Jump the Track: Chapter 11 (part 2)
Title - Jump the Track
Chapter - 11 (part 2)
Author - lafleurdumal85
Rating - NC-17
Summary - High school AU. It's Dean's senior year at Lawrence High, and he's already given up on himself. It takes the arrival of the strange, intense, awkward Castiel Delacroix at the school to prove to Dean that maybe his life is worth saving after all.
Chapter warnings - language, angst, post-coital snuggling
Spoilers - References to characters from seasons 1-6. Apart from that, it's completely AU.
Castiel wasn’t at school the next day, nor the day after that. Dean had tried texting him, had tried calling, but it had gone
straight to voicemail. Whatever Dean had to say, Cas clearly didn’t want to know. The worst of it was that he hadn’t understood. He hadn’t seen why Dean was so scared of people knowing, why he’d been so desperate to hide it. He hadn’t understood, and he wasn’t giving Dean the chance to explain. He oscillated between anger at the other boy and a desperation that left him breathless, that made him want to drive over to Castiel’s house and fight his way in to see him, the rest of his family be damned.
By Thursday, Dean was so sick with it that the thought of going into school was impossible. His mom had let him stay home, and he curled up on the couch watching crappy daytime TV shows. Jo had come over in the evening to report that Cas still wasn’t at school, and that she hadn’t been able to get in touch with him either. Dean had waited until she left before crawling into bed, pulling the covers up over his head and crying. He felt like his source of oxygen had been cut off. The one good thing in his life, the one thing that had made Dean feel good about himself, that had made him feel like he could turn things around and actually be happy again, and he’d screwed it up. And all over some stupid misunderstanding. He remembered gratefully that he’d saved a bottle of scotch in the back of his closet, and he drank until he couldn’t feel anymore.
Friday was Sam’s birthday. Dean still couldn’t go to school, arguing to his parents that he’d caught some virus. The fact that he’d been throwing up all morning was pretty good support to the lie, and he hoped that they didn’t realize that it was all alcohol related rather than gastric flu. He feared that Mary had her suspicions. Crappy as he felt, Dean dragged himself out of bed in the afternoon and helped his dad set up the barbeque in the back garden. He didn’t want to spoil things for his brother, and felt like he should at least pretend to have a good time.
By the end of the evening, Dean’s face was aching from his fake smile. Sam had been too busy geeking out over his new books and the David Attenborough box set he’d been given to notice, but Dean noticed Mary shooting him anxious looks. He was pretty much over his hangover which was a shame: it had been a good distraction from Castiel.
Jo found him in the kitchen where he’d gone to hide.
She leaned up against the counter opposite him. “I feel I should warn you that our mothers are discussing your love life.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “What love life?”
Jo poked him with the toe of her shoe. “Buck up, champ. You guys are gonna work it out. I hate to say it, but you’re sickeningly good together.”
“Maybe if I wasn’t such a fuck-up.”
Jo did something then that she did very rarely: she threw her arms around Dean and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, not caring that he was being a baby. Jo didn’t hug very much, but when she did, she really meant it, and made Dean appreciate it all the more.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jo mumbled from somewhere below Dean’s chin. “He’ll come around, you’ll apologize, and you’ll drive off into the sunset together.”
“Yeah, or he’ll drive off into the sunset to go to fucking Cornell and have an amazing life and meet someone who isn’t having a sexual identity crisis, and I’ll be left here to remember how I had something amazing for a while but was too fucking dumb to hold onto it.”
Jo pulled away and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Dean, drama queen much?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot for a minute that you are a heartless bitch.”
Jo bumped him with her shoulder. “Come on, I’m serious. It’s going to be okay.”
Dean grimaced. He was on the point of saying that it was probably all for the best, that Cas deserved someone better, that Dean would just screw things up anyway. But he didn’t. He knew it wasn’t for the fucking best. He knew it was an insult to what they had to say that, that things had been better for Cas as well as for him when they were together, and he’d managed to spoil it. If only Castiel would listen to him, give him another chance, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t do to fix it.
“Pam’s coming over tonight,” Jo continued. “We’re going to eat junk food and have a TV marathon. You should come over. We’re gonna watch America’s Next Top Model. You know you secretly love America’s Next Top Model.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I really do.”
“And then there’s the next episode of Doctor Sexy. And True Blood re-runs.”
Dean managed a smile. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll be there. But only if you guys don’t tell anyone about ANTM. Or Doctor Sexy either, actually.”
Jo snorted. “I’ll take it to the grave.”
...
Dean woke up early on Saturday morning, not able to sleep well, his heart still full of that leaden feeling. He dressed and went down to put on some coffee. Maybe working at the garage would help. It would at least give him something to think about other than Castiel, and how badly he’d screwed everything up. To his surprise, his mother was already in the kitchen, and there was a mug of steaming black coffee waiting for him.
Mary smiled when he came in. “Good morning.”
“Mom! I… you didn’t have to do this.”
She laughed. “Well, I can never sleep after your dad’s up. He’s not exactly quiet in the mornings.”
Dean laughed half-heartedly.
“Dean… is everything all right?”
“Sure!” he said, forcing a bright smile. “I’m… I’m gonna drink this outside.” He picked up the coffee mug and went out the back door. There was a bench overlooking the garden, and Dean sat down, closing his eyes. The rising sun was pleasantly warm on his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Mary had come out to join him. Dean would have been annoyed, but he suddenly felt that he really didn’t want to be alone after all. The urge to talk to someone was almost overwhelming. It made his heart beat painfully to think of confiding in anyone about his relationship with Castiel, but he felt like if he didn’t he might just explode.
