Home, Disambiguation
Cas knocked, and kept knocking. It was still a few minutes before he heard a “coming!” from the back of the apartment. Dean answered in a t-shirt and boxers, hair ruffled, squinting suspiciously.
“Cas?”
“Hello, Dean.”
“What the hell, man?” Dean quickly shifted into worry. “It’s three in the morning. Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I thought you were on shift until tomorrow.”
“I left early. We...were allowed. To leave early.”
Dean opened the door. “Come in.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s okay,” Dean soothed. “Come on. Come in.”
Cas crossed inside. Dean took his coat and lead him to the small kitchen, where he poured Cas some white wine from the bottle he kept just for him, and handed it over in a whiskey glass. Cas downed it in a huge swallow. “Easy, tiger,” Dean teased, but refilled the glass anyway. “Something happen?”
“We lost a child. A five year old with a peanut allergy. He hid some candy in his room. His parents checked on him before they went to bed. It was too late.”
Dean didn’t flinch, or gasp, or roar about the parents, the way Rachel would have. He didn’t roll his eyes like Gabe would, or lecture him about the job, the way the family would. He just looked at him with those warm, kind eyes, and a solid, steady little smile-not about the death, but to make Cas feel more comfortable sharing what had happened.
“My friend Peter...he’s the emergency pediatrician-”
“I know. The Brit.”
“Yeah. He...he wasn’t doing very well.” He left out the fact that Peter had utterly refused to call it, and had continued to administer treatment until Anna came in and overrode him. “Anna let me take him home. He just wanted to go to the bar.” He again left out Peter sobbing in the surgeon’s bathroom, Cas at a total, impotent loss of how to console him. Peter may be a pompous ass to adults, but he loved the kids who came through those doors. Cas finished his glass and held it out, but Dean shook his head.
“That’s not the answer. Come lay down with me.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“We don’t have to sleep.”
“I’m not in the mood, Dean.”
“Dude, I’m not an ass. I just want to hold you.”
Cas felt his eyes fill. Dean’s expression softened and he moved forward, taking the glass and placing it in the sink. “C’mon.”
Cas had loved Rachel, and she’d been there for him. But the first time he tried to tell her about losing someone, she’d ended up crying, talking about losing her Aunt, and he’d held and rocked her while his own hurt festered. Since then, he’d kept the worse of the losses to himself, crying alone or, occasionally, while he reported to Anna, who always patted his hand and assured him he’d done everything he could.
This had been the first night he’d climbed into bed and ached so bad for Dean it was physical. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but think about how badly he wanted to talk to him, wanted to lean on him, wanted Dean’s hand in his hair, around his waist.
Dean lead him to the bedroom, undressed him with care, and pulled him down onto the bed, amidst the pillows and blankets, a hand slipping under his t-shirt to rub the bare skin of his back. Cas sighed against him, caught sight of the photo of a young Sam, with Ellen and Bobby, kept faithfully beside Dean’s bed, and smiled to himself. Dean was still in his sweats and his tee and Cas was still in his boxers and undershirt and Dean loved him, didn't need him to be undressed to show him how much. Dean wanted what Cas wanted--to be a rock in a family of people who loved him, who needed him. It was one of the things that had pulled them together in the first place.
“You can’t save everyone,” Dean murmured, kissing Cas’ forehead. Cas sighed and let himself be rocked, gently, by Dean's inhales and exhales.
“I’ve learned to deal with the loss of adults. Heart-attacks, strokes, car accidents...they’re terrible, but I’ve learned. But...parents should never have to lose a child. Never.”
“You’re right. But people do. And you can’t change that. You can only do what you can with what’s in front of you. And you do so much more than the rest of us.”
“Sometimes...I wish I’d never become a doctor. I wish I’d...I wish I didn’t care so much. I try to think...like my brothers, and my father. He always tried to make us think like soldiers. He said...medicine is a war. A war against death. And there will be casualties. See them as necessary for the greater good, and move forward.”
“That’s not you,” Dean said. “And look...there’s nothing wrong with feeling like shit because a kid died. You’d be a friggin’ sociopath if you didn’t. You just gotta realize that you’re not a miracle worker. Yeah, the rest of us slubs think you are, but you’re not. You just know a hell of a lot more than we do about how to fix us up.”
Cas reached out a shaky hand and touched Dean’s chest. “I missed you,” he said, his throat swelling with tears.
“Hey, you can always come here. I’ll get you a key, even.” Dean leaned against his forehead. “Look...I’m not a doc. Fixing cars isn’t fixing people. I get it. I don’t know what more I can do, other than listen and hold you. But I’ll do that all you want.”
Cas felt a sense of peace wash over him that he’d only ever felt since he’d been with Dean. There was something about him: a force, a logic, an amazing, steady confidence, that Cas wondered at. Dean’s ideas of right and wrong were far off the mark of his family’s, but unlike this family’s his moral compass seemed to be guided, completely, by love. Cas had never met anyone this selfless, this...huge hearted. He felt like a sliver of the moon next to Dean: a sliver clinging on to the greater rock.
