Everything will be okay, 1/1, PG13, Dean x Castiel, 3,200
Title: Everything will be okay
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore, Jo Harvelle, Gordon Walker, Bobby Singer
Warning(s): Hurt/Comfort
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): For tigerist for SPN Secret Fic Exchange #1. The prompts were the bastardizations of something involving Dean in a fire and needing a therapist, and Cas being the hot guy Dean hits on at a bar and was originally posted here.
Word Count: Approx. 3,200
Rants: Title is from the quote Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end.. This was a lot of fun to write. :)
Summary: After an incident created by Dean being a firefighter, Sam suggests Dean see a therapist. Only, Dean doesn't want to.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Crossposted to: Meh.
“You’re still not sleeping.”
Dean pauses, half gallon jug of milk lifted to his mouth, before glancing over at Sam. The words are an accusation, not a question, and it’s the reason that Dean doesn’t snap back in reply.
Sam always did have a way of seeing past his defenses. “Dean…”
”It’s nothing, Sammy,” Dean says, shrugging. He takes a swig of the milk (”Dammit, Dean, that’s disgusting! How many times do I have to ask you not to do that?””) before he caps the jug and slips it back into the fridge. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slipping the fridge shut easily. “I got some sleep.”
”Right, because waking up near screaming is a good sign that you’ve been resting,” Sam scowls. He cuts off Dean before Dean can complain, scowling harder. “Don’t try and lie to me, Dean. I’m not an idiot. You need to see somebody about this.”
”I’m fine, Sam,” Dean snaps. He came into the kitchen with the intention of making breakfast - eggs or toast or something - but he’s lost his appetite. He brushes past Sam on his way through the kitchen and down the hall.
”Dean, where are you going?”
Dean scowls when he realizes Sam is following him. ”To take a shower. Why, wanna watch?” he asks, banging open the door to his bedroom. “I’m sure Jess would love to know her fiancé is a perv.”
Sam opens his mouth to complain, but Dean shuts the door before he can. For a beat, it seems like Sam might complain still or just push the door back open, but he stalks down the hall of their apartment and grumbles under his breath.
It’s a small victory. Dean has no doubts that Sam will be hounding about him seeing a therapist soon enough.
- - -
Dean’s barely in the door of the fire station when -
”You look like shit, Winchester.”
- and he has to fight the urge to bang his head on the wall. He glowers at Gordon warily, before brushing past him. “You look like a real prize, too, Walker.”
”You know Bobby will skin you alive if you fuck up again.” Gordon is trailing behind Dean, cocky and smug and a million other adjectives that add up to Dean wanting to punch him. “You’ve been off for two days, you should try getting some sleep instead of getting your dick wet for once.”
”You’re just jealous the I’m a firefighter line doesn’t work for you when people are sober enough to see you straight,” Dean snaps back. “Would you leave me alone, now? I’ve got stuff to do.”
Gordon snorts. “I’ve got better things to do than hang out with you all day.”
Ellen once said the animosity between he and Gordon would get someone killed, one day. The fact that she wasn’t far off from the truth still sits heavy in Dean’s stomach, like a stone that’s too heavy to lift.
Dean rolls his eyes before shooting a glare at Gordon. He’d snap back at him, but when they pass the kitchen, Gordon slips into it and leaves Dean to wander around to find Bobby on his own.
- - -
”Bobby,” Dean says, nudging the door to Bobby’s office open with his foot. He’s hesitant to enter, because being in here usually means he’s getting reamed about something.
”Sam says you still ain’t sleeping,” Bobby says without turning around, his attention fixated on his laptop. He looks annoyed, more so than usual.
That traitorous little bastard, Dean thinks. “Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He doesn’t know when Sam talked to Bobby last, but he bets it was at The Roadhouse.
Bobby does glance at Dean then, scrutinizing him carefully. “Go upstairs and get your ass in bed,” he says after a moment, “You’ll know if we need you.”
”Bobby - “ Dean starts, affronted.
”I could always send you home, idjit.”
Dean doesn’t have to like it, definitely doesn’t like it, but there is no point in arguing with Bobby. Dean has no doubts at all that Bobby would send him home, with an escort to make sure he got there, kicking and screaming the entire way.