“Mind if I join you?” Mary said.
Dean shook his head, and she sat down beside him. Neither of them spoke at first, sipping their coffee, watching the light stretch out across the grass. Dean cleared his throat nervously.
“Mom, there’s… I guess you’ve already figured out that I’ve been seeing someone. And I really like them. More than like.” Dean stared into his coffee cup as though it had the answers to the universe. It was that time of morning he loved - when it was still early enough for everything to have a golden haze around it. It didn’t seem right somehow that everything could be this beautiful when Dean was feeling this bad. Mary sat beside him on the bench, silently waiting for him to continue. That’s what he liked best about his mother - unlike John, she didn’t push. He took another sip of coffee. “And… and this person is, well, they’re not anything like someone I’d expect to, you know, have feelings for. I mean, they’re completely unsuitable for me in so many ways, and I know no one else is gonna get it, but I… but I…” Dean lost courage.
Mary slipped her hand around his arm and gave it a little squeeze. “Dean. I think Castiel is a lovely boy.”
Dean almost dropped his mug in surprise. He snapped his head round to look at his mother, who was smiling at him tenderly. “You… you knew?”
She gave a small shrug. “A mother picks up on these things. There was the way he looked at you. The way you looked at him. And, of course, the fact that a couple of months ago you decided to start ‘studying’ in your bedroom with the door shut.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, I think I’m the only one who’s noticed.”
Dean looked away. He wanted to say something, but there was a lump in his throat.
“He’s been good for you. Sweetheart, I was so worried about you. Over the last year I’ve watched as you got closer and closer to giving up on yourself. I tried to help you but you wouldn’t let me, and I was scared that you’d… I don’t know. But since the accident you’ve been… you’ve been getting like your old self again, and I know that a lot of that has to do with Castiel. Dean, love isn’t predictable. Sometimes it appears in unlikely forms. And maybe you’re right and other people won’t understand it, but I do. And I’m sure that anyone who knows you and loves you will as well. So isn’t that all that matters?”
Dean took a deep, steadying breath. “Mom, I’ve screwed up.” He squinted into the rising sun, not trusting himself to look at her.
“What happened?”
“Someone asked me if Cas and I were… were together, and I said no. Pretty emphatically. He’s so mad at me, Mom. I mean, he won’t even speak to me. He thinks that I’m ashamed. But… but it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’m scared about people finding out, but it’s got nothing to do with… with how I feel about him or about what we have. It’s…”
“What?”
“He is so damn innocent. I mean, he’s possibly the smartest person I’ve ever met, and he can sure as hell take care of himself, I’m not worried about him in that respect. But he… he’s not had to deal with people before. He doesn’t know what they’re like. And what we have, it’s… it’s beautiful and good and… and ours. And I feel like he thinks that if we announce it to the world, everyone’s gonna see that. He doesn’t understand how they’d take what we have and turn it into… into something dirty or something to be laughed at. He doesn’t see how they’d try to rip it to shreds, and while it might not break us apart, I… I know how much it would hurt him. And he can’t understand that I’d do anything to protect him from that.” Dean was crying now, but he was beyond caring.
Mary put her arms around him and held him close, and Dean rested his head on her shoulder, wishing that he was a child again and that all his problems could be solved with a hug.
“Sweetheart, you have to tell him.”
“I tried, Mom, but he won’t talk to me. He’s not even answering his phone. He hates me.”
“No he doesn’t, he’s just feeling hurt and confused. And if you give up now, it’ll only hurt him more. You have to make him listen.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. Making Castiel do something was not exactly a simple matter.
“There was this one time back when your dad and I were dating and we had this huge fight. God, I can’t even remember what it was about now. But I was mad. I wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t talk to him, I… I may have threatened him with a shotgun when he tried to come to my house.”
“You what?”
“Well, I was a little wild when I was younger. Anyway, the point is that he didn’t give up. And eventually I heard him out because no matter how angry I was, I loved him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten so angry in the first place. And obviously, he won me over. If he’d given up… well, I probably would’ve been too proud to go to him of my own accord. See, nothing that’s worth having comes for free. You have to fight for it. And it’s scary, and you’re putting yourself on the line, and sometimes you feel like it’s all going to come to nothing, but you have to keep fighting. You have to.”
“Dean!” John’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Dean, where are you? Time to get going!”
Dean hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and got to his feet. “Coming!” he called.
“You will try, won’t you?” Mary said.
Dean nodded. “Mom, you… you won’t tell Dad about any of this will you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“Thanks. And… thanks.”
...
Dean worked well that day. It was good to have something manual to do, it took him out of himself, gave him something to focus on. Also it felt nice to assure himself that he didn’t fuck everything up: Dean was a damn good mechanic. His dad had put him to work on a truck today, letting him do most of the work himself, and Dean was in his element. It hadn’t ever occurred to him that this was a sign of intelligence, that he could take a machine apart and put it back together again, that he could tell what was wrong with a car just from listening to the motor. It was just something he did. No big deal.
He worked past home time, telling Bobby that he wanted to finish up on the truck that night. John had gone off to one of Ellen’s infamous poker nights, and Dean just hoped that his dad wouldn’t gamble away his pants like he had last time after he’d run out of dollar bills. Mary had laughed herself silly. Sam and Dean thought they would never live down the image of their dad walking down the street in his underwear.
Dean was alone in the garage; Bobby had wandered off to the back office some time ago, grumbling about the shitload of receipts he had to process. It had always made Dean laugh, how Bobby and his dad put off doing the paperwork until the last possible minute, and always fought about whose turn it was like some old married couple.
