Chapter 9: The other side

Dean's POV

Dean was coming out of the shower when he heard Cas and Sam talking. He paused and didn't walk into the kitchen just yet. Castiel was forever listening in when Sam and he were talking, so now he was going to do that same.

'...really loves you, you know,' Sam said. The door was ajar and Dean could make out Sam and Cas folding the laundry. Could they get any more domestic and pedestrian? It was a far cry from hunting demons and stopping or starting the apocalypse. He hadn't expected them to someday have a different life than that. Briefly, he wondered whether Sam would ever tell Miranda about their unusual past.

By the way: score. Folding the laundry was a chick chore and it was Dean's job to take out the trash. So, if they were keeping the score as to who was the girl in their relationship; it was Castiel. It was juvenile, Dean knew it was, but still he was quietly making a list. After all, one of these days the good old US of A was going to catch up to the present and he was going to marry Cas.

And they would both be grooms, of course, but secretly Dean felt that one of them needed to be the bride. The groom was just an appendage. It was the bride's special day. The bride was the centre of attention. So, Dean was just making sure that whenever that day came and bouquets needed to be tossed and flower arrangements needed to be discussed; he could whip out the list. 'Your job,' he'd say, presenting the evidence, and Castiel would be stuck with all the stuff that Dean had absolutely no interest in.

He had no idea why he was imagining it like that, with the bride as the one who is singled out. Singled out by whom? It would most likely be a Vegas wedding, with Dean and Bobby as their witnesses. It wasn't as if it would be some big family wedding with aunts and uncles and friends from a fucking book club coming flying in from all over the country for a wedding that had been in preparation for more than a year. The thought of a wedding like that kind of made Dean want to hurl.

'Yes. He has not told me, but...' Cas started, but Sam interrupted him. Dean's little brother had an incredulous expression on his face.

'Wait, he hasn't said it?' Sam asked and he sounded almost angry. Cas ignored Sam's exaggerated reaction and calmly finished folding.

'He doesn't need to; I know,' he serenely said. It pretty much made Dean want to go into the kitchen, bend him over the table and fuck him. That would probably disturb Sam a little bit, so he didn't. Dean was planning to tell Sam that they'd already had sex on the table and against the counter and on the couch and in the shower, even against the door, but he was waiting until Sam moved out. Just one more day and meanwhile Dean kept grinning whenever Sam prepared a sandwich on the counter. It would only make the revelation better.

However, not being able to say 'I love you' was getting to be a problem. Dean was pretty sure that during the wedding he'd have to say it. You couldn't just mumble something or change the subject or whatever at that moment. Dean wanted to say it and he felt that Castiel deserved to hear it. So, while it might not be important to Castiel that he hadn't said it yet: it was important to Dean.

(***)

The next day, when Dean arrived at work, he was already tired. Castiel and he had helped Sam move into an apartment closer to the law school. Sam's roommate looked like a complete bore. Studying in peace would be no trouble at all with that dweeb around. His brother would not be woken up by loud sex or loud music or loud anything. Hell, even the guy's voice had been mousy. Peter was like the poster boy for a nerd.

Peter's small, round face had turned bright red when Dean had finally been able to tell Sam on which surfaces in the other apartment they'd had sex. Sam had glared at him for revealing this information in front of his roommate and possibly also for defiling the apartment that was now Castiel's and Dean's apartment.

At the bar, Danny, the owner, was waiting for him and Dean left Castiel at the counter to go talk to the owner in the back.

'Have a seat,' Danny said. Dean took the proffered chair and sat down uneasily. Danny lowered himself into a chair too. It was a strange sight to behold. Danny was big; big in the Sam sense of the word and big in the fat sense of the word. The chairs were sturdier than they looked, but still Dean was always anxious lest the legs snapped like matches if Danny sat down. They were going to have a serious talk by the looks of it. Fingers crossed that he was not getting fired. It had been going so well.

'How would you feel about becoming a fulltime bartender?' Danny asked.

'Look, the other guy I've got is a bit of a deadbeat. You're the best bartender I've had so far. You look like you know what you're doing. You're friendly, but not overly so. I like you. Plus, you bring in women and women bring in men, so you're good for business,' Danny added. Dean couldn't hide a smug smile of satisfaction at the thought that he brought in women. That was always nice to hear, despite him pretty much permanently playing for the other team now. However, bartending was only supposed to have been a temporary job. He had needed to make some money and have a place to teach Castiel how to play pool.

On the other hand, he still had no clue what else he would want to do with his life and he liked the job, so why the hell not?

'Sure,' he said and shook Danny's hand. They got up; Danny's chair moaning under the abuse it had been forced to suffer. Danny's thick thumb pointed at the door to the bar. Dean could see Castiel hanging back in his barstool. It was balancing on two legs. Idiot is going to fall and break his neck one of these days, Dean thought.

'Can your friend pour drinks?'

'What?' Dean said, perplexed, as they entered the bar. He shot a warning glance at Castiel and with a guilty look on his face Castiel put the stool down properly.

