My 190-Pound Life

by crazyassCas

12 years ago, Dean underwent a life-changing surgery that completely turned his life around. He's stuck to the lifestyle changes, and he never thought he'd get this far. When he meets Cas, a chubby stoner in his mid-twenties, everything is perfect. But when Cas' lifestyle choices threaten everything Dean's worked so hard to achieve, he's faced with a difficult decision. Rating: MA

3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know this update has taken a long time, and I'm SO sorry for that. But I've gotten awesome feedback on ao3 so I decided to add more and make this story longer, so it's taken me longer than I anticipated. (And I have so much crap going on in real life right now, lol.) I also get really bad anxiety about posting anything new EVER, so any time a new chapter is ready I sit on it for a few days freaking out, lol.

Anyway this chapter is pretty fucked up. It gets pretty real, I'm warning you now.

the anxiety about posting this is still real so please let me know if you didn't hate it xD

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of past non-con (not between dean and cas)

---

Dean knew he would feel horrible, but he had no idea how horrible. He was pretty sure he actually felt worse than when Lisa had dumped him- and this time he was the one doing the dumping! He hated thinking of it that way, too. Dumping Cas. It sounded so... wrong. He wanted to think of it more as setting Cas free, so he could be with someone who he didn't have to change himself for.

But as he replayed the conversation in the parking lot in his head, it didn't seem that way at all.

He'd stumbled through a generic, bullshit excuse and Cas hadn't bought it at all. He was upset. He was angry. And although Dean really, really hoped he wouldn't- he was probably taking it personally. Is there even any other way to take a break-up? Even to this day he was pretty sure it was his fault Lisa had ended it. There wasn't someone else, they didn't argue over anything- it was just who he was as a person. They didn't fit. And while it wasn't his fault, it had sure felt that way.

He hated that he was allowing Cas to feel the same way, but he just couldn't tell him the real reason. He couldn't. And Cas was a better person than him, anyway. He'd bounce back quickly and find someone fun his own age and wonder what he'd ever seen in Dean in the first place... right?

---

Cas didn't have to be at work until nine the next morning, but he set his alarm for five-thirty. He was definitely not a morning person, so when the alarm began blaring from his nightstand, he had to force himself to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the mattress. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, ignoring the ache behind them and the pounding under his skull, he reached forward and popped the door to Roger's cage open.

He interacted with Roger for a little while before leaving him to explore alone as Cas got dressed. When he heard his mom get up at six-thirty and start the shower, he put him back and put some fresh food in his bowl. Cracking his door open and poking his head out, he could see that the hallway was empty. He tiptoed over the carpet and through the living room, and once he closed the front door behind him, he darted to his car, yanking the door open and practically falling in. He jammed the key into the ignition, threw it in reverse, and was gone before his parents were any the wiser.

He knew he couldn't avoid the confrontation forever- it was a miracle that he'd gotten out of it the night before. Part of him wished it was because his mother had known how upset he really was, but he knew that wasn't true. Gay sex was nothing but lustful to her; two men couldn't be in love. In reality, she probably just hadn't thought of enough fucked up things to say to him yet. Or, and this was more likely, she was simply enjoying making Cas squirm as he waited for the explosion.

With a sigh, he reached across the car to grab his pack of cigarettes off of the seat. He lit one and inhaled deeply, savoring the taste after going all night without a cigarette, before reaching down to turn on the radio. I Wanna Know What Love Is began playing, and Cas muttered, "Of course," before smacking his turn signal with a little too much force and taking a quick right.

He ended up at the local park. He still had two hours to kill before work, so he figured finding a deserted spot and getting stoned would be a good way to pass the time. It was also conveniently located five minutes from a McDonald's, and since he'd skipped breakfast and was about to smoke, he was definitely going to need to eat before work.

Work dragged on. On his breaks, he found himself constantly wanting to text Dean as he usually did. Kevin cornered him in the breakroom when he clocked out at four, asking him if he was alright.

"Fine," Cas answered quickly. "Just got into an argument with my mom this morning."

Kevin nodded, still watching him suspiciously, but Cas wasn't ready to say anything yet. That was one of the worst parts of a break-up- telling your friends and being showered with sympathy and "fuck him"s, and Cas really didn't want to deal with any of it. He just wanted to forget about it. He said goodbye before making a hasty retreat out of the building and to his car, where he rolled a joint and smoked it on the drive back home. He was dreading seeing his parents, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

They were nowhere to be seen when he walked in, so he went straight to his room and closed the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stripped out of his work clothes and grabbed his towel off of the back of his door. He wrapped it around his waist and opened his door again, only to be face-to-face with Naomi.

Her eyes trailed down his body to the towel, and back up to his face again, and Cas could just feel the disgust in her gaze. He averted his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it.

"Dinner's at six," she said sharply.

"Okay," he mumbled. She turned and left, disappearing around the corner into the living room. Cas trudged into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He hung his towel on the hook and started the water, trying not to think about the way she'd looked at him. He hated when she looked at him that way- like he was a complete and utter disappointment. It made him feel so small and insignificant; the complete opposite of the way Dean looked at him.

He closed his eyes and chastised himself for thinking about Dean. That ship had sailed- it was time to move on.

When he sat down at the dinner table, there was an odd silence settled over the room. He wasn't stupid; it was the calm before the storm and he knew it. So he kept his head down and didn't say a word as his mom fixed his plate. She'd stopped letting him fix his own years ago, claiming he "took too much". Cas wasn't sure how that was possible, considering it was always disgusting and he'd wanted to eat as little of her cooking as possible, but it was easier to just let her have her way.

He'd only choked down three bites of the mystery meat she'd prepared before she cleared her throat. Bart didn't even look up, but Cas did, and she was staring straight at him.

"Castiel."

"...Yes?"

"We need to talk."

He swallowed down what he was pretty sure was very dry meatloaf. "...Okay."

"How long had you been seeing this man?"

Cas looked away. "...Three months."

"Why do you continuously go behind our backs like this? I thought we took care of this!"

He had to choose his next words carefully. "I'm not going behind your back." He raised his eyes to look at her. "You know I'm gay, yet you keep trying to force me to be straight. It's not going to work. It's never going to work."

"Never say never," she said quickly. "You just need to be shown the light."

Cas had to fight to not roll his eyes. Instead he blinked and clenched his jaw. "Why can't you just drop it?"

"Because it's sinful Castiel!" she screeched, causing Cas to flinch at the sudden noise. His father seemed entirely unaffected. "Don't you understand I'm worried about your soul in the afterlife? Do you want to go to Hell?!"

He was pretty sure he was already living in it. "I really don't care," he responded. He struggled to keep his voice even, so it came out flat and strained.

"Do you hear this?" she exclaimed, waving her arm at Cas and looking at Bart. She turned back to Cas, not even realizing that Bart didn't acknowledge her. "You need Jesus, Castiel. Why on Earth the church banned you when you need them now more than ever is beyond me. Oh, right, because they gave you years to change and you refused. You refused to repent and ask for forgiveness."

"Because I haven't done anything wrong!" he yelled, more defensive than he intended.

"Lies! It's wrong and you know it!"

"I don't care!" he shouted back.

She produced a brochure seemingly out of nowhere, slamming it down on the table so hard that the silverware shook. "You're going to go see this doctor."

Cas' eyes widened. "...What?"

She didn't answer, instead holding eye contact with Cas until he broke it to look down at the brochure. A smiling man and woman held hands on the front, and underneath in large blue letters it read: "Reparative Therapy with Dr. Adler - Helping Individuals Return to Normalcy and Godliness"

Cas looked up at her again. "...You can't make me do that again. It- it didn't work."

"This is a different doctor," she said coolly. "He has a much better success rate." She paused, her mouth twisting into a frown. "The other one was obviously too dense to realize that you were just telling him what he wanted to hear for a year."

Cas swallowed. "I... I'm not going," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I'm not going," he said louder.

Naomi actually barked a laugh. "Yes you are, or you can pack your things and leave. Right now."

He considered it for a moment. He wanted to so, so badly. But he could only live in his car for a few more months until it got too cold and- wait, what was he thinking? He couldn't live in his car at all; he had Roger. He lowered his eyes to his plate. "Fine. I'll go."

Even though he was looking down, he knew there was a smug smile on her face as she said, "Good. Your first appointment is next week." She paused. "And I expect you to behave."

---

The first appointment came sooner than Cas expected. The waiting room was pretty standard (read: boring); rows of chairs, some religious magazines on the tables, a few paintings of angels, and one potted plant. Cas sat slouched back in a chair by the door, arms crossed and staring across the room at a painting of Michael on the opposite wall until his name was called.

"Castiel?"

Cas turned his head to see a balding older man standing in the entryway to the hallway, hands clasped and hanging limply in front of him. He offered Cas a tight smile. Cas frowned and stood up, crossing the room and following him down the hallway.