Dean worked on, his mind soothed by the feeling of fixing something, putting it right.
Anna had to clear her throat twice before he realized that she was there.
When he finally did look up, he felt like his stomach was going to fall out, and he dropped the wrench he’d been holding. Anna jumped a little as it clattered to the floor, and Dean knew just from looking at her that something bad had happened.
“Tell me,” he rasped.
She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes, and for the first time Dean could see the family resemblance with Cas.
“Castiel’s left and I don’t know where he’s gone,” she whispered. “They... they kicked him out.”
Dean’s legs gave out a little, and he sat down on the hood of the truck. He thought for a moment that he was going to pass out.
“I’ve only just managed to get away,” Anna gabbled. “They don’t know that I’ve gone, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back to that house, not after the way they treated Castiel. They... Dean, he told them. On Monday night, he told them he was gay. My dad just started yelling at him about abominations against nature, and how he was playing into the devil’s hands, and then he shut Cas up in his room and took away his cell phone and wouldn’t let him out. Michael just sat there, not saying anything. He was so scary, and my dad kept talking about sending Cas away to some camp and getting him fixed. Like there was something wrong with him. They wouldn’t even let me see him. Then today, they went to talk to him and persuade him that he was sinning in the eyes of God, but Cas said that Zachariah was the one who was sinning by being so full of hate, and that he wasn’t going to any camp, he was going to college, and he wasn’t going to be ashamed of who he was anymore. And then Michael hit him, and... and told him to get out. They didn’t even let him pack or anything, I... he doesn’t have his cell, he’s barely had any food, he’s...”
Anna held out Castiel’s phone, trying to stop her tears, and Dean took it with shaking hands.
“He didn’t say it was you,” she continued quietly. “He never said. I knew it couldn’t be anyone else though; I knew he was in love with you from the very first time he brought you home. I... I didn’t think he’d ever have the guts to tell them.”
Dean nodded numbly. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “Anna, do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t have any money. He didn’t have anything. I tried to go after him but my father wouldn’t let me, and I...” She bit her lip, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
Dean’s brain was already racing, trying to think of all the possible places that Castiel could have gone for refuge. The empty house was the first to spring to mind, but would Cas even have the key? If he’d been kicked out with nothing, it wasn’t likely. Then there was the school, the library, the park... Dean’s thoughts were tripping over each other. His mom would be able to help. He was suddenly infinitely grateful that Mary knew everything now; she’d be able to think about this calmly and rationally.
“I have to go,” Dean rasped, his hands shaking so badly it was impossible to hold them steady.
She nodded. “I’m not going back. There’s no fucking way I’m going back after this. I’ve saved up a little and I’m going to San Francisco. I’m going to go and find my uncle Luke.”
“I have to go,” Dean said again, backing towards the Impala.
“I know. Me too, I... I don’t want them catching up with me. Call me when you find Castiel, okay? He’ll know how to get in touch.”
It wasn’t until later that it occurred to Dean that he hadn’t stopped to ask her if she’d be okay, or if she needed a lift anywhere. His thoughts had been too occupied with worry about Castiel to even consider anything else. But then he reasoned that Anna seemed like the kind of girl who could take care of herself. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d offered to help find her cousin, in spite of all her tears. She’d just wanted to get out of there. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to think badly of her for it; he knew better than most that misery could make you callous.
Dean drove home on autopilot, the fear of being stopped by the cops and held up further the only thing keeping him just a little over the speed limit. He was too panicked, he couldn’t think straight. His mom would know what to do. Mary would help him find Castiel, then Dean would explain everything, and it would all be better again. That was the one thought that kept him from spiraling into full-on panic, the one thought that allowed him to get home in one piece.
Only when Dean crashed into the kitchen, it became apparent that no search party was necessary. Castiel was sitting at the table opposite Dean’s mother, his hands clasped around a steaming mug of tea.
“Cas?” Dean choked, relief making his knees weak.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Castiel said, not looking at Dean. Dean could see the livid bruise that was forming on Castiel’s right cheekbone, and he wanted to kill Michael.
“You’re always welcome here,” Mary told him gently.
“Of course,” Dean breathed, feeling beyond awful that Cas wouldn’t even look at him, when all Dean wanted was to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. He guessed he wasn’t allowed to right now, and balked at the thought that he might never be allowed again.
Mary shot him a quick glance. “You’ll be in Dean’s room, if that’s all right. We don’t have a spare bedroom, I’m afraid, but there’s a camp bed we can put up and plenty of spare blankets. If you need it.”
Castiel nodded abruptly. “I’m just... very tired.”
“I’ll go set it up,” Dean whispered, suddenly not able to be in the room anymore. The fold-out bed was ancient, and he trapped his fingers in the springs when he opened it up, making him swear under his breath. At least the pain gave him something to focus on, because he felt like he was going to choke with desperation. The thought of Castiel not wanting him, even now, made his chest tight and his hands shake. He tried to think of what he could say to convince Cas that he was sorry, that they could work things out. He fucking hated how much he sucked at this.
By the time he got back from the linen closet with some clean blankets, Castiel was standing apprehensively in the doorway to his bedroom. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said again, looking at Dean’s knees.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your hair,” Dean snapped, misery making him bitter. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else.”
“That wasn’t what I...” Castiel sighed.
“Anna told me what happened.” It was easier to concentrate on making up the bed, because at least then he had his back to Cas and wasn’t constantly made aware that the guy couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. “She came to the garage and told me. She gave me this.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out Cas’s phone, handing it over.
