A/N: I know this was a long time coming. Writers block hit me like a bitch and I felt like I wrote myself into a wall, but here it is... all 10K of it. Not really sure how I feel about this chapter, but it's done, and I hope that the next one will come easier. There should be 2 more and then the epilogue. And I wanna thank those who have followed and favorited this fic... Especially since it's lay dormant for so long. It really means a lot to me.
Chapter Fourteen
Confess My Heart and Forgive My Wrongs
Castiel, feeling Dean stiffen in his arms, automatically dropped them to his sides and backed away. He couldn't fight the flush that overcame him and he couldn't stand the awkwardness that began to grow between the two of them. So he helped Dean out of his jacket and held it. Once again, they stood there; both avoiding each other's attempts at making eye contact.
Coughing nervously, Castiel muttered, "follow me," and headed down the hall to his bedroom. He could hear Dean following close behind – not that he would have expected him to do otherwise. Castiel motioned toward the bed once they'd reached the room. Dean stepped toward the bed and sat down. Castiel closed the door quietly, pressing his forehead to the cool wood, before turning around.
He leaned back against the closed door, staring at his feet, clutching the soft black leather of Dean's jacket to his chest. He inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent that was Dean. Old worn leather blended with musk, patchouli, sage, mahogany, and something softer that he couldn't pinpoint.
"I'm not the one who's been running, Cas." The bed squeaked as Dean shifted his weight trying to get comfortable. "Though I have to admit I'm kinda curious why you're asking me to stay when you look like you're about to run out the damn door any minute now. Would you at least step away from the door, for God's sakes?"
Shuffling away from the door, on command, Castiel sat down on the bed. Dean sat facing the door while Castiel sat at the opposite end facing the bathroom door, making sure to be at the very edge. The mattress jostled as Dean stood up, and then dipped when he sat down again – beside Castiel.
"You scare me," Castiel whispered. He felt Dean stiffen as the words filled the air. "You scare me because of the conflict you cause between my head and my heart.
"I have to run from you, for reasons I can't tell you about right now, and for reasons I may not ever be able to tell you about. I have to run from you because I don't have it in me to be selfish, or to hurt others the way I've been hurt.
"You scare me, Dean… because you make me want to be selfish. You make me want to tell you all those things. I look at you and I want you to be the one to help me fix them. But I can't." The feel of a comforting hand rubbing his back broke the barricade he had built. Tilting to the side, he let Dean hold him as he held the jacket. He felt embarrassed by the tears and by the way his body shook from the force from which they came. But, damn, if it didn't feel good.
"Where is all this coming from?" Dean whispered in reply, hand traveling up from Castiel's back to his hair, playing with the strands. "Ain't Benny gonna be jealous of you confessing your love to another man? 'Cause, to be honest, that man scares the ever living shit out of me."
Castiel looked up at Dean from under his wet lashes, unable to stop the smile that began to tug at his lips when he saw Dean's. "You're such a dumbass."
Wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, Dean's expression grew serious. "That still doesn't answer my question."
"There isn't anything to answer. I'm not confessing my love to you. I miss you. I miss your friendship, I miss… everything, I suppose." He leaned back against Dean's arm as he stretched. "And if I have to tell you one more damn time that Benny and I aren't together, I just might consider the idea of dating him. Since, according to everyone else, we already are anyway."
He couldn't help but smirk as a flash of anger sparked in Dean's eyes, even if it was just for a minute moment. Moving in closer to the man, he couldn't hold back the yawn any longer. At that moment, he nearly fell sideways onto the bed when his prop unexpectedly disappeared, but was caught when he was scooped up off the bed by Dean.
Looking up into Dean's eyes, he found himself unable to stop from searching them; he dropped the jacket to the floor and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. He never broke their gaze as Dean laid him down on bed. And, he never broke their gaze as Dean lay down beside him, lifting the comforter over them to keep away the chill.
"I'm not having sex with you, Winchester, so just get that thought out of your head ri – " Castiel broke off as a yawn took over, "ght now."
Warm arms pulled him closer, chest to chest. "It's not always about sex, Cas. Now go to sleep," he whispered into Castiel's ear. But before the younger could argue, he was swathed in the sweetest, most melodious voice.
You arrive along with the sun
Where have you been darlin'? What have you done?
You were out finding trouble again
There's a fire in your eyes and there's blood on your hands
He couldn't help but think of the two months that had passed since they'd last spoken. How could he have been so self-centered and not questioned Dean? He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a finger placed on his lips.
Come inside and lie down to sleep
You ain't gonna run and you know that you're beat
Rest awhile, they're coming for you
There's a price to be paid for the things that we do
Fall asleep and forget all your troubles
Dream of laughter and old friends and lovers
Dream of when you were innocent
Dream forever
Tears pooled along the edges of his eyes once again. The tension in his chest felt constricting. How could a song make him feel like this? Why did it feel like Dean was looking into the depths of his soul, as if he knew him?
He wanted to lean into Dean, feel and familiarize himself with those cupid bow lips once again. But his body had a different plan in store for him.
He fought to keep his eyes open but the sleepless nights he'd been battling had finally caught up to him. Dean ended that war.
Lord knows you've been 'round in your day
But this kind of trouble, won't just go away
Darlin', now you're adrift in the deep
So just lay down your head and I'll sing you to sleep
Balling his hand into Dean's shirt and whispering "stay," Castiel sighed as sleep overtook him. As his body went lax, Dean pried Castiel's fingers from his shirt.
Holding him tightly, Dean drifted into a light slumber, his head resting atop a pillow of black.
