The evening was cold.
Of course it was cold, it was fucking November, dumb-ass.
Dean needed to calm down and stop yelling at himself.
He poked savagely at the coals in the barbecue pit instead. Stupid coals. Stupid Dean. Stupid coals.
"You alright?" Bobby raised an eyebrow at his eldest son, talking quietly as Ellen and Jo buddied up to Gabriel on the porch.
"Fine." Dean growled, in such a way that implied he wasn't fine, and he knew he wasn't fooling anyone, but if Bobby so much as tried to look for anything then Dean would have to do something drastic. Like curl up in a ball and whimper.
"Ok." Bobby shrugged, finishing the last of his chocolate banana and dropping the skin in the pit. "So, what you said earlier. It was a brave thing to do."
Dean stared at the banana skin, withering and blackening under the heat.
"I'm proud of you."
Dean continued to look just about anywhere but at Bobby.
"You know that, right? I mean, I go on at you sometimes, about going back to college, but that's just because I don't want to see you selling yourself short. You're a smart kid. Smarter than you give yourself credit for. Smarter than you da…" Bobby stopped himself short, glancing at Dean. "Smarter than I am. I just don't want to see you waste what you've got. But whatever you do, you know… however you live… Me an' Ellen, we'll still love you for it."
Dean managed a weak smile, and Bobby returned it with a curt nod. That was the extent of the moment, now they would drink beer and never talk about it again. Dean had spent far too much time with his feelings tonight.
He'd turn into a massive girl, if he wasn't careful.
Oh God, he'd turn into Sam.
Jo was trying to convince Sam to stay there the night. Dean leapt ship onto the new conversation.
"Wait, didn't you come here in Gabriel's car? You want to drive that thing home? On a November night?"
Convincing Sam and Bobby to work on Gabriel's rust-bucket of a car was like trying to get leaves to fall off of trees in autumn; it didn't take much effort, and probably would have happened without Dean's insistence anyway. Fixing cars was something Dean could do, and it was something that took his mind off of phoning Cas for an hour or two.
(-*-)
Castiel had been curled up on his couch, reading. He was supposed to be watching Gabriel's dog, Murdoch, but the Jack Russell knew enough about people, and Castiel in particular, that he could be left to do his own thing.
"Woof." Murdoch supplied, by way of cutting through Castiel's thoughts, knowing he wasn't allowed on the cream couch. Sighing, Castiel unfurled himself and allowed the dog to jump into his lap. The book was put aside, and Castiel turned his attention to his guest.
"I am sorry I lead such an uninteresting life, Murdoch." Cas grumbled, scratching behind the dog's ear. "Perhaps I should make my apartment more like Gabriel's, to help you feel at home? I could invest in a television?"
Murdoch made a noncommittal sound, which seemed to say "as long as you keep petting me, you can paint the walls pink for all I care."
"I suppose you are glad of any attention, since lately Gabriel has been somewhat distracted with his latest infatuation."
Murdoch looked at him. Castiel knew that dogs couldn't speak English, but he was sure Murdoch understood the gist of the conversation, especially since the look implied that Castiel had no idea how attention deprived Gabriel's new relationship had made him.
"Very well. I shall fetch both of us some dinner, and we shall… perhaps we shall visit Pamela. Not that I don't value your company, of course, but it is seven o'clock on Thanksgiving, and I am attempting to distract myself from thoughts of my ongoing descent into non-professionalism at the hands of Dean Winchester by talking to a dog... Dinner?"
"Woof." Murdoch supplied, hopping nimbly down and leading the way to the kitchen. Cas, at least, was fully aware of how sad he was, which was good, since Gabriel wasn't there to point it out.
(-*-)
Dean didn't ask who Pamela was. But, when Gabriel hung up the phone and told Sam that Cas was at Pamela's for the evening, and neither of them minded Gabriel staying the night, Dean was sickened by the pang of jealousy he felt.
