#fallingfromthursday

This was ridiculous. At first, he’d felt he was at fault. He had been the one to overdrink and wake up in the dorm room of the boy who’d broke Dean’s heart. It was a huge mistake, probably his biggest one to date- he knew that. But, in all fairness, he hadn’t known that the guy who’d decided to help him that night was Benny. He had referred to himself as “Ben” and had seemed fairly harmless at the time. If he had known just who “Ben” was, he certainly wouldn’t have let him take him back to his dorm. He wasn’t that stupid.

So, once Cas had sorted through all of the evidence from the disastrous previous days, he realized that he wasn’t completely to blame. When Dean had come through the door and seen he and Benny together, he’d immediately jumped to conclusions. He hadn’t stuck around to ask questions and figure out what exactly was going on. No, he’d assumed the worst. It was insane! Dean knew Cas; he would never do something as repulsive as sleeping with that filthy excuse for a human being.

With a frustrated huff, Castiel pressed his thumb to the doorbell, pushing with enough pressure to elicit a quick shot of pain up his arm. He didn’t care. For the most part, he felt numb, and the brief pain didn’t really bother him. The ache in his chest was far worse.

Impatiently, Cas crossed his arms and continued to glare at the door as if it had personally offended him. In a way, it had by simply being a part of the Winchester Mansion. The bastards living there seemed to make a habit of ruining lives. You know, with their stunning eyes and cocky smirks and contagious laughs and- damn, those fucking suits. Assholes.

After what felt like a full five minutes- alright, fine, maybe it was only two- the door swung open. Cas suddenly felt nauseous, coming face to face with an exhausted and very disgruntled Dean Winchester. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, hair sticking up in different directions, yet he was dressed in a suit, clearly ready to head out to work. Apparently, he’d expected to spend the day at home with a pathetically hungover Castiel. But, based on the fantastic turn of events from earlier that morning, he would actually be going into work.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he grumbled, quickly looking away from Castiel’s furious leer.

“Wow, nice to see you, too, Dean.”

“Cas, I really don’t want to talk right now. Actually, I don’t ever want to talk about what I just saw. I’m hoping I’ll forget about that shit before it permanently scars me for life.” Dean’s tired grimace was quickly changing into an angry scowl, lips twisting in a way that Cas had never seen directed towards him. “This conversation is over.”

He began to close the door, but Cas reached out and tugged it back open. Okay, he had been upset before, but now? Now he was fucking pissed.

“No, we’re talking about this, whether you want to or not.” Castiel mustered up all of the courage he could and straightened, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look bigger and taller than he actually was. “You clearly got the wrong impression about what was going on with… with Benny and I.”

“Oh, really? So I didn’t just walk in on the two of you sucking each other’s faces off?”

Cas rolled his eyes because seriously?

“You can’t possibly think I’m that stupid, Dean! And, God, heartless! Who the hell does something like that? You know me better than that!”

Dean didn’t respond. He finally lifted his gaze to meet Cas’s, emerald green eyes filled with pain. It looked like Castiel had slapped him across the face or kicked him in the nuts or, hell, insulted his precious Baby.

“I… I just never thought you would stoop that low. I mean, it’s… Benny, for God’s sake! I would be pissed if you slept with anyone that wasn’t me, but him… fuck, Cas, what were you thinking?” He took a step back, voice thick with the same fear that had been in his tone earlier when he’d knocked on Benny’s door, before things spiraled out of control.

“Dammit, Dean, I didn’t sleep with him! And the kiss- that wasn’t me either! Okay, it was me, but he basically attacked me! I never consented to any of that bullshit! And I never would’ve anyway. Like you said, it’s Benny!”

Dean inched his way back into the house, watching Castiel like he was a vicious predator, poised to jump through the doorway and tear Dean’s head off. He certainly didn’t seem like he was ready to accept Cas’s apology and invite him in.

“What about last night?”

Castiel blinked, not expecting the question.

“What about it?”

“Did you… did you kiss him last night? Before you passed out?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “What? No, of course not! Dean-“

“Did you kiss him when you were sober? Before you drank those poor bastards out of house and home?”

It was Cas’s turn to take a step back, cringing at the mention of kissing Benny. Now Dean was just being mean. The question about whether he’d been sober made sense, at least, but the comment about overdrinking was completely unnecessary. He’d said it to hurt Castiel, and that wasn’t okay. Not at all.

“Fuck you,” Castiel whispered, working hard to keep the pain out of his voice as he spoke. He couldn’t let Dean know his attempt to hurt him had worked. “I’ll only say this one more time. You. Know. Me. How could you possibly… I would never do that to you!”

