[FIC] On Pavement: Through Air 5/? (+Prologue)
Title: On Pavement : Through Air [ch.5 SFO to LAX]
Author: metchaky
Rating: R overall
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: use of characters throughout the entirety of the show, but no spoilers for plot
Warnings: none
Word Count: ~24,000[WIP]
Summary: Dean doesn't see why he should want to travel abroad when there's enough shit to see within the continental US to last a lifetime.
Castiel is fascinated by the language and culture of lands he's never been in.
Or: a series of snapshots from Dean's life within the context of Sam's. And maybe also more often than not in the context of Sam's former professor, Castiel.
A/N: I was debating whether or not to split this chapter in half, but ultimately decided not to. It's twice as long as average, but I figured that my chapters aren't based off of word-count, but topic. But if you feel it's a jarring change in the flow, then do let me know~
[ Beginning: Prologue ]
Ben had said his goodbyes when Dean dropped him off at the hotel in San Francisco that Matt and Lisa had finally arrived and checked-in at. It seemed that Ben was ready to believe Dean’s assurances that he wasn’t going to just drop off the radar because of Matt, which was a fact Dean was grateful for because he had other things on his mind and having Ben think he was being abandoned by Dean was something he knew he wouldn’t have been able to let go.
But Ben didn’t hate him; Lisa wasn’t barring him from seeing her son; Matt seemed like a genuinely nice guy; and so now Dean could go ahead and move on to the next task at hand, which was that he had once made the drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles in five hours with no stops (and no cops).
But Dean was pretty sure that this particular drive would not be one of his efficiently straightforward A to B trips.
Reason One was because he hadn’t fully filled his tank.
Reason Two was because he wasn’t taking I-5. He wasn’t even really taking US 101. In fact, Dean was taking SR 1, aka the extremely scenic Pacific Coast Highway.
Reason Three (and Dean was starting to think that Three might also be responsible for One and Two) was because he was sort of taking the trip as a personal challenge
Dean wasn’t a commuter and he hated the side-looks his baby got for not being one of the sleek, aerodynamic, 65 mpg plastic cars all the yuppies were driving around nowadays. He knew his mode of transportation wasn’t efficient and it grated on him that people acted like he was an idiot who simply didn’t understand and always felt the need to show him the error of his ways.
So far, Castiel hadn’t done that.
Sure, the guy had gone on about ‘Efficiency!’, but Dean had tried to get across ‘It’s not about that’ and Cas hadn’t written him off as ignorant. Cas had instead seemed genuinely interested in ‘Then what?’ So now Dean’s mental route was adding several hours to the expected trip duration and maybe a late-night refueling detour as well.
Dean checked his watch. He was standing in the north-side faculty parking garage and was scheduled to meet Cas at six-thirty PM. It was currently six twenty-eight and almost exactly two minutes later the elevator doors dinged open and Castiel took a moment to spot Dean before stepping out with a suitcase at his feet and a large messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.
“Dean.”
“Cas,” Dean acknowledged before popping open his trunk and offering to help load Cas’ luggage.
Castiel shook his head, “I’ll be keeping my messenger bag with me, if you don’t mind.”
Dean shut the trunk and eyed Castiel’s bag suspiciously, “You’re planning on doing work, aren’t you?”
Cas walked to the passenger’s seat as Dean got behind the wheel. “I’m fairly certain that was a rhetorical question, but I feel that it may be necessary to confirm that yes, I am planning to get some work done during this trip.” He climbed into the Impala, setting his bag down by his feet, “Will that be a problem?”
“Problem? Nah.” Dean started the engine and backed out, rolling down his window once they were out of the garage’s enclosure and in the open air, “I’ll just consider it ‘challenge accepted’.”
“So you’ll be making it your goal to prevent me from working?” Castiel looked out at the familiar streets of Berkeley, still crawling with students in the fading daylight, “Perhaps I should have read the fine writing.”
“The challenge isn’t to stop you from working. It’s to make it so you yourself don’t want to work,” Dean clarified.
“Technicality,” Cas said and pointedly pulled out a thick packet of papers (this one titled ’Collapse of the Fact/Value Dichotomy’) along with a ballpoint pen.
“Let me demonstrate the difference,” said Dean before he swerved into the unoccupied lane next to him and immediately did a series of brake-checks. Cas’ seatbelt locked into place and his pen flew onto the car’s dash as he lost his grip. “This sort of driving would be me preventing you from working.”
Castiel unbuckled his seatbelt and retrieved his pen from where it had gotten caught in a rivet by the windshield once the car steadied, “That sort of driving would have resulted in coffee splashed all over your leather seats.”
Dean popped in one of his favorite Zeppelin tapes. “From here on out it’s all persuasion.” He propped his left arm out his open window and stared straight at the road ahead.
Cas watched the San Francisco skyline as it grew smaller in the rearview and slowly let out one long breath before looking down at the paper in his hand and writing a quick comment in the margin about lack of clarity in the thesis. He quickly zoned himself out to the rest of the world and focused onto his grading. It wasn’t until a good ninety minutes of his head propped against the window frame did Castiel suddenly jerk out of his impromptu nap and realize he was stepping on the paper he had been trying to grade and his pen was wedged next to the door.
On his left Dean was mouthing along to Metallica and on his right the road fell away to the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean and the sun just beginning its descent. Castiel watched as the empty beaches passed by and strained to hear and smell the salty ocean waves, but was unsurprised when both were masked by the smell and sounds of the Impala.
“Welcome back to Earth.” Dean’s eyes briefly turned to Cas before flicking back to the road. “We’re just about at Big Sur.”
“I assumed you weren’t the touristy type.”
“Hey,” Dean defended, “It doesn’t count if it’s sitting on the highway we happen to be taking.”
“Actually, I was talking about these.” Castiel pulled a handful of pamphlets that he found tucked into the space between the passenger’s side door and the seat while reaching for his pen. “Grand Canyon, Area 51, Four Corners, Mount Rushmore... unless there’s an incredibly impractical highway that happens to pass through all of these?”
“You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?” Dean said with something akin to fondness. “Those were all places Ben wanted to visit.”
Cas leafed through the glossy papers, “I’d almost have expected you to discourage him.”
“You’ve made an awful lot of assumptions about me.” Dean tried to keep his voice light-hearted even if Cas sounded like he was getting ready to whip out a new list of expectations that Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to live up to.
Castiel looked at Dean, examining, “I believe it’s a base instinct for most, if not all, living creatures to prejudge their environment and the things that populate it.”
“Are you defending racism?”
There was a moment of silence as Castiel considered his answer, “Perhaps the right to be a racist, but not racism itself. Everyone has a right to thought, but only a person’s actions and intentions can justify prejudice.”
Dean gave Cas a skeptical glance, “You do realize all I’m getting is that you’re okay with bigots?”
“That’s not...” Castiel paused, then sighed, “You are free to hate whomever you want, but it cannot fuel your actions.”
“Unlike Vulcans, us humans are pretty shitty when it comes to separating emotions from what we do, but look, I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore.”
Castiel tucked the paper back into his bag, dusting off as much of his shoe print as possible, and then also tucked his bag under the seat. He stopped to recall the way Dean had acted with Ben. Even the way Dean had acted with Sam. “I simply meant to say that the reality of you, Dean Winchester, has so far exceeded all of my preconceived notions.”
Dean looked at Cas for a second, shaking his head, “Alright, Creepster McGee, we’ve been in each other’s presence for maybe a total of,” Dean made a show of doing fake mental calculations, “less than six hours. So don’t mind me if I just... don’t really take your word for it, cool?”