Of course Cas had other friends. Maybe girlfriends. Maybe he was bi, so what, it made no difference to Dean. He shoved all of the heavy, dangerous thoughts aside, and continued working on the car. By the time they had finished, night had well and truly set in. Dean spent longer than strictly necessary putting away the tools and tidying up. By the time he was done, Sam and Bobby had both showered and gone to bed. The house was quiet, as he turned on the shower and cocooned himself with the noise of gushing water.
The warm water against the cold air made his skin shiver and shrink, and soon the business-like swipes of soap and flannel across his grimy, oil-covered skin waned into something more tired. He stood in the shower, leaning against the porcelain tile, warm spray of water massaging the back of his neck as he closed his eyes. The water rushed down his back and fell to the floor, and he wished he could send some thoughts with it.
He'd cried.
He'd felt so utterly bad with himself that he'd cried.
The last time he'd cried, he'd been ten years old. He still remembered the oak panelling, the long, shining tables. There wasn't a surface in the room that hadn't been polished to within an inch of it's life, including the judge's bald head. The judge had looked down at John Winchester, in the defendant's chair, and knocked his gavel. That was it. Sam and Dean were no longer under the "unsuitable" care of John Winchester. They would be taken to a foster home until other arrangements could be set up.
Their father had looked at them, clean-shaven and sober for once. He hadn't tried to fight, he hadn't yelled or thrown things around; in short he hadn't done anything that Dean had expected him to. He had nodded at the judge's words, turned to his sons with a defeated, crumpled expression on his face, and told them he was sorry.
Then, he'd let the social care people lead Sam and Dean out of the courtroom. They probably shouldn't have been in there in the first place.
Dean had run to the bathroom; Sam was small and confused, and he didn't want to scare him even more.
Dean had run to the bathroom as fast as his short-ass legs could carry him, locked himself in a stall, curled up on the floor and cried.
He loved his Dad. He wasn't a bad man. He just said bad things sometimes. Got angry. But he never meant it. And yeah, he'd pushed Sam one time, and Sam had fallen down the stairs, but he'd driven him straight to the hospital, and bought them all ice cream after. Dean was ten years old, he didn't understand how psychology worked, or what the adults meant when they threw around words like "manic", or "neurotic". He just wanted things to stay the way he understood them. Now he had to look after Sam, because his dad had always said, if the day came that he wasn't around, Dean's number one priority should be to look out for Sam.
Did that make him the grown up now?
No. Grown-up Dean wanted to go back to that scared little kid in the bathroom stall and take him to the arcade, tell him living with Bobby and Ellen and Jo was the best thing that'd ever happen, tell him his dad would still visit, and tell him everything was going to be ok.
Except he couldn't. He couldn't go back there, tell ten-year-old Dean anything. He certainly couldn't promise everything was going to be ok. Truthfully, he'd have to tell that little kid that one day he'd find out he liked men, and the man he liked probably wouldn't like him back, and he wouldn't even be able to tell his own family about it because he'd be scared of admitting it to himself.
Fuck.
He turned off the shower, dried himself, and went to bed. He just couldn't think any more.
(-*-)
Dean maybe managed to scrape five hours of sleep. All he knew was, at twenty past four, he woke with a start. He stumbled into his clothes and shut the bedroom door quietly. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He wandered into the kitchen and sat down, wondering what to do.
Sam was apparently psychic.
"Oh. Hey."
"Hey… you're awake because..?"
"Couldn't sleep." Sam whispered, tying up his running shoes. "Going for a run. Want to come with?"
"I'm already awake at four in the morning, what makes you think I'd want to exercise?"
"Suit yourself." Sam shrugged, zipping up his hoody. Dean watched him for a moment.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah."
"Sam." Dean glared at him. When you've lived with someone their entire life, you can't really get away with bullshitting them.
"I'm… it's just school stuff. Grades. I'm just getting worn down, you know?"
"That's it?"
"Yeah. Just a little stressed." Sam smiled at him, and headed for the door. He paused, smiling awkwardly back at Dean. "Don't tell Gabriel about this? I don't want him to worry."
"Sure. Whatever." Dean sighed as he started making coffee for himself. If he was up, he may as well be awake.
