Oh my goodness! I am so so so so sorry about how long it took for me to get this one out. School and whatnot, you know. And then my internet got shut off for god knows why. This one is kind of rushed and might not be the best quality, seeing as I just realized how long it had been since I wrote and tried to get whatever I could out so you guys weren't too sad. I hope it doesn't show too much!

Castiel didn't feel quite ready to go back home yet. Well to Dean's apartment, that is. He had just sold almost all of his paintings to some woman in a suit at a gallery opening a few weeks back, and he had a lot of loose change milling about his wallet. He decided to take advantage of it and hired Chuck as his unofficial personal chauffeur for the day.

"Chuck, I'm going job-hunting," stated Cas, rather matter-of-factly.

"So you're planning to stay in Sioux Falls, then?"

"Yeah…" Cas answered thoughtfully, "I guess I am."

Later they did, in fact, find Cas a job.

They were searching all the local galleries for anyone who knew any information about anything, when Chuck was introduced to an older woman who wanted to hire an artist. When Chuck called Castiel over to see what was what, she told him that he house was too dreary, and many of her friends thought so too. When Cas asked how many friends would be willing to pay for some murals or paintings, she said over twenty five. Castiel and Chuck exchanged excited looks and quickly told the lady that he would be willing to do it.

"Oh, lovely! I will be at 648 Doehunt Road at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Try not to be late, dear," she called back as she walked away.

Castiel high-fived Chuck, a very out of character move, and they got back in the car. He told Chuck to drive him back home, or rather, back to Dean's. He couldn't wait to tell him the good news.

When he walked through the front door he heard Dean in the kitchen, probably making himself a sandwich, knowing him. "Hey, where have you been?" he called.

"Out and about, saw an old friend."

"Did you go see Bobby?" asked Dean tentatively. He didn't really like chick-flick moments, but he knew that Robert Singer was special to Cas. Hopefully he wouldn't cry. Dean didn't think he would be able to handle that.

Castiel forgot how much they had talked and how well they had gotten to know each other within the short time they had met until now. "Yes. I went."

Cas contemplated saying more, but decided against it. He knew how Dean hated anything too emotional, which was sort of silly seeing as they had shared so many emotions already. But it made sense to Cas. Dean was probably feeling pretty insecure about his manhood right now.

"Did you go to work?" Cas asked, after a thoughtful pause.

"Yeah."

Dean would have said more, but he too was deep in thought.

I mean, sure, they had an awesome few days. It had been incredible. Mindblowing. Whatever. But did they actually think this was going to work? Was Cas actually thinking they could live together? Get married? Have a normal life? Dean didn't do normal apple-pie. He was a womanizer, a lady's man. Dean Winchester did not settle down.

This was happening way too fast.

Maybe this was just his mind trying to sabotage his life again. It had a tendency to do that, along with its many other flaws. Maybe he was just feeling guilty. He had come from an amazing day at work. He hadjust left from what was probably the best three days of his life, after all. It was what he did after work that made him feel guilty.

After his lecture, one of his coworkers and a good friend of his, Jo, caught up with him.

"I know that smirk, Dean Winchester. You got laid, didn't you?"

Dean started out on the defensive, but soon relented. Jo could read him like a book, so what was the use of lying? "What? I can't believe you would…Well, yeah."

"Oh my god! Am I the last one on the entire planet you haven't slept with?" she cried at an embarrassing volume as she punched his arm playfully.

Dean just shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. A teacher yelling scandalous things around a college campus was usually frowned upon, and he was getting weird looks.

Jo was not picking up on this, obviously, since she didn't drop the subject or lower her voice, "So who is the unlucky lady?"

"His nam—I mean, she…No one," Dean was really starting to stutter now, and he knew it was only a matter of time until Jo figured out something was up.

She was quicker than he expected, "What? No! Wait, Dean. You can't be serious! You're batting for the other team now? Since when? Are your womanizing days over? Are you full-gay now? I can't believe this!"

She was throwing out questions faster than Dean could eat a hamburger, and it was overwhelming. If Dean didn't get out of this situation fast, he thought his head might explode.

