Chapter 23:Sam Is Tired Of Your Shit
John stepped out of his room the next morning, determined that by the end of the day, his son would talk to him. He walked into the kitchen and found Sam eating a bowl of cereal and reading from ancient, dusty book. Papers spread all over the table as he made notes, translating the text he was reading.
"Morning." Sam said, looking up from his book for a moment to acknowledge him.
"Morning." John returned, grabbing a bowl and filling it with cereal before grabbing the milk from the refrigerator. "Dean up yet?" He asked, pouring a bit into the bowl and taking it into the table.
"No." Sam answered simply. "But he probably stayed up late last night. So odds are, he's sleeping in."
"What was he doing?" John asked, remembering that Dean had been watching a movie last night, then turned in before it was even over.
"Uh..." Sam hedged, looking back down to his book. "Just reading I think. He's been helping Castiel with a few things. Taking calls for other hunters, since he can't be out there right now, and doing research."
"That for another hunter?" John asked, looking at the notes and books scattered around Sam on the table.
"Yeah." Sam said, taking another bite while jotting down another few notes. "Garth needs this information as soon as possible. I would ask Castiel, he reads this stuff so much easier then I do. Of course he's fluent in practically anything, so he could probably get through this quicker."
"Then wake him up?" John suggested, taking a few bites of cereal. Surprised at the new information about Castiel. Fluent in everything, that would be quite a feet to accomplish.
"No, no. He's hasn't been sleeping well, and I think he's getting sick." Sam argued, double checking a few of his notes. "He's not gonna say anything, but I can see it. So can Dean."
"I haven't noticed anything." John said, thinking about all the times he's seen Castiel over the past few days. He hadn't seen anything to suggest any kind of illness. He could believe the not sleeping well. The guy barely slept while they where on that hunt, but John had assumed that it was because he was worried about what they where hunting. Not to mention all those mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night.
"Well you've been avoiding him the past week." Sam said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture when John opened his mouth to argue. "And he's been avoiding you too, I know. Though honestly I just think he's afraid of causing an argument. He blames himself for the last one, doesn't want to cause any problems."
"He could have avoided that by not trying to saw off his damn cast, and just listen to me when I told him to stop." John mumbled, tucking back into his bowl. Extracting a sigh from Sam.
"And you could have by simply taking the saw and walking out of the room." He countered, giving John a pointed look. Then sighing again, and moving his notes aside. "Look, I know you thought you where helping. Threatening him to not hurt himself though dose seem a bit counter productive don't you think?"
"He wouldn't listen to reason?" John tried to defend himself. He really wasn't liking being told he was the one in the wrong, constantly. It was just a gun, why wouldn't anyone let this go.
"And a gun is not the best way to handle that." Sam offered calmly. "Especially not with Castiel. If you leave room for argument, he's going to find one, and then he'll win. He's smart enough to do that. Grabbing the saw, and walking away before he can get it back is a good way to avoid it. He's not stupid enough to use an electric saw."
"I figured that much." John argued, sitting straighter to give himself something to do. "But he refused to listen to a word I was saying." He tried to argue his actions again.
"That's because it was an order, and he doesn't respond well to that. Especially if he doesn't see you as his superior." Sam said, continuing when John gave him disgruntled look. "I know your older, and your used to people listening to you. But you gotta remember. Castiel was a soldier to, and he got into a lot of bad stuff. He left because of it actually. Now the only person he really listens to is Dean, because he's really the only person he trust." Sam explained.
"I still don't understand why I'm the one to get yelled at." John mumbled, feeling more and more like a child as the conversation drew on.
