Dean did not come back to his apartment. Cas waited for the tell tale lights that would have come on, the lights that he would have seen from his perch on the fire escape. A few days later, he got a call from Mary telling him that Dean would be staying with her and John for a time. That they wanted him to be close, so that they wouldn't worry while he was recovering. She had not said much more than that, and Cas did not pry, at least not much. He had asked whether or not she thought he was okay. The question had been heavy with implication. She had answered in kind. She said that only time would tell.
And like that, time passed. Cas was painfully aware of it again. Time had become a thing that he was starting to lose track of as more of it seemed to be made available to him. Whole days could pass with naps and lazy day activities. He could forget whole minutes or hours when asked what he had done on a particular day. It hadn't been that way before, and it had all changed from the moment that he had met Dean.
He thought of him often in the days that passed, in the moments that he wasn't texting him and getting back the immediate replies. He still messaged Charlie and vice versa. She was sympathetic, and told him that she would do her best to keep up with Dean. He didn't return her messages though. Cas had not messaged Dean in the days since their trip to the hospital. He figured that when Dean had told him to leave, that he had meant in all ways and forever. It was a crushing blow to him, yet he could kind of understand too. He had apparently accused him of something rather awful. If it weren't true, then he had made a harmful mistake. There was no fixing it now. Frankly, he didn't even know why he had said any of it. He didn't know what Dean's intentions were. He couldn't, so why would he make the accusation.
He met with Missouri again and they had shared their findings with each other. It included a fat lot of nothing. He mentioned how he had behaved in the hospital, and she comforted him, told him that if Dean knew anything that he would know that the words came from a place of affection and concern. She told him that she'd email him the links to the articles that she had found. He had thanked her and left.
His apartment was cold and lonely. He toyed with the idea of inviting Charlie over. He thought that he was too depressed for that, didn't want to bring her down. Instead he made a quick meal for himself and decided to edit Lucy's manuscript. He was cruel in his edits, and thorough. The markup on the pages seemed to outweigh the actual contents. Two hours in and he smiled at his work. It was not unreasonable, but it did look daunting. He would have to run it by his parents first.
Time crawled by as the night descended on him again. How many days had it been since Dean last spoke to him? Leave, leave, leave. It was an echo, a horrible echo that he couldn't escape. It felt like years, but it had been less. The nights were the worst with the cold. He got up again at 3:00 am and he wrote. He had dreamed of the stranger again, the man that followed Ruby. His clothes were dark even as he watched them from under the yellow glow of the streetlamps.
He was in the office building. He was in the fire station. He was outside their home. He was still everywhere, watching, watching, watching. It was from the dreams of the stranger that Cas would often awaken in a cold sweat, heart racing. He couldn't settle down until he was at the keyboard, and it was always 3:00 am. It was always then that the story needed to be told.
The sun rose again, and he was warming gradually. His hands fell back down to his sides as he stared at the words that he did not remember typing. He clicked away from it to his email. True to her word, Missouri had sent him a ton of links. They all had at least some connection to Sam's death. He clicked on one in the middle. It had been an obituary. He read it quickly. He knew most of it already. There was an article about the fire. The fire department had gotten the fire contained by 10:00 pm. He read another article that talked about Sam without using his name. They said that a man had been brought in after being trapped in a burning building. The article had been vague on many other points too. It had said that the man's wife had been at the scene, and had been taken to the hospital to be treated for shock. Sam was not married.
He clicked away and felt a chill pass through the room again. He was afraid. He pulled his coat off of the back of the chair and onto his shoulders. "Sam?" There were coins on his nightstand. They were stacked in neat rows. He had pulled them out of his pocket at the end of the night. He felt the chill again, like a breeze just brushing his skin. "Sam?" He asked again, this time with more volume. The curtain billowed out, and the coins fell. The room grew warmer, but Cas did not feel any better.
Another week passed, and still no sign of Dean at the apartment. He decided to start letting himself see daylight again. The dreams had eased up. He had only had two of them since the coins fell. He got dressed in what could barely be deemed passable outdoor wear. He had on grungy sort of black sweat pants, and a faded green t-shirt. He had toyed with the idea of running. Enough time had passed now since the surgery that he could safely do it. He had certainly wanted to before, but now he just couldn't feel it.
