#skyestielfic

The crowds crammed into shopping malls across the country made his skin crawl, and painful memories resurfaced, of stuffing himself into a suit, the Novak's prim and proper scholar, parading around family friends. Around Christmas, Castiel could've walked into any room in his house and found relatives yelling and ranting, stomping around without any concern for those that hoped to find some solace during the chaotic holiday season.

Other than the fragrant aromas of home-cooked meals and pine needles, Castiel’s memories of Christmas back at home weren’t all that fond. His parents showered him with gifts, and the remaining members of his surprisingly tight-knit family spent their stay fawning over him. Little did they know that the object of their affections hated the attention and wanted nothing more than to stay holed up in his room throughout the entirety of their week-long visit.

So, Cas’s past experiences made him a little bitter about the whole celebration. And, worse yet, he had other things on his mind this year. For the past several nights, he couldn’t keep thoughts of spittle, blood, and fists out of his head.

Castiel hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Dean about the recurring nightmare that had been plaguing his dreams ever since “the incident”- as everyone called it- had occurred. In the beginning, it was only quick flashes of horrific images, pieced together like a slideshow presentation straight from the depths of hell. They were disturbing but didn’t wake him in the middle of the night, frantic and sweating, desperate for something to cling to; that wasn't until later.

Dean tried his best to calm him down when his eyes flew open and his limbs began to flail wildly, nearly smashing into his slumbering companion's jaw or, worse, his bleary, half-lidded eyes. He whispered soothing words against Castiel’s hair, against his temple, anywhere his lips could reach, and drew his shaking body in close, arms wrapped securely around his waist. The warmth and comfort of Dean’s embrace usually helped. All tremors and shakes halted the second Dean touched him.

The first night it happened, Cas wasn't surprised when Dean asked what was wrong. He swore that it was merely a nightmare, that it wasn’t all that uncommon for him, but Dean detected the lie before he even finished his piss-poor explanation. To Castiel’s delight, though, he simply sighed and buried his face in Cas’s hair, muttering a frustrated, “whatever you say” before drifting off to sleep.

Of course, Cas never could fall back asleep. He couldn’t take his mind off the stifling guilt weighing down on his conscious. He and Dean had agreed to be completely honest with each other, and there he was, lying to him, as if the extensive conversation they’d had the day after reuniting meant nothing.

What would he say, though? That Benny had done more damage than he’d let on? Dean had other things on his mind and definitely didn’t need to tackle Castiel’s petty issues along with everything else.

“You okay?”

Castiel startled, nearly tipping off the edge of Dean’s couch and onto the floor. The other man’s arms tightened and pulled him against his side, fingers curling possessively around his midsection.

“Y-yeah!” Cas cried, flashing Dean the best fake smile that he could muster at such short notice. But, as usual, Dean saw right through it.

“Hm,” he huffed. The calloused pads of his fingers pressed into the exposed patch of skin near Castiel’s hip, lightly brushing the jut of his hipbone.

“What?”

“I just said ‘hm’, that’s all.”

“You don’t believe me,” Cas mumbled. Embarrassed, he sidled closer to Dean and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m not stupid, Dean, I know what ‘hm’ means.”

“I’m not stupid either,” Dean fired back.

Castiel’s eyes widened. He glanced up at Dean, surprised by the flicker of frustration in his gaze. Ever since Dean had taken it upon himself to steer clear of the liquor cabinet, the flickering flame of anger within him took a considerable amount of pushing and prodding to ignite.

“Dean…”

“I’m serious, Cas, what’s wrong with you lately?” Castiel caught the exasperated lilt underlying the question. His eyes flickered down to the ridiculous reindeer sweater Dean wore, focusing on an errant thread, the kind that would drive him nuts until he retrieved a pair of scissors and snipped it off.

“Listen, Dean, I- shit. I can't do this. You want… you want to know about the nightmares,” Cas muttered, swallowing the sudden lump wedged in his throat, “Right?”

Although he’d been the one to bring the issue up in the first place, Dean hesitated. Cas watched the flickering lights of the Christmas tree, the dazzling display of red, blue, purple, and yellow reflected in Dean's forest green eyes. The fingers rubbing Castiel’s skin stopped and crept over to rest right above the waistband of his jeans. Socked feet brushed against Cas’s, and the delicious smell of hot chocolate and baking cookies filled the air.

“It’s Benny, isn’t it?” Dean finally asked, a slight waver in his voice.  

All throughout college and even high school, Sam had done everything he could to avoid the commitment of a relationship. It was a frightening concept, the idea of spending the rest of your life with just one person.  Gabe had been right- even to this day, Sam probably wasn’t ready for that. And the last thing he wanted to do was use the poor guy as his test run. He’d said it once and would gladly say it again: Gabe deserved better.

To be sitting with him, in the same shop that they’d met in a little more than three years ago, was surreal. Considering their history together, it was fascinating to think of the way they’d come full circle. Right back to where the whole thing had started…

“You really think you can handle this?”

Sam looked up, right into Gabe’s wide, inquisitive stare. The uncertainly was written all over his face. He didn’t trust Sam, not like he had before- not like he had before that awful night. It only made sense, though. Frankly, if Sam were completely honest with himself, he wasn’t worthy of Gabe’s trust.

“Yeah, I… yes,” Sam insisted. He tried to pour every ounce of sincerity into the response, desperate to make Gabe understand, make him see just how he felt. “I’ll say it every day if it means you’ll believe me: I’m sorry.”

Gabe sighed loudly. He allowed his hazel eyes to carefully scrutinize Sam’s face, searching for the lie Sam knew he wouldn’t find. He believed every word he’d said. Hell, he felt the apology, the guilt, in his bones.

“Goddammit,” Gabe muttered, shifting anxiously in his seat, “you believe that. I can see it in your eyes- you believe every single word of that. And I really want to believe all of that, too… I really do! I just want this to be over, you know?”

Sam nodded his head in agreement. He knew exactly what the other man meant. He wished they could stop fighting and hated the fact they were always at each other’s necks anymore.

“Are you ready to just be friends?”

“Of co-“

“And none of that ‘friends with benefits’ bullshit you tried to pull last time?”

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

Although he tries to believe his promise to Cas, Dean knows that it’s not completely true. The three of them have done incredible things in the past, things that any three “normal” people never would’ve been able to pull off on their own. Sure, they had an angel and a man blessed (cursed?) with the Mark of Cain on their side, but it didn’t really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Plus, even after all of the unbelievable stunts they’d accomplished before, there had also been several failures in the midst of the victories.

Nevertheless, Dean still had faith in them. It was crazy, what with their checkered history and everything, but he believed in them. Hell, look at what Cas had done! He had just chosen him over an entire army of faithful followers, the brainwashed members of the unofficial Cult of Castiel. Having that kind of power and then throwing it away to spare one man’s life? Dean didn’t understand. Why would he choose him over something so… well, important? With that kind of following, defeating Metatron would’ve been far easier than it would be now with only good ol’ Team Free Will to carry out the job.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean blurted.

Castiel titled his head to the side, confusion in his piercing stare. “Do what?”

“You know, stepping down as leader of the Mindless Castiel Groupies? That angel cult you had goin’ on?”

Cas didn’t smile and certainly didn’t laugh. Dean expected him to at least fake a smile for his benefit, but he refused to move a single muscle. He looked completely unamused by Dean’s attempt at humor. “But I did.”

“No, buddy, you didn’t. I know we’re friends- really close friends, practically brothers- but that… what you did back there? Not many people would do that for a friend. I mean, you just lost a lot of manpower. And you and I both know that, no matter how creepy they were, they would’ve come in handy when we finally take on that dick, Metatron.”

It wasn’t like Dean was trying to convince Cas to get down on his knees and beg his flock of drones to come back. The last thing he had was a soft spot for the selfish sons of bitches who’d run off at the first mention of their fearless leader not being the flawless rock star they’d thought he was. He simply was confused.

“I wouldn’t do that for many people, Cas. I can count all of the people I’d make a sacrifice like that for on one goddamn hand. One.”