Dean remained silent. He didn’t even flinch when Castiel cursed, standing still with his body half-hidden behind the door. His eyes flicked down to the floor, focusing intently on the barely noticeable scuff marks at the tip of his shoes. Cas knew that look, knew what it meant when Dean backed away and stared at his shoes instead of making eye contact. He didn’t plan on apologizing, and, sadly, didn’t seem to believe him.

Castiel scoffed and uncrossed his arms. “Whatever, Dean. I’ll leave you to your pity party. I don’t know why the hell you won’t listen to me, but I can’t deal with this right now. I have a lot on my plate already with school and everything so… yeah, I need to go.”

Dean continued to stare at the ground. He clearly heard every word, though, stiffening slightly as Castiel finished his explanation.

“Just… call me when you get your shit together. Or don’t. Whatever. I don’t fucking care anymore.” Cas turned, not even bothering to check and see if Dean had finally grown a set and looked up again. Like he’d just said, he could care less. If the son of a bitch wanted to think he’d chosen to sleep with Benny and would continue to stubbornly deny every detail Castiel offered to defend himself, fine. Let him! He could wallow in his pity for all Cas cared.

Before he could change his mind, he slumped back into his car, shoved his keys in the ignition and drove. He needed to talk to someone, and Gabe just wouldn’t cut it. The likelihood of him telling Sam everything was far too great. So, probably driving several miles over the speed limit, Castiel made his way to Jo’s.

*

Gabe breathed in the delicious scent of brewing coffee. It always calmed him down, and, on a morning like this, he certainly needed a moment of peace.

Why did this always happen to him? The moment he thought Sam was done, had finally given up on trying to ruin his life, something like this happened. The big guy upstairs must spend every day watching him scramble around, laughing his ass off at how idiotic and pathetic he was.

Gabe pulled out his phone and stared down at the text conversation he had left open. The words hadn’t seemed real last night, as he’d quickly typed them out, but, now, as he looked at them, he couldn’t even remember how they got there.

What the hell had he been thinking? After everything he’d said, Sam probably thought he could waltz right in the door and whisk him off his feet. Or something cheesy like that. But if that was what he thought due to their brief conversation last night, he was sorely mistaken. Gabe had learned his lesson… right?

As if he had just been reading Gabe’s mind, Sam chose that moment to walk in the door. The confident hop in his step, his tidy appearance, his lack of five o’clock shadow- he was perfectly fine. While Gabe paced his room all night, wondering how his responses would backfire on him in the near future, Sam curled up comfortably in his large, luxurious bed and slept like a baby.

Well, not for much longer. Gabe would wipe that stupid little smile right off of his face.

“Wow, the place is really jumping today,” Sam teased, strutting up to the counter. His gaze swept over Gabe as he leaned casually against the counter’s edge.

“Oh yeah, I’m going to have to start kicking people out.” He attempted to use the same tone as Sam, but the fake smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. Pretending not to be upset with someone? Yeah, it wasn’t really his thing.

The shop was nearly empty. It wasn’t really uncommon on a day like this, around this particular time of day. The most people came in around nine. But Sam usually showed up now, right before the morning rush. Well, he had been coming around the same time as his brother- until they’d fought. Once that had happened, he’d decided to come in about two hours later, ensuring that they wouldn’t run into each other. And when it came to all of that bullshit, Gabe had already decided that the best thing to do would be to stay out of it.

“Definitely. Overcrowding is a very serious matter,” Sam jested, flashing Gabe the smile he knew made the other man’s knees buckle.

Gabe sighed loudly and turned, reaching for a cup. The best- and easiest- way to distract himself from Sam’s attempts at flirting was to prepare the smug bastard’s drink. Like Castiel, he knew Sam’s order by heart. The thought only saddened him, though, because his relationship with Sam paled in comparison to Dean and Cas’s.

“So… where’s Cas?”

“I gave him the day off. The poor son of a bitch… did you hear about what happened? You know, with Dean?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam mumbled, “Dean’s been a total pain in the ass ever since. He’s the grouchiest, mopiest son of a bitch on the face of the earth sometimes.”

Gabe scoffed, unable to keep the little sound from slipping past his lips. The vivid image of Dean poking his head out of a trash can, speaking with Oscar the Grouch’s distinctly disgruntled voice, had popped into his head and now he couldn’t seem to shake it.

“I can believe it,” Gabe chuckled, turning back to face Sam. He hadn’t moved an inch from his casual slouch against the counter. He smiled languidly at Gabe, like a lion lounging in the sun, grinning at the unsuspecting gazelle he knew would soon be his.

“He’s a piece of work.”

“Oh yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Gabe meant the comment to come out as a joke, but, without the smile to go along with it, it sounded harsher than he intended it to. He simply couldn’t make his lips twist into the fond, familiar shape of a smile. He had never really understood how people managed to look happy when they actually felt like punching a hole through the nearest wall.

