Cheeseburgers and Pie (Chapter 11)
Finals passed easier for Dean this semester than in the first. Castiel said that it was due to Dean’s attention to studying and the extended tutoring sessions. Dean thinks it’s because he kept the rabbit’s foot in his pocket. They moved into the house the weekend after finals, giving Jo and Ash a list of basic materials that would get them started. A few days later, the materials arrived and Ash and Jo left the boys to their work, promising to stop by to drop off more materials and check in ever so often.
It was nice, Dean had been worried that being left alone with Castiel would bring back the types of feelings he’d been having at Christmas. The manual labor was distracting, plus the fact that Dean spent most of his time outside, while Castiel spent his time indoors, painting and arranging rooms. The only time they really spent together was when they were eating or camping out in the living room, laying their mattresses out in front of the fireplace with a single lamp in between the two, that they had set up until they moved in their furniture at the end of the summer. Things were going well, until around mid May.
“Goddamnit, Cas.” Dean growls, sitting up and glaring at the windows, “it’s still fucking raining.”
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel mumbles into his pillow.
“How long is it supposed to pour like this?” Dean whines, pulling up his sheet to keep the dampness from soaking even further into his skin.
“The weather man said all week.” Dean growls again and Castiel pulls his head under the pillow.
“It’s bullshit, I have to get that siding done.” Dean grumbles as he crawls over to stare daggers through the window at the water streaming off the gutters. Castiel murmurs something at his back that Dean thinks is along the lines of telling Dean to stop complaining and enjoy the break they’re getting from the work. He rolls his eyes and looks back at the damp landscape. He hears a screech from Castiel and whips around to find Castiel, soaked and sleepy, glaring at the ceiling that is currently streaming water over his head. It’s just going to add more work, but Dean can’t stop laughing at the ridiculous look on Castiel’s face. Castiel scowls at him before whipping his soaked pillow at Dean’s head. They spend the rest of the day setting up buckets and mopping the mess that had spread across the floors upstairs. It takes two more days for the rain to stop but when it finally does, Dean has to put the siding aside and focus on the leaking roof.
The roof takes three days to finish since Dean had to replace all the boards before re-tarring and restoring the shingles. The job should have been done in two days, but the first day he refused to wear sunscreen and ended up with blisters. Castiel had made Dean lay flat on his mattress and straddled his back to rub aloe over his shoulders. It was the most uncomfortable moment of his life, having to restrain himself from arching up into Castiel’s touch. He felt Castiel’s nimble fingers work the aloe gently over the burn, leaving a layer of cool gel. The next day Castiel wouldn’t let him go out on the roof, making Dean help him prime the kitchen instead. However on the third day, Castiel let him go, not without a thorough coat of sunscreen, after arguing with Dean about skin cancer for at least a half hour. Castiel refused to let him put it on though in case Dean missed a spot, not that Dean was protesting, having Castiel’s fingers running up and down his back was blissful torture. The way he massaged in the cool lotion, taking special care to be gentle around the blistered areas, fingers digging into tense, overworked muscles had Dean on edge. It was all he could do to make it out of the kitchen without staining the front of his jeans. Castiel didn’t seem to even notice the effect he was having on Dean. Thank fucking God for that. To make matters worse, every night when Dean climbed down the ladder for supper, Castiel met him at the threshold of the kitchen, shirt discarded and chest and arms smeared with paint handing him mile high sandwiches. The combination of the sun, heat, sweat, glorious food, and shirtless Castiel had Dean on edge. It was all he could do to sit quietly on his bed, stealing glances at Castiel as they ate together in the dim yellow light. Dean always made sure Castiel feel asleep first, in case he slipped into another sex dream. As hard as he was trying to repress his feelings, Dean’s brain had other ideas in mind. He’d already had two imaginary mind-blowing blowjobs and a session of sex that had ended with the kitchen table in splinters. Dean wasn’t sure if he had spoken in any of them, but judging by the way Castiel’s behavior hadn’t changed in the slightest, he was none the wiser to Dean’s elicit dream world activities.
