Chapter 20: Galapagos

The last week has passed in relative ease. After talking to Dean, a large weight seems to have been lifted from everyone's shoulders, including Sam. Castiel is sitting in the living area, absently watching as Dean cleans and takes apart their guns. He had told Castiel to watch and learn, but after the first two guns, Castiel grew bored.

He turns his attention to Sam, who is texting on his phone in between writing a paper for his class. Castiel grins at Sam, not needing to ask who he keeps texting with. His own black notebook is open on the table in front of him, but for once, Castiel doesn't have much to write. He flips through the pages, stopping briefly to look at a few drawings he had done of Dean…not that Dean would ever find out.

Dean catches Castiel's eye and winks, before saying suggestively, "You shouldn't chew on your pen Cas, it's gonna explode all over you".

Castiel opens his eyes in surprise, flicking his eyes between Sam and back to Dean, to make sure that Sam hadn't caught that. He sticks his tongue out at Dean, being sure to keep his pen in his mouth. It wasn't the most attractive gesture, he was sure, but he'd seen Dean and Sam do it often enough by now…it looked like something appropriate for the moment.

Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean, as he absently still flips through his notebook. Dean's hands are strong and precise, fluid with each motion. Castiel can't help but admire his hands as he works, quickly and efficiently. Dean's lips are turned upwards, gently, as if calmed by the repetitive task. Castiel is broken from his silent admiration by his own stomach growling, and he looks down, scowling at his body. It was always betraying him!

Dean laughs, bringing his eyes to meet Castiel's again, and he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. Castiel's eyes trace the smooth lines of Dean's torso, stopping at the hint of skin peeking out above his hips. Dean smirks in response, knowing exactly what he is doing. He wanders around behind Castiel's chair and leans in close, his face pressed against Castiel's ear.

With one finger, he points at the page that Castiel was stopped at in his notebook. "Drawing me while I sleep, Cas?" he whispers, seductively, breathing heavily into Castiel's ear. Castiel jumps slightly, slamming his teeth down on the pen still in his mouth and shutting his notebook with a snap.

Seconds later, in what is an unfortunate accident of coincidence, Castiel can taste the metallic liquid in his mouth from the pen he had been chewing on. He throws the pen onto the table as he stands up quickly, putting his hands on Dean's hips to push him back from him. Castiel shoots Dean a scowl before muttering, "This is your fault, Dean", and stomping towards the bathroom, ignoring the roaring laughter coming from Dean and the quieter chuckle from Sam.

Castiel runs the water, allowing his it to fill in his hands before bringing it to his mouth. He attempts to run his mouth under the sink, which doesn't quite work out. He sighs in frustration as he had managed to get his shirt wet as well somehow during this endeavor.

He pauses for a moment in front of the mirror, eyeing himself, which was rare. He opens his mouth, checking to make sure that the dark ink was gone and had left no trace. Castiel smiles slightly, at his own reflection, and for the first time in a while he can recognize a bit of himself. His eyes are blue, but a darker shade, which he admits looks much better without the heavy bags underneath. Over the last week, those had begun to disappear. Castiel runs a hand through his dark hair, noticing its length, not for the first time, and the way the ends curled slightly behind his ears and on the nape of his neck. He didn't put my stock into appearances, but he had been wondering what drew Dean to him.

A smile passes his lips again as he remembers the last few nights, and all the new ways he learned Dean's body. Which if he had to admit, he also liked how Dean learned his body too. Castiel had seen a side of humanity that was so wholly terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and he felt drunk on the sensation of it all. He knew that part of it was due to his willing partner, whose eyes would fill with such wonder and amusement at every new milestone between them.

Castiel shakes his head, reminding himself to not get lost in a daydream. He washes his mouth out with some of Dean's minted mouthwash, hoping it would remove the metallic taste that still clung to the insides of his mouth. As payback, Castiel figures he can take one of Dean's shirts to replace his which is now wet. Castiel didn't mind pulling his own weight, but doing laundry was his most hated chore, and if he could get out of washing some of his clothing…well he was happy to do so. He also didn't want to admit that he loved wearing Dean's clothing, even now, when he had a dresser full of his own.