“Of course. I have the same stance on the matter,” Castiel agreed, nodding as he spoke. He hesitated and then smiled, grinning as if there were some little inside joke hidden in the comment that only he understood. “You are the human being that I am closest to. Other than Sam, who I care for, too, but… well, you understand. ”

He explained his feelings like they were something elementary, something Dean should’ve known by now. It was very unlike him to allow his emotions to show through in his speech. Lately, that had been changing, though- especially since his brief time as a human.

“What, like our… oh, ‘profound bond?’ Is that what you’re talking about?” Dean laughed, intending to bring up their “bond” as a kind of joke, to maybe lighten the mood. He hadn’t brought it up in a while, and the comment had always made him snicker to himself. So why not bring it up now and give the angel a good laugh?

Castiel smiled, a tiny wistful one that barely twisted his lips. Again, he didn’t react as Dean had hoped he would. The comment had noticeably improved Cas’s posture, lifting the unseen weight from his shoulders, and he straightened up in his chair. He rested his clasped hands on the table and shook his head, a silent Oh, Dean, you think you’re so funny in his eyes.

“Yes,” he sighed, glancing down at his hands, “yes, something like that.”

Dean wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. He also didn’t know how to interpret Cas’s response, his curiosity further piqued by the angel’s choice of words. He watched him carefully, observing the way he managed to look both relaxed and tense at the same time. Admittedly, Dean’s gaze also swept over the angel’s face, lingering on his mussed hair and hooded eyes, framed by surprisingly long lashes, before going back to staring at the wall behind his downturned head.

Then, a thought crossed his mind. If he had been in Cas’s shoes, would he have done the same thing? Would he have given everything up for one man, one angel? The answer presented itself almost immediately: yes.

If Hannah had grabbed Dean and given him an ultimatum, the army or the angel’s life, he would’ve chosen to save Cas without a second thought. The idea of losing him made Dean sick. He’d practically lost it when April had stabbed Castiel months ago, and he had stabbed her in return without a moment’s hesitation.  Cas wouldn’t die on his watch, not if he had anything to say about it. The angel deserved so much more than that; if he died, it would be for a noble cause, not because some angelic bitch or- God forbid- Dean plunged an angel blade in his chest.

“I would’ve done the same thing for you,” Dean admitted softly. He hadn’t expected the admission to come out as a whisper, hoping to voice it with confidence and passion, but the damage had already been done.

Cas hesitantly looked up, piercing blue eyes staring right into Dean’s soul. The confession didn’t appear to comfort him. Instead, his expression exuded concern and, quite possibly, pity. It was as if Dean were lying but didn’t realize it. Only Castiel, who apparently knew everything, recognized that he was wrong.

“Even with the blade?” Cas wondered in an equally gentle tone.

Dean could’ve punched himself. How had he forgotten? The blade… the Mark of Cain… when they took over, he was powerless, a slave to the weapon’s unspeakable power. Cas wouldn’t be the first person caught between Dean, the blade, and a random surge of uncontrollable rage. It would be easy, actually, for the angel to step in the way as Dean moved in for a kill. Or worse- he may seek Castiel out and stab him for no purpose other than to kill for the thrill and the pleasure it gave him.

But he wouldn’t. No, not even the blade could possibly push him to end Cas’s life. He would turn the hideous weapon on himself before he used it on Castiel.

It reminded him of what had happened when the angel had been brainwashed by Naomi. The bitch had forced him to stab Dean hundreds of times in preparation for the real deal. Of course, when the living and breathing Dean Winchester had been placed in front of him, the angel had dropped the angel blade like it had shocked him. He then went so far as to heal Dean afterwards, pressing his shaky palm to the side of his face, leeching all of the pain from his weak body.

“Nope, I could never go through with it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am, Cas, okay? Here, look at it this way. Remember when that- when Naomi brainwashed you?”

Castiel flinched, leaning away from Dean as if he had suddenly morphed into the dictatorial angel herself. He lowered his clasped hands into his lap and shifted nervously in his seat, uncomfortable with the new topic.

“Yes, I remember,” he mumbled, “but the blade is different. It appears to be more powerful- to have more control- over you than Naomi did over me. I believe that, sadly, if it came down to it, it could easily force you to kill-“

“No,” Dean snarled. He slammed his elbows down on the table and leaned closer, injecting enough venom into his voice to hopefully get the point across. “It doesn’t make a difference. That blade won’t make me kill you, Cas, Jesus Christ. I’m stronger than that.”

“Dean…”

“I promise,” he insisted. Castiel eyed him suspiciously, clearly skeptical about Dean’s promise, but said nothing. The angel wasn’t the biggest fan of conflict and knew that if he kept pushing the issue, that was exactly what he’d get.

This time, though, he didn’t get it.

“What about Metatron’s sick excuse for a joke? The whole ‘personal heaven’ thing? You said that Josiah was there.”

It wasn’t often that Dean changed the subject like that, but, with everything that had happened in the past several days- months, to be honest- he felt like Castiel needed a break.

“Yes, he was there. He… well, as you know, Metatron did not spare his life.”

“Yeah, I got that part. Did he say anything to you? Like anything helpful?”

Cas clearly tried to stop the subtle cringe that twisted his lips in an uncomfortable grimace. But Dean caught the little gesture. If there were anyone the angel couldn’t hide his feelings from, it was him.

“Wait, what’d he say to you? I know that look.”

“He… it was nothing, Dean. I assure you that it’s none of your concern. I would not-“

“Oh, just tell me, Cas,” Dean sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He hated it when Castiel did this, only telling part of the truth instead of the whole damn thing. He should know by now that Dean was the last person who should be and, therefore, would be passing judgments on others.

Castiel’s lips pursed, and he tensed as if he were about to stubbornly refuse answering. Instead, he sighed heavily and began his explanation.

“Well, he said several things to me concerning Metatron- the things I have already told you. But… he also mentioned something about… he looked into my eyes and claimed that he did not see an angel looking back at him.”

Dean didn’t interrupt, sitting quietly and patiently as Castiel recounted his encounter with the traitorous angel. He could only imagine what the bastard’s comment had done to Cas. The poor guy had just lost an entire army- thanks to Dean, mind you- and would lose his grace sometime soon. Once again, he would be the anxious, confused human Cas, wandering aimlessly around without any idea of what to do. Well, if Castiel was right, that’s what he would become here in the next couple weeks. It was either that or he’d die.

Both scenarios were awful. Either way, the last thing he needed to hear at a time like this was an underhanded remark about his shady history as a rebel and human sympathizer. Hell, he needed a motivational speech right now, like the cheesy kind coaches screamed at their overzealous team on the day of a championship. 

“Hey,” Dean began softly, reaching across the table to squeeze Castiel’s arm reassuringly, “you’re fine. I don’t give a damn what you are. Angel, human, hamster- whatever! I. Don’t. Care.”

Cas smiled, a small shy gesture that lit up his face although it didn’t even reach his eyes. With him, a tiny smirk was the equivalent of a devilish grin. He certainly hadn’t made a habit of smiling so Dean treasured each one, no matter how rare they may be.

With a little satisfied smirk still on his lips, Castiel muttered, “You would rather have me, cursed or not.”

Oh God, Dean remembered that day. Moments before they’d taken on Dick Roman and landed in the hellish nightmare that was Purgatory, he had admitted that he would take Castiel however he could have him. Whether it be the crazed ghost of his old self or the naïve, socially inept angel Dean had known for years.

“Damn straight,” Dean agreed, chuckling weakly.

Castiel grinned wider, a satisfied twinkle in his wide eyes. The warmth and love with which he watched Dean made him incredibly uncomfortable, but, probably not for the right reasons. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the adoration in the angel’s eyes as he spoke- it was because he couldn’t get enough of that affectionate expression. Looks like it’s time to change the subject again, Dean decided.

“So, Cas, I think it’s time I give you a tour of your room.”

