Chapter 6: Answering the door

Dean's POV

'You could be a teacher. Teach religious studies or something,' Sam suggested. Dean rolled his eyes.

'Like Cas is going to be a teacher; he's a soldier, for fuck sake,' he said and Castiel didn't say anything. He just sat there quietly, looking happy. Dean envied him, he really did. He wanted to be that happy, and sometimes he was. However, there was always this fear that someone somehow was going to screw this up. Most likely Dean himself.

'Anyway, there's no record of him being born and he still doesn't have a social security number. How are you going to swing that?' Dean asked Sam. It was supremely unhelpful, he knew that, but he couldn't stop himself. Cas needed to be around him. They had stopped with hustling people at pool, since Dean knew that Sam frowned upon it and there were only so many bars in Vermillion. Now, when Dean was working at night, Cas sat on the other side of the bar and watched him. Women came on to both of them and whenever that happened Dean smiled. If they were aiming for him, Cas became a bit jealous and when they were after Cas he looked so flustered and cute before gently brushing them off.

The older Winchester felt he needed to watch his friend. There was something still so naive and trusting about him that brought out a desire in Dean to protect him from harm. They jogged together, which Dean hated, because jogging made him feel just plain ridiculous. His heart raced and he gasped and spluttered and there were these stabbing pains in his side and all the while he was thinking; what the hell am I doing? Cas, on the other hand, despite zapping everywhere for the biggest part of his life, could run circles around him. That was exactly what he did whenever Dean needed a breather, which was about every ten minutes.

They took long walks together. Not on the beach; there weren't a lot of those in South Dakota, thank God. Cas would behave like a kid; dragging Dean every which way, pointing out everything from ducks to buildings he liked. The former angel was so carefree, as if he had been holding on for such a long time and then decided to just let go. Let the stream take him wherever it may, while he floated around with an adorable smile on his face. Yes, Cas had allowed himself to be happy. If only it was that simple for Dean.

Sometimes being with Cas was painful. He'd hear that voice or see that smile and he thought he'd fucking die. And Cas kept saying how happy Dean made him, how much he loved him and how much he was enjoying their life. Those felt like punches and the hits just kept on coming.

Sam was also beyond thrilled. The steadiness of their existence, the normalcy of it; Sam thought it was pretty wonderful. He raved about not having to worry about demons. Bobby sometimes called to say he'd gotten one and one time Dean had gone out to hunt one down with him, leaving Sam and Cas at home. At home, didn't that sound fucking fantastic? Sam had vowed to take good care of Cas, though his brother couldn't refrain from making fun of Dean for being worried. Cas was a grown man, after all; he could take care of himself.

(***)

It was June before Dean allowed Cas to go off on his own, because he'd realised he'd become that guy. The clinging, suffocating boyfriend he'd never in a million years thought he'd ever become. Not that Cas minded; he bore every insane demand of Dean with infinite patience. It was the patience that annoyed Dean; it was a Sam sort of patience and it wound him up to the point where he wanted to whip out the God thing. Again Dean was ashamed of his behaviour. He was like the one in their relationship who kept bringing up Cas' past mistake in every argument. It was simply easier to feel that sense of betrayal than to surrender to loving Cas.

He was such a loser.

Because he already had. He had loved Cas for a long time, maybe since that first moment, when the angel had looked at him and called him on his bullshit about thinking he didn't deserve to be saved. And he was crazy in love with him. Cas and he had talked about Cas losing his grace. Other than that one second in Bobby's kitchen where Dean had felt that something was different, he had noticed no change. Of course, Cas had lost things, but in the end he was still Cas. He only had to take one look at Dean to know when to be silent or when to talk. Dean would be sitting on the couch feeling a little lost and Cas would touch his arm and he knew the other man understood.

Those little things got to him. Cas buying the fabric softener Dean liked. Cas telling Sam to shut it whenever his brother was about to give a lecture. Cas kissing his collarbones. Cas performing a thousand little tasks and making small gestures designed solely to make Dean feel better. To make Dean happy.

Getting into the shower with Dean and washing his hair. Cas' hands on his shoulders, in his hair, softly rinsing out the shampoo. And never once asking why they hadn't made love yet, when Dean knew that Cas desperately wanted to. Cas was hot for him; Dean now realised. They'd lie in bed together and he could feel the bulge in Cas' boxers, but Cas never pushed. It was that maddening patience again; the one that infuriated and endeared Dean simultaneously.

(***)

A Saturday in July.

Cas had gone out on one of his long walks. He'd asked Dean along, but Dean had declined, sensing that what Cas really wanted was to be alone for a while. Sam was on the couch watching TV with the volume off and a book about civil law in his lap. Some of his birthday money had gone towards buying course material. Like a true nerd, he was reading up before school even started. Dean was sitting in the kitchen and thus also in the living room, since it was really one big room. There was a book propped up on the table before him too. Reading wasn't really for him; he had realised that a long time ago, but today he was trying.

'Enter Hamlet,' Dean mumbled and he turned the page. People were always entering and exiting. There were a lot of characters and Dean was having trouble keeping them separated. He purposely sat in the kitchen, because he couldn't concentrate if he sat on the couch. The couch was too comfortable and the TV was too close. It was just that whenever Dean read the word 'enter' he either thought about Cas in an inappropriate way or a little key on a computer.

'Ha, Shakespeare and computers,' Dean muttered and Sam looked at him. There was a weary look in Sam's eyes.

'Dean, that means that the actor playing Hamlet appears on stage. It has nothing to do with computers,' his brother explained. Dean tried not to roll his eyes, but it was hard.

'I know that.'

'Why are you reading Hamlet?' Sam asked and he shut his undoubtedly boring book. Stretching his tall body, he stood up from the couch and ambled over to Dean.