Castiel woke up with a groan, pulling the comforter over his head. I really need to change those damn blinds, he thought, as he hid away from the blinding light. It was as he came fully conscious that he remembered last night. Pressing himself up with the palm of his hands, the comforter still blanketing him, he looked over to see the other side of the bed empty. Collapsing and kicking the comforter to the floor, he sat up and looked around his room for signs of life.
There was nothing.
No sounds coming from the bathroom, no note on the bedside table, just… nothing.
Getting out of bed and stumbling into the living room, he found Kevin at his usual location – the kitchen table. His normally weary eyed roommate seemed to be more alert this morning, and he questioned him about his current disposition.
"Got a few hours' sleep last night, but I was up early enough to see a certain someone slip out." Kevin winked at him before looking back at his laptop. "So, what happened between you two last night." It came out as more of a statement rather than a question.
"Nothing happened," Castiel grumbled as he made his way to the kitchen, cursing at the cold pot of the coffee. Dumping the brown sludge into the sink, coffee grinds and filter into the trash, he set about making a new pot.
"Mmm hmm, 'course nothing happened. We all know when someone says 'nothing happened,' it usually means something happened. I also saw the look on Dean's face, so spill it. What happened?" Kevin inquired, appearing beside him.
Castiel leaned over the percolating brew, as if he could inhale the caffeine from the stem. When he had deemed there was enough for a cup, he grabbed a mug and filled it. He disregarded his usual cream and sugar, deciding to drink it black.
"And sometimes when someone says 'nothing happened,' it usually means that NOTHING HAPPENED!" he snapped, stepping around Kevin and heading toward his room.
Stopping at the entrance to the hallway that led to their rooms, he kept his back to Kevin as he asked, "What time did Dean leave?"
"6," the response came, coolly.
"Oh. What time is it now?"
"12," Kevin replied, the response almost smug, this time.
He waited a moment before whispering "oh," and sheepishly shuffling to his room.
Taking a small sip, he remembered how disgusting black coffee was.
So focused on forcing himself to keep the drink down, he completely ignored the jacket on the floor.
So lost in thought on how people could possibly drink this filth, he completely ignored the pillow that somehow landed on his bedside table.
So distracted with heading to the bathroom to dump out the offending brew, he completely missed the piece of paper that had fallen and somehow made its way safely under his bed.
Castiel ended up doing what he did best – ignoring his problems.
He felt betrayed by the fact that Dean had left when all he had asked of him was to stay. Was it that selfish of a thing to ask?
Of course he recognized the fact that Dean had never said that he would stay, but he had left his jacket… so that was a good sign. At least, he thought it was a good sign.
So, why was he ignoring Dean's calls and texts? Why was he avoiding him when he came into Shot? Why was he hiding when he saw Dean waiting for him outside the apartment? It was even worse when he waited at the bus stop.
Kevin had sworn he had never given out Castiel's schedule, but the fact that his roommate wouldn't meet his eyes gave him some doubt.
It was the last Monday of February when Dean finally caught him.
He had just exited his first class of the day when he was jerked, rather unceremoniously, by the elbow and around the corner. Swinging his backpack at his assumed assailant, the pack was caught and thrown to the floor. His next course of action was to run but, apparently that was too obvious. The hold on his arm tightened.
As he was pulled closer, "Would you stop it already?" was hissed in his ear. The voice was familiar, very pissed, and knee weakeningly deep. Looking up at Dean, Castiel's urge to run increased. It was also joined with the need to punch the shit out of the taller man. He decided to choose the latter since his earlier attempt at the previous had failed.
Either he had become rather predictable or the other had become psychic.
Dean caught Castiel's fist, and brought both of their arms up, forcing Castiel's against the wall. Moving in closer, Dean pressed his chest against Castiel's. Only instead of looking intimidated, Castiel smirked at the feel of something else pressing against him.
"Didn't know you liked it rough, Winchester. I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time I go gift shopping for you," Castiel said cheekily with a wink. His next remark was lost when he noticed how close their faces were. So close, in fact, that while glaring at each other, Castiel could make out the flecks of gold in the other man's eyes.
He hadn't noticed that Dean was pulling away until the pressure was gone from his chest and the other's warmth began to fade. Dammit, can't you pay attention for at least three seconds, he inwardly cursed as he chased after Dean, leaving his backpack behind.
Catching up was the easy part, getting Dean to stop – not so easy. Finally sick of trying to talk him into stopping, Castiel decided just to take matters into his own hands. Jumping onto Dean's back, he wrapped his arms and legs around him, holding on for dear life. When Dean finally stopped, Castiel continued to hold on just in case.
"What the fuck was that about?! First, you practically give me a heart attack and then you ignore me! Seriously Dean, I'm getting mixed signals here." His irritation started to melt away as Dean began to walk with him still latched on. "So, you're just gonna keep ignoring me now?"
Silence.
"Well, could you at least stop so I could get off?" All he got in a reply was a snort at the innuendo, which wasn't helped by the fact that his cock was rubbing against Dean's back. Castiel decided to keep his mouth shut and let Dean carry him across campus to where ever it was they were going.
Dean stopped at the back of his truck, which he'd parked at an off-campus parking lot, and lowered the tailgate before turning around and prying Castiel off of him. Not giving him a chance to escape, Dean turned around and climbed onto the bed of the truck, pressing Castiel down.
"You wanna talk about mixed signals? You text me in the middle of the goddamn night – Valentine's night, if you wanna get exact– to tell me that you wanna go back to being 'friends.' I'm not sure what it means to be friends in your book, but the last time I checked, friends don't exactly ignore each other for damn near two weeks! Hell, if that were the case, we've been friends since fucking December!"