So he guessed that was it. Sam and Gabriel were officially a couple.
It wasn't like they had to ask his permission, but it would have been nice to know this a little sooner. Now he felt extra unprepared. He watched the kettle boil, trying to drown out his thoughts with the quiet rumble and the chink of dried coffee beans on china. It didn't work, obviously, but he could try.
Maybe he needed some time to himself, without Cas or Sam or Gabriel or anyone else, just to figure out what the hell he wanted.
He was starting to warm to the idea, the more he thought about it.
Dean Winchester's big soul-searching journey. John had left some money, at least, when he'd died. He and Sam both had respectable trust funds; he could blow it all on a trip to Brazil or around Europe. That was where people went when they wanted to find themselves, right? Or he could stop working at Bobby's, move to… somewhere boring, and cut off. Get a little cabin in the middle of the Arizona plains, and just read for a year. Educate himself. Then he'd come back, and he wouldn't just know who he was and what he wanted, but he'd be able to go about getting it.
Yeah.
He could do that.
He just needed some time to plan, he thought, and as soon as he'd thought it, Gabriel stuck his head around the kitchen door.
He could hold off planning for later, he supposed, as he invited Gabriel to sit down for coffee and pancakes. Right now, he should probably spend some quality bonding time with his brother's boyfriend. And maybe tell the most embarrassing stories he could think of.
(-*-)
Gabriel said Cas would "value Dean's friendship. Dean thought Gabriel didn't know what he was talking about.
Once they'd returned to pick up Murdoch, Gabriel had told Cas that Dean needed a friend more than a counsellor. Castiel was sure Gabriel was just causing mischief again.
As a result of these two opinions, it was a confused day after Thanksgiving before either man saw the other. When they did finally meet, it came from Dean standing nervously outside Castiel's office, receiving some amused looks from Becky.
"Shut up." Dean growled at her. "You know I've been seeing a counsellor; you think I'm good at confrontation?"
Becky smirked, but went back to her computer. Dean took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock on the door.
That was when Castiel opened it.
"Oh." Said Castiel, as Dean swung his hand forward to knock on thin air.
"Oh." Agreed Dean, yet again feeling like the great lumbering Ox in Castiel's delicate, spindly world.
"Dean." Castiel managed, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. Dean had no idea what Castiel had to be embarrassed about, since it was his office. "I had not been expecting you."
"No, I… uh…" Dean felt the words dry up in his mouth. He really did not want to tell Cas that all their counselling had been for nothing, just because Dean was too much of a chicken to face himself.
"Is there a problem?"
The pause that followed Castiel's question seemed to stretch on for hours, everything slowing to a crawl as Dean's brain floundered for something, anything, to say.
"I told them."
With a sickening lurch, the world shot forward into double time. Dean's mouth got away from him, lying about how he'd told his family, how he'd been accepted, and how he felt happy and healthy and really didn't need a counsellor any more, but he would still like to hang out with Cas, and there was a hockey game on tomorrow if Cas wanted to go, but it was short notice so he could understand if…
Dean lost track of what he was saying. Cas was smiling; he looked so genuinely pleased… even proud of Dean. He felt slimy and worthless, but now the lie was out there and he couldn't take it back.
Cas was smiling.
God, that was a wonderful smile.
A smile worth lying for, Dean decided, as Castiel nodded and said he'd love to go to the hockey game with Dean, although he'd be late in the office so Dean would have to come pick him up if he wanted them to be on time.
Dean replied, although he honestly didn't know what he said, because he was too busy staring at Castiel's slight, smiling lips. He left the office, and sat in his car for ten minutes, trying to locate and reprimand the part of his brain that had said such a stupid thing.
Castiel, meanwhile, watched Dean leave.
Then he realised that Becky was watching him, and that he was in too good a mood to snap at her.
Almost.
"Isn't there some filing you should be doing?"
"Yes, I should be moving Dean's file to "A" for "adorable"." Becky smirked. Castiel backed into his office.
"Look, go get me coffee, or I'll phone up the agency and say you were stealing supplies."