Chapter 5: Glass
When Dean woke up around twelve o'clock he was disappointed when he felt that the place beside him in bed was empty. He missed that warmth, which was ridiculous because they hadn't even made it to the bed. Also, how could you miss something you'd never had? Dragging himself out of bed, he put the coffeemaker to work and dressed. After a particularly strong cup of coffee, he went over to Sam and Jess.
Jess opened the door; looking a little worse for the wear. She was slightly hung over and happy not to have classes today. Dean wanted to ask about the spare keys to his apartment, because he clearly needed more sets of keys than just the spares now in his apartment and kept at their place. Maybe he needed to hide keys all over the city, so that whenever he lost them he would just have to walk around the corner and he could fish them out of a tree or dig them up from under a bush. Stupid idea. He needed to put his keys in his locker like all the other firemen did.
The keys were not the reason he was there, though he did mention losing them to Jess. Bleary eyed, she looked up from pouring coffee into two cups.
'You lost your keys again? Dean, seriously,' she chided him. Her voice sounded hoarse and a tad broken. Must have been a fun party for her, Dean thought. Then again, it didn't end so badly for him either. He opened his mouth to tell her about what a douche Richard had turned out to be, but shut it in time. Like Sam, Jess was very protective of him and he wouldn't put it past her to punch Richard in the face the next time she saw him. In addition, she would tell Sam and Sam would probably think that Dean had imagined that patronising laugh. And Dean guessed it might be hard to find a decent squash partner, after your girlfriend punched the previous one in the face. So, he resolved not to tell them.
'How did it work out with James?' Jessica asked and he knew she was going for innocent, but instead she sounded curious. As she peered at him over her steaming cup of coffee, he suspected that the cup was hiding a devilish smile.
'You gave him my address? Why the hell would you do that?'
'Because he asked me for it,' she simply answered. It was a miracle he hadn't been maimed or killed or worse, yet, if they kept handing out his address to every nut who asked for it. What if Richard had asked for it? It didn't bear thinking about.
'He could have been a stalker,' Dean protested. She took a sip and sighed contentedly. While Dean remained standing at the counter, refusing the cup she had slid towards him as a peace offer, she sat down at the kitchen table.
'And, was he?' she queried. Of course, he hadn't been. I mean, Dean thought, not really. He didn't have hot sex with strange stalker like types, did he? Castiel had been at the fires and he hadn't actually explained what he had been doing there. Dean had meant it as a joke, because he hadn't thought that Castiel had been there for him. Watching him. However, now he started to think that maybe that had been the case.
'I haven't decided yet,' he grumbled and after a nudge from Jessica he accepted the coffee and sat down too.
'You two seemed to be getting along well enough at the party. I couldn't help noticing that you had a...connection,' Jess said and this time there was definitely an evil smirk on her face. Slowly, it dawned on him what she meant when she was talking about their 'connection' and he almost sprayed his coffee over the table.
'You watched us kiss? Pervert,' he scolded, but this only caused her to smile more. Stupidly, he was smiling too. He could feel the stupid smile plastered on his face and the stupid happy feeling in his stomach and he hated it.
'Two hot guys making out; nothing wrong with that,' Jess said, defending her voyeurism and she licked her lips. Dean had always thought that Sam was the one with an unhealthy obsession with his love life, but he was starting to revise his opinion. Their meddling had to stop.
'You know, if I end up breaking his heart you're to blame,' he said and he realised he sounded angry. He was angry. The way he was feeling; that was not good. All happy. He had vowed never to see Castiel again and if it hadn't been for Sam and Jess handing out his address to every poor idiot who asked for it then he would have kept his promise. Jess glared at him as she put down her coffee. It hit the table just a little bit too hard and hot coffee sloshed over the rim and onto the table.
'Watch it, Dean,' Jess warned him. Her voice could take on a dangerous edge that was entirely unexpected. You would never think it when you looked at her, but sometimes the sweet girl just disappeared and a formidable opponent appeared in her place. Someone you didn't want to cross. Dean and Sam sometimes joked about the transformation, but secretly Dean thought it was scary and he was pretty sure Sam thought the same.
'What?'
'Bullshit is coming out of your mouth again. Oh wait, it's because you're talking out of your ass,' Jess said and she wiped down the table. Their eyes locked and she refused to let him go.
'And to think that I once thought you'd have a positive effect on Sam,' he joked, when he finally managed to wrestle his gaze free.
