After work, and thankfully getting off early, Dean went straight home, even though he was running low on gas, he wasn't going to be bothered by it at the moment. He parked the Impala and slammed the door shut, in a rush to get to the front door. He had his mind set on a check list consisting of things he needed to do before Cas came over, the one thing being at the top of his list was taking a shower.
For the next half hour after his shower, Dean ran from room to room, straightening things up, throwing away miscellaneous trash, and all around trying to make the house look presentable. He knew Cas came from money, and knew his house was shabby compared to his mansion in downtown New Haven, but he was hoping Castiel wasn't going to be comparing. He didn't seem like the type.
After deeming the house clean, he went to the fridge and was surprised at the amount that Pamela brought over for them. There was plenty of food to make a small platter for them to snack from. He picked out some celery to clean and cut into smaller portions, some cubed cheese. He hoped Cas liked Game Day horderves, because that's all he knew how to make.
Castiel was on his way to get a drink to bring to Dean's home. He was taught that that was the polite thing to do. Then he started to wonder what kind of drink Dean would enjoy. He pulled up to the liquor store, a little uncertain, but he figured that he'd find something nice.
Once inside, he began to look for the specific kind of drinks, Whiskey and Vodka and the like. But he was abruptly stopped by an older gentleman, maybe in his thirties, who came up to him, "Hello sir, is there anything I can help you with today?" he asked, a smile on his face.
Castiel was going to politely decline his help, like he usually did to any eager store clerk, but then he realized that he actually did need help this time around. "Uh, yes, actually. I'm looking for a drink for a friend, but I'm not sure what exactly I should get him." He told the man.
"Well, do you know what he normally drinks?" he asked, his head inclining at a tilt.
"Uh…Beer?" he told him, realizing that he's only ever seen him drink one thing.
The clerk gave a chuckle, "Does he seem like the type of guy who drinks hard drinks, like Whiskey?" he asked, walking them in the direction of what he assumed where his whiskey selection.
"You know what, he does." He told the man, following along beside him.
"Well our top brands of course are here…" he pointed out the most expensive brands they had, which he had a feeling Dean could not afford, which meant he didn't drink much of, "And we've got our other brands right down here." He told Castiel, pointing out the more affordable brands, ones that he was sure Dean would buy.
"Alright, thank you very much." He told the clerk, who gave a nod, "No problem." And went back to the register.
Castiel pondered for a moment, not entirely sure which was the best. Eventually, though, he picked one out and took it up to the counter to pay for. He grinned to himself, knowing that he'd more than likely surprise Dean with the gift.
As he climbed back into his SUV, he thought that now was an appropriate time to head over to Dean's house, so he plugged the address into his GPS, and looked over the directions. It was then that he realized how nervous he actually was. But it was an excited nervousness, not necessarily a scared nervous. His smile was broad and growing broader. He put the key in the ignition and started his car.
Dean was trying to figure out what shirt he wanted to wear, wanting either his deep red, long sleeve, button down v-neck, or his simple AC/DC shirt. He made a face at the later, and went with the V-neck. He slipped it on, then went to his mirror to make sure he hadn't messed up his hair. His hands hovered over his scalp, as if holding it in a mold, slipping over some strands that left the lift shape he had achieved. Once he was satisfied, he went back into his bathroom, and made sure to spray on his nicest cologne. He didn't want to smell cheap to Cas.
He then gave himself a look in the mirror, then decided to push the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow, exposing his muscled forearms. He gave himself a smirk in the mirror, then headed out of his room, back downstairs.
Sam sat with Michael, in his office, patiently waiting as Michael typed away on his keyboard. He'd told him he was emailing a friend of his that worked for the background checking system and was in the process of getting Sam's pushed through more quickly.
"Alright. We'll be waiting for a reply, and if she sees it as soon as I've sent it, we should be getting that reply in the next few minutes." He told Sam, leaning back in his chair. "And if you do start working today, but we can't get it through, what you make will be tacked onto your first paycheck when you eventually are pushed through." He told him.
