Shadowfeet Chapter 2/3
Title: Shadowfeet
Author: babygatsby
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Destiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Destiel AU, poor knowledge of Catholicism, sexual situations, disturbing elements (unexplicit exorcism/torture)
Word Count: ~15,000, complete
Summary: Dean Winchester is a seminarian studying abroad in the ancient yet beautifully stunning city of the Vatican. Alone and underestimated, he befriends Castiel, a local Italian priest, and through each other they discover love and closure they have never experienced before.
Chapter One
Shadowfeet Chapter Two
"Hey, mom? I-is Sammy there?...No I just really need to talk to him about...something…"
Dean hovered anxiously in front of the phone booth, glancing around conspicuously while trying to fight back tears. He didn't know why he was calling his brother, honestly, what was he going to tell him?
'Oh hey, Sammy, by the way…You remember that priest that was with me? Yeah, I kinda fell in love with him and almost corrupted the most religiously pure man I have ever met. So yeah, in a nutshell, I'm fucked.'
Yeah, he really saw that going well. Sam might've have been close with him, but if he told him within the same conversation that he had somehow found out he was gay, and gay for a priest for that matter…Dean didn't know how Sam would react. He certainly didn't think it would be a positive reaction.
Truth was, he didn't have anyone else to talk to, and he belatedly realized when he heard scuffling of the phone switching hands on the other line that Castiel would be the one he would talk to in a situation like this. That hurt him in more ways than he would care to admit.
"Hey, what's up Dean?"
"Hey Sammy…you got a minute? Well, a lot of minutes?"
"Um…yeah? Dean…what's this about?"
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his sleep deprived face.
"Sammy, I-I've done something bad."
"How bad." Sam instantly jumped on the offensive, his voice sharp in his pre-lawyer way.
"Look, it's not like I killed anyone, you can relax." Dean chuckled uneasily.
Sam sighed on the other end, the sound transmuting into a grainy hiss in Dean's ear.
"Why are you calling me, man? You get some chick knocked up?"
"Okay, would you listen to me Sammy? This is just going to be hard, okay? And I need you to listen to me, all the way to the end. Even if you don't like it, clear?"
"Got it, Dean…" Sam sighed again, and Dean could almost picture his brows furrowing in consternation before, "so what happened?"
"You remember Castiel?"
"Of course I remember Cas, you never stop talking about him."
"I've kinda…I've kinda done something bad to him Sammy." Dean whispered.
"Damn it, Dean, stop beating around the bush! What. Did. You. Do?"
"I fell in love with him, God damn it!" Dean shouted hoarsely, startling his audience of pigeons and caused them to fly off toward the surrounding trees. Sam didn't respond, but Dean could still hear him breathing.
"Damn it Sammy, say something."
"Something."
"Sam!"
"Well, c'mon Dean! What do you expect me to say? Golly gee, Dean! That's incredible, did y'all do the nasty yet?"
Sam was lucky Dean understood his particular brand of sarcasm or he would have been screaming into the receiver at that point.
"Besides, what the heck am I supposed to do? Fly out there and hold your hand while you confess your undying love like some kindergartener? No thanks, plane tickets are expensive."
"It kinda already happened."
"No shit…" Sam breathed, and Dean could tell he wasn't being facetious.
"It didn't really…go as I planned."
"Dean, is this why you're calling?"
"No shit, Sherlock! Who else am I supposed to call?" Dean choked a little before continuing, "I have no one else, Sammy…"
"Dean…are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay! I'm peachy, actually! I have no friends now, I've been living with Cas so I gave up my room at the seminary, I barely have any money, and can barely speak passable Italian! How do you think I am?"
The line went silent again, but Dean could hear clicking in the background.
"Sammy what're you doing?"
"I'm buying a ticket for the next flight to Rome. I expect you to be there when I arrive."
"C'mon man, don't do this…"
"I don't have a choice, Dean. You practically just told me you have nowhere else to go. You're like a hobo now, face facts. I'm coming to get you, I'm taking you home."
"No! I'm staying-"
"Dean, don't try and fool me. You know the only reason why you've been going to those classes and actually enjoying them is 'cause Cas was there, am I right?"
Dean paused at that. Was Sam right? It was true in a certain sense. Dean would not accept exorcism and that was the truth, never would. So why was he here? Why did he go to all of those extra classes? He didn't need to learn about the history of exorcism, he didn't need to learn about the origins of Catholicism, and he certainly didn't need to learn about history's greatest popes. And ever since that last fateful conversation with Cas, he hadn't returned to the seminary. The answer was right in front of him the whole time.
It was Cas.
"Sammy…" Dean whined, feeling the bitter sting of tears as they refused to fall.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm coming for you, just hang on okay?"
Dean nodded stupidly before sputtering out a timid reply, barely catching Sam's flight time before replacing the phone.
What was he going to do until then?
________________________________________
"Cassie? Come on, Cassie open the door." Balthazar pleaded from outside Castiel's ever locked door.
"Go away, please," came the muffled reply.
"I certainly will not, not until you come out here and eat something. At least tell me what's wrong!"
Balthazar heard shuffling and a few thuds before the door was finally opened a fraction of an inch, revealing a single, red rimmed eye and a hint of mussed up hair.
"I said go away, please." Castiel's voice had hitched an octave lower, hoarse from expressing his sorrow to God, or whoever else was supposed to be listening to a half deranged priest.
"Castiel…" Balthazar breathed, stepping back slightly before his face hardened, shouldering his way into the room before the slighter man inside could stop him.
