I see a bad moon rising.
Title: Come on skinny love, just last the year
Pairing: Dean/Castiel; Dean/Anna; Dean/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I wrote it while I was drunk; AU.
Beta: greenelysium ♥
Word Count: 2894
Notes: written for a lovely anon who asked for "a Destiel College!AU based on Ke$ha's The Harold Song". I hope you like it! :D
The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.
(Blaise Pascal)
November
When he’s particularly drunk and talkative, Dean likes to say that Cas fell out of thin air and straight into his arms - which is almost true, considering that Castiel fell off the stairs and exactly on top of Dean. Small talk, a burger-based dinner, the rest is history. They weren’t searching for it. It just happened. For almost a year.
Then Lisa happened.
It’s not like Dean’s trying to blame the whole thing on Lisa, because Lisa is sweet and loving and caring and maybe a bit wild under the sheets but hey, Dean’s never been one to denigrate bendiness, especially when it comes to sex. But that’s beside the point. The point is he royally screwed up, and he’s not sure it’s entirely because of his blood alcohol level.
Thing is, Dean is a free spirit - a true one, with psychosomatic rushes in response to girls getting too clingy and frantic climbing of buildings when the angry boyfriend comes home. Dean’s a ladies’ man. He loves them and leaves them.
And then there’s Cas.
Sweet, cranky Cas, with his canvases and his oil colors and his hopelessly stained tee-shirts, and his brushes, stuffed anywhere in the everlasting chaos of his dorm room. And his deft - oh, so very deft - hands. Gentle and caring and warm or rough and focused and incredibly hot, take your pick. Everything conveniently wrapped up in blue eyes and black, constantly messy, hair.
Cas had been completely unplanned. A “small hitch”, Dean used to say to his brother, except no, not really. A small hitch is when you’re late for dinner and your tires deflate and you’re in the middle of a rural secondary road without cell phone coverage, okay, that’s a small hitch, not love.
Love is a fucking pain in the ass, if you ask Dean.
It compels you to give, and give, and give, and then you give some more until you’ve given everything and most of the time the other person just laughs at your stupidity and doesn’t give you anything in return. Love bleeds you dry and drives you nuts until you reach a point where you’d say or do anything for the other person.
Bitter? Dean? A little misogynistic? Maybe a teeny tiny bit.
Which is why he used to live according to the “love ‘em and leave ‘em” philosophy. And this is also why he knew what was gonna happen the exact moment Cas landed in his arms, expression appalled and an apology already on the tip of his tongue - apology followed by a dinner, a kiss in the hall of the Frat House and almost a year of picnics, sex, funny moments, social events and all that jazz who used to drive Dean crazy.
And that brings us back to Lisa.
As I was saying, Lisa is sweet, funny, cute, has amazing legs and soft, black hair, and she probably has the biggest crush on Dean since that girl in kindergarten who used to throw stuff at him in a weird attempt to make him understand she was in love with him, pigtails and fluffy skirt included.
And more importantly, Lisa didn’t just ask him a few hours ago to go to her parents for Christmas.
Lisa is also very convenient, you know, because she’s there, and she’s wearing a turquoise sheath dress with high heels and her hair smell like vanilla and she’s looking at him, lashes brushing on her cheeks, and her mouth is there, too, all lipstick smiles and how convenient is that? so Dean kisses her.
Everyone and their mother, on campus, know Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are a motherfucking item, and shame on you if you even try to flirt with one of them; there’s absolutely no way they’re gonna break up, they’re more solid than Mount Rushmore. Or maybe not.
In less than twenty minutes everyone and their mother, on campus, know Dean Winchester is currently eating Lisa Braeden’s face at Crowley’s party, and oh, look, Lisa is dragging Dean up the stairs and Dean is going with her and what happens behind closed doors at Crowley’s parties technically stays behind closed doors, but not this time, because apparently Lisa is one hell of a screamer.
Obviously Castiel, being this huge socialite and all, is the last one to know.
