Chapter 6: Peace of mind

The next evening, like Castiel had ordained it, they went out on a date. Dean was feeling a little bit uncomfortable since he couldn't even remember the last time he had gone out on a date. His clothes were not suitable for these sorts of occasions. Finally, he settled on a reasonably clean jacket and a recently bought pair of jeans. Castiel came to pick him up. The trench coat was gone. He had on dark jeans and a dark blue sweater that brought out the blue of his eyes. Dean thought he looked hot. If it hadn't been against the new rules, he would have pulled him into the apartment and taken him up against the door. But no; they were not having sex.

'You look very handsome,' Castiel said and Dean was embarrassed to discover that he was actually blushing after receiving the compliment.

'Thank you. You too,' he mumbled, as he locked up his apartment behind him. They drove to the restaurant in Castiel's car, which Dean realised he hadn't seen before. It was one of those environmentally friendly, but boring cars. A silver Lexus. There was nothing macho or aesthetically pleasing about the car, so it was almost the opposite of the Impala. To make things even worse, the radio was tuned into an easy listening station. It was the sort of thing that Dean imagined Sam would enjoy listening to. Sam.Nonetheless, Dean realised it didn't matter.

It didn't change the way he felt about Castiel at all. Castiel parked in front of the Palo Alto Creamery Fountain and Grill and suddenly Dean felt overdressed. As they stepped out of the car, Dean felt a familiar anger rising in him. It was one thing that Dean was aware of the enormous difference between himself and Castiel, but it was quite another to have Castiel rub his nose in it. He paused in front of the door and Castiel bumped into him.

'Didn't think someone like me would feel comfortable in a real restaurant, huh?' Dean said and the scorn in his voice was unmistakable. The other man blinked rapidly and looked confused.

'Someone like you?' he asked. Dean crossed him arms and didn't answer. Yeah, like me, he thought. A fireman, someone who didn't even finish secondary school. Look at the professor slumming it with the blue collar worker. It felt like charity. Still confounded, Castiel scratched his neck.

'I don't like fancy restaurants. You pay exorbitant amounts of money to have people watch you eat. If you put down your fork in the wrong place everyone frowns at you for the remainder of the evening. It makes me uncomfortable,' Castiel explained. Ridiculous, Dean thought; I'm behaving ridiculous. Ashamed, he held the door open for Castiel and they went in.

'For someone who gets paid to speak in front of entire classes, you're really awfully shy,' Dean joked as they sat down. Dean surveyed the diner. The place was filled with students and families with small kids eating. Why was he even complaining? It wasn't as if he was a fan of haute cuisine; he was much more of a burgers and fries guy. And, despite everything Dean thought about himself, he knew Castiel didn't think that going out with Dean was settling.

'There are not a lot of people in my courses. Fifteen at the most,' Castiel answered, self deprecating and then he flashed a bright smile at Dean, 'And I love the BBQ bacon cheeseburgers they have here.'

They ordered two BBQ bacon cheeseburgers each and two chocolate milkshakes. The service was quick and friendly and Dean had to confess he did feel comfortable. Here, he wasn't out of place and surprisingly, Castiel wasn't either. He made fun of Castiel's music taste and Castiel mocked him right back for listening to Led Zeppelin.

'You're like the poster boy for male heterosexuality with the muscle car and the fixation on hard rock.'

'Except I sleep with men.'

'Yes, there's that,' Castiel grinned and sucked on his milkshake straw. That was strangely arousing and Dean had to look away. There are kids around, he admonished himself. The diner was hardly the place for a quickie in the bathroom. Also, he kept forgetting they were not having sex. However, they were talking now. This was a conversation, so now the sex was back on, right?

He was feeling pretty good, despite the fact that it was November. November was not a good month and neither was December. It made him think of that first Christmas without her that they didn't celebrate and of the little glass statue he had painted in kindergarten and hidden in the closet until her birthday. It made him think of holding Sam and screaming. Think about something else.

'So metaphysics, I have no idea what the hell that is,' he admitted as he started on the second burger.

'It's hard to explain. It is concerned with being and existence and time and space and free will. Many call it a pseudoscience,' Castiel said and he slurped up the last drops left of his milkshake. Chewing frantically, Dean shoved the food to the left of his mouth with his tongue, so he could speak without showering the table with bits of burger.

'Pseudo?'

