"Fuck" Dean cursed as he sat up in the bed of the truck, looking around at the forested area they'd stopped in. There was a gravel road, a mailbox and a small house down a path. Dean looked at the man who'd just revealed him to the light.
"I told them I hadn't seen you. Am I going to jail?" Castiel asked, voice flat as always, cocking his head to the side as he stared at Dean. Dean rubbed a hand over his face before shaking his head.
"No, only because I wouldn't tell them you knew I was back here." Dean explained, rolling his eyes at himself, he was being generous. But then again Castiel seemed a little… off, so he was cutting him a break. Plus he didn't know where he was, how to get back to town, or if this square was actually a serial killer about to turn him into hamburger.
But Castiel just nodded and climbed back into the cab, like he just wanted confirmation from Dean.
Dean sat up the rest of the ride, the truck rumbling down a gravel road through thick lush green forest, a few off roads, mailboxes half covered by bushes, all the way until they turned and the truck trudged up a till down a thin driveway and stopped in a grassy yard.
The house was… small, mostly. Dean looked at the small home, couldn't be a family home unless you got a little too comfy. There were a few stray chickens and a few flowers planted haphazardly in the dirt under the windows.
Dean looked back at the driveway… what a good place to lay low till he could get to the train station… no one would look for him here.
No one would look for Dean Winchester in the quaint little house in the woods owned by the dork weirdo from the convince store. It was perfect. He just needed Castiel to let him in. Maybe a bit of a sexual confusion, some pity, Dean could really play it up…
Castiel made his way around the truck to pop open the tailgate, the metal screaming as the gate fell down, leaving the man to stand and stare at Dean, eyes looking him over with a kind of… curious anxiety. Dean felt something twist in him, eyeing the other man, if he wanted to stare, Dean could stare too.
He was still wearing that damn longsleeve but his work vest was shed, leaving his usually hidden torso a bit more visible. Dean wouldn't have guessed the weirdo to be so… trim. Square shoulders that lead down to a broad chest and a nice tapered waist, cotton stripes fitting more snug to his body, giving Dean a good look.
"Are you… hungry?" Castiel asked, eyes shifting around for a moment before he finished the question, eyebrows pitching together. Dean blew a breath out of his nose and shrugged.
"Why? Is this your house?" Dean asked as he moved to swing his legs off the edge of the tailgate, letting them fall on either side of the other man's body, leaning forward into his space. Why would he bring Dean to his house? What a dummy, doing something so stupid, Dean thought.
Castiel stood still, going a bit tense as he looked at the house, swallowing thickly before flexing his hands and nodding. Dean watched as his Adams apple moved, wondering if he was strong or skinny…. he had those thick arms… but then again Dean had met plenty of guys who were too dumb to know how to use their gym strength.
"I could eat." Dean said, letting his voice go quiet, leaning heavily into the innuendo, looking up at Castiel through his eyelashes, blinking slowly, really putting it on. But the other man just took a big step back, putting space between them, before walking up to the front door.
Dean sighed, this was going to be more difficult than a fuckabout for a few days. Weirdo, of course it couldn't be easy as that. So he meandered up to the house, scanning around the yard. Trees, trees, chickens, a stray shovel, and… Dean stopped as a breeze rolled through, the sound of the leaves shifting was also tinged with… He was staring at the woods as he heard the jingle of a wind chime. He couldn't see it but he could barely hear it.
But then the front door was opening and he was stepping into the house, watching as Castiel kicked off his shoes by the door, foot pushing them onto a small rack, keeping them in the space where it looked like they had always belonged. Dean kept his own shoes on.
"I am making dinner for myself but I can… make two." Castiel said, voice coming out tight. Dean raised an eyebrow as he followed the man deeper into the house, walking into an open space with the kitchen on one side and a c ouch and small TV on the other, seeming like the whole house was only maybe… three rooms.
Dean nodded, minimal, maybe this guy wasn't going to turn him into hamburger. But there was shit places to hide if the cops did end up here. Dean followed to one of two doors on a far wall, watching as the man opened it.
"I need to change first." Castiel said, staring into his own bedroom as Dean stepped up close behind him, looking into the room. Dark blue with….
Dean squinted and looked at the walls over the other man's shoulder. Constellations and…. maps? Star maps? Dean didn't know if he'd seen anything like it before, the ceiling was carefully painted with a system of layers and layers of paint. There was a desk to one side, oak and old looking, covered in books and papers, a journal open in the middle of it, pen abandoned between the pages. Opposite of it was a big bed, Dean could have moaned at the sight of the large neatly made bed, simple on a simple frame.
"You want help with that, sweetheart?" Dean asked, hands going to lightly grab at the other's waist, just letting his fingers press against the waist of his pants. Castiel went tense, back ramrod straight. He didn't push Dean away though, just stood statue still.
Dean was amused by that, smiling as he let his palms press down, leaning his chin against the other's shoulder, nosing lightly at the crest of his ear. Dean turned his head, letting his lips touch lightly at the man's surprisingly cool skin, ready to get his meal ticket punched but
"I need to get changed!" Castiel said loudly, voice coming out fast as he stepped through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. Dean was left with his nose and inch from the white wood.
