. Castiel can taste salt on Dean's lips. Dean grips Castiel's face, pressing firm adoring lips against his, licking at his mouth until they open up and they taste each other again.
It's hard to believe it's been so long since the one passionate kiss he had shared with the beautiful green-eyed man before him. He tasted so familiar, so right. His body ached to climb on top of him and push him into the couch below them. He wanted to lick and taste every part of Dean. He wanted to possess him.
But he took a breath and pulled back, leaving a panting Dean: lips open, eyes closed.
"Cas, can I ask you a personal question?"
"As opposed to the impersonal things we've discussed so far this morning?" Castiel tilted his head with a fond grin.
"I'm serious."
It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts enough to reply. "Yes, what is it, Dean?"
"Have you ever had sex with a man?"
Castiel blanched and his body physically curls in on itself. "You aren't one for euphemisms, are you?"
"Not about this. We've had enough misunderstandings."
"I… No. I was attracted to someone in Seminary but it never progressed beyond a few kisses and stolen gropes in the library."
"That's what I thought." Dean nodded and looked down at his hands in his lap. "I don't really know what to do with that. I mean, I feel like I should be respectful, but you're also a grown-ass man, so who am I to keep pulling back when you look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want me to eat you alive. Like you want to take me over that coffee table until I can't speak." Dean's eyes flash golden in the morning light and Cas lost all ability to think. His hands curl into fists and every muscle in his body tightened with want.
"You still want me? Even with all this?" He gestured to his scars and Dean's eyes turned tender.
"You are the strongest, sexiest, most amazing thing I've ever seen, Cas. You took all that and then fucking tattooed your rebellion right on top of it. So yeah, yeah, I still want you. I might even want you more."
Castiel looked down at his hands. The compliment, the idea of someone like Dean, someone beautiful and smart and confident, thinking he was worth their time, overwhelmed him. The years of berating ran through his mind. He was worthless, hideous, a perversion. Words he'd silenced as much as he could came pouring out into his mind.
Dean smiled at him still, in the streaming sunlight, his hair pulling out streaks of blonde and red. He had no idea who Castiel really was. If he did, how could he possibly want him?
"So, I'm starving. Let's have breakfast and then I have a new commission. Don and Maggie Stark want a new dining room table and they've given me free rein on the budget." Dean got up as he talked, gesturing for Castiel to follow him into the kitchen. "They showed me some pictures of what they like, inlaid mosaic work, it should be a lot of fun, so I need to spend the day researching and drawing, see if I can put something together they'll like."
"That's fine, I still need to work on my sermon and make some more headway on my thesis, and I have Youth Group tonight." Castiel added, falling into the easy rhythm of mornings with Dean. Without even realizing it, they had begun planning their days together, who would be home when what they'd do for dinner. The ease of moving through the kitchen with Dean, dancing around each other with a hand on the small of his back or a touch of an arm, was intimate in the most special kind of ways.
"Right," Dean stopped pulling things from the fridge and turned to Castiel, "So," he paused, waiting to catch Cas's eye, and then pulled his hand up to reach back and grab the back of his neck. "I haven't taken you to The Roadhouse yet. Jo's Mom, Ellen-"
"-Ellen Hargraves?"
"Yeah, you know her?"
"She's in my bible study group. She doesn't say much but I like her a lot."
"Well, she'll say a lot at The Roadhouse."
Castiel quirked an eyebrow.
"It's like a roadside bar, pool, darts, great greasy burgers and fries."
"Whiskey?" Cas asked, knowing Dean's penchant for the drink.
"As much as you can handle. So, I was wondering if you'd want to go."
"Of course, it sounds fun." Castiel smiled but saw something in Dean's appearance that made him frown. "Is that not what you'd hoped I'd say?"
"It is. I just... Cas, I'm asking you out on a date. Not just to check out the local pub."
"Oh," Cas folded the dishcloth in his hand and set it down on the counter. "I've never been asked on a date before. What should I wear?" He leaned forward to whisper, "What if he doesn't like me?"
"Alright, fine, no flowers and romance for you," Dean shoved Castiel out of the way. "Go take a shower. Breakfast will be ready when you're done."
"Thank you, Dean." Castiel leaned in and placed a peck on his cheek. "And yes, I'd love to go on a date with you."