He’s sitting on Dean’s bed when he gets back, quietly staring at his joined hands. He just looks at Dean - or, well, Dean assumes he’s looking at him since Dean really can’t held Cas’ gaze right now, eyes too huge and sad and fucking blue, and then Castiel says “I’ll leave tomorrow, you’ll never have to hear from me again.” and he doesn’t answer, so Dean guesses that’s how it ends.
Except not, because if there’s one thing Dean’s good at, that’s being painfully wrong.
December
The thing about having a brother is, brothers are a pain in the ass, especially when they’re obnoxiously talkative and nauseatingly happy with the embodiment of the goddamned girl next door, and you are… well. Single. Because you screwed up.
No wonder Dean hates family reunions.
Things weren’t even that bad, actually. They started talking about college life and Jessie’s last exam, and after some pleasantries and girly small talk (with Sam, of course), Ellen started asking what happened to that sweet guy Dean used to talk about, and why didn’t you invite him over, and why don’t you want to talk about it, Dean, I thought you were happy Dean, what happened Dean, tell me everything Dean, why are you being snarky Dean, and don’t tell me to mind my own business boy, I took you in when you were a little disrespectful toad and I can throw you out anytime, Bobby don’t tell me to calm down, I’m perfectly calm, see? I’m fucking calm, Sam get out of the kitchen and ---- well.
Long story short, Dean’s currently barricaded in his room with a plate full of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, with only his memories as company. Again, no wonder Dean hates family reunions.
He remembers the time he wanted to be a doctor; he had forced the whole family to watch him perform an open craniotomy on a stuffed moose. Everyone had clapped and praised him for being such a good boy, and Ellen had baked a pie to celebrate the successful surgery.
He remembers the thin walls between his and Sam’s room, and the way he used to go to his brother when he heard him cry in the dead of night. He remembers Sam’s nightmares and then some nightmares of his own. Dad drinking himself into oblivion without giving a damn about his kids. He remembers the way his mother used to kiss him goodnight when he was a little kid.
He remembers people leaving and never staying, and Cassie, who had never wanted to be his, and his pathetic tentative attempt at becoming the perfect man so she wouldn’t abandon him, but surprise, she had left, like every other girl before her. And after. Like Anna, who had cradled his heart in her hands and squished it until there was nothing left of it. Of Dean.
He remembers Sam changing his plans, calling Jessie to warn her he wouldn’t be back till at least next week and then staying, and sleeping on the couch, considerate enough to pretend not to hear him cry.
He remembers Cas laughing, that evening at dinner. The way he had been so earnest and open about his passion for art, and the way he had been so quiet and focused the first time they had slept together. He remembers that first morning after, when he woke up with a warm body next to his.
He remembers Cas staying, then he falls asleep, trying not to think about how he was the one who didn’t stay, this time.
*
Spending Christmas with your family is a bit like playing Risk.
You walk on eggshells and think twice before opening your mouth, and when you end up saying the wrong thing regardless, the only way you can fix things is clean the soles of your shoes from all the eggshells you crushed, straighten your back and grow a pair. Be a man. Apologize.
Of course Ellen is bitter, at first, gives him the “I raised you” speech, plays the guilt-trip card, but it’s okay, Dean can handle it.
What he can’t handle is Ellen forcing him to tell her what happened to Cas, Bobby shaking his head and Sam almost yelling at him what an idiot he was for cheating on Cas like that. On Cas, of all people, Cas who never did anything except being awesome and understanding and a great boyfriend for Dean, and how much he didn’t deserve the treatment Dean gave him, and “if I were him I would have kicked your ass six ways till Sunday, because really, Lisa? What even, Dean, you don’t just go and cheat on your boyfriend like that”.
Oh, hey, here’s another thing Dean can’t handle: the truth.
However, it’s not until he’s home alone with Jess that it hits him. It’s a fucking epiphany, and it’s all because of Ke$ha, and how lame is that? But yeah, whatever, an epiphany is still an epiphany, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, etcetera etcetera.