Castiel fell back to silently stare out at the scenery. “It’s easy to forget how big everything actually is when looking out an airplane window. You forget all the nooks and crannies.”
Dean remained quiet, but pulled into the next rest stop they reached. Castiel watched Dean get out of the card and turn around to walk towards an overgrown path twisting down through lush green forest. “Dean? The restrooms are located on the other end of the parking lot, not in the woods.”
Dean called back over his shoulder, “I never said anything about the bathroom.”
Castiel unbuckled and followed after, glad he had at least swapped out his suit for jeans and a short-sleeved button up. “It was a logical assumption since we pulled into a rest stop.”
Dean abruptly stopped and turned around, finding himself inches from Cas. He fought his socially trained instinct to step back, but felt that maybe this was one of those dominance things: first one to look away loses. “Maybe you should stop making so many assumptions.”
Cas didn’t even flinch, “You’re asking me to suspend a natural cognitive process that I can’t control.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Dean broke through the line of trees and stepped out onto an open beach without a soul in sight. The sun was low enough that the sky was beginning to darken, but it had yet another hour before it would fully set.
Castiel walked forward and inhaled the untainted smell of the ocean while picking up on the sound of sea lions barking in the distance. He watched curiously as Dean laid down on his back with his hands tucked under his head and looking for all intents and purposes about ready for an early evening nap. Castiel looked down at him quietly for a full minute and when it was clear Dean wasn’t planning on saying anything, Cas spoke up, “What are you doing?”
Dean cracked an eye open, “Enjoying nature.”
“It looks more like sleeping.”
“And yet here you are waking me up. Some people just have no manners.”
Castiel looked at his watch. “I do understand your idea of ‘it’s the journey not the destination’, but in this particular case there is a specific destination I’d like to get to in a timely manner.”
Dean didn’t even bother cracking open an eye, “God, both you and Sam, I swear... You told me that your flight doesn’t depart until around two in the afternoon tomorrow. It’s not even nine in the evening today. What exactly are you going to do at an airport if you arrive half a day early?”
“They have premium lounges with shower and sleeping facilities.”
“Must be nice to be a one percenter,” Dean muttered.
Castiel stared across the ocean water. “It seems that I’m not the only one with a tendency towards assumptions.”
“Whatever.” A few minutes of silence passed between the two. Dean laid unmoving on the sand and Cas stayed standing still beside him. “Dude, you’re not gonna peer pressure me into getting up and leaving by refusing to relax. Just frickin’ give it up and enjoy the fucking nature around you.”
“I think some of the sea lions on that bit of land off-shore may be mating and I’m not finding it particularly enjoyable.”
“Smart-ass.”
Castiel huffed and looked away from Dean. “The sun’s setting.”
“It’s a good thing my baby’s got these things called ‘headlights’.”
“I think your ass may be smarter than mine.”
“Mr. Novak, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”
“That quote would be more appropriate were you your brother.”
Cas waited another minute before finally settling into the sand next to Dean. He spotted a plane in the sky above them and his thoughts flooded with perspective and scale and the mysteries of the universe. Time passed and Castiel let the overwhelming presence of nature trigger memories of parks and people he hadn’t thought of in years.
Eventually Dean stood up, dusting the sand off the back of his clothes. “We’ll have to stop for gas in another hour or so. We can grab a late dinner then.” He made his way back to the small path towards the car.
Castiel didn’t follow him.
Dean turned back and saw the slight shiver that ran through Cas as the early evening chill began to creep in. “What happened to all that enthusiasm to get back on the road?”
“I think,” Castiel said, finally getting up and turning towards Dean, “the most regretful aspect of travelling by airplane is the inability to roll down the windows.”
“There may be hope for you yet,” Dean declared as he threw an arm over Cas’ shoulders. “Though to be fair, you may not get open windows, but you do have the mile-high club.”
“Completely impractical. I find it questionable that the on-board restrooms found on most planes would be able to provide enough room for any sex to be completely satisfying.” Castiel pressed in closer to Dean’s side, making sure to avoid stepping on his feet in the process.
Dean dropped his arm as they reached the Impala. “You can have satisfying sex anytime, but you can’t have mile-high sex just anywhere.”
Castiel got into the car and waited for Dean to slide behind the wheel before responding, “It seems that, once again, we may have different priorities.”
“It’s not like the two are mutually exclusive.” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Cas once they were back on the Pacific Coast Highway, “Just sayin’ that if I got you into a cramped airplane bathroom, you wouldn’t be questioning your satisfaction.” He casually looked back at the road, knowing full well that he might have overstepped his bounds, but mostly confident that he hadn’t.
And if Dean had expected Cas to take a moment to gather himself, he would’ve been disappointed because almost immediately Castiel replied, “As an academic I try not to commit to an idea without hard evidence.”
“You’re trying to seduce me-”
“Not even thirty minutes have passed since you last used that reference.”
Dean grinned into the wind whipping in from the open windows, “Still applies.”
Castiel stifled a yawn.
“It’s like, ten-before-nine right now,” Dean said in amusement.
Cas thumped his head against the edge of the open window’s frame, “I have been getting up at five o’clock every morning this past week to ensure that any outstanding business would be settled before I left.”
“Okay, old man, take your nap and I’ll wake you up when we stop for gas and grub.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Castiel rolled up his window and slipped off his shoes.
Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Cas balled up his overcoat and tucked it between his head and the window’s glass. Eventually Cas’ breathing evened out and Dean once again found himself oddly comforted by the simple presence of another person.
And if this time around that ‘other person’ happened to be a hot guy he’d been exchanging completely obvious flirtations with instead of his twelve year old not-exactly-son, well... Dean could do worse.
At a quarter past eleven, Dean started keeping an eye out for exits. The fuel light had yet to ping on, but he could read his sweetheart better than the built-in indicators and he knew he’d only have another forty-five minutes before he’d actually be running on empty. Dean saw signs for a city a little further inland and he was pulling into a small gas station within the hour.
“Alright, Sleeping Beauty, time to refuel.”
Cas didn’t budge.
Dean leaned across the seat and scraped just the tip of his index fingernail feather-light down Cas’ cheek.
Castiel twitched, mouth falling into a frown and one hand coming up to instinctively swat at the area.
Dean tried again, running his fingernail lightly from Cas’ adam’s apple up to his chin.
This time Castiel jerked awake, eyes wide, and his fingers reflexively snapped around Dean’s wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Waking you up.”
Castiel looked down to where he was still gripping Dean’s wrist and slowly loosened his fingers. “There are better methods you could have employed that don’t involve mimicking an insect crawling on my face.”
They both climbed out of the car and Castiel stretched as Dean worked the pump. “Hey, Cas, you wanna run inside and check where the closest food joint that’d still be open is? It’ll probably be an IHOP or a really shady burrito place, welcome to California.”
“Or the Hammersky Inn. Their kitchens are ‘open twenty-four seven!’ And that’s their exclamation point, not mine.” Castiel nodded towards an ancient-looking, though well-kept, estate across the road and the large black and white sign from which he had been reading.
Dean didn’t agree with the exclamation point, “Inns always serve that dainty brunch crap.”
“Your criteria were: ‘closest’, ‘food joint’, and ‘still open’. It’s nearly midnight and we’re surrounded by vineyards; if they’re still serving brunch then they are wrong.”
“Well then,” Dean said as he twisted his gas cap back in place, “I’d hate to deny you the chance to right such a wrong. And that place looks like someone’s house. You sure it’s an actual business?”
“I am not the one who wrote the sign, Dean.”
“No, but we’ll be the ones eating soylent green for believing it.”