Dean licked his lips as he stared at the wood grain. Crack in that damn glass wall, not so composed now, are ya, Dean thought. He blew out a breath and turned to look at the rest of the house, uncaring about the dirt he was tracking around the wood floor.
TV was small but looked okay, solid DVD collection of blanket DVD cases, some good westerns, and a few romance movies. Dean liked that, could take a couple of those for the motels that had players. He sat down on the couch, leather and worn, a nice brown, no pillows. Who didn't have couch pillows? Dean then thought back to his own home as a kid, they never had a fucking pillow on the couch, at least not as far as he could remember.
A spark of angry popped inside him and he reached forward and grabbed one of the blank DVD cases, what did Mister Cold and Plain like to watc- Dean's eyebrows went to his hairline as he opened the case to find 'Daddy's Special Boys; 1 Bear vs 4 Twinks'. Dean's mouth hung open as he stared down at the disk. It was shocking to his system, that was… not the porn he would have expected. But at least it sealed the deal on Castiel being into men.
He snatched another one up. 'Naughty Babysitters; Daddy's Home' Dean couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed a few to flip through. '30 Year Old Virgin Looses In The Woods By Bears' and '3 HOUR SPECIAL MAN ON MAN MARATHON' and 'Cowboys on Cowboys; Hard Farm' they all had Dean loosing himself in laughter, a laughter that made his stomach almost hurt, the titles and cheesy little pictures on the discs were killing him.
"What is funny?" Dean heard behind him and he turned, looking over his shoulder at the other man, now dressed in plain black sweatpants and a baggy grey t-shirt. Dean held up one of the open cases.
"You watch this stuff? This is so damn corny, I could never get off to these." Dean teased, still smiling as he closed the case, tossing it to the shelf under the TV where he'd gotten them, standing to look over Castiel whose face was turning pink. He looked good wearing house clothes, barefooted on the floor, shifting back and forth as his fingers twiddled the bottom of his shirt.
"Please take off your shoes. The dirt." Castiel said, refusing to respond to Dean's comment. He turned, head down, and headed into the kitchen. Dean rolled his eyes and finally decided that if push came to shove, he could throw his shoes back on without tying them. He left them in the corner of the living room, untied and open.
Dean wandered over to the small island in the kitchen, leaning against it as he watched Castiel grab something from the fridge, bringing it to a cutting board by the sink. His hands were trembling, but Dean was too far to see it.
"You live alone?" Dean asked, staring at the way the collar of Castiel's t-shirt sank down in the back, leaving his pale nape bare. His hair was so dark, it had to make the skin seem paler than it really was. No one was that snow white without looking… sick. Castiel had begun cutting whatever was on the board, biceps flexing with the movements.
"I am not married. I do not have… a roommate." Castiel answered, trying to focus on what he was doing. Dean hummed, rounding the counter to be a little closer, standing a few feet away, leaning back against the stone top.
"Got a girlfriend?" Dean asked, head cocked to the side as he finally caught sight of what was being cut up. Bell peppers and broccoli. Gross, Dean thought.
"No." Castiel said flatly as he left the cut vegetables on the board and moved back to the fridge. Dean watched as he brought a large blue tupperware to sit beside the stove. Dean stepped up to stand right next to him.
"A boyfriend?" Dean asked, quietly between them, not letting his eyes leave Castiel's, even though the other man was staring anywhere except Dean. Castiel took in a shaky breath as he shook his head, not saying anything even if his lip quivered.
"Why not? Seems a lot more your speed seeing you got all those movies over there." Dean teased, smiling as he kept his eye contact, lips quirked up in a smirk as he watched color bubble up in the other man's face. Castiel's eyes darted over to his own TV, to his DVD out of place, to the dirt on the floor.
"I need to sweep after dinner." Castiel said, voice shaky and unsure as he stared to the side. He was getting hot, from his face down his chest. He wasn't sure if he liked it.
Dean liked it. Dean smiled and leaned in closer for a breath, letting their noses nearly touch before moving to hop up and sit on the counter, waving at the container by the stove.
"Get to it then, Cas." Dean said and leaned back on his hands, watching the other man shiver as he took in a big breath.
Castiel turned back to his weekly batch of dinner, opening the lib to the big container of mac and cheese. His hands shook as he grabbed the big spoon he used to measure with and a pot from the shelf above. Soon he was calmer, stirring the noodles till they were heated up, mixing in the fresh vegetables, double what he usually made for himself.
He grabbed the only bowl he had and looked through the cabinet with tense eyebrows. He looked at the set of dishes he had and thought maybe his ice cream bowl would work…
Dean watched curiously as the man moved so… robotically. Not like a machine but so… like the ladies from the cooking shows he used to fall asleep to. This, this, this, in this order, only. Soon Castiel held two bowls of steaming food and Dean was leaned back, moreso bored than anything. His new toy didn't bite back or put out… But a bed was a bed, and he had a big one.
