Dean sets his packed suitcase down at the door. He pulls his brown leather jacket off the coat-hanger and throws it on carefully. He dabs his back pocket to make sure his plane ticket is secured in the fabric. He checks his phone for the time.
9:00 AM
Dean shakes his head. He can't believe he's up this early. But then again, he needs to get there as soon as he can. He told the cab driver to come ten minutes after nine, so he still has some time to reminisce in the debris of the house.
With a deep breath, he makes his way to the kitchen, and he sits in one of the black stools accompanying the island. Dean smiles to himself and places a warm hand on the cold granite counter.
"Peanut butter and jelly?" Castiel said. He looked up at Dean and shrugged. "We didn't have anything else in the house. I'll have to go shopping tomorrow. I-I hope you don't mind."
Dean remembers taking the sandwich gladly. "Man, I haven't had one of these in a long time. Thanks, Cas."
"You should get sleep in a comfortable environment tonight. I made up your bed."
Dean stopped chewing. "What do you mean, my bed?"
"Well, I—" Castiel shrugged"—I assumed you wanted your own bed."
"Why would you think I'd want my own bed?"
The swarm that arises in his stomach is happy and sad. Dean remembers the sweet taste of his lips. And also the extremely hot sex they had a few minutes later, but that's beside the point.
Rising from the stool, he makes his way out to the backyard. This is his first time coming out here before noon. It's stunning, and everything is alive and full of color. He's going to miss it. He really is. Everything about the lake; the smell of fresh air, the beauty, the sense of being at home. He's even going to miss all the bugs.
"Oh," Castiel blushed, "Well, do you like it? We could sleep out here, if you wanted. It's warm enough, and I have blankets inside."
Dean remembers the look on Castiel's face. The way he seemed so eager for Dean's approval, the need for reassurance. "Love it, Cas."
"I grew up here. No one ever comes here anymore. It's truly a shame. The lake is so beautiful. This place belonged to my parents. They gave it to us. Anna, Michael, Gabriel and I, but we rarely ever come up to Kansas anymore. Lawrence, Kansas isn't the ideal place to be, according to my siblings."
"Well, we're here now."
Dean sighs and begins walking back into the house. He knows that if he stays much longer, he won't be able to leave at all. He shuts the patio door and locks it. Dean checks his phone again.
9:05
He has time to run up to the second floor. So he does, skipping every other step on the stairs, making his way eagerly to the bedroom. When he sees the room, for the last time, he realizes how sad he actually is.
"Are you ready, Dean?" Castiel asked, hand rubbing Dean's jawline, their bodies tightly pressed together.
Dean remembers feeling nervous. He remembers feeling vulnerable. However he nodded, because he meant it.
"I'm ready."
Dean knows he lost something that night. And no—it wasn't just his anal virginity, but he knows that he lost the fear of loving again. Dean knows now that that was the moment when he knew he loved Castiel. Castiel had shaped him back into what he thought could never be regained: a man. Castiel had proven to Dean that he isn't the only one broken — and because of that, Dean realizes that it's okay to be broken.
Dean sits on the edge of the bed and cups his face in his hands.
I'm such a fucking MORON.
Dean can't believe he let this happen. Everything he's done to keep Castiel with him he feels like he wasted. He should've said he loved him when he knew. He should've fucking said it. Castiel should've known that he was loved.
Had Dean really even protected him at all?
Two car honks come from outside.
The cab is here.
Dean knows it's time to go, but he really doesn't want to. This place gave him everything he could've ever wanted. A real home. A family. And now Dean doesn't know if he'll ever see it again. Dean glances quickly around the bedroom, and then notices a small, brown book on Castiel's nightstand.
Castiel's journal.
Another two honks come, and Dean hastily runs to grab the book from the nightstand, makes his way downstairs and leaves the house without looking back.
As Dean sits at gate 34 waiting for his flight to board, he realizes that sitting there is harder than he thought. Everywhere he looks he swears he can see a quick whip of a trench coat out of the corner of his eye. He rubs sweaty palms on his jeans.
A young girl with a Kansas University sweatshirt and long, brown, and wavy hair sits diagonal from him; she keeps looking up and smiling, batting her eyelashes at him. Her brown eyes are piercing.
It has no effect on Dean. It actually is downright pissing him off and is making him anxiously await his departure.
He digs in his carry-on bag until he finds the brown journal. He rubs the clasp on the side with his thumb and unhooks it, hesitating for a second before flipping it open. It's wrong to be reading Castiel's journal, and Dean knows that. But he can't help himself. What if Castiel said something about him? About his feelings? Dean has to know. He flips around a few pages until he sees "Day 1" written in bulk writing at the top of the page. It's dated September 22nd.
Day 1 - September 22nd
I met someone today. His name is Dean Winchester. He is currently passed out drunk in my hotel room.