"Very nice name," he said, gesturing towards a door and stepping to the side. "Biblical."

Cas didn't respond as he walked past him and into the room. The man followed him, shutting the door behind him.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards an ugly brown couch. He lowered himself into a rolling chair, crossing one leg over the other and wrapping his hands around them.

"My name is Zachariah," he said. "How are you feeling today, Castiel?"

"Fine," Cas answered.

"No... inappropriate desires today?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you asking if I find you attractive?" Cas asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

"Excuse me?"

He remembered his mother's words the week before: "I expect you to behave." Behaving wasn't really his forte, though. "Because if I'm being honest, I don't, but I could use a sugar daddy. And you probably make good money here- charging so much money to people desperate to change the unchangeable. It's the perfect scam."

Zachariah stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking into a smile and shaking his head. "Your mother said you were feisty!" he chucked before meeting Cas' eyes. "That's okay though. I like a challenge."

Cas raised one eyebrow. "You're not helping your case," he stated, crossing his arms. "...And I highly doubt my mother described me as feisty."

Zachariah just kept giving him that same smile, which was starting to creep Cas out. "You're right. The word she used was difficult." He blinked and shook his head slowly. "Anyway, you know that's not what I was asking, Castiel. And your condition isn't unchangeable."

"It's not a condition," Cas muttered. Zachariah held his hands up in a placating gesture. "And it's Cas."

"Okay, Cas. Can I ask you some questions so I can maybe understand you a little better?"

"I suppose."

He reached over to his left and grabbed a clipboard from his desk, setting it on his lap. Pulling a pen out of his pocket, he clicked it and poised it to the paper. "When did you first experience attraction to the same gender?"

Cas crossed his arms, slumping back slightly into the couch. "When I was seven."

"Seven?" he repeated, shooting skeptical glances as he scribbled on the paper.

"Yes."

"And how did you know?"

"Because I had a crush on a kid in my class," he answered simply.

"And?"

"And what? I kept it to myself. I was eight, not stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"I know what you're trying to say. If I thought it was so normal, why did I hide it. I hid it because I already knew how my family felt about it and how my church felt about it. Look, I've done this twice already."

"Can you tell me about the other times?"

Cas sighed. "The first time was a summer camp. Aversion therapy and gender reinforcement. Loads of fun." He paused and blinked slowly. "Second time was with some quack like you."

Zachariah didn't even look offended. "And you feel you got no benefit from either of those therapies?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well hopefully we can change that."

"I don't want to change it," Cas snapped.

Zachariah gave him a leveling look. "Cas, you do understand that you can get the same pleasure from the company of women, correct? There's no need to sin."

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. "I do not want to talk to you about my sex life. And women are disgusting." He paused. "No offense to them, of course, but... no. I'd rather be celibate."

"Now there's an idea," Zachariah said, leaning back in his chair. "You could become a priest. Atone for your sins."

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. This was not going to be fun.

He left forty-five minutes later, rightfully pissed off. He got into his car and slammed the door, rolling down the window with one hand as he lit a cigarette with the other. Taking a long drag, he told himself what he'd always told himself when he had to do this shit- just regard absolutely everything they say as bullshit. Although, while it was a nice concept, it was easier said than done.

xxx

That night, he was sitting on his bed on his laptop when his phone went off with a text from Gabe.

Gabe: yo

Gabe: where u at fucker

Cas: What

Gabe: what do you mean what

Gabe: i asked you a ?

Cas: I'm at my house, where else would I be?

Gabe: i mean lately. youve been MIA for like a week

Gabe: get off deans dick and come hang out

Cas: I am not on Dean's dick.

Gabe: so where u been?

Cas: Home being pathetic.

Gabe: ...wat happened

Cas: I don't want to talk about it.

Gabe: did ur mom say something stupid?

Cas: Nothing worse than usual, no.

Gabe: did something happen w dean?

Cas: I said I didn't want to talk about it.

Gabe: i fucking knew it

Gabe: what happened?

Gabe: i will kill that fucker

Cas: Just drop it.

Gabe: im not letting u sit home and rot in ur room

Gabe: get over here

Gabe: ive got booze

Gabe: come on cas

Gabe: ?

Cas: FINE. I'll be there in an hour. And I'm off tomorrow so if I get there and this "booze" is a 12-pack of light beer I'm going to knock you out.

Gabe: u rlly should kno me better than that by now

Gabe: but i get the hint, u wanna get drunk

Gabe: i promise i wont even draw dicks on ur face when u pass out tonite

Cas: How kind of you.

Cas hit the power button on his phone and sighed. At least going over to Gabe's would get him away from Naomi; getting drunk was just a bonus. He shut down his laptop and plugged his phone into the charger, then stood up and stripped out of his work clothes before putting Roger back in his cage so he could take a shower.

Once he was dressed, he went out into the living room. Bartholomew was in his recliner, watching the evening news, and he could hear his mom making noise in the kitchen. Without a word to his father, he crossed the living room to stand in the doorway to the kitchen.

Naomi had her back to him, stirring something on the stove. It smelled like whatever she was cooking in the oven was burning. He cleared his throat. "I'm going out for the night."

She turned around, eyeing him suspiciously. "Where?"

"Gabe's."

"Oh, good," she said, turning back around. "Maybe there will be some nice girls there."

"He's not having a party," Cas said flatly. "We're just going to play some video games."

"Oh," she said again, although she sounded somewhat disappointed. "Okay then. Are you off tomorrow?"

"Yes. So I'm not sure when I'll be home."

"You know I like to know when to expect you."

"Late afternoon, maybe? I don't know."

"Yep." It was short and cold, and as usual, Cas couldn't figure out what he'd done to warrant such a change of tone.

"Okay," he said, taking a step back into the living room. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait," she said quickly, turning around. "How did your appointment go?"

"Uh- great," Cas answered. Naomi narrowed her eyes at him, and Cas swallowed and lowered his eyes.

"Good," she said finally. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay." He turned and exited the kitchen. "Bye, dad," he said quickly on his way to the door, and he got a grunt in acknowledgment. As he closed the front door behind him, he leaned back against it and let out a deep sigh. He hated walking on eggshells in his own house, but his mom had been a nightmare in the week since she'd confronted him about seeing a man.

When he got to Gabe's, he stood on the doorstep, eyes on his shoes as he waited for him to answer the door.

"Cassie!"Gabe said loudly as he opened the door, stepping over the threshold and squeezing Cas in a tight hug. Cas just stood there, arms dangling limply at his sides, until Gabe let go. "Come in, come in," he said, taking a step back.

Cas stepped in the doorway and looked up, stopping short as Gabe closed the door behind him. Gabe's mother was sitting on the couch, watching a cooking show on the television mounted to the wall.

"Hello."

She turned around and smiled. "Hi, Cas. How are you?"

He mustered a smile. "Good, how are you?"

"I'm good, thank you." She turned back around just as the man on TV was putting what looked like some sort of roast into the oven. It looked better than anything his mom had ever made, and when Cas' eyes finally left the screen, Gabe was already ascending the stairs, so Cas hurried across the living room and followed him up to his room.

"What happened?" Gabe asked as he closed the door behind Cas. He made his way to his bed and flopped down on his back as Cas took a seat on the futon.

Cas shrugged. "I don't know. We broke up."

Gabe propped himself up on his elbows and raised one eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Cas fidgeted. "Well... he said he couldn't handle a relationship right now."

Gabe scoffed. "Sounds like a cop-out."

Cas frowned. "I know. He seemed sincere and I really want to believe him, but..." His shoulders sagged and he lowered his eyes, unable to look at Gabe. "He probably just didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, well..." Gabe grumbled, pushing himself off of the bed. "He did." He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off of the top of his dresser and stepped towards Cas, holding it out to him.

"Thanks," Cas mumbled, taking it from him and cracking it open. He took a large swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before stating, "You didn't tell me your parents were home."

Gabe shrugged. "Didn't think it mattered." He paused, watching Cas. "Why? Did you think I was having another party?"

Cas shrugged lightly, looking down at the bottle in his grip.

"I would've told you. Besides... getting fucked isn't the solution to your problem."

Cas squinted down at the label, picking at the corner with his thumb as his face burned. "I didn't say it was."

"Mhmm," Gabe hummed, reaching out and taking the bottle from Cas. He took a small gulp before handing it back. "But usually you don't want to party after a break-up, you want to drink alone, so..."

"I never said I was hoping you were having a party, Gabe, Jesus," Cas sighed, lifting his head and dropping it back against the back of the futon.

"Okay, okay," Gabe resigned, holding his hands up in surrender. He sat back down on the bed and pulled open the drawer to his night stand. He began packing a bowl on the surface as Cas took another swig of whiskey. "So... that's all he said?" he asked carefully, glancing over at Cas.

"Yes."

"So why can't you stay friends?"

Cas shrugged again, clearly trying to act like he wasn't bothered. "That's what I said."