"Stop," he commanded, watching as Castiel flinched where he stood. "Stop this immediately. I will not tolerate such…such foolishness in my home!"
Balthazar grabbed his younger brother's arm, dragging him from the room to the kitchens.
"First we're going to get you something to eat, you haven't left that room in days and I can't imagine you the type to stash away goodies. Then we're going to clean you up, you reek."
Castiel shoved him off, glaring at him in a way Balthazar hadn't dreamt him capable of achieving.
"Don't pretend like you suddenly care for me. You never did. Why now? Do you see this as some…some sort of game? This isn't funny, Balthazar, this is no trick. I am not some sort of hormonal teenager who locks herself in her room after a big fight with her bfff, or whatever they're called…"
Balthazar's eyebrows inched higher and higher during Castiel's tirade, and he couldn't hold back a laugh at his brother's somewhat failed analogy.
"Cassie…that's exactly what you're doing though, aren't you?"
Castiel's glare changed from hateful to quizzical in the blink of an eye, and yet still cautious.
"You got in a little fight with your American boy-toy and you don't know how to handle it." Balthazar stated, rather smugly too, which didn't help Castiel's mood whatsoever.
"Think what you want, Balthazar, but that isn't what happened. And Dean is no 'boy-toy', he's-"
"Oh really? Well, Dean left in a hurry, didn't he? Why else would he storm through the villa like some man possessed before taking all of his belongings, and I mean all of them Cassie, before leaving for good?"
Castiel stopped mid-step.
"All of them?" Castiel whispered.
"Yes. I can't imagine what he's doing now. Most likely blowing all his of his precious American money on some sleazy, bug infested hostel room while he sits and rots."
"That's not true…He has his room at the seminary-"
"Which he declined, mind you, to stay in the villa."
Castiel couldn't breathe for a few moments, realizing in full what exactly that meant.
"My God, what have I done…?"
"Hmm, yes. What indeed."
Castiel took off at a sprint for the main gate; ignoring Balthazar's shouts that quickly faded behind him, a clenching feeling in his gut ran unbidden up his spine till it grasped his heart and squeezed mercilessly. The cold that he thought he had left in his room suddenly spilled back down, and Castiel almost imagined seeing his breath fog the air before running into the muggy Italian night.
________________________________________
Dean didn't like the number of stares he was attracting in the airport's waiting area. Sure, he looked like a normal, unwashed American tourist, but he was sure his face was a sight to see.
He was sure it was all puffy from the tears, scrunched up in uncontrollable bitterness every time his eyes landed on some vacationing couple. Even old married couples pissed him off. They had already spent plenty of time with the person they loved the most. He only had a year. A glorious, amazing year, but a year all the same. Not nearly long enough to satisfy him.
In the midst of all his hateful staring he missed the flight number announced over the PA system, and a few minutes after that a jean clad waist cut off his view of some rather touchy-feely teenagers.
"Hey, grumpy." Dean looked up to see the saddened but warm face of his younger brother.
"You're blocking my view," he growled, not even bothering to return the greeting.
"What view? Two horny kids sucking face? Hardly something I figured you'd be interested in."
"Oh hell yeah, got myself a whole new bucket full of kinks."Dean answered blandly. Sam just hummed in response, content to sit there until Dean felt like moving.
"You look like shit, by the way," Sam finally muttered.
"Considering I haven't taken a shower in days, I think I look like some hot shit, right?"
"Yeah, real hot shit."
They fell silent once more, then Sam couldn't take it anymore and clapped Dean on the back and stood to grab their bags.
"Jeez, Dean! Got enough stuff?" Sam tried to joke.
"That's everything I brought with me to begin with…you remember how much shit mom packed for me."
"Dean…how have you been able to carry all this around?"
"I have my ways."
Either Sam didn't want to reply, or didn't know how to.
________________________________________
Castiel arrived at the seminary in record time. He didn't know why he ran there, didn't know why he thought Dean would be there, he just did. He especially didn't know why he thought he could just waltz back in without any resistance. He looked like a half-starved lunatic at the moment, which wasn't far from the truth. His cassock was in a state of rumpled disarray, his clerical collar was possibly on the ground somewhere between the villa and the seminary, and his eyes were red. He looked the very definition of a man possessed, and he half hoped no one here took that fact literally.
"F-father? Father Castiel?" Castiel whirled around, startling the two American tourists that had stopped behind him.
"Uh, I'm…yes, how can I help you?"
"Some guy named Winchester paid us to wait for you."
Castiel swore in that moment his heart skipped several beats.
"Winchester? Dean Winchester?"
"Didn't say a first name, but he was a real big guy. Tall, I mean." Sam?
"Okay…well, what did he want?"
"Here."
The girl handed him a slip of paper before they left, leaving one extremely confused priest behind. He unfolded the note, struggling to calm down before his heart leapt from his chest.
Father Castiel,
If you're reading this, then you've returned to the seminary, which is good and all, but Dean needs you. He can't go on like this, I've seen him like this only once before and trust me, it didn't turn out pretty. We're staying at the hotel next to the airport for a few weeks, hopefully this note gets to you before we leave. I'm taking Dean home, regardless if you show or not. Deny it all you want, he cares for you. Deeply. And if you can't return even a single ounce of the love he feels for you, then you don't deserve him in the first place, and you're a lesser man than I thought you to be. So please, come see him before we leave. You owe him that at least.
Best regards,
Sam Winchester
Castiel, despite his protesting body, found himself running once again.