"Wow, that sounds great." Sam told Michael. He then looked down at his attire of a button down and jeans, "I hope I'm dressed appropriately."
"Oh, you're fine. In fact, you can wear that every day, if you want." He told Sam without even looking at him, his eyes still on his monitor. "I think I've seen Frank wear less than appropriate attire." He mumbled offhandedly.
Sam chuckled, leaning back in his seat, "So how are things going at your place?" he asked, purely conversationally.
Michael froze in his tracks, and it felt like his heart stopped for a moment. He sighed, his chest rising and falling dramatically. "Actually, we woke up this morning and our Dad was going through his first hallucinations." He told Sam without looking at him. "Gabriel and Lucifer took it pretty badly. I think Castiel left altogether." His brows furrowed, "I'm not sure where he's at, now." He shook his head, "I should probably call him." He mumbled as he went for his phone.
Sam's eyes were wide, "Oh my God, that sounds terrible." He told Michael. "Was it really bad?" he asked.
Michael nodded, "The nurse said he was asking about our mother, but she's been gone for years." He told Sam, shaking his head again, dialing Castiel's number. "She says that it might get worse throughout the day." He included, holding his phone up to his ear.
Sam nodded, and saw that he was about to have a conversation, so he stayed quiet. He hoped Castiel wasn't up to anything rash. He knew how badly it could hurt knowing there was nothing you could do.
Michael stood from his chair, listening as the phone gave dull rings, trying to connect, and he stared out his window, looking down at the town. Finally Castiel answered his phone.
"Hello?" Castiel answered.
"Hey, I was just calling to see where you were." Michael spoke, setting one hand in his pocket, looking in parking lots and at buildings, as if he could spot his brother out in the town.
Castiel gave a small chuckle, which made Michael a little confused, "I'm actually on my way to Dean Winchester's house." He told his older brother.
"Uhh…" Michael turned around and looked to Sam, who gave him a look as if asking what had he done. "I'm sitting here with Sam right now, and he didn't tell me you were coming over there."
Sam's brows furrowed, "What?" he mumbled.
"Well..." Castiel paused for a moment in his explanation, "I could have sworn I told one of you." Michael rolled his eyes. Sure, Castiel. "And I don't know why Dean didn't tell Sam." He told his brother.
Michael's brows lifted, "Ohhh…" he then grinned, "I see what's going on." He then gave Sam a knowing smile. "I think I'll let you get back to it. I'll check in on you later." He told Castiel before hanging up.
Sam spoke up, "What was that about?" he asked.
"I think Dean and Castiel set up a little meeting without our knowledge." He told Sam, taking a seat back at his desk, a broad smile on his lips.
Sam began to chuckle, "Oh my God. I realize now why Dean wanted to get off early from work today." he told Michael, leaning back in his chair. Now all the little things Dean had been doing added up. He guessed he wanted to get off early to spruce up the house, which was a far fetched notion itself.
To that, Michael began to chuckle, and neither of them began to speculate. They kept their opinions to themselves, but simply hoped for the best.
Back at the house, Dean made sure his outfit looked nice in the hall mirror, running his fingers through his hair a few times. Once he deemed himself appropriate he went into the living room and sat in the large arm chair. At first he sat with his elbows on his knees, but then thought about leaning back, spreading his legs a bit.
He then shook his head, dismissing the thought of positioning himself when he'd need to get up to answer the door anyway.
Just as he thought about texting Cas to see if he were lost, he heard a car pull up into the driveway. His chest fluttered excitedly, and even though he had just told himself he was going to be waiting until Castiel knocked on the door to answer it, he stood and went for the door anyway, opening it to welcome Castiel in.
Castiel was just getting out of his SUV, and Dean was a little surprised to see him driving such a big car. "Hey, Cas! Nice 'Benz." he complemented. Dean could see, even from the distance he had from it, that Castiel drove a black 2012 Mercedes-Benz GL class.