Gabe frowned, turning his attention back to the bowl. "I dunno, man," he said, bringing it to his lips and lighting it. "But it sounds like bullshit," he finished, voice strained from holding in the hit. He exhaled, creating a large cloud of smoke that dissipated as it floated towards the ceiling. He reached forward and held the bowl out to Cas. "Here."

Cas lifted his head and set the bottle of whiskey down on the futon to take it from him. "I know," he agreed. "So all I can really do is just let it go, I guess."

"Easier said than done," Gabe said thoughtfully as Cas took his hit.

"Yep," Cas muttered, passing the bowl back to him. "I just..." He exhaled as he leaned back into the couch. "I'm tired of doing this, Gabe."

"You need to stop looking for the one, man. Just do your thing and it'll happen. You're trying too hard."

"I'm trying too hard?" Cas repeated in disbelief. "I didn't do shit! He asked me out."

Gabe sat up and shot him a leveling look. "So you're saying you thought Dean was the one."

"I just-" Cas cut himself off, looking down and crossing his arms over his chest. "What? No. Don't put words in my mouth. I'm just saying I'm tired of casual sex. I'm almost thirty for fuck's sake."

"Ugh, stop," Gabe muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious. We're not kids anymore. Seventeen was a decade ago." He paused, looking up and squinting off across the room. "Maybe that's what it was. Maybe he gave me a chance despite my age, but once he got to know me he thought I was immature."

"I would think you're the most mature out of any of us. 'Cept Kevin. And Hannah doesn't count because she's just got a stick up her ass. That ain't maturity."

"Yeah but... he's thirty-four. I'm stressing about hitting thirty and his next milestone is forty. He probably doesn't want someone who can't even fucking support themselves." He lowered his head into his hands and let out a long groan. "God dammit."

Gabe sat up. "Stop being so hard on yourself, man. So it didn't work out. It's not the end of the world."

"I know it's not."

"Are you going to hit that?"

Cas looked down at the forgotten bowl in his lap. He wasn't even sure when Gabe had passed it to him. He brought it to his lips, lighting it and taking a long pull before passing it back to Gabe.

"He probably just didn't think you guys were right for each other and didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Cas sighed, picking the bottle back up off the couch and unscrewing the top. "I guess... And I can't really be mad at him for that I suppose."

Gabe didn't answer, instead bringing the pipe to his mouth for another hit.

---

Dean was lying face-down on his bed when his phone went off with a text from Charlie.

Charlie: why have you been avoiding me for the past week?

Dean: what do you mean

Charlie: you've been blowing me off and you haven't responded to a single meme I tagged you in on FB

Dean: i just dont feel like hanging out

Dean: and i havent been on facebook

Charlie: bullshit

Charlie: tell me what happened.

Dean let out a long sigh. He couldn't hide shit from Charlie- never could. So he typed out his response and waited for the shitstorm.

Dean: i broke up with cas

Charlie: WHAT?! WHY?

Dean: because i gained like 15 pounds

Charlie: oookay... not good, but what the hell does that have to do with cas?

Charlie: do you think he cares? it's not like he's fucking skinny

Dean: its not about that

Dean: his eating habits were horrendous. not that i care but it was rubbing off on me constantly hanging out with him. i couldnt do it charlie

Charlie: did you try asking him not to bring that kind of food around you?

Dean: no

Charlie: oh my god

Dean: what? dont you think he wouldve been a little insulted if i said that?

Charlie: you didn't fucking tell him you had surgery did you

Dean: ...no

Charlie: WHAT THE FUCK DEAN

Dean: im tired of everybody fucking knowing!

Dean: its still embarrassing you know

Dean: look, i dont want to talk about it

Charlie: don't make me fucking come over there

Dean: knock it off

Charlie: dean you were super happy with cas

Charlie: and now you're miserable

Charlie: do the fucking math

Dean: ok, so, what? i should've stayed with cas and been a fucking whale again? im sure he would just love that

Dean: 15 pounds in 3 months is 60 pounds in a year. YOU do the math

Charlie: you can't just leave him hanging like that, dean. it's not right. he's really nice.

Dean: i didnt have a choice and you know it

Charlie: you're so full of shit

Charlie: i'm going to msg him on FB. he deserves to know.

Dean: dont you fucking dare

Charlie: he's my friend now too dean!

Dean: charlie im serious. have some fucking respect for my privacy and leave it the fuck alone.

Charlie: fine.

Charlie: asshole.

Dean: whatever

She was right, though. He was miserable. (And he was an asshole.) He needed to get his mind off of Cas- off of the guilt of hurting him, off of how badly he missed him. Back in the day, when he felt like shit, he'd order a fucking pizza. That wasn't an option anymore, but he could always go for the next best unhealthy coping mechanism- alcohol. He'd already been working on a bottle each night after work for the past week, but sitting on the couch and getting drunk in his boxers wasn't exactly helping him to feel better. He needed to try something else.

It was only ten, and he was off the next day, so he rose out of bed and got dressed. He'd already dropped five of the extra pounds he'd put on (which was definitely more than was healthy to lose in a little over a week), and he figured some random drunk girl at the bar wouldn't care about an extra ten pounds. A few drinks in him, and he probably wouldn't care anymore either.

He said goodbye to Floyd, locked up the house, and drove out to the nearest bar. He'd gone there a few times over the years, but not often enough to really know anybody there. Because of the surgery, he had a pretty low tolerance- he didn't need much to feel it and it hit him much faster, so he tried to take solace in the fact that he at least wouldn't have to spend a lot of money. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey, drained it, and then ordered a beer.

He turned in his seat to scan the bar. There were a bunch of guys surrounding the pool table, half-way through a game, and a few people sitting around at some tables. Def Leppard was playing from a jukebox somewhere, barely audible over the din of voices and laughter. He leaned his elbows back on the bar and sipped his beer, watching the group playing pool. A woman to the right caught his eye, and she quickly turned away and began giggling amongst her friends.

He fucking hated that. He never knew, when people laughed, if they were laughing at him. He figured these days there was really no reason to, but it still sat in the back of his mind, warring with his confidence and making him feel even shittier than he already did. He took another swig of his beer, already feeling buzzed, and turned back around to face the bar. Maybe this wasn't a great idea. His thoughts drifted to Cas, and not for the first time in the last week he felt like he'd made a terrible mistake.

About ten minutes passed and another whiskey forced down before there was a tap on his shoulder. He looked over and the same girl, a tall, fair-skinned woman with black hair, was standing beside him.

"Hey," she said, giving him a wide smile. She had blue eyes, and that combined with the dark hair and fair skin kind of reminded him of Cas. Not a good thing- not tonight, and probably not ever.

"Hey," he said back.

"How come you're here all alone?" she asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

He gave her a light shrug, lifting his beer slightly. "Just wanted a drink."

"Would you like some company?"

"Sure."

She slid herself onto the seat next to him and looked towards the rows of alcohol, tapping her fingernails on the counter.

"Would you like a drink?"

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"What do you want?"

"Hmm... A mojito."

Dean met the bartender's eye, and he made his way over as Dean downed the last of his beer.

"A whiskey, neat, and a mojito for the lady, please."

"You got it," he answered gruffly. He refilled Dean's glass, took his empty bottle, and turned around to prepare the mojito.

"So what's your name?" she asked, fiddling with a piece of her hair.

Dean tapped his fingers along the edge of his fresh glass of whiskey. "Dean."

"I'm Tessa," she said.

Dean glanced over at her. "What brings you here tonight, Tessa?"

She shrugged as the bartender set her drink on the counter in front of her. "Just lookin' for some fun."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, feeling the alcohol really starting to creep up on him. "And is that what brought you over here?"

She smiled and nodded.

A half-grin slowly spread across his face. "I think I can probably help with that." If he was being honest with himself, he'd prefer a guy, but picking up a girl was just... easier. He wasn't trying to accidentally hit on a straight guy and get punched in the face. There was also no guessing who would top and who would bottom with girls.

"I was hoping you could," she said simply, taking a sip of her drink and smirking around the straw.

He leaned forward to speak into her ear. "Where to?"

"You got a car?"

He pulled back and nodded. She swallowed another sip of her drink and set it down on the counter, just as a female voice sounded off from across the bar.

"Dean Michael Winchester!"

Recognizing the voice instantly, Dean dropped his head and closed his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan. "Jesus christ..."

Charlie stormed across the bar and right up to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Dean was definitely feeling the alcohol, and he was in no mood for Charlie's shenanigans. "I'm trying to get laid, Charlie, what the fuck does it look like?" he grumbled.

"You are such an asshole, Dean," Charlie muttered.

"Um... is this your girlfriend or something?" Tessa asked, eyes wide as they flicked back and forth between the two.

Charlie scoffed. "No. I'm gay."

"Oh really?" Tessa asked, picking her drink back up and taking a sip as she eyed Charlie up and down.