*

Dean grumbled and turned over onto his other side, shifting the blanket so that one of his legs was no longer trapped in the stifling heat. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled loudly.

It was fucking ridiculous. Yeah, he was used to nights like this when he couldn’t get to sleep. Ever since he’d acquired the First Blade, going to sleep had become an unnecessary struggle. He would try everything, twisting his body into just about every position his limbs could possibly handle, but, even after several hours of tossing and turning, no dice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent sleep.

Unexpectedly, the mattress began to creak and shift, as if someone were climbing into bed beside him. As in, Dean was no longer alone.

He slowly turned, moving only his head to peek over his shoulder. His back and shoulders were far too sore from his thrashing to twist to the side. As he glanced over, there, lying beneath the covers, was none other than the trenchcoat-wearing angel himself.

“Cas?” Dean slurred, attempting to kick start his partially lucid brain. Speech was always the most difficult for him when he first woke up. Of course, he hadn’t actually been sleeping, but still.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about what Josiah said.”

Of course. Leave it to Cas to seek out Dean for comfort.

“Why’d you come here?” Dean mumbled, wishing the angel would turn over to face him. It felt weird to interrogate the back of Castiel’s head.

“I… can I please stay here, Dean? I didn’t know where else to go.” This was the moment Cas decided to roll over and face Dean as he spoke. Only a few inches of empty space separated them, but it felt like mere millimeters thanks to the intensity in the angel’s pleading stare. There was something about those wide, blue eyes, something about those chapped lips and those furrowed brows, that kept Dean from shoving Castiel out of bed and ushering him back to his own room.

“Fine,” Dean huffed, quickly turning away from the angel’s penetrating gaze. It was times like this, under the careful watch and protection of the darkness, surrounded by the warmth of a soft mattress, that bad decisions were made. “Just don’t tell Sammy. He’ll make some kind of bitchy comment about it.”

“Alright.”

Silence hung over them as it did earlier. But, under the soft glow of the moonlight, the silence seemed more foreboding, heavy with unspoken words.

Unsettled by the tension, Dean voiced a question he hadn’t originally intended to ask. “Cas, what happens when your grace runs out?”

He didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath that came from the other side of the mattress. Castiel was probably offended. He’d just been criticizing Josiah for questioning Cas’s humanity and yet here he was, doing the same thing. It felt stupid now that he’d said it.

Quietly, in a tone barely above a whisper, Castiel replied, “I don’t know.”

The admission hurt, striking like the violent contact of a physical blow. The ache in the angel’s voice might as well have been his own. It felt like he were the one being asked, as if he were the one that ran the risk of losing his grace. That was the kind of relationship he and Castiel had developed. When something happened to one of them, the other experienced it, too. Their connection went deeper than simple friendship. Dean had slowly come to terms with that frightening realization over the past couple months. He obviously hadn’t told Castiel, though. The angel wouldn’t want to deal with such nonsense.

“I… I don’t want you to die.” Dean’s throat suddenly felt tight. The confession slipped past his lips, scratchy and painful. Voicing the words hurt almost as much as the idea of sharing such an intimate thought.

“I won’t die, Dean,” Castiel swore, his words tinged with the same concern and pain as Dean’s. “It is likely that I will be a human once again.”

Before Dean could interrupt, the angel rushed on. “You probably see that as a bad thing, but, I assure you, it would actually be for the best. That way, I would have no choice but to stay with you and Sam. Like I wanted to do when I experienced humanity for the first time. Like I’ve wanted to do from the very beginning.”

Castiel’s explanation also sounded like a confession, shaky and hesitant. Dean took a little comfort in the angel’s anxiety, thankful that he wasn’t the only one laying his heart out on the line.

Everything he had said was true, after all. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Castiel, how he would live without the angel’s presence. The thought of going to bars without bringing along his awkward wingman, taking on other angels without his secret weapon by his side, slipping underneath the covers on a humid summer night with no one beside him- none of it seemed right without Cas. He just had to be there, experiencing everything along with him.

“Well, human or angel, I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Capiche?”

Cas wasn’t quick to respond, but, after a few seconds of charged silence, he mumbled, “Capiche.”

*

The weight of an arm slung across Dean’s waist was what woke him in the middle of the night.

The protective hold the arm had on him momentarily distracted him from the fact he’d somehow managed to sleep, but, when the realization did hit him, he couldn’t seem to feel anything besides relieved. He probably should’ve been concerned about the intimacy of the limb wrapped tightly around his lower abdomen, but he didn’t feel the slightest bit angry or upset. No, only relief.

He considered scooting out from underneath Castiel’s hold, shifting over into the small sliver of available space off to his left. It would certainly eliminate the chance of an awkward morning experience when Cas realized he was no longer sleeping. He wouldn’t have to ask Dean why he hadn’t climbed out of bed since he was awake. And that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

But, like the anger he couldn’t seem to feel, he found it impossible to talk himself into moving. Castiel’s body, tucked neatly against his back, didn’t make him uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, it felt nice to wake up to body heat and the soft press of fingers against his skin. He liked it.

That wasn’t why he refused to move. It was because Cas would be upset. If he woke up in the morning without Dean against his chest, he would freak out. He’d take all of his anger out on the insecure man he’d curled up next to sometime in the middle of the night.

He tried to talk himself into believing it was true, too, he really did. The comfort, though, is hard to ignore, and he knew immediately that, deep down, he enjoyed it a great deal. He woudn’t trade anything in the world for the angel lying beside him. No matter what supernatural creature he may turn out to be, he was still Cas.

As they’d parked alongside the road, Dean eyed the building suspiciously. The place seemed pretty unassuming from the outside, but, after walking through the entrance, the inside had him wondering if he’d somehow stepped into an alternate dimension.

Who would’ve ever thought that Mr. I Don’t Understand That Reference would be holed up in a place filled to the brim with modern technology? Dean definitely hadn’t considered it, and he didn’t imagine that anyone who had known the angel beforehand would’ve thought of it either.

The countless evenings he’d spent wondering what Cas had become, what he was like now that he led a small squadron of pathetically obedient fallen angels and whether the new role had changed him or left him exactly the same, were those that he refused to discuss or acknowledge out loud. It kept him awake most nights, tossing and turning in a bed that- he really wished he hadn’t considered it but- could easily accommodate another person.

Every morning, though, Sam never said a word. He knew Dean better than anyone else and quickly learned to ignore the dark circles under his brother’s eyes after another sleepless night. He never addressed the issue, and, considering the stilted nature of their relationship recently, it was probably because he didn’t care. Or, if Dean were lucky, maybe he just wanted to avoid another fight.

Quite honestly, Dean wasn’t sure what he’d expected of good ol’ Team Free Will’s next meeting. He also did’t know how he felt about the whole “thoughts of Castiel kept me from getting any goddamn sleep for the past couple weeks” issue. But, he did know one thing for sure: angels shouldn’t be working out of a place like this.

The angel, whose name Dean could’t seem to remember, gestured toward the nearest door and smiled. “He’s in here.”

Dean eyed the room skeptically. He’d been fooled too many times to just blindly accept orders. Plus, the headquarters’ setup bothered him, and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around everything he’d seen since entering the building. It was… well, it was fucking weird.

Reluctantly, Dean stepped through the door with Sam trailing behind him, looking just as uncomfortable as his brother felt. He was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel right about the angels’ new home away from home. The two had taken maybe three steps into the room before Dean froze, eyes widening.

Pictures and maps covered the walls, ranging from black and white images of Metatron’s hideous face to ones of the sky on the night the angels had fallen from heaven. The pictures appeared to be grouped together, carefully arranged by whoever had hung them. Dean slowly surveyed the space, taking in the impressive collection of evidence, before coming to rest on the man standing over a pin board in the center of the room.