Castiel gulped.
He'd never seen this side of Dean before, not that he'd known the man for very long. But, he did know that Dean would never hurt him so he pushed aside his fear. "Technically, it wasn't Valentine's night. And I think I have every right to be pissed! You just up and left without saying a word. You could have left a message with Kevin, left a note. Hell, you could have even woken me up and TOLD me you were leaving. But no, you just fucking left. Just like everyone else fucking does."
Castiel didn't realize that he'd shed any tears until he felt a thumb swipe across his cheek tenderly. Dean had let up on his grip, allowing them both to sit up. Dean went and perched on the tailgate while Castiel sat crossed legged on the bed, facing him.
"I did leave a note, Cas. Right there on the pillow. It said I had to get home or else Lisa'd be pissed, but I'd try and get in touch with you later." Dean's voice had lost the venom it had held just moments ago. "I figured you had changed your mind when you started ignoring me."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean sheepishly stared at the ground. "I didn't wanna wake you 'cause you looked like you needed the sleep, and Kevin well… you're right. I guess I could have said something to him."
"Ya think?" Castiel sighed and rubbed his face, embarrassed by the heat radiating from his cheeks. "But I guess I could have been less of an asshole and at least talked to you." Sighing again and unfolding his legs, he scooted forward to sit beside Dean. "Did you really leave a note?"
Dean nodded before speaking. "You know, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you." Castiel tilted his head and pressed his knee against Dean's. "Why did you text me?" Dean continued, "There had to be more to it than just that talk. So spill it."
"It was the key." This time it was Dean's head that tilted, mostly upward and with squinted eyes, which looked so hilarious that Castiel couldn't help but laugh. "To the truck. The key to the truck."
At Dean's further look of confusion, Castiel withdrew a set of keys, which were attached to his Grumpy Cat keychain, from his pocket. He sifted through them until letting out an "ah ha," and held up the key in question. "The key you apparently gave me for Christmas."
"Oh that key."
"Yes, that key." Castiel shoved his keys back in his pocket. "Benny showed me the truck that night and hinted that you were the one that fixed it up. I hadn't realized that you'd given me the key until that night, and I'd wanted to thank you. Guess I never got around to it. So um… thank you."
Dean shrugged and then furrowed his eyebrows. "You hadn't opened the box until that night!? Oh my God… Cas, seriously," he shoved him playfully. "But you're welcome, I guess."
Castiel opened his mouth to respond but floundered before speaking. "Well, while this has been fun, I've really gotta get to class… and my backpack." Castiel indicated with his thumb the direction of the building they'd come from, smirking.
"Why don't you grab your pack and play hooky with me? We could go take the truck for a spin, since you're apparently too chicken shit to drive it."
Castiel jumped down from the truck and headed around to the passenger door. "One: I'm not playing hooky with you. Two: It's not 'playing hooky' if you're the boss. Three: I can't be scared to drive it if I can't actually drive it."
Dean followed, unlocking the passenger door for Castiel before heading to the driver's side. "Yes you are, yes it is, and what the fuck are you talking about? You have the key. You can drive the damn thing whenever you fucking want to." Dean unlocked his door, and turned to stare at Castiel as they both got seated.
"No, I can't, Dean."
"Yes, you can, Cas."
"NO, I can't, Dean."
"YES, you can, Cas."
Throwing his arms up in the air, exasperated, Castiel finally gave up. "I can't drive a fucking stick shift. Okay? So go ahead, laugh." Looking out the window, waiting for the sound of the endless mocking he knew would be coming, he was surprised when it never came.
"You didn't think about asking me to teach you?" The truck rumbled to life as they headed toward the building they'd left earlier. "I'm not that bad of a teacher, and my price is pretty cheap."
Castiel turned to look at Dean, shocked. He couldn't understand why the man beside him wasn't mercilessly teasing him. "Oh, and what's the price, my left kidney?"
"Nope, I just want my jacket back." They came to a stop at the building where this whole mess had started. Dean put the truck in the park and waited for Castiel to get out. When his passenger made no indication of doing so, he reached over and opened the door himself. "Well?"
"Well, it's kind of a shame. I kinda like that jacket way too much now." Castiel escaped the truck and took off running towards the building.
He made the rest of his classes that day with his backpack – and Dean's jacket.
Dean and Castiel were in the parking lot of an abandoned building early one March morning. Castiel sat in the driver's seat of the truck looking nervous. Dean looked pretty damn confident. Maybe too confident for Castiel's taste.
"Okay Cas, let's get you used to the clutch. First off, do you know where the clutch is?" Dean asked sincerely, only to be met with a "no shit" look from Castiel. "Alright smarty pants, what about the different gears?"
Once again Dean was met with the same expression, then a sarcastic "1, 2, 3, 4, R."
"And where's neutral?" Dean asked coolly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Castiel looked at the stick, his head tipped to the side, as if the damned thing would suddenly blurt out the answer for him. When Dean finally broke the silence with a cough, Castiel finally had to admit defeat. He didn't know.
Dean had to fight the smirk that wanted to break out across his face. Taking control of the stick, he wiggled it, indicating that it was in the center. He then raised an eyebrow to his student, as if saying that that was neutral. Castiel rolled his eyes with a huff.
"Now that we have that part covered, can you show me how you'd go through all the gears?" Dean moved his hand away, took Castiel's and placed it on the knob of the stick. "C'mon, show me what you know."