Castiel looked back at the looming inn while Dean parked his car in an actual spot. They both crossed the empty road towards the inn and down the winding path that took them through a lush vineyard. The lobby was a small desk set up in the large foyer of the house and an old man sat behind it reading a yellowing paperback.
“Food,” Dean informed the man.
The attendant looked up before turning his head to look into an adjacent brightly lit room. Dean and Castiel looked along with him and saw that the inn was obviously bigger than they had initially thought. Beyond a set of spiraling stairs was a large dining room where a couple truckers sat looking out of place next to the polished wood of the decor.
Suddenly there was a shrill ringing and their attention snapped back to the desk and the ancient-looking brass phone sitting atop it. The attendant eyed the phone warily and said, “Grab a seat and Paul will be out to help you.”
The phone eventually stopped ringing, the man went back to his book, and Dean and Castiel made their way to one of the booths against the window. Dean was pleased to see that the breakfast menus were out and it didn’t take long for Paul to come out and take their orders (waffles for Dean, biscuits and gravy for Cas, and an extra side of bacon and sausage for both).
Castiel rubbed his shoulders as he slowly stretched out his neck. “I’m not sure I will ever get used to sleeping while sitting up.”
“No worries,” Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and breathed it in, “another four hours and you’ll have your premium lounge.”
Cas looked up from his own cup of coffee, “I do apologize for spending so much of this trip asleep.”
Dean waved him off, “Sam used to knock out the moment the car started moving.” He paused for a moment, “But then, Sammy used to have really bad nightmares when he was a kid and ‘the monsters’ would keep him up most nights.”
“And did you help him overcome his fear or were you the type of brother who had convinced him monsters existed in the first place?”
Castiel watched Dean carefully as he considered his answer. The corners of his lips had quirked up into a small smile and his eyes brightened just the tiniest bit. “Neither. Mom and Dad were the ones to check under his bed, in the closet, and even behind the damn curtains. But Sam was never convinced. Thought that they’d have to be really shitty monsters to hide in obvious places.”
Castiel watched the bob of Dean’s throat when he paused to down the rest of his coffee. “So your tactic was...?”
“Well ya’ see... Sammy’d get specific with certain monsters. Sometimes it’d just be normal vampires and zombies, but other times it’d be something that could mimic a human voice or maybe feed on you for weeks before you noticed.” Dean gave Cas a small nod of thanks as he poured out more coffee. “So I started looking up local lore. Would teach Sam these obscure ‘protection sigils’ I’d find in library books. And it helped for awhile. Until he grew into an angsty teenager.”
Castiel could tell Dean had skimmed over something important. Something that had dulled the corners of his smile and had brought the story to a premature end. “Stories of the supernatural permeate cultures on a global and historic scale. It is not illogical to assume that they have some basis in reality.”
“Trust me, I know.” Dean leaned forward on his elbows, “I mean, you’ve got the really obvious touristy shit they put out there to sell keychains like Jackalopes and Chupacabras. But the stuff they don’t tell you is the stuff they actually believe. For example," Dean looked around and waved Paul, their server, over.
Paul gave them a polite smile, “Your orders will be out in a little bit, sorry for the wait.”
Dean smiled up at him charmingly, “Tell me about the old phone you guys’ve got out there.”
Castiel tilted his head at Dean in curiosity.
Paul pursed his lips and threw a glance towards the foyer. “If you need to make a call we do have a phone at the front-”
“Nope,” Dean interrupted, “I’m talking about the antique one on the desk that was ringing earlier. Nobody answered it.”
One of the truckers let out a big laugh and asked, “Is ol’ Emsley still pulling the alarm?”
Dean grinned knowingly and Paul let out a sound of frustration. “It’s just a glitch in the phone-line.”
The trucker ignored him and turned his chair to face Dean and Cas’ booth. “Story goes that Emsley used to work here back in the forties. Fire broke out, Emsley ran downstairs and called the fire department, but then his weak little heart just gave out from the excitement. Everyone else got out because of him. Nowadays that old phone rings even when it’s not connected.” The trucker laughed at Paul’s lack of enthusiasm, “I’ve been stopping at this inn for nearly a decade. The worst that’s happened is that the phone called 911 once. Emsley’s ghost is harmless.”
Paul glared at him, “Harmless until people stop booking our rooms because of a rumor that the place is haunted.”
“Well, if it helps any,” Dean said, “we were only here for the food in the first place so it’s not like you’re actually losing our business.”
“Actually,” Castiel spoke up, “we would like to book a room for tonight if you have any available.”
Dean looked away from Paul and the mystery trucker to find Cas looking straight at him. “I’m not sure you noticed, but one: you’ve got a flight to catch; and two: you’ve been sleeping for the majority of this drive already.”
“One: even if we slept for a full six hours, we’d still arrive at the airport with three hours before my departure time; and two: I don’t remember expressing my intentions in regards to getting more sleep.”
Paul put his best customer service face on and smiled between the two of them, “So that’ll just be one room, then?”
"Right, Paul," Dean looked back at their server, "What're the chances we can just get our food straight into a doggy bag?"
Paul gave them another polite smile, "I'll see what we can do," and excused himself.
When Dean met Cas' eyes once again, the layer of tension that had always sort of been there between them was exponentially stronger. The feeling was one Dean hadn't realized he missed. In his history of one-night stands, he found that this sort of tension, sexual or otherwise, never really made an appearance. One-night stands were simple and unattached from everything else in his life. It was comfortable and easy. And even if things went wrong they never went wrong in the way anyone really cared about beyond the hour.
Tension meant that maybe there was something at stake. That if things went wrong, they could go wrong in a way Dean might actually care enough about to regret. And, okay so Dean still had enough appendages to count the number of hours he and Cas had even been in each other's company, but he wasn't so emotionally stunted that he couldn't tell when maybe things were going to be something not quite like a one-night stand.
No, Dean's emotional stuntedness was only visible in his general unwillingness to readily admit that shit to other people.
They continued to sit in silence, staring at each other more than not, and while the overhanging tension was still there, Dean could only be grateful that it wasn't awkward. Sure, the way Cas was staring at him was probably making everyone else that was present feel incredibly awkward, but at the moment that was two grizzly truckers drinking wine and possibly a ghost.
Dean figured they could all probably handle a bit of eyefucking. And if Paul had a problem with it then maybe he should have brought them their food ten minutes ago.
But it was a non-issue because Paul dropped off their food-- with their room key and a quick explanation that all food and drinks would be taken care of upon check-out-- and had then immediately darted back into the kitchen.
Castiel stood and picked up their styrofoam boxes packed away neatly into white plastic bags. "Shall we?"
Dean grabbed the room key and attached keychain with their number and led their way back to the main foyer. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and nodded his head in the direction of the front doors. "Should we grab our bags?"
Cas looked at him quizzically, "For what?"
"Um. Clothes?"
Castiel took a step closer, "If you're under the impression that what we need at this moment is more clothes then I'm afraid I was too subtle in my intentions."
"Trust me, Cas, out of everything you may be, subtle isn't really one of them."
"Then, if you are aware and not opposed," Castiel took another step closer and slowly leaned in, gauging Dean's reaction before capturing his bottom lip in a fairly chaste kiss.
Dean indulged for a moment before pulling back and murmuring, "Maybe we should find our room."
Cas gave a slight nod in acquiescence and they eventually located their room at the end of one of the branches off of the main hallway.
Dean had a moment to take in the quaint wooden look of their room, tossing the room key onto the nightstand, while Cas set their food into the mini-fridge tucked into a corner of the room.
Dean sat at the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots and leaving his pants crumpled on the floor as Cas undressed methodically. His jeans and button-up were folded neatly and hung off the back of one of the chairs at the table. "Neat freak much?"
