I Have To Act Just As Strong As I Can

Dean followed Castiel around like a watchdog, and even with Dean there to hold Garth's attention, the dog sat patiently with his head on Castiel's lap whenever he sat down and to make sure he ate dinner. Both of them monitored how long he was in the bathroom, and both of them insisted they sleep next to him.

Castiel did not speak to Dean the entire time. Or meet his eyes. Or allow himself to cry, as much as he wanted to. He just wanted to go to bed.

"I have my own room, Dean." Castiel grumbled, standing in Dean's room, refusing to get into the larger, and admittedly more comfortable bed despite Dean's nagging.

"Yes you do."

"I'm going to sleep in it."

"Okay," Dean said, standing up and grabbing the pillow from what was now his side of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Castiel huffed, running a hand through his bedraggled hair. It was the most they had spoken since leaving Charlies, and Cas could barely stand to look at Dean.

"Sleeping in your room, like you said. I'm fine on the floor."

"No, that's where I'm sleeping. You are staying here." Castiel frowned.

Dean set the pillow on the end of the bed and stared at Cas for longer than a passing glance. Longer than even a meaningful stare. He waited, waited until Cas was really listening to the silence around them. "Cas, I'm sorry."

"-Don't"

"I was an ass. I wasn't thinking. It was insensitive and more than a little bit cruel and I'm ashamed of myself for not thinking about how you would feel."

"Stop it, Dean. I don't want to talk about this now."

"I'm not asking you to talk. Just let me be here for you. You're right to be mad at me. You're right to not want to look at my face right now, but I'm not leaving you to sink into the hole we both know is waiting for you once you close your eyes. I'm not letting you face that alone. You can hate me the whole time, but I'm staying with you."

So Castiel found himself sleeping in Dean's bed for the second night in a row, but this time unable to look at the man himself. Instead, he laid on his back staring at the ceiling while Dean stared at him in the dark and Garth slept on the floor next to him instead of in his dog bed, snoring. Apparently, even the dog could tell Castiel was decidedly not okay.

He was thankful for the company and for the fact that Dean didn't ask him to talk or push to know more about his life. He was mortified that he had said so much in front of so many. Secrets he didn't tell just spewed from his mouth in his pain and anger. Even at Seminary where he'd made no effort to hide his scars, he never told people the truth. Just that he'd been in a fire. But now, everyone in his life who he could even attempt to consider a friend knew. They all knew.

Shame burned through him. Ripping apart his insides and setting the shattered remains aflame. Even his pain couldn't be private.

It was very late when he rolled toward Dean to find him staring back at him.

"Hi," Dean said.

"Hello, Dean."

"Can't sleep?"

"Can't anything," he said, and the tears he'd been holding in since before the car ride home seeped out of him, slow and persistent like his sorrow was just leaking out of him of its own accord.

"Okay," Dean smiled sadly and ran his fingertips across Castiel's brow. "Okay. I'm here."

They laid in silence, simple, easy, quiet. Dean pet his hair and ran gentle fingertips along his face as Castiel listened to Garth's snores and Dean's steady breath until finally, he eased into sleep.

He woke slowly, the smell of coffee and something cinnamon filling his senses. When he opened his eyes, the bed was empty, but he could hear Dean singing to himself in the kitchen. He couldn't help the smile that danced on his lips. Part of him was still mad. Part of him felt betrayed, as if Dean had taken an announcement out in the paper telling everyone about his messed up past, but the other part of him remembered how Dean had watched over him and gently soothed him, asking for nothing in return, until he slept, a surprisingly nightmare free sleep.

This life: sharing a bed, caring for the dog, making coffee. Supporting each other through pain, making mistakes and asking forgiveness without condition, it was all the kind of old-fashioned, June Cleaver life that wasn't made for guys like him. The kind of life that he was taught was an abomination. The world had changed, and he no longer believed those lies, but inside he still felt their sting so maybe it was time for him to catch up.

When Castiel stepped out, Dean was pulling cinnamon rolls from the oven, with his beloved apron over a pair of dress pants and a white dress shirt. He turned around and his closely shaved face and styled hair took Castiel's breath away. And then he smiled, and the whole room shrunk down to the beauty of the man before him. Even after all his chaos and drama and freakouts, that smile was still for him.