Even turned away, Castiel looked exactly the same as when Dean had last seen him. The trench coat, not as ratty or threadbare as the original, was still comfortably in place, although the blue tie had mysteriously vanished. The pants, the button down shirt, the shoes- nothing had changed. He couldn’t tell exactly what Cas was doing from this angle, but he caught a glimpse of a pen clasped tightly in his hand. Dean’s gaze leisurely progressed up the angel’s body, skimming over the coat and outstretched arm, before eventually focusing in on the back of his head, smiling softly at the sight of his disheveled hair.

Admittedly, Castiel’s unchanged appearance eased some of Dean’s concern. When he’d first walked into the headquarters, he had grudgingly accepted the inevitability of Castiel’s transformation. It only made sense that the new position would change him, whether it be small, subtle differences that only Dean would notice or obvious ones that even Sam would be able to detect.

And yet there he stood, dressed in his usual outfit, sporting the same adorably mussed hairstyle. Strangely, it was probably the best thing that had happened to Dean in weeks. Based on the bullshit he’d had to endure recently, he’d expected to fail miserably at identifying the angel as his best friend when they met again. 

“Long time no see,” Dean mumbled, unable to keep a smile off his face. 

Castiel visibly stiffened and turned, piercing blue eyes widening like Dean’s had when he’d first walked in the room. Shock quickly gave way to excitement, twisting his surprised gape into a delighted grin. Castiel rarely smiled. Hell, Dean could probably only count the number of times he’d seen the angel’s upturned lips on one hand.

Then, the realization hit him: he’d really missed the son of bitch. The two had only been separated for a few weeks, but it felt as if they’d been apart for years. The thought- along with many other unsettling ones- prodded at Dean’s brain, excitedly pushing the word “love” to the forefront of his mind. It scared the hell out of him, and he immediately tried to shove it back into his subconscious, where he could continue to avoid addressing the truth behind it.

Before Dean could say anything else, something disastrous, Castiel strode across the room and hugged him.

In every single one of Dean’s imagined scenarios, he had been the one to hug Castiel. The idea of things being the other way around had never even crossed his mind. It had seemed far too ridiculous at the time, but, now that he thought about it, Cas had always done a pretty good job of surprising him.

Castiel clung to Dean as if he may disappear at any moment, as if he were a sinking ship in need of an anchor. It had been months since someone had embraced Dean the way Castiel was, like he was actually deserving of love, of compassion, of adoration. Only Sam and Bobby had shown him affection in the past few years, and, even then, that hadn’t happened since he and Sam had fought. So, naturally, Dean allowed himself to indulge and appreciate the moment.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Castiel, drawing him in a little closer. He considered resting his chin on the angel’s shoulder and fully reciprocating the hug, but decided against it. There were other people in the room, people who wouldn’t understand the relationship Dean and Cas shared. Instead, he turned his head away. The unfazed expression on the other angel’s face didn’t surprise Dean, but the pleased look on Sam’s face certainly shocked him.

Of course, he wasn't really sure why his brother's response surprised him. This wasn’t the first time, after all. There had been several occasions when Cas had said something strange-or he had said something strange- and he had quickly turned to gauge Sam’s reaction. Every time, without fail, his brother looked relieved by their interaction, as if it were exactly what he’d hoped for.

Dean swallowed nervously, but didn’t push Cas away. He just needed to keep his expression neutral, to hide the maelstrom of confusing emotions swirling through his head as Castiel continued to cling to him. He had done it before, and he could certainly do it again. The only time he’d truly allowed his need for Cas to show through had been in Purgatory, when he’d practically thrown himself at the ragged angel. But Benny was the only one who’d witnessed that, and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

Finally, after several moments of strained silence, the angel took a step back from Dean’s rigid body. Right before Castiel did, though, he whispered something in Dean’s ear, speaking so quietly that his confession almost went unnoticed.

“I missed you.”

Dean struggled to maintain his disinterested expression. The words completely caught him off guard, more unexpected than Castiel's abrupt display of affection. They played on a continuous loop in his head as he watched Castiel wrap his arms around Sam in a brief hug. Dean didn’t even hear what the two said to each other, didn’t hear anything at all, completely numb to the world around him. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.

The next few minutes seemed to fly by. Dean could only remember informing Castiel about all of the information he and Sam had dug up about Metatron, reciting each detail like a mindless robot, and listening to the angel provide his own findings in return. The exchange went well, but it still passed by uneventfully in his eyes. He was far too distracted by what the angel had admitted to pay attention to a discussion centered around Heaven's biggest douche bag. 

Once finished, the three prepared to leave the room and head down to where the rest of Castiel’s lackeys eagerly waited, ready for their master's next order. Being his usual cryptic self, Sam shot Castiel a significant look before quickly fleeing from the room before either man could beat him to it.

Dean and Cas both stood and headed toward the doorway, moving with the same frantic haste as Sam. Dean wondered if Castiel could tell just how distressed he’d been throughout their conversation. He’d hoped to hide it, but it was hard to keep all of your emotions hidden from a fucking angel.

“I missed you, too,” Dean suddenly blurted, hating himself the moment the words spilled out of his mouth.

Fantastic. Right as Castiel had stepped through the entryway, word vomit had gotten the best of Dean. The phrase he’d been dying to say for… no, he’d wanted to say it for far longer than that. The declaration had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, and his brain had just decided that now was the right moment to let it all out.

Somehow, in the short span of time Dean had already spent at the boys’ home, the damn place had turned into a wormhole of sorts.

Days flew by. If someone were to ask the hunter what day it was or how long he’d actually been a resident at the home, he would definitely have to run to a calendar or ask Sonny. When the fear of possibly losing track of time had completely consumed Dean’s thoughts, he caved and asked the home’s owner about the actual length of his stay. Surprisingly, he had been a resident there for roughly a month now and had yet to be scooped up by his brother or father. In all honesty, it shouldn’t shock him. Both Winchesters had expressed concern about Dean’s recent rebellious activity. The bastards didn’t care about coming to whisk him away because they were probably thrilled that he’d actually stayed there for a month without getting kicked out.

But then there was the whole Castiel issue. If his father showed up at the doorstep, right then and there, would Dean go with him? Or, really, the better question was- would he want to go with him?

As crazy as it may sound, Dean had actually made friends at Sonny’s. Well, one close friend, but Jason and Braeden were decent. They kept to themselves, giving Dean the space he needed, when he needed it most. He had very specific expectations when it came to his personal space, and anyone who respected that was definitely a friend of his.

Plus, neither of them seemed to notice Dean’s… strange relationship with Cas. When the two boys would emerge from a closet or the bathroom, hair tousled, lips red and swollen, Jason didn’t even spare them a glance and Braeden seemed genuinely naïve about the whole thing. The poor kid probably didn’t have the slightest clue what a person looked like post-kiss. He didn’t look like the kind that had to fight off crowds of pining girls; the likelihood that not a single pair of lips had ever touched his own was sad and yet probable.

Dean sighed heavily and turned to watch Castiel as he struggled with his disheveled comforter. His nimble fingers arranged everything precisely, a habit that didn’t surprise the young hunter in the least. Everything the other boy did was exact, arranged with an impressive attention to detail, from the way he folded his clothes to the way he ate a meal.

The hunter continued to watch, entranced, until the sound of Sonny’s exasperated voice echoed through the hallway. “Boys! Come on in here!”

Castiel froze, fingers gripping the edge of the comforter. Wide-eyed, he glanced over at Dean and titled his head in confusion. Dean smiled fondly at the gesture and motioned for the boy to follow him, nodding towards the doorway.

The two entered the living room and settled into the nearest chairs, sandwiched between Jason and Braeden. The kitchen wasn’t as large as it probably should be. It only allowed room for one table, which easily filled the entire space, leaving little to no room for cooking. As they walked in, the rest of the group sat nervously around the sole table in the kitchen, every boy fidgeting anxiously, hesitantly glancing at Sonny every few seconds. Dean also glimpsed at the older man, regarding him with caution. They rarely had gatherings like this at such an early hour.

“Alright, boys, now that we’re all here,” Sonny began, leaning forward, and met the gaze of each seated boy before continuing.  “I thought I’d give you all some good news.”

