A Change of Constellation: Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Dean packs his clothes in the morning. Sam makes a point of giving him his bank card, as well as packing up some of those baby things. The sun rises and Dean would rather go back to bed, but he hugs Sam before he leaves. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Yeah." Sam hands Dean a couple sheets of paper, printed with directions and Castiel's new address. "Give me a call when you arrive."
"Will do." Dean looks around the yard one more time. "Take care of it while I'm gone, alright? And call me if the new guy can't handle it."
"He used to do work for Bobby."
With that, they part ways. Dean tries to stay chipper until he knows that Sam can't see him sag in the front seat.
The drive will take two days, three if Dean takes his time. Apparently this whole time Castiel has been living with some dude in Seattle. Sam assured him that there's a great neonatal unit in a hospital there -- later, Dean had to look up the work neonatal. Babies are complicated.
It's nice to be on the road alone again. Lonely, but nice.
He and Castiel talked briefly on the phone last night. The whole thing was so terse and business-like -- yes, he would feel better if Dean were close-by, and no, his roommate wouldn't mind. There was plenty of room. Castiel expected it wouldn't be much longer before it all fell apart, but he told Sam that he wasn't worried.
On one hand, Dean feels bad for lying to Sam. Sam's not stupid, he has to know that Castiel has doubts. On the other hand, he wants Sam to have that hope. Let Sam hold onto enough hope for all of them.
Dean fishes one-handed through the tapes scattered on the passenger seat before finally settling on one of his old Metallica tapes. The wire for Sam's iPod still hangs out of the stereo. Dean plays like he still hates it, but whenever he looks at it, it reminds him that Sam can grow without him.
That said, without Sam he can turn the radio all the way up. The wind rushes past the open windows, the music is loud, and something in his stomach pops. Once, then again and again and wait a second...
He laughs. Despite all the doom and gloom and impossibility of it all, he presses a hand to his abdomen and laughs as the baby pops around again. "Well, at least you have good taste."
⊱⊰
Dean makes it to Castiel's apartment building just a little after lunch on Sunday. It's not his first visit to Seattle (once for a standard salt-and-burn, once for a rogue werewolf) but he's pleasantly surprised to see that Castiel lives in a fairly respectable neighborhood, if in a scuzzy college sort of way. There's a park not far down the street, and the building has a small lobby with a little buzzer. The label next to the button for 6E says "Underwood/Novak."
Dean has to buzz twice before an unfamiliar voice comes over the tinny speaker: "Yeah?"
"Is Cas in? He's expecting me."
"Oh, Dean, right? Yeah, he's not here. Come on up."
Dean opens the door when it screeches. Beyond it his options are a small elevator or some stairs -- he opts for the elevator. Most of his bags are still in the Impala, but he has a backpack that Sam loaded with his laptop. (I've been meaning to get a new one anyway, he said when Dean protested.)
When he knocks on the door, the roommate yells, "Come in!"
The apartment reminds him of the apartment Lisa had when they were 19. It's not as small, but it has the inherent untidiness of people who rank picking up only slightly above torture on their to-do list. He's seen closets bigger than the kitchen. The furniture is mismatched and faded with age.
The sliding glass doors out onto a deck are open; the roommate is sitting with his feet up on a two-person patio table. He's rolling a cigarette from a bag of loose-leaf tobacco, and he waves in greeting when he sees Dean.
"Dean," Dean says, setting his bag on the floor behind the couch.
"Luke." He gestures to the empty chair. "Come on out; beer's in the fridge if you want one."
"No, but thanks." Dean does help himself to a glass of water (though he checks, and Castiel buys shitty beer). The roommate is maybe mid-twenties, and has an obvious layer of blond stubble framing a sharp face. If he didn't have a ponytail, he could almost look respectable. "So, you work with Cas?"
"Yeah." Luke licks the edge of the rolling paper to seal the cigarette, and lights up. He blows the smoke away from Dean. "Library on campus -- people love Cas. He said you guys go way back."
"Yup."
Luke lets his cigarette hang from one hand. "Was it a church thing? Cas is all hush-hush about that church shit. I mean, Daphne would be some big secret if I hadn't met her on accident -- and no offense, but he didn't mention you before, 'Hey, I have a buddy crashing with us'."
"Uh, not really a church thing," Dean replies. "Daphne?"
"Oh, yeah. She's, like, one of those friends that every dude has. That cute one you totally want to get with, but she's always ambiguously unavailable. Mine's named Ella." He takes a drag off his cigarette and squints up at the clouds like he's reading a sign. "They might be dating now, I'm not sure. So, not a church thing?"
