Archive of Our Own ^beta

You can do it, Castiel cheers himself inwardly as he helps Nora to set up so-called Christmas ornaments in her Gas’N’Sip.

The beginning of December may not have been the right time for Castiel to decide to take a job... This thought hardly crosses his mind that Castiel shoves it away. He isn’t going to live all the years he has left to act as if the world doesn’t exist on December. It’s not sustainable. It’s not because he had allowed himself this whim twice that he should do it again.

Castiel swallows down his unease about the gaudy decorations, tries to stomp down on his scorn to hear Nora babbling about the ‘Christmas spirit’. People hate when you correct them.

You didn’t get out to convert other people to our– their beliefs. It’s only a job.

Millions upon millions of people work every day. Castiel can do it. He isn’t dumber or weaker than any of them. Maybe he lacks social skills, but it’s not that important.

He had learned to let go since he had met Dean.

Many things had changed in his life since they met. Dean keeps saying that meeting Castiel improved his life, but Castiel isn’t so sure: Dean had his life in order when they met. Someone would have ended up noticing what an exceptional human being he is.

However, Castiel is pretty sure that Dean is the only person on this planet to be able to accept him so wholeheartedly.

I need to be worthy of him.

Not that Castiel thinks that Dean will stop caring about him if he doesn’t do his best. That’s not in Dean’s character. He wouldn’t dump him, even if Castiel becomes a burden.

That’s the problem, actually.

“Cheer up, Cas,” Nora says way too cheerfully.

This is something that changed because of Dean, too. People started calling him Cas. Castiel doesn’t mind, even from people he doesn’t care about. The name always brings Dean to his mind. It’s nice to have something to remind him Dean even when they’re apart.

But in the same city.

This knowledge is comforting too.

Castiel and Nora complete the decoration. Soon, the customers flock.

Working is without a doubt the worst experience of Outside. Idleness isn’t accepted back Home. They are all expected to make efforts and entertainment is frowned upon, but working has a meaning. They gleaned they own food, built and fixed what they needed daily. It was easy to understand.

Unlike working Outside.

But I don’t regret it.

Much.

Castiel doesn’t regret being free... most of the time. Freedom isn’t really what he expected. He too often feels like he exchanged a cage for another.

Castiel tries. He really does.

But it’s so hard sometimes.

(All the time.)

“Hey, Cas. Look who is here for you!” Nora crows teasingly an eternity later.

Castiel turns around, smiling in expectation. It’s Dean, obviously—the very best part of his days. Dean grins back at him, something wide and geniune and meant for him. It hits Castiel square on his heart every time. He doesn’t understand how he can make this expression appear on Dean’s face.

“Hi, handsome.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Color appears on Dean’s cheeks. Castiel isn’t good at all those games of flirtation that Dean likes, but his answers please him all the same.

“Don’t forget your job,” says Nora.

“I won’t,” Castiel sighs. “I’m almost done,” he adds for Dean.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Dean wanders next to the checkout, pawing at the magazines, looking one, dropping another, fiddling with sweets. Castiel forces himself to not stare at him. Knowing Dean is close should be enough.

“Hi there,” a male voice says.

Castiel glances in the direction of the voice and stiffens. A man is leaning towards Dean, smirling flirtariously. Dean stares back at him, utterly unimpressed. He points a finger at Castiel.

“My boyfriend is there.”

The man eyes Castiel up and down and scoffs, “I going to believe that.”

Castiel crosses the distance between them in three great strides and grabs Dean’s wrist before his fist connects with the man’s face. The man blanches, mutters a ‘psycho’ and flees from the Gas’N’Sip.

Castiel holds back a sigh.

“...Sorry?”

He lifts Dean’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss on it. Dean’s hand relaxes in his grip.

“Try to not get into trouble.”

Dean nods. Castiel lets go of his hand and walks to the checkout. It’s almost time to close the Gas’N’Sip.

“This is not good,” Nora comments.

“Dean is protective, that’s all.”

“He was going to hit that man.”

And that man would have it coming.

Nora is frowning. Something Castiel had learned about Outside is how quickly opinions are formed and how strong they are even if they aren’t truthbased.

“It’s the third time this week that someone says we’re a bad match.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“It is,” Castiel sighs.

People love to call Castiel blunt, but he doesn’t comment on their private life unprompted, what people love to do about him—and Dean, and the both of them. According to them, Castiel would be beyond fifty and Dean isn’t of age yet. It’s so ridiculous...

On the other hand, this ridicule is good: you can’t possibly take their remarks seriously.

Nora looks towards Dean who’s looking at the sweets again.

“Choose something there and give it to him.”

“Thanks.”

Castiel joins Dean. He surveys the shelves quickly, grabs a pack of licorice and shoves it into his hands, informing him that Nora is giving it to him. Dean waves at her, grinning. Castiel stows his vest in the storage room. When he comes back, Dean is chewing on his licorice.

“You really like that?”

“It’s good.”

“You know it comes from a plant?”

“Like ketchup!”

Dean shoves the remaining licorice in his mouth, munching obnoxiously. He’s very strange, sometimes.

Castiel nods a goodbye to Nora. He puts his hand in the small of Dean’s back and leads him outside. Dean’s shoulders curl forward as soon as they’re on the parking lot, out of sight from within the Gas’N’Sip. Castiel feels less uneasy too.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers.

“For what?”

“The customer.”

“He had it coming.”

“Chicago is great, but it’s not a reason.”

“The city?” Castiel asks, puzzled.

“The movie. I’ll make you watch it.”

Castiel nods slowly. It’s often about movies, with Dean.

“Your week had been difficult,” Castiel says. “I believe it’s a good reason.”

“Cas...”

Castiel stops, encouraging Dean to stop too. He holds Dean’s hand tighter, his heart shattering at the uncertainty written across his features. Dean holds his gaze for some more second before dropping his eyes, his mouth curling down in shame. Castiel’s heart breaks a little more.

Dean is fragile and strong and precious and Castiel doesn’t understand how the world could have been allowed to hurt him so much that Dean hardly notices it anymore. Castiel doesn’t understand either how someone like him could have met him and how their lives got intertwined and, worst of all, how he’s supposed to be worthy of him..

Dean’s expression morphes into worry. “You’re fine?”

I should be the one asking that.

“That thing with Bobby, Ellen and Jo...”

Dean winces. “It could have been worse.”

“It could have been better,” counters Castiel.

Bobby and Ellen should have finally understood what Dean went through, but it’d have meant accepting and facing their own responsibility... Castiel supposes it’s too much to ask from some people.

But their lack of care and understanding hadn’t been the worst, that day.

The worst had been Castiel. He hadn’t offered Dean any help and Dean had to support him, taking care of him, and driving him back home and tucking him like a kid, while he was on edge, confronted once again about people refusing to see who he really is.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Failing you like everyone else in your life.

“I tried to make things better but I made them worse.”

Dean frowns, puzzling over his—yet clear—words.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t control other people’s thoughts or actions.”

But I can control myself.

Dean’s mouth eases into a smile. “Did I thank you for Thanksgiving?”

“For what?”

“Hammering in their heads it wasn’t easy for me, with John. Well, Sam probably forgot it, and Bobby... You know how he reacted. But it helped, even if they’re going to pretend that it never happened.”

“It only lasted an evening.”

“It’s more than what I managed.”

Castiel swallows back his other protests, though the consequences had been dire: it led Dean to argue with Bobby and get ambushed at the Roadhouse, in the week following Sam’s dubious accusations.

Castiel had boasted about being important for Dean. He gave himself the right to meddle in his business and decided—on his own—to be his protector.

He isn’t so sure anymore he’s worthy of any of that. The incident at the Roadhouse haunts him, making him wonder if he hadn’t caused more problems for Dean than he has solved.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Dean queries.

“Everything is fine.”

Dean studies him a little closer. He intertwines his fingers with his.

“How about we go to the cinema?”

They pick up take out on their way back home.

Castiel likes better what Dean cooks, but it’s nice to vary meals from time to time. And cooking demands important amount of time. Not always as much as the Thanksgiving meal did—how Dean could stand to linger hours in the kitchen, Castiel does not know—but always more than Castiel is ready to waste.

He doesn’t mind, as long as he can spend time with Dean.

They eat their dinner on the couch. Castiel’s mood gets even more balanced than when Dean came to his job. Going out is nice and Castiel wouldn’t want to give it up—LARPing, theaters and restaurants have all their own charm—but nothing can compare to the moments they spend together, in their bubble. Castiel loves to know that this feeling is mutual. For some reason, Dean feared that his ‘indoor cat’ attitude, as he worded it, would bother him... Something to do with what the world expects from him because of his age.

