All The Chance I Need Is One-In-A-Million
"Hey, Cas," Dean's soft, dark voice broke through the warmth of his sleep. "Come on, let's go to bed." Dean ran his fingers through Cas's thick dark hair, massaging his scalp to pull him gently back to waking.
"Mmm, I'm good here," Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and snuggled in tighter.
Dean chuckled, running his hand over Castiel's shoulder and arm, feeling the thick muscle that corded down his body. Despite his generally easy demeanor, Cas was all hardness and tension. He carried the weight of the world on in his body.
"I can't even carry you if you keep me trapped like this. You're gonna have to get up like a big kid and get into bed. And if some part of you wants a goodnight kiss, you're gonna need to brush those teeth." Dean laughed again softly and pushed Castiel forward.
With a louder than required grumble, Castiel stood up and stretched, raising his arms up and arching his back. His hips tilted forward as his shirt rose above the line of his belt, showing off a swath of tan skin that made Dean's mouth water.
"Jesus Cas, that stretch was pure porn," Dean said, his eyes directly at crotch level.
"Oh, I…" Castiel backed away, shy and embarrassed.
"Don't worry, I know how to keep it in my pants, I'm not gonna jump you, not without an invitation anyway" Dean stood and placed a chaste kiss on Castiel's lips. "Dibs on the bathroom."
Castiel changed into his sleeping pants, and left the shirt off the way he would if he lived alone, or was back at home. This bravery game was harder than he expected, but he tried to keep himself focused not just on Dean, but on who he wanted to be: what kind of role model, what kind of man. When he heard the bathroom door open, he went to wash his face, brush his teeth, and get ready for bed.
When he came back he stood for a second in the hall, lingering, trapped between two rooms. With his arms wrapped across his chest he leaned against the entrance to Dean's room. The man sat in bed, reading glasses on, a thick paperback in his hands.
"I didn't know you wore glasses." Cas smiled. Dean was handsome by any standards, but with the glasses on he was downright breathtaking. A little slice of nerd in the hot lumberjack look was an unexpected surprise.
"Only for reading, or when I'm working on architectural plans." Dean smiled and took the thin metal rimmed glasses off, setting them on the bedside table with his book.
Castiel dropped his eyes "This is weird, right? I should just go to my room like any other night. Me sleeping in here again would be weird."
"Well, in fairness, everything about you is a little weird." Dean smiled.
"Okay, goodnight," Castiel pushed off the doorframe and uncrossed his arms.
"Wait," Dean called, sitting up, and crossing his legs. "Why is it weird? I mean, we've been dancing around each other for two months. You seem to want to sleep in here, and I want you to. I… I like it when you sleep here. There doesn't have to be any sexy-sexy pressure. We can just sleep."
Castiel shuffled cutely for a moment and kept his eyes on the ground. "Okay, I just… you're entitled to some personal space."
"I have what I need." Dean shrugged.
Cas stepped forward hesitantly and sat on the edge of what had quickly become his side of the bed and looked over at the man next to him. "This is frightening for me." He admitted
"Why?" Dean placed a hand on his arm, his thumbs lightly rubbing his skin.
"The first night I was in here was after a date, it was… passionate, and last night was sweet-you took such good care of me. But this feels different. To be here just because I want to be close to you. I feel exposed."
"I mean, we could make it passionate," Dean waggled his eyebrows and earned himself a chuckle.
"As appealing as that idea is. I feel like we should still take that part of things slow." Cas admitted looking at the careworn quilt covering Dean's bed. "And I'm worried you will be unhappy about that as well."
"I already told you I don't mind." Dean leaned down to catch Castiel's eyes. "I've had plenty of sex in my life, more than plenty. What I want right now is you, we'll get there." He shrugged as if the topic they were discussing wasn't the most earth shattering idea in Castiel's entire life.
"More than plenty, huh?" Castiel asked, giving Dean a playful side eye.
"More than enough to know it's worth taking the time until the other person is ready and can be 100% there with you."
"Oh," Cas blushed slightly, his hands picking at a stray thread.
"Don't pick apart Nana Singer's quilt," Dean scolded before turning off his bedside light and snuggling under the covers. "Come on, climb in." He held the sheets back and waited, quietly, confidently, without any fear, or so it looked to Castiel.
A deep breath in and Cas slid under the covers, settling on his side so he could look at Dean. His eyes raked over his face, memorizing everything about him so he could replay these moments in his mind for eternity. "I have enjoyed sleeping in here."
"That's just because my mattress is awesome. Memory foam."
Castiel chuckled, "Yes, that and the humm of Garth snoring."
The giant dog was settled in his bed in the living room but Dean left the door open and the sound carried.
"Good night, Cas." Dean smiled in the moonlight, his hair sparking with blonde.