We didn't get off to a great start. I made the mistake of listening to Gabe, and that inevitably got my ass into trouble. However we came to good terms - or at least I thought we had come to good terms, but now I think something must be wrong. Dean was angry, and yelling and saying it was all my fault. I don't know what was my fault, but he seemed as if I had committed murder.
I assume I will find out what I did in the morning. And if I don't, I won't ask.
Dean seems like a good guy. A really good guy. He has an intimidating presence, however something tells me if you dig a little he won't be so intimidating.
He's beautiful. I stare at him a lot, but I can't help it. I hope he doesn't think I'm...creepy.
I also hope that we can be friends.
Dean shuts the journal and closes his eyes. Reading Day 1 had somehow calmed him.
The overhead speaker on Gate 34 crackles, and a low, monotone voice speaks, "Excuse me, flight 923 to New York will now start to board. All handicapped passengers and all passengers who need assistance will board first, followed by first class and extra leg-room seats."
The girl with the Kanas University sweatshirt stands from her seat, flips her hair, and starts walking toward Dean. Dean sighs and puts his head down, awaiting for her appearance.
"Hey, you look very familiar, do you go to Kansas University?"
Dean looks up at her, her brown eyes glassy and dilated. She obviously knows that he doesn't go to the school, but Dean has to admit that it was a good pickup line, and probably one that he would use as well. Dean can see the blush rising in her cheeks. She looks sweet, innocent, her olive skin smooth and porcelain. Something about her comes across as mischievous, though. Dean thinks about what to say for a minute. And instead of saying, "No, I'm just visiting the area, but thank you.", like he planned to say, he says something that comes from the deepest, darkest cave in his mind.
"I'm gay, sorry."
Her eyes widen immensely, and she looks stunned, "Bummer," She says with a grin, "All the good ones are either gay or taken."
Dean gulps. He's wicked embarrassed. He doesn't even know where the actual fuck that came from. He's not 100% gay, and he knows that. The fact of the matter is that he loves Castiel, and he doesn't feel any level of attraction toward anyone else.
Maybe he said it so she could back off, or maybe because he loves a man at the moment...whatever it is, he doesn't know.
"I'm sorry to disappoint." Dean says back to her. The rouge in her cheeks had multiplied greatly but she seems very relaxed. Her wide cheeks form small dimples as she tries to release a smile. Dean can tell she's embarrassed on the inside.
Wouldn't you be if you hit on someone shooting for the other team?
"Have a good flight," She says, winking at him and backing away.
Dean awkwardly smiles and wishes that he could vanish of the face of the earth.
The overhead speaker crackles again, "Now boarding rows ten to twenty."
Dean stands and approaches the gate entrance. The attendant scans his ticket, and soon he is walking down the tunnel to board the plane.
He steps onto the plane and a flight attendant smiles at him, "Hi, sir. Where are you sitting?"
"Seat 15B, but I can manage. Thank you." Dean says with a forced smile. He begins to walk down the isle until he sees his row. He stops.
Why does this always happen to me.
Kansas University girl looks up at him from seat 15A. A small smirk grows on her face, "If you were straight this could've been a much better flight."
Dean grins. He somehow likes this girl. She unbuckles her seatbelt and stands so he can sit down. By the time he's seated and buckled, Kansas girl already has her headphones plugged in. Dean can hear the heavy metal music vaguely through the small speakers. Dean decides to leave her alone for the long flight.
It's an hour into the flight and Dean hasn't done anything else than look out the window at the clouds. He wants to do something else, but frankly he doesn't really have the energy to do it. He's not really sure he has the energy to do anything, and for a moment, he feels a depressed aura around him.
A flight attendant approaches his row, "Can I offer you guys refreshments?" She asks kindly.
Kansas immediately unplugs her headphones, "Got any liquor in that rolling cart of yours?"
The flight attendant smiles and nods, "I'm going to have to see some identification, please."
Kansas rolls her eyes and shuffles in her bag for her wallet. She's got Dean's attention, though; the way she carries herself is very egocentric, and to Dean it's very entertaining. Kansas shows her ID and then the flight attendant takes out small bottles of vodka and whiskey. She takes one of each.
"Anything for you, sir?" The attendant locks eyes with Dean.
"What do you have for snacks?" Dean asks. Kansas chuckles at him.
"Crackers and cookies."
"Cookies." Dean says right away. She hands him a pack and then turns to the other row. Dean looks at the back of the package, "I wonder what these things are made of. You think they're made of recycled cardboard?"
Kansas takes out her headphones, "Do I look like Google to you?"
Dean's mouth gapes in awe at her response, "Guess not." He says.
What a bitch.
"Don't take it personally," Kansas says, opening her small bottle of whiskey, "I'm like this to everyone."
Dean huffs a laugh, "You must have a great family bond, then."
"Not so much," Kansas puts one headphone back in and moves her brunette hair behind her ear, "The amount of times that I blamed shit on my siblings...I'm surprised they all don't have a restraining order."
"That's what being family is all about though, right?" Dean agrees.