Isn’t it annoying how the world pulls Dean in two different directions—a responsible parent and a carefree young adult—and expects him to be both?

Dean’s bubbling joy settles as the evening goes by. He stares at Castiel more and more often, looking more and more thoughtful. He shuffles closer to him and bumps his knees with his. Castiel wonders if Dean is aware of all the ways his body express itself or if it’s so natural that it escapes his notice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, Cas. Not to me.” Dean leans closer to him. Castiel regrets it’s so late in the evening and they’re surrounded by artificial light. He loves Dean’s eyes and their changing color, but he’d like to see their bright green in this very moment. “I promise to not tell another soul.”

Dean’s right hand starts a movement towards him and lands back on his own knee. Castiel answers his silent demand and takes his hand. A smile softens Dean’s expression.

“I have a hard time with my job.”

“I bet! You didn’t chose something easy.”

“Indeed.”

Castiel understands more with every passing minute why Nora is always short-staffed. No one in their right mind would work there.

But, every time this thought crosses his mind, Castiel tells himself it’s a tantrum. He may criticize his former home, he had never lacked nothing. He and his brethern didn’t have to take it upon themselves as much as most of the people living Outside. He was privileged in many ways. He kept being so even after leaving, living however he wanted, without having to worry over material issues.

Isn’t it the behavior of a careless child? Shouldn’t he have fixed it long ago?

He’d regret all of it if his first impulses didn’t led him to walk in this Sioux Falls library and to meet Dean. Maybe Dean’s life would be better if he had never entered it, but the reverse isn’t true.

Dean waits. Cocks his head to the side. “So?”

“So what?”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“What I should do?”

“Give up.”

“Dean.”

“What? You can.”

And that’s a part of the problem.

“I should start thinking about my future and not count on their money anymore.”

“Squirreling for bad weather,” Dean nods. Castiel’s stomach sinks in guilt. The closest he got to understand ‘bad weather’ was in listening to Dean’s childhood stories. Dean grins. “You don’t have to worry, though! I’m here. Come to worst, you’ll move in with me. We’ll have to live on top of each other, but it’s better than on the streets.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You’re wording it as if it’s a downside.”

Dean laughs and Castiel feels some of his tension ebbs out of him. It’s the most beautiful sound of the world, and it sounds even better when it rings thanks to him. Like playing an instrument. Well... Castiel thinks so. He had never played any kind of music.

“It looks like you’re finding the situation amusing.”

“It is funny. You’d be my sugar baby in a trenchcoat. No one’d have seen that coming.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“But you looooove me. I mean... Who can blame you? I’m so really cuuuute.”

For good mesure, Dean bats his eyelashes. Castiel’s mouth twitches. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face and traces his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean’s face shifts to wonder. He closes the distance between them and kisses Castiel. There’s something so gentle and careful about him that Castiel sometimes feels like it could break the both of them.

“Why you bother with that job?” Dean murmurs against his mouth before trailing kisses on his cheek.

“I want– I need to prove I can manage without them. You know? Having a normal job, like a normal person, to pay my bills.”

Like Dean. Like Bobby. Like so many people Outside.

Why woud Castiel deserve more than any of them?

Dean sits back. Castiel clings to his hand to prevent him from going too far.

“You don’t have to prove anything more. You got free. You are right here! It’s enough, don’t you think?”

“It is.”

Usually. But now... Now things are different.

He can’t let go of Dean’s hand.

“If I were heritage boy, I’d have spent all the money and I’d only have my eyes to weep.”

“Liar.”

Dean is too sensible to act like that.

“’Kay. I’d have bought a place and spent all day long watching TV and eating.”

This is more believable.

“Having my own place...” Dean sighs wistfully.

“You have your apartment.”

“Sure. But it’s not really mine, ya know? The landlord can kick me out whenever he wants.”

Castiel tenses. Dean brushes his hand with his thumb.

“It’s okay, soldier. Calm down. It’s not gonna happen. It’s just that it could and I think about it sometimes.”

Dean is right. It could happen.

There are so many inequities Outside.

Castiel ignores his longing. He misses his former home too often to his taste. He chose to free himself from it. He’s choosing every day to not return there.

(Maybe his motives aren’t pure. Maybe Castiel hates the idea of showing them he had been wrong and having to grovel to them... and maybe he can’t picture himself to live in a world where Dean wouldn’t belong.)

But Castiel can’t pretend that some things aren’t fairer there than they are Outside.

Dean lifts himself from the couch, without letting go of his hand.

“You’re coming?”

But it’s Outside that Castiel met Dean.

“Of course.”

They go in their room. Castiel can’t help but think of it as their room, though Dean and he aren’t really living together. He loves that Dean is within reach while he prays and that he waits patiently despite not sharing his faith. Castiel loves even more when Dean falls asleep next to him, with all his defenses down, because he trusts him and believes in his bones he can be vulnerable around him.

It’s mutual. Castiel had never slept as deeply than those nights he shares with Dean, with their limbs tangled together. He feels safe, with him. Loved, as he never thought someone could be loved.

I should be supporting him, Castiel thinks as he succombs to sleep, the comforting warmth and smell of Dean all over him.

Dean eyes him while making their breakfast the next morning. Castiel lets him command the kitchen, not only because Dean is a better cook than him: Castiel had realized that Dean loves to cook. And to feed him.

Well, not only him. Dean loves to cook for the people he cares about. Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if Dean decided to work in a restaurant one day, despite how much he loves working at the library. Castiel would support him... even if he’d be disappointed: he wouldn’t be one of the lucky few to enjoy Dean’s cooking anymore.

He’s too greedy.

“What if you enrolled to college?” Dean asks, dividing the bacon between the two of them.

“What?”

“You love to learn things and it’s almost seen as a job.”

“But... and Sam?”

“What about Sam?”

Castiel chooses honesty. It has always worked with Dean until now... he doesn’t mind some parts of him like the people of Outside do.

“I wouldn’t last a day among people looking down at me and spending their time lecturing me.”

Dean utters an amused sound.

“It sounds like Hell,” he acquiesces, grinning. “I’m sure not all students are like him... I mean... It’d be obvious, wouldn’t it?”

Probably.

“What about the professors?”

“I’m not telling you to go to Stanford or anywhere like this. You could choose a community college. You know? Some normal place for normal people.”

Castiel startles, not used of being seen as normal.

“I’d have to interact with strangers, like at the Gas’N’Sip.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good thing,” Castiel adds. “It’s one of the reasons I answered Nora’s ad.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks hopefully.

Castiel nods curtly.

Dean stares at him with big curious eyes, waiting for more of an answer.

“I’ll think about it,” Castiel provides.

Dean grins before offering his whole focus to the bacon. They clean off their plate in silence. Castiel goes back in the kitchen to take care of the dishes, Dean on his heels.

“I wanted to convince you to volunteer at the library at first...” Dean muses, glancing at him as if the question remains. Castiel smiles and shakes his head. Dean sighs, “I saw that coming. It’s not been a year and you’re already tired of me.”

Castiel wipes the pan and stores it, before walking to Dean and pressing kiss on his forehead. Dean leans into it.

“I don’t want to rely on you all the time.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Things are too easy with you. You’re going to give me bad habits.”

Dean scoffs. “That’s nonsense.”

If only, Castiel sighs inwardly.

It’d be more fair to Dean.

Panic closes around his heart.

I’m leaning onto him, like everyone else in his life.

He saw how Dean suffers from it, and here he is, adding another responsibility on his life. Castiel would be pleased to blame his background, but his family never taught him to rely on someone else. They actually taught him to be emotionally independent. The way he clings to Dean is a personal weakness.

If Castiel was better, stronger, he’d let Dean go, even if Dean seems to want to keep him around. Castiel listened what Dean said about his father, John. He listened about Sam, saw Bobby, Ellen and Jo. And Dean? Dean loves all of them. He won’t forsake any of them from his life though it may be for the best: a fresh start, finally freed from his chains.

A question takes shape inside his mind.

“Shit! I’m gonna be late,” Dean blurts, jerking him out of his thoughts.

Dean dashes for the door and skids to an halt. For a second, Castiel worries he’s going to stumble and run into the door but Dean manages to swirl around and come back to him. He kisses him. Castiel melts into it. He cannot not feel how much Dean cares about him when he touches him. He’ll never get used to their closeness and to how much love all those tiny touches contain.

Dean breaks their kiss and stares at him, his eyes shining, his cheeks flushed. He’s so beautiful it’s shattering Castiel into pieces.

“See you tomorrow?”

Castiel nods, folding the question back in a tiny corner of his mind. He’d hate to ruin this.

Dean’s smile grows into a grin that lights up the whole room, even as he turns his back to him and retraces his steps to the door.