Castiel, not having been expecting the complement, was confused at first, "What?" he asked, then looked back at his car, "Oh right." he then looked back to Dean, "Yes, it's quite nice." he muttered, not sure what else he could say about his car. As he came up to Dean's front door, he noticed that Dean was grinning at him, as if to say I know something you don't know.
"You're not much of a car guy, are you?" he asked, though Castiel was sure Dean already knew the answer.
Castiel sighed, grinning, "No, not really. I had to get Lucifer to help me pick it out." he told Dean, defeated.
Dean only chuckled, "I thought so." he then patted Castiel on the shoulder, simultaneously leading him inside with a broad arm.
Once inside, Castiel immediately began eying the inside of the house. There were many chips in the paint on the outside of Dean's two story ranch style home. It's green with white trim were faded, yet it was part of the house's beauty. Inside, he could see that some of his furniture was old, but it had been maintained well. Surprisingly, the house seemed to be well kept in general. Things were put away neatly, blankets were folded in a wicker basket by the end of the couch, and decorative pillows were in their proper place on the furniture. Though, as they kept walking inside, there was something missing, something that Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on.
"So..." Dean prompted once in the middle of the living room, he turned to Castiel, "How'ya like it?" he asked, grinning.
Castiel gave a smile back, "It's nice, Dean." he then made his way through the living room and into the kitchen, further inspecting. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about the kitchen, though what really surprised Castiel was the lack of fridge magnets, or simple notes. He gave a squinted eyed look at it, but quickly moved on to something else. "This kitchen is very spacious." he commented. There was a breakfast nook that jutted out from the house, and created a 'U' shaped bench. Castiel became quite taken with the feature, and took a seat at the outer edge closest to him. "I like this table." he tacked on, rubbing his hands over it.
Dean chuckled, "It was an addition a couple years back. Added a lot of value to the house." he told Castiel, then went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, "You want anything?" he asked, though he was certain Castiel would decline. What he wasn't expecting, though, was for Castiel to pull out a paper bag, seemingly from no where and set it on the table. "What's that?" Dean asked, perplexed. He came back over to the table, then, to inspect.
Castiel's smile was broad, "Well, I wanted to thank you for inviting me to your home." he then held the bag up for Dean, from the bottom.
Dean raised a brow, "You didn't have to do that, Cas." he told him before taking up the bag. He then pulled down one side of the paper, "Woodford Reserve." Both Dean's brows rose, "Impressive." he smirked at Castiel, then tore the bottle out of the paper bag, "Did Lucifer help you pick this out, too?" he joked, going for the cabinet to pour himself a small taste.
Castiel looked to the table, grinning embarrassed. "No. But the clerk at the liquor store did give me some pointers." he told him.
Dean chuckled, "I think that's what we'll do. I'll teach you about cars and drinks and you'll show me how to be classy." he told Castiel from over his shoulder as he cracked the seal on the whiskey.
Castiel laughed, "I think that's a fair trade." he mumbled, then stood up from the table. By that time, Dean had poured himself a few sips worth of the drink into a crystal clear glass. "Is it alright if I look at the rest of the house?" he asked, not wanting to go where he wasn't allowed.
"Of course." Dean gestured with his glass onward, following behind Castiel. So they both went to each nook and cranny of the house, "A lot of these boxes laying around are mine." Dean explained, pointing them out as they went. "I'm not completely unpacked yet." he told Castiel.
"So are you going to be living here from now on?" he asked Dean, heading towards a hall they hadn't gone down.
"I'm not sure what I'll do about this house." he looked at the walls, as if looking for the answers there. "This is my permanent residence, but I don't know if I want to be stuck here forever." he told Castiel, leaving out the part about the mountain of debt that came along with the house. Then when Dean noticed which door Castiel was headed to, which knob he was about to twist open, reflexively, he grabbed him by the forearm, stopping him completely.
