Nothing was different. Not really. Dean still had to take care of Sam. He still had to make sure they were never hungry, but there was a sense of freedom that had been long since abandoned when their mother had died. The whole house seemed lighter with the knowledge of John's prolonged absence. Sam was smiling a bit more, which made Dean full out grin.
It took the entire weekend to clean up the wreckage left over from their father's departure. It was not uncommon for their father to leave a mess in his wake. Granted it was never quite as bad as this, but it still wasn't anything to worry about. John would always go overboard with the alcohol consumption before he'd leave. The longer he was planning to leave for, the more he drank and the bigger the mess.
Considering the amount of destruction, Dean began to wonder if their father was even going to return. The sudden doubt and realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. The responsibility and abandonment was crushing, leaving him breathless, gasping for air.
Sam, studying at the kitchen table, looked up concern written all over his face, "Dean? You okay?"
"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean replied steadily, "Just tired. We should both probably be getting to bed. You know, with school and all tomorrow."
Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he didn't argue, to Dean's relief.
Dean didn't move until he heard Sam brushing his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. He let out a heavy sigh, glancing at the digital clock on the oven. 8:09pm. Well fuck. No wonder Sam had looked so confused. It was pretty early to be going to bed. Dean was just thankful he had such an awesome little brother that trusted him enough not to question him.
Dean was just exiting the kitchen when a bottle of whiskey caught his eye. It was three-quarters of the way full. He was overcome with the intense desire to lose himself in that bottle. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he would end up like John if started drinking his problems away, but the bottle and the amber liquid inside promised something he couldn't refuse.
The sound of the floorboards creaking upstairs made Dean freeze. He couldn't let Sam find out. Sam would be furious, or worse: hurt. The thought of Dean doing something to hurt his brother filled him with sorrow, but that sorrow quickly evaporated when he heard his brother's bedroom door shut. Moving quickly, Dean swiped the bottle of Jack from the counter and bounded up to him room, turning off lights as he went.
"'Night, Sammy," Dean called as he passed Sam's room. The light was still on; he was probably going to read until it got late enough to actually sleep.
"Goodnight, Dean," Sam's muffled yell was barely heard as Dean locked himself in his room.
In the dark of his room, Dean made his way over to his bed, clutching the bottle of whiskey to his chest. He sat with his back against the wall, as he unscrewed the cap. His face screwed up as the scent hit his nose. He wasn't new to alcohol, far from it, in fact. He had gone to parties and gotten drunk like everyone else, but this was different. This wasn't drinking to have fun and relax; this was drinking to run away from his problems. This was self-medication, something he knew better than to indulge in, from experience with his father.
His father who had left Dean to not only raise himself, but little Sammy as well. His father, who despite being a terrible parent, was the only person he grew up to idolise. His father who Dean had to clean up after, fix his mistakes, make sure he ate, make sure he was alive. Dean was tired of having to deal with all the shit his dad threw at him his whole life. So fucking tired. He needed a break.
Fuck it, Dean thought as he took a long swig of whiskey, graciously accepting the burn, and everything it represented.
By the time Dean had drank almost half of the liquid, his head was spinning and his body felt simultaneously light and heavy. All overwhelming thoughts of obligation and rejection were shoved to the far corners of his mind, pushing other repressed ideas to the forefront of his mind. Like Castiel.
Dean's smile was wide and dopey as he thought about his classmate. He had such nice eyes, and a nice nose, and nice skin, and really nice hair, and nice lips. Dean could just imagine those chapped lips pressed softly against his own, dark stubble rubbing against his face. Castiel's moans would be deep and gravelly, more beautiful than his regular voice, Dean decided. Their kisses would slowly morph from chaste and sweet into a desperate clash of teeth and tongue. He could imagine those lips kissing a trail down his body before they wrapped tightly around his cock as those deep blue eyes stared intently into Dean's own green eyes, tongue swirling over his slit.
Dean was completely lost to his musings. He forgot he was supposed to be the perfect straight boy his father always wanted him to be, and he just let go. His father most likely wasn't coming back, so there was no reason to lie to himself and others. He liked boys. It was a simple fact and anyone who didn't like it could fuck right-the-hell off.
Of course, Dean felt differently when he woke up the next morning. His mouth tasted awful and felt all fuzzy, and he was fairly certain his head was seconds away from exploding. It didn't help that Sam was stomping around making every single noise possible as he got ready for school.