"You weren't." Was Sam's reply. John looking up at him in disbelief, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, the yelling part, maybe. But that's cause you yelled to. Dean did get on to him, but they acted like adults. They had a calm, rational conversation. They talked to each other respectfully, and then reached a compromise." He explained, looking pointedly at his father again. "Dean started yelling, and Castiel sat there and took it for a moment. Now, I don't know what Castiel's reasoning to Dean was for what he did. But he accepted it, and helped him to take off the cast. Then Castiel agreed to take it easy for the next week or two. Which he did. But they kept themselves civil, and didn't let it escalate. Which is the reason why they're getting along easier then you and Dean are."
John thought about that for a few moments. He'd assumed that he's been the only one to get told off. That Dean had just placed all blame on him, but apparently, Castiel had received a least a bit of the same treatment. John wondered if he'd handled Dean yelling at him differently, would it had worked out the same way. Probably not, they might actually have been able to talk it out a bit more. Or at least come to some form of agreement.
John had decided last night that he would have to be the one to apologize first. Sure, he might have to take a bit of lip from his oldest, and probably be told to apologize to Castiel as well, but he was sick of the fighting. He could understand now why he was the one being avoided at least.
He'd originally thought that Castiel was showing off, that he and Dean where getting along great, and he'd won. Though for the life of him, John couldn't explain why he thought it was a competition. But apparently, the guy was just more mature, or patient, or whatever you want to call it. He's taken his beating, and then explained himself calmly. Though John would sure love to know exactly what excuse he'd given Dean to make him help getting the cast off.
John stood up and walked his bowl to the sink. He rinsed it off before heading in the direction Dean's room was in.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked from behind him.
"To wake Dean up so I can talk to him." He shot back, barely turning his head and not stopping his pace. He heard a chair pull back and Sam was suddenly in front of him, placing a hand on his chest to stall him.
"Why don't you wait just a moment." Sam cautioned, voice calm and comanding. Looking slightly panicy. "Let me go in there first, and warm him up. If you just walk in there without so much as a warning, you might find yourself at the wrong side of a barrel." He said before running down the hall to Dean's room.
John didn't know what to make of that. It's not like he hadn't walked in unannounced before. But he supposed Dean was in a bad mood, and may very well do it just to teach him a lesson. Though he couldn't picture Dean doing that. He walked further down the hall, hearing indistinguishable voices in Dean's room, some scuffling, and the sound of a door closing. He walked over to the door. Opening it and walking in.
Dean was woken up by the bang of his door suddenly opening. He was quick to grab his gun and turn just in time to see Sam grabbing Castiel by the arm and dragging him out of bed. Bewildered, he watched as Sam groaned, closed his eyes as he walked Castiel to the closet and practically threw him in. Closing the door while mumbling about not being able to keep this up for long, and getting tired to covering for them.
"Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean asked, stunned by his brother's behavior.
"Dad's on his way in here." Sam said, shoving Castiel back into the closet and holding the door closed. "I don't think you want him walking in while you two are in bed." He hissed, mostly to the door to encourage Castiel to stay in there and not make a sound.
"What?" Dean asked, still kind of confused. "Why would Dad come in here?" He asked, in his mind an understandable question. But Sam let out an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Why else to you think he would come in here? To talk." Sam said just as the door opened. Dean looking over and the intrusion, and quickly putting the covers back over him. Hoping he could pass off the I sleep in my underwear thing, and that his father doesn't try to get him up or go into his closet. The closet that Sam was currently leaning against.
John seemed to noticed none of this as he walked in and stared at Dean for a moment.
"Dean, we need to talk, and we need to do so now." John stated, his voice holding all the authoritative tone he'd had when they where children. Dean sighed and leaned back into his bed, very aware that his father had made his mind up about something, and therefore, it would be hard to change his mind. But he had to try anyway.
"This couldn't have waited until after I had woken up and gotten dressed." Dean asked, covering his face with his hands.
"No." John said, sitting down in the chair at the desk and turning to him. "If not now, then never." He said, leaning down to look at his son.
"Okay." Dean said, pulling his blankets up a bit further over his chest. "What?"