Instead he just walked out of the building and down the sidewalk towards Ellen's place. He wasn't sure if this was an encroachment on Dean's territory, but it was the only diner that he really knew. Yes, it was a flimsy excuse, but he didn't care. The place was big enough for two of them, and it wasn't like Dean would be in there anyway. He was still out at his parent's place.
He walked in and plunked himself down at the bench seat that he had come to think of as his. The warm morning sun was cutting through the window in a long rectangular arch. Ellen wandered over and took a seat across from him. "You doing okay, Cas?" She reached over and rested a hand on his arm and that was all it took. He lowered his head to her hand and felt his body shake a little with a tiny sob. She put her other hand on his head and smoothed away at his wild hair. "I know sweety. Mary told me. I know." They stayed like that for a time. She just kept cooing comfort and he just kept letting her.
When he had finally gotten it out of his system, he sat up and swiped at his cheeks to destroy the evidence. He looked around the room to be sure that no one had noticed. No one was actually there. He breathed out a little sigh of relief. "I'm sorry."
"Don't see why you think you need to apologize. You've done nothing wrong." She kept her hand on his while she spoke.
"I didn't intend to get emotional about it, least of all here." He swiped at his face again, to be sure that he had gotten rid of the evidence.
"Saw Dean the other day."
Cas leaned into the table a little more. "How's he doing?"
"Better. His parents have made sure that he knows just how stupid his plan was. He could deny it all he wants, but they have made it clear that they know, and that they would not be okay. He's getting treated. They have a good therapist. Dean hated it at first, but he's going of his own free will now. He started back at work again. He's been commuting from his parent's place."
"Sounds good. You think that he is doing better then?"
"I do. I don't think that he could have been doing any worse. He had seemed like he was on a good path. When you two came in, it was the happiest I'd seen him in some time. I'm talking even before Sam's death. Dean didn't laugh much. He didn't really have friends. He had acquaintances, people that he could pick up and cast off without a backwards' glance. He didn't need them after all, because he had Sam. When Sam died, I think that he realized how much he didn't have in the friend department." Ellen got up. "Let me get some food going for you, okay. I'll be right back." She moved off to the back and he could hear her talking to Ash. She came back and sat with him again. She slid a mug of coffee over to him. She had one of her own.
Cas reached over to the cream and sugar and started doctoring it up. "It was nice being his friend too. I hadn't really had much of that in my life. I had always thought that it was a type of rudeness to bring someone into your world if your were just going to leave them."
"Sounds like someone needs to teach that lesson to Dean. Of course, I think in your case you were wrong too." She sipped from her coffee.
"Really, how so?"
"You just took yourself away from them all before they could even get the opportunity of knowing you. Not much kinder if you ask me, seeing as you are a good person to know, Cas."
"Yeah, I can think of one person that would disagree with you on that point." He sipped from his coffee now. Ash wandered out with a plate of pancakes. He slid them over to Cas with a grin. "Thanks Ash."
"Yeah, enjoy. Hope they are your thing. Ellen just kinda guessed."
"They look great. I'm a fan of pancakes." He ran some butter over them and covered them in syrup. Ash smiled and went back to the kitchen.
"Dean wouldn't disagree with me, just so you know. He's just stubborn. Probably taking an immense amount of willpower to just keep from calling you. I assume he hasn't yet. Am I right?" Cas nodded. "He'll come around. He likely thinks he's hurting you by dragging you into his depressed headspace. He doesn't like being a burden. He likely thinks that he is one."
"What should I do?"
"Give him time. He'll come around." She gave him a final pat as the door clanged behind him. "Gotta go tend to my customers. Enjoy your food, sweety." She wandered off and Cas ate in silence. The pancakes were good, and the talk too. It was good to have perspective.
After that day in the diner, he made eating there a habit. He went in each morning and ordered the pancakes, with a side of scrambled eggs. He had a coffee too. Eventually he didn't even have to say the order out loud. Ellen would just say, "The usual," and he would nod his consent. He started editing manuscripts there on his laptop. It became a second office space for him.
Two weeks into his routine, and the world outside decided to unleash a massive summer rain storm. He had his leather satchel up over his head as he burst into the diner. Ellen was at his side as he made his way to the booth. She had a towel at the ready. "Crazy, huh?"