The once-over didn't escape Charlie's notice. "Hold that thought," she said, smiling slightly, before turning narrowed eyes back onto Dean. "Do you really think this will help you get over Cas?"

"There's nothing to get over, Charlie," Dean said dismissively, avoiding her eyes. "I ended it. Just leave it alone."

"No. You're being stupid," Charlie said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You know what? So what?" Dean snapped. "Am I not allowed to be a little fucking stupid once in a while? God."

"Yeah, you are, but not when other people's feelings are involved. He was my friend, too, and now I can't even message him and hang out with him because he's going to want to know why you dumped him. And you won't let me tell him."

"Jesus Charlie," Dean huffed, narrowing his eyes down at his drink. "We went out for three months and you only knew him for one. You guys hung out like four times. It's not the end of the world."

"He's a really nice guy," Charlie insisted, "And what you did was wrong."

Dean let his head drop down onto the arm holding his empty glass. "Okay, Charlie," he groaned. "I get it. I'm an asshole. Can you just leave me alone now?"

She sighed, visibly deflating, and glanced over at Tessa, who smiled and winked at her.

"Fine," she said to Dean. "But I'm stealing your girl and you're going home in a cab."

"'N' you say I'm an asshole," Dean grumbled into his arm.

"Save it, Dean," she muttered, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "Now pay the nice bartender."

Dean retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and slapped some money onto the counter, grumbling the entire time as Charlie called a cab.

"I'll be right back," she said politely as she pocketed her cellphone.

Tessa nodded and took another sip of her drink. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Likewise," he muttered as he allowed Charlie to pull him away.

"And thanks for the drink!" she called after them.

As they waited on the sidewalk for the cab, Dean leaning against a streetlight, Charlie placed her hands on her hips. "One night stands, Dean? This isn't like you." She squinted at Dean. "Very... OOC."

Dean rolled his eyes at her. Using roleplaying language in regular conversation- she was such a nerd. "Yeah, well, 'parently whatever I've been doin' isn't working," he said flatly, staring down at his boots.

"You need to call Cas and apologize," Charlie said simply.

"Oh please," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes again. "Like he's gonna forgive me for dumpin' him at his job without so much as an explanation."

"You dumped him at work?" Charlie screeched.

Dean winced. "Well, in the parkin' lot... after he got off."

"Who are you?" Charlie asked, incredulous. "Don't you remember how you felt when Lisa dumped you over a text message while you were at work?"

Dean looked away. "Yes." But what was he supposed to do? Invite Cas over and then tell him, so that Cas would have had to feel unwelcome and do the walk of shame out the front door and to his car? He wasn't completely heartless; he'd tried to put some thought into it.

Charlie turned her head to see the cab approaching. She turned back to Dean and let out a heavy sigh. "Go home and go to sleep. I'll come over in the morning and we'll come get the Impala."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, yanking open the door to the cab as it came to a stop. "Okay."

As the cab pulled away, Charlie waved, but Dean didn't notice. He stared out the window, forehead pressed to the glass, the ride silent. Floyd greeted him with a wagging tail when he walked in the front door, licking at his hand.

"Not in the mood, buddy," Dean mumbled, locking the door behind him and heading straight for the bedroom. Floyd followed him, jumping up onto the bed and lying down to wait for Dean.

Dean stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and walked naked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He avoided looking in the mirror, absolutely ashamed of himself for what he'd done to Cas.

He wanted to make it right, he really did. But he couldn't expect Cas to forgive him. If it had been the other way around, he probably wouldn't.

---

He woke up the next morning to his phone ringing non-stop. He blindly fumbled around for it on the night stand, and once he found it he squinted at the screen. His vision was still too blurry to read the text, but Charlie's picture was on the screen. He tapped answer and brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Wake up, drunkie," she said cheerfully.

"Ugh, what time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Ten."

"What do you want?"

"I'm on my way over there."

Dean groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. "I still have to cook breakfast and walk Floyd."

"Put him out back and get cookin'."

"Absolutely not. I'm not skipping anymore walks."

"It's not the end of the world, Dean."

"Did you not hear what I told you yesterday?" Dean asked irritably as he rolled over onto his back. "Fifteen pounds, Charlie."

"What I said still stands."

Dean sighed in resignation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Fine." He would just have to take Floyd for a longer walk later to make up for it.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said cheerfully and hung up before he could respond.

Charlie let herself in twenty-five minutes later. She opened the front door to find Dean leaning back against the kitchen counter in a sleep shirt and boxers, arms crossed over his chest.

"Morning."

Dean's frown turned into a scowl. "What's so good about it?"

Charlie dropped her bag onto the kitchen table and came to a stop in front of him, crossing her arms. "I didn't say it was good."

Dean looked away, grumbling something under his breath. Just as he did so, a piece of toast popped up from the toaster. He grabbed it and dropped it onto a plate that was set out on the counter, then picked it up and turned around to face Charlie again.

"Dry toast, Dean? Really?"

"Fift-"

"Stop," Charlie said quickly, swiping one hand through the air in front of her. Dean closed his mouth and blinked. "It's only fifteen pounds! You're still letting food and your weight control your life."

Dean grabbed the toast from the plate and took an aggressive bite. "So? The surgery only lasts like five years, Charlie. I can't just undo everyth-"

"No one said you'll be undoing everything," she interrupted. "You just need to be honest with Cas and give him a chance to make his own decisions."

Dean swallowed hard, forcing the large bite of dry toast down his throat. "So I should expect him to change just 'cause I have no fucking self-control?" he rasped.

"You don't have to expect anything from him. But you owe it to him to let him make that decision for himself. Maybe he would want to change."

Dean licked a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth as he looked away. "...You're right."

Charlie's shoulders sagged and she sighed. "I think you should go back to Missouri."

Dean took another bite of his toast, not meeting Charlie's eyes. "I dunno."

"Why not?"

Dean shrugged. "It's been over five years," he said quietly.

"And maybe it's time to work through some shit."

"I saw her for like seven years," he said with a frown. "I worked through plenty."

"Apparently not enough."

"...I guess," Dean conceded, setting the plate with his unfinished toast down on the counter. "How was your night with Tessa?" he asked, desperate to change the subject as he retrieved the orange juice from the fridge.

"Amazing. We fucked and then ate ice cream and watched Star Wars."

Dean snorted a laugh as he poured his glass. "Wow. Lesbian sex, huh?"

"Who says two guys can't eat ice cream and watch Star Wars after sex?"

Dean shrugged. "No one, but there's like, a zero percent chance you'll do that with a random hook-up."

"Oh, and you would know?" Charlie teased. "Because you're such a man-whore, and you've had so many one-night-stands?"

Dean frowned. "You got me there." He took a sip or his orange juice. "Maybe I'd have had more if you didn't keep stealing them, though."

"That was only one time!" she exclaimed. "Okay, two including last night."

"Two times you cockblocked me," Dean said sadly, shaking his head.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Shut up. You know how much shit I probably missed in high school because I was hanging out with you instead?" she said lightly.

Dean furrowed his brows. "Ouch."

"Oh," she said quickly, "I didn't mean it like that Dean, I swear!"

Dean nodded. "I know."

"I'm sorry," she whined, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her face into his chest. "I loved hanging out with you."

"Thank you."

She squeezed him in her arms. "You were so squishy back then. Now you've got muscles."

"Yep," he said nonchalantly, reaching behind him to set his glass of orange juice down on the counter. "That's why now I can do this!" he said quickly, gripping her waist tightly and scooping her up. She squealed as he hoisted her over his shoulder and started walking across the kitchen.

"Put me down!" she pushed out through her laughter.

He walked up to the back of the couch and tossed her over it, depositing her onto the cushions. She landed with an "Oof!"

"Now, you're going to sit here and watch TV with me today," he said, straightening up, "as punishment for stealing Tessa and bringing up high school all within twenty-four hours."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled fondly at him. "Fine."

---

August

The next week, Cas left his second appointment with Zachariah feeling a mixture of things. Mostly, he was angry, but a part of him also felt a little wrong, which in turn just made him feel stupid. He knew everything the conversion therapists said was bullshit- but he also knew that the longer he kept going to the appointments, the worse he would feel. And all the things said in sessions like those always reminded Cas of that first time he'd had to go through conversion therapy- at the summer camp his parents sent him to when he was fourteen. He definitely didn't want to think about that.

He had to be at work anyway, so he rolled a joint in a gas station parking lot and drove around in circles to kill some time and avoid being seen while he smoked it. He'd just tossed it out the window, made it back into the main part of town, and lit a cigarette when he noticed a familiar vehicle pulling up next to him out of the corner of his eye.

xxx

Dean was slowing to stop at a red light when he saw it. That fucking Lincoln with the god damn gold paint job.

He'd offered to grab lunch for everyone at the shop because he needed to get out of there for a little while. As he pulled up to one of the many intersections of the town's main strip, he saw the Lincoln front and center in the next lane over. There was no one ahead of Dean, so he was set up to pull up right next to Cas, and there was no way to avoid it.