"I want to apologize." John started slowly, looking down at the ground. Dean had to admit he was caught a bit by surprise. In all his life, he'd never once heard his father apologize to anyone. Even his own children.
"Really?" Dean asked, looking at his father disbelievingly. It was still early, he could be hearing things, or dreaming.
"Yes, now just shut up and let me talk, alright." John nearly barked out, but seemed to catch himself at the end. Dean waved his hands in a continue on gesture, and wondering just what could come out of this.
"I may have over reacted the other day." John admitted, Dean noticing that it seemed to cause him an enormous amount of pain. Considering the face he was pulling. "Threatening to shoot somebody in order to stop them from hurting themselves may have been a bad idea."
Dean nearly snorted, but kept himself in check. This was quite the entertainment if he said so himself. He wondered if his apologies looked like this from the outside to. It would explain why people wanted to see them more. But he had to give the guy credit for trying.
"And, I'm sorry I yelled at you, when you where just trying to stop a fight from getting worse." John continued, seeming to not be able to stop now that the ball had gotten rolling. "I'm sorry for forgetting that you're your own person, and that doesn't mean you'd act like me. That I ignored gun safety and put your friend at risk. That I haven't really been the most friendly person towards him." He seemed to keep going, Dean almost felt sorry for the guy.
"Dad." Dean cut him off, looking over to his brother who was also staring in shock. John looked up at him, seemingly wanting to say something about him interrupting, but thought better of it. "You can stop. I get it. It's cool." Dean accepted the apology. "So long as you don't do it again. After all, your the one who taught me that the only thing you point a gun at is monsters." He finished, watching his father's face.
"So..We good?" John asked, seemingly thankful that he could stop. Obviously uncomfortable with the very act of admitting blame. "So." He started akwardly, clearing his throat. "See you later." He asked hopefully.
"Yeah, I'll be out later." Dean told him, leaning back into the bed. He watched as his father walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He listened closely as John's footsteps got further and further away. He then turned to Sam with a pointed look.
Sam sighed and took a step away from the door. Letting the door open so a now dressed Castiel could step out, carrying a pair of jeans and a shirt for Dean. Causing Sam to roll his eyes and glare at the two of them. He pointed an accusatory finger at Dean.
"I never want to have to do that again." Sam warned, looking at the both of them. "Dean, you already know that that was a part of you I never wanted to see. I definitely never wanted to see that side of Castiel. The next time Dad decides to just come in here. I'm not stopping him." He said, walking out of the room so that Dean could get dressed. Dean wincing slightly when the door slammed.
Dean bit back a laugh at his brother's embarrassment. He sat up in bed, taking the clothes Castiel handed him as he threw the blankets off himself. He began getting dressed, noticing Castiel watching him with an approving look on his face. He smiled, getting a look at Castiel as well, who'd taken his time in the closet to dress in a pair of his jeans, and one of his button down shirts.
"Sam seemed upset." Castiel observed, watching Dean get dressed. Dean for his part, not really minding the attention. In fact, he dressed slower then he usually would have, making a point to wiggle his hips as he pulled his pants up.
"Nah, he's just a spoiled sport. A normal person would be thrilled at the opportunity to see your fine ass, and drag it out of bed." Dean stated, getting up and walking over to Castiel. Kissing his lips swiftly, putting his hands on his hips. "I think he's just jealous." He said, leaning his forehead against Castiel's and running his hands up his back. Feeling Castiel's arms wrap around his neck.
"He would not have needed to do so, if we weren't hiding this from your father." Castiel reasoned, looking him straight in the eye. Telling him silently what he thought.
"I know." Dean groaned, tightening his hold on his partner. "I need to tell him, but I keep waiting for the right time, and it never comes."
"It will eventually." Castiel comforted, pecking him on the side of the mouth. "But it won't stay hidden for much longer. I'm assuming your father came in here to apologize?"