Dean only allows himself a second of panic at the idea that Castiel might be dating before he shakes it away. He remembers Castiel's lackluster interest in boobs. "We worked together, uh, years ago. Long before Seattle."
"Cool." Luke has one of those big, charismatic grins that always makes Dean uncomfortable. "So, you gotta tell me what Cas is short for."
Dean nearly squirts his water through his noise. Instead, he coughs his way into a laugh. "You don't know?"
"Nah, he won't say. Our boss didn't even know it was a nickname until he let slip one day that you gave it to him. We've got bets. I'm bettin' he was named after Butch Cassidy, but the other popular vote is Casper." Luke shifts him a sideways glance and chuckles. "You could win me a lot of money with a little nod here, Dean."
"I'm not ruining it for him." Dean laughs again. "So where is he, anyway?"
"Daphne, maybe. What time is it?" Luke peers into the apartment, squinting at the readout on the DVD player. "Nah, church is out. Not sure, but he said he'd bring home pizza, so I wouldn't worry."
"No big deal. He's a grown man." Dean wonders what else he doesn't know about Castiel anymore. He yawns, the stiffness of sitting in the car for days hitting him all at once. The deck is sunny and even a little unseasonably warm. He could doze off right here if he stays long enough. "Anywhere in particular I should put my stuff?"
"Oh, Cas said to set up in his room. Door on the left at the end of the hall. You need a hand?"
"Nah, I've just got a duffel. Thanks, though. Good to meet you."
"Sure thing." Luke gives him a little psuedo-salute with the stub of his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. Dean sort of waves before heading down to the car to get his bag.
He leaves the bag of baby stuff tucked under the false bottom of the truck, along with two handguns and a bag of rock salt.
Castiel's room has a double bed in one corner and a twin mattress in the other -- the mattress is wrapped in plastic with a price tag stuck on, with a sheet set piled on top. Dean settles in, unwrapping the mattress and making the bed. The sheets are stiff and smell of chemical packaging, but the bed is comfortably firm. He steals a pillow off of Castiel's bed and sprawls out on his back. The baby must shift, guessing from the little twitch of motion. Sam had gleefully informed him the other day that the baby is probably about six inches long, because apparently Sam keeps track of that sort of thing.
Dean taps on his abdomen with one finger. "Get used to these trips, kid. Never met a Winchester who could settle for long."
Except, maybe he'd like to break the tradition of the roaming family. He certainly doesn't want to raise another hunter.
He taps out a quick text message: Arrived safely. Nothing to report.
With that done, he considers his options before pulling out Sam's laptop. He's not terribly keen to go sit out with Luke, and besides -- he ought to do some reading now that he doesn't have Sam to keep him up to date on this pregnancy.
⊱⊰
Dean perks up from an hour of reading about premature babies and surgical delivery at the sound of the door and the smell of pizza. He sets the computer aside and goes out to see Castiel clearing a spot on the table for two boxes of pizza and -- "Oh, did you seriously bring pie?"
Castiel smiles. Dean returns it. Luke snores on the couch.
"I thought you would like something a little familiar," Castiel says, gathering plates from the kitchen. "Have you been here long?"
"Not long at all." Dean digs in to the pizza and eyes the apple pie where Castiel sets it on the counter.
They walk out onto the deck together. The evening air is chilly but crisp, and the table is clear. Dean eats half a slice of his pizza, suddenly starving, before he strikes up conversation. "So, I hear no one knows your name."
Castiel shrugs. He eats as though he had been doing it all his life, folding his pizza slice in half and taking large bites. "I didn't want to explain it." He sets the plate aside and roots around on the bag of tobacco that Luke left out until he retrieves a rolled cigarette. With the cigarette between his lips, he pulls a half-used pack of matches from his pocket.
"So, you're a smoker now?"
Castiel lights up with his eyes focused on the end of the cigarette. "When the mood strikes." He sounds very human, and too familiar for Dean's comfort. "Angels do not feel substances the way humans do -- now that I can have the experience, I enjoy the occasion."
"How occasionally?"
Castiel answers with a wry smile. "Can I get you another slice of pizza?"
Dean can see an evasion when it's in front of him -- he's been manufacturing enough of them in the last several months. "Yeah; I haven't eaten this much since I was twelve, I swear. I shot up two feet that summer."
"I believe it." Castiel goes back inside long enough to bring back the whole box.