In that kind of moment, Castiel thinks he isn’t so bad for him.

Unfortunately, it never lasts.

Dean’s idea is good. Castiel will follow it... at the next semester. The time to do research, enroll and do the whole ‘she-bang’. He refuses to end up in a college gathering people like Sam Winchester. Dean trying to punch that customer is nothing next to what Castiel would do, in those circumstances. Castiel knows himself. He isn’t as gentle or patient as Dean.

Meanwhile, Castiel won’t fall off the wagon again. The money he got from them—or stole or whatever—is stored safely and he won’t use it in a while.

So Castiel works one more day at the Gas’N’Sip. He forces himself to fulfill irrelevant tasks, to not be too rude to customers who’d deserve some punches and to move in an universe that insults the holy time of Christmas.

(Castiel can’t keep himself from praying but he really tries to overcome the rest. Despising people because they aren’t celebrating Christmas the right way is beneath him. Being free implies being confronted to different opinions. Castiel can’t brag about being free if he tries to tie his chains around someone else.)

(He doesn’t feel free, lately.)

The day is endless. Breaking for lunch and not having the time to meet Dean at their diner makes Castiel wonder why he’s bothering with all that. The few texts he gets from Dean comfort him, but they can’t replace his real presence: how Dean’s thoughts are betrayed by countless little expressions, how his eyes are always changing color, how his voice sounds, all the casual ways he finds to touch him... Yes. Castiel is imposing himself a cross to bear and he isn’t sure it’s worth it.

At least, every passing second brings him closer to the evening and to see Dean again.

In the middle of the afternoon, Castiel suddenly remembers that he won’t meet Dean tonight. It doesn’t happen often, but Dean seems to fear they’re going to bore of each other if they spend all their free time together. Castiel doesn’t... most of the time.

Castiel is out of spoons when he finally walks out of the Gas’N’Sip. He climbs into his car and has to turn around about ten minutes later when he notices he’s heading for Dean’s place.

Dean would welcome him with open arms if Castiel shows up at his door.

All the more reason not to.

Castiel returns to his apartment. He doesn’t like how it sounds without Dean bustling around. He finds a lunchbox in the fridge, with his name written across it, and smiles. He doesn’t have it in himself to feel guilty as he eats its content, too comforted by this attention from Dean.

Dean shouldn’t have to cook for me.

Sure, Dean loves to cook, but he deserves free time.

Castiel’s mood sinks back. He sure relies on Dean for someone who is pretending otherwise. He isn’t better than any of the others. Dean will let him get away with everything. He’s so used of having to do everything alone that he can add a weight on his shoulders before smiling and saying everything is fine.

Why would Dean say so when no one cares about the truth?

But I care.

Castiel tries to watch TV but he’s too tired to focus. He checks his phone but Dean doesn’t send any text. He strains his ears to every motor noise, every slamming door, every footstep in the stairs. But Dean doesn’t show up.

Castiel tells himself it’s a good thing. He checks the hour and realizes that Dean must be home for minutes. Maybe he’s already sleeping.

Castiel misses him with a renewed ache.

Castiel heaves himself from the couch and gets ready for bed. He pauses on the threshold of his room. It feels foreign without Dean lying on the bed, watching him.

Castiel kneels next to his bed, feeling so vulnerable that it twists his belly. Could he be relying that much on Dean?

He joins his hands and closes his eyes, awfully aware of his breathing. He doesn’t feel peaceful enough to pray...

Castiel tenses his shoulders and shuts his eyelids tighter.

Please, God. Since You sent me to him, prevent me to become like all the other people of his life. Prevent me to take him as granted and to turn a blind eye to his pain. Amen.

Castiel unfolds himself and lies on his bed. It feels too big. The blankets are too cold. He hears nothing but his breath, his heartbeat and noises in the rest of the building. There isn’t another lulling breath in the room. Someone shifting in the bed. It’s... lonely.

Castiel can’t find it in himself to close his eyes. Thoughts, questions and doubts are too loud. He hadn’t realized how much they chained him until he met Dean and experienced how silent and peaceful his mind is around him. He’s a ‘no-brainer’. Like how Castiel used to feel when he prayed alone in churches.

But Dean isn’t here, in this dark, cold and silent night. The doubts are as strong as ever.

Have I been right to leave?

Getting used to Outside is so hard that Castiel finds himself thinking he’d be better back Home. He knows it’s only wishful thinking, though. He remembers how miserable his life used to be. He hadn’t experienced a real tragedy, like Dean, Bobby or Alex. He hadn’t lost a person he loved, never had responsibilities too heavy for his age. He had never known hunger or cold or anything.

Wording it this way makes Castiel feels like an impostor. Worst, like an ingrate. A greedy one, who always wants more. Creature comfort and the lack of tragedy hadn’t been enough. His horizons felt too little. He had ended up wondering about Outside and dreaming to be free. He had ended up leaving.

Castiel can’t help but dread if his natural greedyness will rise again and make sure that, one day, Dean wouldn’t be enough anymore. What if he abandoned him without so much as a glance back?

He loathes this version of him who is surely lurking in his mind to ruin everything.

He hates the way these thoughts are haunting him in the dark and the silence.

I need a sign, he thinks.

Castiel sits up.

“I know that I’m asking too much... but I need a sign. Give me a sign.”

Castiel isn’t sure he’s on the right path. He wants to be the best version of him, if only for Dean. He’s... something new and marvelous. All the people Outside are complicated, following codes that Castiel doesn’t understand—and being angry that he doesn’t understand—, and Dean is complicated, too, but everything is easy with him. He accepts Castiel as he is and he doesn’t mind explaining what Castiel doesn’t get.

“You see everything. You know how much he suffered.”

Dean had supported his family on his own his whole life and is fighting to break free from the responsibilities that had been dumped on him. Castiel listens, when Dean tells him how much he worries over Sam—his brother doesn’t seem to want to let go of their old dynamics. Castiel sees it, on Dean’s face, when Bobby talks about Sam and the Winchesters’ childhood. Castiel heard it, the very morning, when Dean had all but given up on Sam and Bobby understanding what he went through.

“This is the reason You sent me to him, isn’t it?”

Castiel is meant to be Dean’s shelter, away from his responsibilities. He doesn’t see why else God would have made them meet.

“This is it, right?”

A sign... I only need a sign.

Castiel waits, his heart pounding unpleasantly, as if it’s trying to make up for the silence of Dean’s absence. No answer comes to him. Castiel winces, despising himself to have hoped otherwise. He knows this isn’t how faith works. It used to be enough.

His hands curl into fists. He should get rid of this habit. It’s tying him too tightly to his past, to them. How can he ever hope to get free if he doesn’t leave their lessons in the dust?

Dean doesn’t think my faith is wrong.

Castiel lies back on his bed and pulls the blankets back on him. The little warmth he gathered had already vanished. It’s never the case, when Dean is in the bed, with him. He’s all warm and pliant and comfortable.

Castiel wonders if Dean would find that romantic or if he’d be offended to be compared to a heating pad. It could be either, with Dean.

If could be both.

A smile floats over his lips.

Seeing Dean almost twenty-four hours later feels like a gentle rain after crossing a desert. Castiel hugs him as tightly as he can. He clings to him.

Dean makes a surprised sound but he doesn’t ask him to let him go. He doesn’t try to free himself. He melts against him and loops his arms around his waist.

The noises in Castiel’s mind stop. There’s only one worry left, and it feels so tiny next to Dean’s warm, physical shape.

“We sleep at your place tonight?” Castiel asks.

Dean nods in the crook of his neck.

Dean often mocks his apartment—it’s smaller than Castiel’s and the building is quite old—but he’s proud of it, too. It shines in his grin and his sparkling eyes, in the way he holds himself in pure contentment whenever he’s inside it. So Castiel loves his apartment, as he loves Baby, or the movies and the musics Dean introduces him to. Castiel doesn’t enjoy all those musics and movies by himself, but he likes what they teach him about Dean.

Dean cooks them tortillas overflowing with sauce and meat. Castiel studies the process, earning a laugh from Dean.

“You can’t take five minutes to cook something, but you’re patient enough to watch me cook for more than twenty minutes?”

“It’s different. You’re fascinant.”

Dean laughs again, but a blush creeps on his face and he focuses back on his preparations. There’s still sparkles in his eyes and a smile pulling at his mouth. Castiel can’t take his eyes off him.

“You could try hobbies, if college ends up not being your thing.”

“How so?”

“You never tried anything for fun, did you?”

“Movies–”

“I make you watch them. It doesn’t count... much,” Dean adds, winking at him. “All you’re doing since you got free is to learn more about this world, and you never did anything for yourself before... Except a couple of shenanigans. It’s time to do some things for yourself.”