________________________________________
"What are we still waiting around for, Sammy? I don't think I can stand anymore crap coffee and room service."
"You used to thrive off of this shit, what happened?"
"…Cas happened."
Sam mumbled something incoherently before pacing back and forth by the door.
Dean continued to sit spitefully silent on the dusty mattress, brooding and glaring at anything that sparkled. He hated this, hated needing Castiel like he needed air. He thought the other man felt the same. It was obvious how close they had become, and Dean had felt he needed to say something to the other man. But he hadn't expected it to go so wrong. Did he overreact by leaving the villa? Quite possibly. But he didn't want to continue living with the man he confessed to, and was rejected by the way…that would be a whole new level of awkward that Dean simply wasn't ready to face.
"I need some air…" Dean sighed after a short while, pushing his way past his slightly protesting brother, slamming the door behind him. He had practically been on house arrest since his brother came for him, and he was getting stir crazy. Plus he suspected that the heavenly espresso Castiel introduced to him was laced with some form of addictive drug. And right now he could really go for some delicious liquid crack.
On his way out he slammed into some crazy rushed guy and offered a quick, "scusi," before trying to trudge past, but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him from going any further.
"Your pronunciation is terrible, as usual."
Dean turned slowly, unable to believe what he was hearing, and time slowed to a grinding halt.
"L-like yours is any better, you sack of shit."
Castiel-oh God it was really Castiel-flinched at the harsh language before quirking a small, Castielesque smile. Dean zeroed in on those lips-had he never noticed how chapped but beautiful they were?-and the lobby, the people, and the world around him dissolved to a blur.
"I suppose I'll have to get used to that mouth of yours all over again."
Dean could only stop and stare at the disheveled priest before him, who perhaps looked worse off than he did before Sam practically shoved him under the hotel shower's spray, still fully clothed, claiming he smelled like a dead cat.
"Is this real," Dean whispered, watching as Castiel's worn features dropped slightly, "are you really here?"
Castiel nodded, swallowing heavily.
"I-I came to see you…Sam told me you were leaving, so I…"
"Wait, Sam? How did he…?"
"A note from some tourists, I don't know how he knew where I was going to be, but he did."
"He's…a smart kid."
They trailed off into an unfamiliar, awkward silence. They never did awkward before. Castiel eventually became self-aware and attempted to smooth out the deep set wrinkles in his cassock. Dean reached forward to help, unused to seeing Castiel without the white clerical collar that completed his usually pristine outfit. Unused to seeing him in such a state period. He took in the dark bags under his eyes, how he could barely see a hint of blue past the redness in them, and how his hair seemed even darker than ever, unwashed. Castiel smelled like sweat, old paper, and…
"Have you been drinking?"
Castiel's face lit up in a furious blush.
"I would hardly describe it as 'drinking' per se, I took a bottle of Balthazar's wine and barely got half way through…"
"I figured you for a lightweight, but man…"
"I'm a priest, Dean."
Dean stopped, the half-formed smile on his face dropped instantly.
"Yeah, forgot…"
Castiel ran a hand through his dirty, matted hair, grimacing and pulling his hand back.
"Hey, uh, do you wanna come upstairs with me?"
Castiel snapped his head up in alarm, eyes wide, blush spreading even further. Dean mimicked the reaction.
"Oh! Oh, God, no…uh, to borrow the shower, you look like you need one, or a couple. Ha ha…"
"Oh, right. Yes, I would like that…"
The elevator ride was even more unpleasant than their reunion in the lobby. Honestly, if Dean ever imagined them meeting again, this wasn't how he intended it to go down. He imagined some sort of field of flowers, or their eyes meeting through a crowd, bumping into each other years later. Song and dance…not this shit. Not only a few weeks after their…whatever it was.
Split-up.
Definitely not what he imagined. Though now that he knew Sammy played a small role as twisted cupid, he wasn't surprised it turned out like this.
Strange, awkward, and totally not normal.
Then again, since when was falling in love with a male priest normal for Dean Winchester?
The ping when they reached their floor startled them both and they laughed nervously. Dean headed out first and prayed to God that Sam had gone to get food or something. Thankfully, God somehow answered his prayers, he found a note on his bed explaining where Sam had gone.
Dean had about an hour, possibly less.
"Okay, shower's through there, and there should be fresh towels and stuff. My clothes should kinda fit you, the shirts at least. I'll find you something while you're in the shower okay? Use plenty of soap. You smell like a public toilet."
"Hopefully not an American one." Castiel attempted to joke, and was happy that it elicited something close to a smile from Dean.
"No, just an Italian one. Those are smellier."
Castiel chuckled before shutting the door.
'Wait, were we just…flirting?'
His smile dropped, and he sullenly started the shower. Seriously, what had he hoped to accomplish by running here like a madman? He still wasn't fully squared with how he felt for Dean. But like a crack in a glass it was there…extremely and painfully obvious. Balthazar's words echoed through his head as he stepped under the scalding spray. He hissed and turned it down, lathering his hair and going over everything his older brother had said.
It was true, they had a fight, sort of, and Castiel didn't know how to react. He had never gotten into such an altercation with someone so close to him before. Balthazar didn't count, Uriel didn't count, not even God Himself. The truth hurt him deeply, and it hit him like a bolt of electricity to his heart.
There hadn't been anyone like Dean before.
He thought, at first, that Dean was just like everyone else. A shining youth, ready to take on a life of faith and needing an experienced guide to aid him. How wrong he was, and belatedly he realized how strange they must have seemed to the rest of the seminarians. They were always together, joined at the hip was the term. It was incredible that no one had confronted them about it, unless Castiel was just being paranoid and it didn't look like…didn't look like that.