"Good night, Dean."
Castiel rolled over, facing the wall, but Dean wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him close, snuggling close against his back. He felt as Dean nuzzled the hair at the back of his neck and took a deep inhale. "I could get used to this," he whispered and placed a kiss on Castiel's shoulder blade before wrapping his arm up around Cas's chest and exhaling with a happy murmur.
Castiel stayed up for a while, feeling the warmth of Dean against his back and the slow droop of the heavy weight of his arm as he fell asleep. It hung loose around his middle and Dean's feet had worked their way between Cas's, like holding hands. He listened to Dean's deep breath and watched the moonlight dance against the wall thinking about what life in an Alternate Universe might be like. One where his mere existence hadn't damned him. One where he didn't have to be afraid, and where Dean didn't have to be so worried he was going to hurt him.
He hated that look in Dean's eyes, like he's expecting the next disaster at any moment, like he's expecting the sky to fall. He wondered if that was a look Dean ever held before meeting him. Castiel was sure that his presence in Dean's life wasn't the great thing the man snuggled up behind him seemed to think, but that he was bringing chaos and danger. He'd been away from home for too long. He'd started to believe he deserved something like this. But soon, he'd have to go back, and he couldn't see anyway out of it. For now at least, he had Hannah, but she couldn't take care of his life forever. He'd have to leave Dean and go back.
But Dean knew that. He knew he's scheduled to leave in September. He knew it and still wanted this time with him. So why ruin things now? This would end, and he'd be alone, but at least he'd know this had existed, that he had been warm for that least a short time in his life..
Castiel tried to settle his mind, slow his thoughts, and focus on the scratch of stubble against his shoulder blade. Maybe wanting this wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Maybe someday, when it was safe, he could come back and Dean would understand. He imagined that future, with warmth and light and a treehouse built by Dean and fell asleep.
The next morning Castiel woke under the suffocating weight of a Deanopus. Somehow, the larger man had managed to wedge one arm underneath him and wrap the other across his waist, pulling him into an awkward position on his back. Dean's head rested firmly on his shoulder, tilted up so his breath fluttered hot against Cas's neck. Their legs were so intertwined Cas wasn't sure whose were on top or where they twisted together. And somehow, this uncomfortable, impossible position, woke him in the best mood he thought he'd ever experienced.
"Dean," he whispered, trying to wiggle the fingers of the arm trapped beneath Dean's torso. "Dean," he said again, using his one free hand to paint the contours of the other man's face.
"'M warm," Dean mumbled.
"Yeah, because it's july, you refuse to turn on the air conditioning, and you're using me like a personal heater." Castiel's voice was quiet so as not to startle him awake, soft and amused. He felt the rumble in his chest as he whispered more encouraging words to get Dean to wake up and release him from his strong hold.
"Oh, hey, sorry man," Dean said, wiping the drool from his chin. Then looking horrified as he wiped at Castiel's shoulder.
"I hope you slept well," Cas raised an eyebrow, causing Dean to sit up and curl his legs under him. "No, don't go. I didn't mean to tease."
He pulled at Dean's arm, earning a defiant little pout, before he succumbed to the plea and lay back down next to Cas.
Castiel wound his arms around Dean's neck and gave him a soft peck on the lips, smiling into those impossible eyes. "It's just hard to wake you with a kiss when you have all my appendages pinned."
"I'm not sleeping beauty."
"The depth of your snoring would disagree."
"I do not!" Dean protested. "That was Garth."
At the sound of his name, the sleepy Giant stretched and groaned in the living room before plodding in to make sure Dean remembered to let him out with a boop.
"Stay here," Dean commanded, getting up and stretching in his pajama pants. He let Garth out the front door, leaving it open to fresh air and so the mut could make his way back in when he was ready, and poured two mugs of coffee from the coffee maker he'd set on a timer.
"Ugh, you might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Castiel sighed, reaching for his mug with wiggling fingers.
Dean preened for a moment before Cas raised an eyebrow at him. "I meant the coffee."
"Dude, that was brutal!"
They laughed and settled back in bed, spending a lazy morning just talking and snuggling. Garth eventually came in and laid on the floor on Castiel's side of the bed, occasionally peeking his head up over the mattress to beg for ear scratches.
When Castiel finally dragged himself away to go to the church office he was met by a scowling Michael.
"Good Morning," Castiel greeted him, his standard issue church smile on his face. He felt relaxed, ready to start the week, and excited about his sermon this Sunday. He'd made good headway on it and itched to sit down and start hashing it out.
"We have some things to discuss," Michael frowned and led the way to his office.