"Yeah. It's like one minute it was 80 degrees and sunny, the next is a deluge."
"Worst part is that it didn't get cold. It's gonna be like trying to breathe in hot soup." She leaned down to his ear and said in a whisper, "Dean's at the counter." She got back up but left him the towel to finish drying himself off. He glanced over at the counter and saw the unmistakable form. Dean had his foot curled up around the center post of the seat. He had a half drunk soda glass sweating away in front of him. He was not eating. He was holding his fork though in a type of pantomime of eating. The plate was half empty, so he must have been eating before and now he wasn't.
Cas decided to look busy. He pulled out his latest manuscript. He was already half way through it. He had a green pen for this one. He began reading where he left off. The scratching sound of his pen was too loud. For some reason, Ellen didn't have the radio playing. The room should have been full of Elvis, Chuck Berry, or the Platters. There were other customers in the diner, but somehow Cas could still hear his pen over the sounds of their voices which were all just a part of the general hum of the place. He glanced at Dean's back again. He was wearing a dark green jacket. He didn't look like he was dressed for work. Cas wondered if he would be going by the apartment. These are all things you could ask him. He didn't though. He didn't want to experience the moment when Dean asked him to once again leave.
Ellen brought over a mug of coffee and a look. The coffee sloshed out a bit as she set it down in front of him. A few minutes later and she was back with his usual order and another look. He ate the food half-heartedly. He looked back at Dean from time to time. He forced himself to stop looking. Dean eventually got up and was almost out the door when Ellen called out to him. "You gonna leave without saying goodbye?"
He turned back to her and said, "Goodbye, Ellen." He was out the door. He walked past the window right in front of Cas. Cas didn't look up until he was sure that Dean was well past him. He watched him go, and he felt the old sadness surge up again.
Ellen came over to him and swatted him with a towel. "You couldn't get up and say hey?"
"He didn't want that. If he did he would have said hello." Cas pushed away the half eaten food.
"Maybe he thinks the same thing. Next time, you go talk to him." She walked away then, but Cas made her no promises.
After weeks of not seeing Dean, he was now seeing him everyday. Ellen grew more and more irritated with them both. At one point, he was pretty sure that she was giving Dean the same harassment that she had subjected him to.
Some days he would leave first, other days Dean would leave first. Neither of them seemed to note the other's existence. Well, Cas noted Dean, subtly. He noted the way that he sounded when he spoke with Ash. He noted the way that he moved and also didn't move. He wanted to move to his side. He wanted to wipe away the last three weeks and just make it all okay again.
Dean didn't want that though.
He left first that day. Later, when he got home his phone started buzzing. His mom was calling. After sifting through the lengthy conversational tidbits, dad did this and that, Michael did this and that, Anna and the kids did this and that, she finally got to the point of her call. "We've been invited to the Winchester's for dinner. Are you available tomorrow night?"
"Oh, I don't know. You sure that they asked you to include me?" He wasn't sure how he could get out of this, but he knew that he absolutely must do just that.
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course they want you there. Dean's gonna be there. Mary made sure to ask for you specifically. She said they expected you to make it." Becky was off on another tangent briefly while Cas contemplated Mary's invitation. "So, you want us to pick you up on the way?"
"Uh, sure. When?"
"We'll be there at a quarter to 6. Make sure you are ready." The conversation ended with the usual terms of endearment. He hung up and wondered just how much Dean knew about the invitation. Does he even know that I'll be there?
He worried about it well into the night. He did his best to distract himself. He even sat out in the courtyard late at night tipping back a beer while he edited his story. Most of it read like something new to him. He remembered bits and pieces of it, but a lot of it was foreign. He looked up at one point and noticed that there was a light coming from Dean's window. Despite how much he tried to keep himself from caring, care he did. He wondered for a moment if maybe the dinner invitation was the thing that had pushed Dean back to his apartment. If he was here, that would mean that he would not be expected at his parent's home.