“Thank you.”
“You can take my bed,” Dean said, finally facing the other boy.
Castiel did look at him then, surprised and pained. “No, Dean, I couldn’t possibly-”
“Forget about it,” Dean said, waving his hand dismissively. “Take the bed; I’m fine on this.” He wasn’t about to bring up the fact that his bed could easily fit two. He didn’t think it would be a welcome observation.
Castiel shuffled over to the bed awkwardly, clutching his restored cell phone like some kind of talisman. “Um, I didn’t have anything with me when I left...”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Dean opened a drawer and pulled out some sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “Here. I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll give you some space.”
“Thank you,” Castiel whispered miserably.
Dean ran the shower as hot as he could take it. It was the best way of getting engine grease off, and it made him feel stronger, less shaky, as the hot streams of water ran almost painfully over his neck and down his back. It made him think a little less. He’d thought that it would be easy if he could just see Cas again and have the chance to talk to him. He’d been pretty fucking wrong.
He toweled himself off and slipped on some drawstring pants. He told himself that it was ridiculous to be nervous about going back into his own bedroom.
When he cautiously opened the door a couple of minutes later, Castiel was already in his bed and under the covers.
“You okay?” Dean asked gruffly.
Castiel glanced up at him and nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m just... I’m really cold.” He pulled the blankets up higher and turned towards the wall.
“Of course not.” Dean stared at Castiel’s back miserably for a few seconds. “Cas, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Castiel turned over to face him, his eyelashes wet. “Please don’t”
Dean’s heart clenched. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hands fidgeting in his lap, wanting to touch Castiel but not sure if he was allowed. “Well then what the hell can I do? Cas, please tell me how I can fix this.”
Castiel sat up. “Dean, I’m the one who should be apologizing! I’ve been embarrassed. I wanted to call you, but they took my phone and they wouldn’t let me-”
“What are you talking about? You were mad at me.”
Castiel looked away from him, shifting uncomfortably. “About the other day... There is a chance, a very small chance, that I may have overreacted just a little bit.”
Dean choked on a laugh. “You... overreacted?”
Castiel sighed heavily. “I was... it was a bad day. And I’d felt differently since we slept together. And then overhearing you talking about us to her like none of it mattered... But I hadn’t told you. How were you supposed to know that I didn’t want you to lie for me anymore? It was really unreasonable of me, and I apologize.” He flopped back on the bad, the corners of his mouth turned down, not looking at Dean.
Dean tentatively reached out and laced his fingers through Castiel’s, his shoulders sagging a little with relief when Cas didn’t pull away. “You know she didn’t mean anything to me.”
A small nod. “I know.”
“And I am sorry. For being scared. Because, you know, I am scared of this. Of being open about what we have, and having the whole world know. I’m scared of what people are gonna say. I’m scared that it’s gonna hurt you.”
Castiel sighed again and turned to let his forehead rest on the back of Dean’s hand. “After this week, I think I can cope with it. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. I just... didn’t think they’d...”
Dean tentatively stroked his fingers across Castiel’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“Your mother knows.”
“Yeah, I told her this morning. Not that she hadn’t already guessed. You can stay here for as long as you want.”
Castiel nodded. “I’m so tired.”
Dean bent down and kissed the top of his head softly. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He laid Castiel’s hand back on the pillows and covered him up with the comforter. Cas was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, and Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead before moving away.
It hurt, hurt to get under the covers of the little camp bed, hear it creak beneath his weight. All Dean wanted was to hold onto Castiel, hold them both steady, shake off that feeling of almost having fallen from a precipice. But then Castiel was so broken and exhausted, and Dean wasn’t even really sure where they stood yet. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his skin was crawling with want, trying to forget that what he needed was mere feet away.
“Dean?” Castiel whispered, ragged and shaken.
“Yeah?” Dean tried and failed to keep his voice steady.
“I... I know that you’re trying to be, I don’t know, noble or something right now, by giving me some space. I know you’re probably concerned about taking advantage, but... could you please just get over here already?”
Dean didn’t need to be asked twice. Castiel grabbed onto him so tightly it was going to leave bruises, pulling Dean in, pulling him down. Castiel’s mouth was hot and hard against his own, and he was making quiet noises of desperation, like it wasn’t enough and he couldn’t get close enough, and he wanted to merge his body with Dean’s completely, inhale him, consume him.
“God, Cas, I couldn’t breathe,” Dean gasped. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you with me. What the fuck have you done to me?”
Castiel didn’t reply. He just dragged Dean under the covers and held him tightly, shivering as he buried his face in Dean’s neck. “I can’t get warm,” he whispered.
Dean wasn’t cut out for this. He wasn’t used to being the strong one where Cas was concerned. It had always been him who needed Castiel so terribly, who fell apart, who had to be saved. He tried to choke down his fear, his terror that he wasn’t going to be enough, that he would fail, that he would disappoint. He kissed prayers into Castiel’s skin, made promises with his fingertips, feeling the little tendrils of peace and love that he’d come to associate with Castiel reaching out again, tentatively, hopefully.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he breathed, to himself as much as to Castiel. “I got you now. It’s all gonna be okay.”
Little by little, Castiel began to relax against him. Dean held him close, tangling their legs together, breathing in the scent of Cas’s skin until his own heartbeat began to slow. He needed this, needed it, and the terror that it wouldn’t work, that they were both just too messed up, too needy, and that it would all fall apart, almost overwhelmed him.
But maybe, after all, that was why they worked so well. Two broken, frightened little boys clinging to each other for comfort in the darkness.