Well, that was unexpected. Castiel appeared to have the same reaction. The same nimble fingers that carefully folded comforters and blankets wrapped around Dean’s wrist and squeezed gently. Dean flashed the younger boy a quick smile and repeated the same movement, hoping to reassure Cas with the skin contact’s familiarity.

“We’re heading out to the carnival in twenty minutes,” Sonny trilled excitedly. Like every other boy at the table, Dean gaped openly at the older man’s statement.  What? It had to be some sort of trick. Maybe an April Fool’s prank? It was the middle of the Summer, sure, but it was still possible.

Sonny simply rolled his eyes, as if sensing the crazy theories developing in the seated boys’ heads, and rose to his feet. “Well, c’mon now. Go get ready! When I say twenty minutes, I mean twenty minutes!”

The harsh sound of chair legs scraping against hardwood filled the tiny room. Dean winced and spun to face Cas, curious about the younger boy’s feelings on the matter. He had never been to a carnival, but Cas, being the son of a wealthy and tight-knit family, had likely been to several over the course of his life.

However, when he met Castiel’s piercing blue stare, the boy appeared to be just as confused as he’d been before Sonny’s announcement. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly and effectively silenced by Jason’s delighted laughter as he strut over and grabbed both boys’ hands.

“You heard the man! Get your asses ready!” Without waiting for consent, the shorter boy pulled them along behind him. Dean rolled his eyes and begrudgingly obeyed. Beside him, Castiel chuckled softly under his breath.

God, Dean loved the sound of his friend’s laughter. It reminded him of the few moments of peace he managed to have with Sam before heading out on a hunt. It reminded him of the silly games he and his brother concocted when they were bored in yet another seedy motel room in the middle of nowhere. It reminded him of the few family dinners they managed to have while out on the road. It reminded him of home.

*

The carnival, to Dean’s delight, surpassed many of his expectations. The heavenly scent of funnel cakes, cotton candy, and hot dogs filled the air, causing the young hunter’s mouth to water in anticipation. Every ride, from the unassuming teacups to the towering Ferris Wheel, was covered in bright, glittering lights, illuminating the many excited faces of the visitors. Rows of game booths lined the dirt pathway that winded its way through the carnival, each with its own set of stuffed prizes and its own game, just waiting to cheat some poor kid out of a few bucks. The setup probably seemed fairly standard to everyone else, but, to Dean, it promised a brief glimpse into the life of a normal teenage boy- the life that he secretly wanted and yet had already determined he could never have.

He inhaled the carnival’s heady odor once more and then turned to face his tiny group of friends. By this point, it really shouldn’t have surprised Dean when Jason and Braeden quickly scurried after a group of girls the first chance they got. They had likely been at the carnival for a mere ten minutes before the small group of girls had approached them. The second the two pathetically hormonal boys had spotted the long, wavy hair and heard the excited, high-pitched giggling, they were off, trailing behind the random girls like mindless robots.

On the bright side, their one-track minds left Dean and Cas alone. It had been a few days since the two boys had truly had the chance to spend quality time together without the interference of close-minded roommates who would never understand their relationship.

Of course, neither of them knew how to define their relationship either. If someone were to ask, they would just stare at them dumbly, with no semblance of an explanation whatsoever. The moment Dean thought he knew what was going on, Cas would bring his hand up to the nape of his neck, fingers hesitantly carding through the short strands of hair there, peering at him from beneath long dark lashes with a curious glint in his wide blue eyes, and everything he thought he understood suddenly made no sense. It was ever changing. After several weeks of their secret make out sessions, Dean decided to just call Castiel a “close friend” and leave it at that before things became too complicated.

Now, as they stood watching the two traitorous boys run off, Cas casually intertwined their fingers, and Dean had a sinking feeling that he would have to redefine his relationship with the younger boy yet again.

“Where should we go first?” Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand and turned, brandishing one of the dazzling smiles that usually made Dean weak in the knees.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never actually, uh… been to one of these before,” Dean admitted. The steady heat of a flush creeping up his neck, spreading across his cheeks, forced him to turn away. Cas would surely make fun of him. Who the fuck didn’t go to carnivals as a kid?

“That’s quite alright. I’ve never been to one either,” Castiel seconded. Dean was surprised his jaw didn’t hit the ground. 

“What? I can’t believe your parents never… I mean, wouldn’t their church host things like this?” Dean turned in a circle, tugging Cas along with him, as he swung his arm out and gestured at the entirety of the little carnival. “We were staying in a mo- friend’s house one time, and I swear this local Baptist church threw some big celebration around Easter.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “I’m afraid my mother and father were never a part of a parish such as the one you have described, Dean. Their… our parish, I suppose, regarded extravagant events like that as sinful.” The disgust in the younger boy’s voice sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. Negativity and pain didn’t belong anywhere near someone as innocent and genuinely kind as Cas.

“That sucks. My dad never had the time to take me to things like this. Hell, we didn’t really do anything ‘fun’. No Winchester Family Fun Nights for us.” Dean snorted and turned his attention toward a nearby game table. He hated appearing vulnerable, especially in front of Castiel who seemed to regard him as a source of strength.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas insisted, squeezing the young hunter’s hand once again. “I wish that your relationship with your father were different. You deserve to be-“

“Hey, let’s go win some big-ass prize and rub it in Jason and Braeden’s ugly faces,” Dean interrupted gruffly. Without waiting for Castiel’s approval, he dragged the younger boy along as he rushed towards the game booth he’d just spotted.

As they approached, Dean almost reconsidered. The man behind the counter immediately set him on edge. His striped shirt was covered in food stains and the armpits were soaked with sweat. The scraggly strands of hair on top of his head had clearly never been under a showerhead before and the hairs on his chin didn’t fare any better. To make matters even worse, a glimpse at his smile proved that the dentist quaked in fear whenever the poor guy walked in for a checkup- if he even went in for checkups. To be honest, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the guy had walked straight out of a horror film.

He grinned when he saw the two boys heading his way. Unconsciously, Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s hand. The man would be lying flat on the ground with a knife at his throat before he even took a step in Cas’s direction.

“Hey, boys,” the man croaked, fiddling with a wad of cash stowed in the ratty fanny pack around his waist. “You wanna play?”

Although Dean had never been to a carnival before, he’d watched enough television to recognize the game. Behind the man stood three sets of pins, all arranged in a triangular formation. The entire back wall was covered in a variety of stuffed animals, of varying sizes and colors. Dean glanced over and nearly gasped out loud. Castiel was openly gaping at the display, skimming over the plethora of stuffed creatures, staring at the prizes as if they held all of the answers to the universe’s burning questions.

Dean couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked like that, gazing up with childish amazement in his eyes. The oversized navy shirt hanging from the younger boy’s shoulders and the worn canvas sneakers on his feet suddenly seemed even larger than before, as if Castiel had raided his father’s closet. Fragile, delicate, something to be treasured…

“Yes.” Dean jumped, caught off guard by the younger boy’s sudden breathy outburst. He had completely zoned out. Fucking fantastic.

“Alright, well, here’s whatcha do,” the man sighed, lifting a softball out of a hidden basket by his feet. He continued to explain the rules of the game, and Castiel continued to watch with obvious excitement. And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Dean continued to observe his friend and struggled to ignore the unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach after each soft smile lit up the younger boy’s face.

*

In the midst of all of the chaos and- surprisingly- fun, Dean had completely forgotten the reason the group of boys had been brought to the carnival in the first place: the fourth of July.

The celebration had always passed without any incident when he’d been with Sam and his father. They would acknowledge with a quick passing, “Happy fourth,” but that was about it. His dad may have a few beers late at night and offer Sam and Dean a couple sips, but, really, nothing exciting ever happened.

So, of course, when Dean is tossed into a group that actively celebrates the holiday, he doesn’t quite know how to handle it. The carnival was a welcome distraction from memories of his past celebrations, ones that were nothing out of the ordinary. If he had been stuck back at the home all day- even with Cas by his side - he would’ve torn out every single strand of hair on his head by nightfall.