Dean clears his throat. "So, I felt the baby move."
The smile that Castiel gives him doesn't reach his eyes -- if anything, he looks heartbroken. "What's it like?"
"Weird. Little pops. Seems healthy, though. Stronger than I expected."
Instead of saying anything, Castiel smokes.
"Luke said you go to church?"
"I did not stop having faith in my Father, just because he lost faith in me." Castiel stares out into over the horizon, where the sun is setting behind tall buildings; he takes an absent bite of his dinner.
Keeping his voice as neutral as possible, Dean adds, "And that you have a friend named Daphne."
Castiel tilts his head when he looks at Dean, his eyebrow twitched up in surprise. It's strange, seeing the difference in him now that they were on his home turf. Dean hadn't realized how much Castiel was playing the part of his old self, until the illusion was gone. Or maybe this was new, a manifestation of Castiel's lost light. Finally, he says, "I don't expect you'll meet Daphne. You know. Church." He looks away again; he seems to have lost interest in his food. "Is there anything I can do to make this more comfortable?"
"It's fine," Dean says. He reaches out to pat Castiel's arm absently, but Castiel leans away from his touch. Oh. Fine, right. Dean drew that line in the sand the second he had been him again. He had no business being surprised when it worked. "Really, thanks."
"It's no problem. If you'll excuse me." Dean watches furtively while Castiel wakes Luke long enough to ask a question.
Dean looks away from the apartment as though he can turn a blind eye to the fact that Castiel is human -- and as a human, Castiel is drowning.
He instead finishes his pizza and brings the box inside. He doesn't have the appetite for pie; the pizza gave him wicked heartburn anyway. After a long hot shower, Dean heads straight to Castiel's bedroom. His stuff has been moved to the larger bed.
Castiel reads a book on the twin, with the window open behind him. "I didn't mean to put you on the floor," he says when Dean enters. He's calmer, and Dean recognizes the smell of pot, even when it's just the hint. He can't cast stones; it's not like he hadn't had done his share of coping over a joint. Shit, before this baby nonsense, Dean would have gladly joined in. "I would be a terrible host if I did."
"It's no big deal." Dean sits on the edge of the bed and tosses his towel into a pile of laundry in the corner. "I don't mind."
"But I do -- humor me, please, just once."
That's not fair, but Dean nods. "Okay. So, what should I do while I'm here?"
Castiel shrugs, staring at Dean's midsection hungrily. "Hope?" He makes his way across the short distance between beds on his knees. Dean's breath hitches, and Castiel presses a hand to Dean's stomach, gone just a bit smooth and round in the last couple weeks. Castiel closes his eyes and inhales, but when his hand falls away he's disappointed. "I can't connect to it."
"It's not a computer."
"But I could before," Castiel says in earnest. "Before, if I worried or had a bad feeling, I could just feel that it was alright. Now I can't feel anything." He retreats back to his book.
Dean rearranges the bed, moving his bag and computer to the floor before laying down. It's not late, but he's exhausted in every way possible. He closes his eyes and inhales the scent of the pillows. "What about when this whole thing goes down? How do you want to go from there?"
The laugh from Castiel's side of the room may as well be a recording from Dean's nightmares. "You're being optimistic, Dean. I haven't had the luxury of optimism for a long time. I assume when this all ends, we'll go back to where we started."
Alone, Dean finishes and rolls over to get some sleep.
⊱⊰
Somehow, Dean sleeps through the night; he wakes up alone in the bedroom with a dull grey light coming in through the blinds. Yawning, he stretches and lays in bed for a while. When he was on the road, the idea of crashing with Castiel hadn't seemed so bad -- sort of like a vacation, really. He had never taken a vacation before.
Vacations suck. He doesn't know if he can taken another 20 weeks of last night. On top of that, the apartment is freezing -- the nights are getting colder and lasting longer.
Eventually his growling stomach gets him out of bed, and he finds the pie still on the counter, with a note in messy handwriting on top: Luke, don't eat this. He snickers and cuts himself a slice of that bad boy. Apple. Hell yeah.
"Seriously, you suppose I could get in on that?"
Dean turns on his heel to see Luke sitting on the porch again. "Do you live out there? Was that door open all night?" Despite his complaining, Dean brings out an extra slice for Luke.
Luke shrugs. "Sometimes. I'm not going to lie; I was more baked than this pie last night." He laughs to himself.
Dean rolls his eyes. The pie is great -- it's sweet and syrupy and perks him right up.
