Note on the direction of the story: Is life all about me? Nope. Is life all about the person I just went out of a date with? Nope. Each of our lives is part of a complex matrix of history, relationships, hopes, themes, and hamartias that we need to hear if we are to understand each other's selves with anything more than superficial appreciation. I think the same thing should be reflected in romantic stories, including fan-fictions. I like 'tight-focused Destiel stories' (as Onjap put it) a lot, but I also like stories where I feel like I can fall into the world of the story and swim around with wonder. That's why I'm not focusing just on Dean and Cas in Simple Pleasures - - that'd get old after a while.

That said, enjoy this chapter's tight AU Destiel-ness!

Simple Pleasures ~ Chapter 5

"I should start off by apologizing. What you saw last night was undoubtedly disorienting and unpleasant, and I'm sorry," Castiel said from his seat in front of the café window.

"Disorienting?" Dean shot back. "Let's try fucked up. But, hey, it's not like you should be apologizing or anything. After all, you warned me that things were un-average around here, that there was un-average danger - the fuck does that even mean, unaverage?"

Castiel stared intently for a moment, somewhere between stern and curious. "How is that healthy?"

Dean frowned. "What?"

"How is that health-"

"I heard you the first time, I meant 'What' as in 'What the hell are you talking about?'"

"You certainly curse a lot," Castiel sighed. "I meant how is verbally attacking someone healthy? I can see that you are angry and upset, and you are right to be. But how is it healthy to slander someone? It makes you feel justified but not vindicated. There is no resolution or peace, only more anger."

Dean's mouth gaped like a fish out of water for a moment before he leaned in to hiss, "That thing shoved her hand into someone's face, and nearly killed two people while she was at it!"

Castiel's shoulders slumped. "Yes… and Meg has been put on probation for the month because of her behavior."

"Oh, yeah, that make me feel loads better. Just peachy," Dean said, sitting back and crossing his arms. The table was quiet for several beats. Castiel looked down at the mug of tea he brought with him and reached out to pick it up, but he merely turned it around in circles.

"What would make you feel better?" Castiel asked.

"What would make me feel-? If there weren't crazy psycho things like this around," Dean waved is arms around at the café. "That'd be an awesome start."

"What else?"

Dean blinked.

"You said that would be a start. What else would be needed to make you feel better?"

"Heh… a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey," Dean replied, though a scene from his youth popped into his mind, of his mother bringing his birthday pie over to him while he sat at the old dinner table.

"We do carry that…," Castiel muttered. "Though it's not used for mortal drinks…"

"Hey, here's a thing that will help me feel better, knowing what the hell all this is, what the hell is going on!" Dean said. Castiel glanced at the mother and daughter, who still seemed preoccupied with their own discussion, before tugging at his collar.

"I'll… try to explain, but I am not allowed to tell you very much," Castiel said. "This place is a way station-"

"Yeah, thanks, I know that already."

"For the recently deceased," Castiel continued. "Psychopomps roam the area for souls severed from their material vessels and bring them here before they go on to the shores of the River Acheron, where Charon will ferry them to their appropriate resting place."

"Hold up, you lost me at the Psycho-pompous-freaks," Dean said.

"Psychopomp," Castiel repeated slowly. "It means guide of souls. Psychopomps have been known as angels, spirits, ravens, demons, many different things, but really they're all just guides for Charon."

"Really? Could have fooled me with crazy lady over there," Dean said, rocking his head towards Meg. He studied the conversation at the distant table, hushed and intense enough to deepen the lines on Bobby's face considerably. "Though if you told me she was a demon I'd believe it. What are they talking about over there?"

"The same thing we are," Castiel replied. "Though your friend will receive a truncated explanation. He doesn't… his position here isn't as unique as yours."

"What does that mean?"

Castiel frowned. "I apologize, I am not permitted to tell you."

"Yeah, 'course not," Dean said.

Castiel shifted in his seat, shoulders low and hands in his lap. "You are not taking this as well as I hoped."

"Yeah well, I haven't had twelve hours to even think about this, to even start to get some bit of and idea what the hell I'm supposed to…," Dean didn't know how to finish, so he looked away instead, tapping his fingers on the table.

"…This feels bigger than you," Castiel said. "Perhaps too big?"

"More like fucking insane! I mean we're sitting here talking about psycho-pompous-head angel things and souls and it's, just, man, I have no idea."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Perhaps this is a vain thing for me to say, but… if you live with that feeling inside you for six months, you will be about where I am right now."

Dean stared for a moment. "So… what, you're a new psycho?"