“Dean...if I...bought us a house, would you live in it?” he said.
Dean’s hand stopped moving on his back. “What?”
“If I bought a house. Would you live in it?”
Dean snorted. “That sounds a little...off.”
Cas flushed. “I’m...trying to see if you’d...maybe consider living with me.”
Dean’s hand moved off his back and stroked his head. “That’s two different questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want us to move into together, and buy a house, sure. But I’m not letting you do it on your own.”
“But I can pay for it, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Dude, I don’t want you to.” Dean pulled away and sat up, looking Cas square in the eye. “If you want to...play this thing forward, than we’re going to be equals. Meaning we split the bills. Mortgage, electricity, cable-all of it. Otherwise, it’s not going to be you and me. It’s going to be you, me, and your damn money. I don’t want that. And I don’t want you questioning that that’s what this is all about.”
“I’ve never thought that,” he said, but the moment he said it, he realized he had wondered if that was why this loving, handsome, amazing man, had decided to love him. He was ashamed the moment he thought it, but that didn’t change the thought.
And it hit him, all over again, that he still didn’t know who he was without his last name. He’d realized that once before, and it had sent him out the mid-west. And here he was, and he still didn’t understand why Dean would want him for any reason other than his bank account.
But he also felt, for the first time, that if there was anyone in the world who could show him what he could be worth, without money and without the Morgans, it was the man holding him. The man he wanted to see when he woke in the morning, who he wanted to be in bed with when he fell asleep at night. The man he wanted by his side when he had to lay family and friends to rest. The man who didn’t seem to think sacrificing for those you loved was a sacrifice at all.
“I...I love you, Dean,” Cas managed. “And...I want to live with you.”
Dean smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. “I want to live with you too.”
“Will you buy a house with me?”
“I’ll buy a house with you.”
“I was thinking...we should get a two or three bedroom. So Sam would always have a place to stay. I don’t want him to ever feel unwelcome.”
Dean’s face glowed all the brighter. “You know...he was a total jackass at first. But he loves you now.”
“I love him too.” Cas grinned, shyly. “Jess told me, if I hung on long enough, that he’d be a great friend. And he is. And I’m...so glad I did.”
“Me too,” Dean grinned, dipped down, and kissed him again. “You know what? Me three,” he said, and dipped down, greeted by Cas’s joyous grin.
"Can I get a four? Maybe a five?" Cas teased, letting Dean pin his wrists.
"Don' know. I'm thinking I might go up to seven...maybe eight," Dean teased, and leaned down into his boyfriend's open arms.
“Cas?”
“Hello, Dean.”
“What the hell, man?” Dean quickly shifted into worry. “It’s three in the morning. Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I thought you were on shift until tomorrow.”
“I left early. We...were allowed. To leave early.”
Dean opened the door. “Come in.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s okay,” Dean soothed. “Come on. Come in.”
Cas crossed inside. Dean took his coat and lead him to the small kitchen, where he poured Cas some white wine from the bottle he kept just for him, and handed it over in a whiskey glass. Cas downed it in a huge swallow. “Easy, tiger,” Dean teased, but refilled the glass anyway. “Something happen?”
“We lost a child. A five year old with a peanut allergy. He hid some candy in his room. His parents checked on him before they went to bed. It was too late.”
Dean didn’t flinch, or gasp, or roar about the parents, the way Rachel would have. He didn’t roll his eyes like Gabe would, or lecture him about the job, the way the family would. He just looked at him with those warm, kind eyes, and a solid, steady little smile-not about the death, but to make Cas feel more comfortable sharing what had happened.
“My friend Peter...he’s the emergency pediatrician-”
“I know. The Brit.”
“Yeah. He...he wasn’t doing very well.” He left out the fact that Peter had utterly refused to call it, and had continued to administer treatment until Anna came in and overrode him. “Anna let me take him home. He just wanted to go to the bar.” He again left out Peter sobbing in the surgeon’s bathroom, Cas at a total, impotent loss of how to console him. Peter may be a pompous ass to adults, but he loved the kids who came through those doors. Cas finished his glass and held it out, but Dean shook his head.
“That’s not the answer. Come lay down with me.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“We don’t have to sleep.”
“I’m not in the mood, Dean.”
“Dude, I’m not an ass. I just want to hold you.”
Cas felt his eyes fill. Dean’s expression softened and he moved forward, taking the glass and placing it in the sink. “C’mon.”
Cas had loved Rachel, and she’d been there for him. But the first time he tried to tell her about losing someone, she’d ended up crying, talking about losing her Aunt, and he’d held and rocked her while his own hurt festered. Since then, he’d kept the worse of the losses to himself, crying alone or, occasionally, while he reported to Anna, who always patted his hand and assured him he’d done everything he could.
This had been the first night he’d climbed into bed and ached so bad for Dean it was physical. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but think about how badly he wanted to talk to him, wanted to lean on him, wanted Dean’s hand in his hair, around his waist.