Once the roof was done, it was time to focus back on the siding, along with anything else that Dean could think of to do that kept him out of the house and away from the images of Castiel bent over every surface that his brain and dick deemed fit. Fortunately for him, there was enough work to keep him busy for most of the month of June. When July rolled around, Castiel cornered him while he was admiring the finished kitchen. Dean was taking a break from his work, eating a quick snack while sitting on the countertops and studying the olive green walls that were patterned with large, slightly darker green diamonds that went from the white molding on the ceiling to the matching white floorboards and ran all the way around the room stopping at the edge of the kitchen sink which was framed with small tan tiles that extended up towards the window before gradually fading out. It was impressive; especially considering Castiel had managed to get it all done in about three days. He was working like a mad man, painting multiple rooms at once, laying new tile in the bathrooms, scrubbing and cleaning baseboards until his knees were raw, which lead Dean to other thoughts, but he pushed those down as soon as they peeked out from their hiding spots. He was running his hand over the whitewashed cabinets when he heard Castiel clear his throat behind him.
He whipped around to find Castiel inches from his face. “Jesus, Cas, warn a guy!”
“Apologies.” Castiel said, taking a step back while running his eyes over Dean’s deeply tanned upper body. The attention made Dean’s skin flush, but he quickly willed himself to calm down. “I was wondering if you would accompany me upstairs.”
“Yeah, sure.” Dean followed Castiel’s form out of the kitchen and around the corner to the staircase, climbing each hardwood step, making mental notes as to which ones needed to be sanded and re-stained. They stopped at the entrance to the room Dean picked out and just as Dean was about to open the door, Castiel grabbed his wrist.
“Please,” Castiel said, eyes to the floor, “close your eyes.”
“Uh, alright.” Dean’s mind instantly supplied countless ways this could end, all involving less clothing, but calmly waited for whatever Castiel was going to show him. He tensed as Castiel grabbed his hand, dragging him in through the doorway and placing him in what felt like the middle of the room. Castiel let go and Dean almost instinctively reached back out from his hand, but stilled it when he remembered himself.
“Alright, you may open them,” Castiel’s voice came as a gruff whisper, ghosting over his ear. It sent a chill through Dean’s spine and he carefully opened his eyes.
“Cas.” Dean whispered, overwhelmed by the sight before him. Castiel had painted Dean’s room grey on three walls, with thick vertical stripes of blue and grey on the wall next to the window. Castiel had taped notebook paper to the bare walls indication where pieces of furniture would go and in his mind’s eye, it was perfect. Castiel had placed Dean’s bed on the striped wall, far enough away from the window that the early morning light wouldn’t wake him up. In the midday sun, the grey of the stripes seemed to shimmer and reflect more light than the blue of the walls. Dean stepped closer to investigate to find that the stripes had been meticulously hand painted with a metallic silver in a pattern that resembled the furniture from his room back in Lawrence. He ran his fingers over the delicate designs for a while, trying to grasp how Castiel had memorized the patterns from the furniture and transferred it effortlessly to the walls. He stepped back to take it all in once more before turning to Castiel. His friend was standing in the middle of the room picking at a spot of paint on his worn out t-shirt, deliberately not meeting Dean’s eye. Dean stepped forward and Castiel finally looked up, eyes wide and expectant. Dean opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, Castiel’s face contorted into embarrassment and sorrow, breaking Dean’s heart. He did the only logical thing he could think of and reached out to wrap Castiel in his arms. “It’s awesome.”
“I’m, glad you like it.” Castiel says as he buries his face in Dean’s neck and squeezes Dean’s ribs slightly in his embrace. “I am not naturally inclined to painting, the pattern was, a bitch.”
Dean snorts into Castiel’s hair at the awkward cursing. He feels Castiel’s forehead crease against his neck and then the slow spread of a smile drag across the skin of his shoulder. Dean forgets himself and lets his arms slip down to rest against Castiel’s hips and Castiel snakes his up under Dean’s arms in return, bringing them closer together. They stay like that, the warmth between them bringing out the smell of Dean’s tanned skin and Castiel’s hair that smells paint and like the herbal tea shampoo Sam introduced him to. The mixture is intoxicating and Dean can’t remember how long he’s been standing there holding Castiel, but he knows it’s been longer than socially acceptable, he just can’t seem to care. Dean lets his hands wander in small motions, across Castiel’s lower back and the up the curve of his spine. Castiel’s breath hitches and he goes tense under Dean’s fingers before Dean realizes what he’s been doing. With a huge effort he peels himself away from Castiel, holding his friend out at arms length. He pats him once more firmly on the shoulder and gives him a small smile. Castiel’s head tilts in confusion but he returns it cautiously before Dean clears his throat and exits the room quickly, pausing at the doorway to say something, before deciding better of it and just nodding again and leaving Castiel bewildered in the middle of the room.
