"Everything'll turn out fine, I know it."
Actually, he doesn't know. He has no fucking clue whether anything's going to be okay or not, he just knows that's exactly what Castiel wants to hear because it's easier and simpler than telling him the truth.
He's repeated himself multiple times. So much that it's actually become a habit. Castiel will just say something and all Dean will say back is "everything will turn out fine". And maybe if he says it enough, it'll convince himself too.
They had spent all day getting ready for this. When they woke up this morning, they had gotten straight to work. Castiel had rapidly ran through the house and dusted and wiped down every surface, despite the fact that everything had already been clean before. Dean had spent his time in the kitchen, cooking and baking, getting the meal prepared for tonight.
They had sat down on the couch together and reviewed over and over what they were each going to say. Of course, whatever Castiel said had just managed to go in one ear and right out the other, and the only thing Dean saw was Castiel's lips moving, although he couldn't make out anything of what he was saying. And besides, Dean wouldn't listen anyways, even if he could hear him. He would be too stubborn to follow Castiel's rules.
Dean isn't scared. He isn't freaking out like a child. He's not complaining and whining again and again about how he wishes this wouldn't happen. Because he doesn't know what's going to happen. And it's the uncertainty, the doubt, the unsureness — that's what's making him so indecisive about his feelings. He doesn't know what cards are going to be dealt to him. He doesn't know the cards being dealt to the others.
He's just going to have to play the game.
Dean is setting the three white ivory plates onto the dining room table when Castiel comes rushing down the stairs.
"Is this too formal?" Castiel splays his arms out when he reaches the bottom step. Dean sets the last plate down and smiles when he sees the blue tie, black suit, and tan trench coat he missed so much. Yeah, it is a little too formal, but Dean doesn't want him to change out of it.
Dean shakes his head. "Not at all."
Castiel exhales and nods slowly. "You should change. I don't think she will like that shirt."
Dean scoffs, "What? Mommy's not a fan of classic rock?" He laughs and gestures to his black Led Zeppelin shirt. Castiel frowns.
"No, Dean." Castiel adjusts the tie, "She's not a fan of anything."
Dean's smile fades quickly. It's not hard to tell that the moment his mother steps through that door, everything will change. Dean steps closer to Castiel, still stupidly adjusting his tie on the last step.
"Cas," Dean starts, leaning a shoulder against the sleek wooden railing, "Everything'll turn out—"
"No, Dean!" Castiel raises his voice, throwing his hands down to his sides. He looks Dean so hard in the eye that no matter how hard Dean tries to pull them away, he can't. "You don't understand, everything won't turn out fine."
Dean stiffens. He can feel the skin on his arms grow cold. He steps from the wooden railing and positions himself in front of Castiel, grabbing the sides of his arms tightly. "I'm here, aren't I?"
Castiel's eyelids twitch. "Yes."
"So, tell me, what's going to happen to you?" Dean asks, knowing quite well that Castiel knows the answer just as well as he does. But, Castiel remains silent, eyes staring so concentrated on the floor. Dean tightens his grip on Castiel's arms.
"What's going to happen to you, huh?" Dean repeats. Castiel still doesn't answer. Dean moves his grip from his arms to the sides of his face, "Huh, Cas?" He repeats louder.
Castiel's lips move, and he mutters something out so silently that Dean can't hear it.
Dean moves closer to him. "What was that?"
"Nothing." Castiel says, his eyes finally deciding to take the chance to look at Dean, "I said nothing."
Dean nods, eyebrows creasing seriously. "Exactly. Nothing is going to happen to you while I'm here. I mean it."
And he does. He does mean it. He'll be damned if anything does happen to Castiel under his control. He doesn't know anything about what's going to happen, but he does know one thing for sure: that Castiel won't get hurt.
Dean's hands slide to the back of his head, and Dean slowly strides to the step Castiel rests on, pulling him in close so that Castiel's face in buried deep into the crease of Dean's neck. And they stay like that until Dean starts to feel Castiel's heart beat reside smoother in his chest. Castiel's heated breath his warm and shaken on Dean's neck, and every time Castiel exhales against Dean's skin, he holds him tighter.
Castiel leans back and smiles at Dean.
"I know." Castiel says in confidence.
It's the ugliest grey suit that Dean has ever seen. Even from the distance of him peeking through the curtain and out the window to watch Castiel's mother get out of her slick black Audi, Dean almost positive that the suit most certainly should be burned off the planet.