“How it’d be useful?”

“It’d make you happy.”

Dean finishes to set up the tortillas and slides them in two plates on the kitchen table. Castiel settles next to him. Dean is right about his place, they’re kinda sitting on each other. Dean has hardly bothered to furnish his living room, as if their two apartments were one.

The thought squeezes Castiel’s heart. If only...

“I’m going to think about it.”

“I hope you’ll find a nice hobby.”

“Like you with drawing.”

“You got me! Plus, you don’t have to be good at your hobby. It’s all good.”

“Your drawings are beautiful.”

“You think my handwriting is beautiful,” Dean scoffs. “You could be in love, or have a terrible taste. Maybe both.”

“Your handwriting is beautiful!” Castiel retorts, offended.

“Says the guy whose every note looks like calligraphy.”

Castiel frowns. “Is that a compliment?”

“Obviously.”

A smile tugs at his mouth.

“I still love your handwriting.”

“Because you’re a weirdo.”

They share their meal and small talk about their days. Castiel savors every bite of his tortillas. The food is so much better when Dean is the one cooking it.

“Did it go well with Bobby, yesterday?”

Dean smiles a sad smile. “Everything’s back to former settings.”

Castiel reaches out to hold his hand. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort him. He knows that, in spite of his words, Dean was hoping for more. This is why he had asked to meet with Bobby alone, like he did the week before.

A single evening.

It’s nothing. Dean had carried the world on his shoulders for twenty years, without help. Why can’t they give more to him?

“We talked about Christmas. Sam will be here. Bobby and Ellen decided to plan something together. Ellen also wants to do something at the Roadhouse, for her patrons. Bobby quite insisted on this. I think he intends to drag us there.”

“I see.”

Castiel’s free hand curls into a fist. He wants to do something, but he doesn’t know what. Some of the sadness etched on Dean’s face is his fault, because he made things worse.

Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t do anything.

“I see,” he repeats quickly.

The following silence feels heavy.

“I’m tired,” Dean says. “You’d mind going to sleep?”

“Never.”

Dean’s mood falls down another notch in the following days.

Castiel wonders if the season is getting him, too. He knows why Dean loves Hallowed and why he feels so fragile the first days November. He also knows about April. He can’t recall Dean talking about his memories being tied to Christmas or the New-Year, though. He should have asked before the holiday season starts looming over them.

Unless Dean is uneasy at the prospect of reuniting with the people of his past—the same who didn’t care about his suffering.

Castiel doesn’t pry right away. Dean’s mood keeps swinging. To be more precise, he’s happy one moment, then his mood suddenly dives for a couple of minutes, betrayed by his eyes darkening or him worrying as his lips, before rising again. Dean needs time and space to untangles his emotions, so Castiel waits.

When it doesn’t get better and Dean doesn’t take the plunge, Castiel decides to take the first step—on Saturday’s morning, when they’re curled up in their bed, back in his apartment. Dean is plastered at his side, an arm thrown casually across him. Castiel strokes it tenderly, feeling more relaxed than he should be.

“Something’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Dean.”

Dean props himself on his elbow to look at him. There are worried lines all over his forehead. He starts worrying at his bottom lip.

“You do not look fine.”

Dean drops his eyes.

“I... Would you... would you like to have kids, one day?”

“I never thought about it.”

Dean hits his head down on the pillow. A groan echoes in his throat. “For someone who has been raised in a cult, you sure didn’t think about some things.”

Castiel turns his face to look at him.

“This is one of the things you like about me,” he reminds Dean.

He can’t help but smile, remembering Dean laughing and telling him he’s awesome to not have fitted the mold. It’s been the first time it sounded like a compliment. The words are still warming up Castiel’s heart.

It looks like the memory is as fond for Dean, because a smile curls the corners of his mouth. He drags his hand to Castiel’s stomach. Castiel catches his hand and laces their fingers together. Dean rolls on his flank to watch at their tied hands.

“What about you?” Castiel asks.

Dean exhales a sad sigh “Sometimes, I see a kid and I think it wouldn’t be bad, one day. But then I remember. I don’t– I don’t think I can do it again. Not now, not even in ten years. It was too much. I know I’ll think about it again if I ever have to take care of another kid. I didn’t stand the last months, for Sam. I’d never be able to stand it for years.”

Castiel pulls Dean closer, hiding their hands between them. Dean hides his face under his chin, curling himself smaller.

“I can’t,” Dean whispers. “Kids are nice... as long as they aren’t my responsibility. I can’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is apologizing, but it’s best to take the first thing first, in order to reconstruct the story and understand everything.

“Why did you think about it?”

“People’s jokes. They keep talking about us having kids. It was fine, at first. I could even joke about it. But they’re saying so often it doesn’t sound like a joke anymore. It’s like an obligation, for the future. So I wondered if it was something you’d want.”

Dean’s shoulders strain in a hard line. Castiel follow the curve gently, smoothing his unease away. Dean relaxes under his ministrations.

“It’s a dealbreaker, for couples,” Dean adds in a whisper. “I’d understand if I’m not relationship material for you anymore.”

Castiel’s hand stops.

“You think I’m going to break up with you over that.”

“It’s important. I know we’re a young couple and it’s not the right time to talk about it but–”

“I don’t have a preference either way,” Castiel interrupts him. Dean moves back, his eyes snapping up to his face. “I haven’t imagined myself in a relationship until I met you, and I haven’t pictured myself start a family. I want to be with you. It’s all that matters to me.”

“You can’t mean that,” Dean breathes, his eyes begging otherwise.

“I do.”

Dean blinks quickly. He doesn’t dare to say anything else, as if Castiel would change his mind if he uttered another sound. When they’re alone and Dean can let go of every wall he keeps around him to protect himself, Castiel knows that caring for their relationship isn’t selfish. Dean needs him too.

“Besides, with the way I’ve been raised, I’m not sure I would know how to handle kids.”

A laugh is startled out of Dean. He snuggles closer to him, resting his head on his collarbone.

“We’re pieces of work, huh?”

“We’re doing the best with the cards that were handed to us.”

“Awwww. Look who’s optimist, now.”

A smile tugs at Castiel’s mouth. He smiles so much since Dean is into his life.

“This is easy, with you at my side.”

Dean buries his face against his chest.

“’S not fair. I can’t say that kind of stuff. It’d make me look dumb.”

Castiel moves his free hand to his hair and pets his neck. Dean manages to shuffle closer to him, curling a hand against his stomach and crooking a leg over his.

This is how it’s meant to be, him supporting Dean, Dean relying on him.

“Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Warn me if you ever change your mind.”

“Dean.”

“Please, Cas. I just... want to have time to get used to the idea of you dumping me.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“You are,” Castiel points out.

“Because it’s not out-of-the-blue. I thought about it and I’m sure.” Dean sounds a little sad about it. “You just started wondering. You don’t have to choose in a split-second for your whole life. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“Cas...”

Dean shifts, as if he wants to sit up, but Castiel keeps his arms around him. Dean pauses, weighting the pros and the cons, before lying back on him.

“You’ll be the first to know in the unlikely event that I change my mind.”

“Even if it’s a tiny doubt whispering in your ear?”

“Even if it’s a tiny doubt whispering in your ear,” Castiel repeats, not bothering to hide the annoyance out of his voice.

Dean relaxes, seemingly melting against him. There’s something so soft about it that Castiel mellows in spite of himself. Dean is the only one who brings out that part of himself and Castiel has a hard time getting used to it. Dean would probably say it’s not easy to discover something new about oneself. He’s understanding like that.

“I don’t even care about kids,” Castiel muses outloud.

“What?” Dean asks, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

“I don’t see the point. I never understood why people caw about babies—they did so back at home.” And Castiel has been rather distressed to discover it was a common point with Outside. “Children are tiny human beings. Why would I care personally about someone I don’t know? Why would I want to share my home with a stranger and give them everything?”

“What?” Dean repeats, trying to heave himself up.

“You have to admit it’s quite strange. How can someone have so many right and why the society has so many duties towards you only because of your age?”

Dean wriggles a little more so Castiel lets go of him. Dean leans over him to study his face.

“You’re serious.”

“Obviously.”

“You thought about kids before?”

“Not about having kids, but I remember asking my mother why we have to bother with kids and why God didn’t only create brand-new adults after the death of over humans. It felt logical, to save time. We talked a little more and she called an exorcist because only the Devil could have whispered to my ear such a lack of concern for infants...”

Dean’s face crumbles. Castiel remembers this time he told Dean about being locked up. Panic swells inside his chest.
 
“Please, don’t start crying. I swear it wasn’t bad. The pastor only said a couple of prayers and threw holy water on me.”

“Not bad?”

