a better method of pretending (dean/cas big bang 2k11) (5)
They don’t speak that morning, and Dean thinks it’s for the better. He knows he’s not being very good about this but words were never his strong point unless he had them perfectly planned out beforehand. And with Castiel, he has no idea how to do that. He doesn’t have the first clue on how to say, “I’m going away,” but sooner or later it’ll happen and Cas will get it. That’ll be the end of it, Dean thinks as he watches Cas’ car drive away. Cas had shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed his coat and left, simple as that. Dean sips at his coffee but it tastes even more bitter than usual. He steps back into the kitchen and pours the remainder down the sink before rinsing out his mug and setting it on the counter with their plates from last night.
He picks them up and rinses them off more thoroughly before beginning to scrub with his old sponge. He makes a mental note to go to the store today and pick up some more food and new sponges. Finishes cleaning the dishes and puts them away when he has them dry - he wonders why he didn’t just put them in the dishwasher for a second but then just wipes his hands and moves to the kitchen table.
He sets a pad of paper in front of him and clicks a pen, writing down all the things he needs.
He doesn’t stop at kitchen supplies, or other household necessities.
His hand is shaking when he finishes.
-
“Did you finally break it off with your boyfriend?”
Cas looks up, mouth agape. “What?” he asks breathily as Uriel begins to laugh. “What - What does that mean?” he manages pathetically, drinking deeply from his beer. He tries to keep himself together, shaking his head and laughing, avoiding Uriel’s stare.
“Come on, Cas.” Uriel’s voice is half-mocking, joking with him. “You act like everyone doesn’t know.”
Cas looks up just enough to glare. “Who’s everybody?” he inquires suspiciously.
Uriel leans back as a waitress brings them over their food. Cas gives her a soft thank you and she smiles at him - she’s got a brilliantly pretty smile and she looks about twenty four; he catalogues these things for…For what? For later. He bites his tongue at the thought because he can’t repress it and looks back just in time to see Uriel nod at the girl and give Cas a knowing smirk.
Cas grabs the ketchup and squirts too much next to his side serving of fries before he cuts at his oversized burger. America - fucking figures.
He eats slowly and he can hear Uriel going at his food too, and he hopes the subject is dropped.
But of course not. That could never be. It’s Uriel, after all.
“It’s just a thing. Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re in trouble, no one can really prove it, anyway. I mean, you’re not extremely discreet but it’s not like people are following you.” Uriel chuckles and wipes his hands with his cloth napkin. “So is it true? You two had a fight or something?”
“Jesus, Uriel!” Cas shoots him a glare and squirms in his seat. “How do you - Who gave you this information? This bullshit?”
Uriel is giving him that knowing look again, though it’s less of a smirk this time, more worried. “From a pretty reliable source. Alright, okay, I exaggerated…Lied.”
Cas cocks both an eyebrow, waiting for Uriel to continue. “Anna told me you’ve been brooding. I filled in the pieces.”
“Anna? That…” He wants to call her a bad name but resists, biting his tongue again. “It’s none of your business, Uriel. If I’m dating anyone, whether it be Dean Smith or an ex-con from Australia -”
“Dean Smith?” and oh shit, Anna hadn’t told him that much. Castiel groans and leans back. “You’re fucking - You’re - Cas!”
Cas rolls his eyes, suddenly very irritated with dinner. He grabs a French fry and chomps at it, frowning at Uriel. “It was…hypothetical,” he defends weakly then sighs when Uriel looks unimpressed. “Fine, but whatever, you don’t have to put it that way. We never really…well, you know, sure, there was kind of a falling out, but it’s not like we were anything special.”
“You’re a liar,” Uriel says confidently and that annoys Cas further. “You’ve been changing. It’s kind of hard to miss. You smile a lot more. You’re not as sarcastic. And even though I miss it…It's natural. You didn’t change for him…Y…you changed because of him.”
Cas ducks his head to try to hide his embarrassment, staring at the remainder of his food.
“Can we…drop it?” he asks in a mumble. “Because I don’t really…I don’t know what really happened, and I kind of don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, I mean. And I don’t - I don’t really even know if I actually, if we’re really…Like, if it’s…Whatever, you know, over or something? I could be overreacting, or maybe, I don’t know, it’s been a bad day or something. I’m just tired.”
He knows that usually Uriel would push so he gives him a minute to do exactly that. When he doesn’t, Cas looks up warily.
“Thank you.”
-
Cas calls, but doesn’t ever leaves messages. Twice on Monday and then once Tuesday morning before Dean gets ready to go to work. He looks at the phone as it rings in his hand, the Caller ID flashing Cas’ cell phone number, and he wonders if Cas knows that he even has Caller ID. He sets the phone back into his cradle and looks at the clock.
He’s late, and he has to pick up Sam.
He hurries out just as the phone stops, pulling it jacket on over his button up and getting into the car. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Tomorrow’s his last day. He needs to give Zachariah an answer by tomorrow.
And he’s made his decision, hasn’t he? Just cut off things clean. He hasn’t talked to Sam about it, or anyone else at all for that matter besides mentioning to Jo on the phone that he might be leaving Cleveland soon. He knows that once he gives his answer to Zach it’s going to spread like wildfire and that he’ll be stuck with a very angry Sam and probably glares from Ruby until he can get out.
But it’ll be worth it.
He turns the radio on, listening as an announcer drones on about some baseball or football or soccer game that happened last night. It’s just a distraction, something to listen to before he gets Sam chattering pleasantly as he always does in the morning.
Ten minutes later he’s at Sam’s and Sam gets out of his apartment with a quick grin, sign of his high spirits. It shouldn’t make Dean sad but it does, and he decides that of course he’s going to be a little sad but he can’t really avoid that, can he?
And it’s…It’s not Cleveland. And that lifts a weight off of his shoulders, just thinking about it. Getting out of Ohio, Ohio where nothing happens, where people just seem to wander around all lonely.
“Dean?”
Dean glances at Sam. “Sorry, what was that? I was unfocused.”
Sam snorts. “Clearly.” But he doesn’t repeat himself, eyes casting down. “You’ve been weird all week, actually.”
“Have I?” Dean says, keeping his tone light as he turns at a stoplight, watching other cars pass with bored eyes. “I haven’t noticed.”
Sam hums and it’s disbelieving. “Of course you haven’t. I mean, you just seem…different. Like you’re off center. Did something happen?” He can feel Sam’s gaze but he doesn’t look back. “I mean, you know, between you and Cas.”
Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “What does it matter?” he asks gruffly.
“There you go!” Sam throws his arms up though he can’t really reach anything in the car, he’s so big. “You just proved my point completely, Dean. Since when did you…and I - I mean, you’re just different and I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.” Dean feels suddenly guilty at Sam’s voice, kind of remembers that he’s Sam’s best friend but this hurts him, too. He doesn’t want to leave Sam, or Cas. He just wants to leave everything else.
“You wouldn’t forgive me if I told you.” The words are out before he can stop them, and Sam’s gaze is much sharper this time, eyes narrowed. Dean throws him a desperate glance, pleading with his eyes. “Please, Sam, let it go.”