And he thought the suit that Castiel lent him was ugly.
Dean's too far away to make out details of her body; her hair color, her eyes, how many wrinkles the old hag has on her face. She stops for a second to take a look at the house, placing her hands on her hips and puffing her chest out gradually.
"Is she here?"
Dean lets go of the curtain and turns around to face a most horrified Castiel. Dean shrugs.
"Is she wearing a grey suit?" Castiel asks again.
"Unfortunately." Dean responds with a smirk. Castiel frowns and Dean can see his chest start to rise and fall quickly, "Does she have forty-nine other different shades of grey suits?"
Castiel scowls at him. Dean laughs and takes a last peek out the curtain. "So, did she bring along Christian Grey, or what?" Dean laughs again. Castiel steps forward and slaps him across the arm.
"This is not a time for jokes, Dean." Castiel says angrily. Dean grins to himself and backs away from the window. Castiel turns to Dean and nods, "Go to the kitchen. I'll get the door."
Dean does what he's told, walking to the kitchen and making use of himself by taking out silverware and napkins. Castiel is pacing back and forth in front of him in the dining room, running hands across his hair to smooth it down.
And then, there's the knock.
The three slow, hard, strikes against the wood that inadvertently make Dean jump every time he hears the noise.
And then, he's terrified.
He's been telling himself over and over that he was fine, that he could handle this, that he could take control; but the truth is, he doesn't know if he can handle this, he doesn't know if he can take control. Everything is just unknown.
Dean watches Castiel stride to the door, gripping the knob for a few seconds before he twists it and begins to let the door swing. Dean looks away and reverts his attention back to the silverware in his hand. He can hear her voice. It's low and raspy, kind of vaguely, witch-like. He can hear the click of her heels against the wooden floor, getting louder and louder.
Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.
He glances.
She's already staring at him.
"Castiel, introduce me."
Her dark red hair is tied back into a bun, bangs hung tightly over her forehead. She's very well kept, not what Dean had expected at all; instead having very smooth skin for her age, pursed lips glassed with lipstick and blushed cheeks. Her eyebrows crease down, not much, but enough to make her threatening. Dean can tell where Anna gets the looks from, with her dark red hair and intimidating demeanor. She looks nothing like Castiel, except for her eyes. Castiel has his mother's eyes.
And Dean was right about the suit being absolutely hideous. Even more so up close.
"Mother, this is Dean Winchester." Castiel says.
Castiel's mother sticks her hand out forward. Dean stares at it for a second before gripping it loosely. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Milton."
"Please," She tilts her head, "Naomi."
"Naomi." Dean repeats, letting go of her hand. Dean hears Castiel swallow next to him. So far, so good. Or at least, Dean thinks so.
"Well we shouldn't let this wonderful meal go to waste," Naomi portrays a half-ass smile and gestures her hand towards the dining room, "Shall we?"
Dean nods, allowing Castiel's mother to lead to the table first. As soon as she turns around, Castiel glances at him and smiles. He also gives a slight nod. Dean obviously concludes that's a good thing, given as he hasn't screwed up anything yet, and he doesn't further intend to.
Dean slides down in the chair across from Naomi, letting Castiel take the head spot. It's completely silent when they sit down, and continues for a few moments after. Dean wanders his eyes aimlessly and sees Castiel reach for his glass of water.
Castiel's mother slaps his arm.
"Castiel!" She spits at him, tilting her head, "Grace."
Castiel clears his throat as his mother tightens her old fingers around his hand. Castiel grabs Dean's hand quickly. Then, Naomi reaches her other hand forward and opens it up softly to Dean. Dean takes it without hesitation, although his fingers are a bit shaky.
Castiel inhales sharply, "Bless, O Lord, this food to our use and us to thy service, and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others. In Jesus' Name, Amen." He says quickly in one short breath, without any hesitation or stutter to his voice.
Naomi mutters "Amen" under her breath and then reaches for her glass of water. Dean reaches for his too, only because he's waiting for someone else to grab food first so he doesn't have to initiate it. Castiel reaches for a piece of bread.
"So, Dean," Naomi says, resting her glass perfectly onto the coaster, "Tell me, what do you do?"
Shit.
A part of him wants to lie about it a little, portray himself as more successful than he actually is, but a part of him knows he will eventually regret lying to this woman. Dean's stomach twists, but he tells the truth, "My Uncle and I own an auto-repair shop." Dean nods and reaches for a piece of bread.