Chapter 12
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter - 11 (part 2)
Author - lafleurdumal85
Rating - NC-17
Summary - High school AU. It's Dean's senior year at Lawrence High, and he's already given up on himself. It takes the arrival of the strange, intense, awkward Castiel Delacroix at the school to prove to Dean that maybe his life is worth saving after all.
Chapter warnings - language, angst, post-coital snuggling
Spoilers - References to characters from seasons 1-6. Apart from that, it's completely AU.
Castiel wasn’t at school the next day, nor the day after that. Dean had tried texting him, had tried calling, but it had gone
straight to voicemail. Whatever Dean had to say, Cas clearly didn’t want to know. The worst of it was that he hadn’t understood. He hadn’t seen why Dean was so scared of people knowing, why he’d been so desperate to hide it. He hadn’t understood, and he wasn’t giving Dean the chance to explain. He oscillated between anger at the other boy and a desperation that left him breathless, that made him want to drive over to Castiel’s house and fight his way in to see him, the rest of his family be damned.
By Thursday, Dean was so sick with it that the thought of going into school was impossible. His mom had let him stay home, and he curled up on the couch watching crappy daytime TV shows. Jo had come over in the evening to report that Cas still wasn’t at school, and that she hadn’t been able to get in touch with him either. Dean had waited until she left before crawling into bed, pulling the covers up over his head and crying. He felt like his source of oxygen had been cut off. The one good thing in his life, the one thing that had made Dean feel good about himself, that had made him feel like he could turn things around and actually be happy again, and he’d screwed it up. And all over some stupid misunderstanding. He remembered gratefully that he’d saved a bottle of scotch in the back of his closet, and he drank until he couldn’t feel anymore.
Friday was Sam’s birthday. Dean still couldn’t go to school, arguing to his parents that he’d caught some virus. The fact that he’d been throwing up all morning was pretty good support to the lie, and he hoped that they didn’t realize that it was all alcohol related rather than gastric flu. He feared that Mary had her suspicions. Crappy as he felt, Dean dragged himself out of bed in the afternoon and helped his dad set up the barbeque in the back garden. He didn’t want to spoil things for his brother, and felt like he should at least pretend to have a good time.
By the end of the evening, Dean’s face was aching from his fake smile. Sam had been too busy geeking out over his new books and the David Attenborough box set he’d been given to notice, but Dean noticed Mary shooting him anxious looks. He was pretty much over his hangover which was a shame: it had been a good distraction from Castiel.
Jo found him in the kitchen where he’d gone to hide.
She leaned up against the counter opposite him. “I feel I should warn you that our mothers are discussing your love life.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “What love life?”
Jo poked him with the toe of her shoe. “Buck up, champ. You guys are gonna work it out. I hate to say it, but you’re sickeningly good together.”
“Maybe if I wasn’t such a fuck-up.”
Jo did something then that she did very rarely: she threw her arms around Dean and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, not caring that he was being a baby. Jo didn’t hug very much, but when she did, she really meant it, and made Dean appreciate it all the more.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jo mumbled from somewhere below Dean’s chin. “He’ll come around, you’ll apologize, and you’ll drive off into the sunset together.”
“Yeah, or he’ll drive off into the sunset to go to fucking Cornell and have an amazing life and meet someone who isn’t having a sexual identity crisis, and I’ll be left here to remember how I had something amazing for a while but was too fucking dumb to hold onto it.”
Jo pulled away and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Dean, drama queen much?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot for a minute that you are a heartless bitch.”
Jo bumped him with her shoulder. “Come on, I’m serious. It’s going to be okay.”
Dean grimaced. He was on the point of saying that it was probably all for the best, that Cas deserved someone better, that Dean would just screw things up anyway. But he didn’t. He knew it wasn’t for the fucking best. He knew it was an insult to what they had to say that, that things had been better for Cas as well as for him when they were together, and he’d managed to spoil it. If only Castiel would listen to him, give him another chance, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t do to fix it.
“Pam’s coming over tonight,” Jo continued. “We’re going to eat junk food and have a TV marathon. You should come over. We’re gonna watch America’s Next Top Model. You know you secretly love America’s Next Top Model.”
Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I really do.”
“And then there’s the next episode of Doctor Sexy. And True Blood re-runs.”
Dean managed a smile. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll be there. But only if you guys don’t tell anyone about ANTM. Or Doctor Sexy either, actually.”
Jo snorted. “I’ll take it to the grave.”
...
Dean woke up early on Saturday morning, not able to sleep well, his heart still full of that leaden feeling. He dressed and went down to put on some coffee. Maybe working at the garage would help. It would at least give him something to think about other than Castiel, and how badly he’d screwed everything up. To his surprise, his mother was already in the kitchen, and there was a mug of steaming black coffee waiting for him.
Mary smiled when he came in. “Good morning.”
“Mom! I… you didn’t have to do this.”
She laughed. “Well, I can never sleep after your dad’s up. He’s not exactly quiet in the mornings.”
Dean laughed half-heartedly.
“Dean… is everything all right?”
“Sure!” he said, forcing a bright smile. “I’m… I’m gonna drink this outside.” He picked up the coffee mug and went out the back door. There was a bench overlooking the garden, and Dean sat down, closing his eyes. The rising sun was pleasantly warm on his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Mary had come out to join him. Dean would have been annoyed, but he suddenly felt that he really didn’t want to be alone after all. The urge to talk to someone was almost overwhelming. It made his heart beat painfully to think of confiding in anyone about his relationship with Castiel, but he felt like if he didn’t he might just explode.