As he pulled up, he heard the same radio station he was listening to coming from Cas' speakers, both front windows rolled down.

Everybody plays the fool, sometime
No exception to the rule
It may be factual, may be cruel, sometime
But everybody plays the fool

He glanced over as he came to a stop. Cas was wearing his blue PetSmart shirt, so he was either on his way to or from work. Cas looked over as well, his face falling as he noticed Dean. He steeled his expression and turned his head to face forward again. Dean watched as he took a drag from his cigarette, staring forward, until finally he accidentally hit the gas a little too hard, his entire body jerking back lightly as the car lurched forward. Dean looked up to see the light was green, and he pressed the gas as well, although he went much slower to avoid catching up with Cas.

He didn't know Cas listened to oldies. Of course he didn't, though, because he really didn't know much at all about Cas. He'd only known him for three months, and then he'd cut their time short like an idiot.

The radio had already switched to another song, and as he came back to reality, he felt horrible knowing Cas was listening to those same lyrics.

You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
You got to trust, give it time
No matter how long it takes

But how many heartaches must I stand
Before I find a love to let me live again?

Maybe he was being dumb. Maybe Cas was over him already, and the sappy songs on the radio didn't bother him in the slightest, and he had only refused to look at Dean because Dean was a douche.

He let out a heavy sigh, flicking his blinker to take the turn to the deli his coworkers had ordered lunch from. He knew the longer he waited, the less chance he had of ever being with Cas again, but he had no idea what to even say to him. Should he call him? What would he say first? If Cas didn't answer, what could he possibly say in a voicemail to get Cas to call him back? Probably nothing. Cas was pissed off, and rightfully so. He wouldn't even look at him. Dean didn't deserve a second chance.

His appointment with Missouri was a week away, and while he was nervous as hell, he hoped she could help him figure out what the fuck to do.

xxx

Seriously? Today of all days, when he felt like shit and was high as fuck, he had to see Dean for the first time in two weeks? And Dean kept looking at him. Why was he looking at him? If he wanted to look at him, why'd he dump him? Okay, that was stupid. He did say that they could be friends eventually. But it had been two weeks without a single word from him, so that was probably bullshit anyway.

He'd hit the gas a little too hard when the light turned green, and made himself look like an idiot. Great. By the time he got to work, his high was dead and he was in a foul mood. The only customers he could manage to fake it for were the dogs, but at least they seemed to appreciate the effort.

That night, things didn't get better. Work was so slow that they sent him home early, which cut into his pay and meant he had to suffer through dinner with his parents. His mother argued with him over his therapy sessions between pouring herself glasses of wine. Apparently Zachariah had called to inform Naomi that Cas was very uncooperative.

Cas had gaped at how that surely had to be a violation of HIPAA, but Naomi brushed it off, saying she was paying for the sessions and deserved to know if he was wasting her money or not.

"You're wasting your money anyway," Cas had said. "It's impossible to turn me straight, no matter how hard I or anyone else tries."

After that she'd sent him to his room like a fucking child, and he'd gone, leaving half of his shitty dinner, because he couldn't stand to look at her or his damn impassive father anymore.

Around midnight, he poked his head out of his door and squinted down the dark hallway. His parents door was closed, and he hadn't heard a peep from his mother in at least an hour. Considering the hour, and the copious amount of wine she'd imbibed over the course of the evening, he was pretty sure she was asleep.

He went into the kitchen and opened the pantry, pulling out a box of macaroni and cheese. Setting the box down on the counter, he carefully pulled a pot down from the cabinet and filled it with water. He set it down on the burner a little too hard, and he winced as it made a loud clack. He turned the burner on and ripped open the top to the box, fishing around inside for a piece of macaroni. He pulled one out and held it up to Roger, who was perched on his shoulder. The rat quickly grabbed the uncooked pasta and began munching on it.

The hall light flicked on behind him, and he spun around. Nobody came, though, so whoever it was was probably in the bathroom. He'd left the kitchen light off, so as long as he didn't make any noise, they'd probably go right back to bed.

He turned back around and stared down at the pot of water, scratching Roger behind the ears and waiting for it to boil. He wasn't sure how long he was standing there before he heard his mother's voice behind him.

"What're you doing?"

She was wasted; he could hear in her voice. "Cooking," he answered without turning around.

"We just ate dinner."

Cas glanced at the clock on the stove. It was almost midnight, and he'd choked down half of her disgusting dinner at 6:30. "That was over five hours ago, mom."

"So? You really need another meal? You should be in bed."

He rolled his eyes, only because he wasn't facing her. "You should be, too."

"Is- WHY is that thing in my kitchen?!"

Shit. He'd completely forgotten about Roger. "I- I'm sorry, I forgot-"

"You forgot I don't want a rat in my kitchen?"

"We were just hanging out and I came out here and forgot-"

She crossed the room and came to stand next to him. "Hanging out? With a rat?" She leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling and crying, "Oh, why is my son like this?"

God, he hated how dramatic she was, especially when she was drunk. "Mom, stop."

She looked down at the pot of water, which was beginning to bubble. She stared at it blankly for nearly half a minute before mumbling, "You are so full of sin, Castiel."

"Why? Because I like food? I've got nothing on your love of wine."

"Wine is the blood of christ," she said quickly. "And I don't just mean your gluttony. You just ooze sin. Gluttony, sloth, pride, lust. You wonder why I drink- look what you do to me, Castiel." She held her hand out, and it was trembling. "You stress me so."

Cas was pretty sure that was the excessive amount of alcohol she'd been ingesting for as long as he could remember, but he wasn't going to push the subject. He looked up from her hand to meet her eyes. "Why do you care so much? Worry about your own sin."

"Don't you get it?" she said loudly. "As your mother my one job is to keep you on the right path! Don't you understand? I'm a failure! I have failed with you in every way possible. A mother's one job and I couldn't even do that right. And it's my fault. This is my punishment. To spend eternity knowing my son is going to Hell."

Fuck, that hurt. He thought he was a pretty good person, but apparently she saw being gay as such a fatal flaw that she considered herself a failure as a mother. Ouch. "I think you should go to bed," he muttered.

Her eyes traveled to the pot of water, which was now boiling. She reached over to grab it, but Cas beat her to it, grabbing the handles and pressing it down against the burner. He didn't want her to spill it and burn herself; the last thing he wanted was to drive his intoxicated mother to the ER at midnight. She tried to wrap her fingers around Cas' and lift it, but he was stronger than her.

"Stop-"

"Give me the pot, Castiel," she slurred, pushing her shoulder into his a bit.

"Stop- st-" he tried, but she kept shoving her shoulder into his. "Okay- okay, fine- just STOP," he snapped. "I'll do it. You're drunk and you're going to burn yourself." She still didn't stop though, and Cas had to push against her harder. "MOM-"

She pushed into him again, and Cas felt the weight on his opposite shoulder disappear. It seemed like it happened in slow-motion- he could see a blur of fur as Roger hurtled towards the water, and he shoved his right shoulder into his mom, knocking her further down the counter. He could feel a "NO!" ripping from his throat but he didn't hear it. He swiped his left hand out over the top of the pot, clamping his fingers shut around Rogers body so tightly the rat squeaked, and bringing him to his chest in one fluid motion.

Roger didn't squirm or try to get away, just allowed Cas to press him into his chest, and Cas could feel his own heart hammering beneath his rib cage. Roger almost just died. Roger was almost just fucking boiled alive.

He could see his mothers wide eyes in his peripheral vision. Apparently, even in her drunken stupor, she knew Cas was about to explode.

She opened her mouth, attempting to slur an apology. "If- If he wasn't in the kitch-"

Cas turned on her, teeth bared as he shouted, "Just go back to fucking bed!"

She took a step back but didn't leave, seemingly waiting for Cas to say something else. When he didn't, only closed his eyes and reached a shaking hand up to stroke a thumb down Roger's back, she retreated back into the hallway, mumbling about how she told Cas his rats weren't allowed out of his room. It took everything Cas had in him to ignore her.

Cas took a moment to recollect himself, then reached out and clicked off the burner. He dumped the boiling water into the sink and put the pot back on the burner (as it was too hot to put in the dish drain), and he put the opened box of macaroni back in the pantry. Shuffling out of the kitchen and into the hallway, he shut off the light his mother had left on and shut himself back in his room. Once inside, he turned the light on to check Roger for burns, in case his tail had touched the water. When he determined he was fine, he gave him a kiss on his head- and got one in return- before placing him back in his cage, giving him a treat, and turning the light back off. It wasn't until he climbed under the covers and laid back against the pillows that he realized he was shaking. He needed to find a way to get out of there- he couldn't deal with this for much longer.

He grabbed his phone off of his night stand and opened Facebook. Maybe some mindless scrolling and funny memes would take his mind off of it long enough for him to calm down and fall asleep.