Naomi nods, her facial expression unchanging from it's seriousness. "So, you're a mechanic?"
Castiel huffs at his mother's snarky response. "Yes, he's an excellent one at that, too."
Dean glances at Cas. Castiel has never actually seen him in action while working on a car, but Dean knows that Castiel is only trying to amp-up Dean's appearance. Dean feels incredibly judged. Yes, he's felt judged before, but never quite like this. For the first time, he knows what it feels like to stand naked on stage.
"Saving old cars, fixing things, the family business," Dean adds, with a smirk, finally loading his plate with food,"I was born into a family of mechanics, really."
Naomi's expression still doesn't change. "Ah, family business. Siblings?"
Shit shit shit shit.
Castiel shoots him a look; one that Dean has never seen before.
Dean nods. "Uh, yes."
Naomi cuts harshly into a piece of steak. "Do they accompany you in your, family business?"
Dean clears his throat and glances toward Castiel again, chewing slowly and letting his eyes flicker between Dean and his mother. Dean can see it in his face. He's not talking at all, but Dean can hear him as clear as day.
"Don't say it."
Dean almost listens to him. He almost doesn't say it. But you know fucking what? If Dean is going to be with Cas, and Cas is going to be with Dean, Dean needs to be honest with his family. He needs Castiel's family to accept him for who he is, just like Dean's family had accepted Castiel. Minus John, of course. So, for a moment, Dean almost listens.
"My younger brother, Sam, he's a lawyer. Just got hitched a few days ago, actually."
Castiel swallows distinctively hard. Dean forks a few pieces of buttered pasta and stuffs it in his mouth.
Naomi clears her throat. "You're brother is a lawyer, and you're a mechanic?"
"That's right," Dean sighs. Naomi purses her lips and nods, however she doesn't say anything after that. She's silent. Completely dead silent. And for a few seconds, there's only the faint sound of the silverware clashing against the plates. Castiel rubs Dean's knee for a second under the table. Maybe Castiel's mother wasn't as bad as Castiel had made her out to be. Obviously she seems a bit problematic, but she hasn't been a complete ass to Dean yet.
So maybe, just maybe this dinner will last more than thirty minutes. Because God knows that Dean's last family diner had a total run time of only twenty; probably not even that long. So maybe, just fucking maybe they'll make it to the end of the meal.
Dean starts to swallow his food a little better. He looks up from his plate and smiles genuinely at Castiel, and Castiel smiles right back.
"So a lawyer, huh?"
Dean breaks his glance from Castiel and focuses his attention to Naomi, already staring at him with pure disgust.
Dean parts his lips and hesitates for a few moments, "Uh—"
"What made you want to pursue a career in automotive vehicle repair?" Naomi cuts him off and puts her silverware down.
Make it to the end of the meal, my ass.
"Like I said, it was a family business thing," Dean says.
And yes, that's not a lie. But, he isn't telling the entire truth. He had gotten stuck with the mechanic job because any other job at the time would've prevented Dean from being there for Sam. The auto-repair shop was a part time job that did the trick. Dean didn't have time for anything else. No time for school, no time for jobs, no time for nothing. It was all just Sam. Dean was twenty-two when Sam left for college, and without his own college degree, the only job that Dean was either going to get was the one he already had, or a job at McDonald's.
Naomi just nods her head again, "You know, Castiel is the CEO of a payroll company."
Dean smiles, "Yeah, he's told me all about it. Seems like a pretty hard-ass job if you ask me. Sitting in those square box things all the time."
Castiel giggles a little, but then immediately stops when his mother shoots him a glare.
"My son worked very hard to get where he is today," She says sternly at him, "And I—"
"Mother," Castiel cuts her off, "Please."
His mother hesitates to stop, her lips quivering and urging to speak again but she eventually lets them seal shut. Castiel rubs Dean's knee underneath the table again. It soothing, but also vaguely terrifying; because it means that Castiel wants him to keep pushing through this. But the thing is, Dean doesn't want to keep pushing through this. It's awkward and unnerving and just all levels of uncomfortable and Dean just hates it. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. He knows Naomi knows that they've slept together, because that's why she's here; because Michael called about Castiel's marks, which were all Dean's fault.
And it's just so fucking awkward.
Naomi pleasantly dabs her mouth with a napkin and then carefully begins to eat again, forking a few green beans. Her fork his forcibly hard on the plate. She stops stabbing her plate and looks forward, flicking her eyes back and forth between Dean and Castiel.