"Yeah, so he's probably going to start letting himself in here again during the night." Dean sighed. He really liked it when Castiel came in to sleep with him, and he really didn't want to stop it now that they had actually had sex. It made the whole experience that much better.
He will tell his father eventually. But after just getting over that fight was not the right time. Today was just not that day.
John worked in the garage in silence. The tension that had been building up in him since the fight with Dean seemed to have lessened a bit. Which was a huge improvement over the past few days. He looked around the room, taking in the damage that had been done the past week. He'd hid himself in here for days, but no actual work had been done. He had more or rather used the tools to unleash his frustration with the whole issue.
There where several holes in the walls, from where he had banged his fist against them, or taken a crowbar to them. The tools where scattered around floor and any flat surface, as he'd taken to throwing the tool boxes in frustration. Plaster and trash scattered over everything, in his vain attempts to clean up and then just giving up. Throwing the bags, or kicking up the dust.
He sighed, this mess was his and no one else's. He picked up the broom and started to clean up. He swept what he could, stopping every few moments to pick up a stray hammer, or screwdriver. Seeing the dents in the body work of the cars where they had hit before falling to the ground. He'd have to pull those out, and repaint the exterior.
He was just finishing up when Dean came in, looked at the walls, and then went to work as if nothing had happened. He bent over the hood of an old Chevy, and began working without a word. John watching him, and waiting for him to say something about the mess. But nothing came, so John went back to finishing up.
When he'd thrown away the trash, and put the tools away. He pulled out the plunger, and started taking out the dents in the cars. He worked steadily for several hours, sharing the silence with Dean. Glad that this wasn't awkward, or strained. Just an easy silence of two people working. It was several hours before one of them spoke.
"So." Dean started, arms working as he loosened a bolt. "It's been a busy couple of days in here."
"You could say that." John said, taking stock of the holes in the walls again. "We're going to have to get some plaster in town. As well as some paint for these cars." He said, running his hand over the scratch in the paint after he had gotten the ding out of the door.
"Yeah." Dean said, looking to the walls a brief second before shrugging it off. "I thought you where in here burying yourself in work."
"I tried, but I couldn't." John admitted, taking a deep breath. "I kept wondering why you seemed so much more angry with me then your friend."
"It was more the fact you chased me down, where he waited for me to find him." Dean admitted, head buried in the hood. "I probably wouldn't have been so bad if I'd had a chance to cool off first." He stated, not bothering to look up. John wanting to believe him, but Sam's words where still ringing in his head.
"Dean, I have to ask you..." John started, pushing to get the words out. "Are you and Cas...?" He tried to ask, but he just couldn't get the words out.
"Are me and Cas what?" Dean asked, raising his head quickly.
"Nothing." John covered quickly. "It's nothing, just something Sam said a while ago. Probably stupid." He waved it off, getting back to work. He noticed his son watching him with a closed off expression, before getting back to work in silence.
Over the next few days, Dean was getting very creative with how he spent time alone with Castiel. They could talk out in the open, but still not as freely as they wanted. At least not while John was around. They watched movies, and joked around. They read together, and Dean taught the Angel how to cook something other then a sandwich.
But as the days progressed, John had become more and more comfortable with Dean again. Seeing no problems with letting himself into Dean's room whenever he wanted. As well as the nightly checks, that where driving Dean crazy. It made him have to find alternative ways to spend what he called, happy time, with Castiel.
It was becoming more common for Dean to pull Castiel into whatever storage room he could. Slamming Castiel against the wall or door, and attacking his mouth with all the vigor of pent up frustration he had. Falling to his knees to take Castiel into his mouth while palming himself, or vice versa. Or grinding against him on a table or shelf.
He would do this at least three times a day, the spontaneity and secrecy of it a huge turn on for him. He thought he was too old to find sneaking around exciting, but he guessed he was wrong. Noticing that as his cravings for killing lessened, and the mark faded more and more, his cravings for Castiel grew. The Angel crossing his mind several times a day, becoming an obsession until he could corner him in one of the rooms, a closet, or bathroom, and in one bizarre instance a sarcophagus.
