As Castiel glided off to pick out cars in the open lot, Dean frowned at the sky, seeing heavy rain clouds and hearing distant thunder. With the taste of rain in the breeze it brought back memories from the accident that made him shiver. Beside him Sam glanced about, squinting. "So," he cleared his throat. "How much have you told Cas?" They were the only people in the lot. The buildings looked older and dark, although there was movement behind the desk that they could spy through a large window.
"About?" Dean questioned, picking a direction and walking in it. How many chicks he'd fucked? How many he'd left? How useless he was at taxes?
"About… dad. Our lives. Everything," Sam offered.
Dean walked up to a Sunbird and stared at his reflection in the window, clenching his jaw. When he'd first arrived he had stuck with the cover story of being in pest control. He hadn't told anyone, let alone Castiel, that he'd hunted ghosts and demons and monsters for a living. He wanted to make him think he was living in a safe world for a while longer. Making him aware of the danger they had faced daily was something that weighed on his mind. But as long as he was around to protect him, he figured Cas would be ok. Sighing, he looked up at Sam, shrugging. "Not much," he admitted. "I told him we had to do some shady stuff to get by sometimes, but otherwise he doesn't know."
"Ah." Sam grimaced. "Do you…?"
"Yes, I plan to," Dean snapped. "I just… don't know how. I don't want to, you know? He's got enough to worry about."
Sam nodded gently. "I know." He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "He's in it, though, with you. With us. You know that. You probably should let him know what you've really been doing for the past fourteen years."
Shrugging him off, Dean nodded, and angled himself to stalk back towards where Cas was. He didn't want to talk about it to Sam. His brother didn't get it. He'd been a monster hunter - a freak among freaks. At twelve he could've taken down a fully grown man. The muscles he'd built taunt shifted and ached from lack of use beneath his jacket, and every sense he had was flooded with edge teenager body language and too-dark corners he passed. This must be like what paranoid people feel like. And he was paranoid. But he was also damn good at his old job.
Sam was just flirting with some Jess girl. He'd never been in a relationship like this. Castiel was just a guy, he wasn't a fighter or a hardened hunter. He was built strong but he hadn't played a sport let alone fought off anything bigger than him in years. Every time Dean pictured him, he saw him sitting in his desk chair like when they'd first met, all lanky arms and soft blue eyes and a shy draw to his shoulders. He needed to be protected.
Walking up to Castiel, who was peering into a Ford Pinto, he couldn't help but smile. "Not that one. We're gonna go Chevy." He spoke up.
The dark haired male lifted his head and his curious gaze struck Dean, a shifting, royal blue rolling around in his irises. As it always did, it surprised him with the level of love behind it. The soft determination in the knit of his brow and the purse of his lips turned on Dean. "What do you suggest?" He asked curiously, his deep, gravelly monotone like music to his lover's ears. He'd let Dean get at Castiel again with a razor to get rid of the stubble he'd gathered over the week – clean shaven, jaw line chiseled, hair combed; he was damn striking.
Not to mention he had decided to wear his new clothing out in regular life, since he always had spares to wear to work, and today he looked very trim. Khaki skinny jeans, bunching up around his ankles and the worn black boots beneath them, hugged his waist at a low rise. A navy blue t-shirt with a curling white design of clockwork was beneath a thick canvas button down, a deep, dark gray. The collar was pressed and overall it was amazing how free of wrinkles he'd turned out to be. Overall the nice clothes helped deflect some animosity from other people. A sharp dressed man was always respected a bit more than a tousled novelty-tee addict.
Dean itched to rip the nice clothes off him, kiss him, hug him crushingly tight, or just stand and stare at him for hours. Although he himself had been wearing the same stuff for a few years, it was all canvas shirts that never went out of style and blank t-shirts and work boots. That was fine with him, it was what he liked. That and seeing Cas like this. He couldn't suppress a loving grin from blooming onto his face. "A truck." He replied.
Walking him over to a corner, Dean pointed out a 70s pickup that looked polished and practically new. It was baby blue, with a thick, neatly painted white stripe all around the center. Dean had researched this place before they came. Sam was looking into the window of the truck for the mileage and Castiel tilted his head affectionately. "I like it," he agreed easily, "Are you sure?"
Dean thought about what his dad would think. Not enough horse power, no place for the guns, too soft, too obvious. Paint it black. Cover the back. Tune it up. Buff out the rust spots, change the tires, premium gas only, so it runs well on long trips. His heart gathered in a dark cloud. But all that stuff was for their old life – hunting, outrunning things, toting weapons and salt and holy water… This life, the one he had now, was taking Cas to and from work, and winding lazily down narrow back roads on a beautiful summer day. He looked at Castiel instead of the truck and met his placid gaze with his own and the cloud scattered and vanished. A smile touched his lips. "Yeah. I'm sure."
As they paid the dealer, Dean stared at Cas's perfect bills, fresh from the bank, and then looked at his rumpled stack of $20s. "Cas, did you earn all that at work?" He asked.
"No," Castiel replied. "I've been saving for a year or so, doing odd jobs. Some of it is from my parents. They want to make sure we have a car." When the man took the money and left, Dean smiled at him.
"You mean you, right?" He tested.
"No, us. My parents… they've gotten used to the idea of us together." Cas blushed a bit, biting his lip and putting away his wallet. "I, of course, would not pressure that the car have both our names on the contract. I don't wish you to be obligated-"
"Cas." Dean interrupted. He reached over and pulled him close with as much subtlety as possible in a big open dealership, touching his lips to his cheek with one light motion. "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. Where you go, I go. The truck is ours." Pushing his cheek against Dean's shyly, Castiel nodded in silent relief, reaching out and grasping Dean's jacket with shaking fingers. A desperate 'thank you' communicated between them. He'd been scared Dean would agree, and when it was over between them, take the truck and his heart, too, if he left.
It was a promise, then. Dean laid it down and Castiel would hold him to it. Together, the both of them. They hovered together, looking over the paperwork, hips touching and hands and shoulders brushing as they did. Everything looked all right. They would pay it in full, which would be great for Cas's credit, and use the leftover for insurance. The dealer brought them the last papers to sign, and they handed them back perfectly finished. A key dropped into Dean's hand.
"She's all yours, boys," the older man winked. "Got about a quarter tank of gas in her. That'll get you to school and back here in no time – but you may want to fill her up before then."
Sam and Dean and Cas thanked the man and crowded around the truck. They pulled the sign out of the window and looked it over and popped the hood one more time before Castiel climbed into the driver's seat and marveled at the big steering wheel. Bench seat, dark blue leather interior. The radio worked and there was no CD player but they could fix that. He scooted over to let Dean drive, both of them buckled in, and the roar of the engine filled their ears. Sam laughed and waved good-bye, telling them to call if they needed anything else. Then they parted ways.
The truck drove like a dream, and as the Impala turned a corner and vanished, Dean gripped the steering wheel and looked out from his perch in his new truck and was riding cloud nine. Being your own man; step one, get a relationship; step two, get your own car; step three... Get your own place. Maybe he'd look at apartments in Colorado for after they graduated. He'd always wanted to live in Colorado. His head was buzzing with hopeful thoughts as Castiel sat watching him from the passenger's side, his dark was head against the big window, and a heart-warming smile was in his eyes.