When do you get to be enough? How do you know when you’re enough for another person, they’re not gonna walk out on you and leave you alone to pick up the pieces and possibly try to move on with your life?
It’s not like you can ask, you know, that would be very rude and inappropriate, and also very pointless since words are fickle and fake and useless and they often fail to properly convey thoughts. Sure, Eskimos have like a hundred words for “snow” but Dean’s a hundred percent positive there are not enough languages in the world to properly express how he feels.
His head is messy, full of stuff and memories he doesn’t want, regret and guilt and mistakes and wrong choices, so many wrong choices he genuinely has no idea how he’s still alive after all the crap he’s done, but somehow, somehow Cas found his place in there and made his nest, entering Dean’s life with the force of a tornado and planting roots like a secular tree.
Roots are best known for being deep and intricate and very solid, so you can’t just go and cut the visible part of the tree - the roots will still be there, still growing; you have to actually eradicate the goddamn tree, but Dean has a feeling that wouldn’t be enough, because Cas has a funny way of storming into your life and brand you as his and never let you go, even if you try to eradicate him or forget him or whatever, Dean’s at loss for words and metaphors right now but the point is there, crystal clear in his mind.
Cas was enough.
And maybe - just maybe - Dean was enough for Cas, too, because he never said anything about leaving or wanting to meet other people, but the question is still the same. How do you know when and if you’re enough?
Dean’s not enough for himself, let alone someone else.
Oddly enough, though, his messy self managed to be enough for someone as special as Castiel and Dean threw away everything.
Dean doesn’t believe in forever, but he believes in staying. Holding on and being there for the other when they need you; Cas was all this and even more, so why did he leave? How was he so blind not to realize Cas wasn’t going anywhere? Right now, right now he could be in Vermont with Cas and his incredibly enlarged family and instead he’s sitting in Bobby’s living room with Jess, listening to Ke$ha blab about how much she misses soft lips and unshaved faces and what a fucking gargantuan mistake she made in letting the love of her life go.
“Will you excuse me for a second?” he says, and with this he grabs the keys of the Impala and leaves for FSD, ready to catch the first flight for Stowe, Vermont. Or, well, you know, the closest city he can get to, Stowe being a small town and all.
But that’s beside the point.
*
“I really don’t think so,” says a small guy after storming out of the door.
Well, okay, it’s not like Dean was expecting fanfares and ‘welcome back’ banners, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this tiny human with a candy cane in his hand and a grim look on his face.
“I’m, I’m Dean, I came here for-”
“I couldn’t care less. Get out of my yard, the gardener came this morning,” says another guy, blond hair and a glass of something in his hand.
“I just wanted to-”
“Go away? Yes, that would be appreciated.” It’s a woman, this time, and Dean is starting to feel a bit lost because how many siblings can one have? and he’s wondering if he should just turn on his heels and go back to where he came from, maybe search for a motel, when Castiel steps on the porch, face very red and embarrassed.
“Would you all mind going back in and let me handle this?”
Everyone gets back in the house and he’s suddenly alone with Cas. He gestures towards the Impala and Castiel follows him, wary look on his face. When they’re inside, Dean turns the stereo on and Ke$ha’s song start playing, Cas glaring at him.
“This isn’t funny, Dean.”
“Do me a favor and just listen, okay?”
There’s a part of him - a sarcastic but sadly accurate one - who wonders why Cas should do him a favor after what happened, but apparently Cas is always the kind one so he listens to the song without arguing.
Once it’s over, the silence fills the car and Dean is itching to reach out and touch Cas’ wrist, but he doesn’t, because Cas is looking at him with a sad look on his face.
“Why did you make me suffer through this?”
Dean doesn’t know whether Cas is talking about Lisa or the song, so he doesn’t exactly answers. He just opens his mouth, letting his brain take over. “I was a dick. I was scared and I was a dick and I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry, I was a dick, and I don’t care about anything else, I just want you back.”
“You can’t do this, Dean, you can’t come here and force me to listen to pop music and say these things.”