”Now, before I change my mind,” Bobby snaps. “Close the door behind you.”
Dean only obeys because he has no doubts that Bobby would kick his ass if he didn’t.
- - -
He tries to sleep, tossing and turning on the twin sized mattress, but every time he closes his eyes he sees a wall of fire and the screams of a little boy echo through his mind.
- - -
It’s another three days of restless nights and getting yelled at by Bobby before Dean decides that maybe Sam is right. Dean doesn’t want to see anybody - he knows that everything was his fault, doesn’t he deserve to suffer for it? - but he’s so damn tired all the time. He’s scared Bobby will kick him to the curb, or worse: put him on probation again.
So Dean is pretty much screwed, either way. The only good thing is is that if he goes to The Roadhouse and pouts at Jess and Jo, one of them is sure to give him a round of Jack on the house.
”You’re kind of pathetic,” Jo says when she passes him a tumbler.
”What Jo means to say is that there is nothing wrong with asking for help,” Jess says. She pats Dean’s back sympathetically. “Even you should know that.”
”I don’t need help,” Dean grumbles, sipping at his glass. “I need sleep.”
”And if you need to talk to someone in order to get it?” Jess asks. She slips onto the barstool next to him, twirling until she faces him and frowns. “I’m not saying it needs to be Sam or Jo or me, not even Ellen or Bobby, but maybe you should try talking to someone.”
”Yeah, no, I’ll pass.”
Jess and Jo share a look, before Jo shakes her head and wanders off down the bar. “Listen, Dean…”
”Jess, I like you, and I think you’re awesome and will have no problem whipping Sam into shape, but this isn’t one of those things that are going change just because you say my name and look at me like that.”
For a moment, Jess looks like she’s going to complain, but she just shakes her head and grins. “Mr. Mysterious, Tall, Dark and Sexy is here.”
Dean follows Jess’ line of sight easily, and sure enough, Castiel is already making his way towards the bar. “Great,” Dean mutters.
”What, you don’t want to spend all night flirting only to fail and have to go home and jerk off?” Jess asks innocently. “You could just tell him.”
”What the Hell am I supposed to tell him?” Dean asks, scowling.
”Cas, Dean wants to have sex with you,” Jess says.
Dean nearly jumps out of his skin, because suddenly Castiel is there, his fingers curling around Dean’s bicep in greeting. “Jess, you whore!”
”Hello, Jess,” Castiel says. He lets go of Dean’s arm to slide into the bar stool next to Dean. “How are you?”
Jess looks at Castiel suspiciously - either he had assumed she was joking, hadn’t heard her, or didn’t care - before she just shrugs. “You know. Work.”
”Which you should probably be doing,” Dean scowls.
”Boo, you whore,” Jess grins. She claps Dean’s back roughly, before standing up. “Nice to see you again, Cas. Dean.”
Dean waits for Jess to leave before he bangs his head on the bar. “My brother is marrying the Devil.”
”I thought you liked Jess,” Castiel says, frowning.
Glancing at Castiel out of the corners of his eyes, Dean smiles tiredly. “I do.”
”Then this is one of those… things…”
”For a shrink, you don’t really get people, do you?” Dean asks, laughing lightly.
”I have told you before, I am not that kind of psychologist,” Castiel replies warily. He gestures for Jo, but when she ducks her head to talk to Jess, Castiel simply sighs before stealing Dean’s glass.
Dean would complain, but Castiel’s lips are on the same spot of the glass Dean’s was, and for a moment he feels like he’s in the third grade again - giddy from his crush. “Could you be?”
”I do not know,” Castiel says. “I have all the degrees necessary. My interest in criminology is secondary to psychology itself...”
”No, I meant, could you? Like, hypothetically, listen to me bitch and moan and make me better?”
”That is not how the process works, Dean. Hypothetically, I could listen to you, yes, but you would not necessarily feel better. You would have to trust me with your fears.”
”Too chick flick, forget I asked.” Dean snags his glass back from Castiel and downs the last of the whiskey. He doesn’t miss the intensity of Castiel’s gaze, and he has to force himself to not react.