“Oh, no fucking way,” Sam growls and Dean wished this hadn’t happened. “You can’t say shit like that and not expect a reaction. Did you and Cas have a fight - Did you do something really stupid this time because do you realize how goddamned lucky you a-”
“Stop!” His voice is louder than he had meant and he turns into the parking lot, wheels screeching against pavement. But Sam goes quiet, dips his head down and doesn’t look up until he’s parked. “Look, Sam…”
“Never mind,” Sam answers, voice stiff. “You have your own shit to deal with, I get that, but I just wish you’d trust me enough to tell me….to tell me something, Dean. We’re friends, right? Pretty good friends, unless I somehow…misread it, or whatever. Our relationship, I thought we were close, and I never bug you for details but now it just…It doesn’t feel like you’re keeping yourself safe. It just feels like you’re hiding from me. From…everyone, actually. I know you have your rough spots, but I wish you’d just…you’d let me help you.”
Dean can’t help but be affected by Sam’s raw voice and he opens his car door, stepping out and then leaning against the side. He doesn’t want to go back there.
“You don’t want to know. It’d be easier if you didn’t.”
“You know that’s a lie.”
Yes, he does. But lying is also a lot easier.
He closes his eyes and feels the sun beating down on his face. It doesn’t feel comfortable; it just leaves an itch on his skin, sweat sticking his clothes to his body. He puts his hands in his pants pocket and lets out a long sigh. Sam’s still waiting for him.
“I’m leaving.”
Silence.
“For good. Relocating. I’m taking Zach’s job and moving there.”
A sharp intake of breath. “You weren’t going to tell me?” he whispers, but Dean can hear him loud and clear.
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone, not really,” he admits, bowing his head. “It’s just…It’s too hard.”
“To be honest to people? To the people you care about?” Sam is obviously angry and this is the whole point.
He spins around to face Sam over the car. “This is exactly what the fuck I was trying to avoid!” he snaps and he’s surprised by how upset he sounds when he had just meant to get his point across. “I don’t want to hurt you! I don’t want to deal with you hating me for - For however long. It’s not like you weren’t gonna find out, I just…It’s easier to let go.”
“Is it?”
Sam’s eyes fade, become lighter.
Dean has to walk away.
-
Castiel puts on a tie. Checks his hair in the mirror, wipes his hands over his face. He’s being an idiot but he doesn’t have a choice. Dean’s not answering his calls.
The phone rings. He moves out of the bathroom and frowns when he recognizes Sam’s cell phone number on his Caller ID. He clicks the ‘talk’ button and holds the phone to his ear. “Sam?” he asks confusedly.
“Cas, thank God you’re home.”
Cas turns, frowning, thinking this is some kind of prank or an actual emergency. He stays guarded. “What’s wrong, Sam, why are you calling me?”
“It’s…Dean.” Sam sighs and Cas tilts his head back, just getting more confused. “He told me something that he hasn’t told you.”
Cas tenses. “And you’re calling me…why?”
“Because I think you deserve to know,” he answers and he sounds out of breath. Cas doesn’t bother asking why. “He wants to leave.”
This catches Cas by surprised. “Leave…what?” he asks confusedly. “What do you mean? You’re not making any sense, Sam.”
“He’s going to leave Cleveland. Ohio, in fact. He wants to move to New York. He was offered a better job, a better position, and he wants to take it. He told me this morning only because I confronted him. I have a feeling he might have…He probably already has…hurt you. Not purposely, but he can be…an idiot, you know? He’s a little oblivious. He doesn’t know what his actions mean.”
Cas puts his hand over his mouth and swallows. He finally falls back against the wall and his suit jacket drags up as he slides down.
Dean. Leaving. Gone.
It shouldn’t do this to him. Make him so shaky and sweaty. He blinks and a single tear rolls down his face. How did he fall so easily? Become so…weak?
“Cas? You still there?”
“I’m still here,” Cas manages, unable to keep the hoarseness out of his voice. “He told you this?”
“Yeah, he told me he wasn’t going to, too. Like, what was he gonna do? Just try to hide it? I don’t know when he has to make his decision or anything, he walked away, but he still…He owes me a ride home, I think so.”
“No.” Cas’ voice is sharp and surprises him - he blinks again and there are more tears but he ignores them, just swiping at them with his palm before finishing. “I mean, uh, could you please…take a bus tonight? I know public transportation sucks here but…” He trails off and winces at how rude he sounds. “But I want to see him. Tonight.”
There’s a moment of silence from Sam. Then, “Yeah. Yeah, you should do that. Surprise him. I think that’s a good idea. Talk some sense into him.”
“Yeah, I’ll try,” he agrees but in his head he knows it’ll never work. He thinks Sam probably knows, too. Dean isn’t someone you talk sense into, and if he truly believes that leaving Ohio is the best option then he’ll do it no matter what Cas does or says, and if Sam can’t even keep him anchored, then how will Cas do it? He smiles at the prospect, at the challenge he already knows he’s going to fail.
But he has to try. He has to.
-
“Hey, Dean?”
Dean glances up and gives Sam a half-smile, hoping to mend whatever wounds he may have opened at least a little. Sam smiles back and that’s a start, even if it’s false. “What’s up?” Dean asks, beginning to gather up some files that had been cluttering his desk. He’s got a little envelope, too, all prepared to slide under Zachariah’s office door when he goes home tonight, printed on nice paper with a pristine font and perfect black ink.
“I’m not going to need a ride tonight.”
Dean’s heart drops. “Oh?” he manages, licking his lips. “Why is that?”
Sam’s still smiling, though it’s a little sad. “I’m going to take a bus. I have money. Don’t worry about me. And hey if you…make your decision tonight, if you tell Zach you’re leaving, then…good luck. I have no - I don’t have any right to tell you that you have to say. If you wanna leave, why should I hold you back?” Sam looks embarrassed and Dean feels horror in his stomach.
“You’re not holding me back,” he says quietly, not standing. Sam leans against the doorway, an arm folded over his chest protectively. That smile still plastered onto his face. “You’re still my best friend.”
“Nothing can make you stay?” Sam’s voice is so quiet Dean barely catches the words. He swallows and looks down at his desk, still a little out of order.
“I don’t think anything could make me stay,” he admits, and he really believes it for that moment. He hasn’t seen Cas in a couple of days and at this rate he’ll be able to tear apart from him easily. He could just…leave. Never answer his calls and disappear to New York. It’d be a fucking romantic comedy except without any of the comedy. Without much of the romance, either.
For a brief second he remembers Cas’ face when he had come. His mouth wrapped around his cock. His smile after he kissed Dean. His eyes when they went out together. How bright they were.
He feels guilty.
Not guilty enough.
“Well, it’s not like I’m….not gonna see you again, but.” Sam shrugs and looks around the office. “You’re probably only gonna be around for what, like a month? That’s not very long. Please don’t just…disappear, you know. Keep coming to lunch. Let me come over.”
Dean bites his lip. “You don’t think a clean break would be easier?”
“Not when you’re right there.”
Dean realizes how broken Sam’s voice is and has to look away because he’s sure his eyes are even worse. He hadn’t meant to do this. He never wanted to make Sam so close to tears.
He takes a breath through his nose. “Yeah, that’s fine. Shouldn’t - Shouldn’t you be going?” He doesn’t really know what time it is, but the sun is sinking outside. They could both be going home, together if they wanted to. Dean could take Sam back to his apartment and maybe they could get drunk and watch old Batman or Superman movies and laugh and laugh until their guts hurt.
But no. It’s not that easy.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam says softly. “Don’t stay too late, okay?”
Dean nods. “Of course. ’Night, Sam.”
Sam smiles again. “G’night, Dean.”
-
Cas has to drive with two hands on the wheel he’s shaking so hard. He had already done his fair bit of crying - Which, honestly, hadn’t been that much, but for him? For him it was a lot, and now he’s navigating his way through the dark, the same route he had taken for two weeks in a row to get to the building in the heart of Cleveland, through the traffic lights and past pedestrians on the corner of streets holding cigarettes or laughing, carefree.