“I guess,” Sam agreed with a little nod. His eyes flicked down to the warm cup held between Gabe’s shaky fingers. He lingered there for several seconds before looking back up into Gabe’s penetrating gaze. “You should sit with me.”

Gabe flinched. What?

“What?”

“You know, while I finish my drink? It won’t take me long to do it. I have a ridiculous heat tolerance.” Gabe knew that tone. It was that of a desperate man, a man at the end of his rope. Had Sam Winchester really become that guy? Because Gabe had been that guy for most of his life, and Sam certainly didn’t fit the criteria.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… would you please?”

This is exactly why he shouldn’t have been so sweet on the phone. It was all coming back to bite him in the ass now. He should probably just kick the son of a-

Wait. No, he was being an idiot. Closure- wasn’t that what he wanted? An end to this crazy game he and Sam kept playing? Last night, he had thought things through, and it had led him to only one peaceful solution: remain friends.

They could handle that. At least, he felt that he could. Sam… well, he was another story. But, at the end of the day, what would it hurt to at least give him a chance? If he fucked things up again and tried to stray down the “friends with benefits” path again, Gabe would just have to shut him down and kick him to the curb. And at that point, it would be easy to turn Sam away. That would be the final straw.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, I mean… now’s as good a time as any.”

Then, that fucking ray of sunshine had to go and smile. Gabe huffed and rolled his eyes. He removed his hands from the steaming hot cup and reluctantly moved out from behind the counter.

“Fine. But no funny business. This really is your last chance, Sam Winchester, so don’t fuck it up.”

Strangely enough, the smile had become significantly smaller.

*

Jo laughed for what felt like the hundredth time.

She and Charlie had been watching reruns of Teen Mom for hours now, critiquing every little thing the mothers did. It was, by far, the most ridiculous show they’d decided to watch together and had offered endless hours of entertainment.

“Who would ever be with that guy?” Charlie exclaimed incredulously. She gestured at the television, a disgusted sneer on her face. “I wouldn’t even think about getting with that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re you,” Jo insisted, shifting the beer in her lap from one hand to the other. She shimmied, moving closer to Charlie. Casually, she rested her head on the other girl’s crossed legs, narrowing her eyes at the teenage girl on the screen who didn’t appear to grasp the concept of baby formula.

“It’s a good thing I’m me, I guess,” Charlie scoffed. She lifted the cold bottle to her lips and tilted her head back, sighing contentedly as the flavor filled her mouth.

Jo loved days like this, when the two of them- plus Cas, of course- sat around, watching stupid television shows and drinking cold beer together. There was nothing else quite like it. She had come to look forward to occasions like this, especially after Castiel’s visits had become sparser.

The poor guy had begun to worry Jo. She had been his best friend since high school and knew him better than anyone. He hadn’t seemed this happy in a while. As a matter of fact, the months leading up to his job at the shop had been pretty miserable. He would hole himself up in his room at night with a depressing movie and shut his friends out. There were no crazy outings, and there certainly weren’t any parties.

That’s why Cas’s latest excursion into the wild world of college parties had scared Jo. Charlie had only meant well when she invited him and had asked Jo before actually going to Cas about it. But Jo had never expected Castiel to accept the invitation. He never went to the damn things. So how had Charlie finally convinced him to leave his room and experience the world?

Of course, things hadn’t gone Castiel’s way. Charlie had already filled her in on what had happened that night. Honestly, most of it wasn’t surprising. Leave it to Cas to finally see alcohol as the source of comfort that many college students thought it to be. He rarely drank, only having an occasional beer at her place at Charlie’s. So give him a keg, a cabinet filled with liquor bottles, and a crowd of eager partiers, just dying to pressure someone into overdrinking, and bam- shitfaced drunk.

Jo had been furious at first. Why hadn’t Charlie watched out for Cas? He was her friend, too, after all. But the anger had quickly transferred to the prick who’d dragged Castiel back to his dorm. The bastard had clearly been looking for an easy lay, delighted to find a tipsy, clueless sophomore. Little did he know that Castiel was far from clueless. When it came to partying, yes, he didn’t know much. But in regard to everything else? Like math and computers? No, not stupid at all.

That flame still burned in Jo’s chest, dying to get out. She couldn’t wait to find the son of a bitch and make him pay for what he’d done- and what he’d almost done.

But he wasn’t the only one she wanted to tear a new one. The man who had immediately concluded Cas was in the wrong, who hadn’t even considered that Benny had initiated things, was next on Jo’s infamous Shit List: a certain Dean Winchester. She couldn’t seem to follow his logic. Why would Cas, sweet little Cas, ever betray him like that? And with the man who had broken his heart years ago?