'Yes, I'm Lucifer,' she answered sardonically and smiled. Her mouth pursed into a thoughtful pout and she sighed as she regarded him. It was as if she didn't know what to make of him. Hell, he didn't know what to make of himself. He wanted and didn't want Castiel at the same time. It was like chick-central what with the contradictory feelings and the angst.
'I will...break him. Castiel, James; he is fragile, like glass and I will stomp on him. No, melt him down. There won't be anything left to glue together. He'll just be a little puddle on the floor, like the glass statue I'd painted for...' Dean stammered and he suddenly stopped, horrified. What was he saying? He was making absolutely no sense. Jess stared at him with this pitying look on her face that he despised. As she reached out to touch his arm, he pushed back his chair so hard that it almost clattered to the floor. He could only catch it just in time.
'Dean, don't let that ruin your life. One member of your family already has. That's quite enough. Survivor's guilt...' Jess began, but Dean cut her off by slamming the chair back in place and walking out.
(***)
His hands were shaking. He gripped the steering wheel of the Impala to keep them from shaking, but they still trembled. His grip was so tight that his knuckles whitened. It was mostly anger that he was feeling. Anger at himself for bringing it up. Anger at Jess for attempting to talk about it.
'Calm the fuck down,' he whispered at his reflection in the rear view mirror. Maybe seeing Bobby would help. Bobby was relaxed, unless something involved cars. He would yell at Dean for losing the key to the Impala again and that would distract Dean. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, but the shaking didn't stop. That terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there too.
If he was really lucky the drive over to Bobby would do it and he would be alright before he got there. The drive was a bitch. Bobby didn't live in South Dakota anymore; he had moved to California after he had remarried after his wife's death, but the drive was still rough. There were little scraggly roads and barely legible road signs. You expected chainsaw wielding rednecks to jump out of the bushes at every turn. Fortunately, Dean knew the way and he also knew that the people looked scarier than they were.
It had been quite some time since he had visited Bobby, though. The fireman gig took up most of his time. Dean counted and was a bit ashamed when he discovered he didn't have enough fingers to add up the months he hadn't been over to Bobby's. He hadn't even properly thanked Bobby for getting him the job in the first place. That must have taken quite some work too; to convince them to hire such a worthless moron like himself.
As expected, Bobby cursed him for having hotwired the Impala again. It was nice in a way. Jess could be pretty foulmouthed, but it was mostly adorable in a sisterly kind of way. Sam was a bit of a ninny; he was so straight laced that Dean almost expected him to say 'darn' instead of 'damn.' Bobby cursed like a sailor and Dean loved it. There was something protective, but not overprotective, about Bobby's behaviour towards him.
'I got the same speech from Jess,' Dean said, when Bobby had finished his profanity riddled rant. Dean felt a pang of guilt about storming out on her. It was not Jess' fault that he was absolutely incapable of talking about his issues. He would have to make it up to her later.
'Smart girl,' Bobby remarked and he glanced at Dean. Uneasily, Dean averted his gaze. The drive hadn't done much in the calming him down department; he still felt out of sorts. Trying to think of something to say so that he didn't get into a fight with Bobby too, he landed on the long overdue thank you.
'I never thanked you for getting me my job,' Dean said and Bobby stared at him.
'What?'
'You talked to some people and got me hired,' Dean expanded, but Bobby remained staring at him.
'No, I didn't,' Bobby said. Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief and Bobby indicated their surroundings, before adding, 'Dean, I own a salvage yard. What makes you think I would be able to do that?' They stood there, staring at each other, for quite some time. If not Bobby, then who? It couldn't be Sam and it couldn't be Jessica. Dean was pretty sure Bobby's wife Ellen didn't have anything to do with it either. Jo was out of the question too, because she still seemed to take it rather personally that Dean didn't swing her way. That left only one person; the least likely person of them all.
'But I thought he looked down on my job,' Dean said softly. Bobby slapped his shoulder in a jovial manner that didn't suit him.
'John is an enigma, but I'm sure he's proud of you, boy,' Bobby offered. Thrilled that Dean suffered some of the same problems, maybe, but certainly not proud, Dean thought, but he didn't contradict the other man. As for enigma; absent was a better word. For the better part of Dean's life John had been absent, even when he was there. Sam would probably choose another word starting with an a to describe their father and for once his brother would not be afraid of being called a potty mouth.
Together they worked on the Impala and undid Dean's breaking and entering. Dean could have easily fixed the car himself, but he liked touching base with Bobby. It was inspiring to see how Bobby had built a new life for himself with Ellen Harvelle after the death of his first wife. There was a lesson in there about moving on after someone you loved died, but while Dean got it in theory he never put it into practice.
