Part VI
So Close

Dean Winchester was an avid Chuck Norris fan.

Castiel would go so far as to call it a man crush. It seriously baffled him how adamant Dean became when Castiel had tried, and epically failed, to know who was Chuck Norris. Somehow he had gotten him confused with Jackie Chan, which apparently was really insulting and Castiel didn't have the foggiest idea why it was such a mistake. Castiel never watched movies, so he simply didn't understand Dean's obsession.

"It's more than just the movies, Cas!"

Raising dark brows, Castiel reclined against his torn up sofa and sipped at a beer recovered from the depths of his fridge. He waved the bottle at Dean in a silent urging for the detective to go on - regale him with the marvels of Chuck Norris.

"Man, he's won martial arts tournaments - hell, he even started his own type called Chun Kuk Do! Dude, the guy even knows Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu."

Castiel shrugged indifferently, then hid a smile behind another tip of the bottle when Dean nearly pulled out his hair in frustration. It was greatly amusing to rile up the detective. He got all flustered, his eyes turned a vibrant shade of jade, and the growl in the man's words made Castiel's groin tighten and his imagination flicker with snap shots of a darkened room and bodies moving against one another while glistening with sweat.

"I like.. " Castiel raked his mind for the name of any actor on tv, considering he only watched nature shows his choices were limited. He could no doubt win the animal alphabet game, but recalling the names of humans was strangely difficult. "Steve Irwin."

"Who the fuck is Steve Irwin?"

"He was a big conservationist in Australia. Had this show called the Crocodile Hunter. Totally wrestled crocodiles, can Chuck Norris take on an eighteen foot saltwater crocodile?"

Dean stared at him for a long moment, "Who.. the fuck.. goes around wrestling crocodiles?"

"He was saving them."

"By wrestling them?"

"Bah," Castiel waved Dean's argument aside while moving to rise. He only made it half-way before Dean shoved him back down.

"Na-uh. You're not moving until you've been educated on the bad assery that is Chuck Norris."

Castiel was disinclined to argue, especially when the detective sat next to him - close enough that that their thighs nearly brushed - and he leaned forward to set up the lap top he had brought. Castiel nibbled on his lower lip as he stole a glance at the way Dean's tucked shirt strained from beneath the belted waistband of gray slacks. Silently he prayed for the fabric to spill free and allow him a glimpse of skin—

"One time Chuck Norris stared a man to death."

Castiel rapidly blinked, righting his gaze as Dean sat up to smirk at him. It took a moment for his mind to tune back in on what had been said. Instantly his brow furrowed, "That's impossible."

"What? - no. They're... they're Chuck Norris Facts," Dean's brows raised as he curiously searched Castiel's expression.

"It cannot be a fact, because a man cannot be stared to death."

"Jesus Cas, they're all over the internet. You know, like ghosts sit around the campfire and tell Chuck Norris stories, or Death once had a near-Chuck Norris experience. He can slam a revolving door, count to infinity twice? I figured an introvert like you would have known them."

Castiel nervously picked at the label on his drink, "I don't have internet."

This fact seemed to stump Dean, "The hell do you do then?"

A glance was stolen toward the book still strew across the floor near the broken shelves. Dean was quick to follow the motion, taking in the mountain of novels before settled a look on Castiel. A look that made the forensic specialist want to retreat to his room because it was the same kind of look he use to get in high school. The one the jocks would pin on him before commenting what nerd he was - like it was a social sin to enjoy reading.

"Right, you read, I should have guessed."

"What are you reading?"

Castiel froze as a hand descended to anchor against the table in front of him. The owner of said hand leaned over Castiel's shoulder, trying to glance at the cover of the book he held. Castiel's blue eyes were bugged as he stared openly at the junior crowding him at the school library table. Nick was two years older than Castiel, but had been held back a great because of delinquency. He played on the varsity basketball team, and was in what Castiel would call the popular crowd and was rumored to be a trouble-maker. The latest rumor was that Nick had gotten picked up for being a minor in possession of alcohol and when he was getting booked, had jokingly claimed his alias was Lucifer.