Castiel has been working with the city police department for five years and he has come to The Roadhouse every Thursday evening like clockwork. Dean’s been hitting on him since day one, and never has Castiel shown any inclination to respond or interest. Somewhere down the line, they became friends, and Dean actually really kind of likes that.
”But doesn’t the act of fornication imply trust in your partner?” Castiel asks slowly. He looks down at his hands, curling his fingers before spreading them flat on the bar. “You trust that they will not hurt you.”
”I guess.” Dean frowns. “I don’t understand - “
”You would fornicate with me, but you would not tell me the reason you are not getting any sleep lately?”
”Jess doesn’t know what the Hell she’s talking about,” Dean snaps, tensing up and glowering at his empty glass. “And I’m sleeping fine.”
Castiel quirks an eyebrow, a surprisingly human gesture considering Dean’s not entirely convinced Castiel isn’t an alien. “I see.”
Dean scowls harder.
- - -
”Jess wants me to tell you that you suck at life,” Sam announces. He’s reading from his cellphone as he strolls into the kitchen, a smirk on his face. “Apparently, you don’t appreciate her awesomeness at hooking people up.”
Dean debates banging his head against their wooden dining room table, but decides against it. He’d have to move his cereal out of the way and he doesn’t want to risk spilling any more milk. “Dude, her awesomeness consists of telling Cas I want to fuck him and then skipping away.”
”Jess doesn’t skip,” Sam says. “And I thought you did want to - to sleep with - Cas.”
”Dude, Cas isn’t like that,” Dean says, poking at his cereal despondently. “Besides, he thinks I have trust issues.”
”You do have trust issues.”
Dean just glowers.
”You know, I’d always figured there was something more to this,” Sam muses. He busies himself with making a bowl of cereal, only glancing at Dean occasionally. “I mean, five years of you hitting on him? And now you’re saying you don’t just want a one night stand?”
”I don’t like where your train of thought is heading...”
”It’s okay if you’re in love with him, Dean.”
”Fuck my life,” Dean groans. This time, he does shove his bowl out of the way so that he can bang his head on the table.
”No, seriously, this makes perfect sense,” Sam says. He stops making breakfast in favor of giving Dean a determined look. “This is almost healthy. It explains why you haven’t had a serious relationship in years.”
”Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up…” Dean groans.
”I need to tell Jess.” Sam ignores Dean’s protests in favor of pulling his phone back out, fingers skimming over the keyboard quickly. “She’ll know what to do.”
”I hate you so much,” Dean groans.
”You know,” Sam says slowly, glancing at Dean again. “You never said you weren’t in love with him.”
Dean opens his mouth to bitch, but he realizes Sam has a point. Well, fuck.
- - -
Dean manages to pass out and sleeps for almost twenty four hours straight, nightmare free. He’s not sure if Sam spiked the milk - which he wouldn’t entirely put past his brother at this point - but for the first time in a long time he feels like maybe he can be okay again.
He doubts the nightmares are gone for good, but when he stops by the fire station for his shift next, he doesn’t get banished to a bed and told to nap it off. Bobby just gives him a once over before sending him away to help wash one of the fire engines.
- - -
”You’re in a good mood,” Jo says when Dean slides up to sit at the bar. “Did you finally get laid?”
”I finally got sleep,” Dean counters, then pauses. “Hey, Cas.”
Castiel glances up from the notes sprawled in front of him and smiles at Dean. “Hello.”
”Does this mean Sam finally convinced you to see a shrink?” Jo asks, leaning forward on her elbows. “Or was it Bobby? My mom?”
”Does it matter?” Dean asks. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
Jo makes a face, sticking out her tongue out at Dean. She glances at Castiel, then back at Dean, and wiggles her eyebrows before she slides down the bar and away from them.
Dean is going to kill Sam and Jess.
”You passed out,” Castiel says. It’s not a question, and that gives Dean pause. “You are not really sleeping.”
”I guess that depends on how you define sleeping,” Dean says. He reaches over to steal Castiel’s glass, and Castiel lets him. It burns his throat, but in a way that isn’t going to give him issues with smoke inhalation and nightmares for weeks on end.
”Dean...”