She looks down at her plate again. "I apologize." She says calmly.
"Do not apologize to me, Mother." Castiel shakes his head and looks sternly to her, "Apologize to Dean."
Damn, atta' boy, Cas.
Dean bites the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. Like seriously, you go, Cas. He's been quiet the whole night pretty much, and of course when he does talk, it's with sincere attitude. Dean's got a keeper, that's for sure.
Naomi swallows and looks towards Dean, "Dean, I apologize for my behavior."
Dean nods and reverts his attention back to his plate. "Forgiven."
"But—"
Dean perks up and looks at her again. Her lips are parted and twitching, eyes wandering aimlessly below her. She doesn't respond for a while, and eventually Dean just decides to ignore it, picking up his cup of water and bringing his lips to the edge of the glass.
"But, you cannot be with my son."
Dean chokes on his water.
Castiel shoots up out of his seat, "Excuse me?"
Naomi stands directly after, throwing her napkin hard onto the table. "Castiel, I forbid you to see this man. Ever."
Castiel winces. "Mother, I will not—"
"Castiel, enough!" Naomi yells, stepping closer to her son, "How many times have I told you? How many times have I showed you, that this is a sin! You are not allowed to be with this man!"
"I can be with whoever I please!" Castiel yells right back at her, not even taking a quick second to hesitate. Dean is completely frozen in the chair, holding his breath and squeezing his pants so tight he thinks he might rip a hole through the fabric.
Naomi's face begins to turn malevolent, and she holds a pointed finger at him. "No, Castiel, you cannot. It is against my word!"
"And you're not God! God loves all of Earth's creatures. And you are no fucking God."
Naomi gasps. "How dare you speak to me like that!" She raises her arm slightly, her palm unraveling. But her hand begins to shake, and she lowers it slowly.
Castiel's face sinks. "Go ahead. Hit me. I don't care. I'm a homosexual, and I don't fucking care. You can't change me, Mother, though you try."
Naomi's fist clenches tightly, and she lowers her arms down to her sides. "Castiel, I am going to tell you one more time, you cannot be with this man."
Castiel stands in front of her and shakes his head, his lip rolled into a thin line and his eyes so contently staring into hers. "Get out of my house."
His mother stiffens. "Castiel!"
"Get the fuck out of my house!" Castiel repeats, louder this time, his voice booming so loud it echoes through the house. Naomi's chest starts to quicken, and she begins to raise her arm again.
And she doesn't hesitate at all this time.
She hits him hard against the side of the face, and the sound echoes louder than Castiel's voice. And Dean doesn't hesitate to stand up at all after that. His legs stress to work, but they stand, and he rushes to Castiel's side, but Castiel puts a hand against his chest and holds him back. Dean reaches a hand forward, but somehow finds that his arms have become too heavy to hold up, so he just stands there in the middle of it all without a word.
"Once again, I prohibit you from seeing this man, Castiel! You are coming home with me!" She yells, and then draws her attention towards Dean, "And you! Do you realize what you have done?!"
Dean parts his mouth but Castiel cuts in, "Don't you dare bring him into this!"
"I may do as I damn well please!" Naomi screams at Castiel, and then holds her finger to Dean's face, "You are not allowed to see my son, do you understand me?"
"I'm not letting you take him away from me," Castiel pushes Dean behind him, "I'm not!"
"You will! You are!"
"NO!" Castiel's yells. His screams are getting louder, and Dean can feel his shoulders begin to creep up to his ears to block the noise.
"You ARE!"
"But I fucking love him!"
Naomi freezes.
Dean freezes.
Castiel's mother dims down her voice to a harsh whisper. "You-you what?"
Dean can hear Castiel's quick breaths. "You heard me. I love him. I fucking love him. So, I suggest you get the hell out of my house before I alert the authorities."
His mother takes a step back and swallows, her eyelids twitchy against glassy and red eyes. She looks around for a second, and then stomps out the door, her heels clicking forcefully against the wood. Dean watches her red hair leave, and her ugly grey suit, and he watches the door slam so hard the pictures on the wall become askew. And neither of them start breathing again until they hear the wheels of the car speed off the dirt driveway.
And as Dean watches the headlights of the car disappear into blackness, he becomes sure of two things:
1. Castiel Milton is in love with him.
2. He is: So. Fucking. Screwed.