“Mind if I join you?” Mary said.
Dean shook his head, and she sat down beside him. Neither of them spoke at first, sipping their coffee, watching the light stretch out across the grass. Dean cleared his throat nervously.
“Mom, there’s… I guess you’ve already figured out that I’ve been seeing someone. And I really like them. More than like.” Dean stared into his coffee cup as though it had the answers to the universe. It was that time of morning he loved - when it was still early enough for everything to have a golden haze around it. It didn’t seem right somehow that everything could be this beautiful when Dean was feeling this bad. Mary sat beside him on the bench, silently waiting for him to continue. That’s what he liked best about his mother - unlike John, she didn’t push. He took another sip of coffee. “And… and this person is, well, they’re not anything like someone I’d expect to, you know, have feelings for. I mean, they’re completely unsuitable for me in so many ways, and I know no one else is gonna get it, but I… but I…” Dean lost courage.
Mary slipped her hand around his arm and gave it a little squeeze. “Dean. I think Castiel is a lovely boy.”
Dean almost dropped his mug in surprise. He snapped his head round to look at his mother, who was smiling at him tenderly. “You… you knew?”
She gave a small shrug. “A mother picks up on these things. There was the way he looked at you. The way you looked at him. And, of course, the fact that a couple of months ago you decided to start ‘studying’ in your bedroom with the door shut.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, I think I’m the only one who’s noticed.”
Dean looked away. He wanted to say something, but there was a lump in his throat.
“He’s been good for you. Sweetheart, I was so worried about you. Over the last year I’ve watched as you got closer and closer to giving up on yourself. I tried to help you but you wouldn’t let me, and I was scared that you’d… I don’t know. But since the accident you’ve been… you’ve been getting like your old self again, and I know that a lot of that has to do with Castiel. Dean, love isn’t predictable. Sometimes it appears in unlikely forms. And maybe you’re right and other people won’t understand it, but I do. And I’m sure that anyone who knows you and loves you will as well. So isn’t that all that matters?”
Dean took a deep, steadying breath. “Mom, I’ve screwed up.” He squinted into the rising sun, not trusting himself to look at her.
“What happened?”
“Someone asked me if Cas and I were… were together, and I said no. Pretty emphatically. He’s so mad at me, Mom. I mean, he won’t even speak to me. He thinks that I’m ashamed. But… but it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’m scared about people finding out, but it’s got nothing to do with… with how I feel about him or about what we have. It’s…”
“What?”
“He is so damn innocent. I mean, he’s possibly the smartest person I’ve ever met, and he can sure as hell take care of himself, I’m not worried about him in that respect. But he… he’s not had to deal with people before. He doesn’t know what they’re like. And what we have, it’s… it’s beautiful and good and… and ours. And I feel like he thinks that if we announce it to the world, everyone’s gonna see that. He doesn’t understand how they’d take what we have and turn it into… into something dirty or something to be laughed at. He doesn’t see how they’d try to rip it to shreds, and while it might not break us apart, I… I know how much it would hurt him. And he can’t understand that I’d do anything to protect him from that.” Dean was crying now, but he was beyond caring.
Mary put her arms around him and held him close, and Dean rested his head on her shoulder, wishing that he was a child again and that all his problems could be solved with a hug.
“Sweetheart, you have to tell him.”
“I tried, Mom, but he won’t talk to me. He’s not even answering his phone. He hates me.”
“No he doesn’t, he’s just feeling hurt and confused. And if you give up now, it’ll only hurt him more. You have to make him listen.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. Making Castiel do something was not exactly a simple matter.
“There was this one time back when your dad and I were dating and we had this huge fight. God, I can’t even remember what it was about now. But I was mad. I wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t talk to him, I… I may have threatened him with a shotgun when he tried to come to my house.”
“You what?”
“Well, I was a little wild when I was younger. Anyway, the point is that he didn’t give up. And eventually I heard him out because no matter how angry I was, I loved him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten so angry in the first place. And obviously, he won me over. If he’d given up… well, I probably would’ve been too proud to go to him of my own accord. See, nothing that’s worth having comes for free. You have to fight for it. And it’s scary, and you’re putting yourself on the line, and sometimes you feel like it’s all going to come to nothing, but you have to keep fighting. You have to.”
“Dean!” John’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Dean, where are you? Time to get going!”
Dean hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and got to his feet. “Coming!” he called.
“You will try, won’t you?” Mary said.
Dean nodded. “Mom, you… you won’t tell Dad about any of this will you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“Thanks. And… thanks.”
...
Dean worked well that day. It was good to have something manual to do, it took him out of himself, gave him something to focus on. Also it felt nice to assure himself that he didn’t fuck everything up: Dean was a damn good mechanic. His dad had put him to work on a truck today, letting him do most of the work himself, and Dean was in his element. It hadn’t ever occurred to him that this was a sign of intelligence, that he could take a machine apart and put it back together again, that he could tell what was wrong with a car just from listening to the motor. It was just something he did. No big deal.
He worked past home time, telling Bobby that he wanted to finish up on the truck that night. John had gone off to one of Ellen’s infamous poker nights, and Dean just hoped that his dad wouldn’t gamble away his pants like he had last time after he’d run out of dollar bills. Mary had laughed herself silly. Sam and Dean thought they would never live down the image of their dad walking down the street in his underwear.
Dean was alone in the garage; Bobby had wandered off to the back office some time ago, grumbling about the shitload of receipts he had to process. It had always made Dean laugh, how Bobby and his dad put off doing the paperwork until the last possible minute, and always fought about whose turn it was like some old married couple.