”So there are two things I should probably tell you,” Dean says, cutting him off. “Well, I actually don’t have to tell you either, but I think I can. It would get Sam off of my back.”
”Does this have to do with Jess’ desire for us to copulate?” Castiel asks. He reaches for his glass back, but Dean doesn’t let go. His fingers sit heavy and warm on Dean’s own, and he doesn’t pull away. “Or with the fire?”
Dean stares at the glass, at where their fingers are touching. “Let me ask you something first, before I answer that.”
”Go ahead.”
”We’re friends, right?” Dean asks. He waits until Castiel nods, before he licks his lips and continues. “I’ve been hitting on you for years. Are you really that thick, or what?”
”I am not entirely sure what you’re trying to ask,” Castiel says, frowning.
”Do you want to sleep with me or not?”
”Oh.”
Dean frowns. “Just oh?”
”It is complicated,” Castiel says, sighing heavily. He removes his fingers Dean’s, settling for hooking a finger over the rim of the glass and tugging it towards him.
Dean watches the glass slide across the bar, watches the way Castiel’s throat moves as he swallows. “You care to elaborate?”
”The night we met, when you slipped away to answer your phone,” Castiel starts, then pauses. “Jo, I believe, had just been turned down by you. She told me that you simply wanted to fornicate and then would be done with me.”
”That bitch,” Dean mutters. He scowls down the length of the bar at Jo, but her back is towards him.
”I must admit I liked your attentions more than I should have,” Castiel continues. “When you continued to flirt, even when I continued to turn you down…”
”You didn’t want me to stop.”
Castiel seems startled Dean has caught on, but he nods his head. “Yes.”
”Sam thinks I may be in love with you,” Dean admits. He reaches for Castiel’s glass again, and isn’t surprised when Castiel lets him take it. Dean wonders when drink sharing became okay between them.
”And what do you think?” Castiel asks. He tilts his head to the side, watching Dean carefully. It’s his work face, Dean has come to realize, and the one he uses when something just does not compute.
”Honestly?” Dean asks. He takes another sip from the glass before toying with it, sliding it from hand to hand. “I think it’s something I’d be okay with.”
Castiel smiles softly, dropping his gaze to the glass and Dean’s hands. “This is progress.”
”Can I tell you something else? Something in confidence.” The words are out of Dean’s lips before he can stop himself, and he barrels on the moment Castiel nods his head, confused. “About a month ago I was working, putting out a fire. There was this kid, Ben. He was trapped and I mean, I managed to get him out. But then my partner Gordon and I got in an argument about the quickest way out. Gordon went one way, and I went the other, but the building started to collapse around me. I ended up getting stuck.”
”This is what your nightmares have been about.” A statement, not a question. For some reason, Castiel’s certainty is reassuring.
”Sort of. A part of me blames Gordon, I think,” Dean muses, dropping his gaze to the glass in his hands. “Another part of me thought I was going to die. My mom died in a house fire when I was four. My dad died on the job a few years ago. I just thought...”
Castiel’s hand is warm when he touches Dean’s arm, and he curls his fingers around Dean’s bicep reassuringly. “You are good at what you do, Dean.”
”So was my father,” Dean sighs. “Look, I don’t even know, man. This feelings thing isn’t really my forte.”
Castiel squeezes Dean’s arm once, reassuringly, before he lets go. “You have made progress, Dean. This is a good thing.”
”I thought you weren’t that kind of shrink,” Dean says, smiling faintly.
”Maybe not,” Castiel muses, smiling softly. “But it is nice to know you trust me with your pain.”
”Does this mean you’ll trust me in your bed?” The words are strained, a forced joke, but Dean doesn’t care.
Castiel looks at Dean, eyeing him appraisingly, his eyes dark and a soft smirk on his face. “We shall see,” he says, before he takes his glass back from Dean and downs the last of it.
Dean can work with that.
- - -
When Dean manages to fall asleep, curled around Castiel, limbs entangled, he neither passes out nor dreams of fires. Instead, he’s buried in an impossibly soft bed with Castiel smiling above him, glorious white wings spreading from Castiel’s back.