Cas smiled up at his light. "Manipulative little bastard." He tipped his head back and looked up at the small patch of sky that was visible from the courtyard. It hadn't rained since the weird freak storm, so the sky was clear and so full of stars. He gathered his laptop and now empty beer bottle. He made his way back to his apartment. He now had every intention of going to the dinner. There was no good reason for the change in attitude, but he was most definately going. That damn light in his window had somehow changed everything.
Friday morning had the scent of promise as he opened his eyes. The morning light was just breaking through the edges of his thick dark curtains. He got up in the morning and made an executive decision. Today he would run. He went into the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out the clean pair of sweatpants that had been sitting there, tempting him into activity. He pulled them on and surveyed his appearance in the mirror. He went back to his bed and sat down.
He pushed his feet into his tennis shoes and then bent down to lace them up. He reached back onto the bed and pulled a semi-clean tee shirt over. He sniffed it first and found it tolerable. He put it on and stood in front of the mirror again. He looked ready, he thought. He stretched up to the ceiling, fingers tangled together. He tested out a tiny jog in place to see how it felt. I'll even order a light meal today. No pancakes. He made the promise, and after a few stretches, he was out the door.
He took a longer route that wound out past the park about a half mile from his apartment. He would also end up running past the firehouse where Dean worked. Dean would not be there yet, he thought. He pounded through the park, taking in the rush of green all around him. The air was crisp and biting. He could feel it tickling his lungs. He was invigorated by the way that it felt. The jog felt like everything he had imagined.
The jog was becoming tiring as he left the park and took to the streets again. He ran along the sidewalk and saw the firehouse just ahead. They seemed to be doing something in the side yard. The ladder was raised and the hoses were out. He slowed up and decided to take a break at the corner. He could see their efforts quite clearly. They were practicing or something; he wasn't sure. They had one person climbing the ladder while someone else was running the hose in a long line from the truck to the building. It was fascinating to watch, like a carefully orchestrated dance. He gripped the trunk of the sidewalk tree that grew up out of one of those decorative grates that one often finds in the city. He could feel his heart rate a steady pounding that was taking over every square inch of him. His ears especially could feel the bass drum of it.
He did not want to stand there for too long as his heart rate might decrease too much, and then it would all be for nothing. After all, what was the point of running if not for the heart? He turned to begin the final leg of the run, all two blocks of it, when he noticed that he was not quite alone.
Dean had just come out of the station house and was leaning up against the doorframe, staring over at him. Guess I was wrong about his work hours. He gave Dean a small wave and Dean waved back then tipped off of the doorframe to walk over to him.
"So, you just hang around outside my work now too?" Dean stopped a few feet in front of him and squinted over at him.
"Uh, no. I was jogging. I was a little winded and decided to take a break." He was shuffling about and kept thinking about what his body was doing. What do I do with my hands? I don't have side pockets. God, they are shaking. Put them in the back pockets. NO, that will look stupid. What kind of stupid sweatpants have back pockets but no side pockets? He is looking at me. Did he say something. I need to listen better. No, I need to escape. I need to get to the diner. Make an excuse or something.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Cas matched Dean's sound of annoyance.
"What do you mean well what? I asked if you were going to Ellen's."
"Oh, yeah. I am." He looked off toward the path that would take him to the diner and then back at Dean. "So, um, your parents invited me over for dinner tonight."
"I know." Dean looked off at a point just over Cas' shoulder. "Figured you'd decline."
"I didn't." Cas watched Dean's face as it kept up a pretence of not looking at him.
"I know."
Cas felt irritated again. So, here we are after weeks of not talking, and all he can do is mutter at me. He moved past Dean toward the diner. Dean fell into step at his side. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to Ellen's." Dean kept up with Cas' pace.
"No, I mean, what are you doing?" Cas stopped suddenly and looked at Dean's back, because he didn't get the memo that Cas would be stopping.
"I don't know Cas." He turned back and looked positively defeated.
"So, you don't talk to me for weeks and then suddenly you want to walk me to the diner?" Cas' tone had bite. Dean flinched.
"So, you don't talk to me for weeks and then you suddenly find yourself standing out in front of my work?" Dean's tone had bite too.
"If I recall, you told me to leave. So I left." He started walking again. He turned his head back and added, "In case you didn't notice, this is me leaving again."