"You… look nice?" Castiel stuttered.

"Is that a question?" Dean shot him a half-smile as he took off his apron and took out two plates.

Castiel watched, stunned as he stood in his sleeping pants and long-sleeved shirt, while Dean puttered around, pouring coffee and setting the table.

"You just gonna stand there?" Dean asked, gesturing to the table, before sitting down and biting into his own breakfast.

Castiel took a tentative step forward and then tilted his head, staring at Dean.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No, no, I just, I've never seen you dressed up before," Castiel admitted.

"Ahh, stunned into silence by how well I clean up."

"Yes," Castiel said, earning himself a beaming smile.

"Why thank 'ya, sir?" Dean said in a terrible cowboy accent before taking a big sip of his coffee.

Castiel took a few tentative steps and sat down, taking a sip of his coffee. "So why all dressed up?"

"Oh, this? These are my Sunday best. I'm told you wear them to church."

Castiel sputtered and coughed on his coffee. "What?"

"I'm not really a jacket and tie guy, but if you think I should throw them on, I do have them. I thought this was a good middle ground. I mean, how fancy is Michael's church? Do men wear suits? Ohh do the women wear those big fancy hats? I always loved seeing people wear those around Easter when I was a kid."

"No, wait, I mean, what? Why are you dressed for going to church?"

"Eileen told me it was important to make sure you got there this morning, that it was important to you. Which I knew, but she really made a point about it, so I figured, the best way to do that was to drive you myself. You know, 'Get you to the Church On Time'" Dean smirked, amused by his own stupid joke.

Castiel set his coffee down and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Yeah, no, I get that. But you're not exactly in a place to make good decisions, so I figured, I can sit in the back. I don't have to play the role of minister's wife or anything. And I can wait in the car while you do your class and stuff until you're ready to come home. I downloaded a few new books onto my kindle to check out, so I'm good to just hang out. No one has to know I'm even there, but if you need me, I'll be nearby." Dean shoved the rest of his cinnamon bun in his mouth and chewed.

Castiel groaned and put his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. "Dean, I am not a child. I don't need..."

"Oh yeah, I know," he said with a full mouth full of cake. He stood up and pushed Cas's plate toward him before cleaning up his own.

"I know you have the best of intentions with this but...," Castiel started but Dean just started humming as he loaded the dishwasher with everything on the counter. The more he tried to get Dean's attention, the louder his singing became. He fed Garth, shoved Cas's breakfast closer again, swept the front porch until finally, he was picking up the bun as if to feed it to Cas directly.

"Dean," Castiel placed a hand on his wrist and stood up. "You are being stubbornly cute, and I appreciate it, but I'm okay."

"Sure, totally, why wouldn't you be?" Dean deadpanned setting the bun down. "You can fight me all you want, but I'm driving you this morning, and I'm gonna get my soul saved, and then if I'm lucky I'll get some of that coffee hour potluck food you're always talking about."

"Why is it whatever I ask of you, you seem to do the exact opposite?" Castiel shook his head and took a bite of his cinnamon bun, and stood up. "Fine, I'll get changed."

"I already took your keys in case you're contemplating climbing out a window," Dean called after him.

Dean parked the Impala in the back lot of the church reserved just for staff. Castiel put the little card he usually kept in his truck on the dash so they didn't get towed and looked at Dean one more time. His hands rubbed together and his leg hadn't stopped bouncing since they'd gotten in the car, and now it was time to get out. The idea of being around people, specifically people he needed to maintain some professionalism with, seemed impossible and draining.

"You can do this," Dean reassured, putting a strong steady hand on his vibrating knee. "I'll be right there, sitting in the back row, so if you need me, you can just turn around and I'll be there. Your nerves aren't because of here, they're like an echo, try not to listen and just be here."

Cas looked up at Dean from under wet hooded eyes. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?" Dean pulled his head back a little to get a better look at Cas.

"So nice to me. All I've done since I got here is send you mixed messages and act like a dramatic child. And yet you're still so kind."

"Cas, are you doing any of this on purpose?

"No."

"And when you say you're sending mixed messages, are you trying to hurt me?"

"No, I never…"

"Right, exactly. I understand that, even if you don't. And I'm the one who fucked up here, so let me be the one who feels bad and makes things better. You can do this." Dean took a leap and leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Cas's cheek. "Sometimes we have to fight for what we want," he whispered before pulling away, shooting Castiel a wink, and climbing out of the car.