Sliding his hand down and looking at the layout on the knob, Castiel gripped it tight and pushed it left and upward. Looking up at Dean, who nodded and waved him to continue, Castiel pulled the stick down toward him. Biting his bottom lip nervously, he looked up at Dean once again, this time his eyes pleading for help.
Dean shook his head and chuckled, instructing him to push it upwards and toward the center. Once Castiel had done that, he pulled the stick back, figuring that must be the next gear. Shifting to the right and up, he slipped the truck into fifth gear. When he went to pull the stick into reverse Dean stopped him, letting him know they'd go over that later, and placed the stick back into neutral.
"Start her up."
Castiel looked at Dean as if he'd just asked him to move to Mars to live with alien monkeys. "What do you mean 'start her up'? I'm not ready to drive this thing yet!"
"Who said anything about driving her? Sheesh Cas, stop over reacting so much. Now like I said, start her up." Dean leaned back and watched as Castiel turned the key. The truck mocked the blue eyed man by failing to crank. Castiel tried three times before Dean finally stopped him and pointed to the clutch.
Glaring, yet blushing, Castiel pushed the clutch in and turned the key. The engine roared to life and he felt his heart pound at the sound. He had never been one to care for the sound of engines. In fact, he hated the obscene noise they created. But this – this time it was different. This was his – this was his Baby that created that sound.
"Um, Dean… can I let go of the clutch and press the brake now?"
Castiel heard the seat rub against Dean's jeans as he moved closer and removed Castiel's hand from the key. "Take your foot off the clutch, but don't press the brake." Dean brought Castiel's hand down to the lever, which was inclined, by the stick shift. "This is your hand brake. Whenever the truck is parked and not in use, make sure you have this up. When you need to come to a complete stop, press the clutch and the brake at the same, okay? After you've started the truck, press the clutch, shift into first gear, then release the hand brake."
Castiel listened and followed all of Dean's instructions regarding his driving lesson. Oh and it was hard.
Every time he heard gears grinding or he stalled out, Castiel just wanted to get out the truck and walk away.
But he couldn't.
He didn't know how to park the damn truck yet, and it was his only way back home. Also, Dean wasn't going to let him give up yet.
The sun was starting to set when they called it quits for the day. The two men lay on the bed of the truck, Dean with his arms over his eyes; Castiel had his head pillowed by his. He still needed a few more lessons before he'd feel comfortable enough to drive alone, so they'd planned on doing this again in a couple of days. But, for right now, Castiel watched the sky as its mixtures of blues and pinks formed streaks of purple in the sky.
"Dean, I've been meaning to ask you… why have you been doing all this?" Castiel didn't need to look in Dean's direction; he could feel his eyes on him. He was surprised though when the reply came a bit closer than he'd expected.
"Why have I been doing all of what?" Dean's breath ghosted his ear, causing a shiver to run up Castiel's spine.
"All of this. Fixing the truck," he kept looking up as he unfolded his arms and rubbed his hand over the metal underneath him, "without my help. Helping to teach me how to drive it – excuse me - her. It's a lot of shit that you really didn't have to do, ya know."
"I know I didn't have to do it, but what was gonna stop me for doing it? Okay, sure, you could have fixed her by yourself – or with Benny." There was some hesitation, and something else that Castiel couldn't pinpoint, in Dean's voice. But the mechanic continued before Castiel could contemplate on it.
"You could have found someone else to teach you as well, but again, as far as the truck goes." Dean grew silent and Castiel finally turned to look at him. "I figured someone needed to do something for you for once."
"How do you know what people have or haven't done for me?" he asked, defensively.
"Well, you wouldn't be questioning me like you were expecting me to ask for something in return."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
It's always been said that April showers bring May flowers. Well, this shower was more like a downpour.
Castiel was sitting on the balcony listening to the rain, the only light available to him was that from streetlights surrounding the building. With the steady pounding of the storm outside, he almost expected a roll of thunder to fill the night. However, the only rumble he heard was from a car careening through the parking lot.
Rolling his eyes and holding back the offensive words he wanted to shout, mainly because they'd go unheard, he went back to losing himself in the steady beat of the rain. But once again he was interrupted. This time it was by a knocking, or to be more precise, a banging at his door. With a grumble and a check of the clock – a little past one in the morning – he hoisted his body up and to the door. Shock could quite possibly have been an understatement for what he saw.
Dean reeked of beer, whiskey, and cheap perfume. His clothes and hair were drenched. Even leaning against the door, he could barely keep himself on his own two feet. It was hard to say how many drinks the man had had, or how long he'd been going at it, but by the looks of things, it had been too many and for too long.
Castiel opened the door a bit wider only to have Dean pick that moment to stumble forward. Reaching out, Castiel grabbed him, nearly collapsing under the dead weight of the taller man. With a grunt and a heave, he dragged Dean into the living room, rolling him onto the couch. Going to close the door, he came back to find Dean sitting up with his head in his hands. Castiel wasn't sure if Dean was going to be sick or burst into an emotional breakdown. He wasn't prepared to handle either one.
Lucky for him it was neither.
"She kicked me out," the words came out surprisingly sober. "She kicked me out and I had nowhere else to go, Cas. I didn't know what else do to. I don't know what else to do." Dean rubbed his face but never removed his hands.
Sitting down beside him, Castiel placed a hand on Dean's back, which the other man shrunk away from. Jerking his hand away, Castiel placed both his hands on his lap and coughed nervously before speaking. "Why did she kick you out, Dean? What happened? Where have you been?"