Castiel's back was turned to Dean as he reached down to pull off his socks. "I try to make it a point to minimize the amount of laundry that accumulates between leaving my home and arriving at the airport."
"Oh, ho. It looks like we've got a snark monster," Dean joked as he lifted his necklace over his head and set it beside his keys on the nightstand. A solid weight settled onto his boxer-brief clad lap while he was in the middle of pulling off his shirt.
Dean found a very unsurprisingly naked Castiel straddling his lap. "And how would you recommend Sam ward against a snark monster, Dean."
"Rule number one: salt, iron, or silver seems to work for a good chunk of monsters," Dean's right hand gripped Cas' hip as his left hand reached up around his neck, "and rule number All Of Them: do not bring up family members during sex." Dean pulled Cas forward for a thorough kiss. He nipped his way up Cas' jaw and groaned in his ear as the other man's fingers slipped under the elastic band of Dean's boxer-briefs, "Far from complaining, but I was honestly just expecting a lot of dirty jokes and maybe a quickie in the bathroom of a Love's rest stop, why the sudden change."
Castiel's fingers slowly began to stroke Dean into full hardness within the confines of his underwear, "I honestly cannot understand your fascination with sex in unsanitary locations."
Dean let out a throaty chuckle before fully lying back on the bed and tugging Cas down with him, shifting until they were closer to the center of the bed and neither of their feet were hanging off the edge. "Fuck, Cas, it's not about the location, it's the situation."
Dean lifted his hips and Cas sat back to pull off the remaining piece of clothing, leaving it around one ankle for Dean to kick off himself. Castiel immediately went back to his previous position over Dean, rolling their hips together and then leaning down to recapture lips and tongue. “Dea-” his breath hitched as Dean’s hips came up to meet his, “Dean Winchester, you are brilliant.”
Cas tilted his head back as Dean mouthed at his pulse point, “And you’re a bit of weirdo.”
“No, Dean, you’ve shown more initiative and passion for helping your brother get over his childhood horrors-” they hit a joint rhythm in their rutting and Castiel alternated between kissing Dean and panting against his cheek, “-than most of my students have ever shown for a field they currently intend to spend the rest of their lives in.”
Dean murmured against Cas’ lips, “I think you need a lesson on appropriate dirty talk.”
“And I think you need a lesson on what constitutes-” Castiel was cut-off as Dean surged up onto his elbows, forearms flat against the mattress and one arm snaking around to press against the small of Cas’ back.
“Shut up, Cas,” Dean growled before proceeding to flip their positions.
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean’s hand made its way between their bodies and suddenly speech didn’t seem very high on his list of priorities. And while most of his attention had focused on the slip and slide of their slick bodies and the sound of his own gasping breath as the growing concentration of heat below his navel finally reached its tipping point, there was still a small part of Castiel’s awareness that had zeroed in on Dean’s nose rubbing against his cheekbone and Dean’s smile pressed against the edge of his jaw.
Castiel opened his eyes, not even sure for how long they had been squeezed shut, and looked up into the bright green of Dean’s own. Cas reached down to help with the final handful of strokes as Dean dropped his head to huff stuttering breaths and moans against Cas’ shoulder as he came. They shared one final kiss before Dean rolled off of Cas and trod to the bathroom. He came back with a damp wad of toilet paper and helped clean up the sticky mess on Cas’ stomach. Tossing the wad into the trash-bin, Dean spotted Cas’ passport tucked under his wallet on the table. He picked it up and waved it questioningly at Cas, “You mind if I snoop?”
Castiel shrugged and Dean dropped face-down onto the bed next to him. He watched as Dean flipped through the light blue pages covered in stamps and visas and Castiel was unsurprised when Dean’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Why does it say ‘James’?”
“Because it’s my name.” Castiel-or-maybe-James said as he laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“You’re being intentionally difficult, aren’t you?”
Dean’s eyes were immediately drawn to the way Cas’s lips twitched. The other man looked like he was trying to hide a smile behind a frown and Dean found it oddly endearing. “I always wonder if someone might figure it out without my telling them, but generally everyone just gives up.”
“Was there a riddle somewhere?” Dean continued to stare at Cas’ lips, figuring they were the most straightforward of Castiel’s ridiculous quirks. “Okay, whatever, I give up.”
“‘Castiel’ was the name given to me by those who gave birth to me. ‘James’ I received upon confirmation.” It looked like Castiel’s lips had given up all pretenses of frowning. “It was recommended to me by the parents who raised me.”
“‘Confirmation’ is one of those religious ceremonies, right?” Cas nodded and Dean added, “You’re adopted.”
He nodded again, “Yes,” and gave another ridiculously endearing half-smile.
Dean tossed the passport onto the nightstand next to his keys and tucked an arm around his pillow. “It’s kind of ridiculous that you actually think that someone could ever guess that shit off the top of their head.”
Castiel clasped his hands together over his stomach. “Perhaps.”
Dean turned his face into his pillow to cover a small yawn, “Sorry to disappoint.”
There was a moment of shuffling as Castiel slipped under the blankets and nudged Dean to do the same. He set the alarm for six in the morning and then returned to his previous position lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. “You should stop caring so much about everyone else’s expectations.”
Dean grumbled some sort of acknowledgement, but it wasn’t long before they both drifted into sleep.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[ Castiel, where the hell are you?! When I said that I was afraid you’d be too distracted to make our flight, I was just taking the piss. ]
They had been back on the road for an hour and a half and Cas was actually awake in the passenger’s seat. Dean looked at him in amusement, having been able to catch bits and pieces of Balthazar’s words. “You didn’t tell him you were getting a ride?”
Castiel had the decency to look a little sheepish, but Dean wasn’t terribly convinced of his sincerity, “I may have forgotten to mention it, yes.”
[ Who the was that? Are you in bed with someone right now? And is that someone a certain green-eyed wonder? ]
“Not in bed at the moment, no. He’s giving me a ride to the airport.”
[ Shall we just meet inside the domestic terminals at that little soup shop you like so much? ]
“My apologies, I wasn’t clear. I’m getting a ride to LAX.”
Dean glanced over at him and said loudly so the phone would pick it up, “We should be arriving in a couple hours.”
There was a moment of silence as Balthazar let the information sink in. [ You sly dog, Cassie. It looks like we’ll have plenty to chat about when I see you. ]
“You are rarely without something to chat about, Balthazar. Have a safe flight and I’ll be at our gate when you land.” Cas ended the call and started taking inventory of his travel documents.
“I noticed last night that you’ve got a helluva lot of stamps in your passport there.”
Castiel hummed in acknowledgment, “Yes, I’ve fortunately had a chance to visit many different countries.”
“Yeah, but how many of those visits were really just you at a hotel doing your professor gig? Because trust me, there’s a difference between going to a country versus actually visiting it.”
Castiel bristled slightly in defense, “Despite what Balthazar may say, I do actually go out. You can’t properly experience the food and language of a foreign land within the confines of a hotel room.”
“Wasn’t accusing, just saying.”
“Of course,” Castiel said.
Dean grinned at him, taking a moment to appreciate the easy way they had settled back into their comfortable, if odd, friendship. They had woken up in bed that morning starving, only to remember the take-out still in the mini-fridge. There hadn’t really been any cuddling and there hadn’t been any crisis of labels. They had eaten their breakfast, Cas hadn’t had to do laundry, and a fun night had been had by all.
It wasn’t until Castiel was safely at the airport and the Impala was headed into the midwest that Dean realized they hadn’t actually exchanged contact information. But Dean figured that if they had managed without contact info thus far, then it couldn’t have been that big a deal.
In fact, he found that sort of uncertainty kind of thrilling.