"Psychopomp, and no, I'm human," Castiel said. "With benefits."

Dean popped an eyebrow. "S'that the intern thing what's-her-face was talking about?"

"Yes… in a sense, I am an intern in the employment of -," Castiel's tongue caught in his mouth, gagging him for a moment. He closed his lips and took a breath, reaching out for his mug and pulling it up for a sip. "I guess I'm not allowed to say."

Dean shook his head. "This is messing with my whole reality sense thing. Like… I expected a chance to pick the blue pill before going down the rabbit hole, you know? I bet you at least got that, but now..."

"… I don't understand the pharmaceutical reference," Castiel said.

Dean stared for a moment. "The Matrix?"

Castiel's eyebrows rose slightly, as if the word was merely interesting.

"C'mon, Morpheus, the One, humanity enslaved by machines, the bad-ass symbolism of Plato's Cave?"

"I know of Plato's allegory," Castiel said. "I don't understand how it applies in this situation."

Dean's mouth dropped. "Holy crap… What about Star Wars? You have to have seen Star Wars."

Castiel's head rocked to the side curiously. "Why would stars fight each other?"

"Jesus, what was the last movie you saw?" Dean asked.

Castiel's mouth opened for a moment, then he closed it and shrugged.

"How long have you been working here? Wait… you said six months?"

"More or less," Castiel replied.

"And what did you do before that?" Dean asked.

Castiel's lips tightened and he looked away, but he sighed, "I, uh… grieved, mostly."

Dean waited a few moments before asking, "You grieved? For what?"

"My family, and also myself," Castiel replied. His gaze flicked out to something beyond the front windows. "This… isn't a pleasant history to listen to, Dean. I will tell it if you want to know… given all that's happened recently I believe you deserve to know as much as I can tell you. After all, the greatest salve to an injury from truth is more truth…," He grinned unhappily and mumbled, "Perhaps Plato's allegory isn't inappropriate for this conversation."

"Yeah, sure, let's hear your sob story," Dean said. Castiel's winced.

"Slandering isn't healthy for you or the person you're attacking," Castiel replied. "It is all around unpleasant."

Dean took a breath and blinked several times. He glanced out the window at the stark winter day before looking back at Castiel. "That… sorry man, that was… I haven't had a lot of sleep, and all this, and… and a lotta people say they've got these bad pasts, and most of them are full of crap—"

"My family was killed in front of me," Castiel said, staring at his tea. "About a year ago. They… we… were very religious. Mormons, actually, from Ogden. After I realized…," he took a deep breath, still staring downwards. "After I realized that I can't… fall in love with women, there was a great deal of fighting. But my sister, Anna, never gave up on any of us, and after several years convinced my parents and other brothers and sisters to accept me. They even started a reform movement within the Church of Later Day Saints…

"Last June, my parents invited me to go with them on a mission trip, the first one I had been on with them since my realization… we went to Ciudad Juarez. It might have been corrupt policemen or a cartel, but nonetheless we were kidnapped and held for ransom, and when no money came from the state or the church… our kidnappers," Castiel swallowed. "Had some fun before shooting us and throwing us in the river… Meg was the one who found me. She delivered my family's souls and then waited for me to die along the riverbank, but… she broke the rules. Carried me to a hospital, and then…," Castiel looked up and around the café. "This."

While there had been many moments in Dean Winchester's life that had left him feeling like crap, there were few wherein he felt absolutely sure that he was, in fact, and ass-face douche bag. This was one of those moments. He struggled for words in the silence that followed, all to aware of how coarsely he'd talked at Cas since walking in the store a few minutes ago.

"You've had something similar happen to you, haven't you?" Castiel said. Dean's eyes snapped onto his, calm and knowing, just like the first time they saw each other. "I saw it when you first came in."

"Oh, well, uh, nothing like that," Dean said with a weak smile. His hands tapped the tabletop again, suddenly envious of Castiel's mug with which his fingers could fiddle.

"The cause isn't important when the end is the same," Castiel replied.

Dean didn't agree, but he wasn't about to argue. He shrugged and let out a long exhale as Castiel stared into his mug. "So… that's it? That's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. He took a sip of tea, then nothing. Eventually he said, "Yesterday was mint tea with watermelon extract, praline French vanilla cream, and powdered allspice… in case you… wanted to know."

"Thanks," Dean said. "It was… good."

"Not as good as the dragon pearls and brandied cherry juice, if I recall." Castiel said, hinting a grin.

"Heh, I bet souls taste even better," and WHAT THE FUCK was wrong with Dean's brain? He winced and stared at his hands, thinking 'Just die. Do that. Now."