Dean was special. Just like Dean had said he himself was special.
Castiel folded in on himself and crumpled to the bottom of the shower. He could see the cracks in the sides of the tub, could see the water and the soapy lather as it ran off his head and into the drain. Could finally see what he was to Dean, what Dean was to him, and how foolish he had been in the meantime.
His religion, his faith was unimportant. What Dean said only affirmed his belief.
If God did not want them to meet, did not want this to happen, He would have made it so.
And Castiel smiled, a true smile that hurt his face, and it felt to him like great wings were spreading for the first time in a millennium and shaking off the dust and the rot.
He stood, and in his haste almost slipped in the soap that had collected at the bottom of the tub. He hurriedly scrubbed his body down, rinsing the shampoo from his hair and had shut the water off right when Dean opened the door to the bathroom with a small pile of clothes.
"Uh, hey Cas, here are some-"
"Dean."
The named man stopped in his tracks, freezing like a deer in headlights about to be run down by a huge freaking truck. Dean had been staring at the ground to avoid Castiel's nakedness, and Castiel could see his cheeks burn, see his eyes flick back and forth over the dirty tile flooring, and could see the way his eyes more than lingered in his direction.
Castiel held out his hand and Dean gave him the clothes, a loose fitting shirt and some boxers, as well as a pair of drawstring cotton pants. He shuffled out of the bathroom, too embarrassed or too in control to try anything. Castiel dressed quickly, afraid that his sudden burst of courage, as well as his epiphany, would leave him like the rapidly draining water at his feet.
He stepped out, pleased that Dean was still there, not quite staring but still looking at Castiel. Expectantly, which didn't help his nerves.
He ran a hand through his hair again, was he developing some sort of nervous habit? He realized blurrily that he missed some shampoo before he felt a chapped pair of lips cover his own. He inhaled sharply, and as he did, he inhaled Dean. He inhaled a scent that he could truly say was the younger man's, a faint smell of some name brand cologne, alcohol, freshly washed cotton, fire, damnation and salvation all in one.
Freedom.
He let loose a soft sound in the back of his throat, eyes closing slightly before those lips were gone in an instant. Dean drew back, but he rested his forehead on Castiel's, breathing deeply and evenly as he stared into the other's eyes, as if trying to decipher what intentions Castiel might hold.
"Is this…okay?" Dean ventured softly, coming closer so he was crowding into Castiel's space. It wasn't threatening in any way, and Castiel liked it, he felt warm and secure.
"Yes, it is…Dean, I apologize, I have been foolish, I-"
Dean silenced him with another kiss, this one more firm than the last.
"You were acting in a way that any normal man would have, I was the one who was stupid to believe that you would drop everything and-and do this with me." Dean gestured vaguely with his hand. "You are a man of God. The way you reacted was more than I could have ever imagined. You have a beautiful, kind heart, Castiel…" he blushed, trailing off, clearly out of his field of experience.
It's not as if Castiel was faring any better. His "beautiful, kind heart" was beating at about a mile a minute, he was sure he was sweating in random places he had never thought capable, and he suddenly became all too aware of the shampoo still stuck in his hair.
But still, he placed a well aimed kiss on the side of Dean's open mouth.
"I'm not sure if I can…completely reciprocate this," Castiel looked down at Dean's half-hard length that had poked him in his thigh, "for the time being, anyway." He added shyly, looking around at the eggshell white of the cracked hotel walls, anywhere but the man in front of him.
"Anything…anything you want Cas, you just tell me. We can take it slow, or we don't have to do anything at all, I don't care, as long as I'm with you I'll be fine." Dean murmured frantically, burying his face into Castiel's still wet hair, leaning against him desperately as if afraid he would suddenly vanish into thin air.
"Take me with you then."
It was a whisper that barely held the volume of a beat of a butterfly's wings, but Dean heard it all the same.
"Take me back to Kansas with you, I can't stay here…too many memories holding me back." Castiel continued, leaning equally back into Dean, inhaling his scent once more and screwing his eyes shut.
Dean tentatively reached forward and tangled their fingers together, squeezing at random intervals.
"You sure? America is way different than this place. As much as I hate to admit it, half the things people say about it are true."
"As long as you're there. Besides, I at least will arrive able to speak the language."
"Hmm, yeah, I'll have to tie you up in my house to keep all the ladies off your sexy Italian ass."
"That doesn't sound too horrible…" Castiel leaned forward, aiming to score another sweet kiss from his newfound love until they heard the front door click open and they sprang apart.
"Hey, Dean, you back yet?"
After taking a moment to calm down, in more ways than one, he scuffled back into the room.
"Yeah, hey Sammy, you'll never guess who I found wandering around in the lobby." Dean almost smiled at Sam's hopeful little puppy face, seriously, how more obvious could the kid get?
"Hello Sam." Castiel greeted, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders.
"C-Castiel…" Sam stuttered, looking almost shocked.
"Your note, by the way, was extremely frightening, you might want to consider a career in blackmail rather than in law," Castiel paused, "actually, stay right where you are."
Sam chuckled nervously, and Dean could practically see the cogs grinding away in his brain.
"Relax, Sammy…we're…we're okay." Dean chuckled, glancing back at Castiel, almost afraid that he would somehow vanish and the past few minutes had only been a dream.
"Okay? Okay how…?"
Castiel smiled slightly, looking down at Dean's hand before taking it in his.