He noticed that his Uncle Chuck- his mom's brother- was online. He hadn't talked to him in a while, and he debated sending him a message. He could use someone to talk to that wasn't one of his friends, and his Uncle had grown up with his tyrannical religious grandparents, so he kind of understood some of what Cas was dealing with. It was after one am though, and he thought that maybe it was too late to start a conversation, but then he remembered Chuck's recent posts about being in California, so it was a little earlier for him.

He opened a new message, typed Hey Uncle Chuck, and hit send.

Chuck Shurley: hey cas! it's been a while. how have you been?

Castiel Novak: Honestly... I've been better

Chuck Shurley: what's going on?

Castiel Novak: Mom and dad are sending me to conversion therapy again.

Chuck Shurley: shit, kid, i'm sorry.

Chuck Shurley: why? thought they were fooled last time

Castiel Novak: I thought so too

Castiel Novak: And maybe they were, but they somehow found out I was seeing someone

Chuck Shurley: how?

Castiel Novak: I don't know. Maybe they saw us in public

Chuck Shurley: shit

Castiel Novak: Yeah.

Castiel Novak: I don't know how long they've known but she conveniently confronted me the night we split up

Chuck Shurley: wait what? so you're not with the guy anymore?

Castiel Novak: No

Castiel Novak: ...wait

Castiel Novak: Omg what if mom fucking SAID SOMETHING TO HIM

Castiel Novak: Fuck

Chuck Shurley: he dumped you?

Castiel Novak: Yeah and couldn't (wouldn't) give me a reason.

Chuck Shurley: ouch... maybe she did say something

Castiel Novak: I'm gonna fuckin lose it on her, I'm serious

Chuck Shurley: cas calm down

Chuck Shurley: look you need to get out of there ASAP. i know you're worried about roger but he'll be fine. rats are adaptable. even if you can't stay with any of your friends, maybe he can?

Cas: Then where am I supposed to go?

Chuck Shurley: i dunno. but then you'd have more options.

Chuck Shurley: you know i'd offer you to come here but Beck and i are living in that little RV right now while we travel

Castiel Novak: Sounds fun

Chuck Shurley: i'm sorry.

Castiel Novak: I just don't get why she hates me so much

Castiel Novak: WTF did I ever do to her

Castiel Novak: It's not just the anti-gay shit. She straight-up hates me I know it

Castiel Novak: I can see it in her eyes

Castiel Novak: Tonight she said some shit about my sexuality being her punishment or something. I don't know.

Castiel Novak: She was super drunk.

Castiel Novak: Not that she ever really makes sense anyway

Chuck Shurley: ...

Chuck Shurley: cas i'm going to tell you something

Chuck Shurley: and i need you not to tell your mom i said anything

Castiel Novak: Um

Castiel Noval: ...ok

Chuck Shurley: when I was 19, your mom was 15

Chuck Shurley: your father was my age and started going to our church when his family moved into town

Chuck Shurley: he and your mom started spending a lot of time together. i didn't like it, he creeped me out, but he was widely liked by everyone in the church so my opinion didn't mean shit, especially because as soon as i turned 18 i had stopped attending services

Chuck Shurley: so anyway

Chuck Shurley: your mom comes to me one day and confides in me that she'd told our father she was sleeping at a friends house and went to a party with Bart instead

Chuck Shurley: while they were there... well she'd never really drank before so she was hammered. went upstairs to lie down and she said the next morning she woke up naked under the blanket with bart and didn't remember shit.

Chuck Shurley: she was really upset and i saw fucking red. i mean he basically raped my fucking sister right?

Chuck Shurley: if he wasn't too drunk to get it up, he should've been able to tell she was way too drunk to consent

Chuck Shurley: but why would he care about that, he was 19 seeing a 15 year old...

Cas stared at his phone in shock, watching the blinking dots indicating Chuck was typing. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that he knew exactly where this was going...

Chuck Shurley: she begged me not to say anything, that she just didn't remember because she'd been drinking and she must have agreed, but she couldn't remember. anyway she said it was her fault for lying to our father and thinking "impure thoughts" about Bart in the first place. that she basically asked for it and she'd pray for forgiveness for both her and bart for sinning.

Chuck Shurley: two months later she comes to me again because she's not feeling well. i bought her a drug-store pregnancy test and sure enough she's pregnant

Chuck Shurley: and please dont hate me for this

Chuck Shurley: i told her that if she didn't keep her mouth shut and get an abortion that dad was going to force her to carry and KEEP the baby. i told her i would take her and pay for it and everything, but she refused.

Chuck Shurley: and our father did exactly what i said he would. called her a whore and told her if her and bart didn't get married the church would shun them both. bart didn't seem to care, he wanted the abortion, but dad was having none of it. let's just say "shot gun wedding" got pretty literal

Castiel Novak: Whoa wait a minute hold up

Castiel Novak: Are you saying I'm a fucking rape baby

Castiel Novak: Are you fucking serious

Chuck Shurley: i'm sorry.. but i thought you should know. it might explain some of her behavior... aside from our insane religious upbringing and her untreated mental illness

Chuck Shurley: i mean i'm not a doctor but it's pretty obvious she's not right, Cas

Castiel Novak: So she resents me. I ruined her life. She never wanted me

Chuck Shurley: i wouldn't say that... it's probably more accurate to say Bart ruined her life

Chuck Shurley: and your grandfather

Chuck Shurley: but she does probably resent you...

Chuck Shurley: fuck this all sounds so horrible and i wish i didnt have to tell you but i need you to know that none of this is your fault

Cas stared blankly at the screen, thinking back to all the things she'd said in the past, the odd looks and remarks from family members, the weird way she and his father interacted. And the fact that he was twenty-seven and his mom was only forty-three.

Castiel Novak: This... this actually makes sense. WTF. I don't even know how to feel right now.

Chuck Shurley: :(

Chuck Shurley: well, i mean, at least you know it's nothing you did wrong...

Castiel Novak: Oh, except be born... lol NBD

Chuck Shurley: cas stop. none of this was in your control.

Chuck Shurley: your mother was failed by so many people in her life it's sickening. and i'm not just talking about all of that- i'm talking about the literal brainwashing we had to endure as kids. i wish so badly i could've gotten her to see the light

Castiel Novak: That's ironic... she keeps telling me that /I/ need to see the light.

Castiel Novak: If I told her I didn't believe she'd probably burn me at the stake

Chuck Shurley: yeah... best to keep that to yourself

Chuck Shurley: you still attend services?

Castiel Novak: No... they banned me

Chuck Shurley: no way lol why

Castiel Novak: When they found out I was gay the anti-gay rhetoric multiplied tenfold... one day I got tired of hearing it, and all the damn murmurs of approval, so I stood up and yelled "fuck all of you!" while flipping both birds and walked out.

Castiel Novak: Mom followed me out and slapped me so hard in the parking lot my ears were ringing

Chuck Shurley: jesus

Castiel Novak: That's the problem, isn't it?

Chuck Shurley: not him honestly, his followers. or at least those who claim to be

Castiel Novak: I guess

Cas wasn't really sure what else to say after that. He'd gotten way more information than he'd ever expected to from the conversation, although there was absolutely nothing he could do with it. All he knew was that it was a lot to process and he was ready to go to sleep.

Castiel Novak: Thank you for this info. I think it's helped me understand a little bit what's going on with her. Not that it'll change anything, but...

Chuck Shurley: PM if you need me

Castiel Novak: Will do. Thanks

---

September

The leaves were finally falling, and they crunched noisily beneath Dean's boots as he made his way across the parking lot. He was five minutes early for his appointment with Missouri, but he couldn't wait in the car anymore. He'd already spent ten minutes sitting in the driver's seat, because despite how nervous he was, he'd still shown up early.

He signed in at the front desk and turned around to scan the room. He ended up taking a seats in the corner furthest away from the other people in the waiting room, right next to the single double-wide chair nearly every waiting room had these days. He stared at it uncomfortably for a moment, before glancing down at the normal seat he was in and observing the extra room he had. It brought him back to the first time he'd gone there, before he'd lost anything, and he'd taken up almost three-quarters of that larger seat.

At least they'd had one, though. While they weren't the same chairs (twelve years usually sees some redecorating), both sets had wooden arms- an obvious issue for those who were wider than the average person. If they hadn't had one, he would've been left standing and humiliated.

"Sweetie, stop biting your nails."

"I'm fucking nervous," he mumbled.

"It'll be fine," Mary assured him.

He didn't exactly like making eye contact with anyone, but he chanced a glance up to look around the waiting room. There was a mother and her child a few seats over, an older man reading a magazine in the corner, and two young girls across the room, talking among themselves. He could feel the little kid staring at him, and he heard the mother mutter something about staring being rude. He just gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the shame bubbling in his stomach.