Castiel could feel the tension rolling off him, gripping him by the nervous system and electrocuting him from the inside. In his time here so far, Michael had wanted relatively little to do with him. Letting him run programs Michael took credit for and do his research uninhibited. Despite his desperate hopes to the contrary, he was sure this had something to do with his sexuality, Had Duma felt the need to confide in her minister. It would certainly be within her right, he hadn't asked her to keep it a secret, but somehow it felt like a betrayal.
Michael did not give Castiel any feelings of safety. Quite the opposite. He made him feel the same foreboding about church he did at home, a feeling he was dedicating his life to removing.
In his office, Michael sat down and handed over a file labeled "Mary's House."
Castiel took it, quirked his head, and thumbed through the grand and fund use proposal, taking special note of the flagged items. As he read, his spirits soared, everything looked perfect, just how he'd wanted it. A caveat that the home would be single sex to begin with until proper seperation could be set up seemed conservative but within reason.
And then he saw it.
"Mary's House will not service members of the self-proclaimed LGTBQ community for fear of harboring and supporting their perversions. The threat of this influence on other house members and the church community at large is too great to allow."
Castiel set the file down and looked at Michael, the man's smug face becoming uglier by the second in his eyes.
"This is what the board approved?" Castiel asked.
"The board doesn't approve church programs, they approved the funding match in the budget, the rest is left to ministerial discretion." Michael leaned back in his chair and stared hard at Castiel.
"You can't be serious."
"Those whose choices go against the church's teachings will not be housed under its roof."
"Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." Castiel fisted his hands. A lifetime of repression and self-hatred surging to the forefront of his mind. He had dedicated himself to not allowing this to happen to anyone else and now the church he had come to love as his own was going to mandate bigotry?
"Do not quote scripture to me, Castiel." Michael sneered. "You take what you want to hear and twist it to your will. God has a plan and our obedience to his plan is faith in action."
Obedience. The line thrown in his face over and over. That he needed to obey, to submit. That it was God's will. But now he knew better, now he'd studied and searched and prayed and received revelation of his own. Eve's sin wasn't that she didn't obey. Eve's sin wasn't even a sin, it was a choice. The very thing that god had given humans to separate them from the angels. Eve flexed her free will and accepted the consequences. Castiel had no interest in blindly obeying, he'd rather take on Eve's mantle and search for truth.
"I will quote scripture anytime it seems someone has forgotten the meaning of the Word. There is no need for this caveat. It only serves to put the most vulnerable amongst us further into harm's way."
Michael's face hardened. His dark skin redening and his eyes hard. "There would be no risk were they to repent their sin and conform to God's law. This project of yours will not become a modern Sodom and Gomorrah."
Castiel stood and placed the file on the desk calmly, refusing to betray the tempest blowing within his heart. "Interesting you should use that example, since Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed for lacking hospitality to angels in the guise of strangers, not for anything to do with sexuality. I suggest you consider learning more about the bible you claim to uphold. I'll be taking this to the board."
"That's fine," Michael placed his finger tips together in a triangle over his desk. "They meet again in October. You're welcome to make your position heard then, in person. That won't be a problem for your schedule, will it?" Michael sneered smugly.
"Is this personal?" Cas asked, placing his hands on the back of his chair to keep them from shaking. "Are you doing this to my project because I'm gay?"
Michael raised a slow eyebrow. "Are you, now?"
Castiel's heart pounded in his chest. Anger and fear mixed together, his words tumbling from his lips without caution. It was like now that he had tasted freedom there seemed to be no limit to what he could achieve. "It's not a secret, and there's nothing in the arrangement you have with the school stating that you don't accept homosexual interns, probably because that would border on illegal, but none-the-less my question stands. Is this some kind of misguided retaliation? It's childish. We are men of God, we should be above this."
Michael's face turned dark, his brown eyes stormy. "I am a man of God. You are an abomination."
Castiel scowled, hardened his jaw, and narrowed his eyes. "Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the Lord; be assured, he will not go unpunished."
"Get out," Michael rose from his seat in a fluid motion. "That's enough of this nonsense. You're fired. I'll contact the seminary this afternoon and let them know your position has been revoked."
"You can't! My sermon is this Sunday." Castiel hated the whine in his voice, but he hadn't expected this, he'd allowed himself to be blinded by his own pride.
"Consider it cancelled. Go back to your den of iniquity with Dean Winchester and the other perverts of this town. You're done at this church." Michael picked up the Mary's House folder and tucked it under his arm.
Castiel gripped the chairback hard enough for the wood to make a cracking sound before turning and storming out.
Outside he climbed in his truck. His breath came in fast sharp inhales and he felt like he couldn't get enough. Spots flashed in front of his eyes and he wanted to throw-up or laydown in the middle of the road and just wait for someone to flatten his body the same way Michael had crushed his heart.
And then, he took a deep breath and with shaking hands punched out a text to Dean: What's Sam's number? I need his help.