"You want some coffee or something? There's this place around the corner where I usually get some before class. And, I don't know what you're going to do around here all day. Unless you're into XBox. In which case, I envy your open schedule."
Ben had an XBox, but all the games had been boring and non-violent; the one time a cashier talked Dean into buying a first person shooter, Lisa nearly lost it. "Sure. What are you studying?"
"Chemical engineering."
"Seriously?"
"Honest to god." Luke hums in appreciation with the next bite of his pie. "Cas said you were going to be here for a few months -- what's the scoop?"
Dean spears a particularly large piece of apple with his fork and chews it slowly, relishing the cinnamon. "It's a family thing," he says finally.
"Cas has family?"
"Cas has me."
Luke snorts. "Tone it down, Rambo. I've got you pegged, you know -- you scream 'soldier' with everything from your duffel bag to that whole weird macho thing you're doing." He indicates that whole weird macho thing with a strange little wave of his hand. "Cas does it too, though I can't put my finger on the what. I'm guessing intelligence or something."
"That's how he gets you. Cas is a surprisingly tough soldier; he devoted his life to it. Loved it."
"Worked together, then?"
"Yup." He finishes his pie and debates another slice. His stomach knots up, and the baby flutters. Maybe not more pie. Coffee, definitely.
Luke licks his plate and goes about lighting up another cigarette from his messy tobacco bag. "Discharged, I gather; he's got a discharged in disgrace feel about him."
Dean doesn't want to talk about it anymore, and not with Luke. Dean still can't shake this possessive feeling when he realizes that Castiel has built a normal life without him. He shouldn't feel possessive of Castiel, as though he has some claim to him. "So, coffee?"
"Yeah. Let me get dressed."
Dean dresses in jeans -- getting less wearable by the day, it seems -- and closes the deck doors before they leave. He jams his hands in his jacket pockets and follows alongside Luke, who pulls the hood of his sweater up.
The morning is bright and busy; they're by no means the first people in the coffee shop, even though the clock in the shop reveals that it's just after 9 AM.
"Hi, Luke," the girl behind the register says. She's pretty in a young way, with her hair up in the ponytail and her shirt cut to reveal ample cleavage. Dean can't bring himself to enjoy the view. "The usual?"
"And a black coffee." Dean pulls his wallet from his pocket. "I've got it," he adds to Luke. The bank card Sam supplied him with runs without a problem. The novelty hasn't worn off yet, when he's used to credit cards that shut off without notice. They settle at a table by the door. "So, where is this library you and Cas work at?"
"On campus." Luke's coffee has whipped cream piled on top; he slurps at it with all the glee of a child with ice cream. "This is great, having someone who knows Cas around. You're like Google with specialized knowledge."
"You know him."
"Nah, I just live with him. I mean, we party together; he's cool. Give me another couple years and I'd say I knew him."
This cheers Dean. Like he has something a little special.
"So, who is Claire? He won't say."
Dean considers the question carefully. He doesn't know a lot about Claire; he hasn't given her a second of thought since they left her and her mother back in Pontiac. That seems more wrong now than it did before. They had been saving the world. Now he was just a dude with a child who would share half of Claire's genes. He shivers.
"We..."
Luke watches expectantly. He believes that they served in the military.
Dean rolls with it. "We served with a guy named Jimmy. Claire is his daughter."
"Ah -- Cas talks about how he ruined her life. Like, a lot, when he's drunk or whatever."
Dean remembers the look of that girl when Castiel rode her body. "He might have."
"Harsh."
"No. He never hurt her, but her dad didn't fare so well."
"You guys were in some serious shit then."
"Yeah." He thinks back on Lucifer and the angels and all those souls from Purgatory ripping Castiel's body apart. He thinks of Bobby dying in the backlash of that ceremony. He thinks of all his time in Hell and watching Sam leap into Lucifer's cage. He's sitting in a café, and he swears he can feel Alistair's breath on his neck.
Dean exhales it away, a whole life that feels completely disconnected from his reality. "We were in some serious shit."
Luke checks the clock by the register. "My bus gets here soon, but if you want to come along, I can show you were the library is. No one will mind if you swing in and visit Cas."
"Sure." Dean throws away his coffee, still half full, and follows along through a throng of students at the bus stop. When the bus arrives, they pack in and stand close.
Luke's breath is all coffee and smoke, entirely too near when he asks, "Do you and Cas have some don't-ask-don't-tell thing going?"
Dean winces. "Not really, no."
"Just wondering."