He was aware that everyone had their issues, but they weren't wearing the consequences of them on their body like an albatross around their neck. They were able to look outwardly normal, while Dean was stuck with the literal baggage of his own issues attached to his skeleton. He fucking hated it; he often wished he could just rip his skin off, and he had to remind himself that that was why he was there in the first place- because he wanted to change.

"Dean?"

He gripped the arms of the chair and slowly pushed himself up, gritting his teeth at the pain in his knees and lower back. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the others in the waiting room stared without actually staring; they all made a point to look away, but he knew they were all still stealing glances. What could he do though, turn around and leave? So he crossed the room and followed the woman who'd called his name down the hallway and to the last door on the left.

She motioned towards the couch, and he took a seat as she did the same in a rolling chair across the. "It's nice to meet you, Dean," she said kindly. "I'm Missouri."

He forced a smile and hoped when he opened his mouth she wouldn't notice that he was slightly out of breath. "Nice to meet you, too," he mumbled. His skin was prickling with the beginnings of sweat and although he'd just showered before he left the house, he was paranoid he was going to stink. Fuck, he hated this so much-

"Hey, what's going on?" Missouri asked softly.

Dean blinked. "What?"

"There's a lot going through your head right now, I can see it on your face. What's going on?"

"Um..." He swallowed and hesitated, but she just kept staring at his face waiting for an answer. He looked away and huffed a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm just thinking how pathetic I- it is that I can't even walk down a goddamn hallway without being out of breath."

Missouri quirked one eyebrow. "Don't think I'm going to ignore what you intended to say, but we can talk about that later. I want you to know that it's not pathetic, hun."

He gave her a small nod and she smiled softly. "So do you want to tell me how you got to where you are right now?"

"Well, uh..." He reached up to scratch at the back of his head. "I've always been overweight, I guess... Whenever my dad said anything, my mom would just joke that I was an "enthusiastic" eater. Anyway... it wasn't really a problem until I turned thirteen. The other kids at school were dicks, and y'know, puberty and stuff, I wanted to be attractive or whatever, so I started exercising. And it went well for a while until I started trying to run a trail in the woods by my house, and I stepped in a hole and shattered my ankle. And it really sucked because it was right after school let out and I'd been hoping to drop a lot of weight over the summer. Instead I started school in September thirty pounds heavier because I sat on my ass all summer. After that it just... didn't stop."

Missouri nodded. "And why do you think you overeat?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. My mom loves to cook and bake and it's just always there. And she's always offering and... I don't know. She wants to make me happy. She gives me whatever I want. I'm pretty spoiled." He shrugged again. "I don't really have an excuse. I haven't been through anything traumatic. My dad drinks a little too much sometimes and they argue once in a while, but I'm pretty sure that's normal."

"Spoiled people don't usually acknowledge that they're spoiled," she said thoughtfully. "And if they do, they certainly don't think it's a problem." She paused. "And you don't need to be traumatized to have issues. I think most all of us have our own issues, and they manifest differently."

Dean shrugged again. "I guess. But... it mainly just makes me happy? Like, nothing else does the same way. I have other hobbies but I'd always rather be eating and it's kind of sickening. And I always feel guilty afterwards, and eating makes me feel better, sooo..."

"So you're stuck in a cycle," she said.

He nodded. "And I have to break it. I, um, went to see a doctor, and he said if I can lose a little I can have weight-loss surgery. But I obviously need to, uh... figure out the problem to do that... and prevent this from happening again."

She smiled. "You have a good head on your shoulders, sweetie. I think you'll be just fine. Can you tell me about your other hobbies?"

"Well I play the guitar, and a lot of video games, and I read a lot. And watch TV, obviously. I like nature, but..." He trailed off; thinking of the things he already couldn't do at twenty-one was so depressing.

She smiled and leaned forward in her chair. "Here's what I want you to do- did the doctor give you a diet plan?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so in addition to following that, I want you to try to keep yourself busy. Your hands and your mouth. I want you to make a list of things you can do besides eat when you're thinking about food. Playing the guitar or video games would be the best, because it uses both of your hands. Maybe you can make some crafts or learn to draw. Watching TV would be the last thing you want to do, but you could get some sugar-free gum or lollipops to keep your mouth busy when you do."

He nodded as she leaned back in her chair. "What's your independence like?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"What do you do for yourself?"

"Oh, uh... Everything I need to. I mean, my mom insists on doing all the motherly crap- my laundry and shit. But I, um, don't need her help for anything..." He trailed off before weakly finishing, "personal." And thank god for that. He wasn't sure he could handle needing that much help. He knew deep down that, besides the back pain and other health problems he was already developing, the fear of that was part of what had pushed him to try to change; he was scared that loss of independence wasn't too far off.

She smiled at him. "Now... I'd like to revisit what you first said when you walked in here."

"Dean?"

Dean blinked and Missouri was at the other end of the waiting room, in the hallway, smiling at him. He practically popped out of his seat to stride across the room and follow her into her office. As she closed the door behind them, she looked him up and down and smiled brightly. "It is so good to see you, sweetie."

"You too, Missouri."

She stepped forward to pull him into a hug, and he hugged her tightly in return. When she stepped back, she looked him up and down. "I'm so glad you're still healthy. I have to admit I was very worried when I saw your name on my schedule." She motioned towards the couch and he took a seat as she made her way towards her chair. "Is everything alright?"

He pressed his palms to his knees and squeezed nervously. "Not really."

She gave him a look of sympathy. "What's going on?"

"Well... I, um, met this guy." He took a deep breath. "And I asked him out. And we really hit it off, and we were together for like three months. And... I told him I tracked everything I ate, but I didn't really tell him why. He knew I was overweight but he had no idea the extent of it. And everything was fine except he himself was kind of overweight and he ate whatever he wanted. And he didn't seem to care, and that was great for him. But... it kind of rubbed off on me hanging out with him constantly, and I stopped tracking and I got lazy. Then I woke up one day after this weird dream where I was fat again and he was there instead of my mom, and that morning I realized I'd put on fifteen pounds."

He realized he was rambling and took a break to sigh. "I freaked out, obviously. And I didn't want to say anything and ask him to change because there's nothing wrong with him, and even though he acted like he didn't care about his weight I could tell he was kind of self-conscious, and I didn't want to make him feel bad about himself. I'm the one with the problem, and I just got scared that I would fuck everything up again, so I broke up with him. I told him I wasn't ready for a relationship, which apparently is kind of true, but I don't think he believed me. He was really hurt and I... I don't know what to do." He swallowed. "I don't know why I'm still like this."

Missouri stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before her face relaxed and she smiled softly. "I'm glad to see you still remember my lecture about being completely honest with me."

Dean smiled sadly. "If only I could be honest with everybody else."

"Well you're here, and we can work on that. So that's a good thing." Dean nodded, already feeling some of the tension draining from his body. "So it sounds to me like you still didn't tell this boy that you had surgery?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "I guess I'm just still kind of ashamed that I ever let it get to that point. I'm afraid he wouldn't look at me the same if I told him."

"You said he's overweight himself. Do you really think he'd judge you?"

Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "I don't know. He's not really that heavy... maybe thirty extra pounds. I don't expect him to understand."

"I see." She paused. "But I don't think it's fair to not even give him the chance. And he doesn't have to understand to be accepting."

"I know, I just... don't think I can handle the rejection again."

"Can you refresh my memory? Are we talking about Lisa? I thought that had nothing to do with your weight."

"It didn't. She knew about that going into our relationship. I think it was because I'm bi..." He shrugged lightly. "She became kinda distant after I told her and dumped me shortly after." Missouri nodded thoughtfully, her mouth turned down slightly at the corners. "But it's still something that I can't change," Dean continued. "I can't change my past just like I can't change who I am. So... I don't know if I could handle that again. It really hurts thinking of how much work I put into changing my life only for it to still be an issue."

Missouri leaned forward a bit. "It's only an issue because you're making it into one, Dean. If you had told...?"

"Cas," Dean supplied.

"Cas, and he had judged you for it, that's his problem, isn't it? And it would give you a good judge of his character, anyway."

"I guess that's true," Dean said quietly. "But... I kind of fucked it up already. ...I don't know if he'd give me a second chance."

Missouri raised one eyebrow. "Did you do something hurtful?"

"Not intentionally," he said quickly. "But I know he was hurt because he didn't believe the whole 'it's not you, it's me' thing. So I don't know if he'd give me a chance to explain."

"There's only one way to find out," Missouri concluded.

---

October

Two months since he'd last seen Cas, and Dean was miserable. Actually, miserable was an understatement. He hadn't realized he was missing something in his life until Cas had come and gone. He'd seen Missouri again since his first appointment, and he could tell that she was disappointed that he still hadn't reached out to Cas. But every time he opened a new blank text message, or hovered over the 'call' button on Cas' contact, he just imagined Cas responding with "fuck off," and he couldn't do it.