It was such an abrupt stop, and it was such a hard grip that Dean had on his arm that Castiel gave a small gasp, quickly looking to Dean.
"Sorry." Dean let go of Castiel's arm, now feeling embarrassed about his terse action, "This is my Dad's room." he mumbled without looking up at Castiel. He'd only been in his dad's room one other time after he'd officially gone missing, and that was to look for some sort of clue as to where he might be. While Sam was down for that whole week, he'd been in and out with no problem, mostly to put away stacks of books or bullshit propaganda pamphlets.
Dean didn't want to go back into his room, not for a single thing.
"I'm sorry, Dean." he told him, turning away from the door. "If I had known-" "You didn't know." Dean interrupted, shaking his head, "I should've said something before we got this far." he told him. He then gave Castiel a pat on the back, "Let's forget it, okay?" he smiled to Castiel, hoping that this issue would just die down.
Castiel nodded, then headed away from the door, "I'll set up my laptop in the living room." he told him. Dean watched as he walked on ahead of him, leaving him there in the dark hallway. For a moment, Dean looked back at the door to his father's room. He then reached out, as if to open it, his fingers just barely grazing the metal door knob. But his hand fell away, back to his side a moment later. He didn't want to tackle that today. He was going to sit down and hang out with Castiel. They were going to have a good time, and today was going to be a good day.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the feeling he had, and made his way to the living room, taking a sip from his whiskey. Slowly, the alcohol was easing his mind, and he was sure the rest of their night would go smoothly.
Back in the living room, Castiel pulled his laptop out of its carrier and set it on the coffee table, opening it and powering it up. It was a few years older, therefore a less superior model than the newer ones, so it took a short while for it to boot up completely. Balthazar kept heckling him to get a new one, but Castiel simply did not see the need to. He had everything he needed on it, no more, no less. There was seldom a time that he even used his laptop for anything other than work, or his writing.
Once it was completely awake he made sure there weren't any web pages up about his work, or anything to distract himself. He wasn't going to think about work for a little while. He just wanted to impress Dean with his writing skills.
Just then, Dean comes into the living room as well, and takes a seat in the big arm chair with a sigh. His whiskey is almost completely depleted, but he wasn't in a rush to refill it. "So, what do you got to show me?" he asked with a grin.
Castiel chuckled, "Well I was just going to let you go through my files and just choose at random." he told Dean, hoisting his laptop up on to his knees.
"Really? You don't want to show me your very best?" he joked, then got up out of his chair to take a seat next to Castiel on the couch.
Dean moving closer to him, and in such a casual manner, made Castiel's smile grow wider, then he looked back down at his screen to try and hide it, "Well, I wanted you to go through and decide for yourself which one you thought was the best." he explained, "I didn't want my bias to impede on your judgment."
Dean's brows rose, "That's a smart move." he complemented. He then slid the laptop from Castiel's knees to his own. He then laughed when he saw his desktop, "Oh my God, why is the Great American Hero your background?"
Castiel was slightly offended, "What? I liked that show." he told him, having not been expecting to be made fun of for it.
Dean shook his head, "Yea, okay." then went to looking at the various folders he had on his desktop. One was marked Finished, another marked Unfinished, and another marked Haikus. His brow furrowed, "Why are the haikus by themselves in a separate folder?" he asked, looking to Castiel.
Castiel made a face, "I would prefer it if you didn't look into the haikus, actually."
"Why?" Dean asked, persistent.
Castiel frowned, "They're not my best work."
Dean gave a smirk, "I think I'll be the judge of that." and then double clicked the folder marked Haikus, and went through the short list of titles. He decided on the one named 'Foreshadow'. "Let's see here." he mumbled, then read:
What we will know is
What we've already been shown
That is foreshadow.
Dean frowned, "Yea, I'm not so sure about this."
"I want to delete the whole folder." Castiel groaned, his face in his hands.