Dean won’t mention it to Castiel when he asks why Dean is smiling happily the next morning, but Dean holds tightly to the memory for as long as he can.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore, Jo Harvelle, Gordon Walker, Bobby Singer
Warning(s): Hurt/Comfort
Spoiler(s): None
Prompt(s): For tigerist for SPN Secret Fic Exchange #1. The prompts were the bastardizations of something involving Dean in a fire and needing a therapist, and Cas being the hot guy Dean hits on at a bar and was originally posted here.
Word Count: Approx. 3,200
Rants: Title is from the quote Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end.. This was a lot of fun to write. :)
Summary: After an incident created by Dean being a firefighter, Sam suggests Dean see a therapist. Only, Dean doesn't want to.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Crossposted to: Meh.
“You’re still not sleeping.”
Dean pauses, half gallon jug of milk lifted to his mouth, before glancing over at Sam. The words are an accusation, not a question, and it’s the reason that Dean doesn’t snap back in reply.
Sam always did have a way of seeing past his defenses. “Dean…”
”It’s nothing, Sammy,” Dean says, shrugging. He takes a swig of the milk (”Dammit, Dean, that’s disgusting! How many times do I have to ask you not to do that?””) before he caps the jug and slips it back into the fridge. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slipping the fridge shut easily. “I got some sleep.”
”Right, because waking up near screaming is a good sign that you’ve been resting,” Sam scowls. He cuts off Dean before Dean can complain, scowling harder. “Don’t try and lie to me, Dean. I’m not an idiot. You need to see somebody about this.”
”I’m fine, Sam,” Dean snaps. He came into the kitchen with the intention of making breakfast - eggs or toast or something - but he’s lost his appetite. He brushes past Sam on his way through the kitchen and down the hall.
”Dean, where are you going?”
Dean scowls when he realizes Sam is following him. ”To take a shower. Why, wanna watch?” he asks, banging open the door to his bedroom. “I’m sure Jess would love to know her fiancé is a perv.”
Sam opens his mouth to complain, but Dean shuts the door before he can. For a beat, it seems like Sam might complain still or just push the door back open, but he stalks down the hall of their apartment and grumbles under his breath.
It’s a small victory. Dean has no doubts that Sam will be hounding about him seeing a therapist soon enough.
- - -
Dean’s barely in the door of the fire station when -
”You look like shit, Winchester.”
- and he has to fight the urge to bang his head on the wall. He glowers at Gordon warily, before brushing past him. “You look like a real prize, too, Walker.”
”You know Bobby will skin you alive if you fuck up again.” Gordon is trailing behind Dean, cocky and smug and a million other adjectives that add up to Dean wanting to punch him. “You’ve been off for two days, you should try getting some sleep instead of getting your dick wet for once.”
”You’re just jealous the I’m a firefighter line doesn’t work for you when people are sober enough to see you straight,” Dean snaps back. “Would you leave me alone, now? I’ve got stuff to do.”
Gordon snorts. “I’ve got better things to do than hang out with you all day.”
Ellen once said the animosity between he and Gordon would get someone killed, one day. The fact that she wasn’t far off from the truth still sits heavy in Dean’s stomach, like a stone that’s too heavy to lift.
Dean rolls his eyes before shooting a glare at Gordon. He’d snap back at him, but when they pass the kitchen, Gordon slips into it and leaves Dean to wander around to find Bobby on his own.
- - -
”Bobby,” Dean says, nudging the door to Bobby’s office open with his foot. He’s hesitant to enter, because being in here usually means he’s getting reamed about something.
”Sam says you still ain’t sleeping,” Bobby says without turning around, his attention fixated on his laptop. He looks annoyed, more so than usual.
That traitorous little bastard, Dean thinks. “Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He doesn’t know when Sam talked to Bobby last, but he bets it was at The Roadhouse.
Bobby does glance at Dean then, scrutinizing him carefully. “Go upstairs and get your ass in bed,” he says after a moment, “You’ll know if we need you.”
”Bobby - “ Dean starts, affronted.
”I could always send you home, idjit.”
Dean doesn’t have to like it, definitely doesn’t like it, but there is no point in arguing with Bobby. Dean has no doubts at all that Bobby would send him home, with an escort to make sure he got there, kicking and screaming the entire way.