He’s fidgeting with one of his cuffs, pointedly staring anywhere but at Dean, and maybe he deserves this, or maybe not, but at this point there’s not much he can do to change the status quo.
“Gabriel, told me. He heard it from his girlfriend.”
Dean lowers his eyes and starts staring at his shoes for a change.
“If I were to paint you,” says Castiel, “I wouldn’t know where to start. You’re a mess, and the colors… the colors are all wrong. Usually when I look at a person I see their color, but when I look at you… your colors are all over the place, Dean, one moment you’re red and the next you’re blue and I don’t know if I-”
Dean is not entirely sure he wants to hear the next words, so he grabs Cas by the hem of his vest and kisses him, pressing their lips together and swallowing the next words. Castiel shifts, tugging at Dean’s jacket and bringing him closer.
“You’re an idiot, Dean,” goes on Cas, mouth biting at Dean’s neck, “And I can’t understand you, and you don’t look like anyone I’ve ever met, and I want to keep you, but I can’t because you keep slipping through my fingers---” and then they’re kissing again, Cas almost on top of him, and this is possibly wrong (or at least very awkward, considering that Castiel’s family is probably watching them) but Dean doesn’t care.
“No more slipping. I promise.”
They keep kissing until one of Cas’ brothers - Balthazar - knocks on the windshields telling them to get a room.
*
Epilogue
When he’s particularly drunk and talkative, Dean likes to say that Cas fell out of thin air and straight into his arms - which is almost true, considering that Castiel fell off the stairs and exactly on top of Dean. Small talk, a burger-based dinner, the rest is history. They weren’t searching for it. It just happened. For almost a year.
Life kind of got in the way, at that point - it still happens, sometimes, when they’re both tired or stressed out because of exams. One of them says the wrong thing at the wrong time and all of a sudden they’re fighting and swearing that this is the last time, and cursing the day they fell in love, and yelling general unpleasantries to the four walls of their room, but by now Dean has developed an amazing and infallible way of dealing with life.
He lets everything go to Hell. Then he stays, and he fixes what’s broken.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel; Dean/Anna; Dean/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I wrote it while I was drunk; AU.
Beta: greenelysium ♥
Word Count: 2894
Notes: written for a lovely anon who asked for "a Destiel College!AU based on Ke$ha's The Harold Song". I hope you like it! :D
The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.
(Blaise Pascal)
November
When he’s particularly drunk and talkative, Dean likes to say that Cas fell out of thin air and straight into his arms - which is almost true, considering that Castiel fell off the stairs and exactly on top of Dean. Small talk, a burger-based dinner, the rest is history. They weren’t searching for it. It just happened. For almost a year.
Then Lisa happened.
It’s not like Dean’s trying to blame the whole thing on Lisa, because Lisa is sweet and loving and caring and maybe a bit wild under the sheets but hey, Dean’s never been one to denigrate bendiness, especially when it comes to sex. But that’s beside the point. The point is he royally screwed up, and he’s not sure it’s entirely because of his blood alcohol level.
Thing is, Dean is a free spirit - a true one, with psychosomatic rushes in response to girls getting too clingy and frantic climbing of buildings when the angry boyfriend comes home. Dean’s a ladies’ man. He loves them and leaves them.
And then there’s Cas.
Sweet, cranky Cas, with his canvases and his oil colors and his hopelessly stained tee-shirts, and his brushes, stuffed anywhere in the everlasting chaos of his dorm room. And his deft - oh, so very deft - hands. Gentle and caring and warm or rough and focused and incredibly hot, take your pick. Everything conveniently wrapped up in blue eyes and black, constantly messy, hair.
Cas had been completely unplanned. A “small hitch”, Dean used to say to his brother, except no, not really. A small hitch is when you’re late for dinner and your tires deflate and you’re in the middle of a rural secondary road without cell phone coverage, okay, that’s a small hitch, not love.
Love is a fucking pain in the ass, if you ask Dean.