'Not really science, pretending to be scientific. It's because we don't provide a lot of answers, we're mostly there to ask questions. And the questions are not even concerned with tangible concepts; it's all about the abstract,' Castiel explained and Dean swallowed his bite.

'That sounds...interesting, but vague,' he finally said and Castiel laughed. They looked at each other across the table and Castiel briefly stroked Dean's hand.

'The best things in life usually are,' he remarked and he smiled at Dean before biting such a huge chunk out of his burger that sauce dripped down his chin. Shaking his head in mock disapproval, Dean got up to get some paper napkins and handed them to him.

'I like that. Asking questions is important, I think,' Dean said and he took a modest bite to show Castiel how it was done. It was nice to not be the sloppiest eater at the table for once. Dean could see now why Sam enjoyed the little victory of educating others with your superior eating skills. Not that Dean didn't enjoy the other side too. He loved to taunt Sam and always took full advantage of their dinners to do just that. Suddenly, Dean felt he was forgetting something important.

'I agree,' Castiel said after he had managed to swallow most of the burger and wiped the sauce away.

'You would. Otherwise you're out of a job,' Dean accused and Castiel laughed again. Sometimes the answers hardly seem to matter, Dean thought. Like how Dean wanted to know more about Castiel, but the information he gained was almost immaterial. It was just about being prepared to ask the questions and getting to know each other better. They ate the rest of their meal in silence until the time came to order desserts.

'What have you got?' Dean asked the waiter.

'We've got all sorts of pie, ice cream...' the waiter started, but Dean interrupted him.

'You had me at pie,' he said and he ordered apple pie for the both of them. With his eyebrows raised, Castiel looked at him and asked him what he was doing ordering for him. Dean simply answered that since Castiel had decided they were not going to have sex, Dean was now deciding that they were going to eat pie. The professor leaned forward, until his lips were almost touching Dean's ear and Dean felt a delicious shiver run down his spine.

'We might be able to work something out. At my apartment,' he whispered and leaned back with a satisfied smile on his face. Castiel's apartment, Dean's apartment, a dumpster, right there on the table; Dean would have said yes to all of those. They both finished their pie in record time and outside of the restaurant in plain view of everyone Dean shoved Castiel against the car and kissed him hard. Public displays of affection were not Dean's forte, but he couldn't help himself.

'Professor Novak?' someone asked and the voice sounded eerily familiar. Dean stepped away from Castiel and Castiel made a gesture as if he was going to adjust his tie. The move amused Dean to no end, because Castiel wasn't wearing a tie.

'Ah Richard, how do you do?' Castiel said in a hilariously composed voice, like they hadn't just been dry humping each other. His face assumed a bland expression as he faced Richard the douche bag. Richard looked from Castiel to Dean and back again and mumbled that he was fine.

'Don't worry about your essay; I've looked at it and it's a pass,' Castiel remarked and then he opened the door and got in the driver's side of the vehicle. Dean had a huge smirk on his face as he rounded the car and got in on the other side. As they drove way, Dean waved at the still stunned looking Richard, but something was nagging at the back of his mind. Richard, Sam, dinner. Fuck, it was Friday!

'Cas, we've gotta go to Sam. It's Friday. I always have dinner with Sam and Jess on Friday. I completely forgot,' Dean stammered.

'I'll drop you off,' Castiel said and Dean looked at him. This beautiful man next to him, who didn't take no for an answer and actually wanted to be part of Dean's life. It was time Dean started to let him in.

'You can come, if you want to. I mean, we obviously won't eat much, but it'll be fun,' Dean suggested and Castiel smiled at him. Dean smiled too. The whole way over to Sam's they did nothing except smile at each other like a couple of idiots. Or just a couple.

(***)

It took another week before Dean got to see Castiel's apartment. It was a mess. Books were everywhere: in neat stacks, in impossibly high and wobbly stacks, wedged between the fridge and the counter, strewn across the coffee table, taking possession of a lazy chair like a large, disobedient dog.

'But you're so tidy!' Dean exclaimed. It was true. The only thing that was ever out of place with Castiel was his unruly hair. Other than that he was always draping his clothes over chairs or folding them. His appearance was meticulously crafted. His Lexus smelled and looked as if it had just come from the car factory. He was forever straightening the painting above Dean's bed; the one Jess had given him. Thus, this was quite a surprise.