[next: Ch. 06 Riox & Sioux]
Author: metchaky
Rating: R overall
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: use of characters throughout the entirety of the show, but no spoilers for plot
Warnings: none
Word Count: ~24,000[WIP]
Summary: Dean doesn't see why he should want to travel abroad when there's enough shit to see within the continental US to last a lifetime.
Castiel is fascinated by the language and culture of lands he's never been in.
Or: a series of snapshots from Dean's life within the context of Sam's. And maybe also more often than not in the context of Sam's former professor, Castiel.
A/N: I was debating whether or not to split this chapter in half, but ultimately decided not to. It's twice as long as average, but I figured that my chapters aren't based off of word-count, but topic. But if you feel it's a jarring change in the flow, then do let me know~
[ Beginning: Prologue ]
Ben had said his goodbyes when Dean dropped him off at the hotel in San Francisco that Matt and Lisa had finally arrived and checked-in at. It seemed that Ben was ready to believe Dean’s assurances that he wasn’t going to just drop off the radar because of Matt, which was a fact Dean was grateful for because he had other things on his mind and having Ben think he was being abandoned by Dean was something he knew he wouldn’t have been able to let go.
But Ben didn’t hate him; Lisa wasn’t barring him from seeing her son; Matt seemed like a genuinely nice guy; and so now Dean could go ahead and move on to the next task at hand, which was that he had once made the drive from San Francisco to Los Angeles in five hours with no stops (and no cops).
But Dean was pretty sure that this particular drive would not be one of his efficiently straightforward A to B trips.
Reason One was because he hadn’t fully filled his tank.
Reason Two was because he wasn’t taking I-5. He wasn’t even really taking US 101. In fact, Dean was taking SR 1, aka the extremely scenic Pacific Coast Highway.
Reason Three (and Dean was starting to think that Three might also be responsible for One and Two) was because he was sort of taking the trip as a personal challenge
Dean wasn’t a commuter and he hated the side-looks his baby got for not being one of the sleek, aerodynamic, 65 mpg plastic cars all the yuppies were driving around nowadays. He knew his mode of transportation wasn’t efficient and it grated on him that people acted like he was an idiot who simply didn’t understand and always felt the need to show him the error of his ways.
So far, Castiel hadn’t done that.
Sure, the guy had gone on about ‘Efficiency!’, but Dean had tried to get across ‘It’s not about that’ and Cas hadn’t written him off as ignorant. Cas had instead seemed genuinely interested in ‘Then what?’ So now Dean’s mental route was adding several hours to the expected trip duration and maybe a late-night refueling detour as well.
Dean checked his watch. He was standing in the north-side faculty parking garage and was scheduled to meet Cas at six-thirty PM. It was currently six twenty-eight and almost exactly two minutes later the elevator doors dinged open and Castiel took a moment to spot Dean before stepping out with a suitcase at his feet and a large messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.
“Dean.”
“Cas,” Dean acknowledged before popping open his trunk and offering to help load Cas’ luggage.
Castiel shook his head, “I’ll be keeping my messenger bag with me, if you don’t mind.”
Dean shut the trunk and eyed Castiel’s bag suspiciously, “You’re planning on doing work, aren’t you?”
Cas walked to the passenger’s seat as Dean got behind the wheel. “I’m fairly certain that was a rhetorical question, but I feel that it may be necessary to confirm that yes, I am planning to get some work done during this trip.” He climbed into the Impala, setting his bag down by his feet, “Will that be a problem?”
“Problem? Nah.” Dean started the engine and backed out, rolling down his window once they were out of the garage’s enclosure and in the open air, “I’ll just consider it ‘challenge accepted’.”
“So you’ll be making it your goal to prevent me from working?” Castiel looked out at the familiar streets of Berkeley, still crawling with students in the fading daylight, “Perhaps I should have read the fine writing.”
“The challenge isn’t to stop you from working. It’s to make it so you yourself don’t want to work,” Dean clarified.
“Technicality,” Cas said and pointedly pulled out a thick packet of papers (this one titled ’Collapse of the Fact/Value Dichotomy’) along with a ballpoint pen.
“Let me demonstrate the difference,” said Dean before he swerved into the unoccupied lane next to him and immediately did a series of brake-checks. Cas’ seatbelt locked into place and his pen flew onto the car’s dash as he lost his grip. “This sort of driving would be me preventing you from working.”
Castiel unbuckled his seatbelt and retrieved his pen from where it had gotten caught in a rivet by the windshield once the car steadied, “That sort of driving would have resulted in coffee splashed all over your leather seats.”
Dean popped in one of his favorite Zeppelin tapes. “From here on out it’s all persuasion.” He propped his left arm out his open window and stared straight at the road ahead.
Cas watched the San Francisco skyline as it grew smaller in the rearview and slowly let out one long breath before looking down at the paper in his hand and writing a quick comment in the margin about lack of clarity in the thesis. He quickly zoned himself out to the rest of the world and focused onto his grading. It wasn’t until a good ninety minutes of his head propped against the window frame did Castiel suddenly jerk out of his impromptu nap and realize he was stepping on the paper he had been trying to grade and his pen was wedged next to the door.
On his left Dean was mouthing along to Metallica and on his right the road fell away to the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean and the sun just beginning its descent. Castiel watched as the empty beaches passed by and strained to hear and smell the salty ocean waves, but was unsurprised when both were masked by the smell and sounds of the Impala.
“Welcome back to Earth.” Dean’s eyes briefly turned to Cas before flicking back to the road. “We’re just about at Big Sur.”
“I assumed you weren’t the touristy type.”
“Hey,” Dean defended, “It doesn’t count if it’s sitting on the highway we happen to be taking.”
“Actually, I was talking about these.” Castiel pulled a handful of pamphlets that he found tucked into the space between the passenger’s side door and the seat while reaching for his pen. “Grand Canyon, Area 51, Four Corners, Mount Rushmore... unless there’s an incredibly impractical highway that happens to pass through all of these?”
“You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?” Dean said with something akin to fondness. “Those were all places Ben wanted to visit.”
Cas leafed through the glossy papers, “I’d almost have expected you to discourage him.”
“You’ve made an awful lot of assumptions about me.” Dean tried to keep his voice light-hearted even if Cas sounded like he was getting ready to whip out a new list of expectations that Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to live up to.
Castiel looked at Dean, examining, “I believe it’s a base instinct for most, if not all, living creatures to prejudge their environment and the things that populate it.”
“Are you defending racism?”
There was a moment of silence as Castiel considered his answer, “Perhaps the right to be a racist, but not racism itself. Everyone has a right to thought, but only a person’s actions and intentions can justify prejudice.”
Dean gave Cas a skeptical glance, “You do realize all I’m getting is that you’re okay with bigots?”
“That’s not...” Castiel paused, then sighed, “You are free to hate whomever you want, but it cannot fuel your actions.”
“Unlike Vulcans, us humans are pretty shitty when it comes to separating emotions from what we do, but look, I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore.”
Castiel tucked the paper back into his bag, dusting off as much of his shoe print as possible, and then also tucked his bag under the seat. He stopped to recall the way Dean had acted with Ben. Even the way Dean had acted with Sam. “I simply meant to say that the reality of you, Dean Winchester, has so far exceeded all of my preconceived notions.”
Dean looked at Cas for a second, shaking his head, “Alright, Creepster McGee, we’ve been in each other’s presence for maybe a total of,” Dean made a show of doing fake mental calculations, “less than six hours. So don’t mind me if I just... don’t really take your word for it, cool?”
Castiel fell back to silently stare out at the scenery. “It’s easy to forget how big everything actually is when looking out an airplane window. You forget all the nooks and crannies.”