“I wasn’t possessed. Holy water and prayers couldn’t have harmed me. I was only trying to say that my lack of questioning about my personal future may come from a lack of interest for children and building a family.” Castiel muses over it. “Neither prayers nor holy water made me care for children.”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Castiel taps Dean’s cheek.

“It’s like not having thought about romance until I met you.”

“Cas.”

“If you had wanted children, I wouldn’t have minded. I’d have allowed you to adopt one or several.”

“Kids aren’t pets.”

“I... never said they are?”

Dean stares at him a bit more before a fond smile blooms on his face. He leans forward to press a kiss on his mouth.

“You’re not going to dump me to start a family.”

“I’ve been telling you so for a dozen of minutes.”

Dean makes a joyous sound and cuddles back against him. Castiel is utterly lost. Why is Dean finally believing him?

“Extra credit for our couple.”

Dean buries his nose right under his chin, his hand curling lovingly over his chest.

“You’re a mystery, for me,” Castiel confesses.

Dean hums with satisfaction.

Monday is on them too quickly. Castiel understands why so many people hate that day. It seems to exist only to take you away from what you love and who matters to you. Being apart from Dean so randomlyafter having spent long hours by his side feels like a punishment. The problem—one of the problems—is how much it influences his mindset. Another proof he relies too much on Dean.

When Dean is around, Castiel worries a little about his own intentions, but he’s mostly confident.

But the rest of the time... when he’s alone—or surrounded by people who are not Dean—the doubts are strong enough to taint everything, going as far as corrupting in hindsight the moments he spent with Dean.

It’s exhausting.

Castiel feels exhausted.

Seeing green and red wherever his eyes land, too bright colors, too many lights... Misrepresented angels, stars fallen from the sky, saints who aren’t suffering... All those pagan personifications under the pretense of faith... None of this helps.

This is Outside, he tries to tell himself. This is what I asked for. I have to accept it.

Castiel knows that the season is getting at him. Everything he manages to keep under the rug during the other months—his education, his family and, most of all, the faith from which he cannot free himself—is coming back to him. The weakest part of Castiel is longing for Dean’s support, but he shuts himself up. He can bear it on his own. He’ll get over it. He did the two previous times. He only has to wait for two weeks. The holiday season will be forgotten right after the New Year. The Outside is always rushing forward.

Being patient isn’t Cas’ forte, but he can do it. It’s not even a month. Dean managed to take care of himself and two other people on his own for sixteen years, struggling with daily concerns without the single break. Castiel can hold on for a little month, with a lesser burden.

And maybe... Castiel should make more efforts to get free from his past.

It’s time to let go of his faith.

Knocks sound at his door. Castiel frowns at it. He isn’t expecting anyone—except Dean.

He heads for the door, dragging his feet. He doesn’t like to talk to strangers in a good day and December is everything but a good day.

He opens the door and freezes.

“Dean?”

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greets him, grinning and wriggling his shoulders.

He’s hiding his hands behind his back, probably why he didn’t use his keys.

Castiel steps back to let him in. Dean squirms to keep his torso facing him and his hands hidden. Castiel raises an eyebrow. He closes the door without uttering a comment.

“So...?”

“I’ve got a surprise! Close your eyes.”

Castiel complies. Dean’s hand touches his and maneuvers it until Castiel holds his hand raised, palm toward the ceiling. Castiel hears shuffling and something light, in plastic, lands in his palm.

“Open your eyes!”

Castiel does. The object of mystery is a transparent figure. It’s holding a horn that’s almost as big as it. Given the wings poking from its back, it’s supposed to be an angel. 

“You like it?”

Castiel doesn’t know what to say. He hates how angels are pictured in popculture and he’s pretty sure they talk about it. Maybe Dean forgot?

The idea weights like a rock on his stomach.

Dean picks up the figure and turns it around to comment it.

“You see? He doesn’t have a face or colors. He’s unfathomable for us. And he holds a horn to announce the Apocalypse.”

“It’s a trumpet of Revelation?”

“Probably not, but what they’re gonna do? Send hitmen to stop us from thinking that?”

Dean settles back the figure in Castiel’s hand. Castiel studies it. Dean is right. This angel doesn’t have a face, doesn’t show any gentleness or compassion. The shape is vaguely human, but there’s nothing specific. The angel is wearing a long robe, so he doesn’t have legs. And nothing points out the horn is used for happy news.

“All the others were cute with fluffy wings and smiling. I thought...”

When Castiel lifts his head, Dean is biting down on his lower lip.

“You remembered.”

“’f course.”

As Castiel looks back the angel, his heart leaps. It feels like a sign. He was willing himself to abandon his faith and, the very same day, Dean offers him something that echoes to it? Dean, who isn’t a believer, and yet who knows the names and attributions of God’s most obscure angels.

Believing in coincidences isn’t in Castiel’s nature.

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m glad this is my first gift.”

“Your first?!”

Castiel nods. “We only had useful objects, that we got when we needed them.”

“Fuck! I nearly bought a cupid holding a harp to annoy you!”

Dean is looking so utterly crestfallen that an amused sound escapes Castiel. The whole scene is so much like Dean, from the childlish prank hurting no one to his utter devastation at the prospect of upsetting him including this random kindness.

“It makes me very happy.”

Dean looks up to him. His eyes dance on his expression and, noticing his sincerity, he smiles shyly.

Castiel sets the angel in the middle of his table.

Castiel usually likes their evenings at Bobby’s. The man turned out to be nice after their rough start—which Castiel didn’t mind: it was mostly about Bobby watching out for Dean and God knows that Dean deserves more people worrying for him. He loves to talk with him about past civilizations and dead languages, and having Dean listening to them. Dean intervenir rarement, but he listens, soaking up new informations. Castiel has no doubts that Dean isn’t confused by their conversations and, given that Bobby doesn’t stop every now and them to throw clarifications at him, like he does for Castiel when he and Dean are talking about cars, Castiel knows he doesn’t doubt it either.

This evening isn’t as good as the others though. Castiel doesn’t know whether it’s because of his own mood or because of the lingering sadness he spots in Dean’s eyes more than once.

The conversation flows all the same and they share a good meal. Bobby brings up Christmas, and Sam and Ellen and Jo, and Dean’s sadness never fully goes away, but a deep affection shines over his expression, almost shadowing it. He answers lively, as if he’s looking forward to it.

Castiel isn’t sure what to think anymore. He hadn’t cared about anyone back Home in the same way Dean cares for his family—blood-related or not. Who he is to judge it?

Castiel is still thinking about it as they drive back to his apartment. A new worry drops on top of his old ones. Dean gave him Bobby, Ellen and Jo—and Sam. He gave him his friends—Charlie, Gilda and Tina—and good acquaintances—Mildred and Jody. Castiel is only bringing himself. His family...

It’s better not to think about it.

When Castiel opens the door to his apartment, he’s welcomed by emptiness. He owns all the furnitures he needs, of course, but he hadn’t bothered to turn this place into a home. It’s probably why he keeps thinking about where he comes from as Home. He hadn’t tried to replace it.

The angel figure catches his eyes and Castiel feels even more disheartened. Giving up a good resolution has been so easy... only because Castiel hadn’t wanted to stick with it. He’d have seen strange shapes through a window or turned on the TV and spotted anything remotely tied to his religion—in December, one week before Christmas—that he’d have decided they are signs God sent to prevent him to turn his back on his faith.

He’s so weak.

Dean shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on a chair. The apartment feels more homey only for this. Dean swirls around to face Castiel.

“Okay. Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You’ve been weird lately.”

Castiel frowns. “I’m always weird.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my weird dorky little guy.”

Castiel frowns further. He’s pretty sure Dean and he are about the same height, enoough for Dean to not be able to use the word ‘little’.

“You’re plain weird. Sketchy. Ya know? Not like usual.” Dean’s features soften in concern. “You don’t seem... comfortable anymore.”

Dean waits and Castiel’s defenses crumble. How could he resist when Dean is looking at him so openly?

“Don’t tell another soul.”

“Never,” Dean smiles before reaching out to hold his hand.

“I’m thinking about my family.”

“Of course you do. They’re family.”

“You really find this normal?”

“Of course! I think about my family, too. My mom, John, Sam... Sometimes I wonder why I’m not named Dean Millie Winchester.”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitches. This kind of detour is characteristic of Dean.

“It’d have been adorable.”

“Maybe. But I’m stuck with Dean no-second-name Winchester.” He shrugs. “Anyway, there’s nothing weird about thinking about your family.” He narrows his eyes and studies his features. “Why... are you thinking about them so much now?”

Dean, always with his on-the-mark questions.

“Christmas is almost there.”

Dean nods in understanding. “You used to celebrate it with them.”