Days go by before Dean lets himself be alone like that with Castiel again. It’s the Fourth of July and Dean doesn’t even realize until fireworks go off in the distance. They’re eating dinner in their usual silence when the first one goes off, starling them both. Castiel snaps his head up to glare out the window.
“What’s the matter Cas? Scared of fireworks?” Dean teases.
“In my experience, one has to have encountered an object before developing a fear of it.” Castiel replies coolly. He’d been acting strange since Dean left him alone in his bedroom, but Dean figured he’d deserved it since he’s been taking extreme measures to make sure that he stays as far away from Castiel as possible.
“You mean you’ve never seen fireworks?” Castiel shakes his head in reply. Dean drops his plate and snatches the remains of Castiel’s dinner from him before pulling the younger man to his feet and dragging him up to his bedroom. Just like back at Lawrence, Dean had picked the bedroom that had a roof right outside the window. He pulled Castiel out with him, nearly ramming his friend’s head into the frame. They settle down and watch the fireworks from the local production as they climb over the tree line, soft rumbles and cracks traveling across the crisp summer air. Dean stops watching after a short while though and focuses on recording Castiel’s reactions. At first he wears the expression he’s been wearing for days, a mixture between annoyed and angry, but it melts away as the dazzling display plays out before him. With each new explosion, his eyes widen, taking it all in with childlike wonder. The reds and greens and blues and golds dance across his features and in that moment Dean almost allows himself to think that Castiel is beautiful. As the finale comes to a conclusion, Castiel continues to stare out in the distance. “Uh, Cas?” Castiel makes a noise of recognition but doesn’t meet Dean’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay man?”
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel sighs. “Just contemplating what else I’ve missed in my life.”
“What do you mean?” Dean scoots closer into Castiel’s personal space.
“I didn’t have very many opportunities when I was younger. I was homeschooled, tutored in private to protect me from the outside world. I rarely left the house and if I did it was to go to church with my nanny. I’ve told you I spent most of my time with my mother.” Dean nods his head, remembering, “When I was given to Raphael, I was kept shut in, as I’ve mentioned. I knew about things from what I’ve read. Fireworks, for instance were first invented by the Chinese. But seeing them is completely different from experiencing them.” Castiel sighs again and turns to Dean. “I thought I knew a lot about the world, but you’ve shown me so much in our short time together, I have a feeling I don’t know much at all.” Where Dean thought he would see despair is a new determination shining through Castiel’s eyes.
“I know I’m not the smartest guy on campus,” Dean starts.
“Dean, don’t say that.” Castiel turns to him fiercely, grabbing Dean’s wrists in a vice-like grip. “You’re smart, one of the smartest people I know.”
“Yeah, yeah, Cas,” Dean lets his arms fall into Castiel’s lap. “Anyway.”
“No, Dean. Listen.” Castiel pulls at his wrists until he’s facing Castiel’s intense gaze. “You are smart. You may not pull a 4.0 but you’re an innovative thinker, you fixed that man’s car in the parking lot of the diner with duct tape and soda water. When our TV stopped working you took it apart and fixed it. You’ve repaired the roof and rewired the house. Dean, you know more about cars and practical problem solving than I could ever hope to.” Dean snorts and rolls his eyes which earns him a low growl as Castiel’s grip tightened to almost painful. “Do not underestimate yourself,” Castiel’s tone had gone deadly serious and his eyes shone sharp in the moonlight. “You are a great man, Dean Winchester.”
A lump forms in Dean’s throat and he can’t speak. He just sits there with his hands in Castiel’s lap and tears welling in his eyes. Of all the moments to cry, this is not one of them, but Dean can’t stop them. No one’s ever said such nice things to him. Especially about his intelligence. Dean can’t manage to make eye contact with Castiel anymore, knowing that the building wall of tears will come spilling over soon. When their gaze is broken, Castiel lets Dean’s wrists go and Dean brings his hands up quickly to wipe the majority of the tears away.