"We're okay, Sam."
-o-
Author: babygatsby
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Destiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Destiel AU, poor knowledge of Catholicism, sexual situations, disturbing elements (unexplicit exorcism/torture)
Word Count: ~15,000, complete
Summary: Dean Winchester is a seminarian studying abroad in the ancient yet beautifully stunning city of the Vatican. Alone and underestimated, he befriends Castiel, a local Italian priest, and through each other they discover love and closure they have never experienced before.
Chapter One
Shadowfeet Chapter Two
"Hey, mom? I-is Sammy there?...No I just really need to talk to him about...something…"
Dean hovered anxiously in front of the phone booth, glancing around conspicuously while trying to fight back tears. He didn't know why he was calling his brother, honestly, what was he going to tell him?
'Oh hey, Sammy, by the way…You remember that priest that was with me? Yeah, I kinda fell in love with him and almost corrupted the most religiously pure man I have ever met. So yeah, in a nutshell, I'm fucked.'
Yeah, he really saw that going well. Sam might've have been close with him, but if he told him within the same conversation that he had somehow found out he was gay, and gay for a priest for that matter…Dean didn't know how Sam would react. He certainly didn't think it would be a positive reaction.
Truth was, he didn't have anyone else to talk to, and he belatedly realized when he heard scuffling of the phone switching hands on the other line that Castiel would be the one he would talk to in a situation like this. That hurt him in more ways than he would care to admit.
"Hey, what's up Dean?"
"Hey Sammy…you got a minute? Well, a lot of minutes?"
"Um…yeah? Dean…what's this about?"
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his sleep deprived face.
"Sammy, I-I've done something bad."
"How bad." Sam instantly jumped on the offensive, his voice sharp in his pre-lawyer way.
"Look, it's not like I killed anyone, you can relax." Dean chuckled uneasily.
Sam sighed on the other end, the sound transmuting into a grainy hiss in Dean's ear.
"Why are you calling me, man? You get some chick knocked up?"
"Okay, would you listen to me Sammy? This is just going to be hard, okay? And I need you to listen to me, all the way to the end. Even if you don't like it, clear?"
"Got it, Dean…" Sam sighed again, and Dean could almost picture his brows furrowing in consternation before, "so what happened?"
"You remember Castiel?"
"Of course I remember Cas, you never stop talking about him."
"I've kinda…I've kinda done something bad to him Sammy." Dean whispered.
"Damn it, Dean, stop beating around the bush! What. Did. You. Do?"
"I fell in love with him, God damn it!" Dean shouted hoarsely, startling his audience of pigeons and caused them to fly off toward the surrounding trees. Sam didn't respond, but Dean could still hear him breathing.
"Damn it Sammy, say something."
"Something."
"Sam!"
"Well, c'mon Dean! What do you expect me to say? Golly gee, Dean! That's incredible, did y'all do the nasty yet?"
Sam was lucky Dean understood his particular brand of sarcasm or he would have been screaming into the receiver at that point.
"Besides, what the heck am I supposed to do? Fly out there and hold your hand while you confess your undying love like some kindergartener? No thanks, plane tickets are expensive."
"It kinda already happened."
"No shit…" Sam breathed, and Dean could tell he wasn't being facetious.
"It didn't really…go as I planned."
"Dean, is this why you're calling?"
"No shit, Sherlock! Who else am I supposed to call?" Dean choked a little before continuing, "I have no one else, Sammy…"
"Dean…are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay! I'm peachy, actually! I have no friends now, I've been living with Cas so I gave up my room at the seminary, I barely have any money, and can barely speak passable Italian! How do you think I am?"
The line went silent again, but Dean could hear clicking in the background.
"Sammy what're you doing?"
"I'm buying a ticket for the next flight to Rome. I expect you to be there when I arrive."
"C'mon man, don't do this…"
"I don't have a choice, Dean. You practically just told me you have nowhere else to go. You're like a hobo now, face facts. I'm coming to get you, I'm taking you home."
"No! I'm staying-"
"Dean, don't try and fool me. You know the only reason why you've been going to those classes and actually enjoying them is 'cause Cas was there, am I right?"
Dean paused at that. Was Sam right? It was true in a certain sense. Dean would not accept exorcism and that was the truth, never would. So why was he here? Why did he go to all of those extra classes? He didn't need to learn about the history of exorcism, he didn't need to learn about the origins of Catholicism, and he certainly didn't need to learn about history's greatest popes. And ever since that last fateful conversation with Cas, he hadn't returned to the seminary. The answer was right in front of him the whole time.
It was Cas.
"Sammy…" Dean whined, feeling the bitter sting of tears as they refused to fall.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm coming for you, just hang on okay?"
Dean nodded stupidly before sputtering out a timid reply, barely catching Sam's flight time before replacing the phone.
What was he going to do until then?
________________________________________
"Cassie? Come on, Cassie open the door." Balthazar pleaded from outside Castiel's ever locked door.
"Go away, please," came the muffled reply.
"I certainly will not, not until you come out here and eat something. At least tell me what's wrong!"
Balthazar heard shuffling and a few thuds before the door was finally opened a fraction of an inch, revealing a single, red rimmed eye and a hint of mussed up hair.
"I said go away, please." Castiel's voice had hitched an octave lower, hoarse from expressing his sorrow to God, or whoever else was supposed to be listening to a half deranged priest.
"Castiel…" Balthazar breathed, stepping back slightly before his face hardened, shouldering his way into the room before the slighter man inside could stop him.