Castiel is more touched than he should be by Dean’s words and the fact he cares enough to remember. That Dean cared enough to ask about it in the first place. The day after Thanksgiving, Dean had asked him all about the beliefs and celebrations of his childhood, and he had listened to Castiel’s explanations as if they were deeply interesting.

“Christmas makes the missing worse.”

Castiel gestures to the couch. Dean sits down and Castiel settles next to him.

“Every year since I left,” Castiel confesses. He had never been able to talk about his family until Dean and it’s the very first Christmas they’re living together. “O– Here, Christmas is different from the one I celebrated with my family, but hearing this word all the time... It makes me think about home. Things... were easier then. Sometimes, I miss it.”

Uttering those words outloud makes Castiel feel too vulnerable. Doubts, hopes and dreams are weapons that can be easily used against yourself. He had experienced it in more than one occasion. There’s only Dean, to handle everything he is with care.

“You’d like to go back there?”

Dean’s expression is carefully blank to allow him to choose freely but his voice is small and his hand clings to his. He needs me, Castiel realizes with relief. He wants me at his side.

Castiel pulls Dean into his arms.

“No.”

“Visiting them?”

“Once you leave, you can’t go back.”

Dean exhales a little sigh. Castiel would like to leave it at that. What is better than end on a victory? Except that ‘don’t tell another soul’ is a key and he can’t close the door now he had opened it. A question that has been haunting him for too long escapes his mouth.

“Don’t you despise me for having abandoned them?”

Dean stiffens and slides out of his embrace. Castiel grits his teeth, trying to hide how he’s falling apart. It was the answer he expected. He had seen on many occasions how Dean is with his family. How could Dean not despise him for having turned his back on his own family?

“What?”

“I understand. I abandoned them as soon as I could–”

Dean’s hand snatches forward and clutches Castiel’s.

“Why I’d despise you?”

“Family means so much for you, and I abandoned mine.”

“Yeah. You’ve been strong and determined enough to save yourself. I’m too weak to do so.”

“Caring isn’t the same as been weak.”

“Tell that to everyone who thinks of me as a doormat.”

Castiel stiffens. This is one of the reasons—an excuse, really—that keeps him around Dean. He does think about Dean differently than everyone in Dean’s life. He tries to see the real Dean, not what is the most convenient for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean shrugs it off. “We’re talking about you. You weren’t allowed to think. Your family locked you up when you were a baby as if you were a killer.”

“I was eight the first time, so–”

“Not helping,” Dean cuts him before Castiel can point out he wasn’t a baby then. Dean piles his free hand over their intertwined hands, as if he couldn’t hold onto Castiel enough. “You... I don’t get how you could have been so strong to leave when no one helped you.”

Castiel shifts uneasily. “You don’t understand... It’s nothing next to what you did. I didn’t have to take care of someone else. I never got hungry or had to worry over anything. I only had to obey a framework.”

“It’s not a competition. A cage is a cage.”

“I suffered less than you.”

“Differently,” Dean corrects him. “Both situations sucked! I’m not envious of you for what you went through. If John had been like your parents, he’d have called an exorcist on me when I could talk instead of just giving me time!”

“Maybe not–”

Dean points a glare at him.

“Or maybe. There was no situation similar enough to yours to be able to tell.”

“I can math and you told me about the exorcist.”

“I did.”

And Castiel is a little puzzled that Dean cares so much for this episode. He seems more bothered by what Castiel went through than Castiel is.

Maybe it’s a part of Dean’s problem.

Castiel would like to explore this thought but Dean keeps going.

“The only book you were allowed to read was the Bible. Not a novel, not a comics, not a movie. I can’t imagine how it is to grow up without any of this. It does helps.”

“It does,” assents Castiel.

“And emotions were forbidden! John wouldn’t have locked me somewhere to teach me to control my emotions because he’d have seen me crying.”

“It never happened to me personally.”

“Being locked up for having questions is so much better. Anyway, you said they locked up people for showing of emotions, so it could have happened to you.”

“Not really. I’m not expressive. People find that unnerving.”

“People are stupid,” Dean snaps. Something fond spreads in Castiel’s chest. Dean is seldom uncharitable, and only when he’s protective of someone—Castiel, in this case. “You heard for the first time about dinosaurs, evolution and the universe when you were fifteen.”

Indeed. And the teacher who had dared to answer their questions had left in a couple of months.

“Is that important for our discussion?”

“It shows how much information was controlled in your environment.”

“And that I never saw Jurassic Park.”

Dean’s mouth quivers. He pinches his lips stubbornly.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“I like that movie,” Castiel keeps going. “Even though the dinosaurs are lacking feathers in it.”

The smile forces its way on Dean’s face.

“Now you’re bragging.”

“Am I?”

Dean mock-eyerolls. “You are and you know it. Point is, at fifteen, I knew many theories and their cousins and their opposites. People can’t agree that much.” His expression shifts into puzzlement. “Doesn’t it have been too hard to catch up on every science in two years?”

“It’s been eye-opening.”

Fondness enters Dean’s expression. He rests a hand on his thigh.

“You see? Not many people would have reacted like you. Correcting all your beliefs so quickly... Choosing to do so... It’s impressive.”

But I didn’t, Castiel doesn’t dare to say.

He still prays and trusts the message of the Scriptures—not literally, but its essence. He keeps believing that God and His angels exist, and that they can influence everything.

“We both ran into our share of problems,” Dean adds more gently. “It’s no use to compare them to see which of us had it worse.”

“You kinda did so,” Castiel points out.

“Because you started it,” Dean grins at him. His smile melts into admiration, then sadness. “You made brave choices. I...” 

Dean breaks their eyecontact, looking away, worry and guilt drawings lines in his forehead. Castiel wants to reach out to smooth them away but Dean looks up at him.

“Since John put Sam in my arms and asked me to watch out for him... I’ve felt so chained to my family. I had to take care of Sam, of John... I knew no one else would, and I knew no one would take care of me. It shouldn’t have been my job but it didn’t matter... and the truth...” Dean drops his eyes again. “The truth is that I was afraid, to end up all alone. I could have found a way to fend for myself. Making money only for me would have been easier. I could have used one of those times John sent me away to run. I could have. But I’ve always been too weak to do so. The dog went back to its box, having learned a new lesson.”

“Dean...”

“It’s out of fear, too, that I ran to Bobby at the second John died. I thought about every people who’d keep our family the way John built it. I didn’t fancy to walk away a single second. John was dead and I didn’t try to break free from the responsibilities he dumped on me. I kept taking care of Sam, and the only reason I stopped is because I broke. I couldn’t do it anymore. I keep spending time with people who knew John. I can complain as much as I want that they compare me to him, I am the one who is too weak to walk away once and for all.”

Castiel is speechless. It’s not the first time he has a glimpse of Dean’s poor self-esteem, but he’s shocked to his core that Dean sees so many of his strengths as weakness.

“I don’t get how you could have been that strong,” Dean continues. “Leaving everything you have always known by mere conviction, without knowing anything about the world, without knowing where you could run to or hide... that’s free will. You knew you’d be alone and it didn’t slow you down.”

“I doubted.”

“You’d have been dumb not to. You kept going. You...” Dean holds a hand to his face. Castiel leans into it. “You must have felt so lonely, and yet you didn’t give up.”

Dean lies him down on the couch. Somehow, Castiel ends up half-lying on Dean, his cheek resting on his slowly falling and rising chest, Dean’s heartbeat singing at his ear. He thinks fleetingly about how it’s not supposed to proceed that way.

But he feels so good here...

Dean pets his back and Castiel’s eyes drop shut.

“You even changed your name,” Dean goes on, his tone even more gentle. “You aren’t theirs anymore. You’re your very own person. You broke your own chains. You’re so very brave.”

“I feel like a coward next to you.”

“You’re not. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Castiel aches to believe it. Dean presses a kiss on his scalp.

“I’m not that independent. I keep asking God to send me signs, to show me I’m on the right path. I told myself I should stop, and I decided to believe the very same day that He sent me a sign to show He keeps watching over me.”

“But why is that bad?”

“I’m weaker than you think.”

“Your faith doesn’t make you weak.”

“I struggle all day long to not tell people they’re celebrating Christmas wrong.”

“There’s a know-it-all lecturing devil on everyone’s shoulder,” Dean jokes.

“Not on yours.”

Dean laughs softly, his chest vibrating against Castiel’s cheek. Castiel feels so relaxed that it’s like his whole being has been turned into jelly.

“I throw tantrums every now and then because people don’t get my references... which you should know.”

“I wouldn’t call that tantrums. It’s adorable.”

“Oh.”