He takes a sharp turn, nearly misses another. He feels spoiled rotten, thinks about the way he lives. He sees a homeless man and has to look away, drive faster. He screeches to a stop behind a bus. He ignores the people who step onto it. Tonight is not this night. Tonight he’s going to keep driving.
He makes it to the building, to the stupid motor company with its stupid sign and its stupid name and he steps out of the car, clicking the doors locked. He can see Dean’s car on the other side of the parking lot, one of the few that’s still left. He doesn’t know what Sam said, couldn’t even be sure that Dean would still be here.
But he is. For whatever reason Dean’s still up there.
Cas steps into the building to find it mostly empty. A few stray workers who ignore him, don’t recognize him. He didn’t expect them to.
He climbs stairs as opposed to taking the elevator.
He ends up on the fourth floor and it feels so eerily familiar. He’s been this route so many times but never really thought about it before. Now every step feels full of purpose. Why didn’t it before? It had been monotonous, a thing to do, unimportant before. And then it had been about getting to Dean as fast as possible, for the sexual tension, for that buzz in his head.
Now what’s it for?
He swallows, blinks hard and keeps walking down the hallway.
He clicks the door open. It creaks as he steps in.
-
“Cas?”
Dean is bewildered, stares at Castiel with wide eyes before frowning. “What are you doing here?”
“Sam called me,” Cas says quietly, eyes scanning Dean’s desk. Dean wants to cover everything up as if it’ll all give him away. Give him away as what? Why can’t he figure out what’s making him feel so wrong? “He told me you were…going to dispatch.”
Dean bites his tongue at the phrase, finds himself glaring at Cas. Cas just stands in the doorway, gaze cold, and Dean needs to get out, he needs to leave as soon as possible. He isn’t sure why he stayed in the first place.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” His voice is icy, reminding Dean of when they first met, before all of the fuck ups and the laughs and before all of the stupidity they managed together. It reminds him of before Castiel let his walls fall down and decided to be himself. Dean’s tense but prepared.
“What am I supposed to do?” he half-snaps, eyeing Castiel’s thin figure in his door. “You should just go home.” He’s not used to being so snappy, so harsh, but right now he’s annoyed; he doesn’t need this. They haven’t talked in days and he didn’t want them to talk. He wanted it to cut off. He knew it’d be impossible with Sam but he had hoped to spare himself. To spare Cas.
“You’re going to leave Sam behind? You’re going to leave him with his shitty job, too?” Dean bites his lip but the remark kind of hits home. Not that Cas has any right to it. He’s probably just looking for a way to make Dean feel guilty and Dean twitches.
“Are you fucking serious?” Dean snarls, getting really frustrated now. “What the hell is your problem? Why is it any business of yours what I do with my life? I got offered the promotion, okay? Obviously you know that now. It’s what I’ve been wanting for a long time. And no, it’s not - It’s not exactly what I expected, it’s not perfect, but I want it, and I want to stay with it. I’m leaving, big fucking deal.” He doesn’t mean it, not all of it at least. He wants the job but how much does he want it? As much as he wants Cas? The balance feels tilted. He’s just not sure to which side and when he looks, Cas’ eyes are dark and sad and not that crystal blue they are when he laughs and Dean doesn’t like it. He looks vulnerable, like he’s just been slapped across the face. And that’s Dean’s doing, his own fault.
“You weren’t going to tell either of us, were you?”
Dean bites his tongue, trying to keep the anger down. He feels completely ganged up on and it’s hard not to react. “This isn’t your life, this isn’t Sam’s. Neither of you need me anymore. No one needs me here. Cleveland is bull shit through and through so yeah, I’m going to leave. I’m going to get out of here as fast as I fucking can.”
“Dean.” Broken.
Dean wants to grab him - pull Castiel against his chest and then kiss him so he shuts up, so he can stop making this so difficult. When did Dean become so easily affected? He was never a hard person, but now he can’t - He can’t do this. He can’t fight against those eyes. Castiel’s walls have all fallen and Dean’s aren’t exactly the strongest.
“I really need you to let me go.”
Maybe he needs Cas to let him go so he can let Cas go. So he can stop being molded by how he feels.
Castiel doesn’t move from the front of the doorway.
“I can’t,” he whispers, though it’s loud in the empty room. The building is almost empty. Dean can hear the elevator rolling down at the last people on floor five leave. Why had he stayed late? Maybe his subconscious knew Cas was coming. Maybe his subconscious can always detect him.
But if Cas can’t let go - Cas the journalist, the writer, the insufferable little shit who had somehow let himself open up for Dean and that’s enough. It’s too much because Cas never should have. Not with Dean.
And Dean knows it better than anyone.
“Look.” Dean tries to find the words but ends up just groaning, burying his face in his hands. “You can’t…do this to me. It’s what…What I wanted before I met you. If you weren’t here I’d already be gone.”
“That’s not true!” Castiel sounds weak; tired. The word describes him perfectly - tired. Someone who doesn’t get enough sleep, who breaks down but doesn’t talk about it. Dean wonders if he caused this exhaustion, if Cas hasn’t slept well the last couple of days because he never called him back. And he realizes that Cas is the person who locks himself in his room and hides, who doesn’t want to relive painful memories. Who will drive away without a single word.
But he’s here. For whatever reason he’s willing to fight against Dean, even though he’d normally back away. “Sam. Sam.” Castiel is clearly grasping at straws and it shows in his eyes; desperate and frantic. Scared. Absolutely terrified. “You love him, I know you do - He’s your best f-friend. That’s what you told me, I remember. Do you not think I remember? I paid attention. You love him.”
Dean takes a deep breath then lets it out. “It doesn’t matter. This is a decision. And it’s my decision, no one else’s, especially not yours.”
Castiel’s eyes suddenly spark with something else - anger. “This is such…This is such bull. I can’t believe this.” He looks close to throwing a punch and Dean backs up, closer to his desk. “I can’t fucking believe you, Smith. You think you can say that - You think it’s that easy to get rid of me?”
Dean blinks, taken aback. “E-Excuse me?” he manages, a little breathless. He’s not sure if he’s been caught or what but somehow it doesn’t feel like a lie. What is he trying to do? Is he trying to get rid of Cas? No. No, that’s not it. Castiel is wrong. “You’re insane, Jesus.” He pulls himself together, makes it against Cas again. “God, does everything revolve around you? Fuck - Fuci, Cas, you call me out on bullshit? What about your own?”
Castiel looks shocked, hurt again. He steps back, out the door and into the dimly lit hallway. “Don’t do this,” he says, still in Dean’s view. He then turns and he’s gone, and Dean can hear his footsteps.
He waits until they fade, until he can hear the elevator working.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and decides to take the stairs.
-
Castiel didn’t mean to blow up at Dean, not really. He didn’t quite mean a lot of the things he said, though some of them had been true. He feels used and cheated and it’s not fair, it isn’t even completely true.
He has a hard time driving home, vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t cry. He tries to pace himself with deep breaths, closing his eyes and focusing. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.
This is just another person, just another block in the road. Just another piece of proof that everything goes to shit.
He gets back to his apartment and crawls under the sheets, and this time he lets himself sob.
-
Dean doesn’t want to go into work. Going into work means seeing Sam, and possibly Ruby (and her glares are a scary thing) and it means turning in the letter.