Dean remained quiet, but pulled into the next rest stop they reached. Castiel watched Dean get out of the card and turn around to walk towards an overgrown path twisting down through lush green forest. “Dean? The restrooms are located on the other end of the parking lot, not in the woods.”
Dean called back over his shoulder, “I never said anything about the bathroom.”
Castiel unbuckled and followed after, glad he had at least swapped out his suit for jeans and a short-sleeved button up. “It was a logical assumption since we pulled into a rest stop.”
Dean abruptly stopped and turned around, finding himself inches from Cas. He fought his socially trained instinct to step back, but felt that maybe this was one of those dominance things: first one to look away loses. “Maybe you should stop making so many assumptions.”
Cas didn’t even flinch, “You’re asking me to suspend a natural cognitive process that I can’t control.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Dean broke through the line of trees and stepped out onto an open beach without a soul in sight. The sun was low enough that the sky was beginning to darken, but it had yet another hour before it would fully set.
Castiel walked forward and inhaled the untainted smell of the ocean while picking up on the sound of sea lions barking in the distance. He watched curiously as Dean laid down on his back with his hands tucked under his head and looking for all intents and purposes about ready for an early evening nap. Castiel looked down at him quietly for a full minute and when it was clear Dean wasn’t planning on saying anything, Cas spoke up, “What are you doing?”
Dean cracked an eye open, “Enjoying nature.”
“It looks more like sleeping.”
“And yet here you are waking me up. Some people just have no manners.”
Castiel looked at his watch. “I do understand your idea of ‘it’s the journey not the destination’, but in this particular case there is a specific destination I’d like to get to in a timely manner.”
Dean didn’t even bother cracking open an eye, “God, both you and Sam, I swear... You told me that your flight doesn’t depart until around two in the afternoon tomorrow. It’s not even nine in the evening today. What exactly are you going to do at an airport if you arrive half a day early?”
“They have premium lounges with shower and sleeping facilities.”
“Must be nice to be a one percenter,” Dean muttered.
Castiel stared across the ocean water. “It seems that I’m not the only one with a tendency towards assumptions.”
“Whatever.” A few minutes of silence passed between the two. Dean laid unmoving on the sand and Cas stayed standing still beside him. “Dude, you’re not gonna peer pressure me into getting up and leaving by refusing to relax. Just frickin’ give it up and enjoy the fucking nature around you.”
“I think some of the sea lions on that bit of land off-shore may be mating and I’m not finding it particularly enjoyable.”
“Smart-ass.”
Castiel huffed and looked away from Dean. “The sun’s setting.”
“It’s a good thing my baby’s got these things called ‘headlights’.”
“I think your ass may be smarter than mine.”
“Mr. Novak, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”
“That quote would be more appropriate were you your brother.”
Cas waited another minute before finally settling into the sand next to Dean. He spotted a plane in the sky above them and his thoughts flooded with perspective and scale and the mysteries of the universe. Time passed and Castiel let the overwhelming presence of nature trigger memories of parks and people he hadn’t thought of in years.
Eventually Dean stood up, dusting the sand off the back of his clothes. “We’ll have to stop for gas in another hour or so. We can grab a late dinner then.” He made his way back to the small path towards the car.
Castiel didn’t follow him.
Dean turned back and saw the slight shiver that ran through Cas as the early evening chill began to creep in. “What happened to all that enthusiasm to get back on the road?”
“I think,” Castiel said, finally getting up and turning towards Dean, “the most regretful aspect of travelling by airplane is the inability to roll down the windows.”
“There may be hope for you yet,” Dean declared as he threw an arm over Cas’ shoulders. “Though to be fair, you may not get open windows, but you do have the mile-high club.”
“Completely impractical. I find it questionable that the on-board restrooms found on most planes would be able to provide enough room for any sex to be completely satisfying.” Castiel pressed in closer to Dean’s side, making sure to avoid stepping on his feet in the process.
Dean dropped his arm as they reached the Impala. “You can have satisfying sex anytime, but you can’t have mile-high sex just anywhere.”
Castiel got into the car and waited for Dean to slide behind the wheel before responding, “It seems that, once again, we may have different priorities.”
“It’s not like the two are mutually exclusive.” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Cas once they were back on the Pacific Coast Highway, “Just sayin’ that if I got you into a cramped airplane bathroom, you wouldn’t be questioning your satisfaction.” He casually looked back at the road, knowing full well that he might have overstepped his bounds, but mostly confident that he hadn’t.
And if Dean had expected Cas to take a moment to gather himself, he would’ve been disappointed because almost immediately Castiel replied, “As an academic I try not to commit to an idea without hard evidence.”
“You’re trying to seduce me-”
“Not even thirty minutes have passed since you last used that reference.”
Dean grinned into the wind whipping in from the open windows, “Still applies.”
Castiel stifled a yawn.
“It’s like, ten-before-nine right now,” Dean said in amusement.
Cas thumped his head against the edge of the open window’s frame, “I have been getting up at five o’clock every morning this past week to ensure that any outstanding business would be settled before I left.”
“Okay, old man, take your nap and I’ll wake you up when we stop for gas and grub.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Castiel rolled up his window and slipped off his shoes.
Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Cas balled up his overcoat and tucked it between his head and the window’s glass. Eventually Cas’ breathing evened out and Dean once again found himself oddly comforted by the simple presence of another person.
And if this time around that ‘other person’ happened to be a hot guy he’d been exchanging completely obvious flirtations with instead of his twelve year old not-exactly-son, well... Dean could do worse.
At a quarter past eleven, Dean started keeping an eye out for exits. The fuel light had yet to ping on, but he could read his sweetheart better than the built-in indicators and he knew he’d only have another forty-five minutes before he’d actually be running on empty. Dean saw signs for a city a little further inland and he was pulling into a small gas station within the hour.
“Alright, Sleeping Beauty, time to refuel.”
Cas didn’t budge.
Dean leaned across the seat and scraped just the tip of his index fingernail feather-light down Cas’ cheek.
Castiel twitched, mouth falling into a frown and one hand coming up to instinctively swat at the area.
Dean tried again, running his fingernail lightly from Cas’ adam’s apple up to his chin.
This time Castiel jerked awake, eyes wide, and his fingers reflexively snapped around Dean’s wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Waking you up.”
Castiel looked down to where he was still gripping Dean’s wrist and slowly loosened his fingers. “There are better methods you could have employed that don’t involve mimicking an insect crawling on my face.”
They both climbed out of the car and Castiel stretched as Dean worked the pump. “Hey, Cas, you wanna run inside and check where the closest food joint that’d still be open is? It’ll probably be an IHOP or a really shady burrito place, welcome to California.”
“Or the Hammersky Inn. Their kitchens are ‘open twenty-four seven!’ And that’s their exclamation point, not mine.” Castiel nodded towards an ancient-looking, though well-kept, estate across the road and the large black and white sign from which he had been reading.
Dean didn’t agree with the exclamation point, “Inns always serve that dainty brunch crap.”
“Your criteria were: ‘closest’, ‘food joint’, and ‘still open’. It’s nearly midnight and we’re surrounded by vineyards; if they’re still serving brunch then they are wrong.”
“Well then,” Dean said as he twisted his gas cap back in place, “I’d hate to deny you the chance to right such a wrong. And that place looks like someone’s house. You sure it’s an actual business?”
“I am not the one who wrote the sign, Dean.”
“No, but we’ll be the ones eating soylent green for believing it.”
Castiel looked back at the looming inn while Dean parked his car in an actual spot. They both crossed the empty road towards the inn and down the winding path that took them through a lush vineyard. The lobby was a small desk set up in the large foyer of the house and an old man sat behind it reading a yellowing paperback.