"Stop," he commanded, watching as Castiel flinched where he stood. "Stop this immediately. I will not tolerate such…such foolishness in my home!"
Balthazar grabbed his younger brother's arm, dragging him from the room to the kitchens.
"First we're going to get you something to eat, you haven't left that room in days and I can't imagine you the type to stash away goodies. Then we're going to clean you up, you reek."
Castiel shoved him off, glaring at him in a way Balthazar hadn't dreamt him capable of achieving.
"Don't pretend like you suddenly care for me. You never did. Why now? Do you see this as some…some sort of game? This isn't funny, Balthazar, this is no trick. I am not some sort of hormonal teenager who locks herself in her room after a big fight with her bfff, or whatever they're called…"
Balthazar's eyebrows inched higher and higher during Castiel's tirade, and he couldn't hold back a laugh at his brother's somewhat failed analogy.
"Cassie…that's exactly what you're doing though, aren't you?"
Castiel's glare changed from hateful to quizzical in the blink of an eye, and yet still cautious.
"You got in a little fight with your American boy-toy and you don't know how to handle it." Balthazar stated, rather smugly too, which didn't help Castiel's mood whatsoever.
"Think what you want, Balthazar, but that isn't what happened. And Dean is no 'boy-toy', he's-"
"Oh really? Well, Dean left in a hurry, didn't he? Why else would he storm through the villa like some man possessed before taking all of his belongings, and I mean all of them Cassie, before leaving for good?"
Castiel stopped mid-step.
"All of them?" Castiel whispered.
"Yes. I can't imagine what he's doing now. Most likely blowing all his of his precious American money on some sleazy, bug infested hostel room while he sits and rots."
"That's not true…He has his room at the seminary-"
"Which he declined, mind you, to stay in the villa."
Castiel couldn't breathe for a few moments, realizing in full what exactly that meant.
"My God, what have I done…?"
"Hmm, yes. What indeed."
Castiel took off at a sprint for the main gate; ignoring Balthazar's shouts that quickly faded behind him, a clenching feeling in his gut ran unbidden up his spine till it grasped his heart and squeezed mercilessly. The cold that he thought he had left in his room suddenly spilled back down, and Castiel almost imagined seeing his breath fog the air before running into the muggy Italian night.
________________________________________
Dean didn't like the number of stares he was attracting in the airport's waiting area. Sure, he looked like a normal, unwashed American tourist, but he was sure his face was a sight to see.
He was sure it was all puffy from the tears, scrunched up in uncontrollable bitterness every time his eyes landed on some vacationing couple. Even old married couples pissed him off. They had already spent plenty of time with the person they loved the most. He only had a year. A glorious, amazing year, but a year all the same. Not nearly long enough to satisfy him.
In the midst of all his hateful staring he missed the flight number announced over the PA system, and a few minutes after that a jean clad waist cut off his view of some rather touchy-feely teenagers.
"Hey, grumpy." Dean looked up to see the saddened but warm face of his younger brother.
"You're blocking my view," he growled, not even bothering to return the greeting.
"What view? Two horny kids sucking face? Hardly something I figured you'd be interested in."
"Oh hell yeah, got myself a whole new bucket full of kinks."Dean answered blandly. Sam just hummed in response, content to sit there until Dean felt like moving.
"You look like shit, by the way," Sam finally muttered.
"Considering I haven't taken a shower in days, I think I look like some hot shit, right?"
"Yeah, real hot shit."
They fell silent once more, then Sam couldn't take it anymore and clapped Dean on the back and stood to grab their bags.
"Jeez, Dean! Got enough stuff?" Sam tried to joke.
"That's everything I brought with me to begin with…you remember how much shit mom packed for me."
"Dean…how have you been able to carry all this around?"
"I have my ways."
Either Sam didn't want to reply, or didn't know how to.
________________________________________
Castiel arrived at the seminary in record time. He didn't know why he ran there, didn't know why he thought Dean would be there, he just did. He especially didn't know why he thought he could just waltz back in without any resistance. He looked like a half-starved lunatic at the moment, which wasn't far from the truth. His cassock was in a state of rumpled disarray, his clerical collar was possibly on the ground somewhere between the villa and the seminary, and his eyes were red. He looked the very definition of a man possessed, and he half hoped no one here took that fact literally.
"F-father? Father Castiel?" Castiel whirled around, startling the two American tourists that had stopped behind him.
"Uh, I'm…yes, how can I help you?"
"Some guy named Winchester paid us to wait for you."
Castiel swore in that moment his heart skipped several beats.
"Winchester? Dean Winchester?"
"Didn't say a first name, but he was a real big guy. Tall, I mean." Sam?
"Okay…well, what did he want?"
"Here."
The girl handed him a slip of paper before they left, leaving one extremely confused priest behind. He unfolded the note, struggling to calm down before his heart leapt from his chest.
Father Castiel,
If you're reading this, then you've returned to the seminary, which is good and all, but Dean needs you. He can't go on like this, I've seen him like this only once before and trust me, it didn't turn out pretty. We're staying at the hotel next to the airport for a few weeks, hopefully this note gets to you before we leave. I'm taking Dean home, regardless if you show or not. Deny it all you want, he cares for you. Deeply. And if you can't return even a single ounce of the love he feels for you, then you don't deserve him in the first place, and you're a lesser man than I thought you to be. So please, come see him before we leave. You owe him that at least.
Best regards,
Sam Winchester
Castiel, despite his protesting body, found himself running once again.
________________________________________
"What are we still waiting around for, Sammy? I don't think I can stand anymore crap coffee and room service."