"Can't believe with a personality like yours and your cooking skills someone hasn't put a ring on it." Dean said flatly as he followed behind the man who set the bowls on the tiny dining table. It wasn't much of a dining table. It was the size of a card table, one side a window with a bench, a single chair on the other side.
"I… usually sit in my chair to eat and only sit in the window to read but… you can sit there and eat." Castiel said as he put one bowl down there, placing a shiny spoon next to the bowl. Dean was about to pipe up with something sarcastic but he was starting to get the impression that it would just go over the other's head.
"Why'd you put gross shit in perfectly good Mac?" Dean complained as he took a big bite anyway. He wasn't much for… vegetables. But he had to say, these tasted pretty good. Castiel looked at him with a face of disgust before picking up his own spoon and gathering a far smaller bite.
"It's not gross…stuff. It's balanced. I have to eat… balanced." Castiel said, the last line coming out like he'd repeated it too many times, like he was just reciting something. Dean swallowed and really looked at him, perfect posture, spoon held carefully but with too much strength, chewing like he was counting.
"Mother. Then my brother, and… my doctors and my psychiatrist. Balance is… important. Balance is even." Castiel said after swallowing. Dean huffed and shook his head as he shoveled more food in his mouth. Warm, hot, filling, and free. And it didn't taste half bad. But that was some bullshit and exactly why Dean didn't listen to quack doctors.
"You're what? Thirty? Why are you still listening to people who just want to control you? That's all any of that crap is about, control. They wanna make you a cookie cutter that won't talk back. It's bullshit." Dean ranted, waving his spoon in the air, food tucked in his cheek. Castiel stared at him with widened eyes, a little shocked. No one ever said that about Mother. No one… He never…
"They want the best for me, is all. Balance and security and… and… normal life. Mother said it was all for my own good." Castiel explained and pulled his mouth into a smile like he did when the doctors asked how he was doing. He thought it was true because… because it just always was. Routine was healthy, he was healthy.
Dean shook his head and took another bite as he sat back against the window, looking around the house. It was so… empty. The only space that Castiel seemed to actually claim for himself was his bedroom.
"This is your house, right?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded, confused.
"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked, watching as Castiel paused, thinking before he swallowed. He had to be counting how many times he chewed, Dean thought.
"Since I turned twenty. So… twelve years. My brother gave me the house because it was my great grandmother's and he fixed it up for me. It was for my… independence." Castiel explained, feeling a little ashamed that he was telling this stranger about familial matters. Those were usually private.
"You've lived here for over a decade, by yourself, and you still keep it like this? I bet you're brother picked out the paint in here, I bet he got you this furniture and these dishes, and everything else in here, didn't he?" Dean asked, waving more vigorously at everything. It was all so plain and safe. For no reason.
"He didn't want me to get too overstimulated with living by myself. He didn't want to overwhelm me with too many choices." Castiel defended weakly, looking down at the bottom of the plain white bowl he'd washed and taken care of for over a decade. He didn't change anything because- because- Michael had told him that he should be grateful.
He was grateful for everything, he was-
"You're a grown man! You took the covers off your porn for who? Not you. You don't have anything to show that you've lived here. It's not your house. You can decided what counts as fucking balance or not. Make you're own choices! They wanna control you, well fuck them! You can do whatever you want, eat what you want, watch what you want." Dean went off, voice raising a bit. He couldn't believe how this man, this full grown man with a full time job was still so… so held down under someone's thumb. It enraged Dean to think of someone being kind and hard working and living under control that was so ingrained.
"I-I-" Castiel tried to talk but his chest felt tight and he was trying not to listen to the other man because no. No, it was all for his best interest. It was… His brother's helped him. Because he… they said he needed the help. The handouts. The comments.
"They said it fit my personality. That I was… plain. Easy." Castiel bit out, feeling something turn sour in his gut. Dean stood up and swung the bedroom door open, the movement making Castiel chase to follow him.
"Look at this! This is you, Cas. You let yourself have one room, you've got a whole house. This is yours. Stop letting them keep you pliant and submissive. You can do whatever you want." Dean finished as he spread his arms between the two rooms, making Castiel look between them and see.
He really had to see. Dean was like a tornado, a whirlwind of everything. He was Castiel's best friend, the only person who ever came in and talked to him and knew things about him, and he was… Castiel looked between the color of his bedroom, the layers of paint he'd put down to map out Alpha Centauri and the plain beige paint they had rolled over the old pink walls that he had adored as a kid.
"I could… paint them again?" Castiel asked, looking at Dean, just needing… confirmation that he was understanding it all right. Dean looked at Castiel's glossy eyes and finally got it. He was so desperate for reassurance from someone who wasn't a stick in the mud, from someone who didn't want to control him. Dean put his hands on Castiel's shoulders and looked at him.
"Could paint them, wallpaper, tear them down. Doesn't matter. It's your house." Dean said and watched Castiel nod, eyes wandering back to the wall.
Don't get attached floated violently through Dean's head. It was like a brain freeze, the shock of ice on a cavity, he wasn't getting attached. He barely knew the guy. He was just some broken… thing. Dean couldn't-