Here, surrounded by the bright lights and delightful laughter of a content crowd of raucous people, he found it easy to forget about everything. He forgot about the terms he had been on with his father when he left. He forgot about how Sammy likely felt about his absence. He forgot about the strange nature of he and Castiel’s relationship. Well, he at least tried to forget about the last thing. It was hard when the boy in question kept flashing him delighted, childlike grins.

As if on cue, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed. The young hunter turned, and, for what felt like the thousandth time that night, found himself in awe of his best friend.

The huge stuffed bear staring back at Dean seemed dangerously close to falling out of Castiel’s grasp at any moment now that he only held it with one thin arm. The words “beary cute” were embroidered in pink, swirling font on the bear’s tan stomach, and the phrase certainly applied to the boy holding the oversized prize. In typical fashion, to make Dean’s situation even worse, the sheer size of the bear kept causing Cas’s shirt to ride up, which certainly wasn’t an easy feat based on the ridiculous size of the damn thing. And yet there it was, a tiny sliver of pale skin, just begging to be touched.

“Hey, let’s go watch the fireworks,” Castiel giggled excitedly. That’s right- he fucking giggled.  Dean was going straight to hell.

“Sure, why the hell not?” Dean shrugged and reluctantly released Cas’s hand. He couldn’t have the wrong person see their clasped hands and make crazy assumptions. The worst case scenario would be one of his father’s hunting friends, out and about, spotting the oldest Winchester boy with a… oh fuck. Yep, if anyone were to see the two boys walking along, holding hands, they would definitely assume they were a couple.

As he disentangled their fingers, Dean didn’t miss the flash of pain on Castiel’s face, although he wished he had. It was as if he’d slapped the poor kid across the face or something. Betrayal and guilt tainted his usually sweet and innocent features. Dean couldn’t possibly make eye contact with that kind of expression looking back at him.

The rest of their walk to the top of the hill where the fireworks would be visible passed in silence. They quietly wedged themselves between two couples, both of which seemed unaffected by the boys beside them. Neither couple appeared to be too handsy or preoccupied with PDA either so the decision was unanimous.

The entire hillside was covered in small groups of people stretched out on blankets, peering up at the sky above in anticipation. It didn’t take long for Dean to spot Jason and Braeden several rows over, cuddled up with the group of girls they’d originally run off with. They looked happy and probably could care less where Dean and Cas had gone.

Content that no one was searching for them, Dean settled into the grass. Castiel hesitated at first, but slowly lowered himself to the ground. It didn’t surprise the hunter when the younger boy cautiously inched closer, crossed legs brushing against his own outstretched ones. Although Dean never asked, Cas instantly searched for Dean’s hand and tucked their intertwined fingers in the hidden space between them.

And, even though the gesture was clearly intended to placate Dean, it instead made him feel like the biggest jackass on the face of the Earth. Castiel was a smart kid. When he had tugged his hand away earlier, the younger boy had looked devastated. But, the silence had given him the opportunity to think everything over. It hadn’t taken much thought to put two and two together and come up with the simple solution: Dean Winchester’s Sexual Identity Crisis.  

“Cas-“

“No, listen, it’s fine,” Castiel interjected, eyes wide and imploring. Dean knew how much the other boy loathed conflict. Once, while they were alone in their room one night, Cas had confessed that he hated the very idea of a fight after the numerous times he’d had to listen to raised voices and watch furniture careen through the air as a child. It explained the terror in his eyes whenever Sonny had to scold one of the other boys in front of him.

“Dammit, Cas, no. It’s definitely not fine,” Dean snarled, shaking his head. He wasn’t mad at Cas- he was mad at himself. “I’m being an idiot. I just, um… I’m worried about one of my dad’s friends seeing us and… getting the wrong idea. You know what I mean?”

Castiel’s reaction surprised Dean. He was expecting something similar to the calm and persistent attempts at avoiding a fight from earlier. But that’s not what he got.

The younger boy stiffened and moved a little out of Dean’s personal space. The move was subtle, only a few inches or so, but Dean noticed the lack of body heat quite quickly. Castiel didn’t produce much heat anyway because he was considerably smaller than Dean, thinner and more bony, but the hunter had become accustomed to the comforting sensation that came along with their closeness. The relief he always drew from Castiel’s proximity was nowhere to be found.

“Yes, yes. You are quite right. We would not want anyone to think we are anything more than friends.” Each word stabbed through Dean’s chest, eating away at the little bit of doubt he’d had in regards to being more public about he and Castiel’s odd relationship. He couldn’t bear to see hurt on the younger boy’s kind face.

Unsure of what words would fix the problem, Dean simply tightened his grip on Castiel’s hand and scooted closer. Cas glanced over at him, anxiety emanating from his small frame, and furrowed his brow. Confusion’s better than sadness, Dean speculated bitterly.

He allowed a soft smile to tip up the corners of his lips and, silently, he brought his other hand up to the back of Castiel’s head. The confusion on the younger boy’s face slowly changed to pleasant surprise. He leaned back slightly into the touch, just as Dean had planned, and let out a tiny contented sigh.

Again, without a single word, Dean coaxed Castiel closer. The younger boy slowly stretched out his legs and lowered his head onto the hunter’s chest. He chucked softly against Dean’s chest and nuzzled his way up to the other boy’s jaw, his tousled hair tickling the sensitive skin under the hunter’s chin. Dean couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Look!” The woman off to their left cried, pointing up at the sky with delight.

Dean and Cas both tilted their heads up, watching as a dazzling display of gold and red filled the night sky. The ecstatic faces of the onlookers were illuminated by the brilliant spectacle. Deciding that he could at least handle one glance in Castiel’s direction, Dean quickly peeked at the boy beside him.

It was as if they hadn’t fought at all. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from those beautiful blue eyes, peering up with childish amazement, a delighted glint as another firework burst into sparkling strings of purple and silver above them. The lips Dean had become quite acquainted with over the past few weeks were stretched back to reveal a dazzling smile, one that seemed far too genuine for a boy who had been sent away to a home for delinquent boys. As he watched, fascinated by the excitement on his best friend’s face, Dean couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Cas had done to end up here, trapped in a house with boys who had had encounters with the cops, for God’s sake. Such a sweet face didn’t belong lumped in with a group like that.

Then, a sad realization hit him. Dean hadn’t even grasped the fact that the idea was something he had been consciously avoiding. But, with Castiel’s head tucked beneath his chin, light occasionally revealing the younger boy’s pleased expression, Dean knew one thing.

He would never be good enough for Cas. Someone like that deserved more than the typical hunter’s lifestyle. He deserved nothing less than a long, happy life with a gorgeous wife and a handful of adorable children.

Of all times, Castiel thought with a heavy sigh.

As a student at one of the most prestigious boarding schools on the East Coast, he didn’t see his family often. They tried to keep in touch, of course, but their dedication to the church left with them very little time to devote to their son a few hundred miles away. He might get a call once a week- if that- and that seemed to suffice. But Christmas time? That was the exception.

Around the holidays, his family expected him to come home and spend his two weeks off with them. It usually involved a great deal of snotty parties, occasions that required Cas to dress up and put on a fake smile as he greeted people he only knew because of his parents. Half of them could care less about the Milton’s son, the one who had been shipped off to boarding school like every other Milton child. He was just another Milton kid in everyone’s eyes. Hell, most of them called him by his brother, Gabriel’s name even though they looked nothing alike.

In addition to the stifling and strictly religious rituals his family adhered to, the way they acted when they were all stuck in the same house made matters worse. To be perfectly honest, just about every member of his messed up family hated each other for one reason or another. All of Castiel’s siblings loathed their father, something he still couldn’t bring himself to do. Michael and Lucifer were sworn enemies, and Gabriel was notorious for finding a way to piss at least one of them off within the first fifteen minutes that everyone arrived at the Milton mansion (or Milton Castle, as many people had dubbed it).