His friends had started calling him Lucifer as a joke, but then the name had stuck.

Nick's pale eyes met his own and Castiel stumbled for words. In the end, as he failed to say a single coherent sentence, Castiel flipped his book closed so that Lucifer could read the title for himself.

"Mm, it any good?"

Was that a trick question? Castiel searched Lucifer's expression for sign of ruse, even going so far as to glance past the Junior to see if any of his buddies were lurking nearby to burst into laughter at Castiel's expense. Castiel's fingers nervously picked at the worn cover of the crime novel. It was good, so good that he was stealing away from his study hall to read it. Instead of voicing this to Lucifer, Castiel's gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's just a book."

"Is that so," Nick smiled as he spoke the three words, effortlessly winding amusement in his tone. "I was hoping you might be able to recommend to me a good book to pass the time."

"M-me?"

"Yes you," So simple put. "I see you in here a lot, figured you'd know best."

Castiel's lips worked around half-formed thoughts. Some were panicked ideas of trying to deny he spent a lot of time in the library. Others were pulling forth various titles he thought might appeal to the Junior. Then there was the cynical part of him that wanted to jest that he didn't know Lucifer could read. Jocks weren't known for their intelligence.

"So.. " The confidence Lucifer had been emitting cracked just a bit, allowing the thread of nervousness peek through in the half second it took for Lucifer to advert his gaze. When his pales eyes returned to Castiel, they were once more relaxed and at perfect ease. "You going to help me out, or what?"

"S-sure, I guess." Still feeling a bit dumbfounded, Castiel reached for his book bag to pull out a notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. "What kind of books do you like?"

"Aside from The Anarchist Cookbook?"

Judging by the crooked grin on Lucifer's face, Castiel assumed that was meant as a joke. He gave an unsure smile in return. It was with unsteady fingers that he retrieved a pen and jotted down the first book he could remember that might perk Lucifer's interest. 'To End All Wars: A Story of Loyalty and Rebellion' by Adam Hochschild. He tore the page out of his notebook and handed it to the older boy.

Much to Lucifer's surprise, "That easy, huh?"

Castiel fiddled with his pen, at a loss for what he should say in response.

"Thanks Castiel."

The sophomore felt his face heat up in irrational embarrassment. The guy knew his name. They weren't even in the same grade and in completely different crowds (hell Castiel wasn't even in crowd being the loner that he was) and it just floored him that Lucifer knew his name. Brain numbed by awe, Castiel replied out of polite habit, "You're welcome."

"The name's Nick," Lucifer held out his empty hand.

"Lucifer," Castiel joked, another uneasy smile as he attempted to sound more suave than he was - show that he wasn't always lost to the charms of a book. He had heard all about Nick's new nickname.

There was a strange twist to Lucifer's smile that made Castiel feel guilty about repeating the nickname. "Yeah.. that too, but feel free to call me Nick."

Castiel wasn't sure which name was more of a privilege to say. He bobbed his head in a nod, "Okay... Nick."

"Thanks again," Lucifer said in parting as he lifted the notebook page in emphasis. He turned toward the tall shelves, "I'll see you around."

"Yo, Earth to Castiel - come in Major Tom?"

Flinching, Castiel snapped out of his daze when he registered the hand waving in front of his face. Castiel felt the heat rise up his neck and curl in his cheeks well before he dared a side-long glance at Dean. "Erm, sorry."

"You alright?"

Castiel nodded before hastily taking another swig of his beer.

Dean narrowed his eyes, appearing doubtful, but didn't pick at it. Instead he gestured at the opening scene of the movie playing on the laptop. "You're missing out on the good stuff."

"Sorry," Castiel voiced for a second time and firmed his attention on the screen. A glance at the nearby DVD case revealed the title of the movie: Code of Silence. Above the title was a name in bold white lettering: Chuck Norris. Castiel didn't feel very optimistic about being convinced that this Norris guy was the master of the impossible, but he figured he would buckle down and pay attention to the movie if only because Dean was so interested in it.