It compels you to give, and give, and give, and then you give some more until you’ve given everything and most of the time the other person just laughs at your stupidity and doesn’t give you anything in return. Love bleeds you dry and drives you nuts until you reach a point where you’d say or do anything for the other person.
Bitter? Dean? A little misogynistic? Maybe a teeny tiny bit.
Which is why he used to live according to the “love ‘em and leave ‘em” philosophy. And this is also why he knew what was gonna happen the exact moment Cas landed in his arms, expression appalled and an apology already on the tip of his tongue - apology followed by a dinner, a kiss in the hall of the Frat House and almost a year of picnics, sex, funny moments, social events and all that jazz who used to drive Dean crazy.
And that brings us back to Lisa.
As I was saying, Lisa is sweet, funny, cute, has amazing legs and soft, black hair, and she probably has the biggest crush on Dean since that girl in kindergarten who used to throw stuff at him in a weird attempt to make him understand she was in love with him, pigtails and fluffy skirt included.
And more importantly, Lisa didn’t just ask him a few hours ago to go to her parents for Christmas.
Lisa is also very convenient, you know, because she’s there, and she’s wearing a turquoise sheath dress with high heels and her hair smell like vanilla and she’s looking at him, lashes brushing on her cheeks, and her mouth is there, too, all lipstick smiles and how convenient is that? so Dean kisses her.
Everyone and their mother, on campus, know Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are a motherfucking item, and shame on you if you even try to flirt with one of them; there’s absolutely no way they’re gonna break up, they’re more solid than Mount Rushmore. Or maybe not.
In less than twenty minutes everyone and their mother, on campus, know Dean Winchester is currently eating Lisa Braeden’s face at Crowley’s party, and oh, look, Lisa is dragging Dean up the stairs and Dean is going with her and what happens behind closed doors at Crowley’s parties technically stays behind closed doors, but not this time, because apparently Lisa is one hell of a screamer.
Obviously Castiel, being this huge socialite and all, is the last one to know.
He’s sitting on Dean’s bed when he gets back, quietly staring at his joined hands. He just looks at Dean - or, well, Dean assumes he’s looking at him since Dean really can’t held Cas’ gaze right now, eyes too huge and sad and fucking blue, and then Castiel says “I’ll leave tomorrow, you’ll never have to hear from me again.” and he doesn’t answer, so Dean guesses that’s how it ends.
Except not, because if there’s one thing Dean’s good at, that’s being painfully wrong.
December
The thing about having a brother is, brothers are a pain in the ass, especially when they’re obnoxiously talkative and nauseatingly happy with the embodiment of the goddamned girl next door, and you are… well. Single. Because you screwed up.
No wonder Dean hates family reunions.
Things weren’t even that bad, actually. They started talking about college life and Jessie’s last exam, and after some pleasantries and girly small talk (with Sam, of course), Ellen started asking what happened to that sweet guy Dean used to talk about, and why didn’t you invite him over, and why don’t you want to talk about it, Dean, I thought you were happy Dean, what happened Dean, tell me everything Dean, why are you being snarky Dean, and don’t tell me to mind my own business boy, I took you in when you were a little disrespectful toad and I can throw you out anytime, Bobby don’t tell me to calm down, I’m perfectly calm, see? I’m fucking calm, Sam get out of the kitchen and ---- well.
Long story short, Dean’s currently barricaded in his room with a plate full of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, with only his memories as company. Again, no wonder Dean hates family reunions.
He remembers the time he wanted to be a doctor; he had forced the whole family to watch him perform an open craniotomy on a stuffed moose. Everyone had clapped and praised him for being such a good boy, and Ellen had baked a pie to celebrate the successful surgery.
He remembers the thin walls between his and Sam’s room, and the way he used to go to his brother when he heard him cry in the dead of night. He remembers Sam’s nightmares and then some nightmares of his own. Dad drinking himself into oblivion without giving a damn about his kids. He remembers the way his mother used to kiss him goodnight when he was a little kid.