The questions didn't come out accusatory, but Dean's reaction surely made them appear as if they had. Dean dropped his hands and twisted his head to face Castiel, his eyes narrowed and bloodshot. Castiel couldn't help but flinch, the movement went unnoticed. "It's none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and go wherever the hell I goddamn please, so just shut your damn mouth!"
When Castiel opened his mouth to speak again, Dean raised his hand in Castiel's direction, causing him to flinch once more. This time Dean did notice, and his anger was quickly diffused. Instead of apologizing though, Dean jumped up and stumbled as he bolted out the door.
The rumble that Castiel had heard earlier filled the silent night as Dean drove off.
Dean showed up again later that week. It was earlier in the evening and he was 100% drunk this time.
The same as last time, Castiel helped Dean to the couch. The only difference was that before Castiel could talk, Dean had passed out.
Castiel watched over him, even left a couple of pain relievers and a glass of water on the coffee table, plus a small trash can by his head. At some point between the light naps that Castiel had been catching that night, Dean had slipped out.
The pain relievers were gone; the glass of water was empty. There was also a nice looking drool stain on the couch cushion where Dean had laid his head.
The next time it happened Castiel was prepared. He had gone out the day after the last incident and gotten an eighteen pack of beer. He didn't know what kind Dean liked, and it didn't matter at this point. What mattered was keeping the man there, and if keeping him drunk was what he had to do… Well he was gonna keep him drunk.
Dean showed up again, though this time it was still daylight, but the sun would be setting soon. Castiel wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been home, but pushed the thought aside as he led the drunken man to the couch. Grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, Castiel pretended to drink his own as Dean drank his quickly and asked for another.
Castiel went ahead and brought the pack into the living room.
After Dean began to eye Castiel and his bottle wearily, Castiel took a sip and had to fight his gag reflex. This man was slowly causing him to break his morals down, piece by piece, and it seemed there was nothing he could do about it. So Castiel continued to sip from his bottle until he became accustomed to the taste and developed a slight buzz.
Grabbing another bottle from the pack, he grabbed the now half-empty box and took it back to the kitchen. He couldn't fight the chuckle that came as a response to Dean's groans of discontentment. A slurred combination of words that could have possibly been Dean cursing him out, had Castiel in a fit of giggles on his way back to the couch.
Damn, I'm a fucking light weight, he thought as he collapsed beside the man who was now struggling to stand up.
"Hey, where are you going?" Castiel reached out to grab Dean's arm as he stood up, only to have him jerk his arm away too quickly for Castiel's liking. The motion caused Dean to stagger and nearly trip over the coffee table. But before Castiel could catch him, Dean made a move to the right and fell.
Rolling off the couch and coming close to hitting the coffee table himself, Castiel crawled over to Dean laid down beside him. "Where are you going? You're just a little," Castiel held his hand up, pinching his thumb and forefinger together in front of Dean's face, "bit drunk."
"Lisa." Dean tried to push himself up, but the amount of alcohol in his system kept him on the floor. Once again he repeated his wife's name and tried to get up. The struggle continued until Dean exhausted himself and passed out.
Struggling to his feet, Castiel went to get a blanket from his room. On his way back he passed his phone lying on the kitchen table, and a part of him considered calling Lisa to tell her to come get Dean. Maybe he could call Benny to come get him.
Instead he went back and got a pillow, then made sure Dean was comfortable before stretching himself out on the couch with a blanket of his own. He watched over Dean until he drifted off to sleep for a nap of his own.
When Castiel woke up the room was filled with the glow of the street lights. Sitting up he could make out the shadow of Dean's figure stumbling around the living room, bumping into walls and the kitchen table. Throwing the blanket off and clambering off the couch, he made his way to Dean before the man seriously hurt himself.
Catching Dean's arm and ducking underneath it, wrapping it around his shoulder, he quietly asked what he was searching for. Dean muttered "bathroom" and tried to wrangle his arm free of Castiel's grip, but failed.
Leading Dean to the bathroom in his bedroom, Castiel made sure Dean was steady enough to stand before closing the door. He wasn't surprised when the sound of Dean relieving himself was followed by the sound of him retching – hopefully into the toilet – was heard.
Dean seemed a bit more coherent afterwards and decided that he was going to leave without a word, but Castiel pushed him down on the bed. With instructions to "sleep it off," Castiel turned to leave, planning on sleeping on the couch. Someone else had a different plan when he was yanked to the bed.
No matter how hard he struggled, Castiel couldn't escape Dean's hold, so he settled in.
The next morning the weight that had been holding him down was gone. Once again he felt hurt; this time he had no reason for it to be justified. Dean had left every time thus far, why would he stay this time? Climbing out of bed, and then making a quick stop to ease the pain in his bladder, he followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen.
"If this is your way of bribing me in to spilling anything about last night, it's gonna take a lot more than a cup of coffee, Kevin." Castiel muttered as he passed the table and headed for the pot of still percolating liquid. Reaching up for a mug, a wave of something similar to Déjà vu swept over him, but he ignored it. Setting the mug down and turning to get the cream from the fridge, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
The hand was a contradictory mix of firmness and gentleness, one that was familiar but not. "Castiel, I'm not sure what happened last night…" The weight of Dean's hand disappeared and in its place was the sound of a mug being set down on the counter. With a sigh, Castiel got the cream and turned around to see Dean watching him. Quirking an eyebrow, he set about fixing his coffee, waiting for Dean to continue.
When it was obvious that Dean wasn't going to speak, Castiel took a sip of coffee, hissing as the too hot liquid burned his tongue. He then set his mug beside Dean's and stepped up beside him. "What do you think happened last night, Dean? Because I can tell you right now not a damned thing happened. Well, besides you get fucking plastered. And speaking off, how are you even functioning right now?"