He had meant to slip it under Zachariah’s door the night before, but he had procrastinated and then Cas had shown up and they’d had - What had they had? A fight? He didn’t know if that quite gave the actual sense of what had happened. Words. They had…Had words, he decides. Loud words, that had reverberated against the walls and led to Cas storming away.
It could be worse. Well. Not really. But Dean can think of a couple of scenarios.
He lies awake in bed and stares at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, his clock still beeping along, trying to wake him up with the endless sounds. It keeps him grounded.
Is it worth it?
He’s beginning to question what he thought was a solid decision. Is leaving really worth it? Will he be happier somewhere else? Or should he just take advantage of his amazing position right here? Even if it is in Ohio. Even if he’s working at some shitty car dealership that makes money off of preying on its customers.
He could always quit. Get another job. It wouldn’t be too difficult with his credentials, his youth. The thought is fleeting and scary.
But he could do it. He could.
Will he? He doesn’t know.
Also terrifying.
He finally gets up, rolling out of bed. It’s only 5:34 anyway. He isn’t sure why he set his alarm so early. He’s been awake for fifteen minutes anyway, running on four hours of sleep. What a great way to start off what’s sure to be a great day. He turns the alarm off, shuffles into the kitchen. Pours himself a bowl of cereal.
The envelope sits perfectly in the middle of the table.
Next to it is the list of things he needs.
The one he forgot he wrote.
His spoon clatters back into his bowl and enough milk sloshes onto the table to make a mess. He blinks and stares.
After the words ‘something normal’ (he doesn’t remember writing that) Cas’ name is scattered over the bottom of the page. In his messy scrawl, over and over again. ‘Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Castiel, Cas, Cas, Cas’. It seems endless, and when Dean pulls the paper up the name has been transcribed onto the next piece just by how hard he pushed the pen. The paper is almost ripped, covered in black ink.
He looks between the letter for Zachariah and the piece of paper he had written on the other day.
Now he has to decide which one’s worth more.
-
“You were right, Sam.”
He can’t even hear Sam’s breathing, which likely mean Sam’s stopped.
“I don’t think he’s going to stay.”
“Oh, fuck,” Sam mumbles after a moment and Cas slumps back in his kitchen chair. His apartment feels empty and broken. Lonely the way it’s always been. He thinks he wants Anna here but he’s afraid he’ll start crying in front of her. He wipes absently at his cheeks. He’s already crying. This is so stupid.
“I tried. I really tried. I…yelled at him, I pretty much fuckin’ blew up at him and nothing. He was so distant, and - And I hadn’t seen him since I had been over and I had thought things were going to be okay then, I didn’t know but I thought he just needed some time and…And he never answered his phone and I should have realized it was something more, I should have known.”
“Cas! Cas.” Sam’s voice is hushed and comforting over the phone. “It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” And Cas knows it isn’t, but he lets Sam’s voice soothe him for that moment, bending over and pressing his hand into his forehead. He’s got a dull headache, probably from all the wine he swallowed last night before he had collapsed on the couch. He hasn’t written in days. The inspiration just feels lost.
“What am I supposed to do, Sam?” He never thought it’d come to this, begging for Sam to help him over the phone with shaking hands. He never thought he’d turn into this person. Let the edges soften. This is why he’s always stayed away from people, avoided them. This is why he never let himself into a relationship or - Or whatever the fuck they were. Because it’s not worth it. It just isn’t worth it.
“I…I’m sorry.” And Sam, all-knowing Sam doesn’t even know what to say.
“Thank you.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He doesn’t wait for Sam to respond before hanging up.
-
Dean’s hands are shaking as he knocks on Zachariah’s door. He hasn’t seen Sam today, hasn’t really seen anyone for that matter. He’s got the envelope between his fingers but he can’t just slip it under the door. He has to be braver than that.
“Come in.” Zach’s voice is a sing-song, and it jerks Dean back to reality. This building, these people. This is how he’s been living for years. Or, it feels like years. Longer than it has been.
But not necessarily bad.
He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. Zachariah greets him with a smile. “Hello, Dean. It’s Wednesday morning.”
“That it is,” he agrees, surprised at how steady his voice is; he smiles back widely. “I’ve made my decision.”
Zachariah watches him expectantly as he sets the envelope down. “You look nervous, Dean. Why is that?”
Dean stares as Zach picks up the envelope and flips it over in his hands before beginning to tug at the paper, ripping it perfectly.
“Ah,” Zach says, letting out a breath. “That explains it.”
-
“Hey, Dean.”
Sam in his doorway. He lets out a breath. He’s still shaking a bit. “Hey, Sam.”
“…Why’d you give up the job?”
Dean looks up sharply. “How did you know about that?”
“Oh, Dean. Word spreads fast around here.”
“Does Cas know?” He’s still not sure if he can fix this entirely. But he’s going to try.
“Cas called me this morning. He’s under the firm belief that he convinced you of nothing. He seemed…upset to say the least. So no, he doesn’t know. I wasn’t going to call him without having heard it from you. So - is Cas right? He didn’t convince you of shit? Neither did I? Did you make this decision entirely on your own, regardless of us?”
Sam is teasing. It…almost makes things a little better.
“He’s wrong.”
“So he changed your mind?”
“Sort of.”
“Should I just let it be?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Sam’s smile lingers as he leaves.
-
At the end of Dean’s shift he pulls his cell phone from his back pocket. It’s only 5:30, and though his original plan had been to stop by Wendy’s and get a salad and tea for dinner, he thinks, if things go well enough, he’ll manage something else.
He dials the number automatically, barely thinking about it, and the phone rings once. Twice. Three times. A fourth.
Then finally there’s a click. The other person doesn’t say anything and Dean holds his breath because…maybe.
“Hello?” Cas’ voice is shaky and tired.
Dean did this. He tries not to sigh, knowing it will probably be misinterpreted.
“Hey, Cas,” he murmurs, voice low. “I’m glad you answered.”
“Not sure I am.” Cold again, putting up his walls, protecting himself. Dean doesn’t blame him, not in the least. He did this. He made these mistakes.
“I turned in my uh…My letter of…” He still can’t believe he did it. “My letter of resignation.”
Dean isn’t sure what the long silence on the other line means.
“What?”
He allows himself a smile. “I’m leaving the company.” It feels like a release to get to actually say it. Sam had known he had turned down the promotion; he hadn’t known he had altogether quit. “I’m…Zach says he’ll still help me, write me letters of recommendation, that kind of shit, you know, so I can get another job. But I’ll still be…in Ohio. I’ll still be here. I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not leaving.”
He can’t really tell how Cas feels about this until he hears what sounds like - what sort of sounds like a sob. A little broken and dry. “Fuck you, Dean Smith.” Cas’ voice shakes. “Fuck you and fuck everything you are, fuck you for making me worry.”
“I…” Dean starts, but then he smiles because the dry heaves of sobs are turning into labored laughs, loud and maybe slightly hysterical. But laughter, nonetheless. Maybe he hasn’t screwed everything up. Just maybe. “Cas, I’m so sorry. You know this had nothing to do with you, right? It was - It was my own…lack of self-worth.” It’s weird, tastes strange on his tongue to admit it. Sure, he’d thought about it, but never really made the actual decision that he didn’t believe in himself, that’s why he was giving up.
He never really has.
“I know, Dean,” Cas croaks. “God, I know. You are fucked up. You’re so selfish and self absorbed but then you try too hard because you think you’re making things better for other people. But you aren’t, and then of course - last minute you realize - you realize how much damage you’ve caused and you try to fix it…and of course the people let you fix it…because they need you.”
Cas’ voice is still uneven and Dean has to smile.