”Now, before I change my mind,” Bobby snaps. “Close the door behind you.”
Dean only obeys because he has no doubts that Bobby would kick his ass if he didn’t.
- - -
He tries to sleep, tossing and turning on the twin sized mattress, but every time he closes his eyes he sees a wall of fire and the screams of a little boy echo through his mind.
- - -
It’s another three days of restless nights and getting yelled at by Bobby before Dean decides that maybe Sam is right. Dean doesn’t want to see anybody - he knows that everything was his fault, doesn’t he deserve to suffer for it? - but he’s so damn tired all the time. He’s scared Bobby will kick him to the curb, or worse: put him on probation again.
So Dean is pretty much screwed, either way. The only good thing is is that if he goes to The Roadhouse and pouts at Jess and Jo, one of them is sure to give him a round of Jack on the house.
”You’re kind of pathetic,” Jo says when she passes him a tumbler.
”What Jo means to say is that there is nothing wrong with asking for help,” Jess says. She pats Dean’s back sympathetically. “Even you should know that.”
”I don’t need help,” Dean grumbles, sipping at his glass. “I need sleep.”
”And if you need to talk to someone in order to get it?” Jess asks. She slips onto the barstool next to him, twirling until she faces him and frowns. “I’m not saying it needs to be Sam or Jo or me, not even Ellen or Bobby, but maybe you should try talking to someone.”
”Yeah, no, I’ll pass.”
Jess and Jo share a look, before Jo shakes her head and wanders off down the bar. “Listen, Dean…”
”Jess, I like you, and I think you’re awesome and will have no problem whipping Sam into shape, but this isn’t one of those things that are going change just because you say my name and look at me like that.”
For a moment, Jess looks like she’s going to complain, but she just shakes her head and grins. “Mr. Mysterious, Tall, Dark and Sexy is here.”
Dean follows Jess’ line of sight easily, and sure enough, Castiel is already making his way towards the bar. “Great,” Dean mutters.
”What, you don’t want to spend all night flirting only to fail and have to go home and jerk off?” Jess asks innocently. “You could just tell him.”
”What the Hell am I supposed to tell him?” Dean asks, scowling.
”Cas, Dean wants to have sex with you,” Jess says.
Dean nearly jumps out of his skin, because suddenly Castiel is there, his fingers curling around Dean’s bicep in greeting. “Jess, you whore!”
”Hello, Jess,” Castiel says. He lets go of Dean’s arm to slide into the bar stool next to Dean. “How are you?”
Jess looks at Castiel suspiciously - either he had assumed she was joking, hadn’t heard her, or didn’t care - before she just shrugs. “You know. Work.”
”Which you should probably be doing,” Dean scowls.
”Boo, you whore,” Jess grins. She claps Dean’s back roughly, before standing up. “Nice to see you again, Cas. Dean.”
Dean waits for Jess to leave before he bangs his head on the bar. “My brother is marrying the Devil.”
”I thought you liked Jess,” Castiel says, frowning.
Glancing at Castiel out of the corners of his eyes, Dean smiles tiredly. “I do.”
”Then this is one of those… things…”
”For a shrink, you don’t really get people, do you?” Dean asks, laughing lightly.
”I have told you before, I am not that kind of psychologist,” Castiel replies warily. He gestures for Jo, but when she ducks her head to talk to Jess, Castiel simply sighs before stealing Dean’s glass.
Dean would complain, but Castiel’s lips are on the same spot of the glass Dean’s was, and for a moment he feels like he’s in the third grade again - giddy from his crush. “Could you be?”
”I do not know,” Castiel says. “I have all the degrees necessary. My interest in criminology is secondary to psychology itself...”
”No, I meant, could you? Like, hypothetically, listen to me bitch and moan and make me better?”
”That is not how the process works, Dean. Hypothetically, I could listen to you, yes, but you would not necessarily feel better. You would have to trust me with your fears.”
”Too chick flick, forget I asked.” Dean snags his glass back from Castiel and downs the last of the whiskey. He doesn’t miss the intensity of Castiel’s gaze, and he has to force himself to not react.