"Dean! What the hell! We're going to be late if you don't get a move on!" Sam yelled.
Dean cringed and hid under the covers. He was dying. He had to be. What was he thinking last night? He'd meant it as a rhetorical question, but his mind helpfully supplied him with the fantasies he had created about Castiel. He was going to be sick.
He darted to the bathroom, just making it in time as he emptied his stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet.
"Are you okay?" Sam's nervous voice drifted from the doorway.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a stomach bug," Dean tried to smile, but he felt like he was going to puke again, "Just let me shower then we can go to school."
"Uh unh. No way, Dean. You're sick! I'll just walk. No big deal."
"Sammy, seriously. I'll be fine, just give me two seconds."
"Nope. Bye! See you later!" Sam chirped, dashing down the stairs and out the door.
"Bitch," Dean muttered before passing out on the floor.
It was several hours later when Dean woke up. The acidic taste of vomit was still fresh in his mouth. Wincing he got up, flushing the toilet, proceeding to brush his teeth and use a liberal amount of mouthwash. When that was done, Dean stripped and hopped into the shower, letting a cool spray of water wake and freshen him up.
He used this time to think, as he massaged shampoo into his hair. He didn't regret drinking last night. He was actually kind of glad he had, because he had been free to think how he had wanted, without carrying the guilt of being a disappointment as a son. He liked Castiel. That much was clear, but the other boy didn't seem interested in him in the slightest. He'd actually seemed quite opposed to Dean's presence. Maybe if he revealed his interest, Castiel would give him a chance. It was worth a shot in any case. Besides, if Castiel continued to refuse him, Lisa Braeden was always available.
Not long after his shower, having hidden the evidence of his drunken night, which he had had enough sense to recap before falling asleep, Sam came home. He was grinning from ear to ear, dimples prominent on his cheeks.
"Good day at school?" Dean asked.
"Yes," Sam tried for nonchalance and failed.
"This good mood wouldn't have to do with that girl, would it?" Dean raised his eyebrows suggestively.
"Seriously, Dean, Jess's just a friend," Sam scowled.
"Okay, sure, whatever you say," Dean smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender, "So why are you so happy?"
"I made a new friend," Sam beamed before flushing bright scarlet, "and Jess invited me over Friday night to watch movies and stuff." This last part was said in a rushed mumble, but Dean still heard.
"Aha! I knew it!" Dean crowed patting his brother on the back, "The Winchester charm strikes again!"
"Shut up, Jerk, and don't get so close to me, I don't want to get sick too!" Sam pouted before stalking off into the kitchen to start his homework. What a nerd.
Chuckling, Dean followed, opening the fridge to find something good for him and Sam to eat.
"Whatcha want to eat, Sammy?"
"I swear to God, if you touch my food, I will kill you," Sam threatened.
"Oh, come on. I'm sure if I got you sick, Jess would take care of you. I'm sure she'd make a very sexy nurse," Dean winked.
"Dean!" Sam shrieked, completely scandalised.
Dean just began laughing unable to stop.
"Go away; I'm trying to do homework."
Dean just laughed harder as he went up to his room, snatching a sandwich on his way.
The following days at school did not go as planned. Dean wanted to catch Castiel after class and maybe ask him out, but his resolve quickly crumbled as he took in the beautiful boy a few desks away. Someone like Castiel would never go for someone like Dean. Hell, he wasn't even sure Castiel was gay. For all he knew, Castiel was completely straight and would laugh in Dean's face when he let his interest known. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't deal with the humiliation. That didn't stop him from beating himself up every day because of his cowardice. He didn't know that that was how Castiel was going to act for sure, right?
By the end of the week, Dean's nerves were fried. He'd managed to talk himself out of the idea of Castiel. He didn't need him. What he needed was a beer or seven and maybe some weed. Sam was going to be out all night, so why not take advantage of an empty house.
"Ash! Jo!" Dean called as everyone cleared to hallways, heading home.
"Hey, man, what's up?" Ash asked warmly, putting his science textbook in his locker.
"You guys wanna come over tonight? I feel like getting fucked up and Sammy's gonna be out, so…" Dean trailed off, letting the offer hang open.
"Dude, I'm so there!" Ash replied immediately, "Let's get our party on!"
Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation at her friend, but she had a fond smile on her face as she said, "I'm in."
"Awesome. Just come over whenever. Bring whatever you want. Ash, man, I'm counting on you." Dean pointed at his friend.
"No problemo. I've got plenty to go around."
"Great. See you guys." Dean waved as he headed to his baby.
Quarter to eight brought Jo, Ash and a ton of weed.
"Fuck, you weren't kidding. You really do have enough to go around," Dean grinned, anticipating the high. Ash just shrugged smugly.
They made their way into the den. Dean's arms were full of various bottles of alcohol, as were Jo's. They sat in a circle, spreading the haul out in front of themselves. Jo immediately grabbed a bottle of peach schnapps, while Dean and Ash went about rolling their joints.
Conversation flowed freely and joke after joke were thrown around. Dean was feeling the effects of the weed and booze, and he loved it. He loved being like this, so relaxed with his friends, laughing about nothing. Everything was great and nothing was wrong.
"So," Jo sighed, head in Dean's lap and feet in Ash's, "Lisa Braeden seems pretty into you."
Dean made a noncommittal noise.
"She's pretty hot. Are you gonna go for it?" Jo pried.
"Nah, I don' thinkso," Dean slurred. He was probably the most inebriated of the group as well as the most loosely lipped, "'m into some'ne else."
"Oh, man. Who is it? She hot?" Ash demanded.
"The hottest," Dean smiled slightly.
"But who is she?" Jo wiggled around so she could look directly into Dean's eyes.
"Castiel." Oh fuck. Dean was aware enough that he knew he'd just revealed his biggest secret to his friends. He watched his friend's reactions silently. Ash looked confused, as if he were trying to match a face to the name, but Jo's eyes were wide with surprise.
"Castiel? As in that nerdy little dude in your history class?"
Dean nodded.
"Dean, you didn't even know who he was until a couple weeks ago," Jo reasoned.
"I know, but he's different, n' so, so hot!" He sighed contentedly. So, Jo didn't care that he liked a guy. That was nice.
"Hey, I know that kid! He's fucking smart as hell," Ash rejoined the conversation.
Ash was cool with it, too.
"So, you gonna ask him out?" Jo inquired.
"Nah! He wouldn' wanna go out with me. 'Sides, he's probably straight," Dean took a slow drag from his joint.
"That's not what I've heard," Jo smirked.
"Really?" Dean couldn't hide the hope that was so evident in his voice. To Dean's surprise Ash nodded.
"Yeah, I heard some rumours about him sucking cock in the boys' toilets. Not sure if it's true, but…" Ash shrugged.
Dean's eyebrows drew together as he processed that. He didn't particularly like the image Ash had just conjured up for him, but maybe that explained why Castiel was so upset the other day.
"You should ask him out," Jo insisted, punching him in the arm.
"Owww ! Joanna Beth Harvelle, you 're gonna be single f'r life if you abusive all boys theway y'abuse me," Dean howled, before attacking Jo with tickles. Ash joined in when he was done laughing at the noises Jo was making. They had their fun and two bruised boys and an angry Jo later, they continued to smoke and drink more until they all passed out. All thoughts of Castiel were forgotten.
The rest of the weekend went by in a boring blur. Sam had come home Saturday in time for lunch, and, of course, the kid hadn't even tried to make a move on his friend the entire time he'd been with her. If Sam didn't man up and kiss her or something, she was going to think the younger Winchester was the gay one, something Dean teased his little brother relentlessly about.
"I don't see you with any girls, so you can't talk," Sam had argued to which Dean silently agreed.
Sunday afternoon, Sam asked Dean to take him to the library so he could borrow some lame book or whatever. As much as Dean just wanted to lie around watching T.V. and moping about his love life, or lack thereof, he could never deny his little brother anything. So, that's how he found himself sat outside of the library in his Impala while Sam checked out some book about Faulty Stars or some shit like that.
When Sam returned he began explaining what the book was about–teenage cancer patients falling in love−but Dean wasn't listening. He was too distracted by a mop of dark hair heading towards a gas station. He couldn't tell from this distance, but it looked like Castiel.