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asks quietly, and he wishes Cas was there. Wishes he could run his fingers through Cas’ hair and hug him and then kiss him and know that it isn’t the end.
“I’m speaking from fucking experience.”
“Do you think I can fix this?”
“No.”
Dean stiffens, tightening his hold on the phone.
“But we can.”
He picks them up and rinses them off more thoroughly before beginning to scrub with his old sponge. He makes a mental note to go to the store today and pick up some more food and new sponges. Finishes cleaning the dishes and puts them away when he has them dry - he wonders why he didn’t just put them in the dishwasher for a second but then just wipes his hands and moves to the kitchen table.
He sets a pad of paper in front of him and clicks a pen, writing down all the things he needs.
He doesn’t stop at kitchen supplies, or other household necessities.
His hand is shaking when he finishes.
-
“Did you finally break it off with your boyfriend?”
Cas looks up, mouth agape. “What?” he asks breathily as Uriel begins to laugh. “What - What does that mean?” he manages pathetically, drinking deeply from his beer. He tries to keep himself together, shaking his head and laughing, avoiding Uriel’s stare.
“Come on, Cas.” Uriel’s voice is half-mocking, joking with him. “You act like everyone doesn’t know.”
Cas looks up just enough to glare. “Who’s everybody?” he inquires suspiciously.
Uriel leans back as a waitress brings them over their food. Cas gives her a soft thank you and she smiles at him - she’s got a brilliantly pretty smile and she looks about twenty four; he catalogues these things for…For what? For later. He bites his tongue at the thought because he can’t repress it and looks back just in time to see Uriel nod at the girl and give Cas a knowing smirk.
Cas grabs the ketchup and squirts too much next to his side serving of fries before he cuts at his oversized burger. America - fucking figures.
He eats slowly and he can hear Uriel going at his food too, and he hopes the subject is dropped.
But of course not. That could never be. It’s Uriel, after all.
“It’s just a thing. Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re in trouble, no one can really prove it, anyway. I mean, you’re not extremely discreet but it’s not like people are following you.” Uriel chuckles and wipes his hands with his cloth napkin. “So is it true? You two had a fight or something?”
“Jesus, Uriel!” Cas shoots him a glare and squirms in his seat. “How do you - Who gave you this information? This bullshit?”
Uriel is giving him that knowing look again, though it’s less of a smirk this time, more worried. “From a pretty reliable source. Alright, okay, I exaggerated…Lied.”
Cas cocks both an eyebrow, waiting for Uriel to continue. “Anna told me you’ve been brooding. I filled in the pieces.”
“Anna? That…” He wants to call her a bad name but resists, biting his tongue again. “It’s none of your business, Uriel. If I’m dating anyone, whether it be Dean Smith or an ex-con from Australia -”
“Dean Smith?” and oh shit, Anna hadn’t told him that much. Castiel groans and leans back. “You’re fucking - You’re - Cas!”
Cas rolls his eyes, suddenly very irritated with dinner. He grabs a French fry and chomps at it, frowning at Uriel. “It was…hypothetical,” he defends weakly then sighs when Uriel looks unimpressed. “Fine, but whatever, you don’t have to put it that way. We never really…well, you know, sure, there was kind of a falling out, but it’s not like we were anything special.”
“You’re a liar,” Uriel says confidently and that annoys Cas further. “You’ve been changing. It’s kind of hard to miss. You smile a lot more. You’re not as sarcastic. And even though I miss it…It's natural. You didn’t change for him…Y…you changed because of him.”
Cas ducks his head to try to hide his embarrassment, staring at the remainder of his food.
“Can we…drop it?” he asks in a mumble. “Because I don’t really…I don’t know what really happened, and I kind of don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, I mean. And I don’t - I don’t really even know if I actually, if we’re really…Like, if it’s…Whatever, you know, over or something? I could be overreacting, or maybe, I don’t know, it’s been a bad day or something. I’m just tired.”
He knows that usually Uriel would push so he gives him a minute to do exactly that. When he doesn’t, Cas looks up warily.
“Thank you.”
-
Cas calls, but doesn’t ever leaves messages. Twice on Monday and then once Tuesday morning before Dean gets ready to go to work. He looks at the phone as it rings in his hand, the Caller ID flashing Cas’ cell phone number, and he wonders if Cas knows that he even has Caller ID. He sets the phone back into his cradle and looks at the clock.
He’s late, and he has to pick up Sam.
He hurries out just as the phone stops, pulling it jacket on over his button up and getting into the car. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Tomorrow’s his last day. He needs to give Zachariah an answer by tomorrow.
And he’s made his decision, hasn’t he? Just cut off things clean. He hasn’t talked to Sam about it, or anyone else at all for that matter besides mentioning to Jo on the phone that he might be leaving Cleveland soon. He knows that once he gives his answer to Zach it’s going to spread like wildfire and that he’ll be stuck with a very angry Sam and probably glares from Ruby until he can get out.
But it’ll be worth it.
He turns the radio on, listening as an announcer drones on about some baseball or football or soccer game that happened last night. It’s just a distraction, something to listen to before he gets Sam chattering pleasantly as he always does in the morning.
Ten minutes later he’s at Sam’s and Sam gets out of his apartment with a quick grin, sign of his high spirits. It shouldn’t make Dean sad but it does, and he decides that of course he’s going to be a little sad but he can’t really avoid that, can he?
And it’s…It’s not Cleveland. And that lifts a weight off of his shoulders, just thinking about it. Getting out of Ohio, Ohio where nothing happens, where people just seem to wander around all lonely.
“Dean?”
Dean glances at Sam. “Sorry, what was that? I was unfocused.”
Sam snorts. “Clearly.” But he doesn’t repeat himself, eyes casting down. “You’ve been weird all week, actually.”
“Have I?” Dean says, keeping his tone light as he turns at a stoplight, watching other cars pass with bored eyes. “I haven’t noticed.”
Sam hums and it’s disbelieving. “Of course you haven’t. I mean, you just seem…different. Like you’re off center. Did something happen?” He can feel Sam’s gaze but he doesn’t look back. “I mean, you know, between you and Cas.”
Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “What does it matter?” he asks gruffly.
“There you go!” Sam throws his arms up though he can’t really reach anything in the car, he’s so big. “You just proved my point completely, Dean. Since when did you…and I - I mean, you’re just different and I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.” Dean feels suddenly guilty at Sam’s voice, kind of remembers that he’s Sam’s best friend but this hurts him, too. He doesn’t want to leave Sam, or Cas. He just wants to leave everything else.
“You wouldn’t forgive me if I told you.” The words are out before he can stop them, and Sam’s gaze is much sharper this time, eyes narrowed. Dean throws him a desperate glance, pleading with his eyes. “Please, Sam, let it go.”
“Oh, no fucking way,” Sam growls and Dean wished this hadn’t happened. “You can’t say shit like that and not expect a reaction. Did you and Cas have a fight - Did you do something really stupid this time because do you realize how goddamned lucky you a-”
“Stop!” His voice is louder than he had meant and he turns into the parking lot, wheels screeching against pavement. But Sam goes quiet, dips his head down and doesn’t look up until he’s parked. “Look, Sam…”
“Never mind,” Sam answers, voice stiff. “You have your own shit to deal with, I get that, but I just wish you’d trust me enough to tell me….to tell me something, Dean. We’re friends, right? Pretty good friends, unless I somehow…misread it, or whatever. Our relationship, I thought we were close, and I never bug you for details but now it just…It doesn’t feel like you’re keeping yourself safe. It just feels like you’re hiding from me. From…everyone, actually. I know you have your rough spots, but I wish you’d just…you’d let me help you.”