“Food,” Dean informed the man.
The attendant looked up before turning his head to look into an adjacent brightly lit room. Dean and Castiel looked along with him and saw that the inn was obviously bigger than they had initially thought. Beyond a set of spiraling stairs was a large dining room where a couple truckers sat looking out of place next to the polished wood of the decor.
Suddenly there was a shrill ringing and their attention snapped back to the desk and the ancient-looking brass phone sitting atop it. The attendant eyed the phone warily and said, “Grab a seat and Paul will be out to help you.”
The phone eventually stopped ringing, the man went back to his book, and Dean and Castiel made their way to one of the booths against the window. Dean was pleased to see that the breakfast menus were out and it didn’t take long for Paul to come out and take their orders (waffles for Dean, biscuits and gravy for Cas, and an extra side of bacon and sausage for both).
Castiel rubbed his shoulders as he slowly stretched out his neck. “I’m not sure I will ever get used to sleeping while sitting up.”
“No worries,” Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and breathed it in, “another four hours and you’ll have your premium lounge.”
Cas looked up from his own cup of coffee, “I do apologize for spending so much of this trip asleep.”
Dean waved him off, “Sam used to knock out the moment the car started moving.” He paused for a moment, “But then, Sammy used to have really bad nightmares when he was a kid and ‘the monsters’ would keep him up most nights.”
“And did you help him overcome his fear or were you the type of brother who had convinced him monsters existed in the first place?”
Castiel watched Dean carefully as he considered his answer. The corners of his lips had quirked up into a small smile and his eyes brightened just the tiniest bit. “Neither. Mom and Dad were the ones to check under his bed, in the closet, and even behind the damn curtains. But Sam was never convinced. Thought that they’d have to be really shitty monsters to hide in obvious places.”
Castiel watched the bob of Dean’s throat when he paused to down the rest of his coffee. “So your tactic was...?”
“Well ya’ see... Sammy’d get specific with certain monsters. Sometimes it’d just be normal vampires and zombies, but other times it’d be something that could mimic a human voice or maybe feed on you for weeks before you noticed.” Dean gave Cas a small nod of thanks as he poured out more coffee. “So I started looking up local lore. Would teach Sam these obscure ‘protection sigils’ I’d find in library books. And it helped for awhile. Until he grew into an angsty teenager.”
Castiel could tell Dean had skimmed over something important. Something that had dulled the corners of his smile and had brought the story to a premature end. “Stories of the supernatural permeate cultures on a global and historic scale. It is not illogical to assume that they have some basis in reality.”
“Trust me, I know.” Dean leaned forward on his elbows, “I mean, you’ve got the really obvious touristy shit they put out there to sell keychains like Jackalopes and Chupacabras. But the stuff they don’t tell you is the stuff they actually believe. For example," Dean looked around and waved Paul, their server, over.
Paul gave them a polite smile, “Your orders will be out in a little bit, sorry for the wait.”
Dean smiled up at him charmingly, “Tell me about the old phone you guys’ve got out there.”
Castiel tilted his head at Dean in curiosity.
Paul pursed his lips and threw a glance towards the foyer. “If you need to make a call we do have a phone at the front-”
“Nope,” Dean interrupted, “I’m talking about the antique one on the desk that was ringing earlier. Nobody answered it.”
One of the truckers let out a big laugh and asked, “Is ol’ Emsley still pulling the alarm?”
Dean grinned knowingly and Paul let out a sound of frustration. “It’s just a glitch in the phone-line.”
The trucker ignored him and turned his chair to face Dean and Cas’ booth. “Story goes that Emsley used to work here back in the forties. Fire broke out, Emsley ran downstairs and called the fire department, but then his weak little heart just gave out from the excitement. Everyone else got out because of him. Nowadays that old phone rings even when it’s not connected.” The trucker laughed at Paul’s lack of enthusiasm, “I’ve been stopping at this inn for nearly a decade. The worst that’s happened is that the phone called 911 once. Emsley’s ghost is harmless.”
Paul glared at him, “Harmless until people stop booking our rooms because of a rumor that the place is haunted.”
“Well, if it helps any,” Dean said, “we were only here for the food in the first place so it’s not like you’re actually losing our business.”
“Actually,” Castiel spoke up, “we would like to book a room for tonight if you have any available.”
Dean looked away from Paul and the mystery trucker to find Cas looking straight at him. “I’m not sure you noticed, but one: you’ve got a flight to catch; and two: you’ve been sleeping for the majority of this drive already.”
“One: even if we slept for a full six hours, we’d still arrive at the airport with three hours before my departure time; and two: I don’t remember expressing my intentions in regards to getting more sleep.”
Paul put his best customer service face on and smiled between the two of them, “So that’ll just be one room, then?”
"Right, Paul," Dean looked back at their server, "What're the chances we can just get our food straight into a doggy bag?"
Paul gave them another polite smile, "I'll see what we can do," and excused himself.
When Dean met Cas' eyes once again, the layer of tension that had always sort of been there between them was exponentially stronger. The feeling was one Dean hadn't realized he missed. In his history of one-night stands, he found that this sort of tension, sexual or otherwise, never really made an appearance. One-night stands were simple and unattached from everything else in his life. It was comfortable and easy. And even if things went wrong they never went wrong in the way anyone really cared about beyond the hour.
Tension meant that maybe there was something at stake. That if things went wrong, they could go wrong in a way Dean might actually care enough about to regret. And, okay so Dean still had enough appendages to count the number of hours he and Cas had even been in each other's company, but he wasn't so emotionally stunted that he couldn't tell when maybe things were going to be something not quite like a one-night stand.
No, Dean's emotional stuntedness was only visible in his general unwillingness to readily admit that shit to other people.
They continued to sit in silence, staring at each other more than not, and while the overhanging tension was still there, Dean could only be grateful that it wasn't awkward. Sure, the way Cas was staring at him was probably making everyone else that was present feel incredibly awkward, but at the moment that was two grizzly truckers drinking wine and possibly a ghost.
Dean figured they could all probably handle a bit of eyefucking. And if Paul had a problem with it then maybe he should have brought them their food ten minutes ago.
But it was a non-issue because Paul dropped off their food-- with their room key and a quick explanation that all food and drinks would be taken care of upon check-out-- and had then immediately darted back into the kitchen.
Castiel stood and picked up their styrofoam boxes packed away neatly into white plastic bags. "Shall we?"
Dean grabbed the room key and attached keychain with their number and led their way back to the main foyer. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and nodded his head in the direction of the front doors. "Should we grab our bags?"
Cas looked at him quizzically, "For what?"
"Um. Clothes?"
Castiel took a step closer, "If you're under the impression that what we need at this moment is more clothes then I'm afraid I was too subtle in my intentions."
"Trust me, Cas, out of everything you may be, subtle isn't really one of them."
"Then, if you are aware and not opposed," Castiel took another step closer and slowly leaned in, gauging Dean's reaction before capturing his bottom lip in a fairly chaste kiss.
Dean indulged for a moment before pulling back and murmuring, "Maybe we should find our room."
Cas gave a slight nod in acquiescence and they eventually located their room at the end of one of the branches off of the main hallway.
Dean had a moment to take in the quaint wooden look of their room, tossing the room key onto the nightstand, while Cas set their food into the mini-fridge tucked into a corner of the room.
Dean sat at the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots and leaving his pants crumpled on the floor as Cas undressed methodically. His jeans and button-up were folded neatly and hung off the back of one of the chairs at the table. "Neat freak much?"