He pulled into the lot of Singer's Auto and his heart leapt into his throat when he spotted the Lincoln parked in a spot near the building. The rear end was smashed in, and as he pulled up, he saw that the windshield was completely gone. The front end was relatively unscathed, but the interior was stained red with some smatters of blood.

Instantly his stomach churned with panic. He pulled out his phone and texted Cas without even giving it a second thought.

Dean: cas, are you okay?

Fuck, please let Cas be alright, he thought. Please.

He climbed out of the car and approached the Lincoln. A few bits of jagged edges of the windshield were still in place, but most of it was smashed all along the inside of the car, littering the seats and floor. There was blood- a lot of it- all over the front seats. He kept checking his phone, but his message only said delivered. That at least meant Cas' phone was on, right? He made sure the ringer was on the highest volume before tucking it back into his pocket and walking towards the building.

Bobby was sitting at the front desk, shuffling through some paperwork.

"When did the Lincoln come in?" he asked quickly, struggling not to convey in his voice the panic he was feeling.

"Good morning to you, too," Bobby said gruffly. He picked up his cup of coffee and took a long swig. "Some time late last night. Why?"

"Is the driver okay?"

Bobby frowned. "You know I have no idea. They don't tell us that stuff. We just fix the car. Fixin' the driver's the hospital's problem."

The color drained from Dean's face, and Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Are you alright, son?"

"I... no," Dean answered honestly. "I know the owner."

Bobby gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sure he's alright."

"I hope so," Dean mumbled. Suddenly, his phone dinged, and he nearly dropped it in his haste to retrieve it from his pocket.

Cas: I'm fine

Dean: thank god

Dean: are you sure?

Cas: Just a couple of stitches and whiplash. I'll live. Thank you

Dean: are you in the hospital?

Cas: No, I'm home

Dean: ok

He wasn't sure what else to say, and Cas' short answers made him feel like Cas didn't really want to talk to him (and he couldn't blame him), so he left it at that. He told Bobby he wanted to work on the car, and Bobby shuffled a few things around so Dean could focus on it.

As he spent the next four days working on it, he thought about Cas. He decided he needed to make it right. Even if Cas wouldn't take him back, Cas at least deserved an explanation, and Dean couldn't take the guilt anymore anyway. He had to tell him.

He got out every single dent, replaced the windshield, fixed the rear end, replaced and re-packed the airbag, and cleaned the blood, and when he called the number on the paperwork, a woman answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Naomi Novak?"

"Yes."

"This is Dean, from Singer's Auto. I was just calling to let you know the Lincoln is finished."

"Finally. He's been driving me crazy stuck in the house. What's the total?"

"Well... the damage to the rear end was quite extensive..."

As soon as the total left his mouth, she snapped, "Are you kidding me?"

"Um... no," he mumbled, a bit taken aback. He was used to customers getting upset, but it wasn't usually directed at him. "But that's in line with the estimate you agreed to."

"Yes, but I assumed an estimate was worst-case scenario."

"It ended up being worst-case scenario."

She sighed heavily. "That's practically highway robbery, for something anyone could do."

Did he just hear her correctly? "Um-"

She cut him off with, "What time do you close?"

He was nearly speechless at her audacity. "Five," he said dumbly.

"I'll be there at a quarter to."

"O-" He didn't even have time to finish the word before he heard the click of her hanging up. He shook his head in disbelief and set the phone back down in the cradle. If she treated strangers like that, he didn't really want to know how she treated Cas at home. He remembered what Gabe had told him at the party, and it weighed on his mind, making him feel even guiltier for the next few hours.

Naomi walked in at 4:45 on the dot, Cas trailing behind her, keeping his eyes on the ground. Dean was standing at the desk, and he stared at Cas for a moment, hoping he would look up, but he didn't. He had a decent sized gash across his right cheek, held together with stitches, and a black eye. His hair had grown quite a bit and he looked like he'd packed on at least twenty pounds in the last three months since Dean had seen him in the PetSmart parking lot. He was wearing the same worn Led Zeppelin shirt he'd been wearing when they first met, the one Dean now knew was his favorite, and it was riding up a bit, revealing a good half-inch strip of skin beneath the hem.

He remembered Cas confiding in him that he was an emotional eater, and he felt another pang of guilt.

"I'm here for the Lincoln," his mother announced, oblivious to Dean's intense staring at her son.

Dean tore his eyes away from Cas. "I figured," he muttered, sliding her invoice across the counter. "Cash or credit?"

"Credit," she answered, opening her wallet and sliding out a credit card. She handed it across the counter. "Do you see how much you've cost me, Castiel?"

"Yes," he muttered, and Dean could hear the internal eye-roll in his voice. He couldn't believe Cas hadn't strangled her condescending ass already.

"I told him not to drive in the mountains at night," she said to Dean, although Dean was pretty sure it was more to just hear herself talk. "But does he ever listen to me? No."

Dean clenched his jaw as he ran the card. "Shouldn't you just be glad he's alright?" he muttered.

"If he'd listened to me in the first place, it wouldn't be an issue," she said flatly.

Dean ripped the receipt out of the machine and slapped it on the counter with a pen. "Sign," he said through gritted teeth.

She seemed oblivious to the waves of anger radiating off of him as she signed the slip of paper and handed it back. When Dean returned her card, along with her copy of the receipt, she slipped them into her wallet and glanced at Cas.

"I'll see you at home."

Cas nodded, still staring at the floor, and she walked around him and out the door.

"Jesus, dude," Dean breathed when the door closed behind her.

Cas lifted his eyes, although he still didn't look quite at Dean. "I'm sorry," he said quickly and quietly. "This was the closest place that did body work, and the tow trucks charge by the mile, and-"

"Whoa," Dean said quickly, holding his hands up in front of him. "Why are you apologizing?"

Cas shrugged, lowering his gaze again. "I don't know."

Dean chewed his lip. "I'm glad you came in, Cas. ...And I'm glad you're okay."

Cas looked to the left. "Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, and then Dean asked, "What happened?"

Cas looked up at him, and his lips parted, but he didn't say anything as he thought back to the night it happened.

He'd been hanging out at Gabe's with him, Kevin, and Alfie, playing Cards Against Humanity. They were both drinking, but Cas had opted out. He'd been drinking too much lately, and it was making him feel like shit, so he was sticking with weed for the night. Gabe and Kevin had decided they were hungry, and Gabe insisted he needed Twizzlers, so they'd asked Cas to go get food. Never one to turn down a food run, Cas agreed to run out to the nearest twenty-four-hour gas station, even though it was nearing midnight.

He'd been driving down the main road, a windy, woodsy road with a speed limit of fifty-five. Another car had been riding his ass for two miles, and their tailgating was making him nervous.

Just as he came around a corner, slowing to a little under fifty to take the turn, a large deer was standing dead in the center of the lane, and it rolled right over Cas' hood, smashing his windshield. He'd slammed on the brakes, and the car behind him that had been tailgating plowed into him at forty-five miles an hour.

"...Cas?"

Cas blinked, clearing his thoughts and focusing on Dean. "Hit a deer," he managed. "...Car behind me was following too closely."

Dean nodded, studying Cas' face. He'd figured as much, since he'd seen the tufts of brown fur jammed into the crevices of Cas' front bumper, but he'd still wanted to ask. "Cas..." he sighed, looking away as Cas looked up at him. "I made a huge mistake. I'd like to explain..." He brought his eyes to Cas' face. "If you'll let me."

As soon as he looked at Cas, Cas looked away again. "Okay," he said softly.

"Will you come over to my house?" Dean asked hopefully. "Floyd misses you."

Cas' lips parted, but he didn't say anything, looking unsure.

"I'll order a pizza. Please."

Cas stared at him for a moment, before the corners of his mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you really bribing me with food?"

"Yes," Dean said seriously.

Cas huffed a small laugh, looking away again. "Fine."

Dean smiled, and it felt so weird to smile again, but he couldn't ignore the happiness blooming in his chest at just the realization that Cas was at least going to hear him out. "Awesome. I get out in like ten minutes. You wanna wait in here or in the car?"

"I'll wait in the car," he said. Dean nodded and handed him his keys, and Cas took them and walked out.

Dean pushed out a heavy sigh, mostly relieved that Cas was giving him a chance to explain, and walked into the back to clean up. Once he finished, he said goodbye to Bobby and headed out into the parking lot. As he got into the Impala, he rolled down the passenger window and called over, "Follow me back to my house?"

Cas nodded and started the Lincoln, taking a drag off his cigarette as he waited for Dean to pull out.

Dean ordered the pizza on the way. The entire ride, he kept glancing in the rear view, terrified Cas would veer off in another direction and take off. He didn't, though, following Dean (a little closely) all the way to the house, and once they pulled into the driveway, his fear was replaced by anxiety about what he had to say to Cas. What if Cas never looked at him the same way again? What if he went through all of this and Cas still didn't give him a second chance? As he pulled into his driveway, he reminded himself of what Missouri had said: There's only one way to find out.