“Dean?” Dean can hear Castiel shuffle closer, feel the warmth coming off of his friend, but he can’t pull himself together enough to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” After a few more moments, Dean feels Castiel tense as he starts to shift away and Dean reaches out to stop him.
“I’m not upset, Cas.” Dean lifts his head to look at Castiel then, just as his hand lands on Castiel’s knee. “No one’s ever said something like that to me.” Castiel softens again and settles back into his place next to Dean.
“Now someone has.” Castiel states, a small reassuring smile spreading across his face. He reaches up to wipe a stray tear away with his thumb and Dean leans into his touch, breathing in the smell of the watermelon hand soap Castiel bought last week and a layer of fresh paint from the hallway that Castiel had been working on all day. Dean lets himself get lost in the scent, imagining the paint covered fingers running over his sore, sun burnt muscles. He’s not sure how long he lets his mind wander, but he knows it’s been too long. He snaps his eyes open to find Castiel staring at him, an unidentifiable look on his face. Embarrassment surges through Dean’s body and he feels himself flush so violently he’s sure it can be seen even in the dim moonlight. Castiel tenses again and pulls his hand back. They sit together in silence for a moment longer.
“Thank you,” Dean finally says, breaking the awkwardness.
“For what exactly?” Castiel’s voice is thick with apprehension, making his usual soft rumble sharp like gravel.
“Honestly?” Castiel nods, anxiety still clear in his expression. “Everything, man. I wouldn’t have made it to second semester without you. In fact, I was thinking about not coming back.” Castiel’s eyes go wide at this. “I mean, it was before we started talking. I thought maybe I would just go to work at Bobby’s or something, take another year. I don’t know, man. College was kind of kicking my ass. Not like, grade wise. I was doing fine, except economics, but whatever, I didn’t have any friends and I don’t know. It all sounds so ridiculous compared to what you’ve been through.”
“I think I understand.” Castiel says. “You’re welcome.”
Dean smiles softly and sits up on his knees. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading in. Gonna start redoing the porch tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll sit out here some more, if you don’t mind.” Dean nods and slips back in through the window.
Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Epilogue |
It was nice, Dean had been worried that being left alone with Castiel would bring back the types of feelings he’d been having at Christmas. The manual labor was distracting, plus the fact that Dean spent most of his time outside, while Castiel spent his time indoors, painting and arranging rooms. The only time they really spent together was when they were eating or camping out in the living room, laying their mattresses out in front of the fireplace with a single lamp in between the two, that they had set up until they moved in their furniture at the end of the summer. Things were going well, until around mid May.
“Goddamnit, Cas.” Dean growls, sitting up and glaring at the windows, “it’s still fucking raining.”
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel mumbles into his pillow.
“How long is it supposed to pour like this?” Dean whines, pulling up his sheet to keep the dampness from soaking even further into his skin.
“The weather man said all week.” Dean growls again and Castiel pulls his head under the pillow.
“It’s bullshit, I have to get that siding done.” Dean grumbles as he crawls over to stare daggers through the window at the water streaming off the gutters. Castiel murmurs something at his back that Dean thinks is along the lines of telling Dean to stop complaining and enjoy the break they’re getting from the work. He rolls his eyes and looks back at the damp landscape. He hears a screech from Castiel and whips around to find Castiel, soaked and sleepy, glaring at the ceiling that is currently streaming water over his head. It’s just going to add more work, but Dean can’t stop laughing at the ridiculous look on Castiel’s face. Castiel scowls at him before whipping his soaked pillow at Dean’s head. They spend the rest of the day setting up buckets and mopping the mess that had spread across the floors upstairs. It takes two more days for the rain to stop but when it finally does, Dean has to put the siding aside and focus on the leaking roof.