Castiel's back was turned to Dean as he reached down to pull off his socks. "I try to make it a point to minimize the amount of laundry that accumulates between leaving my home and arriving at the airport."
"Oh, ho. It looks like we've got a snark monster," Dean joked as he lifted his necklace over his head and set it beside his keys on the nightstand. A solid weight settled onto his boxer-brief clad lap while he was in the middle of pulling off his shirt.
Dean found a very unsurprisingly naked Castiel straddling his lap. "And how would you recommend Sam ward against a snark monster, Dean."
"Rule number one: salt, iron, or silver seems to work for a good chunk of monsters," Dean's right hand gripped Cas' hip as his left hand reached up around his neck, "and rule number All Of Them: do not bring up family members during sex." Dean pulled Cas forward for a thorough kiss. He nipped his way up Cas' jaw and groaned in his ear as the other man's fingers slipped under the elastic band of Dean's boxer-briefs, "Far from complaining, but I was honestly just expecting a lot of dirty jokes and maybe a quickie in the bathroom of a Love's rest stop, why the sudden change."
Castiel's fingers slowly began to stroke Dean into full hardness within the confines of his underwear, "I honestly cannot understand your fascination with sex in unsanitary locations."
Dean let out a throaty chuckle before fully lying back on the bed and tugging Cas down with him, shifting until they were closer to the center of the bed and neither of their feet were hanging off the edge. "Fuck, Cas, it's not about the location, it's the situation."
Dean lifted his hips and Cas sat back to pull off the remaining piece of clothing, leaving it around one ankle for Dean to kick off himself. Castiel immediately went back to his previous position over Dean, rolling their hips together and then leaning down to recapture lips and tongue. “Dea-” his breath hitched as Dean’s hips came up to meet his, “Dean Winchester, you are brilliant.”
Cas tilted his head back as Dean mouthed at his pulse point, “And you’re a bit of weirdo.”
“No, Dean, you’ve shown more initiative and passion for helping your brother get over his childhood horrors-” they hit a joint rhythm in their rutting and Castiel alternated between kissing Dean and panting against his cheek, “-than most of my students have ever shown for a field they currently intend to spend the rest of their lives in.”
Dean murmured against Cas’ lips, “I think you need a lesson on appropriate dirty talk.”
“And I think you need a lesson on what constitutes-” Castiel was cut-off as Dean surged up onto his elbows, forearms flat against the mattress and one arm snaking around to press against the small of Cas’ back.
“Shut up, Cas,” Dean growled before proceeding to flip their positions.
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean’s hand made its way between their bodies and suddenly speech didn’t seem very high on his list of priorities. And while most of his attention had focused on the slip and slide of their slick bodies and the sound of his own gasping breath as the growing concentration of heat below his navel finally reached its tipping point, there was still a small part of Castiel’s awareness that had zeroed in on Dean’s nose rubbing against his cheekbone and Dean’s smile pressed against the edge of his jaw.
Castiel opened his eyes, not even sure for how long they had been squeezed shut, and looked up into the bright green of Dean’s own. Cas reached down to help with the final handful of strokes as Dean dropped his head to huff stuttering breaths and moans against Cas’ shoulder as he came. They shared one final kiss before Dean rolled off of Cas and trod to the bathroom. He came back with a damp wad of toilet paper and helped clean up the sticky mess on Cas’ stomach. Tossing the wad into the trash-bin, Dean spotted Cas’ passport tucked under his wallet on the table. He picked it up and waved it questioningly at Cas, “You mind if I snoop?”
Castiel shrugged and Dean dropped face-down onto the bed next to him. He watched as Dean flipped through the light blue pages covered in stamps and visas and Castiel was unsurprised when Dean’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Why does it say ‘James’?”
“Because it’s my name.” Castiel-or-maybe-James said as he laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“You’re being intentionally difficult, aren’t you?”
Dean’s eyes were immediately drawn to the way Cas’s lips twitched. The other man looked like he was trying to hide a smile behind a frown and Dean found it oddly endearing. “I always wonder if someone might figure it out without my telling them, but generally everyone just gives up.”
“Was there a riddle somewhere?” Dean continued to stare at Cas’ lips, figuring they were the most straightforward of Castiel’s ridiculous quirks. “Okay, whatever, I give up.”
“‘Castiel’ was the name given to me by those who gave birth to me. ‘James’ I received upon confirmation.” It looked like Castiel’s lips had given up all pretenses of frowning. “It was recommended to me by the parents who raised me.”
“‘Confirmation’ is one of those religious ceremonies, right?” Cas nodded and Dean added, “You’re adopted.”
He nodded again, “Yes,” and gave another ridiculously endearing half-smile.
Dean tossed the passport onto the nightstand next to his keys and tucked an arm around his pillow. “It’s kind of ridiculous that you actually think that someone could ever guess that shit off the top of their head.”
Castiel clasped his hands together over his stomach. “Perhaps.”
Dean turned his face into his pillow to cover a small yawn, “Sorry to disappoint.”
There was a moment of shuffling as Castiel slipped under the blankets and nudged Dean to do the same. He set the alarm for six in the morning and then returned to his previous position lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. “You should stop caring so much about everyone else’s expectations.”
Dean grumbled some sort of acknowledgement, but it wasn’t long before they both drifted into sleep.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
[ Castiel, where the hell are you?! When I said that I was afraid you’d be too distracted to make our flight, I was just taking the piss. ]
They had been back on the road for an hour and a half and Cas was actually awake in the passenger’s seat. Dean looked at him in amusement, having been able to catch bits and pieces of Balthazar’s words. “You didn’t tell him you were getting a ride?”
Castiel had the decency to look a little sheepish, but Dean wasn’t terribly convinced of his sincerity, “I may have forgotten to mention it, yes.”
[ Who the was that? Are you in bed with someone right now? And is that someone a certain green-eyed wonder? ]
“Not in bed at the moment, no. He’s giving me a ride to the airport.”
[ Shall we just meet inside the domestic terminals at that little soup shop you like so much? ]
“My apologies, I wasn’t clear. I’m getting a ride to LAX.”
Dean glanced over at him and said loudly so the phone would pick it up, “We should be arriving in a couple hours.”
There was a moment of silence as Balthazar let the information sink in. [ You sly dog, Cassie. It looks like we’ll have plenty to chat about when I see you. ]
“You are rarely without something to chat about, Balthazar. Have a safe flight and I’ll be at our gate when you land.” Cas ended the call and started taking inventory of his travel documents.
“I noticed last night that you’ve got a helluva lot of stamps in your passport there.”
Castiel hummed in acknowledgment, “Yes, I’ve fortunately had a chance to visit many different countries.”
“Yeah, but how many of those visits were really just you at a hotel doing your professor gig? Because trust me, there’s a difference between going to a country versus actually visiting it.”
Castiel bristled slightly in defense, “Despite what Balthazar may say, I do actually go out. You can’t properly experience the food and language of a foreign land within the confines of a hotel room.”
“Wasn’t accusing, just saying.”
“Of course,” Castiel said.
Dean grinned at him, taking a moment to appreciate the easy way they had settled back into their comfortable, if odd, friendship. They had woken up in bed that morning starving, only to remember the take-out still in the mini-fridge. There hadn’t really been any cuddling and there hadn’t been any crisis of labels. They had eaten their breakfast, Cas hadn’t had to do laundry, and a fun night had been had by all.
It wasn’t until Castiel was safely at the airport and the Impala was headed into the midwest that Dean realized they hadn’t actually exchanged contact information. But Dean figured that if they had managed without contact info thus far, then it couldn’t have been that big a deal.
In fact, he found that sort of uncertainty kind of thrilling.
[next: Ch. 06 Riox & Sioux]