So, of course, Castiel dreaded going home. The chance to escape from his predominantly snooty classmates certainly held an appeal, but the fighting and brown-nosing he had to suffer through back in Illinois was nearly- if not more, sometimes- as unbearable.

And yet they still expected him to fly in. Cas could only imagine how his mother, the most sensible relative he had left, felt right now. She was probably pacing the length of their huge kitchen, filling the room with the comforting and familiar click of her heels striking the marble tiles. Castiel smirked and shook his head. He could never quite understand why she’d chosen to marry his father instead of someone a little more compassionate. But, they were both extremely religious, which was hard to find in today’s world.

Instead of being there, though, he was here, sitting in an airport terminal with about forty other frustrated fliers. The number of people was subject to change considering the fact that the flight may not be able to take off until the next morning. Castiel had to admit that he was surprised by the amount of people who had already left, cursing under their breath about “fucking airlines” and “this godforsaken weather, I swear” as they shuffled out of the room and back to their cars.

Castiel had considered stretching out on the chairs, lying down on the somewhat comfortable blue cushions, and taking a much-needed nap. He hadn’t slept a lot recently since his roommate, Bart, had turned 18. For some reason, every boy in his hallway had mistaken the number for 21 and had been showing up to he and Bart’s room with any alcohol they could find at least three days a week. Cas wasn’t a prude- the last thing he wanted to do is be anything like the snobs back in Illinois he despised- but the loud, drunken slurring and horridly off-key karaoke made it difficult to sleep. He would gladly settle for a decent nap while he waited.

But something had caught his eye. A boy who appeared to be around his age, dressed in a red plaid shirt, jeans, and boots, was staring at Castiel from the other side of the room. His wide, forest green eyes focused on Cas as if he were the only other person in the room. A crooked smirk settled on his lips, a gesture that seemed fairly ordinary, like it belonged on the boy’s face. He was leaning his head against the wall behind him, using a worn-looking leather jacket as a pillow. The stare was somewhat predatory and yet still appeared gentle and kind, a hint of warmth that made Castiel shift nervously in his seat.

If he were as outgoing as any one of his siblings, he would’ve already walked over and asked the guy if he wanted to take a picture so it would last longer. Oh yes, that certainly sounded like something Gabriel or Lucifer or, hell, Anna would say if they were in the same situation. Cas wasn’t them, though, and the idea of addressing the other boy made him far more nervous than it probably should.

Instead, he glanced down at his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. He couldn’t think of anywhere else to look. Of course, even looking down, he could still feel the boy’s stare burning holes in the top of his head.

This was crazy. If he sat like this for much longer, he would go insane. After living in a household for several years with people who couldn’t stand to even be in the same room as one another, Cas had learned to hate tension. The tension wasn’t exactly the same, but it made him incredibly comfortable nevertheless.

“It sucks, huh?”

Castiel jumped, limbs flailing. Oh God. Hesitantly, he raised his head and peered at the same cocky smirk he had glimpsed earlier. The boy appeared to be a few inches taller than Cas with a stockier build, graced with the broad shoulders and chest that he had always secretly wanted. His waist, however, seemed trim and most of his height appeared to come from his legs.

“Uh- I’m sorry?” Cas blurted, clearing his throat nervously. He shouldn’t be nervous- he really shouldn’t. Some random guy in an airport terminal should not make him feel this anxious.

As if completely oblivious to Castiel’s discomfort, the boy threw himself down into the seat beside him. He crossed his legs and leaned back, eyes fluttering shut, a small smile on his lips. Cas scoffed, turning away to hide his quickly reddening cheeks. It was clear that the boy wasn’t used to being ignored. He was certainly making himself comfortable- as if he intended to stay right there with Castiel.

“This weather. It’s a real bitch,” the boy sighed and reluctantly straightened back up again, turning to face his uncomfortable new companion. “Of course, the only reason I want to get home is to see my brother. I haven’t seen the damn kid for two weeks, but it feels like it’s been months. You know?”

No, I actually don’t know, Castiel thought bitterly. He didn’t voice his thoughts, though, in hopes that his silence would scare the other boy away.

“Okay, well, whatever,” he chuckled, “you don’t have to talk to me. I’ll just sit here and do all the talking if I have to. Sitting here all night without talking someone’s ear off will drive me nuts so…”

Castiel bit his lip in frustration. He completely understood where the other boy was coming from. He would love to have someone to unload all of his troubles onto. He would give anything to find a trustworthy person that would sit and quietly listen to all of his petty issues. No one ever wanted to at school, and Cas didn’t feel as if he could confide in any of them anyway.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” the boy- Dean- carried on, unfazed by Castiel’s stubborn and somewhat childish behavior. His smile never faded despite Cas’s silence- it actually seemed to grow wider. From the set of his shoulders and the light, carefree tone of his voice, he clearly enjoyed a challenge and would refuse to back down from an obstinate boarding school student.

The name, for some strange reason, fit the boy perfectly. Castiel had never met a “Dean” before and yet somehow he couldn’t think of another suitable name for his persistent new acquaintance.

“Oh c’mon,” Dean chuckled, teasingly nudging Cas with his elbow, “you can at least tell me your name! Admit it: sitting here all night with no one to talk to will suck ass.” He leaned closer as he said the last couple words, causing Castiel to jump, his legs kicking out. Dean, being the gentleman he was, began to laugh even harder.

The son of a bitch had a point. Fate had finally thrown him a bone, providing him with someone that would listen to all of his problems, someone who he would likely never encounter again, someone that wouldn’t spill any of his secrets because he had no one to tell. And so what if Fate had chosen Dean as that someone?

Reluctantly, Castiel turned in his seat. As he’d expected, Dean was grinning like the Cheshire cat, a wicked glint in his forest green eyes. The smell of leather and aftershave lingered on his skin, a detail that Cas couldn’t help but notice as he first made eye contact with the other boy and scooted a couple inches closer to him. Surprisingly, at this distance, Dean’s demeanor didn’t appear predatory or ominous like he’d originally thought.

“Ah, there we go,” Dean trilled, holding his hand out for Castiel to shake, “put her there!”

Castiel stared down at the other boy’s hand as if he didn’t quite know what it was, still unsure about the whole situation. Dean had to have another motivation for initiating Cas in conversation, and it definitely wasn’t alleviating any of his concern.

Hesitantly, Cas reached out and grasped Dean’s hand, pleasantly surprised to find that the other boy had a firm handshake. His father had always told him that you could tell a lot about another person from the way they shook hands.

“Yeah, I don’t bite,” Dean insisted jokingly.

“One can never be sure,” Castiel replied, voice cracking. He silently kicked himself. He needed to sound confident, not like a jittery middle school boy.

“Hm, I guess,” Dean agreed with a shrug. He leaned back, casually resting his left arm along the back of Castiel’s chair. Cas tried not to flinch as said arm slid into place and briefly brushed against his shoulders. “Can you at least trust me with your name? I gave you mine after all.”

Cas rolled his eyes, unable to hold back a smile for any longer. “Does it really matter? We can still talk without having to know each other’s names.”

“It’s polite. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

Castiel’s sighed and rolled his eyes once again. He figured it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be doing so. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, “I’m Castiel. Or-“

“Yeah, I’m gonna call you Cas,” Dean interjected, catching Castiel off-guard yet again by finishing his train of thought, “you look more like a Cas to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I’ve never met a ‘Cas’ before, but you just… I don’t know,” Dean admitted. It was exactly the same thing Castiel had thought about Dean’s name earlier… okay, this was getting weirder and weirder by the second.

“Well, I’ve never met a ‘Dean’ before either so I guess we’re even,” Castiel agreed with a little nod.

“I’m probably the best ‘Dean’ out there. Consider yourself lucky,” Dean replied cheekily, smirking mischievously. He nudged Castiel’s knee playfully with his own and chuckled softly.

“Okay, Mr. Perfect,” Cas countered, crossing his arms defiantly, “what is so important that you had to come over here and interrupt my moment of peace, huh? You obviously have something you want to get off your chest.”