"Jess really loved this book. She said it made her cry. I hope it's not too sad, but it's John Green, so I suppose it will be pretty sad. I have readLooking for Alaska and that one didn't seem too bad at the beginning but then…" Sam kept rambling about books and Jess and books Jess liked and disliked as Dean pulled up to the gas pump. He didn't really need gas, but he needed to see if that hair belonged to who he thought it did. He took his time as he went about filling his baby up. As the boy walked into the gas station, Dean couldn't see his face because his head was down, buried in the folds of a trench coat.
When Dean was finished with his Impala, he entered the gas station's little building to pay for his fill up and caught sight of the trench coat boy stashing something in his pocket and turning away from the cashier. It was him! It was Castiel! He hadn't quite caught sight of Dean yet as he made his way to the door. Dean panicked. Should he say 'hi' or just ignore him? What if he said something stupid? He made a split second decision and walked down an aisle full of junk food before rushing to the cashier and quickly paying.
It's now or never, Dean thought as he pushed open the door, determined to talk to Castiel. He looked around, but didn't see the boy. Hunching over in disappointment he walked over to his car, kicking pebbles as he went.
At the sound of voices coming from his car, Dean looked up and froze. Castiel was there, right there, talking to Sam of all people.
Sam was gesturing to the blue book in his hands and Castiel was looking down at him with a patient smile lighting up his face. It was only a slight quirk of his lips, but Dean was sure it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Dean was snapped out of his reverie by Sam waving his arm in Dean's direction. He took this as his cue to approach the pair.
When Castiel looked up at Dean, his eyes widened almost comically. Dean would have thought it funny, if Castiel didn't look so uncomfortable in his presence.
"What's going on here?" Dean tried to sound as cheerful as ever, but Castiel's reaction had hit him hard.
"This is Castiel," Sam said, accurately portraying cheerful.
"I know that. We have classes together," Just one and we never talk "I just didn't realise you two knew each other."
Sam's forehead furrowed in confusion, "I thought I told you Monday. I made a friend."
Ah. He remembered now. He'd been too busy teasing his brother about girls to ask questions about this so-called friend.
"My apologies. I did not realise you were brothers. Goodbye, Sam," Castiel muttered before turning away.
Sam gave Dean a bitch face that seemed to say what did you do? Fix it!
Dean just shook his head, equally bewildered. What had he done? Besides trying to help him when he'd been down. Dean had a million questions he wanted answers to and he wanted them now. He took off on a jog following Castiel.
"Hey! Castiel! Castiel, wait. Cas!" Dean caught up to the other boy, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"What did you just call me?" Castiel's eyebrows knit together and his head tilted to the side. Dean had to stifle a smile with his hand as he took in what had to be the most adorable expression he had ever seen.
Shit! Castiel had asked him something, "Uh, what?" Smooth, Dean, real smooth.
"You called me 'Cas'"
"Did I? Oh sorry, man. If you don't like it, I'll just keep calling you Castiel, 'kay?"
"Is there a reason you have your hand on me?" Castiel ignored Dean's question, staring pointedly at the hand perched on his shoulder.
"Did I do something?" Dean mirrored Castiel's question for a question technique.
"What do you mean?" Another question.
"Have I done something to offend you? Because every time I try to talk to you, you run away."
"Why are you trying to talk to me?"
Now or never, he reminded himself, "'Cause," deep breath, "I like you," Dean blurted, removing his hand from Cas to rub his neck awkwardly. He shifted his eyes slightly to the right of Castiel to avoid the look of disgust he was sure to receive.
Cas didn't say anything. He just kept staring at Dean, disbelief painting his features.
Dean took another deep breath before repeating himself, "I really like you, Cas. I've been wanting to ask you out, but, you know." It was clear Castiel had no idea what he was talking about, but Dean let it go. Even he wasn't sure what he was really saying.
"You're straight," Castiel finally said.
"Um, not so much," Dean revealed.
Cas still looked unsure. Sighing, Dean took the other's hand in his, ignoring the way he flinched when their hands connected, "I'm not messing around, Cas. Trust me."
Silence filled the air between them and Dean found himself getting lost in those damn blue eyes again.
"Can I at least give you a ride home?" Dean released his hold on Castiel and immediately missed the touch.
Castiel hesitated before nodding, following Dean to his car.
"Backseat, kiddo," Dean told Sam as Cas came around to the passenger's side.
Sam wasted no time, glad to have his new friend riding with them. Dean was glad too, because even if he'd been rejected, he'd made some progress and that was worth everything.