Dean worked on, his mind soothed by the feeling of fixing something, putting it right.
Anna had to clear her throat twice before he realized that she was there.
When he finally did look up, he felt like his stomach was going to fall out, and he dropped the wrench he’d been holding. Anna jumped a little as it clattered to the floor, and Dean knew just from looking at her that something bad had happened.
“Tell me,” he rasped.
She looked up at him with big, frightened eyes, and for the first time Dean could see the family resemblance with Cas.
“Castiel’s left and I don’t know where he’s gone,” she whispered. “They... they kicked him out.”
Dean’s legs gave out a little, and he sat down on the hood of the truck. He thought for a moment that he was going to pass out.
“I’ve only just managed to get away,” Anna gabbled. “They don’t know that I’ve gone, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back to that house, not after the way they treated Castiel. They... Dean, he told them. On Monday night, he told them he was gay. My dad just started yelling at him about abominations against nature, and how he was playing into the devil’s hands, and then he shut Cas up in his room and took away his cell phone and wouldn’t let him out. Michael just sat there, not saying anything. He was so scary, and my dad kept talking about sending Cas away to some camp and getting him fixed. Like there was something wrong with him. They wouldn’t even let me see him. Then today, they went to talk to him and persuade him that he was sinning in the eyes of God, but Cas said that Zachariah was the one who was sinning by being so full of hate, and that he wasn’t going to any camp, he was going to college, and he wasn’t going to be ashamed of who he was anymore. And then Michael hit him, and... and told him to get out. They didn’t even let him pack or anything, I... he doesn’t have his cell, he’s barely had any food, he’s...”
Anna held out Castiel’s phone, trying to stop her tears, and Dean took it with shaking hands.
“He didn’t say it was you,” she continued quietly. “He never said. I knew it couldn’t be anyone else though; I knew he was in love with you from the very first time he brought you home. I... I didn’t think he’d ever have the guts to tell them.”
Dean nodded numbly. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “Anna, do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t have any money. He didn’t have anything. I tried to go after him but my father wouldn’t let me, and I...” She bit her lip, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
Dean’s brain was already racing, trying to think of all the possible places that Castiel could have gone for refuge. The empty house was the first to spring to mind, but would Cas even have the key? If he’d been kicked out with nothing, it wasn’t likely. Then there was the school, the library, the park... Dean’s thoughts were tripping over each other. His mom would be able to help. He was suddenly infinitely grateful that Mary knew everything now; she’d be able to think about this calmly and rationally.
“I have to go,” Dean rasped, his hands shaking so badly it was impossible to hold them steady.
She nodded. “I’m not going back. There’s no fucking way I’m going back after this. I’ve saved up a little and I’m going to San Francisco. I’m going to go and find my uncle Luke.”
“I have to go,” Dean said again, backing towards the Impala.
“I know. Me too, I... I don’t want them catching up with me. Call me when you find Castiel, okay? He’ll know how to get in touch.”
It wasn’t until later that it occurred to Dean that he hadn’t stopped to ask her if she’d be okay, or if she needed a lift anywhere. His thoughts had been too occupied with worry about Castiel to even consider anything else. But then he reasoned that Anna seemed like the kind of girl who could take care of herself. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d offered to help find her cousin, in spite of all her tears. She’d just wanted to get out of there. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to think badly of her for it; he knew better than most that misery could make you callous.
Dean drove home on autopilot, the fear of being stopped by the cops and held up further the only thing keeping him just a little over the speed limit. He was too panicked, he couldn’t think straight. His mom would know what to do. Mary would help him find Castiel, then Dean would explain everything, and it would all be better again. That was the one thought that kept him from spiraling into full-on panic, the one thought that allowed him to get home in one piece.
Only when Dean crashed into the kitchen, it became apparent that no search party was necessary. Castiel was sitting at the table opposite Dean’s mother, his hands clasped around a steaming mug of tea.
“Cas?” Dean choked, relief making his knees weak.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Castiel said, not looking at Dean. Dean could see the livid bruise that was forming on Castiel’s right cheekbone, and he wanted to kill Michael.
“You’re always welcome here,” Mary told him gently.
“Of course,” Dean breathed, feeling beyond awful that Cas wouldn’t even look at him, when all Dean wanted was to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. He guessed he wasn’t allowed to right now, and balked at the thought that he might never be allowed again.
Mary shot him a quick glance. “You’ll be in Dean’s room, if that’s all right. We don’t have a spare bedroom, I’m afraid, but there’s a camp bed we can put up and plenty of spare blankets. If you need it.”
Castiel nodded abruptly. “I’m just... very tired.”
“I’ll go set it up,” Dean whispered, suddenly not able to be in the room anymore. The fold-out bed was ancient, and he trapped his fingers in the springs when he opened it up, making him swear under his breath. At least the pain gave him something to focus on, because he felt like he was going to choke with desperation. The thought of Castiel not wanting him, even now, made his chest tight and his hands shake. He tried to think of what he could say to convince Cas that he was sorry, that they could work things out. He fucking hated how much he sucked at this.
By the time he got back from the linen closet with some clean blankets, Castiel was standing apprehensively in the doorway to his bedroom. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said again, looking at Dean’s knees.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your hair,” Dean snapped, misery making him bitter. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else.”
“That wasn’t what I...” Castiel sighed.
“Anna told me what happened.” It was easier to concentrate on making up the bed, because at least then he had his back to Cas and wasn’t constantly made aware that the guy couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. “She came to the garage and told me. She gave me this.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out Cas’s phone, handing it over.
“Thank you.”