Dean looked down at him and shrugged. That was his only response to both questions.
"So what now," he reached out for his coffee and took a timid sip, testing the temperature, like he should have done the first time. "Are you just going to leave again and then show up tonight drunk? Well, be my guest. You and Kevin can become drinking buddies for a night."
"I'm not leaving, okay. I just hate feeling that I'm doing all this shit to you. I don't understand why I keep showing up here. I don't understand anything, Castiel."
Upon hearing the lack of his nickname for the second time, Castiel looked up to see Dean still looking at him somberly. "It may help to start by talking about why you showed up the first night. Tell me why Lisa kicked you out."
"I can't do that."
"Why not? What could have possibly happened that was so bad that she kicked you out. Dean, you have to tell someone... So why not me!?" He demanded, growing annoyed with Dean's tiptoeing around the issue.
Dean shook his head and backed away from Castiel. "I can't do that, Cas, and if I thought I could I would. I'm sorry for what I did that night – almost hitting you – and I had no right to show up again like I did. Like I said, I don't know why I keep coming here, but I'll try and stay out of your hair from now on, okay?"
Before Castiel could say anything, Dean grabbed his jacket and left the apartment. He sighed and set his coffee beside Dean's empty mug. It was then that he noticed that Dean's was completely clean.
May was a busy month for Castiel.
In between studying for finals and working, he rarely saw Dean – or Benny for that matter. After their falling out that morning the month before, Castiel had kept his distance from the garage and only saw Dean when he came to visit Lisa. Whatever had been going on between the couple must have worked itself out because the two seemed to be as happy as ever.
So with all of this going on, he couldn't have been happier to see the end of the month come along. He'd already packed his bags the night before, so all that was left was to grab a few essentials (snacks for the road), load the truck, and head home for the weekend. This plan all went to hell and back when he got off the bus and entered the apartment.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Winchester?" Castiel demanded as he stormed over to the couch and yanked the remote from the hand of the man in question. Dean had been lounging on the couch, his jean clad legs crossed with his boots resting on the arm. One of Dean's arms was behind his head being used as support while the other was draped leisurely across his stomach, the remote in hand. Castiel faltered when he saw that Dean's raised arm caused his shirt to rise up, but he schooled his features when Dean looked in his direction, in a huff.
"Kevin let me in before he left for class. He said you'd be back soon and to make myself at home. So I did. Now give me the remote back!" It was Dean's turn to be demanding, but all it did was cause Castiel to turn the television off exactly as the doctor wearing ridiculous cowboy boots was leaning in to kiss the nurse. "Oh, c'mon Cas!" he cried out, catching the scene as the screen went black.
Dean leapt off the couch as Castiel headed for his bedroom to gather his bags. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as Dean followed him. Taking longer strides to catch up, Dean started to lean over and around, attempting to get the remote from Castiel. Having had enough, Castiel finally stuffed the device down the front of his pants, a smirk playing on his lips. Opening the door to his room and turning around as he grabbed his bag, Castiel burst out laughing at the expression on Dean's face.
"Damn Cas, if I knew this type of thing got you excited, I'd have done it a long time ago." Dean leered and stepped closer, only to have Castiel yank out the remote and whack Dean on the arm with it.
"Knock it off, Dean, and get the hell out of here. I'm already running late and you're not helping. So go!"
"Okay, okay!" Dean held his hands up in self-defense as he asked, "You gonna drive the truck to wherever it is you're going?"
"No, Dean. I'm gonna sprout wings and fly my feathery ass there. Of course, I'm driving the truck! God, don't ask stupid questions." Castiel snapped as he shoved past Dean and out of his room. Dean followed close behind as Castiel dropped his bag on the couch and headed into the kitchen for a couple of bottles of water and something to munch on.
"You know I didn't mean it like that. I was just wondering if maybe I could come along." Dean pulled a chair from the table and turned it around, straddling it. "You know, in case something happens." He rested his chin on his folded arms, watching Castiel move around the kitchen.
Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, ignoring the way that Dean's jeans strained over his thighs, or the way his sleeves showed off his muscular biceps. Feeling a flush creep across his face, he opened the fridge and stuck his head in, hoping the coolness would calm him down. "What could possibly happen?"
"It's an old truck; I don't know what could happen with it. And if you're gonna go a long way, I'd hate to think of you getting stuck out in the middle of nowhere." The sincerity in Dean's voice caused Castiel to pause as he grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, but he ignored it. He had to get out of here, now.
Closing the fridge door, foregoing any snacks, he calmly walked past Dean and grabbed his bag. "That's what triple A is for."
Castiel groaned inwardly as Dean followed him out of the apartment, continuing the conversation. "Those assholes are useless, Cas. How about you let me come with you… Where are you going anyway?"
"It's really none of your damn business, Dean. So if you don't mind, I'd really like to get going now."
"Does it have anything to do with your birthday?" Dean asked smugly, which caused Castiel to stop on their way down the last flight of stairs.
Turning around with eyes narrowed in a death glare, causing Dean to shrink back, Castiel hissed, "How'd you know about my birthday?"
"A little birdy told me. Well, I may have overheard a little birdy," he said. And, was that a whimper?
With a groan and a palm to his forehead, Castiel turned and continued to make his way down the stairs. Of course, Lisa would have to open her big mouth about his birthday with Dean within earshot. "Oh my god… fine. Yes, it has to do with my birthday. I'm heading home for the weekend to spend it with my mom. Alone."