'It's like an episode of Hoarders,' Dean mumbled and Castiel chuckled. Most of the spines had titles like A Brief History of Time and Magic, Witchcraft and Religion: An Anthropological Study of the Supernatural, but Dean could detect a stack of Harry Potter novels too and a lone Twilight copy.

'Research,' Castiel muttered embarrassed and he shoved the copy of Twilight underneath some magazines, but Dean noticed he didn't try to hide Harry. The bedroom wasn't much better. Books were balanced against the walls and there was no room on either of the nightstands for an alarm clock or a lamp or anything really, because books were already almost falling off.

'At least the bed is free,' Dean said and he pulled Castiel into a kiss. Dean discovered that he liked being in a relationship. He liked going out to eat with Castiel, he liked having Friday night dinners at Jess and Sam with his boyfriend, he liked talking until deep in the night. Who'd have thought? It was just hard to understand why Castiel had chosen him to share those things with.

(***)

One morning in early December.

They rolled away from each other, still panting. Dean was yearning for a cigarette, so he took some of his gum out of the drawer in Castiel's nightstand and popped it into his mouth. There was even a tiny alarm clock now. They split their time between their apartments and Dean had managed to convince Castiel that some people didn't automatically wake up at seven a.m. and that if he wanted Dean to sleep over, he needed to clear some room on the nightstand and invest in an alarm clock. It was a little after eight and Dean needed to get ready for work, but he didn't feel like it. He just wanted to lie in bed a little longer.

Suddenly, Castiel leaned over and kissed him feverishly. It was like the prelude to another round and as much as Dean wanted to; they really didn't have time for that. Instead of making any attempt at that, however, Castiel dropped back onto his pillow and chewed slowly. Dean must have had a clear expression on his face that indicated how he was feeling, which was; what the hell?

'I wanted your gum,' Castiel casually said and he chewed some more. Dean burst out laughing as he realised his gum was indeed gone, but then he narrowed his eyes at the other man. He could feel himself turning serious and gearing up to ask a question that he had wanted to ask for some time, but hadn't dared to ask.

'What are you doing with me?' Dean asked. He got out of bed and started to get dressed. Castiel flopped over onto his stomach and looked at him, while he pulled up his boxers.

'What do you mean?'

'You're handsome and intelligent and nice and funny. Half the time I have no idea what the hell you're talking about,' Dean said. Deftly, he fished his trousers out of a pile of books without upsetting the organised disorder and put them on too. Castiel was still watching with interest, though his forehead had wrinkled as he chewed thoughtfully.

'I don't know what you're talking about right now,' Castiel admitted, as he leaned over the side of the bed to scoop up Dean's cable knit sweater and threw it to Dean.

'You're wonderful and brilliant and I'm just a dumb jock,' Dean clarified as he struggled to put on his sweater. He was almost relieved when his head got stuck, because now he didn't have to see the look on Castiel's face when the other man heard what he said. However, when he finally got his head through the hole it was intended for Castiel was standing right in front of him, still gloriously naked.

'Dean, you are the one who's amazing. This reverence you have for my perceived intelligence and my profession is completely unfounded. I'm not brilliant; I just know a lot about a completely irrelevant and murky field of studies. If I stopped teaching tomorrow a few of my students would be disappointed. Your job is important. I dare say you have saved quite a few lives. It is dangerous and hard. When I look at you what I see is as far removed from a dumb jock as it could be. I see a hero.'

The earnest look on Castiel's face was killing Dean. The professor admired the fireman and not just his abs either. It was like bizarro world, Dean thought. He wanted to say something to deflect the praise.

'It's not as noble as you think. Someone I love died in a fire,' Dean objected and he was shocked at his own words. Never before had he brought that up with anyone but Jess or Sam. He didn't even talk about it with Bobby. And with Jess and Sam, he strenuously tried to avoid the topic. Castiel moved his fingers smoothly down Dean's sweater clad shoulder. The touch was oddly comforting.

'Nope, still a hero,' Castiel said and he smiled that special smile of his. The smile that Dean felt was reserved only for him. It made his stomach perform back flips and somersaults.

'I think you've got 9/11 syndrome,' Dean joked, but the joke fell flat. The alarm went off, but they both ignored it. Castiel took Dean into his arms and kissed him. The gum was returned to its rightful owner.

'I think I love you. No, that's not true. I know I love you,' Castiel stated and all Dean could think of to say, after he had briefly considered 'thank you,' was that he had to go. On his way to work he cursed himself for his inadequate response. He played some Metallica, but it didn't manage to calm him down. It started out as a quiet day at the station. One lady's cat got stuck in the sewer and Dean managed to get it out. The rest of the day they watched TV and goofed around until five p.m. when they were called out to a residential fire.