It quickly became obvious why Dean liked the movie - and maybe idolized it when he was younger. Perhaps it even first inspired Dean to become a cop. It featured Chuck Norris as a streetwise officer that takes down a crime lord. Eddie Cusack, as the character is called, is a certainly portrayed as what Dean referred to as a bad ass - coming out on top under impossible odds. What Castiel finds most interesting about the character was he was an officer that broke the code of silence by speaking out against a corrupt officer.

Castiel never learned what happened to Eddie Cusack as he was pinned down in a warehouse by Comacho gang members, running low on ammo and the antagonist was on the verge of killing the female co-star. He never learned because even though the action was reaching a climax, Castiel's eyelids had become heavy and slowly but surely he nodded off. After nearly forty-eight hours of being awake, Castiel felt relaxed enough to sleep.

Two things woke him a few hours later. The first thing to stir his conscious was the music of his alarm drifting down the hallway from his bedroom. The noise faint, but Castiel had spent over a year conditioning himself to wake up to music instead of blaring beeps that seemed geared more toward giving him a heart attack than rousing him from sleep.

The second factor was the blind sensation of something being very close to his face. Castiel wearily let his eyes slit open, a hint of blue visible between dark lashes, and took in the object. A furry white face of the kitten came into focus, and as if sensing the attention the thing began to purr. It moved forward to sniff at Castiel's fluttering lashes, tickling Castiel's face with its long whiskers. Castiel groaned in dismay and squirmed to bury his face into his pillow.

His arm wrapped around the rather round shape of his pillow. It was a mixture of soft and firm beneath his touch, and as Castiel groggily registered how warm it felt pressed up against his face, his pillow flexed. Castiel stilled and his mind reeled. His eyes had snapped wide open and he stared at the faint reflection he could see on the dark surface of the laptop. Dean was there, slouched against the back of the couch with his head tilted back against the rest and his arms stretched out along the back. Then there was Castiel..

His pillow, which he still had his arm nestled around and the side of his face pressed against, was nothing other than Dean's thigh.

He should move. He really, really, should extract himself from the detective, but at the same time Castiel was certain any sudden movements would jar the man awake and then the whole situation would turn ten different shades of awkward. Castiel wondered who had fallen asleep first, because there was no way that either of them agreed to the current position.

Castiel slowly drew his hand away from where he had tucked it around and beneath Dean's thigh. In response Dean stirred, his legs widening in such a fashion that mad Castiel's throat tighten. He pressed his hand against the inside of Dean's thigh to calm the man, hoping the replacement of the touch would stop him from waking up and discovering Castiel's head and hand were well past the friend zone.

Of course, once Castiel reflected on where he was, a stir of curiosity made him hesitant to vacate the arrangement. What if he..

Castiel slowly inched his fingers up along the inside of Dean's thigh with pressure just enough to be felt. Dean's head rolled against the back of the couch and the man's leg nudged encouragingly against Castiel's weight. It was tempting, more than so. Castiel had to clamp down on the inside of his lip to restrain the desire to let his fingers wander further up the muscular thigh. This was wrong, he told himself. Dean was asleep and what Castiel was doing.. it was.. was it molestation?

Suddenly there was a blast of Metallica and a violent vibrating beneath Castiel and out of sheer surprise his hand tightened just short of Dean's crotch. The semi-grope elicited a heavy exhale from Dean that was on the cusp of a throaty groan that hinged on a sharp inhale. Castiel's lips parted in response as he was struck with the desire to better the position of his hand to make the noise come out stronger, louder. Make it match with the steady thump of pulse Castiel felt resounding low in his abdomen.

The object in Dean's pocket vibrated again and it was with a curse that Dean shifted to retrieve his phone. He didn't push Castiel away, even if it would have been easier to get to his phone if he had. Castiel watched through the reflection on the laptop as the man put the phone to his ear while rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Winchester."

Undistinguishable words came from the phone, male in origin, and whatever he was saying Dean heavily sighed in response.