Kansas looks unamused, "If you say so. My siblings always called me little demon." She grins, "I'm coldblooded at heart. I wake up in the morning sometimes and wonder when my black eyes are going to show up."
All Dean does is smile. Something about her is comforting. Her eyes are intimidating, but they just have this presence that makes him feel relaxed. He has no idea why, but Dean finds a sense of comfort in talking to this egoistically inclined girl that he knows barely anything about other than the fact that she has the word 'troublemaker' plastered onto her pretty face.
She grins at him and then plugs the other headphone in. Dean suddenly hears the faint sound of rock-and-roll. Kansas shuts her eyes and tilts her head to the side. Dean decides to leave it at that.
He takes out Castiel's journal and flips through a few pages.
Day 4 - September 26th
We went to Disneyland today. I've never had so much fun with someone before. He took me onto Splash Mountain. I completely embarrassed myself in the process, but somehow everything turned out alright in the end.
Dean has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Sometimes I find myself unable to stop looking at him. It isn't even just his eyes, it's the way he makes me feel protected, like I am the only thing he is thinking about at the moment.
I can't stop wondering what he feels. He said that he was getting married, but sometimes I can't help but notice when his eyes linger, or his cheeks blush.
Somehow I feel as though when it is time to part, it's going to be harder than I think it is.
Dean stops reading when he feels his stomach drop a little. Castiel was right - when he left, it was the hardest thing Dean has ever had to feel. He flips to another page in hopes of a happy memory. This one does not have a date, nor a day at the top of it.
It's 2 AM. I'm tired, exhausted, and sore. And completely, utterly, in awe.
The man I thought was straight, the man I thought was out of my league, the man I thought was so imperfectly perfect, just... fucked the absolute shit out of me .
Dean covers his mouth and chuckles.
I can't comprehend what I feel right now, because I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I know that I like him a lot. I probably shouldnt've slept with him, because now I dread the time when I have to leave him. But, I just couldn't help myself. Everything about it was just perfect.
I'm just hoping I can make it last.
There's more written on the page, but for some reason Dean doesn't want to finish. Instead he flips through to the very last page where he sees writing.
October 2nd
I'm not as sure of this as I was before. He is still here and well, but something seems to be bothering him. I'm fairly sure a great deal of it belongs to the incident with his father...I remain unable to mention the incident. I can tell it's too difficult for him to talk about.
And I don't want to intrude on his feelings, especially if I'm unsure of where this path is taking us.
I like him. I really do...to the point where I fear I may be in way over my head. I'm afraid to ask him about his feelings for me. I want to, very badly, but I shouldn't ask questions that I do not want to know the answer to. I am finally in a place where I feel safe, protected, trusted.
I do not want to lose that.
I do not want to lose him.
But I'm afraid to ask him to stay.
Dean shuts the journal immediately. He suddenly feels like shit. Castiel was finally happy with what had come out of their relationship, and somehow Dean had to turn it all around and ruin it. He knew somehow he'd fuck it up one way or another. Now it was just proving to Castiel that what he heard with Lisa was not the truth.
He was afraid to ask me to stay.
Castiel should've done it. Dean would've said yes. He would've had to think about it, and maybe he would've been skeptical about it at first, but now Dean knows for sure that he wants to be with Castiel for a very, very long time.
Dean stuffs the book back into his bag and decides not to take it out anymore. He leans his head against the plane's wall and looks out the window for the rest of the flight.
Two hours later, he finds himself being shoved harshly on the shoulder.
"Wake up sleeping beauty, time to rise and shine."
Dean rubs his eyes and sees Kansas nudging his shoulder. He hadn't even remembered when he fell asleep. Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and stretches his legs. He's here. One step closer to the address.
Dean anxiously squirms in his seat until the people on the plane begin to file out. He exits the plane and smiles slightly when he steps onto the platform. He can remember perfectly the way Castiel stood waiting for him, the way his trench coat sleeves hung too low on his hands, the small smile on his face when he saw Dean exit the plane. He's give anything to go back to that day; for another chance to make everything right.
Dean gets caught so far up in daydreaming that he bumps into the person in front of him. Kansas turns to glare at him. She slowly takes out her headphones and raises vain eyebrows at him.
Dean raises open palms, "Sorry, Kansas, got distracted."
The girl makes a disturbed face, "Kansas?" She grins, "Already giving me nicknames, huh? I guess this is moving faster than I thought."
Dean shrugs, "Sorry, I didn't get your name." He says, stepping off the platform tunnel and into the busy airport. The girl looks at him with slim eyes and takes a step away from him.
"That's because I didn't give it," She calls to him, backing away even further. Dean wants to follow her but ends up taking steps backward.
"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester," He speaks loudly, almost at a soft yell. Kansas grins at him, plugging her headphones back into her ears and shaking her head. She's distant in a swarm of faces now, and the logo on her sweatshirt is becoming hard to read.
She yells back, just before she disappears into the crowd, "I'm Meg. Meg Milton."