The bus doesn't take long to arrive on campus, and Luke points him straight down the road. "Keep walking until you see it. Big building. It sort of exudes the feeling of books."
Dean heads down the sidewalk, avoiding the people milling from building to building. He's been on campuses before, and never liked the feel of so many people close together. It's what he hates about cities; there's too many hiding places, too many ways for the monsters to blend into the crowd.
Not that Dean hunts monsters anymore.
The library looms, easily the largest building on the block. Dean enters without the first idea of where he's headed. He hadn't thought to ask where exactly Castiel would be working, so he pulls out his phone and dials.
Castiel answers after a few rings, a little breathless, "Are you okay?"
"I'm in library. Where are you?"
"I thought you -- " Castiel stops and takes a deep breath. "Why are you at the library?"
Dean should have a good answer for this. I wanted to see you might work, or I missed you would make his stance a lot more clear. "Luke and I got coffee. He suggested it. It's not like I had anything else to do."
"Unfortunately, my hands are literally full. I can meet you for lunch at 11:30."
He'll take the compromise. At least on campus he can look at college girls. "Sure. Give me a call." It's hard to remember, sometimes, that people don't like having their regular work hours interrupted. Just another thing that makes civilian life so inconvenient. It's too regimented.
He heads back outside to soak up the bright morning sun, settling on a bench out not far from the library. Girls still travel in packs; it's been years since he was young enough to actually fit in on a campus, and that still hasn't changed. It's a stroke to his ego that at least three girls give him the second glance and the shy smile -- whatever else is happening to him, he's still got it.
The baby pops around a bit low in his abdomen. Right. Just because no one can see it, doesn't mean he's not a freak.
"You've got a weird life ahead of you," Dean says aloud. No one spares the weird dude talking to himself a second glance. "Normal kids with two dads at least have an egg donor somewhere."
There's no movement in response, and he reminds himself that it doesn't mean anything. It's still to early for regular movement.
"It's not like I don't know all about not having a mom, either. Your g -- " He chokes on the word, on the very idea. It's too soon for those kinds of labels, too wrong that his mother was long cold before she could be a grandmother. "My mom was a model mother, what I knew of her. Maybe it'll be easier for you. You won't have a mom to miss."
He folds his hands in his lap, pointedly not touching his abdomen. Not here, not now, not when people might wonder. Wonder what? If you have indigestion?
"Not true," he says finally. "Sorry I even said it."
⊱⊰
Castiel meets him in the food court at the union; he looks more anxious than pleased, but he smiles as he sits down across from Dean. "I'm sorry to make you wait."
"It's fine. I shouldn't have come up unannounced." Dean means it. Nearly four hours walking around by himself helped him come to the conclusion that Castiel deserves better than his frustrated hostility. Sure, some of this is Castiel's fault. About half of it. But that doesn't mean that he has a free pass to be a douche.
They get their food without speaking; as it turns out, Castiel still loves burgers, and they order a truly dismaying amount of them. Dean snacks on some fries as they walk back to the table.
"You're getting along with Luke, I gather," Castiel says as he unwraps his first burger.
"Yeah. He seems to think we were in the military together."
Castiel laughs, his face lighting up. "We were in battle. The military is easier to explain than the truth."
"That's what I thought." Dean eats while he considers his next question. He almost doesn't want to say it aloud, but he has to. If this baby actually happens, its something that has to be addressed. "What -- um, whatever happened to Jimmy?"
All the blood seems to drain from Castiel's face in an instant, the amusement gone. He sets his burger aside, half-eaten.
"It's just that Luke mentioned Claire, and I realized I don't know. Is this kid going to be related to her? I mean, genetically."
"I assume so." Castiel leans back in his chair and exhales. "Jimmy has been dead for a long time. I'm sorry, I didn't think you would want to know."
Dean doesn't know how he should feel about the news. He felt for Jimmy, back when they were keeping the guy from his family against his will. But it would be stupid to act like Jimmy being alive was a better option, not after all these years and all the abuse Castiel has endured. "I'm sorry. It can't be easy for you."
"It's not," Castiel snaps. "You don't -- "
"Cas!"
Dean and Castiel look over at almost the exact same moment.
The woman waves as she weaves between tables; she smiles and apologizes at almost every table as she makes her way over. Castiel raises his hand in a sort of wave and flashes Dean a significant look. Dean doesn't manage to decipher it before the woman arrives at the table and leans over to kiss Castiel.
Oh.