"Can this wait until later, Sam?"

Dean dropped his hand away from his eyes, lifting his head off the back of the couch to take in the sight of Castiel nuzzled against his thigh. The dark haired specialist did his best not to tense up, but he felt his shoulders firm all the same as he waited for a volatile reaction. Belatedly Castiel realized that Dean could probably see that his eyes were open. Shit, shit.

"They did? When?" Dean sat up, settling a hand on Castiel's shoulder to gently shake him. "Get up Cas."

Despite being relieved at Dean's subdued reaction, Castiel quickly withdrew and sat rigid. The next moment he was on his feet, rubbing at his own eyes as he made for the kitchen to start the coffee.

"Hm?" Dean was still talking to Sam, "Yeah he's here... What? No, I came over to check on him last night and fell asleep on his couch. Huh? ...Yeah, I guess I can do that - what's the address?"

Castiel was measuring out fresh grounds when Dean slipped up next to him. He caught Castiel's hand mid-scoop, "We'll pick coffee up on the way. We need to go."

Only aware of the warm waft of Dean's breathe against the side of his neck, Castiel couldn't think clearly enough to ask questions. He obeyed, putting the canister away and retreating to his bedroom to get dressed. It wasn't until they were sitting in the Impala that Castiel blinked and turned a puzzled blue-eye look on the detective. "Where are we going?"

"Work," Dean's lips quirked upward in a lazy grin.

"Oh."

Dean chuckled from the other side of the car, "You're one of those people that needs coffee to wake up, aren't you."

"It helps," Castiel disputed Dean's amused tone with a frown.

"So when are you going to notice I'm not driving toward the precinct?"

The frown deepening, Castiel turned to gaze out the window and take in the street names. "...Oh."

"Sam thinks they might have found Kaila, the missing girl."

Instantly Castiel became more alert, but his vocabulary still was suffering. "Oh?"

"Yeah, we're headed to the suspect's house now, Sam said I should bring you along."

"Oh."

"Oh, he says, geez Cas, I'll swing through the next starbucks, okay?"

Castiel didn't understand what was so offending about his responses. It's not like he needed to say anything at all. The soft ohs were more of his way of letting Dean know he had been heard and understood. Instead of voicing another oh or ah, Castiel grunted in acknowledgement. He wouldn't argue that caffeine would help. As Dean turned into the next drive-thru for coffee, Castiel suddenly sat upright and pinned Dean with a wide-eye look.

The detective arched a brow, "What?"

"I forgot to feed Lucifer."

"Who?"

"The cat."

"You named the cat after the Devil."

Castiel's mouth opened to respond with no, he had named it after his ex-boyfriend, but in the end he thought better of blurting that piece of information. He cleared his throat, but it did little to erase the graveled way his words came out, "It seemed appropriate."

"Do you realize it's a girl cat?"

Castiel snorted, "I didn't care to verify its gender."

"You can't call her Lucifer."

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't. You need to name it snowball, angel, or mittens."

Castiel resumed his frown, "I am not a ten year old girl, Dean."

"Well then call her Lucy."

Sighing in defeat - it was much too early in the morning for these silly debates - Castiel resolved to let Dean think he had come out the victor in the conversation. It didn't matter what the cat's name was because it wasn't going to be staying long. Castiel propped an elbow against the door and stared out the window while his mind played out horrors of what he would find upon returning home to the devilish kitten.

"How about.. White Lightning."

Needlessly to say, Castiel ordered an extra two shots of espresso that morning.

Things to Know:
1.) I heart Jackie Chan and Steve Irwin, no disrespect meant.
2.) In one episode, Dean and Sam were arguing about who was the bigger badass; Chuck Norris or Jet Li.
3.) Someone tell Lucifer this is a Destiel story, not Casifer. I let him in and he tries to take over!
4.) It had been my desire for a while now to write a High School AU after my current stories. Now I'm tempted to write a back story of how Castiel and Lucifer met and wound up together. KILL THE PLOT BUNNIES.