"I am not gay!" he yelled, forgetting where he was. He turned bright red and practically sprinted to his car.

Seeing as how his image of manliness had been pretty much shattered, he was not feeling too cheery. He had to do something to make up for it, but if he went home all he would see is Cas. That stupid nerdy little dude made him a completely different person. All emotional and sweet and sugary. Stupid Cas. He could not go home.

Thinking of Cas just made him feel incredibly guilty. If what he and Cas did wasn't gay, he didn't know what was. He didn't mean to deny his feelings for the guy, but he didn't want people to know about it. Did that mean that he had gone back on his word? He had said that he didn't care who knew, didn't he? More pangs of guilt arose. He was way too far in over his head and didn't know what to do.

He didn't know where to go, exactly. He kept driving though, anywhere. He had to get away his disintegrating self-image. Going to autopilot, he tuned out the world and cranked up the music. Zeppelin would always make him feel like a man, right?

Being on autopilot wasn't always a good idea for someone like Dean, though. His old instincts seemed to have kicked in. He guessed that they recognized the guilt and emotional suppression that they had known for so long, and decided that the old him was back. Pretty soon he found himself outside of one his favorite strip clubs.

"Nothing says manly more than paying some girl to dance on you..." he muttered to himself ashamedly. Knowing he was going to regret it later, he pulled too much money out of his back pocket and walked in.

Now, back in the apartment, he knew that he did regret it. He couldn't tell Cas about it. They were not close enough, and what if he got mad and left? But he couldn't not tell Cas about it. That would be even worse. Dean hated situations like these. He decided to push it to the back of his mind, to the place where all the other things he didn't want to think about went.

"Dean, are you alright?" inquired a worried voice, snapping Dean out of his thoughts and, sadly, back to real life.

"What? Oh, right. What were we talking about?"

"I was about to tell you something important."

Oh no. 'Something important' in Dean's life was never good. He didn't want to know what it was. But he had to. Damn my own curiosity, he thought to himself, exasperated.

"And…?"

"I got a job," he stated. Seeing Dean's confusion, he clarified, "I got a job here."

Here as in Sioux Falls? Well what was such a big deal about that? Dean was about to ask that very question, when it struck him like a ton of bricks. This means that he's staying. This means that we're serious.

"Wait, Cas…"

"Some little old lady offered me a job painting something or other for her."

"Cas."

"I rent a place out if you aren't comfortable with—"

"Cas!" Dean shouted. He was having a very hard time keeping his anxiety in check.

Castiel looked up quickly, blue eyes confused and a bit hurt from being yelled at.

Dean felt guilty, yet again, and softened his voice, "Cas, we don't know where we're going. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," Dean looked down, feeling guiltier all the while, " I just don't know if you staying here is such a good idea. I mean, uprooting your life? For some guy you just met? I don't know if either of us is ready for that…"

Now Castiel was the one letting his emotions get the best of him. His voice was low. Not in that rumbling, attractive way that Dean had grown quite fond of. But this tone was almost scary, like the calm before a storm.

"I am ready for it, Dean. If you are not, don't blame your inability to make a commitment on me. I have never felt this way about anyone. You are not 'some guy I just met,'" he mocked, making air quotes with his fingers. For someone who seemed so sure, he could be very childish.

"I didn't mean it like that, Cas," Dean started, trying to fix his mistake.

"I understand if you need some time to think about this. It is a big change in your life. I will be at the motel."

He walked out, not waiting for an answer. Dean just sat there, dumbstruck. How had everything gone so far south so fast?

He slammed his fist on the table. He was numbly aware of a dull, throbbing pain, but it didn't matter. Dean was far too preoccupied with thinking about how to fix this. Had he really gone and screwed up the one good thing he had going for himself?

He sat motionless in his chair, staring at the empty space where Cas had been minutes before. His posture sagged. He got some whiskey out of the back of his cupboard and poured himself a too-large glass.

He was alone, so he began to think. Everybody knows this is never a good thing, but he thought anyway. Any way he looked at his situation, he wondered the same thing:

Why am I so goddamn self-destructive?