Dean flushes and looks directly into his food, even though his appetite has disappeared very suddenly. Jealousy. Right. This isn't how he acts; he didn't freak out when Lisa moved on after they broke up -- there's no reason to get mad when Castiel has moved on too.
It takes him a second to realize that he's heard his name. He looks up to find both Castiel and the woman watching him. She's pretty; more mature than Dean has ever preferred his flings, which only makes her look like a more serious relationship than a fling. "Sorry? I zoned out." He smiles like he always smiles when he's uncomfortable. Just charm his way out of the situation, then he can retreat to lick his wounds.
She laughs. "Oh, I understand. I was just saying that you must be Dean -- Cas told me you were staying with him for a while. I'm Daphne." She holds out her hand, and Dean shakes it.
"Yeah, I'm Dean. Good to meet you, Daphne. Cas mentioned you, but I've blanked. Professor?"
Daphne has a smile that could light a city block, and Dean's willing to bet she's the sweetest woman in this joint. Because she would have to be sweet. She was probably the opposite of Dean in every way -- devoted, open, kind. "Yes, religious studies. I was actually just passing through when I saw Cas here." She turns to Castiel with nothing but fondness on her face. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"
"Yes," Castiel says.
They kiss again, and Dean goes back to studying the texture of his fries. He chews on one, but he seems to have lost all sense of taste.
When she's gone, Castiel says, "Thank you for -- "
"Not a problem." He stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. "I'll get out of your hair." He knows he's not keeping his cool nearly as well as he should, but he would call it an admirable effort. He just keeps reminding himself that there's no use in getting mad.
"Dean -- "
"See you back at the apartment."
⊱⊰
Dean calls Sam three times on the bus, because he's enough of an adult to know when he needs to blow off some steam. He just hangs up each time it goes to voicemail.
The apartment is empty, and there are no cars to fix, and Dean is so angry that he wants to start throwing shit through windows. Instead he sits out the porch and eats another slice of pie. And maybe throws the fork off the side when no one is looking, as hard and fast as he can.
After an hour of staring at nothing and reviewing in his head over and over the things he would say if he weren't so terminally afraid of his feelings, Dean starts cleaning. It's not that he likes cleaning. It's just the closest thing Castiel's apartment has to fixing an engine.
He finds three different bongs in the living room, which he sets on the kitchen counter. At this point, it seems to be even odds as to whether they belong to Luke or Cas. There's a Whitman's box full of pot and other supplies under the couch that he doesn't move.
It's after dusk when someone finally comes home -- Luke and four other people. "Holy shit," a girl says, looking around so quickly that her hair bounces around her face. "Are we in the wrong place or did you hire a fucking housekeeper?"
"No." Luke catches sight of Dean on deck and goes, "What up, soldier. You a maid too?"
"No." Dean taps out his seventh text message to Sam. "Don't get used to it."
"Right-o. We brought back booze. You in?"
For a split second Dean almost forgets that he's currently hosting a parasite that's systematically ruining everything about his life. "Can't, sorry. Sobriety."
The word reminds him of the twine, so constant against his skin that he'd stopped thinking about it for months now. It yanks off with a brief snap. He then leans over to slide the door closed and settles a hand over where he imagines the baby rests. "Sorry."
It's after nine when Sam finally calls -- Luke and his friends are playing a loud music game in the living room, laughing like every moment is a riot, and Castiel is still nowhere to be seen. In Dean's head, he's having the most romantic sex of all time.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asks. "What's going on?"
Dean excuses himself to Castiel's room, which just hits that exposed anger that he's been nursing since lunch. "Cas is dating!"
"I -- What?" The tension leaves Sam's voice and instead he lets out a little breath. "I though you were dying or something. This is about Cas dating?"
"Yeah. He's got this girlfriend -- Daphne. I met her today. What am I even doing here?"
"Trying to keep your baby alive." Sam sucks in a quiet breath -- not quiet enough, he's getting rusty now that they're not doing field work anymore. "What does it matter if he's dating?"
"Don't try to fucking bait me, Sam, I know your conversation tricks."
"I'm just saying, what's the big deal?"
"I didn't date!"
"He didn't cheat on you, Dean."
Dean hangs up, because Sam was supposed to be on his side.
It's been a while since Dean has smoked, but the smell is wafting through the apartment and right now he wants anything to take the edge off his nerves. This is just another way that Castiel is wrecking his life.
He slams a window open and sets a box fan in the window to blow the air out.
Sam sends him a text message. Don't overreact.
Dean deletes it.
⊰ Chapter Five | Chapter Seven ⊱