Castiel feels so relaxed that he hardly wants to glance at Dean’s face to watch the way he’s probably blushing.

“I like when you pray,” Dean murmurs. “It’s a part of you.” It’s not the first time Dean is telling so, and Castiel is more and more tempted to believe him every time. “Anyway, your dictatorial tendencies can’t be that bad since you haven’t tried to change me a single time.”

“You’re perfect.”

Dean’s hand stops on his small back. He takes a sharp breath, allows the silence for some time, then he loops his arms around him.

“Let me help you.”

The words jolt Castiel out of his trance. He sits up, breaking away from Dean’s embrace. Dean watches him, confused at first, but quickly a spark of hurt crosses his face.

“I’m the one who should be helping you,” Castiel hurries to explain.

“What?”

Castiel swallows hard. “I’m the one who should be helping you, not the other way around.”

“What you’re saying?”

“You’re helping everyone, all the time. I’m here to help you, not to be another burden.”

Dean sits up and they end up facing each other.

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t rely on you. You deserve a shelter, away from your usual responsibilities.”

Castiel wants to be this shelter. It’s assuredly arrogance, but he can’t help it.

“But I rely on you, all the time. You’re the only one... Do you know how was my life before I met you? I was lonely, and then we met, and... And it’s different, now. I have you. I– I have this great job and my own place and friends. I love my life.”

“None of this is thanks to me.”

“Are you kidding? All of this is because of you. Well... We met because Mildred gave me that job, but... but if you weren’t there, my life wouldn’t have gotten that much better.”

Castiel frowns. It’s not possible.

Dean craddles his cheek. “You really don’t know?”

“You... are making up things to make me feel better.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes.”

Dean drops his hand. He opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it. He pursues his lips, showing an annoyed expression that Castiel has never seen on his face. Dimples dig his cheeks, grabbing Castiel’s whole focus.

“You have dimples.”

“Huh?”

Dean’s surprise chases them away. What a pity.

“That’s not the point! I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Everything started going well when I met you– and don’t you dare to call that a coincidence.”

Castiel would never use that word but Dean isn’t a believer. It makes him curious.

“How would you call that?”

“I don’t know.” Dean hesitates before placing his hands over his. “We started hanging out together, and...” A smile appears on his face. “It was amazing. I was only Dean, for you, and– and I felt real for this first time. We got along right away. It gave me enough confidence to try with other people... You are the one who convinced me to give a shot at LARPing.”

“I really did all of that?”

“You did!”

“I wasn’t aware of it.”

“Because you didn’t do any of it on purpose. It worked only because you were you.”

They allow the silence to settle. Castiel doesn’t mind it. It’s comfortable, filled by Dean’s presence. Dean shuffles closer to him. He lays his head on his shoulder, like a question. Castiel piles a hand over his.

“You don’t think it counts but things got easier with Sam and Bobby too. You made them understand how it was, for me, to grow up with John. It hadn’t lasted long, but it’s important to me.”

Dean takes Castiel’s hands and lift them to his mouth. He leans forward to kiss the back of them. There’s something soft and pure about it, like an act of faith.

“You helped me so much. You’re still helping me. But I need to help you too, sometimes, or I’ll feel like I’m taking  advantage of you.”

It’s so alike Castiel’s own thoughts that he doesn’t know how to answer.

“You understand?” Dean asks.

“I understand.”

Dean settles back their hands on his lap. For this, the last two years, and all the years prior to them, worth iy.

Castiel can still hear Dean’s declaration. I’d do it again. All of it. To be with you today. It wasn’t fun or pleasant, as you know, but... It’d worth it. All of it. But Castiel hasn’t suffered as much as Dean and, in spite of what Dean believes, this difference is fundamental. Those words wouldn’t weight as much in his mouth, no matter how much he means them.

“You’re up to spend Christmas at Bobby’s? To see Sam and the Harvelles?”

“Of course,” Castiel lies.

It’s not much, but it’s something he can do for him.

Dean kisses him.

“Bobby, you– Can you– Will you let me talk?”

The voice pulls Castiel out of sleep. The bed is empty next to him, but still warm and still bearing the print of Dean’s body.

“You don’t get to go all lecturing. You’re the one throwing a fit. Don’t turn this around. You– Can you listen for a second?”

Castiel sits up, frowning. Dean sounds annoyed, on the verge of shouting, which is strange: Dean hates to raise his voice and show if only a hint of aggressiveness towards someone he cares about.

Castiel leaves the bed and walks out of the room. Dean is standing in the living room, his phone pressed against his ear. He’s tapping his foot to the ground. But Castiel’s attention is drawn by the hoodie Dean borrowed from him. He loves when Dean wears his clothes.

“I– Yes but– Cas is important too, and he needs me. It’s– I know. You–” Dean mutters away from the speaker, “Oh fuck it.” He puts back the phone against his ear. “Cas was here for me every time I needed him and I won’t do any less. No, it wouldn’t be the same. You...”

Dean turns around and freezes, his eyes going wide as he notices Castiel.

“Oh? Errr. Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. Something is troubling you?”

“No...”

Dean hangs up without uttering a goodbye. His phone rings until the caller is sent to the voicemail. Then Castiel’s phone sets off.

“Don’t answer if it’s Bobby.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow. Dean pouts.

“Please.”

“Not really convincing.”

Dean bats his eyelashes. “Pretty please then?”

“Better.”

Dean grins and walks to him.

“What is troubling you?”

Dean’s smile fades away. “I want us to spend Christmas together.”

“This is what we intended to do.”

“No. It’d be only you and me.”

“But... what about Bobby? And Sam?”

They’re Dean’s family. Dean loves them in spite of everything.

“I’ll see them at another time.”

“But...”

Dean puts a hand on his arm. “You didn’t drag me outside around my mom’s death. Or whenever I’m not feeling well.”

“I didn’t lose anyone that way.”

“But you lost your family. You can’t go back to them. They sucked, obviously, but they’re still family, and you’ve got every right to miss them.” Dean reaches to his face. “Let me help you.”

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

Saying no is impossible when Dean looks at him like this.

“But your family?”

“You’re my family too.”

Castiel flinches.

“Cas?”

Castiel drags Dean into his arms and clings to him.

Family had never meant someone wanting to help him and caring for him until now.

Dean relaxes and loops his arms around his waist.

“I thought we’d stay here, at first,” Dean explains, sliding pancakes into their plates.

Castiel is a little puzzled by this breakfast fit for a weekend on a Thursday morning, but he tries to not let this detail distract him.

“You think about it since long?”

“Yesterday evening.”

Dean swirls around and puts the pan in the sink. He retraces his steps to sit next to Castiel. Their knees bump together.

“I liked the idea. What’s better than staying home?”

Castiel’s heart warms up. He adores when Dean calls his apartment home. But Dean calling him family... It had been something else entirely.

“Nothing.”

Dean grins. “You got it.” His smile fades. “Except it’s the second place Bobby and Sam will think about.”

“You don’t think they’re going to leave us alone if we ask them?”

Dean lets out a laugh. Castiel can’t tell if it’s happy or wry. He thinks that Dean doesn’t know it either. His clumsy question recalls bad memories. Neither Sam nor Bobby are good at allowing Dean the room he needs, even if they improved. Well, Bobby improved. You can never be sure with Sam. He could stay away long enough to forget everything he should have learned.

“Never. So we must leave a couple of days to enjoy the peace... if you’d like?”

“I’d love to,” Castiel sighs.

“You don’t sound like it,” Dean points out weakly.

“I don’t want to be another obligation for you.”

Dean getting away from his family for himself is one thing... doing so for Castiel is another. Castiel doesn’t want to cause him more loss.

“You’re not.” Dean looks away. “It’d be my first vacation. I really want to spend it with you.”

Castiel wraps a hand over Dean’s. “It’d be an honor to spend this vacation with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Dean comments, his eyes shining.

“You love that.”

Dean doesn’t answer but his smile grows. It turns into a determined expression.

“I thought about what you said last night. I don’t see myself like you do. No one does. And you... You don’t see yourself like I do, right? That’s why you can’t believe you’re a choice.

Castiel tenses, not knowing where Dean wants to lead them.

“I have never relied on anyone as much as I rely on you,” Dean declares, making Castiel’s shoulders ease in relief. “And I want you to rely on me too.”

“I do.”

“But you feel bad about it.”

Castiel doesn’t dignify that with an answer, but his heart and his stomach twist in assent, as if he needed to feel deeply in his flesh what he wanted to hide.

Dean’s leg starts to bounce. His body refuses to hide things. Castiel wonders how people manage to ignore what he tries to convey.

“We need a break. We can’t be expected to be fighting all the time. Running away doesn’t help when you have to run back on the battlefield right away.”