As they approached the scene Dean could see there was little left to do but make sure the fire didn't spread to surrounding houses. In the crowd near the building, two boys around the age of ten were standing, unsupervised and Dean felt his heart muscles contract violently. He went up to them and asked if there was someone still inside. The slightly taller boy was holding a rabbit that was frantically trying to escape. The boy's arms were bloody with scratches, but he didn't seem to notice. They were both intently staring at the house.

Behind Dean, the other firemen broke the windows of some jerk's car, who had parked it in front of a fire hydrant and rolled out the hose. The crowd was told to stay back, but only a few people listened.

'Is there someone still in the house?' Dean asked again. The smaller boy glanced at him.

'Mom, but she is coming out again soon,' he said and returned to staring at the front door.

'How long ago?'

Reverting to the behaviour of a much younger kid, the boy held up two hands. Ten fingers. Fuck, ten minutes, Dean thought. He also thought, out again?

'She is getting Pip; she told us to wait,' the boy said.

'Pip?' Dean breathed and he looked at the house. It was an old house, which meant it was mostly constructed of wood. Wooden beams, wooden panels, wooden floors. Everything burned brightly in the early evening light. If their mother was in there he didn't think she was coming out and neither was Pip. The taller boy now became aware of Dean's presence and raised the rabbit in his arms.

'This is Gladys,' the boy said, as if that answered Dean's question and it kind of did. Gladys and the Pips; Gladys and Pip, so Pip was probably another rabbit. Who the hell would go back into a burning house for a rabbit? People didn't understand fire; that was the problem. It devoured everything in its way and it was so fucking unbelievably fast. For some reason people never really thought that fire spread that quickly and that they might die in one. In the rare circumstances that the thought of dying occurred to them it was written off as ridiculous, because it was beyond their grasp. They didn't understand it: thus, it was impossible.

'Will someone fucking take care of these kids?' he screamed at the gathered neighbours and someone came up and took them away from the fire. As he went up to the fire chief, he fastened his helmet. Williams, Dean's partner, was standing nearby. Now that he was no longer straining to listen to the boys, the roar of the fire suddenly sounded very loud. It raged like a storm.

'Their mother is in there,' Dean yelled at the chief. It was hard to drown out the combined noises of the fire, the jets of water cascading down the side of the building and the wailing of the sirens. Williams came closer.

'You wanna go in? Williams? Winchester?' the chief asked. The three of them looked at the house. It had started to sway like one of Castiel's wobbly stacks of books. It was useless. Utterly useless. Going in would be suicide. Williams shook his head. The chief looked at Dean. If they were going in it would have to be the two of them and Williams was clearly not keen on the idea.

'She went in ten minutes ago,' Dean said. He knew what that meant. They all did. It wasn't even the fire, or rather; he hoped it hadn't been the fire that got her. It was most likely the lack of oxygen or carbon monoxide poisoning that got her. She was dead. And Pip too, unless he had managed to escape.

'It's too dangerous,' the chief decided, but still he looked at Dean. Dean nodded, to indicate that he understood and that he wasn't going to do anything stupid. Right on cue, the roof caved in. There was no human sound from inside, which was supposed to be good. In a fire, the rule was that you didn't want to die at the hand of the flames. Choking was actually the better death and Dean agreed, but the silence always got to him. Like the silence of the lambs. If they were screaming they were still alive; if they were silent it was all over.

Williams and Dean joined their colleagues at the hoses. They couldn't get close to the house, because the fire was blazing too hot. After half an hour the house fell apart under the pressure of the water beating down on it. There would be an inquiry, Dean knew, about the cause of the fire. Maybe there would also be an autopsy on what was left of her to determine how she had died. It would be right up John's alley. As they drove away, he could see the kids behind one of the windows of a house across the street. They were still watching.

On the way back to the station, Dean kept thinking about those two boys, waiting for their mother to come out and she never did. If he went home Dean knew Castiel would see that something was wrong and want to talk about it, but he didn't want to. He wouldn't be able to sleep at night. He wanted to slip into oblivion and the only way he knew how was to drink. To drink a lot. So, he left the Impala at the station and walked to the nearest bar. Here's to forgetting, he thought, as he drained his first scotch of many.