"You used to thrive off of this shit, what happened?"
"…Cas happened."
Sam mumbled something incoherently before pacing back and forth by the door.
Dean continued to sit spitefully silent on the dusty mattress, brooding and glaring at anything that sparkled. He hated this, hated needing Castiel like he needed air. He thought the other man felt the same. It was obvious how close they had become, and Dean had felt he needed to say something to the other man. But he hadn't expected it to go so wrong. Did he overreact by leaving the villa? Quite possibly. But he didn't want to continue living with the man he confessed to, and was rejected by the way…that would be a whole new level of awkward that Dean simply wasn't ready to face.
"I need some air…" Dean sighed after a short while, pushing his way past his slightly protesting brother, slamming the door behind him. He had practically been on house arrest since his brother came for him, and he was getting stir crazy. Plus he suspected that the heavenly espresso Castiel introduced to him was laced with some form of addictive drug. And right now he could really go for some delicious liquid crack.
On his way out he slammed into some crazy rushed guy and offered a quick, "scusi," before trying to trudge past, but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him from going any further.
"Your pronunciation is terrible, as usual."
Dean turned slowly, unable to believe what he was hearing, and time slowed to a grinding halt.
"L-like yours is any better, you sack of shit."
Castiel-oh God it was really Castiel-flinched at the harsh language before quirking a small, Castielesque smile. Dean zeroed in on those lips-had he never noticed how chapped but beautiful they were?-and the lobby, the people, and the world around him dissolved to a blur.
"I suppose I'll have to get used to that mouth of yours all over again."
Dean could only stop and stare at the disheveled priest before him, who perhaps looked worse off than he did before Sam practically shoved him under the hotel shower's spray, still fully clothed, claiming he smelled like a dead cat.
"Is this real," Dean whispered, watching as Castiel's worn features dropped slightly, "are you really here?"
Castiel nodded, swallowing heavily.
"I-I came to see you…Sam told me you were leaving, so I…"
"Wait, Sam? How did he…?"
"A note from some tourists, I don't know how he knew where I was going to be, but he did."
"He's…a smart kid."
They trailed off into an unfamiliar, awkward silence. They never did awkward before. Castiel eventually became self-aware and attempted to smooth out the deep set wrinkles in his cassock. Dean reached forward to help, unused to seeing Castiel without the white clerical collar that completed his usually pristine outfit. Unused to seeing him in such a state period. He took in the dark bags under his eyes, how he could barely see a hint of blue past the redness in them, and how his hair seemed even darker than ever, unwashed. Castiel smelled like sweat, old paper, and…
"Have you been drinking?"
Castiel's face lit up in a furious blush.
"I would hardly describe it as 'drinking' per se, I took a bottle of Balthazar's wine and barely got half way through…"
"I figured you for a lightweight, but man…"
"I'm a priest, Dean."
Dean stopped, the half-formed smile on his face dropped instantly.
"Yeah, forgot…"
Castiel ran a hand through his dirty, matted hair, grimacing and pulling his hand back.
"Hey, uh, do you wanna come upstairs with me?"
Castiel snapped his head up in alarm, eyes wide, blush spreading even further. Dean mimicked the reaction.
"Oh! Oh, God, no…uh, to borrow the shower, you look like you need one, or a couple. Ha ha…"
"Oh, right. Yes, I would like that…"
The elevator ride was even more unpleasant than their reunion in the lobby. Honestly, if Dean ever imagined them meeting again, this wasn't how he intended it to go down. He imagined some sort of field of flowers, or their eyes meeting through a crowd, bumping into each other years later. Song and dance…not this shit. Not only a few weeks after their…whatever it was.
Split-up.
Definitely not what he imagined. Though now that he knew Sammy played a small role as twisted cupid, he wasn't surprised it turned out like this.
Strange, awkward, and totally not normal.
Then again, since when was falling in love with a male priest normal for Dean Winchester?
The ping when they reached their floor startled them both and they laughed nervously. Dean headed out first and prayed to God that Sam had gone to get food or something. Thankfully, God somehow answered his prayers, he found a note on his bed explaining where Sam had gone.
Dean had about an hour, possibly less.
"Okay, shower's through there, and there should be fresh towels and stuff. My clothes should kinda fit you, the shirts at least. I'll find you something while you're in the shower okay? Use plenty of soap. You smell like a public toilet."
"Hopefully not an American one." Castiel attempted to joke, and was happy that it elicited something close to a smile from Dean.
"No, just an Italian one. Those are smellier."
Castiel chuckled before shutting the door.
'Wait, were we just…flirting?'
His smile dropped, and he sullenly started the shower. Seriously, what had he hoped to accomplish by running here like a madman? He still wasn't fully squared with how he felt for Dean. But like a crack in a glass it was there…extremely and painfully obvious. Balthazar's words echoed through his head as he stepped under the scalding spray. He hissed and turned it down, lathering his hair and going over everything his older brother had said.
It was true, they had a fight, sort of, and Castiel didn't know how to react. He had never gotten into such an altercation with someone so close to him before. Balthazar didn't count, Uriel didn't count, not even God Himself. The truth hurt him deeply, and it hit him like a bolt of electricity to his heart.
There hadn't been anyone like Dean before.
He thought, at first, that Dean was just like everyone else. A shining youth, ready to take on a life of faith and needing an experienced guide to aid him. How wrong he was, and belatedly he realized how strange they must have seemed to the rest of the seminarians. They were always together, joined at the hip was the term. It was incredible that no one had confronted them about it, unless Castiel was just being paranoid and it didn't look like…didn't look like that.