Dean lead him to the bedroom, undressed him with care, and pulled him down onto the bed, amidst the pillows and blankets, a hand slipping under his t-shirt to rub the bare skin of his back. Cas sighed against him, caught sight of the photo of a young Sam, with Ellen and Bobby, kept faithfully beside Dean’s bed, and smiled to himself. Dean was still in his sweats and his tee and Cas was still in his boxers and undershirt and Dean loved him, didn't need him to be undressed to show him how much. Dean wanted what Cas wanted--to be a rock in a family of people who loved him, who needed him. It was one of the things that had pulled them together in the first place.
“You can’t save everyone,” Dean murmured, kissing Cas’ forehead. Cas sighed and let himself be rocked, gently, by Dean's inhales and exhales.
“I’ve learned to deal with the loss of adults. Heart-attacks, strokes, car accidents...they’re terrible, but I’ve learned. But...parents should never have to lose a child. Never.”
“You’re right. But people do. And you can’t change that. You can only do what you can with what’s in front of you. And you do so much more than the rest of us.”
“Sometimes...I wish I’d never become a doctor. I wish I’d...I wish I didn’t care so much. I try to think...like my brothers, and my father. He always tried to make us think like soldiers. He said...medicine is a war. A war against death. And there will be casualties. See them as necessary for the greater good, and move forward.”
“That’s not you,” Dean said. “And look...there’s nothing wrong with feeling like shit because a kid died. You’d be a friggin’ sociopath if you didn’t. You just gotta realize that you’re not a miracle worker. Yeah, the rest of us slubs think you are, but you’re not. You just know a hell of a lot more than we do about how to fix us up.”
Cas reached out a shaky hand and touched Dean’s chest. “I missed you,” he said, his throat swelling with tears.
“Hey, you can always come here. I’ll get you a key, even.” Dean leaned against his forehead. “Look...I’m not a doc. Fixing cars isn’t fixing people. I get it. I don’t know what more I can do, other than listen and hold you. But I’ll do that all you want.”
Cas felt a sense of peace wash over him that he’d only ever felt since he’d been with Dean. There was something about him: a force, a logic, an amazing, steady confidence, that Cas wondered at. Dean’s ideas of right and wrong were far off the mark of his family’s, but unlike this family’s his moral compass seemed to be guided, completely, by love. Cas had never met anyone this selfless, this...huge hearted. He felt like a sliver of the moon next to Dean: a sliver clinging on to the greater rock.
“Dean...if I...bought us a house, would you live in it?” he said.
Dean’s hand stopped moving on his back. “What?”
“If I bought a house. Would you live in it?”
Dean snorted. “That sounds a little...off.”
Cas flushed. “I’m...trying to see if you’d...maybe consider living with me.”
Dean’s hand moved off his back and stroked his head. “That’s two different questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want us to move into together, and buy a house, sure. But I’m not letting you do it on your own.”
“But I can pay for it, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Dude, I don’t want you to.” Dean pulled away and sat up, looking Cas square in the eye. “If you want to...play this thing forward, than we’re going to be equals. Meaning we split the bills. Mortgage, electricity, cable-all of it. Otherwise, it’s not going to be you and me. It’s going to be you, me, and your damn money. I don’t want that. And I don’t want you questioning that that’s what this is all about.”
“I’ve never thought that,” he said, but the moment he said it, he realized he had wondered if that was why this loving, handsome, amazing man, had decided to love him. He was ashamed the moment he thought it, but that didn’t change the thought.
And it hit him, all over again, that he still didn’t know who he was without his last name. He’d realized that once before, and it had sent him out the mid-west. And here he was, and he still didn’t understand why Dean would want him for any reason other than his bank account.
But he also felt, for the first time, that if there was anyone in the world who could show him what he could be worth, without money and without the Morgans, it was the man holding him. The man he wanted to see when he woke in the morning, who he wanted to be in bed with when he fell asleep at night. The man he wanted by his side when he had to lay family and friends to rest. The man who didn’t seem to think sacrificing for those you loved was a sacrifice at all.
“I...I love you, Dean,” Cas managed. “And...I want to live with you.”
Dean smiled, leaned down, and kissed him. “I want to live with you too.”
“Will you buy a house with me?”
“I’ll buy a house with you.”
“I was thinking...we should get a two or three bedroom. So Sam would always have a place to stay. I don’t want him to ever feel unwelcome.”
Dean’s face glowed all the brighter. “You know...he was a total jackass at first. But he loves you now.”
“I love him too.” Cas grinned, shyly. “Jess told me, if I hung on long enough, that he’d be a great friend. And he is. And I’m...so glad I did.”
“Me too,” Dean grinned, dipped down, and kissed him again. “You know what? Me three,” he said, and dipped down, greeted by Cas’s joyous grin.
"Can I get a four? Maybe a five?" Cas teased, letting Dean pin his wrists.
"Don' know. I'm thinking I might go up to seven...maybe eight," Dean teased, and leaned down into his boyfriend's open arms.