'The one over there, who is burning a hole in my skull with his blue eyes. I've got more business than I can handle. He's always hanging around here. He might as well get paid to do something,' Danny elaborated and Dean beckoned Castiel over. Hesitating, Castiel approached the bar.

'What's in a martini?' Danny asked.

'Gin, vermouth and an olive or a lemon twist,' Castiel answered. When Danny nodded, Castiel glanced at Dean.

'Make me one,' Danny said and Castiel went behind the bar. Until he was there, his movements were unsure, but then suddenly he started to... dance. Dean wanted to look away, but it was like he couldn't avert his eyes, so he looked on, horrified. Castiel was on his toes, twirling around, throwing bottles and glasses in the air. He poured that martini alright; Dean just would have liked it much better if it had not been accompanied by that embarrassing dance routine.

It was painful to watch. Castiel couldn't even hold a bottle properly. Bottles were held upside down with a twisted wrist flick. Dean didn't want to see how Danny was reacting to this, but finally he glanced at the bar owner.

Beside him, Danny was shaking with silent laughter. The barstool on which he was sitting was groaning and his chins were wobbling. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and when Castiel offered him the martini his hands were shaking too much to take it, so Castiel put it down on the bar. After wiping away his tears and visibly composing himself, Danny took a sip.

'What's your name?'

'Castiel Nicholson,' Castiel answered. Dean was amazed at how fast he had memorised the new name they'd gotten him. It had been a hassle to place the name in the system, but picking the name had been even trickier. Eventually, Dean had recited a list of last names of his favourite actors and this was the result.

'Well, Castiel, if you can do that without the theatrics, you're hired,' Danny said. Castiel beamed at him and Danny left them at the bar. Occasionally, he still giggled when he glanced at Castiel.

'I should never have let you watch Cocktail,' Dean whispered, but nothing he did could erase the smile from Cas' face. The rest of the night they tended the bar together. A couple of times Castiel tried to engage Dean in flair bartending, but Dean shot those attempts done. No matter how much the vision of Castiel imitating Tom Cruise amused him now that he thought about it; that was not going to happen.

(***)

It wasn't even a day after Sam had moved into his own apartment and he was already standing on Dean's doorstep again.

'Peter is driving me crazy,' he said, by way of a greeting. Sam came inside and grabbed two beers from the fridge, as if he still lived there. Dean was feeling a bit irritated, but at the same time he liked the surprise visit. After all, Sam and he were not used to being away from each other, unless one of them was in hell or in a devil's cage or something like that. Voluntary extended breaks from each other; they hadn't had those in a long time.

'He wants to hang out with me, but mostly with you,' Sam continued as he sat down at the kitchen table. His brother's eyes were surveying the room, looking like he was seeing it for the first time. Sam squinted, as if he was receiving some unpleasant visuals and Dean tapped the table and grinned. Yep, right here too, he wanted to say, but Sam was already nearly choking on his beer, so Dean was merciful.

'Why would he want to hang out with me?' he asked.

'He thinks you're cool,' Sam spit out. Dean grinned again.

'Based on a thirty second conversation I had with you, he has decided that you're cool. Now he's badgering me for details about you. I think he might be a closet case,' Sam explained. He ran his hand through his too long hair and sighed.

'I am roguishly handsome,' Dean offered by way of explanation. A knock on the door disturbed them before Sam could roll his eyes some more. It was a blender that Castiel had ordered. Annoyed, Dean thanked the delivery man and hauled it inside. He needed to stop Cas from watching the home shopping channel. 'But it's only a temporary offer! It's fifty percent off!' The former angel still did not fully understand the concept of lying.

After all the times he'd seen Dean do it and all the times Cas himself had kept things from the Winchesters; he still believed that lying was the exception, while it was really more the rule.

'You're still thinking about the thing with the door?' Sam asked, quietly, after Dean had put the package away. The older Winchester glanced at the door.

'Yes, Sam, it's good to have our own door,' Dean answered, wearily. He was not looking forward to being drawn into that argument again.

'No, I mean, it's bothering you, right? The settled aspect of it. The closest thing you've ever had to a home is the Impala. And now you've got it all: steady home, steady job, steady boyfriend. You lack experience in the area,' Sam said. Dean had trouble seeing how this related to the door, except that it was a steady door.

'Except with Lisa and Ben, but other than that; yeah, you're right,' Dean confirmed. The topic was making him a little anxious, but he was curious to see where Sam was going with this.

'Dean, it's ok to be scared.'

Sam tried to put his hand on Dean's arm, but Dean stood up quickly to grab new beers. With his head hidden behind the door of the fridge, he scoffed.

'Pff, scared. I'm not scared. Scared about what?'

Sam waited until Dean was seated again and took the second beer Dean offered him, despite the fact that he had not yet finished his first. He made eye contact in that obnoxious way of his that made it impossible for Dean to look away.