“You can take my bed,” Dean said, finally facing the other boy.
Castiel did look at him then, surprised and pained. “No, Dean, I couldn’t possibly-”
“Forget about it,” Dean said, waving his hand dismissively. “Take the bed; I’m fine on this.” He wasn’t about to bring up the fact that his bed could easily fit two. He didn’t think it would be a welcome observation.
Castiel shuffled over to the bed awkwardly, clutching his restored cell phone like some kind of talisman. “Um, I didn’t have anything with me when I left...”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Dean opened a drawer and pulled out some sweatpants and an old t-shirt. “Here. I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll give you some space.”
“Thank you,” Castiel whispered miserably.
Dean ran the shower as hot as he could take it. It was the best way of getting engine grease off, and it made him feel stronger, less shaky, as the hot streams of water ran almost painfully over his neck and down his back. It made him think a little less. He’d thought that it would be easy if he could just see Cas again and have the chance to talk to him. He’d been pretty fucking wrong.
He toweled himself off and slipped on some drawstring pants. He told himself that it was ridiculous to be nervous about going back into his own bedroom.
When he cautiously opened the door a couple of minutes later, Castiel was already in his bed and under the covers.
“You okay?” Dean asked gruffly.
Castiel glanced up at him and nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m just... I’m really cold.” He pulled the blankets up higher and turned towards the wall.
“Of course not.” Dean stared at Castiel’s back miserably for a few seconds. “Cas, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Castiel turned over to face him, his eyelashes wet. “Please don’t”
Dean’s heart clenched. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hands fidgeting in his lap, wanting to touch Castiel but not sure if he was allowed. “Well then what the hell can I do? Cas, please tell me how I can fix this.”
Castiel sat up. “Dean, I’m the one who should be apologizing! I’ve been embarrassed. I wanted to call you, but they took my phone and they wouldn’t let me-”
“What are you talking about? You were mad at me.”
Castiel looked away from him, shifting uncomfortably. “About the other day... There is a chance, a very small chance, that I may have overreacted just a little bit.”
Dean choked on a laugh. “You... overreacted?”
Castiel sighed heavily. “I was... it was a bad day. And I’d felt differently since we slept together. And then overhearing you talking about us to her like none of it mattered... But I hadn’t told you. How were you supposed to know that I didn’t want you to lie for me anymore? It was really unreasonable of me, and I apologize.” He flopped back on the bad, the corners of his mouth turned down, not looking at Dean.
Dean tentatively reached out and laced his fingers through Castiel’s, his shoulders sagging a little with relief when Cas didn’t pull away. “You know she didn’t mean anything to me.”
A small nod. “I know.”
“And I am sorry. For being scared. Because, you know, I am scared of this. Of being open about what we have, and having the whole world know. I’m scared of what people are gonna say. I’m scared that it’s gonna hurt you.”
Castiel sighed again and turned to let his forehead rest on the back of Dean’s hand. “After this week, I think I can cope with it. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. I just... didn’t think they’d...”
Dean tentatively stroked his fingers across Castiel’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“Your mother knows.”
“Yeah, I told her this morning. Not that she hadn’t already guessed. You can stay here for as long as you want.”
Castiel nodded. “I’m so tired.”
Dean bent down and kissed the top of his head softly. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He laid Castiel’s hand back on the pillows and covered him up with the comforter. Cas was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, and Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead before moving away.
It hurt, hurt to get under the covers of the little camp bed, hear it creak beneath his weight. All Dean wanted was to hold onto Castiel, hold them both steady, shake off that feeling of almost having fallen from a precipice. But then Castiel was so broken and exhausted, and Dean wasn’t even really sure where they stood yet. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his skin was crawling with want, trying to forget that what he needed was mere feet away.
“Dean?” Castiel whispered, ragged and shaken.
“Yeah?” Dean tried and failed to keep his voice steady.
“I... I know that you’re trying to be, I don’t know, noble or something right now, by giving me some space. I know you’re probably concerned about taking advantage, but... could you please just get over here already?”
Dean didn’t need to be asked twice. Castiel grabbed onto him so tightly it was going to leave bruises, pulling Dean in, pulling him down. Castiel’s mouth was hot and hard against his own, and he was making quiet noises of desperation, like it wasn’t enough and he couldn’t get close enough, and he wanted to merge his body with Dean’s completely, inhale him, consume him.
“God, Cas, I couldn’t breathe,” Dean gasped. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you with me. What the fuck have you done to me?”
Castiel didn’t reply. He just dragged Dean under the covers and held him tightly, shivering as he buried his face in Dean’s neck. “I can’t get warm,” he whispered.
Dean wasn’t cut out for this. He wasn’t used to being the strong one where Cas was concerned. It had always been him who needed Castiel so terribly, who fell apart, who had to be saved. He tried to choke down his fear, his terror that he wasn’t going to be enough, that he would fail, that he would disappoint. He kissed prayers into Castiel’s skin, made promises with his fingertips, feeling the little tendrils of peace and love that he’d come to associate with Castiel reaching out again, tentatively, hopefully.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he breathed, to himself as much as to Castiel. “I got you now. It’s all gonna be okay.”
Little by little, Castiel began to relax against him. Dean held him close, tangling their legs together, breathing in the scent of Cas’s skin until his own heartbeat began to slow. He needed this, needed it, and the terror that it wouldn’t work, that they were both just too messed up, too needy, and that it would all fall apart, almost overwhelmed him.
But maybe, after all, that was why they worked so well. Two broken, frightened little boys clinging to each other for comfort in the darkness.
Chapter 12
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10