Dean's heavy footsteps followed behind him, pace quickening to keep up with him. "C'mon Cas, you know you want me to come. You'd miss my adorable face the entire time you were gone." Finally catching up, Dean rushed in front of him and grabbed ahold of his shoulders.
"I haven't missed it yet," Castiel retorted, walking steadily forward toward his truck. The motion forcing Dean to start walking backwards.
"Ouch! That really hurt, you know. But I see how it is. I guess I'll just go hang out with someone who really appreciates my company…" Letting go of him, Dean stepped aside and began walking over to the Impala. Castiel must have been in such a hurry to get upstairs that he completely missed it.
Castiel felt a tug at his heart strings as he watched Dean walk away, his head bowed down in defeat. "Fine, if it'll get you to shut up and stop the guilt trip, you can come. We'll just stop by your place and get your… bag?" He shook his head as he placed his own bag in the back of the truck. Dean came sauntering back toward him, swinging his own bag in hand. "Why do you already have a bag packed in your car?"
Dean shrugged as he placed his bag beside Castiel's and then climbed in the truck. "Do you really wanna know the answer to that question?"
Opening the door and climbing in, he looked at Dean, who was waiting for his response with a raised eyebrow. Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge his nose before starting the truck up. "I honestly don't know."
"Then let's go!" Dean cheerfully said as he banged his hands on the dashboard.
Of course Anna fell in love with Dean. Who wouldn't fall in love with him when he was throwing on the charm like he was? Castiel couldn't understand why Dean was trying to impress Anna so much, and he never got a chance to ask him about it that night. After a relaxing night of pizza eating and movie watching, the trio all turned in for the night. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of everything that had happened that day, or the fact that Dean was down the hall in the guest room, but Castiel found he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The next day after breakfast, Anna suggested that Castiel give Dean a tour around the place, a request that was met with a groan from Castiel. Dean was no help at all, sitting back with a grin on his face as he watched the interaction between mother and son.
Reluctantly, and with a death glare from Anna, Castiel finally agreed. Wordlessly stomping out the backdoor, Dean in tow, they began their tour.
As the two men walked through the ankle high grass out of view of the house, Castiel watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. He felt a stab of envy at seeing how the older man seemed to be handling their trek through the heat fairly well, considering they were both wearing similar clothes.
Castiel could feel his black shirt sticking to his back, beads of sweat trailing down from the sopping hair that was now clinging to his neck. His legs felt weighed down by the dampness of his jeans. Dean, on the other hand, didn't look the tiniest bit bothered by the heat. Not that Castiel could bring himself to complain.
Dean had taken the lead at some point and Castiel was rewarded with the view of Dean's back, visible under the slight sheerness of his white shirt. His skin tight jeans cupped his ass perfectly and, if Castiel just happened to stumble into Dean out of sheer distraction, he'd deny it to his death bed.
Turning around, Dean squinted against the glare of the sun to look down at him and Castiel had to bite his lip to fight back the groan that was threatening to erupt. He wondered if Dean wore that particular shirt today on purpose.
In an effort to disguise his arousal, he pushed Dean out of his way and kept walking. It wasn't long before Dean took the lead again, heading toward a clearing surrounded by trees and even higher grass. Rushing in front of Dean, Castiel tried to stop him from entering the area but it was worthless effort. Dean only pulled him along, rolling his eyes as Castiel ranted about the dangers of snakes and other dangerous wild life that could be hiding in the grass.
Once they'd made it safely past the trees of the clearing, Castiel still hadn't calm down, but Dean didn't pay him any attention. Letting Castiel fall behind, Dean went off on his own taking in the sights. A tattered volleyball net and a few sports balls that were covered in grime, most likely from years of exposure to the elements, were propped against a tree to his right. To his left was a small pond, the water darkened and covered in a film of algae. Not far from the pond was a mixture of rusted bikes.
Castiel took in the same sights as Dean and felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. So when Dean questioned him about all the items, Castiel couldn't stop the words that poured from his mouth. He told Dean about all the times that his family would come out here to spend weekend afternoons just goofing off. He told Dean about all the embarrassing mishaps that had occurred (mostly to him) during those times, and about everything that he could remember from all those years ago.
When Castiel finished talking, he and Dean were laying in the grass staring up at the cloudless sky. They were lying a lot closer than Castiel should have been comfortable with, but it didn't seem to bother him now. Turning to look at Dean, he was surprised to see a pair of green eyes already watching him. Castiel couldn't name the look in those eyes, but the intensity of it brought out a blush, spreading across his cheeks.
"Did anyone ever tell you how damn cute you are when you blush?"
Castiel opened his mouth, ready to spit out a witty retort to the awful line that Dean had just used, but his mind got caught up in the fact that Dean had just tried to use a line on him. So that was all that he could utter was, "uh-uh" and blush harder. Apparently, this was all that Dean could take, because all Castiel heard was "aw hell" before his lips were being pressed against Dean's.
The kiss was different from their first one. This one didn't have the intensity, the urgency. This one was gentle, matching the light breeze that rustled Castiel's hair and the grass surrounding them. Wrapping his arms around Dean, Castiel held on to him as Dean began rubbing his tongue along the seam of Castiel's lips.
Finally, he opened his mouth to Dean's insistent tongue and moaned into Dean's mouth. Castiel's lungs were burning for air, breathing through his nose was not enough, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. The pain finally became too much, and when Castiel pulled away in a gasp, Dean rolled him over on his back.