As Castiel walks across the hallway, he removes his own wet t-shirt, and waits until he is in Dean's room before he throws it into Dean's laundry pile. He smirks slightly, opening Dean's drawer, digging his hand around for his favorite shirt. By favorite shirt, it is the one that he steals whenever he has the chance because it fits him perfectly and he knows Dean loves it on him. A wide grin crosses his face as he finds what he is looking for.

Castiel pulls the dark grey shirt on over his head, looking at the screen-printed lettering that has begun to fall off. "Pink Floyd" it reads, and by now, Castiel actually understands that reference…having spent enough time driving around with Dean to be at least slightly "educated". The shirt is a bit small on Dean now, having shrunk in the wash repeatedly. Castiel is shorter, not by much, but enough that this shirt fits him snuggly but it doesn't ride up when he walks. Although the last time Dean wore it, Castiel didn't complain either.

As an afterthought, Castiel remembers he needs to grab a new pen, before heading back downstairs. He opens the top drawer of Dean's desk and exhales, annoyed, not finding a single pen. His fingers hover over the next drawer, a slight shiver going down his spine. His fingers wrap underneath the handle, slowly, because for some reason he is now apprehensive. As he pulls it open, his heart falls.

It doesn't take more than a second for it to register. He could feel the pull as soon as his hands touched the desk drawer handle, and he can't even see it now but he can feel it. Castiel wants to slam the drawer shut, pretend he didn't see, and walk back downstairs in Dean's t-shirt. Dean would bug him about stealing his shirts, and Castiel would laugh and Sam would try to ignore them being so blatantly obvious. Dean would later pin Castiel to the bedroom door and tell him how much he loved when Cas wore his clothing. Everything would go on the way it had been, and it would be fine.

But Castiel can't do that, and his hands are shaking as he reaches out, even when he tells himself to stop. It's tucked away to the very back of the drawer, behind junk and things that Dean would never need, wrapped in a sock and concealed in a vial…is Castiel's grace.

Castiel doesn't need to see it to know, he can feel it inside of him, feel his own former essence contained. He reaches for it anyway, because it is his, and this changes everything. He pulls the old sock out, dropping the vial into his hands, feeling its pulsating warmth in his hand.

He doesn't even realize that he is crying until a drop falls into his hand, still outstretched and holding the vial. For the first time in a long time, Castiel feels lost again. His mind wanders back to the story Dean told him, and he feels the anger flame up in the back of heart, forcing its way forwards. He knew Dean had left something out, but he trusted him. Castiel's fingers clench around the bottle, as his hands shake and tears fall silently.

"Hey Cas, what's taking so long?" Dean interrupts, lazily wrapping his arms around Castiel's midsection and pulling him close.

Castiel flinches, stiffens, and steps away from Dean, turning to face him.

"What's wrong? Did you-" he stops, as his eyes travel from Castiel to the open drawer. He notices the way Castiel's hand is clenched tight around something and his own world seems to come crashing down as realization washes over him.

"You had this, you knew…the whole time" Castiel begins, his voice wavering as he opens his fist to show Dean the vial of his own angelic grace.

"Cas, you need to understand…let me explain"

"No, Dean," Castiel finds his resolve, or gives in to his anger, which is more likely. "There is nothing to explain. You lied to me. Even when you knew that being human, all of this…I had no choice! You told me to trust you, and I did," He spits outs, his eyes going cold.

Dean reaches out to grab Castiel's hand but Castiel pulls back, and so Dean lets his own arm fall to his side in defeat.

"Cas, please" he says quietly, pleading. "Let me just explain".

"Dean, I don't want to hear it. I'm done," Castiel says, barely knowing what that even means. The words were falling out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. Bitterly, he thinks that it is such a human thing, and that it was obviously what Dean wanted, so he would give it to him; unabated thoughts and half-meant insults.

Castiel takes two steps towards the door, pausing only to hear Dean say one more thing as the door closes behind him.

"So you'll leave me too".