'Cas said he was an indecisive son of a bitch,' Dean said and, when Sam put on his lecture face, he quickly added, 'Don't spoil the ending, Sam, I'm only halfway through.'

His brother managed to be quiet for a little while, but Dean couldn't focus on the words. Sam paced behind him, then sat down at the kitchen table too and leaned his chin on his hands. Dean looked up, but Sam was not looking at him. The door had his undivided attention, as if he was expecting something. There was a satisfied smile on his face and Dean attempted to get back to Hamlet and his drama. Suddenly, Sam sighed and Dean gave up.

'What?'

'We've got our own door,' Sam said. Dean glanced at it. The significance was lost on him.

'Technically, it's not ours. We're renting it,' he corrected. Sam continued to stare at the door and his happiness was starting to grate.

'Yes, but we could paint it if we wanted to,' Sam added. So what? Dean wanted to ask. If this was some elaborate ruse to rope him into painting the entire apartment than that wasn't going to fly. Once Sam's school started, they would most likely split. Sam would live on campus or get an apartment near the university and Cas and Dean would stay. So, it was really Dean's apartment and he liked the colour of the walls. Well, he didn't hate it, not enough to go through the hassle of painting anyway.

'We would have to get permission from the landlord,' Dean said, but Sam glared at him, so he amended, 'but you could paint it, yes.'

A knock on the door startled Dean and Sam regarded him with amusement. It wasn't funny. Whenever Castiel wasn't there, Dean always felt very ambiguous about the door, like it was the harbinger of bad news. Sam opened the door. It was just a girl scout selling cookies and Sam bought a box.

'What was that? You're panicky,' Sam said as he tore open the package and popped one of the cookies into his mouth. Demonstratively, Dean opened his book and started over at the top of the page.

'Do not disturb. I'm reading,' he said and Sam chuckled. Dean practically jumped out of his chair when he heard another knock on the door. Frowning at Dean, Sam opened it and this time it was Castiel.

'Dude, you've got a key,' Sam reminded him, but Castiel completely ignored him and walked over to Dean. The former angel pulled Dean up and planted a big, sloppy kiss on him. Then he nuzzled Dean's neck, whispering that he'd missed him. It was corny as hell, but Dean loved it.

'Less talking, more kissing,' Dean chided, as he followed Castiel into their bedroom and shut the door. They tripped over a pile of Dean's discarded clothes and fell on the bed. Cas laughed as he tried unsuccessfully to tug off Dean's shirt, but settled for ducking his head under there and kissing his way up to Dean's collarbones. To say that Cas harboured a slight fixation on his collarbones was putting it mildly. When he reappeared again, his hair was ruffled and he was grinning. Dean smiled back at him and kissed him hard. There was something about kissing Castiel that never got old. Very gently, Cas put his hand on the bulge in Dean's jeans. He looked at Dean. Dean didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't speak, but Cas knew and he removed his hand.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the bedroom, just talking and kissing. A certain Danish prince was left all but forgotten on the kitchen table.

(***)

A Wednesday in July.

Dean was taking a shower. Cas would be home in a minute and they'd eat chicken wings, because Cas loved those and watch Kill Bill part one and two, because Dean loved those. They had been going to rent Terminator, but something about the film seemed to make Cas a bit uncomfortable, though he had tried to hide it. Dean had noticed that Cas was not a fan of time travel films. Just one of those things, he guessed.

Someone knocked on the door. Dean pushed aside the shower curtain.

'Cas, if that's you; use your key. I'm in the shower,' he yelled. If that's not you, I don't care, he thought. He hummed as he grabbed the soap. Another knock. Dean ignored it. Sam was hanging out with a couple of new friends and he'd told them not to wait up. It couldn't be Sam and Cas had a key with him. Dean had specifically told him to take it, before Cas left to get the food. Another knock. Man, this was getting annoying. He made one last effort to drown out the sound with humming, but when another knock followed he turned off the shower and put on the fluffy bathrobe. Grumpily, he stalked over to the door.

'Cas!' he breathed, when he opened the door and Castiel slumped into his arms. His face was a mess; his hair was matted with blood, his lips thick and split. Dean dragged him to the couch and when he tried to get up to grab something, Cas wouldn't let go of his wrist. It was one of those bastards we hustled, Dean thought. This is all my fault for forcing him to do that, Dean thought. Castiel tried to speak and Dean leaned closer.

'I forgot, Dean. I'm sorry,' he slurred. Fuck, he thinks he needs to apologise, to me, Dean thought. Dean could just about cry.

'Don't worry about the key. That doesn't matter,' Dean comforted him and tried to release his wrist from Castiel's grip, but Cas only held on tighter. His face, his beautiful face; Dean could see bruises and swellings forming under the blood. At least the blood was congealing. It was no longer flowing. Cas would be alright, but not really. Not really, thanks to Dean.

'No, not that. They asked where I was going...' Cas whispered. His voice was so soft that Dean could barely hear it. There was a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, like his entire life got pulled right the fuck out from under him. They. He was going to kill them.

'...and you said you were going to your boyfriend?' Dean finished and Cas nodded.

'That's when they...' Cas added. It was Dean's fault. He had done this. Made Cas choose to become human, made him lose his powers and now he was defenceless. The worst thing was that he hadn't prepared Cas in any way. Hell, Cas probably didn't even know what gay or bisexual meant. They should have had the talk. The talk about prejudices and people's reactions and hate. Dean had known they would have to have the talk, but he hadn't wanted to have it. Because it was also about love.

And when it came to love Dean was as defenceless and afraid as Castiel was now. Fate: that was what he feared. A drunk driver, food poisoning, a heart attack. A bunch of homophobes. Castiel would be hurt or gone and he would be just as hurt. Just as gone. Please, don't make me lose you too. That's what it came down to.