Dean snorted, a gesture that would’ve been embarrassing or unpleasant if it were anyone else. “You caught me,” he admitted, “I do have a lot on my mind. But, to be honest? I kind of wanted to hear what’s bothering you first.”

What?

“Me?” Castiel squeaked. How could Dean possibly care about what he had to say? He wasn’t anything special, and his troubles were probably less important than the other boy’s. Well, that and the fact that they had just met a few minutes ago.

“Yes, you,” Dean chuckled, sending a shiver down Cas’s spine. He shifted a little closer and moved his arm from the back of Castiel’s seat so that it could comfortably rest on his shoulders. He squeezed gently with the intent to make the other boy feel better. Of course, he had no idea that the contact only worsened his new friend’s anxiety.

“I want to know why you look so damn jumpy. It’s like you need to get home or someone will kick your ass,” Dean explained, surprising Castiel with his perceptiveness. “So, spill. And don’t give me that ‘it’s a long story’ bullshit because we definitely have enough time.”

Cas wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, Dean seemed genuinely concerned about his problems. But, on the other hand, he was a stranger and Castiel knew better than to confide in people he’d just met. As a stranger, though, Dean would have completely unbiased opinions on the matter and, if he were truly lucky, would sit back and simply listen to everything without any unnecessary or crude commentary. It was a nice change from the brief attention he was reluctantly given when he attempted to talk to one of his classmates.

“I… fine,” Castiel sighed, “as long as you promise not to be an ass about anything.”

“I won’t,” Dean promised, fixing Cas with an intense and penetrating stare, silently begging for trust. There was something about that look. It had been a while since Castiel had seen someone gaze at him the way Dean now was. He wasn’t used to anyone actually caring about what he had to say. No one gave a damn about his opinions or his problems. And, admittedly, it was nice knowing that there was someone out there who took an interest in him for once.

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. He didn’t even know where to begin. The biggest thing on his mind at that moment had to be his family and how they would react when he told them he didn’t want to apply to Harvard like they’d planned. The scenario continuously played out in his imagination throughout the course of the day, repeating itself continuously.

“Well, let’s just say that my family is… different.”

Roughly an hour later, after Castiel had discussed everything that had been bothering him for the past year, the two sat in comfortable silence. As he had hoped, Dean had sat and listened attentively to every little detail, proving that he was paying attention by nodding his head every now and then and mumbling soft noises of approval throughout the course of Castiel’s explanation.

Cas felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. The last time he had ever felt this good was before he had left for boarding school. Back when he was in grade school, his parents were more willing to listen to his troubles considering that they were the simple struggles of an eight or nine year old boy. Once puberty struck, they wanted nothing to do with him when it came to personal issues. They claimed that they loved him, of course, but they refused to take the time to just sit and listen.

Poor Dean had been forced to listen to all of it. He was considerably patient and polite for someone his age.

“Wow,” Dean mumbled softly, shaking his head, “that’s… something else. My problems are, um, pretty different, I guess.”

Castiel had figured as much. He still had yet to meet someone who understood what it was like to be shoved to the side by their parents. He knew that he wasn’t the only one, but his kind certainly seemed to be few and far between.

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning back to rest his neck against Dean’s arm. Over the course of their conversation, Castiel’s anxiety and doubts about the other boy had faded away. He felt surprisingly comfortable in Dean’s presence now.

“I mean, I do understand the whole school thing, though,” Dean countered, “I keep dropping out of high school and my dad is not really having it.”

Cas’s eyes widened. “What? As in…”

“As in I don’t fucking need a high school education for what I want to do in the future,” the other boy growled, his lips twisting into a frustrated scowl as he spoke, “I don’t need to know how to do algebra if all I want to do is… well, I just won’t need any of that shit in the future.”

Well, this was new. There were students at Castiel’s school who didn’t exactly enjoy school and didn’t put any stock into their education, going through the motions because they were obligated to do so, but they never actually dropped out. Drop outs had a certain reputation on campus. When students spoke about them, it was in hurried and hushed whispers, in heated and disappointed discussions. They certainly were not admired for their rebelliousness.

And yet Dean seemed to feel very strongly about his decision. His smile and bright, joyful gaze were nowhere to be seen, hidden behind the furious façade of a boy who had clearly given up on society. Again, Castiel was not a prude by any means, but dropping out of high school seemed rather… drastic to him.

“I… I don’t understand,” Castiel admitted, carefully choosing his next words, “what would you like to do as a career? I don’t mean to be rude or anything. I just… I find it hard to believe that there is a profession that doesn’t require a high school education.”

Dean froze. His arm stiffened and his entire demeanor changed. It only took a few simple words and Dean had transformed from the warm and personable teenage boy who eagerly agreed to listen to others’ problems to a cold and saddened hollow shell who shied away from the idea of social interactions. The change happened so quickly that Castiel couldn’t possibly pinpoint the moment it happened. One second, passion filled his gaze and, the next, his eyes became the lifeless eyes of a corpse.

“I’m… Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“No, that’s a good question,” Dean whispered, voice laced with pain and frustration. Castiel cringed, unaccustomed to the disheartened tone. “And I can’t tell you exactly what I want to be. I wish I could, but you’re better off not knowing.”

Castiel didn’t think so. His curiosity was killing him, begging him to ask until he got a straight answer. But there are things you wouldn’t tell him. He never forced you to reveal what you didn’t want to, his conscious reminded him gently.

“Oh. Um, okay,” Castiel replied dumbly, unable to come up with a better response.

And then the silence returned. This time, however, it felt far less comfortable, weighing down on both boys’ shoulders.

Dean peered off into the distance, staring at God-knew-what, while Castiel stared down at his fidgeting hands. There was something he needed to do and yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The other boy was in dire need of something Castiel wasn’t quite sure he could give.

But there was one thing he could do, no matter how simple and mundane it may seem.

Without a second thought, Castiel turned and threw his arms around Dean, pulling him in against his chest, tucking the other boy’s head underneath his chin. Dean gasped, surprised by the gesture of kindness, and remained unyielding at first. Cas squeezed a little tighter and began trailing his right hand slowly up and down the other boy’s back, lingering on the space between his shoulder blades with shaky fingers.

Castiel was not a big fan of hugs. The contact always made him uncomfortable, as if he were being crushed and smothered. But this hug was unlike any he’d ever experienced before. He generally found himself on the receiving end and yet he had been the one to make the first move in this instance, trapping Dean in the warm circle of his embrace.

The other boy slowly melted into his touch, breathing steadily against the small patch of exposed skin near Castiel’s collarbone. He brought his arms up and snaked them carefully around Cas’s waist, gripping the soft fabric of the boy’s sweater as if he were afraid he may slip away at any moment. For Castiel, the gesture was one of kindness and sympathy, but, for Dean, it appeared to be one of desperation and necessity.

“Hey, it’ll all work out,” Castiel assured Dean, tilting his head down, burying his nose in the other boy’s hair. He breathed in the same clean scent he had noticed earlier, closing his eyes, allowing the scent to wash over and calm him.

“I sure as hell hope so, Cas,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s skin, nuzzling into the other boy’s chest, and pulled himself even closer.

Castiel sighed and reopened his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “yeah, me too.”

The sky seemed especially blue today, absolutely striking against the white wisps of clouds. In the distance, the radiant light of the sun tinted the clouds with its splendor, brightening everything in its wake.

Castiel had always been captivated by the sky. The vastness of it all held so much promise, tempting him with its possibilities of the unknown, the potential for exploration and adventure. As someone with little to no affinity for adventure, Cas speculated about space from the safety of his own home, finding his own escape between the pages of a novel.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind at the moment. No, not at all.

Every few seconds, he couldn’t help but reach into his jacket pocket and retrieve the small slip of paper he’d been given at the airport terminal. The ink had smeared somewhat but the message and phone number were still completely legible.

If you ever need someone to talk to about those pricks you call family, remember that I’m here. I won’t judge. But you already knew that, didn’t you?  

Give em hell.

-Dean