Castiel has been working with the city police department for five years and he has come to The Roadhouse every Thursday evening like clockwork. Dean’s been hitting on him since day one, and never has Castiel shown any inclination to respond or interest. Somewhere down the line, they became friends, and Dean actually really kind of likes that.
”But doesn’t the act of fornication imply trust in your partner?” Castiel asks slowly. He looks down at his hands, curling his fingers before spreading them flat on the bar. “You trust that they will not hurt you.”
”I guess.” Dean frowns. “I don’t understand - “
”You would fornicate with me, but you would not tell me the reason you are not getting any sleep lately?”
”Jess doesn’t know what the Hell she’s talking about,” Dean snaps, tensing up and glowering at his empty glass. “And I’m sleeping fine.”
Castiel quirks an eyebrow, a surprisingly human gesture considering Dean’s not entirely convinced Castiel isn’t an alien. “I see.”
Dean scowls harder.
- - -
”Jess wants me to tell you that you suck at life,” Sam announces. He’s reading from his cellphone as he strolls into the kitchen, a smirk on his face. “Apparently, you don’t appreciate her awesomeness at hooking people up.”
Dean debates banging his head against their wooden dining room table, but decides against it. He’d have to move his cereal out of the way and he doesn’t want to risk spilling any more milk. “Dude, her awesomeness consists of telling Cas I want to fuck him and then skipping away.”
”Jess doesn’t skip,” Sam says. “And I thought you did want to - to sleep with - Cas.”
”Dude, Cas isn’t like that,” Dean says, poking at his cereal despondently. “Besides, he thinks I have trust issues.”
”You do have trust issues.”
Dean just glowers.
”You know, I’d always figured there was something more to this,” Sam muses. He busies himself with making a bowl of cereal, only glancing at Dean occasionally. “I mean, five years of you hitting on him? And now you’re saying you don’t just want a one night stand?”
”I don’t like where your train of thought is heading...”
”It’s okay if you’re in love with him, Dean.”
”Fuck my life,” Dean groans. This time, he does shove his bowl out of the way so that he can bang his head on the table.
”No, seriously, this makes perfect sense,” Sam says. He stops making breakfast in favor of giving Dean a determined look. “This is almost healthy. It explains why you haven’t had a serious relationship in years.”
”Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up…” Dean groans.
”I need to tell Jess.” Sam ignores Dean’s protests in favor of pulling his phone back out, fingers skimming over the keyboard quickly. “She’ll know what to do.”
”I hate you so much,” Dean groans.
”You know,” Sam says slowly, glancing at Dean again. “You never said you weren’t in love with him.”
Dean opens his mouth to bitch, but he realizes Sam has a point. Well, fuck.
- - -
Dean manages to pass out and sleeps for almost twenty four hours straight, nightmare free. He’s not sure if Sam spiked the milk - which he wouldn’t entirely put past his brother at this point - but for the first time in a long time he feels like maybe he can be okay again.
He doubts the nightmares are gone for good, but when he stops by the fire station for his shift next, he doesn’t get banished to a bed and told to nap it off. Bobby just gives him a once over before sending him away to help wash one of the fire engines.
- - -
”You’re in a good mood,” Jo says when Dean slides up to sit at the bar. “Did you finally get laid?”
”I finally got sleep,” Dean counters, then pauses. “Hey, Cas.”
Castiel glances up from the notes sprawled in front of him and smiles at Dean. “Hello.”
”Does this mean Sam finally convinced you to see a shrink?” Jo asks, leaning forward on her elbows. “Or was it Bobby? My mom?”
”Does it matter?” Dean asks. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
Jo makes a face, sticking out her tongue out at Dean. She glances at Castiel, then back at Dean, and wiggles her eyebrows before she slides down the bar and away from them.
Dean is going to kill Sam and Jess.
”You passed out,” Castiel says. It’s not a question, and that gives Dean pause. “You are not really sleeping.”
”I guess that depends on how you define sleeping,” Dean says. He reaches over to steal Castiel’s glass, and Castiel lets him. It burns his throat, but in a way that isn’t going to give him issues with smoke inhalation and nightmares for weeks on end.
”Dean...”