He remembers people leaving and never staying, and Cassie, who had never wanted to be his, and his pathetic tentative attempt at becoming the perfect man so she wouldn’t abandon him, but surprise, she had left, like every other girl before her. And after. Like Anna, who had cradled his heart in her hands and squished it until there was nothing left of it. Of Dean.
He remembers Sam changing his plans, calling Jessie to warn her he wouldn’t be back till at least next week and then staying, and sleeping on the couch, considerate enough to pretend not to hear him cry.
He remembers Cas laughing, that evening at dinner. The way he had been so earnest and open about his passion for art, and the way he had been so quiet and focused the first time they had slept together. He remembers that first morning after, when he woke up with a warm body next to his.
He remembers Cas staying, then he falls asleep, trying not to think about how he was the one who didn’t stay, this time.
*
Spending Christmas with your family is a bit like playing Risk.
You walk on eggshells and think twice before opening your mouth, and when you end up saying the wrong thing regardless, the only way you can fix things is clean the soles of your shoes from all the eggshells you crushed, straighten your back and grow a pair. Be a man. Apologize.
Of course Ellen is bitter, at first, gives him the “I raised you” speech, plays the guilt-trip card, but it’s okay, Dean can handle it.
What he can’t handle is Ellen forcing him to tell her what happened to Cas, Bobby shaking his head and Sam almost yelling at him what an idiot he was for cheating on Cas like that. On Cas, of all people, Cas who never did anything except being awesome and understanding and a great boyfriend for Dean, and how much he didn’t deserve the treatment Dean gave him, and “if I were him I would have kicked your ass six ways till Sunday, because really, Lisa? What even, Dean, you don’t just go and cheat on your boyfriend like that”.
Oh, hey, here’s another thing Dean can’t handle: the truth.
However, it’s not until he’s home alone with Jess that it hits him. It’s a fucking epiphany, and it’s all because of Ke$ha, and how lame is that? But yeah, whatever, an epiphany is still an epiphany, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, etcetera etcetera.
When do you get to be enough? How do you know when you’re enough for another person, they’re not gonna walk out on you and leave you alone to pick up the pieces and possibly try to move on with your life?
It’s not like you can ask, you know, that would be very rude and inappropriate, and also very pointless since words are fickle and fake and useless and they often fail to properly convey thoughts. Sure, Eskimos have like a hundred words for “snow” but Dean’s a hundred percent positive there are not enough languages in the world to properly express how he feels.
His head is messy, full of stuff and memories he doesn’t want, regret and guilt and mistakes and wrong choices, so many wrong choices he genuinely has no idea how he’s still alive after all the crap he’s done, but somehow, somehow Cas found his place in there and made his nest, entering Dean’s life with the force of a tornado and planting roots like a secular tree.
Roots are best known for being deep and intricate and very solid, so you can’t just go and cut the visible part of the tree - the roots will still be there, still growing; you have to actually eradicate the goddamn tree, but Dean has a feeling that wouldn’t be enough, because Cas has a funny way of storming into your life and brand you as his and never let you go, even if you try to eradicate him or forget him or whatever, Dean’s at loss for words and metaphors right now but the point is there, crystal clear in his mind.
Cas was enough.
And maybe - just maybe - Dean was enough for Cas, too, because he never said anything about leaving or wanting to meet other people, but the question is still the same. How do you know when and if you’re enough?
Dean’s not enough for himself, let alone someone else.
Oddly enough, though, his messy self managed to be enough for someone as special as Castiel and Dean threw away everything.
Dean doesn’t believe in forever, but he believes in staying. Holding on and being there for the other when they need you; Cas was all this and even more, so why did he leave? How was he so blind not to realize Cas wasn’t going anywhere? Right now, right now he could be in Vermont with Cas and his incredibly enlarged family and instead he’s sitting in Bobby’s living room with Jess, listening to Ke$ha blab about how much she misses soft lips and unshaved faces and what a fucking gargantuan mistake she made in letting the love of her life go.