Dean can’t help but be affected by Sam’s raw voice and he opens his car door, stepping out and then leaning against the side. He doesn’t want to go back there.
“You don’t want to know. It’d be easier if you didn’t.”
“You know that’s a lie.”
Yes, he does. But lying is also a lot easier.
He closes his eyes and feels the sun beating down on his face. It doesn’t feel comfortable; it just leaves an itch on his skin, sweat sticking his clothes to his body. He puts his hands in his pants pocket and lets out a long sigh. Sam’s still waiting for him.
“I’m leaving.”
Silence.
“For good. Relocating. I’m taking Zach’s job and moving there.”
A sharp intake of breath. “You weren’t going to tell me?” he whispers, but Dean can hear him loud and clear.
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone, not really,” he admits, bowing his head. “It’s just…It’s too hard.”
“To be honest to people? To the people you care about?” Sam is obviously angry and this is the whole point.
He spins around to face Sam over the car. “This is exactly what the fuck I was trying to avoid!” he snaps and he’s surprised by how upset he sounds when he had just meant to get his point across. “I don’t want to hurt you! I don’t want to deal with you hating me for - For however long. It’s not like you weren’t gonna find out, I just…It’s easier to let go.”
“Is it?”
Sam’s eyes fade, become lighter.
Dean has to walk away.
-
Castiel puts on a tie. Checks his hair in the mirror, wipes his hands over his face. He’s being an idiot but he doesn’t have a choice. Dean’s not answering his calls.
The phone rings. He moves out of the bathroom and frowns when he recognizes Sam’s cell phone number on his Caller ID. He clicks the ‘talk’ button and holds the phone to his ear. “Sam?” he asks confusedly.
“Cas, thank God you’re home.”
Cas turns, frowning, thinking this is some kind of prank or an actual emergency. He stays guarded. “What’s wrong, Sam, why are you calling me?”
“It’s…Dean.” Sam sighs and Cas tilts his head back, just getting more confused. “He told me something that he hasn’t told you.”
Cas tenses. “And you’re calling me…why?”
“Because I think you deserve to know,” he answers and he sounds out of breath. Cas doesn’t bother asking why. “He wants to leave.”
This catches Cas by surprised. “Leave…what?” he asks confusedly. “What do you mean? You’re not making any sense, Sam.”
“He’s going to leave Cleveland. Ohio, in fact. He wants to move to New York. He was offered a better job, a better position, and he wants to take it. He told me this morning only because I confronted him. I have a feeling he might have…He probably already has…hurt you. Not purposely, but he can be…an idiot, you know? He’s a little oblivious. He doesn’t know what his actions mean.”
Cas puts his hand over his mouth and swallows. He finally falls back against the wall and his suit jacket drags up as he slides down.
Dean. Leaving. Gone.
It shouldn’t do this to him. Make him so shaky and sweaty. He blinks and a single tear rolls down his face. How did he fall so easily? Become so…weak?
“Cas? You still there?”
“I’m still here,” Cas manages, unable to keep the hoarseness out of his voice. “He told you this?”
“Yeah, he told me he wasn’t going to, too. Like, what was he gonna do? Just try to hide it? I don’t know when he has to make his decision or anything, he walked away, but he still…He owes me a ride home, I think so.”
“No.” Cas’ voice is sharp and surprises him - he blinks again and there are more tears but he ignores them, just swiping at them with his palm before finishing. “I mean, uh, could you please…take a bus tonight? I know public transportation sucks here but…” He trails off and winces at how rude he sounds. “But I want to see him. Tonight.”
There’s a moment of silence from Sam. Then, “Yeah. Yeah, you should do that. Surprise him. I think that’s a good idea. Talk some sense into him.”
“Yeah, I’ll try,” he agrees but in his head he knows it’ll never work. He thinks Sam probably knows, too. Dean isn’t someone you talk sense into, and if he truly believes that leaving Ohio is the best option then he’ll do it no matter what Cas does or says, and if Sam can’t even keep him anchored, then how will Cas do it? He smiles at the prospect, at the challenge he already knows he’s going to fail.
But he has to try. He has to.
-
“Hey, Dean?”
Dean glances up and gives Sam a half-smile, hoping to mend whatever wounds he may have opened at least a little. Sam smiles back and that’s a start, even if it’s false. “What’s up?” Dean asks, beginning to gather up some files that had been cluttering his desk. He’s got a little envelope, too, all prepared to slide under Zachariah’s office door when he goes home tonight, printed on nice paper with a pristine font and perfect black ink.
“I’m not going to need a ride tonight.”
Dean’s heart drops. “Oh?” he manages, licking his lips. “Why is that?”
Sam’s still smiling, though it’s a little sad. “I’m going to take a bus. I have money. Don’t worry about me. And hey if you…make your decision tonight, if you tell Zach you’re leaving, then…good luck. I have no - I don’t have any right to tell you that you have to say. If you wanna leave, why should I hold you back?” Sam looks embarrassed and Dean feels horror in his stomach.
“You’re not holding me back,” he says quietly, not standing. Sam leans against the doorway, an arm folded over his chest protectively. That smile still plastered onto his face. “You’re still my best friend.”
“Nothing can make you stay?” Sam’s voice is so quiet Dean barely catches the words. He swallows and looks down at his desk, still a little out of order.
“I don’t think anything could make me stay,” he admits, and he really believes it for that moment. He hasn’t seen Cas in a couple of days and at this rate he’ll be able to tear apart from him easily. He could just…leave. Never answer his calls and disappear to New York. It’d be a fucking romantic comedy except without any of the comedy. Without much of the romance, either.
For a brief second he remembers Cas’ face when he had come. His mouth wrapped around his cock. His smile after he kissed Dean. His eyes when they went out together. How bright they were.
He feels guilty.
Not guilty enough.
“Well, it’s not like I’m….not gonna see you again, but.” Sam shrugs and looks around the office. “You’re probably only gonna be around for what, like a month? That’s not very long. Please don’t just…disappear, you know. Keep coming to lunch. Let me come over.”
Dean bites his lip. “You don’t think a clean break would be easier?”
“Not when you’re right there.”
Dean realizes how broken Sam’s voice is and has to look away because he’s sure his eyes are even worse. He hadn’t meant to do this. He never wanted to make Sam so close to tears.
He takes a breath through his nose. “Yeah, that’s fine. Shouldn’t - Shouldn’t you be going?” He doesn’t really know what time it is, but the sun is sinking outside. They could both be going home, together if they wanted to. Dean could take Sam back to his apartment and maybe they could get drunk and watch old Batman or Superman movies and laugh and laugh until their guts hurt.
But no. It’s not that easy.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam says softly. “Don’t stay too late, okay?”
Dean nods. “Of course. ’Night, Sam.”
Sam smiles again. “G’night, Dean.”
-
Cas has to drive with two hands on the wheel he’s shaking so hard. He had already done his fair bit of crying - Which, honestly, hadn’t been that much, but for him? For him it was a lot, and now he’s navigating his way through the dark, the same route he had taken for two weeks in a row to get to the building in the heart of Cleveland, through the traffic lights and past pedestrians on the corner of streets holding cigarettes or laughing, carefree.
He takes a sharp turn, nearly misses another. He feels spoiled rotten, thinks about the way he lives. He sees a homeless man and has to look away, drive faster. He screeches to a stop behind a bus. He ignores the people who step onto it. Tonight is not this night. Tonight he’s going to keep driving.