He made it to the diner and went inside. He sat at his usual booth seat. He heard the door clang open behind him. Dean moved deliberately to his usual counter seat. He didn't hook his leg back behind the seat post though. Instead his feet began to furiously tap at the floor beneath him. Cas made an effort not to pay attention.
Ellen came to him first and leaned down. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He looked up at her.
"You want the usual?"
Castiel remembered his promise to himself from earlier. "No, today I would like a salad. A big salad with a lite vinaigrette."
He heard Ellen's suppressed snort of laughter just before she spoke. He looked at her, trying to read the moment. "Really, you want a salad with a lite vinaigrette? You've been coming here for months, and suddenly you want a salad."
"I decided this morning to try to be a little healthier. The occasional salad would be beneficial." He was back to his indifferent, more formal tone.
"Yes, healthy is good, but it is barely 9:00 am. No one gets salad at this hour." She turned away before he could reply and immediately busied herself behind the counter. She came back a moment later with a large salad, nothing spectacular, just iceberg lettuce, three bean salad, and some shredded carrots. Next to the salad she set down a small metal cup full of dressing. "There you go. Enjoy."
"Thanks, Ellen. Could I snag a cup of coffee too?" He chanced a smile.
She smiled back and said sure as she walked back to the counter. She started chatting with Dean but Castiel tuned them out and began munching lazily on the salad. He felt some regret at the thought that he was so close to pancakes and eggs, but they were not on his table. Maybe I don't need to be this healthy. Ellen was heading back over with two plates of food. She set them down on the table. "So, Ash thought that you were ordering your usual, and he threw these together before I could tell him. You don't have to eat them, and there's no charge, but if the salad is not quite enough, well, you can have these."
"Oh, thanks." He was quiet then and stared at the plates, inwardly debating over whether or not he would deviate from the healthy promise. He flipped his coffee mug over as a reminder for Ellen for when she came back. He set down his fork and contemplated the food in front of him. I could jog home too to justify the excess. He thought about that and was almost convinced.
"So, you want some coffee?" Dean stood next to the table with the coffee pot in hand, ready to pour.
"You waitressing now too?" He glared up at him.
"I believe that I would be a waiter, in case you hadn't noticed. And yeah, I saw my shot and took it."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Nevermind. Here." He poured the coffee into Cas' mug and lingered a bit. "You got quite the spread going on here. You gonna eat it all?"
"I told myself that I would be eating healthy today. I am having a hard time keeping my promise to myself."
Dean laughed a little and sat down in the bench seat opposite Cas. He set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table. Cas felt nervous about its placement and immediately moved it a little. "Looks like you need help dealing with temptation." He plucked up a fork and started slicing into Cas' pancakes. He took a thick forkful and stuffed it into his mouth. He mumbled past the mouthful, "Yeah, I can see why you order this on the regular."
"Help yourself." Castiel motioned over the food with an air of disdain that he didn't really feel. Dean shoveled a few forkfuls into his mouth, and Cas watched him for a few minutes. Finally, he broke the silence. "I don't get you."
"Yeah, well sometimes I don't get you either." Dean stared across the table at him, mouth full of Cas' extra food. Cas was chewing on a boring mouthful of salad and Dean was eating his pancakes. He was feeling the anger rise up again.
"You have no business being mad at me." Cas finally blurted out.
"You're right." The admission threw Cas. He had expected a fight.
"I'm right?" He had to ask.
Dean repeated, "Yeah, I said you're right. I'm sorry." He dipped his head back down and ate his way through the rest of the top pancake, the one with the most butter. It was melting into the middle, creating a little butter lake, and why didn't he spread it around? Now all of the butter will just be in the middle. Cas reached across the table with his knife and moved the butter around the pancake. Dean watched him. Cas retreated back to his salad. Dean took another bite of the gloriously fluffy pancakes.
"So, you think you can just come over here, steal my food, say you're sorry, and it is all good now?" He didn't know why he was unwilling to accept it. He had felt like Hell for the last couple of weeks, and he maybe wanted Dean to know a bit of that feeling now. Of course, the look on Dean's face told him that maybe he already had been feeling it.
"You're right. I don't know what I was thinking." He started to get up to leave. Cas reached over and caught his arm, pulling him back.
"Wait, I'm sorry. You're trying. I just…" He looked away for a moment then back. "I was mad. I wanted you to know how it felt. I'm not good at being friends."