The roof takes three days to finish since Dean had to replace all the boards before re-tarring and restoring the shingles. The job should have been done in two days, but the first day he refused to wear sunscreen and ended up with blisters. Castiel had made Dean lay flat on his mattress and straddled his back to rub aloe over his shoulders. It was the most uncomfortable moment of his life, having to restrain himself from arching up into Castiel’s touch. He felt Castiel’s nimble fingers work the aloe gently over the burn, leaving a layer of cool gel. The next day Castiel wouldn’t let him go out on the roof, making Dean help him prime the kitchen instead. However on the third day, Castiel let him go, not without a thorough coat of sunscreen, after arguing with Dean about skin cancer for at least a half hour. Castiel refused to let him put it on though in case Dean missed a spot, not that Dean was protesting, having Castiel’s fingers running up and down his back was blissful torture. The way he massaged in the cool lotion, taking special care to be gentle around the blistered areas, fingers digging into tense, overworked muscles had Dean on edge. It was all he could do to make it out of the kitchen without staining the front of his jeans. Castiel didn’t seem to even notice the effect he was having on Dean. Thank fucking God for that. To make matters worse, every night when Dean climbed down the ladder for supper, Castiel met him at the threshold of the kitchen, shirt discarded and chest and arms smeared with paint handing him mile high sandwiches. The combination of the sun, heat, sweat, glorious food, and shirtless Castiel had Dean on edge. It was all he could do to sit quietly on his bed, stealing glances at Castiel as they ate together in the dim yellow light. Dean always made sure Castiel feel asleep first, in case he slipped into another sex dream. As hard as he was trying to repress his feelings, Dean’s brain had other ideas in mind. He’d already had two imaginary mind-blowing blowjobs and a session of sex that had ended with the kitchen table in splinters. Dean wasn’t sure if he had spoken in any of them, but judging by the way Castiel’s behavior hadn’t changed in the slightest, he was none the wiser to Dean’s elicit dream world activities.
Once the roof was done, it was time to focus back on the siding, along with anything else that Dean could think of to do that kept him out of the house and away from the images of Castiel bent over every surface that his brain and dick deemed fit. Fortunately for him, there was enough work to keep him busy for most of the month of June. When July rolled around, Castiel cornered him while he was admiring the finished kitchen. Dean was taking a break from his work, eating a quick snack while sitting on the countertops and studying the olive green walls that were patterned with large, slightly darker green diamonds that went from the white molding on the ceiling to the matching white floorboards and ran all the way around the room stopping at the edge of the kitchen sink which was framed with small tan tiles that extended up towards the window before gradually fading out. It was impressive; especially considering Castiel had managed to get it all done in about three days. He was working like a mad man, painting multiple rooms at once, laying new tile in the bathrooms, scrubbing and cleaning baseboards until his knees were raw, which lead Dean to other thoughts, but he pushed those down as soon as they peeked out from their hiding spots. He was running his hand over the whitewashed cabinets when he heard Castiel clear his throat behind him.
He whipped around to find Castiel inches from his face. “Jesus, Cas, warn a guy!”
“Apologies.” Castiel said, taking a step back while running his eyes over Dean’s deeply tanned upper body. The attention made Dean’s skin flush, but he quickly willed himself to calm down. “I was wondering if you would accompany me upstairs.”
“Yeah, sure.” Dean followed Castiel’s form out of the kitchen and around the corner to the staircase, climbing each hardwood step, making mental notes as to which ones needed to be sanded and re-stained. They stopped at the entrance to the room Dean picked out and just as Dean was about to open the door, Castiel grabbed his wrist.
“Please,” Castiel said, eyes to the floor, “close your eyes.”
“Uh, alright.” Dean’s mind instantly supplied countless ways this could end, all involving less clothing, but calmly waited for whatever Castiel was going to show him. He tensed as Castiel grabbed his hand, dragging him in through the doorway and placing him in what felt like the middle of the room. Castiel let go and Dean almost instinctively reached back out from his hand, but stilled it when he remembered himself.
“Alright, you may open them,” Castiel’s voice came as a gruff whisper, ghosting over his ear. It sent a chill through Dean’s spine and he carefully opened his eyes.