It was absurd! Stupid! Dean was being overdramatic and illogical, that’s all there was to it. He was too goddamn stubborn to sit down and talk with Castiel about what had really gone down. Which, after everything the two had been through, was absolutely infuriating.

“God, look at that jackass,” Charlie suddenly scoffed, shaking her head, “that girl better ditch him right now. Run out of that house like her ass is on fire.”

Jo was just about to make another snarky comment about the oblivious girl on screen. She had the perfect retort, but was cut short by the heavy clattering from the doorway.

She quickly sat up, ignoring the dizzy feeling pounding through her skull thanks to the alcohol and swiftness of the gesture. Both girls turned to look at each other and then turned in unison to stare in the direction of the loud clatter. Another knock shook the door, and the two jumped.

“Jo? Charlie?”

Jo let out a relieved sigh and smiled. It was only Cas.

“Yeah, c’mon in, Cas, the door’s unlocked!” She called out, hoping that he would do as she said instead of making her haul her drunken body off the couch to let him in.

The door slammed open, making the two girls jump once again. They stared in shock at the man standing in the doorway, confused by what they saw.

Castiel stood, visibly shaking with fury, with his hand still wrapped tightly around the doorknob. His blue-eyed stare seemed manic, and even his hair was more disheveled than usual. The sleeves of his button-down shirt were no longer rolled up, pushed back to his elbows, and his shirt wasn’t completely tucked into his pants, hanging out in a couple random places. The content little smile that generally graced his face was nowhere to be seen, and, there in its place was a furious grimace

“What? How the fuck did you lose him?” Dean snarled into the phone pressed against his ear, squeezing the offending object hard enough to shatter it if he so wished. “He’s pretty hard to miss. Especially since he probably never even walked out onto the damn dance floor.”

Silence. That wasn’t supposed to be the response Charlie gave him. She should’ve assured him that it was all just a tasteless joke, that Castiel actually spent the past several hours curled up on her couch, drooling on the cushions like he always did when he slept. But no. Nothing. Not a single word.

“Did he… was he dancing last night?” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. The thought alone made him snicker. Castiel- dancing? The sight would surely be something to behold. Cas didn’t really understand the concept of rhythm- although he tried- and he looked like the type that would spend most of his time tripping over his own feet instead of actually dancing like a normal human being.

“Um… what would you say if I, uh, told you that he actually… did dance?” Charlie practically squeaked the last few words, clearly terrified of how Dean would react to the news.

And Dean couldn’t possibly disappoint, now, could he?

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Charlie. Now is not the time for jokes. Do you hear me laughing?”

“No,” she sighed, “but I’m not kidding- I swear! One second, he was there, swaying like an idiot, and the next… he was just, er… gone.” Again, she spoke as if she could read Dean’s mind and knew the harsh response before it even slipped past his lips.

“That’s crazy. Cas doesn’t dance. I don’t think the poor guy knows how.” Dean chuckled weakly in hopes of alleviating some of the tension. He had a bad habit of taking his anger out on people who had nothing to do with what was bothering him. Charlie didn’t deserve that from him, especially since she had known Castiel longer than him and was probably just as worried about his whereabouts- if not more- as Dean was. Hell, he could only imagine how Jo had reacted. A police squadron was probably out patrolling the streets already.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t, but he tries. Or at least he did last night.” Dean could practically hear the shrug in Charlie’s voice as she spoke. “He blended right in with the crowd, though. No one really knows how to dance, and, at parties like that, they’re all shit-faced drunk so they don’t care what they look like anyway.”

Dean clenched the phone tighter, coming dangerously close to throwing it down onto the pavement. He couldn’t believe it. Cas had told him on multiple occasions that he loathed parties. He had always said that he hated the crowded atmosphere, the oppressive heat of so many bodies crammed into such a small space, and that he couldn’t handle the belligerent behavior of the many stumbling drunks as they slid down the staircase or stumbled to the bathroom. As a matter of fact, whenever Castiel spoke of the local parties, he never had anything good to say about them. So why the fuck would he go to one?

“I don’t get it,” Dean growled, “it doesn’t make any sense! It’s so unlike him! I… shit, Charlie. You need… you have to tell me everything. If some prick decided to take advantage of him, I swear to God…”

“Hey, hey, calm down. I’m just as worried about him as you are. The best thing to do at this point is be smart and try to piece everything together. We’ll find him faster that way.” She hesitated, letting out a shaky sigh, before continuing. “So, yeah, you’re right. I’ll tell you what I remember. I was just as drunk as Cas, I think, but I might be able to remember enough.”

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