He makes it to the building, to the stupid motor company with its stupid sign and its stupid name and he steps out of the car, clicking the doors locked. He can see Dean’s car on the other side of the parking lot, one of the few that’s still left. He doesn’t know what Sam said, couldn’t even be sure that Dean would still be here.
But he is. For whatever reason Dean’s still up there.
Cas steps into the building to find it mostly empty. A few stray workers who ignore him, don’t recognize him. He didn’t expect them to.
He climbs stairs as opposed to taking the elevator.
He ends up on the fourth floor and it feels so eerily familiar. He’s been this route so many times but never really thought about it before. Now every step feels full of purpose. Why didn’t it before? It had been monotonous, a thing to do, unimportant before. And then it had been about getting to Dean as fast as possible, for the sexual tension, for that buzz in his head.
Now what’s it for?
He swallows, blinks hard and keeps walking down the hallway.
He clicks the door open. It creaks as he steps in.
-
“Cas?”
Dean is bewildered, stares at Castiel with wide eyes before frowning. “What are you doing here?”
“Sam called me,” Cas says quietly, eyes scanning Dean’s desk. Dean wants to cover everything up as if it’ll all give him away. Give him away as what? Why can’t he figure out what’s making him feel so wrong? “He told me you were…going to dispatch.”
Dean bites his tongue at the phrase, finds himself glaring at Cas. Cas just stands in the doorway, gaze cold, and Dean needs to get out, he needs to leave as soon as possible. He isn’t sure why he stayed in the first place.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” His voice is icy, reminding Dean of when they first met, before all of the fuck ups and the laughs and before all of the stupidity they managed together. It reminds him of before Castiel let his walls fall down and decided to be himself. Dean’s tense but prepared.
“What am I supposed to do?” he half-snaps, eyeing Castiel’s thin figure in his door. “You should just go home.” He’s not used to being so snappy, so harsh, but right now he’s annoyed; he doesn’t need this. They haven’t talked in days and he didn’t want them to talk. He wanted it to cut off. He knew it’d be impossible with Sam but he had hoped to spare himself. To spare Cas.
“You’re going to leave Sam behind? You’re going to leave him with his shitty job, too?” Dean bites his lip but the remark kind of hits home. Not that Cas has any right to it. He’s probably just looking for a way to make Dean feel guilty and Dean twitches.
“Are you fucking serious?” Dean snarls, getting really frustrated now. “What the hell is your problem? Why is it any business of yours what I do with my life? I got offered the promotion, okay? Obviously you know that now. It’s what I’ve been wanting for a long time. And no, it’s not - It’s not exactly what I expected, it’s not perfect, but I want it, and I want to stay with it. I’m leaving, big fucking deal.” He doesn’t mean it, not all of it at least. He wants the job but how much does he want it? As much as he wants Cas? The balance feels tilted. He’s just not sure to which side and when he looks, Cas’ eyes are dark and sad and not that crystal blue they are when he laughs and Dean doesn’t like it. He looks vulnerable, like he’s just been slapped across the face. And that’s Dean’s doing, his own fault.
“You weren’t going to tell either of us, were you?”
Dean bites his tongue, trying to keep the anger down. He feels completely ganged up on and it’s hard not to react. “This isn’t your life, this isn’t Sam’s. Neither of you need me anymore. No one needs me here. Cleveland is bull shit through and through so yeah, I’m going to leave. I’m going to get out of here as fast as I fucking can.”
“Dean.” Broken.
Dean wants to grab him - pull Castiel against his chest and then kiss him so he shuts up, so he can stop making this so difficult. When did Dean become so easily affected? He was never a hard person, but now he can’t - He can’t do this. He can’t fight against those eyes. Castiel’s walls have all fallen and Dean’s aren’t exactly the strongest.
“I really need you to let me go.”
Maybe he needs Cas to let him go so he can let Cas go. So he can stop being molded by how he feels.
Castiel doesn’t move from the front of the doorway.
“I can’t,” he whispers, though it’s loud in the empty room. The building is almost empty. Dean can hear the elevator rolling down at the last people on floor five leave. Why had he stayed late? Maybe his subconscious knew Cas was coming. Maybe his subconscious can always detect him.
But if Cas can’t let go - Cas the journalist, the writer, the insufferable little shit who had somehow let himself open up for Dean and that’s enough. It’s too much because Cas never should have. Not with Dean.
And Dean knows it better than anyone.
“Look.” Dean tries to find the words but ends up just groaning, burying his face in his hands. “You can’t…do this to me. It’s what…What I wanted before I met you. If you weren’t here I’d already be gone.”
“That’s not true!” Castiel sounds weak; tired. The word describes him perfectly - tired. Someone who doesn’t get enough sleep, who breaks down but doesn’t talk about it. Dean wonders if he caused this exhaustion, if Cas hasn’t slept well the last couple of days because he never called him back. And he realizes that Cas is the person who locks himself in his room and hides, who doesn’t want to relive painful memories. Who will drive away without a single word.
But he’s here. For whatever reason he’s willing to fight against Dean, even though he’d normally back away. “Sam. Sam.” Castiel is clearly grasping at straws and it shows in his eyes; desperate and frantic. Scared. Absolutely terrified. “You love him, I know you do - He’s your best f-friend. That’s what you told me, I remember. Do you not think I remember? I paid attention. You love him.”
Dean takes a deep breath then lets it out. “It doesn’t matter. This is a decision. And it’s my decision, no one else’s, especially not yours.”
Castiel’s eyes suddenly spark with something else - anger. “This is such…This is such bull. I can’t believe this.” He looks close to throwing a punch and Dean backs up, closer to his desk. “I can’t fucking believe you, Smith. You think you can say that - You think it’s that easy to get rid of me?”
Dean blinks, taken aback. “E-Excuse me?” he manages, a little breathless. He’s not sure if he’s been caught or what but somehow it doesn’t feel like a lie. What is he trying to do? Is he trying to get rid of Cas? No. No, that’s not it. Castiel is wrong. “You’re insane, Jesus.” He pulls himself together, makes it against Cas again. “God, does everything revolve around you? Fuck - Fuci, Cas, you call me out on bullshit? What about your own?”
Castiel looks shocked, hurt again. He steps back, out the door and into the dimly lit hallway. “Don’t do this,” he says, still in Dean’s view. He then turns and he’s gone, and Dean can hear his footsteps.
He waits until they fade, until he can hear the elevator working.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and decides to take the stairs.
-
Castiel didn’t mean to blow up at Dean, not really. He didn’t quite mean a lot of the things he said, though some of them had been true. He feels used and cheated and it’s not fair, it isn’t even completely true.
He has a hard time driving home, vision blurred by tears. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t cry. He tries to pace himself with deep breaths, closing his eyes and focusing. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.
This is just another person, just another block in the road. Just another piece of proof that everything goes to shit.
He gets back to his apartment and crawls under the sheets, and this time he lets himself sob.
-
Dean doesn’t want to go into work. Going into work means seeing Sam, and possibly Ruby (and her glares are a scary thing) and it means turning in the letter.
He had meant to slip it under Zachariah’s door the night before, but he had procrastinated and then Cas had shown up and they’d had - What had they had? A fight? He didn’t know if that quite gave the actual sense of what had happened. Words. They had…Had words, he decides. Loud words, that had reverberated against the walls and led to Cas storming away.
It could be worse. Well. Not really. But Dean can think of a couple of scenarios.
He lies awake in bed and stares at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, his clock still beeping along, trying to wake him up with the endless sounds. It keeps him grounded.