Castiel frowned. "I don't—"

"You don't really eat them so much as swallow," Meg called over from her table. Castiel and Dean looked at her, on arm hanging off the back of her chair. "And the taste depends on the person, kinda like something else, know what I mean Cas?"

Both men stiffened. They knew what she meant but they weren't about to admit it. Well, one might in different circumstances.

The mother and daughter were no longer laughing; the younger was staring at Meg curiously while the mother's face turned horrified. She grabbed her daughter's hand and hurried them out of the café, muttering something about sinful vulgarity along the way.

"What, was it something I said?" Meg fked a pout.

"Yes," Castiel replied with a deep blush.

"Okay, I'm missing something," Bobby said, frowning at the dynamic duo that just left the building.

"Oh, that's okay Pops," Meg said. "Just talk to your boy-toy later, I'm sure he'll fill you in. Actually, he won't, but the look on his face will be priceless."

Dean evaded Bobby's confused stare by looking at Castiel, who seemed to be willing his tea to boil over and kill him. "Would you like anything to drink, Dean?" He asked while getting out of his chair. Meg started giggling, earning her his glare.

"No, uh, I'm good, thanks," Dean replied.

Castiel nodded. He stood there for a moment, looking down at his tea an alternating between which lip he was biting. "Again, I apologize for involving you in all of this."

"Yeah… thanks, I guess. Hold on, aren't you going to tell me that I can't tell anyone about any of this or you'll, I don't know, suck my soul or something?" Dean asked.

"No one is going to suck your soul, Dean," Castiel replied in an odd tone. "And how many people do you think would really believe you if you told them about what you've seen?"

"Hunh. Good point," Dean said. Castiel nodded once before wandering back to the front counter. Dean saw that Meg's conversation with Bobby was wrapping up to, prompting him to follow Castiel an ask, "Hey… why'd you guys tell Bobby what was going on too? I mean, I'm the one who comes 'round here, he's got nothing to do with anything."

Castiel face said he thought the reason was obvious, but eventually he sighed and smiled slightly. "Dean… No one deserves to carry the burden of a secret alone. When I was first brought into this… I only had Meg to talk to. You've… you've stumbled into this world, and I don't know if you'll stay in it or not, but either way I didn't want you to have to deal with it alone."

If there was a lie buried in what Castiel said Dean couldn't see it, though he certainly tried. After a few moments of staring into those blue eyes he had to look away, finding himself in need of a hard swallow. "Jesus… man, why do you even care? You hardly know me."

"…I don't wholly know why I care, but I would like to keep learning why," Castiel said, looking up to finish, "If you will permit it?

"…Is that some convoluted way of asking me if I'm going to keep coming around here?"

"I… yes."

Dean pressed his lips together for a moment, almost glancing at Bobby. "Yeah," He said quietly. "I think I'll keep coming round. But on one condition."

Castiel looked alarmed. "There are some promises I cannot make, but I will do my best to uphold what you ask of me."

"… See a fucking movie man. The Matrix, V for Vendetta, somethin', got it?"

Castiel paled. "That's… easier said than done. But I will try."

Dean nodded, hearing Bobby and Meg push themselves up from the table behind him. He knocked once on the counter-top before starting towards the door. "I'll, uh, swing by for that next drink… in a few days. Make it a good one."

Castiel's apprehension broke with a slight laugh and he nodded. Dean caught up with Bobby and walked out of the Obolus Café, ignoring whatever Meg was starting to say by letting the door slam behind them. The walk back to Levi was cold and quiet. They got in the car and bobby put his keys in the ignition, but didn't turn.

"Well," Bobby said, but then nothing.

After a few moments Dean replied with, "Believe me now?"

"This has got to be the craziest thing you have ever gotten me into, boy," Bobby said. "Souls?... Psychopomps?...I…" but he had nothing more to say. He exhaled loudly, started the car, and went to business turning around to get Dean back to his apartment.

"Bobby, I can drive, just take me back to the shop and I'll get home in the Impala."

"Heh, nope. After all this, all this, no I think it'll do you good not to be able to drive wherever the hell you wanna for a little while. I'll pick you up tonight so you can go and get it."

Dean wanted his baby, but… he also wanted to rest. His head was still spinning, from memories new and old, from lack of shut-eye, and from this nagging thought he couldn't shake. As Bobby pulled up in front of Dean's apartment complex he realized what the thought was centered on.

Castiel had said "I don't want to suck your soul."And it sounded weird. Because the inflection implied he wanted to suck something else.

Dean almost didn't make it to the bathroom.