Castiel decided to go home for a couple days. He needed to think about everything that had happened over the last few weeks, and see his family, and Dean offered to drive him in the Impala; there were no downsides he could see. He'd even gotten the job he had interviewed for – he started when the new week began. He threw his weekend bag into the back seat and slid in alongside Dean, wiggling in the leather. It was so… rich. He felt bad for sitting on it as if it were an antique luxury, and he was tarnishing it. Glancing over at the motorcycle cowboy behind the wheel, those green eyes warm on his, jeans torn and his jacket rumpled, he felt a lot more at ease. It made Dean very happy to see him finally in the passenger's side, he guessed. Usually he hated bumming rides. But a taxi was out of his price range, and his parents both worked late weekdays.

"Thank you again for the ride," Cas sighed. "You know I hate being a burden."

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Cas, we've been over this. I love driving. You're amazing. I want to do stuff for you, but I'm broke – so this is what I can do."

"I understand. I'm sorry, I just… Thank you. I really could not thank you enough."

Nodding, Dean winked at him. "I could think of a few ways you could thank me."

Laughing, Cas shoved him, and Deans started up the car with a grin. It growled like a beast and the pride in Dean's face was unmatched. Leaning back, Cas buckled in, and the moment Dean pulled out onto the road he rolled the window all the way down and pushed his head out, dark hair whipping. When he sat back again he was getting a strange look, and he laughed. "I feel like I'm flying," he explained. "It's been a… small habit since I was younger."

"I wish I could say I can help you fly whenever you want, but..." Dean chuckled. "There's not enough Red bull in the world for guys like us."

"I would do anything for wings. Real wings." Cas exchanged a smirk full of impossible dreams with Dean and looked out the window again.

Cas's house was across town, and the college was about twenty miles from town. They drove mostly in silence, with a few bits of conversation here and there. Where did his folks work, when did he want to be picked up. They decided three on Sunday was good – and Cas's parents were both in steady jobs. His mother had recently struggled out of her deep depression and held a job at the local college as a secretary. His father was an electrician.

When they lapsed into silence again, Dean reached over and rested his free hand on Cas's thigh, who looked up in surprise from winding a loose string in his jacket around his fingers. Blood rushed to both their faces, and Cas just barely managed to bite back a ridiculous grin, Dean pursing his lips and trying to act as cool as possible. But when he glanced over and their eyes met, his façade melted. Cas gave him a knowing look and put his hand over Dean's, sliding down a bit in the seat to lean his head back against the top of the seat. He let his mind drift from the scenery sliding by, to the rumble of the car, always keeping one point of thought on the heat pouring out of Dean's palm. Every now and then, he'd feel Dean's hand flex against his denim-covered flesh, as if checking mass of his thigh was a reminder that Dean wanted him to remember he was still there; still enamored with him. It was a comfort that made Cas's heart ache with affection.

The whole way, Cas was quiet mainly because he was nervous. He didn't plan this as just a usual few days with his parents and a few meals of real home cooked food. His bond with Dean grew every day – he wanted them to be a part of it, to know his life was on the mend. That he was on the mend. The ache for his sister would never go away, but at least now he didn't feel so alone, without peer companionship. Dean wasn't only his boyfriend (he cringed at the word) but he was his best friend, his connection. He'd never felt so at home in someone's arms before. It was a big thing for him – especially since Martius had been his only real relationship before this. He wanted them to know how he was growing, and healing. Mentally and emotionally.

After the thick town traffic, they maneuvered through a smushed-up little downtown block or two, practically empty, and bumped over railroad tracks on their way to a church on a crowded street corner. A left turn at their fence-encased graveyard, and two streets later, Cas pointed out his house to Dean. It was amid a few blocks of other suburban houses; maybe a little more run down. Down a steep grassy lawn slope - the driveway, treacherous - lay his home. The grass wasn't cut straight and the bushes were half-dead, and it needed a good paint job, but it was where he had grown up all his life. They climbed out, and Cas slung his bag over his shoulder, walking to meet Dean at the front of the car.

"I'm sorry you have to drive back alone." Cas smiled sheepishly, holding out his arms sadly, and Dean smiled as he embraced him.

"It's ok, I guess," he smirked into his neck. "I'll live." He pulled back a bit, smiling into Cas's hesitant expression. "I'll see you in a few days." Drawing him in, he left a warm kiss on his lips, the spark of longing and sadness being flinted from their tongues. He released him with a great force of will. Cas stood back as Dean walked back to the driver's side. He turned back, glancing him over. "If you need I'll be around, anything, you give me a call, all right? No, 'I'm a burden,' crap either. I'll have the car all weekend, so I'll be around. No need to hesitate. Got it?"

Nodding, Cas sighed. "I'll try. No promises." He managed.

"Have a good weekend, buddy," Dean flashed him a sad smile back before climbing into the car again and putting it in reverse. He backed back out into the street with those blue yes on him. Pulling away, he felt them burning into the back of his head. The first time they'd been apart in six months.