”So there are two things I should probably tell you,” Dean says, cutting him off. “Well, I actually don’t have to tell you either, but I think I can. It would get Sam off of my back.”
”Does this have to do with Jess’ desire for us to copulate?” Castiel asks. He reaches for his glass back, but Dean doesn’t let go. His fingers sit heavy and warm on Dean’s own, and he doesn’t pull away. “Or with the fire?”
Dean stares at the glass, at where their fingers are touching. “Let me ask you something first, before I answer that.”
”Go ahead.”
”We’re friends, right?” Dean asks. He waits until Castiel nods, before he licks his lips and continues. “I’ve been hitting on you for years. Are you really that thick, or what?”
”I am not entirely sure what you’re trying to ask,” Castiel says, frowning.
”Do you want to sleep with me or not?”
”Oh.”
Dean frowns. “Just oh?”
”It is complicated,” Castiel says, sighing heavily. He removes his fingers Dean’s, settling for hooking a finger over the rim of the glass and tugging it towards him.
Dean watches the glass slide across the bar, watches the way Castiel’s throat moves as he swallows. “You care to elaborate?”
”The night we met, when you slipped away to answer your phone,” Castiel starts, then pauses. “Jo, I believe, had just been turned down by you. She told me that you simply wanted to fornicate and then would be done with me.”
”That bitch,” Dean mutters. He scowls down the length of the bar at Jo, but her back is towards him.
”I must admit I liked your attentions more than I should have,” Castiel continues. “When you continued to flirt, even when I continued to turn you down…”
”You didn’t want me to stop.”
Castiel seems startled Dean has caught on, but he nods his head. “Yes.”
”Sam thinks I may be in love with you,” Dean admits. He reaches for Castiel’s glass again, and isn’t surprised when Castiel lets him take it. Dean wonders when drink sharing became okay between them.
”And what do you think?” Castiel asks. He tilts his head to the side, watching Dean carefully. It’s his work face, Dean has come to realize, and the one he uses when something just does not compute.
”Honestly?” Dean asks. He takes another sip from the glass before toying with it, sliding it from hand to hand. “I think it’s something I’d be okay with.”
Castiel smiles softly, dropping his gaze to the glass and Dean’s hands. “This is progress.”
”Can I tell you something else? Something in confidence.” The words are out of Dean’s lips before he can stop himself, and he barrels on the moment Castiel nods his head, confused. “About a month ago I was working, putting out a fire. There was this kid, Ben. He was trapped and I mean, I managed to get him out. But then my partner Gordon and I got in an argument about the quickest way out. Gordon went one way, and I went the other, but the building started to collapse around me. I ended up getting stuck.”
”This is what your nightmares have been about.” A statement, not a question. For some reason, Castiel’s certainty is reassuring.
”Sort of. A part of me blames Gordon, I think,” Dean muses, dropping his gaze to the glass in his hands. “Another part of me thought I was going to die. My mom died in a house fire when I was four. My dad died on the job a few years ago. I just thought...”
Castiel’s hand is warm when he touches Dean’s arm, and he curls his fingers around Dean’s bicep reassuringly. “You are good at what you do, Dean.”
”So was my father,” Dean sighs. “Look, I don’t even know, man. This feelings thing isn’t really my forte.”
Castiel squeezes Dean’s arm once, reassuringly, before he lets go. “You have made progress, Dean. This is a good thing.”
”I thought you weren’t that kind of shrink,” Dean says, smiling faintly.
”Maybe not,” Castiel muses, smiling softly. “But it is nice to know you trust me with your pain.”
”Does this mean you’ll trust me in your bed?” The words are strained, a forced joke, but Dean doesn’t care.
Castiel looks at Dean, eyeing him appraisingly, his eyes dark and a soft smirk on his face. “We shall see,” he says, before he takes his glass back from Dean and downs the last of it.
Dean can work with that.
- - -
When Dean manages to fall asleep, curled around Castiel, limbs entangled, he neither passes out nor dreams of fires. Instead, he’s buried in an impossibly soft bed with Castiel smiling above him, glorious white wings spreading from Castiel’s back.
Dean won’t mention it to Castiel when he asks why Dean is smiling happily the next morning, but Dean holds tightly to the memory for as long as he can.