He did however miss being able to do so in a bed. Missed sleeping next to the Angel, watching him as he slept. Something Dean noticed he was doing more and more of. At first Castiel had started, just to pass as being human. But as time went on, and he'd slept with Castiel next to him, he noticed it with more regularity. Until Castiel had started falling asleep in random places. Such as the library, bent over a pile of books. Watching a movie in the living room, curled up in the chair he occupied when they weren't alone. Or where Dean was watching him now, sprawled out on the couch, book lying open on his chest as if he'd been reading.
He would be worried, if it wasn't so damn cute. His hair was ruffled to the side, and his shirt was tucked out at odd places. One arm wrapped around his chest, keeping the book in place. The other arm hanging off the side of the couch. His head turned in the same direction, lips parted as he breathed.
Dean smiled to himself, taking in the picture before him. He looked around the room for anyone coming in, and listening for the same thing. Hearing no one, he bent down, gently prying the book from Castiel's hands before pressing his lips to the other's. Castiel's eyes fluttered open at the contact as he returned the kiss.
"What was that for?" Castiel asked as Dean pulled away. Looking into his partners eyes and dropping down to his knees to sit with him.
"You looked sexy, laying there with your book and your hair. I just had to have a taste." Dean joked, running his hands through Castiel's hair. He looked around the room again before laying his head on Castiel's chest. Listening to his heart beat for a few moments before admitting. "I miss you."
"I'm right here Dean." Castiel said, head tilting to the side in bewilderment.
"I mean, I miss sleeping next to you. Watching you sleep." Dean explained. "Your face totally relaxed. Not thinking about anything, or worrying. It's calming."
"I miss it to." Castiel agreed, cupping his hand over Dean's jaw.
Dean leaned into the touch, kissing his hand. He leaned forward to placing another kiss to Castiel's lips. Deepening it when Castiel accepted it. Pulling himself up, so that he was practically lying on top of Castiel. Disappointment racing through him when Castiel pulled away, and pushed a hand to his chest to get him to do the same.
"Not here." Castiel stated, his breath coming in pants. Dean apparently not the only one who had missed it. "Anybody could walk in." He reminded him, sitting up more as Dean moved back down.
"Then when?" Dean practically groaned, leaning his head against Castiel's shoulder. Castiel grabbed his face, pulling it to face him before speaking.
"Tonight." Castiel started, pecking Dean on the forehead before continuing. "Use some blankets to make it look like your still in bed. Then meet me at the Impala." He whispered, Dean inhaling at the idea.
"Oh, talk dirty to me Cas." Dean moaned, leaning forward to kiss Castiel again, but finding his movements stopped by Castiel's hands still holding him.
"You bring the keys. I'll bring the lube." Castiel started, with a mischievous smile. "I would love to bend you over the hood of the car. Spread out for me, trying to hold in your moans so that we wouldn't be heard." He began, speaking slowly as Dean practically whimpered at the thought of it. How he wanted that. "Or I could take you in the back seat." He growled, kissing Dean briefly but fiercely. "I could make you scream as I pounded you into the leather. I'll make you plead for mercy as I play your body like a fiddle." He continued, Dean wanting to go there right now.
"Yes, Cas." Dean cried, curling his hands in Castiel's shirt. "Yes, anything." He pleaded, wanting that. Needing Castiel there, the very idea of Castiel inside him making him hard.
"Guys." They heard form behind the wall, as Sam walked in with a disgusted and freaked out look on his face. "TMI." He said, before practically running away as they both shared sheepish grins.
There you have another chapter. Next up, John runs across something he shouldn't have. Wonder what it is? You'll have to wait till next week to find out.
As always, hope you have a great day, and hope you enjoyed. Let me know.
Ta Ta For Now