Dean settled back into the seat again. "You're great at it actually. I suck. I'm really sorry."
"Okay." They sat like that in silence for a time. Dean dove back into the pancakes. Cas stole a forkful of eggs.
"I thought that you were eating healthy."
"I was. Eggs are healthy." Dean pushed the plate of eggs closer to him. He kept working his way through the pancakes.
Dean cut through another wedge of pancakes and was about to bring it to his lips when Cas reached out and pulled the forkful to his own mouth. Cas let go of his arm once the pancakes were his. Dean went back to cutting into another wedge of pancakes. "So, you know, if you want the pancakes, you just had to say so."
Cas laughed at him, "This way I don't have to feel guilty."
"Don't see how." Dean stabbed another piece of pancake and watched Cas to see if a theft was going to occur. Cas just watched him, so he raised the pancakes to his mouth and ate them.
Cas smiled and explained. "I jogged today. Been planning it for some time. The doctors told me that I needed to wait for three months, at least, before doing any strenuous activities. Even then they told me to be careful. Well, today, felt like a good day for a run. I figured I should eat a healthy salad to celebrate it. Then the pancakes happened and then the eggs." Cas scooped up some eggs and ate them. He swallowed them down and added, "So, if I steal from you, it's like I'm still eating healthy. The theft is a joke; it doesn't count."
"Well, that's one way of looking at it." Dean cut into the pancakes again and Castiel planned to reach out and snag them with his fork. Just as Dean made the second cut, Castiel's fork made its move. Dean countered, though with a fork swipe. The two utensils came together like tiny swords. Castiel parried and dove at the pancake from a different angle. Dean won again and held the pancakes on his fork off to the side in a sign of victory. "Ha. Winning at the great pancake wars of 2015."
"Well, you sound pleased." Castiel tried to look significantly depressed about the loss. "It's about to drip. Eat the spoils of your warfare before you get syrup everywhere." Dean swooped the fork in a dramatic arc back over the table and toward his mouth. Castiel reached out and pulled Dean's fork to his own mouth and ate the pancake.
"Ha, winning." He mumbled around the stolen mouthful. He leaned back into the seat, a self-satisfied look on his smug face. "Sweet, sweet victory." He chewed the pancake slowly and then set down his fork.
"You seem to be pleased with yourself." Dean made a couple of quick moves to get food to his mouth before any further theft could occur.
"I am." They sat there for a time, Dean eating with less fear of food theft and Castiel just watched in quiet amusement. What am I doing? I was never going to talk to him again. Now, I'm stealing food off his fork and shit. I think I'm flirting. I'm not capable of such things. This is bad. I need to shut this down. He kept watching Dean eat. The fork loaded up passing over his lips. Then Castiel remembered that that fork had been in his own mouth. That fork was in my mouth. It is in his mouth. It was in my mouth. Shutting down now. Window. Look out the window. There is certainly something out there to concentrate on.
"Whatcha thinking? You look bothered." Dean set down his fork and leaned back to wait out the answer.
"Nothing. My mind is a blank slate." Castiel lied quickly.
"Sure." Dean looked like he doubted him. "Really, what's on your mind?"
"I plan to keep my thoughts to myself. I have to have some privacy." Castiel kept looking out the window.
"So does all of this," Dean waved his fork over the food, "mean that we are okay now?"
"Yes, unless you act like a dope again. Then I get to beat your ass." Cas punctuated his sentence with a wave of his fork.
"Fair enough." Dean set down his fork and picked up his mug of coffee. He took a sip."I've been going to a therapist. I plan to keep going."
"Good. I think that most people probably benefit from having a professional to talk with. I went to therapy for a time."
Dean nodded and they resumed eating. "So, if I randomly start texting you again, it won't be weird?"
"Everything with you is weird, but we'll make it work." Cas' lip curled up into a half grin. Dean mirrored the look and sipped at his coffee.
"I'm glad. I thought that I really fucked everything up." Dean wouldn't look at him. He hung his head down, pretending to concentrate on the inside of his mug.
"You didn't." Cas reached over. "I missed you, ya know."
Dean looked pleased, but said instead, "Ya sap."
"Takes one to know one."