Castiel should have complained when Dean crawled on top of him, should have complained when Dean latched on to his neck, should have complained because of the extra heat from Dean's body. But, he didn't. He just kept his arms wrapped around Dean and closed his eyes, the guilt he should have been feeling a millions miles from his mind.
Castiel's birthday turned out to be a small affair with Dean and Anna. Dean grilled burgers and Anna made red velvet cake coated in cream cheese frosting. As far as presents went, Anna gifted him with cash to do with what he wished.
All-in-all it was a perfect day and Castiel didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go back to the real world where Dean would say their kiss was a mistake and never speak to him again.
But when night fell the truck was packed up and they were headed back home. The ride was silent, Dean's hand resting on Castiel's knee the entire trip.
But when they parked in front of Castiel's apartment, he couldn't have been more shocked when Dean kissed him before climbing out of the truck and grabbing their bags. He grinned like an idiot as he watched Dean climb the stairs to Castiel's apartment, and he couldn't have been happier to have been wrong. Or to finally receive his gift from Dean.
Castiel found himself burying the guilt he felt. He knew it was wrong to continue seeing Dean after that night but, for once in a long time, he was happy. Truly, truly happy. So he ignored the feeling every time they would meet, and trusted that Dean would do the right thing. For the both of them.
Lisa and Ben had gone to her parent's house for the week and Dean decided to stay behind to keep an eye on things. Of course, this gave Dean the time to spend with Castiel and stay the night at Castiel's place without questions.
It was on this particular June night, a June night that four years ago had changed Castiel's life, which found Dean sitting in the living room with his guitar. Castiel sat across from him, humming along as Dean's fingers strummed the chords. The song was familiar and, when he finally caught on, Castiel grinned and began mouthing the lyrics until Dean looked him straight in the eyes and sang.
So excuse me forgetting
But these things I do
You see I've forgotten
Pausing his ministrations, Castiel caught on quickly and softly whispered if they're green in his best singing voice. Dean smiled and began playing once again, singing the rest of the verse.
Or they're blue
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen
After playing out the rest of the song, Dean sat the guitar down only to have Castiel push him down and crawl over him. Castiel wasn't sure what Dean's feelings for him were but Castiel was suddenly sure of his feelings for him.
Castiel was in love. 100%.
Pressing his lips to Dean's, he made sure he kissed him with all the love he felt. And, if he imagined that Dean was kissing him back with just as much feeling then, well, he kept that thought to himself.
When Kevin came home later that night, he found the two men sleeping soundly on the floor. Castiel was nestled on top of Dean, his face pressed into the crook of Dean's neck, while Dean was snoring soundly.
The rest of that month and the next went by with Castiel pushing Dean away then pulling him back again. He could feel his old habits creeping back, paranoia being the main one. There were times he thought about breaking away from Dean but then he'd smile and those green eyes would sparkle with adoration and… Hell he couldn't do it.
So, when Dean would pull Castiel close and tell him that he'd always be there, Castiel would just nod and pretend to believe him. Because Castiel couldn't let Dean see what was really going on inside, so he just faked it.
"Are we a thing?"
"A thing?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at a completely debauched Castiel. "What the hell does that even mean, Cas? 'A thing.'"
Castiel took a deep breath, and then let it out in a huff. "Okay so maybe not the best wording, but are together. A couple. Exclusive." Looking over Dean's shoulder and taking another deep breath, Castiel let it out as he said, "AreyouleavingLisa?"
"Castiel, you know it's not that easy. I can't –"
"Then leave, okay. If you can't leave her, then leave me. Or I'll leave you. Fuck, I don't know… just either way, you need to go." Getting off the bed and ignoring Dean, he headed for the closet and locked himself in. He knew he looked crazy at that moment, but he needed the familiarity of this.
The sound of weight shifting on the bed and, footsteps on the floor leading out the room gave Castiel some relief. Until he heard the footsteps return and a note appear at his feet. He couldn't bring himself to read, not with the person still on the other side of the door. So after what seemed like an hour, the person finally left, and Castiel was left with the decision. Do I read this and possibly get my heart broken even more? Do I read this and find out he changed his mind that he is leaving Lisa? Or do I just throw it away and ignore Dean, just forget any of this shit ever happened?
Stepping out of the closet, letter crumpled in his hand, he sat on the edge of the bed. Thoughts of what could be written on the piece of paper in his hand finally got the best of him, and he smoothed it out.
"Cas, I'm thinking of Ben right now. If the situation were any different, I'd leave her to be with you in an instant, but I can't right now. Understand that I care about you, and when the time comes, it'll just be me and you. Please be patient. For me. – Dean."
Coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down, because I want it all
It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
It was an unusually cool night in August when it happened. Castiel had been calling Dean's cell but wasn't getting an answer from him, so he decided to drop by his house. He had no reason to be here. It had been over a month since he'd seen Dean, so why should Dean see him now. It's not as if he should drop everything to come to his beck and call.
As he parked across the street from Dean's house, he saw Lisa and Dean heading up the side walk and stopping at the stairs in front of their place. Castiel prepared himself to call Dean's cell again when Lisa leaned in for a kiss. A kiss that Dean accepted.
Not able to watch anymore, he turned away and peeled out on to the road. Turning up the volume as he drove away, the voice of Brandon Flowers filling the car; he knew what he had to do. He knew that after this, he wouldn't only feel guilt but jealousy.
As he pressed down on the gas he screamed out the rest of the song.
I just can't look its killing me, and taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
Cause I'm Mr. Brightside
He knew being in a relationship – or whatever this was – was a bad idea. He knew he hadn't changed one bit. He just hoped he had the strength to follow through with his decision.