“Cas.” Dean whispered, overwhelmed by the sight before him. Castiel had painted Dean’s room grey on three walls, with thick vertical stripes of blue and grey on the wall next to the window. Castiel had taped notebook paper to the bare walls indication where pieces of furniture would go and in his mind’s eye, it was perfect. Castiel had placed Dean’s bed on the striped wall, far enough away from the window that the early morning light wouldn’t wake him up. In the midday sun, the grey of the stripes seemed to shimmer and reflect more light than the blue of the walls. Dean stepped closer to investigate to find that the stripes had been meticulously hand painted with a metallic silver in a pattern that resembled the furniture from his room back in Lawrence. He ran his fingers over the delicate designs for a while, trying to grasp how Castiel had memorized the patterns from the furniture and transferred it effortlessly to the walls. He stepped back to take it all in once more before turning to Castiel. His friend was standing in the middle of the room picking at a spot of paint on his worn out t-shirt, deliberately not meeting Dean’s eye. Dean stepped forward and Castiel finally looked up, eyes wide and expectant. Dean opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, Castiel’s face contorted into embarrassment and sorrow, breaking Dean’s heart. He did the only logical thing he could think of and reached out to wrap Castiel in his arms. “It’s awesome.”
“I’m, glad you like it.” Castiel says as he buries his face in Dean’s neck and squeezes Dean’s ribs slightly in his embrace. “I am not naturally inclined to painting, the pattern was, a bitch.”
Dean snorts into Castiel’s hair at the awkward cursing. He feels Castiel’s forehead crease against his neck and then the slow spread of a smile drag across the skin of his shoulder. Dean forgets himself and lets his arms slip down to rest against Castiel’s hips and Castiel snakes his up under Dean’s arms in return, bringing them closer together. They stay like that, the warmth between them bringing out the smell of Dean’s tanned skin and Castiel’s hair that smells paint and like the herbal tea shampoo Sam introduced him to. The mixture is intoxicating and Dean can’t remember how long he’s been standing there holding Castiel, but he knows it’s been longer than socially acceptable, he just can’t seem to care. Dean lets his hands wander in small motions, across Castiel’s lower back and the up the curve of his spine. Castiel’s breath hitches and he goes tense under Dean’s fingers before Dean realizes what he’s been doing. With a huge effort he peels himself away from Castiel, holding his friend out at arms length. He pats him once more firmly on the shoulder and gives him a small smile. Castiel’s head tilts in confusion but he returns it cautiously before Dean clears his throat and exits the room quickly, pausing at the doorway to say something, before deciding better of it and just nodding again and leaving Castiel bewildered in the middle of the room.
Days go by before Dean lets himself be alone like that with Castiel again. It’s the Fourth of July and Dean doesn’t even realize until fireworks go off in the distance. They’re eating dinner in their usual silence when the first one goes off, starling them both. Castiel snaps his head up to glare out the window.
“What’s the matter Cas? Scared of fireworks?” Dean teases.
“In my experience, one has to have encountered an object before developing a fear of it.” Castiel replies coolly. He’d been acting strange since Dean left him alone in his bedroom, but Dean figured he’d deserved it since he’s been taking extreme measures to make sure that he stays as far away from Castiel as possible.
“You mean you’ve never seen fireworks?” Castiel shakes his head in reply. Dean drops his plate and snatches the remains of Castiel’s dinner from him before pulling the younger man to his feet and dragging him up to his bedroom. Just like back at Lawrence, Dean had picked the bedroom that had a roof right outside the window. He pulled Castiel out with him, nearly ramming his friend’s head into the frame. They settle down and watch the fireworks from the local production as they climb over the tree line, soft rumbles and cracks traveling across the crisp summer air. Dean stops watching after a short while though and focuses on recording Castiel’s reactions. At first he wears the expression he’s been wearing for days, a mixture between annoyed and angry, but it melts away as the dazzling display plays out before him. With each new explosion, his eyes widen, taking it all in with childlike wonder. The reds and greens and blues and golds dance across his features and in that moment Dean almost allows himself to think that Castiel is beautiful. As the finale comes to a conclusion, Castiel continues to stare out in the distance. “Uh, Cas?” Castiel makes a noise of recognition but doesn’t meet Dean’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay man?”
“Yes, Dean.” Castiel sighs. “Just contemplating what else I’ve missed in my life.”
“What do you mean?” Dean scoots closer into Castiel’s personal space.