“Will you excuse me for a second?” he says, and with this he grabs the keys of the Impala and leaves for FSD, ready to catch the first flight for Stowe, Vermont. Or, well, you know, the closest city he can get to, Stowe being a small town and all.
But that’s beside the point.
*
“I really don’t think so,” says a small guy after storming out of the door.
Well, okay, it’s not like Dean was expecting fanfares and ‘welcome back’ banners, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this tiny human with a candy cane in his hand and a grim look on his face.
“I’m, I’m Dean, I came here for-”
“I couldn’t care less. Get out of my yard, the gardener came this morning,” says another guy, blond hair and a glass of something in his hand.
“I just wanted to-”
“Go away? Yes, that would be appreciated.” It’s a woman, this time, and Dean is starting to feel a bit lost because how many siblings can one have? and he’s wondering if he should just turn on his heels and go back to where he came from, maybe search for a motel, when Castiel steps on the porch, face very red and embarrassed.
“Would you all mind going back in and let me handle this?”
Everyone gets back in the house and he’s suddenly alone with Cas. He gestures towards the Impala and Castiel follows him, wary look on his face. When they’re inside, Dean turns the stereo on and Ke$ha’s song start playing, Cas glaring at him.
“This isn’t funny, Dean.”
“Do me a favor and just listen, okay?”
There’s a part of him - a sarcastic but sadly accurate one - who wonders why Cas should do him a favor after what happened, but apparently Cas is always the kind one so he listens to the song without arguing.
Once it’s over, the silence fills the car and Dean is itching to reach out and touch Cas’ wrist, but he doesn’t, because Cas is looking at him with a sad look on his face.
“Why did you make me suffer through this?”
Dean doesn’t know whether Cas is talking about Lisa or the song, so he doesn’t exactly answers. He just opens his mouth, letting his brain take over. “I was a dick. I was scared and I was a dick and I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry, I was a dick, and I don’t care about anything else, I just want you back.”
“You can’t do this, Dean, you can’t come here and force me to listen to pop music and say these things.”
He’s fidgeting with one of his cuffs, pointedly staring anywhere but at Dean, and maybe he deserves this, or maybe not, but at this point there’s not much he can do to change the status quo.
“Gabriel, told me. He heard it from his girlfriend.”
Dean lowers his eyes and starts staring at his shoes for a change.
“If I were to paint you,” says Castiel, “I wouldn’t know where to start. You’re a mess, and the colors… the colors are all wrong. Usually when I look at a person I see their color, but when I look at you… your colors are all over the place, Dean, one moment you’re red and the next you’re blue and I don’t know if I-”
Dean is not entirely sure he wants to hear the next words, so he grabs Cas by the hem of his vest and kisses him, pressing their lips together and swallowing the next words. Castiel shifts, tugging at Dean’s jacket and bringing him closer.
“You’re an idiot, Dean,” goes on Cas, mouth biting at Dean’s neck, “And I can’t understand you, and you don’t look like anyone I’ve ever met, and I want to keep you, but I can’t because you keep slipping through my fingers---” and then they’re kissing again, Cas almost on top of him, and this is possibly wrong (or at least very awkward, considering that Castiel’s family is probably watching them) but Dean doesn’t care.
“No more slipping. I promise.”
They keep kissing until one of Cas’ brothers - Balthazar - knocks on the windshields telling them to get a room.
*
Epilogue
When he’s particularly drunk and talkative, Dean likes to say that Cas fell out of thin air and straight into his arms - which is almost true, considering that Castiel fell off the stairs and exactly on top of Dean. Small talk, a burger-based dinner, the rest is history. They weren’t searching for it. It just happened. For almost a year.
Life kind of got in the way, at that point - it still happens, sometimes, when they’re both tired or stressed out because of exams. One of them says the wrong thing at the wrong time and all of a sudden they’re fighting and swearing that this is the last time, and cursing the day they fell in love, and yelling general unpleasantries to the four walls of their room, but by now Dean has developed an amazing and infallible way of dealing with life.
He lets everything go to Hell. Then he stays, and he fixes what’s broken.