Dean was special. Just like Dean had said he himself was special.
Castiel folded in on himself and crumpled to the bottom of the shower. He could see the cracks in the sides of the tub, could see the water and the soapy lather as it ran off his head and into the drain. Could finally see what he was to Dean, what Dean was to him, and how foolish he had been in the meantime.
His religion, his faith was unimportant. What Dean said only affirmed his belief.
If God did not want them to meet, did not want this to happen, He would have made it so.
And Castiel smiled, a true smile that hurt his face, and it felt to him like great wings were spreading for the first time in a millennium and shaking off the dust and the rot.
He stood, and in his haste almost slipped in the soap that had collected at the bottom of the tub. He hurriedly scrubbed his body down, rinsing the shampoo from his hair and had shut the water off right when Dean opened the door to the bathroom with a small pile of clothes.
"Uh, hey Cas, here are some-"
"Dean."
The named man stopped in his tracks, freezing like a deer in headlights about to be run down by a huge freaking truck. Dean had been staring at the ground to avoid Castiel's nakedness, and Castiel could see his cheeks burn, see his eyes flick back and forth over the dirty tile flooring, and could see the way his eyes more than lingered in his direction.
Castiel held out his hand and Dean gave him the clothes, a loose fitting shirt and some boxers, as well as a pair of drawstring cotton pants. He shuffled out of the bathroom, too embarrassed or too in control to try anything. Castiel dressed quickly, afraid that his sudden burst of courage, as well as his epiphany, would leave him like the rapidly draining water at his feet.
He stepped out, pleased that Dean was still there, not quite staring but still looking at Castiel. Expectantly, which didn't help his nerves.
He ran a hand through his hair again, was he developing some sort of nervous habit? He realized blurrily that he missed some shampoo before he felt a chapped pair of lips cover his own. He inhaled sharply, and as he did, he inhaled Dean. He inhaled a scent that he could truly say was the younger man's, a faint smell of some name brand cologne, alcohol, freshly washed cotton, fire, damnation and salvation all in one.
Freedom.
He let loose a soft sound in the back of his throat, eyes closing slightly before those lips were gone in an instant. Dean drew back, but he rested his forehead on Castiel's, breathing deeply and evenly as he stared into the other's eyes, as if trying to decipher what intentions Castiel might hold.
"Is this…okay?" Dean ventured softly, coming closer so he was crowding into Castiel's space. It wasn't threatening in any way, and Castiel liked it, he felt warm and secure.
"Yes, it is…Dean, I apologize, I have been foolish, I-"
Dean silenced him with another kiss, this one more firm than the last.
"You were acting in a way that any normal man would have, I was the one who was stupid to believe that you would drop everything and-and do this with me." Dean gestured vaguely with his hand. "You are a man of God. The way you reacted was more than I could have ever imagined. You have a beautiful, kind heart, Castiel…" he blushed, trailing off, clearly out of his field of experience.
It's not as if Castiel was faring any better. His "beautiful, kind heart" was beating at about a mile a minute, he was sure he was sweating in random places he had never thought capable, and he suddenly became all too aware of the shampoo still stuck in his hair.
But still, he placed a well aimed kiss on the side of Dean's open mouth.
"I'm not sure if I can…completely reciprocate this," Castiel looked down at Dean's half-hard length that had poked him in his thigh, "for the time being, anyway." He added shyly, looking around at the eggshell white of the cracked hotel walls, anywhere but the man in front of him.
"Anything…anything you want Cas, you just tell me. We can take it slow, or we don't have to do anything at all, I don't care, as long as I'm with you I'll be fine." Dean murmured frantically, burying his face into Castiel's still wet hair, leaning against him desperately as if afraid he would suddenly vanish into thin air.
"Take me with you then."
It was a whisper that barely held the volume of a beat of a butterfly's wings, but Dean heard it all the same.
"Take me back to Kansas with you, I can't stay here…too many memories holding me back." Castiel continued, leaning equally back into Dean, inhaling his scent once more and screwing his eyes shut.
Dean tentatively reached forward and tangled their fingers together, squeezing at random intervals.
"You sure? America is way different than this place. As much as I hate to admit it, half the things people say about it are true."
"As long as you're there. Besides, I at least will arrive able to speak the language."
"Hmm, yeah, I'll have to tie you up in my house to keep all the ladies off your sexy Italian ass."
"That doesn't sound too horrible…" Castiel leaned forward, aiming to score another sweet kiss from his newfound love until they heard the front door click open and they sprang apart.
"Hey, Dean, you back yet?"
After taking a moment to calm down, in more ways than one, he scuffled back into the room.
"Yeah, hey Sammy, you'll never guess who I found wandering around in the lobby." Dean almost smiled at Sam's hopeful little puppy face, seriously, how more obvious could the kid get?
"Hello Sam." Castiel greeted, emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders.
"C-Castiel…" Sam stuttered, looking almost shocked.
"Your note, by the way, was extremely frightening, you might want to consider a career in blackmail rather than in law," Castiel paused, "actually, stay right where you are."
Sam chuckled nervously, and Dean could practically see the cogs grinding away in his brain.
"Relax, Sammy…we're…we're okay." Dean chuckled, glancing back at Castiel, almost afraid that he would somehow vanish and the past few minutes had only been a dream.
"Okay? Okay how…?"
Castiel smiled slightly, looking down at Dean's hand before taking it in his.
"We're okay, Sam."
-o-