'Scared of answering the door and finding Castiel beaten up. Scared of having to take a call in the middle of the night and someone telling you Castiel is hurt or dead. It's the downside to Cas becoming human,' Sam summed up. That had happened, Dean thought, and it could happen again. Obviously, that moment was always going to come someday, because everyone dies. That didn't make it easier to accept, however.

'What then?' Dean asked. His voice was loud.

'I don't know,' Sam admitted.

'I don't know either,' Dean agreed, his voice a bit quieter.

'After Jess...' Sam began, but he faltered briefly before continuing, 'I guess, you just go on. And maybe, probably, it'll never happen with Cas, not until you're 80 or so. You'll live long and happy lives, so you can't worry about it. You have to enjoy what you've got while you've got it.'

'Yes, it probably won't happen. Thanks, Sam,' Dean sarcastically replied. Why thank you for jinxing it, Sam, Dean wanted to say. His brother was a major drama queen, so of course he wouldn't fail to mention vague, but impending doom. Sam was also right; Dean just didn't want to admit it.

'Is that why you haven't said it?' Sam asked. He spun the empty bottle around in his hands, but his eyes stayed fixed on Dean.

'Said what?' Dean responded, though he knew exactly what Sam meant.

'That you love him. I mean, he's happy, Dean, being with you. But if it was me, I'd want to hear it. You'll only regret it if that moment does come and you haven't said it.'

Ding, ding, ding, give that man a prize! Dean didn't respond. He stared at the table. He imagined Castiel with that loving look on his face, while he undressed Dean. The tenderness always got to Dean. It turned him on. At this exact same spot where he was not talking to Sammy right now, Dean had slowly taken Castiel. As he recounted sex fantasies, Dean could feel Sam's impatience growing with every sip his brother took.

'What do you want to do? Summon Atropos, if that's even possible, and ask her to look into her book and tell you when it's going to end?' Sam asked harshly, finally reaching the last of his vast reserve of patience.

'No,' Dean said in a tone that indicated that he did want to do that. That was stupid. He didn't really want to know when someday was.

'Well, then stop whining and tell him!' Sam snapped. He drained his second beer and slammed it down on the table. In a surprisingly fluid motion, considering his long limbs, he got to his feet. With a disapproving look, he stared down at Dean.

'Please, come over to my place and spout this crap. I guarantee you, Peter's crush will die a very quick death,' Sam said as he headed for the door. Dean's brother shook his head. It was the patented 'Dean, you're hopeless' headshake. Then he smiled encouragingly and closed the door behind him.

It was high time that Dean said it. It was time that he started to believe what Cas had said when they first met. Dean didn't believe him then, but time had proven Castiel right. Good things do happen, Dean.

(***)

'We need to talk,' Dean said when Castiel came home from his afternoon run. Sometimes Dean still accompanied him and it was a lot easier to keep up with Castiel nowadays, but he didn't think he'd ever be as into it as Cas was. Cas practically flew when he was running and he enjoyed the hell out of it. Dean had only evolved into grudgingly not hating it as much as he once did.

'Are you breaking up with me?' Castiel panted. A panicked look appeared on his face replacing the bliss from physical exercise. When Cas looked like that, Dean thought about other ways of working up a sweat, so he had to struggle to focus on the ridiculous question.

'What? No. Why would you think that?' he asked. Castiel downed almost an entire bottle of water, before very seriously answering.

''Ten breakup warning signs.' Sign number ten: your boyfriend says that you two need to talk,' he started and it looked like he was going to rattle of some more signs.

'Where do you get this crap?' Dean interrupted him.

'The Cosmopolitans at the barber. Also, in 'Is your boyfriend losing interest?' it said that if he stopped noticing changes in your appearance he was losing interest,' Castiel said, still slightly panting. His face was flushed and sweat trickled out of his hair and into his eyes. He kept wiping it away with his sleeve. Hot, Dean thought; so hot.

'So?'

'So, I got my hair cut and you didn't notice,' Castiel said and Dean didn't know why he had been keeping the score. There was nothing to be worried about: Cas was clearly going to be the bride. Dean pushed him into a chair and resisted the urge to sit down in his lap. That would make him the girl.

'Calm down. No one is breaking up with anyone. You got a new haircut?' he asked and he walked around Castiel. Honestly, he could not see the difference and he admitted, 'I don't see it.'

'I told him to keep it kind of the same,' Castiel confessed sheepishly. Laughing, Dean thoroughly mussed his hair.

'It's sexy. You are sexy. You up for a little something something?' Dean asked. He winked suggestively and Castiel took off his sweaty shirt.

'I want a lot of something something,' Castiel answered and he kissed Dean. Their tongues fought for dominance for a while and this was one game Dean didn't mind losing. Castiel roughly pushed him up against the refrigerator. His hands slipped into Dean's trousers, but then he paused.

'What did you want to talk about?'

'I'll tell you afterwards,' Dean breathed, as Castiel's fingers continued their delicious, downward journey. First showing, then telling. Dean was ready.