Castiel sat still for a moment, trying to reign in his breath and his pulse. Maybe, maybe he hadn't ruined everything. Maybe Dean was right and this wasn't who he was, it was just the echo of something he'd left behind. He took a steadying breath and opened his door, only to find Dean waiting for him.

They walked in together, through the back. Castiel wanted to take Dean's hand, but he held back. Today was about being here, there would be time for that later. They stepped into the sanctuary just as the first hymn began. Dean bumped into him lightly before sitting in the back row while Castiel made his way up to the first row, his usual seat next to Duma.

To her credit, Duma gave him a small smile and didn't act overly different from usual, if not a little colder. Cas knew he'd hurt her but he prayed he could make it right and win her back as a friend.

The service flowed in the familiar and soothing sequence until it was time for Castiel to do his reading.

He stepped up to the podium, resting his shaking hands on the warm wood before him, and looked for Dean. He sat in the back, arms spread out over the back of the pew on either side of him, smiling as if he were watching a kid's ballet recital. Castiel sent up a silent thanks and read his piece clearly.

"Today's reading comes from 1 Corinthians 2-5:

I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God's power."

It was the one part of the service Michael had given him ownership of, it was small but so powerful for him to choose the message he shared each week. He couldn't have known how important the words he'd chosen would be that day, he couldn't have predicted that Dean would have even been at service, but this Sunday morning, he felt God speaking through him, and directly to Dean, and it felt like revelation.

Coffee hour whisked by as it usually did with greetings and casual conversations with congregants and visitors alike. He watched as Missouri greeted Dean with one of her magnificent hugs and immediately began scolding him for something. Castiel relaxed to see him comfortable and with people to talk to. When Duma didn't come to take her usual place at his side he wandered over, sure to catch her eye before approaching.

"Good morning, Duma."

"Hello, Castiel."

"You look well," he said before taking a sip of the acidic coffee the church served.

"Castiel, small talk feels, well just so small now."

Cas smiled at her and nodded.

"So you brought him?" she turned her attention to where Dean was laughing with Ellen. "Was this to make some kind of point? To make sure I got the message?"

"Duma, no! I… Things are not easy for me. Dean was kind enough to drive me and stick around so I wouldn't miss service today. Him being here has nothing to do with… us."

"With you dating," she clarified.

"Correct."

Duma huffed out a breath and looked away.

"None of this was intended to hurt you. I sincerely didn't mean to imply something more than… I just hope you can believe I'm sorry for ever hurting you. You mean a great deal to me."

She nodded, the hint of a tear in her eye. "I believe you Castiel. I just wish… maybe if things don't work out."

She looked up at him and Cas's heart clenched. "No Duma, I'm sorry. Even if things don't work with Dean, that's not in the cards for me."

She nodded again, a few times, and then looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I understand."

"Thank you for not hating me. I hope we'll be friends again."

"Hating you wouldn't be a very Christian thing to do, Castiel," she smiled sadly but finally met his eyes.

At the very end of the hour, as people were beginning to file out, Michael finally approached him with a hard slap on the back and a forced smile. "I see you were able to get our misanthropic Winchester here this morning."

"Dean is not misanthropic, just cautious," Castiel replied without thinking.

"Hmm, yes, well. Have you had time to work on your sermon for next week?"

"Yes, thank you again for the opportunity. I'm looking forward to it. I've been centering it around a reading from Galatians..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it's all very academic. Just, a word of advice? Don't get lost in your head, remember to reach out to people's hearts too."

Castiel frowned, certain there was an insult in there but unable to pinpoint it. "Yes, thank you. Also, I was thinking of moving bible study to a weeknight. Not many people are able to stay on Sundays."

"Yes, I think that's wise," Michael nodded. "It seems no one but Duma was planning on staying today anyway. Check the church schedule with her on Monday and set it up."

Castiel nodded and Michael wandered away, leaving Castiel alone for the first time since arriving. He looked out across the room and saw Dean helping the maintenance volunteers clean up the chairs and fold up the tables. It was like seeing a vision of the future, one where he had his church and his… Dean, together. Always though, there was something missing. And the tug on his heart hurt just a little more.