“I didn’t have very many opportunities when I was younger. I was homeschooled, tutored in private to protect me from the outside world. I rarely left the house and if I did it was to go to church with my nanny. I’ve told you I spent most of my time with my mother.” Dean nods his head, remembering, “When I was given to Raphael, I was kept shut in, as I’ve mentioned. I knew about things from what I’ve read. Fireworks, for instance were first invented by the Chinese. But seeing them is completely different from experiencing them.” Castiel sighs again and turns to Dean. “I thought I knew a lot about the world, but you’ve shown me so much in our short time together, I have a feeling I don’t know much at all.” Where Dean thought he would see despair is a new determination shining through Castiel’s eyes.
“I know I’m not the smartest guy on campus,” Dean starts.
“Dean, don’t say that.” Castiel turns to him fiercely, grabbing Dean’s wrists in a vice-like grip. “You’re smart, one of the smartest people I know.”
“Yeah, yeah, Cas,” Dean lets his arms fall into Castiel’s lap. “Anyway.”
“No, Dean. Listen.” Castiel pulls at his wrists until he’s facing Castiel’s intense gaze. “You are smart. You may not pull a 4.0 but you’re an innovative thinker, you fixed that man’s car in the parking lot of the diner with duct tape and soda water. When our TV stopped working you took it apart and fixed it. You’ve repaired the roof and rewired the house. Dean, you know more about cars and practical problem solving than I could ever hope to.” Dean snorts and rolls his eyes which earns him a low growl as Castiel’s grip tightened to almost painful. “Do not underestimate yourself,” Castiel’s tone had gone deadly serious and his eyes shone sharp in the moonlight. “You are a great man, Dean Winchester.”
A lump forms in Dean’s throat and he can’t speak. He just sits there with his hands in Castiel’s lap and tears welling in his eyes. Of all the moments to cry, this is not one of them, but Dean can’t stop them. No one’s ever said such nice things to him. Especially about his intelligence. Dean can’t manage to make eye contact with Castiel anymore, knowing that the building wall of tears will come spilling over soon. When their gaze is broken, Castiel lets Dean’s wrists go and Dean brings his hands up quickly to wipe the majority of the tears away.
“Dean?” Dean can hear Castiel shuffle closer, feel the warmth coming off of his friend, but he can’t pull himself together enough to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” After a few more moments, Dean feels Castiel tense as he starts to shift away and Dean reaches out to stop him.
“I’m not upset, Cas.” Dean lifts his head to look at Castiel then, just as his hand lands on Castiel’s knee. “No one’s ever said something like that to me.” Castiel softens again and settles back into his place next to Dean.
“Now someone has.” Castiel states, a small reassuring smile spreading across his face. He reaches up to wipe a stray tear away with his thumb and Dean leans into his touch, breathing in the smell of the watermelon hand soap Castiel bought last week and a layer of fresh paint from the hallway that Castiel had been working on all day. Dean lets himself get lost in the scent, imagining the paint covered fingers running over his sore, sun burnt muscles. He’s not sure how long he lets his mind wander, but he knows it’s been too long. He snaps his eyes open to find Castiel staring at him, an unidentifiable look on his face. Embarrassment surges through Dean’s body and he feels himself flush so violently he’s sure it can be seen even in the dim moonlight. Castiel tenses again and pulls his hand back. They sit together in silence for a moment longer.
“Thank you,” Dean finally says, breaking the awkwardness.
“For what exactly?” Castiel’s voice is thick with apprehension, making his usual soft rumble sharp like gravel.
“Honestly?” Castiel nods, anxiety still clear in his expression. “Everything, man. I wouldn’t have made it to second semester without you. In fact, I was thinking about not coming back.” Castiel’s eyes go wide at this. “I mean, it was before we started talking. I thought maybe I would just go to work at Bobby’s or something, take another year. I don’t know, man. College was kind of kicking my ass. Not like, grade wise. I was doing fine, except economics, but whatever, I didn’t have any friends and I don’t know. It all sounds so ridiculous compared to what you’ve been through.”
“I think I understand.” Castiel says. “You’re welcome.”
Dean smiles softly and sits up on his knees. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading in. Gonna start redoing the porch tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll sit out here some more, if you don’t mind.” Dean nods and slips back in through the window.
Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Epilogue |