(***)
It was late in the afternoon when Dean got home. He was still on edge, but looking forward to spending some time doing nothing, sitting on his couch, watching mindless entertainment. Stuff blowing up and guys kicking ass and taking numbers; that's what he wanted to see. That would take this tension away. He had just popped a pizza out of the freezer into the oven when someone knocked on the door. It was Castiel. Well, he thought, as he slipped his hand into the professor's trousers: sex might also do the trick.
As October passed, Dean discovered he needed to get rid of a lot of tension and Castiel was usually right there to help him with it. It was a clear violation of the rules; them having sex more than once. Luckily, it was only sex. They hardly talked, which didn't seem strange to Dean, because what did a fireman and a university professor have to discuss? Yet, the fact that it was all about sex was starting to bother Dean and it wasn't supposed to. He liked when it was only about sex.
Their current situation wasn't entirely Castiel's fault. Dean was usually the one initiating the sex and whenever Castiel tried to have a conversation Dean shot him down unceremoniously. It was driving him crazy. How could he want something when every time Castiel tried to give it to him he refused it? It was November when he decided to end it before he got in too deep. A little voice in the back of his head was screaming that it was too late for that, that he had long since passed that station, but he ignored it.
They were lying on Dean's bed. They always had sex in his apartment. Castiel had invited him over to his place, but Dean never took him up on his offers. Castiel also never spend the night at Dean's. Whenever they were on the verge of falling asleep, Dean hinted at some urgent appointment in the morning and Castiel didn't object; he left. So, their whole relationship was based on sex and that meant that it didn't matter if Dean broke it off. There was hardly anything to break off. Relationship was even too big a word. Still, Dean braced himself as he was about to end their fling or whatever it was.
'I'm going to sleep over tonight,' Castiel said, before Dean could speak. His fingers were caressing Dean's naked back, drawing ever expanding circles. First with his nails, then with his fingertips and now with his nails again. Dean was looking at Castiel through his eye lashes, his head almost buried in a pillow. One night wouldn't matter, he thought. It was still just sex, after all. Just one night. It might even be nice. To only have to roll over if he wanted to have sex. To have someone sleeping next to him. To have the other side of the bed be occupied and warm.
'And we're not going to have sex,' Castiel added. Dean turned around and Castiel simply started to stroke Dean's abdomen.
'What?' Dean asked, perplexed.
'Tonight I'm literally sleeping over and tomorrow we're going on a date,' Castiel continued, as if Dean hadn't spoken. Sometimes his fingertips barely brushed Dean's skin; they were like feathery kisses or butterfly wings. Then suddenly they would drag across Dean's skin, leaving first white and then red marks. The alternating soft and hard touches made Dean close his eyes and sigh.
'Ok,' he answered, dreamily. The fingers left his stomach and he was waiting for them to start somewhere else, but they didn't return to any part of his body. When Dean opened his eyes, he saw that Castiel had taken a book and his reading glasses out of his trench coat. That coat was like the bag of Mary fucking Poppins; Dean wouldn't be surprised if Castiel pulled a lamp out of it. When Castiel put on the glasses and opened the book, Dean sat up straight.
'You're joking right?'
'No. Completely serious,' Castiel said as he regarded Dean over the top of his glasses. After a short glance, he focused his attention on the book in his lap again. After a couple of seconds, he turned the page. Dean simply didn't know what to say. This was such a waste. They were both naked; it was almost illegal not to have sex.
'That's not fair,' he protested.
'How so?' Castiel asked, without looking up.
'You're trying to turn me on!' Dean claimed. He pointed at the really sexy glasses and Castiel's slender body on display before him. In response, Castiel put his glasses and the book on the nightstand. The professor reached out for the sheets and pulled them up over Dean and himself.
'A relationship is one long conversation, interspersed with sex. One of those I know we're good at. Now, you don't want to talk; that's fine, but we're not having sex either,' Castiel explained and Dean wanted to push him out of the bed and out of his life. He wanted to yell that they didn't have a relationship and that he didn't want one. He wanted to say that if he never saw Castiel again that he wouldn't care one bit. Maybe he even wanted to hurt him for making him a liar if he'd said or done any of those things.
Instead he turned his back on Castiel and announced he was going to sleep. Immediately, Castiel switched off the lamp on the nightstand and they were bathed in darkness. One warm arm was slung over Dean's shoulder and a chest pressed against his back. Without saying a word, Dean took the hand and cradled it in his own hands. He had imagined this moment and had thought the sound of someone else breathing would be annoying, but it was comforting. As he started to drift off, he realised with a slight pang of panic that he felt loved.