Is it worth it?
He’s beginning to question what he thought was a solid decision. Is leaving really worth it? Will he be happier somewhere else? Or should he just take advantage of his amazing position right here? Even if it is in Ohio. Even if he’s working at some shitty car dealership that makes money off of preying on its customers.
He could always quit. Get another job. It wouldn’t be too difficult with his credentials, his youth. The thought is fleeting and scary.
But he could do it. He could.
Will he? He doesn’t know.
Also terrifying.
He finally gets up, rolling out of bed. It’s only 5:34 anyway. He isn’t sure why he set his alarm so early. He’s been awake for fifteen minutes anyway, running on four hours of sleep. What a great way to start off what’s sure to be a great day. He turns the alarm off, shuffles into the kitchen. Pours himself a bowl of cereal.
The envelope sits perfectly in the middle of the table.
Next to it is the list of things he needs.
The one he forgot he wrote.
His spoon clatters back into his bowl and enough milk sloshes onto the table to make a mess. He blinks and stares.
After the words ‘something normal’ (he doesn’t remember writing that) Cas’ name is scattered over the bottom of the page. In his messy scrawl, over and over again. ‘Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Castiel, Cas, Cas, Cas’. It seems endless, and when Dean pulls the paper up the name has been transcribed onto the next piece just by how hard he pushed the pen. The paper is almost ripped, covered in black ink.
He looks between the letter for Zachariah and the piece of paper he had written on the other day.
Now he has to decide which one’s worth more.
-
“You were right, Sam.”
He can’t even hear Sam’s breathing, which likely mean Sam’s stopped.
“I don’t think he’s going to stay.”
“Oh, fuck,” Sam mumbles after a moment and Cas slumps back in his kitchen chair. His apartment feels empty and broken. Lonely the way it’s always been. He thinks he wants Anna here but he’s afraid he’ll start crying in front of her. He wipes absently at his cheeks. He’s already crying. This is so stupid.
“I tried. I really tried. I…yelled at him, I pretty much fuckin’ blew up at him and nothing. He was so distant, and - And I hadn’t seen him since I had been over and I had thought things were going to be okay then, I didn’t know but I thought he just needed some time and…And he never answered his phone and I should have realized it was something more, I should have known.”
“Cas! Cas.” Sam’s voice is hushed and comforting over the phone. “It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” And Cas knows it isn’t, but he lets Sam’s voice soothe him for that moment, bending over and pressing his hand into his forehead. He’s got a dull headache, probably from all the wine he swallowed last night before he had collapsed on the couch. He hasn’t written in days. The inspiration just feels lost.
“What am I supposed to do, Sam?” He never thought it’d come to this, begging for Sam to help him over the phone with shaking hands. He never thought he’d turn into this person. Let the edges soften. This is why he’s always stayed away from people, avoided them. This is why he never let himself into a relationship or - Or whatever the fuck they were. Because it’s not worth it. It just isn’t worth it.
“I…I’m sorry.” And Sam, all-knowing Sam doesn’t even know what to say.
“Thank you.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He doesn’t wait for Sam to respond before hanging up.
-
Dean’s hands are shaking as he knocks on Zachariah’s door. He hasn’t seen Sam today, hasn’t really seen anyone for that matter. He’s got the envelope between his fingers but he can’t just slip it under the door. He has to be braver than that.
“Come in.” Zach’s voice is a sing-song, and it jerks Dean back to reality. This building, these people. This is how he’s been living for years. Or, it feels like years. Longer than it has been.
But not necessarily bad.
He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. Zachariah greets him with a smile. “Hello, Dean. It’s Wednesday morning.”
“That it is,” he agrees, surprised at how steady his voice is; he smiles back widely. “I’ve made my decision.”
Zachariah watches him expectantly as he sets the envelope down. “You look nervous, Dean. Why is that?”
Dean stares as Zach picks up the envelope and flips it over in his hands before beginning to tug at the paper, ripping it perfectly.
“Ah,” Zach says, letting out a breath. “That explains it.”
-
“Hey, Dean.”
Sam in his doorway. He lets out a breath. He’s still shaking a bit. “Hey, Sam.”
“…Why’d you give up the job?”
Dean looks up sharply. “How did you know about that?”
“Oh, Dean. Word spreads fast around here.”
“Does Cas know?” He’s still not sure if he can fix this entirely. But he’s going to try.
“Cas called me this morning. He’s under the firm belief that he convinced you of nothing. He seemed…upset to say the least. So no, he doesn’t know. I wasn’t going to call him without having heard it from you. So - is Cas right? He didn’t convince you of shit? Neither did I? Did you make this decision entirely on your own, regardless of us?”
Sam is teasing. It…almost makes things a little better.
“He’s wrong.”
“So he changed your mind?”
“Sort of.”
“Should I just let it be?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Sam’s smile lingers as he leaves.
-
At the end of Dean’s shift he pulls his cell phone from his back pocket. It’s only 5:30, and though his original plan had been to stop by Wendy’s and get a salad and tea for dinner, he thinks, if things go well enough, he’ll manage something else.
He dials the number automatically, barely thinking about it, and the phone rings once. Twice. Three times. A fourth.
Then finally there’s a click. The other person doesn’t say anything and Dean holds his breath because…maybe.
“Hello?” Cas’ voice is shaky and tired.
Dean did this. He tries not to sigh, knowing it will probably be misinterpreted.
“Hey, Cas,” he murmurs, voice low. “I’m glad you answered.”
“Not sure I am.” Cold again, putting up his walls, protecting himself. Dean doesn’t blame him, not in the least. He did this. He made these mistakes.
“I turned in my uh…My letter of…” He still can’t believe he did it. “My letter of resignation.”
Dean isn’t sure what the long silence on the other line means.
“What?”
He allows himself a smile. “I’m leaving the company.” It feels like a release to get to actually say it. Sam had known he had turned down the promotion; he hadn’t known he had altogether quit. “I’m…Zach says he’ll still help me, write me letters of recommendation, that kind of shit, you know, so I can get another job. But I’ll still be…in Ohio. I’ll still be here. I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not leaving.”
He can’t really tell how Cas feels about this until he hears what sounds like - what sort of sounds like a sob. A little broken and dry. “Fuck you, Dean Smith.” Cas’ voice shakes. “Fuck you and fuck everything you are, fuck you for making me worry.”
“I…” Dean starts, but then he smiles because the dry heaves of sobs are turning into labored laughs, loud and maybe slightly hysterical. But laughter, nonetheless. Maybe he hasn’t screwed everything up. Just maybe. “Cas, I’m so sorry. You know this had nothing to do with you, right? It was - It was my own…lack of self-worth.” It’s weird, tastes strange on his tongue to admit it. Sure, he’d thought about it, but never really made the actual decision that he didn’t believe in himself, that’s why he was giving up.
He never really has.
“I know, Dean,” Cas croaks. “God, I know. You are fucked up. You’re so selfish and self absorbed but then you try too hard because you think you’re making things better for other people. But you aren’t, and then of course - last minute you realize - you realize how much damage you’ve caused and you try to fix it…and of course the people let you fix it…because they need you.”
Cas’ voice is still uneven and Dean has to smile.
“Are you speaking from experience?” he asks quietly, and he wishes Cas was there. Wishes he could run his fingers through Cas’ hair and hug him and then kiss him and know that it isn’t the end.
“I’m speaking from fucking experience.”
“Do you think I can fix this?”
“No.”
Dean stiffens, tightening his hold on the phone.
“But we can.”