“I’m not fighting.”

“Cas, you left everything you ever known two years ago and tried to understand a wwhole different world on your own. You’ve been alone the whole time. How you’d call that?”

“I... never wondered.”

“I bet,” Dean retorts fondly. “I’m going to take advantage of my amazing job and ask a week off to Mildred. She likes me. She’d give it to me.” Hints of guilt twist his features. “You take a week off too. It’d be only you and me, from Christmas to the New Year... if you want. I think it’ll do us good.”

Dean looks at him, waiting for his answer.

Castiel can only say the truth.

“I’d love that.”

Things feel easier after this decision.

They shouldn’t be, and Castiel can’t help but feel guilty because of this, but knowing he’s going to spend days only with Dean, without having to keep up for anyone, is lifting a weight off his shoulders.

Castiel reports so to Dean and is surprised when his words trigger a huge smile over his face. “This is always how I feel about you.”

The confession lessens his guilt, without destroying it wholly. The doubts rise again when they have a dinner at Bobby’s and Castiel hears the older man grumbling about it, but Dean’s only reaction is to eyeroll. There isn’t the slightest hint of regret in him.

(Castiel is sure of it because he watches. He studies. He’s on the look-out for it.)

Later, Dean gets texts from Sam about it. He leans against Castiel on the couch—in Castiel’s apartment—, showing him his phone while he texts back. Reading about Sam’s whining in live makes Castiel grits his teeth. When will he learn that he doesn’t own Dean?

Another day, as he walks out of the Gas’N’Sip, Castiel catches Dean on the phone. Dean grins at him, full of mischief, and winks.

“But we’re soooooo in loooooove. We need time alone to enjoy our honeymoon phase. I don’t want to spend that many days with you, guys. I’d like better to spend them with my man. I fear we don’t know each other as biblically as we...”

Dean takes the phone away from his ear to look at it. He lets out a laugh and turns the screen towards Castiel. The communication has been shut.

“Sam won’t bother us anymore. I learned this trick at Thanksgiving... though it was an accident then.”

Dean laughs again.

Castiel can’t help but smile back.

“You’re sure about this?” Castiel feels compelled to ask as they are storing their bags in the Impala’s trunk, the 23rd on the evening.

Dean had offered to draw lots the car but Castiel had turned him down. Castiel likes his car, but Baby is important for Dean to an extent that cannot compare.

“I am. I’m going to start thinking you aren’t, though.”

The problem is that Castiel wants it too much.

“Oh!” Dean’s eyes widen and he rummages in the Impala’s trunk, bringing forward two bright colored box—a blue with snowflakes and a red lined with Christmas trees. “Looks like Santa put something for us here. Bobby probably did so the last time we were at his place. Who would have thought Santa is a mechanic wearing a baseball cap?”

“The perfect cover... We should thank him.”

“We’ll do so once we’ll be back, if the gifts are nice. Anyway,” Dean leans into him, “I left gifts under Bobby’s Christmas tree.”

“Does Bobby know?”

“We’ll hear his idjit across the country when he’ll notice it.”

Dean rearranges the boxes and their bags before shutting the Impala’s trunk. He raises his head and his smile fades a little.

“Cas?”

“I don’t want to deprive you of a moment with your family.”

Dean looks unimpressed. Guilt stabs at Castiel’s chest. Dean is probably hearing how little sincere he is: he wants nothing more than keeping Dean for himself.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You remember Thanksgiving? The Roadhouse? Anytime I was with Sam, Bobby and the others and I ran back to you?”

Castiel nods, something turning into steel inside of him. Some of those memories are nice, but most of them are unpleasant, because Dean was hurting, wearing a burden that no one wants to acknowledge.

Taking him away feels almost like a duty, now.

“I’m in no hurry to live that again. You?”

“Me neither.”

Dean drums his fingers on the Impala.

“I should have said so before... but spending Christmas with them was stressing the hell out of me.”

“It was?”

Dean nods. “It made my stomach ache and I had a hard time sleeping.”

“I haven’t noticed that...”

Dean bumps his shoulder with his. “Not when we slept together. When I was alone.” He pauses. “I thought about it all the time when I was alone. Sometimes I did at work to. It was the worst on the evenings and the mornings. My mind went wild, showing me all the ways it could turn wrong. I may have had a little panic attack.”

“Dean!”

“A little one, I swear. I hardly stopped breathing for a minute.”

“It’s not helping.”

“Like you when you said you were eight.”

Castiel wants to protest—it’s not comparable—but Dean continues.

“It’d be good for me to spend that time only with you. I really want to run instead of fighting... I should have told you sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You get along with Bobby, even with Ellen and Jo. I wanted you to choose according to yourself, and not only for me.”

Castiel feels all out-of-place. No one has ever cared for him in the way Dean does.

“Why did it worry you so much?”

“They’ll never get me. I could picture Bobby and Ellen talk about John and what I should have done, and Sam bitching about his childhood... I could see Sam and Jo expecting me to be back to my old ways, to forget about you and the library, being the guy they had always imagined me to be... Even Bobby and Ellen believed in this guy.”

“My cousins,” Castiel remembers, thinking about Hester and Ephraim ambushing him in Sioux Falls. Seeing questions dancing in Dean’s eyes, Castiel hesitates between explaining himself or urging Dean to carry on. The former wins. He’s always wanting to explain himself when Dean looks at him. “When I ran into my cousins, they expected me to not have changed. They’d react the same way in five or ten years. They are unable to understand who I am out of their framework.”

Dean nods.

“You think it’ll be the same for you,” Castiel concludes.

“They proved so. I don’t want them to pity me or beat themselves up or anything like that. It’s only that I don’t want to spend hours acting like it doesn’t matter, like I did at the Roadhouse. They’ll never get me? Okay. But I don’t want to rinse and repeat the same conversation all over again to end up comforting them.” Dean scrunches up his nose. “It’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“You don’t want them to change though their ways are hurting you. I don’t see what is selfish about it,” Castiel remarks. “If I went back to my family, I’d try to convince them their ways are wrong.”

“There’s nothing bad with it.”

“I thought we agreed you shouldn’t support my dictatorial tendencies.”

“I dunno,” Dean smiles. “I bet it’d be cute. You’re a good person. It’ll find a way to show.”

“I’d make everyone accommodate who you are without caring for their little feelings.”

A laugh escapes Dean. “Okay. Not so cute then... Let’s hit the road before you have to carry out that threat.”

“We’d better.”

Castiel reaches out and Dean gives him the key of the Impala.

“Haven’t you thought your problem may be that you care too much about everyone?” Castiel asks.

“I don’t know... have you realized that your problem is that you’re too demanding with yourself?” Dean retorts with a playful smile.

Castiel snorts.

The honeymoon suite is more than comfortable.

Dean thinks so too. The first thing he does, even before unpacking his stuff, is to drop on the bed and stretches to take as much room as he can.

Castiel smiles softly. He loves to see him so relaxed—and trusting.

He hardly takes a step towards the bed that Dean curls smaller and aims hopeful eyes at him. Castiel abandons his bag to lie next to him. Dean cuddles against him, like water finding its bank. They’re curled so tightly together that Castiel’d bet they could fit in a one-person sleeping bag.

“This week is gonna be great,” Dean sighs against his throat.

Castiel hums. Spending seven days like this can be nothing but a foretaste of Paradise.

The following afternoon, Dean paces into the living room of the suite.

“Something is wrong?” Castiel asks, wondering if Dean changed his mind.

Dean stops.

“You mind gifts? For Christmas?”

“I don’t.”

“You really don’t?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Is it about Bobby’s gifts?”

“Not only.”

Dean eyes him for a bit before nodding at himself. He walks to a chair, grabs his jacket and slides his hand in an inner pocket. He produces a thin, rectangular packaging, covered in white and gold paper. Dean walks back to Castiel and presses the package against his chest. 

“It’s for you.”

Castiel unwraps the gift gently. Dean almost bounces on his feet in impatience. Castiel reveals a notebook that he studies closely.

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

Castiel complies. Dean’s beautiful handwriting is blackening the pages. He reproduced quotes that Castiel loved in books he had read—they spend so much time talking about books. The first pages are compiling quotes from the Bible. Doing this must have taken much time. He did so before Castiel told him about his late worries about his faith.

Dean truly accepts all of him.

Castiel traces the letters with his fingers. It’s so thoughtful...

Dean jabs a finger at his nose.

“You see? This is why you shouldn’t make dumb compliments to people. That’s how you end up with stupid gifts and pretend forever that you care about it.”

“It’s a beautiful gift.”

“Not a year of dating and already trapped.”

“I mean it, Dean.”

Dean slams his jaw shut. He stares at him. Castiel notices the tension in his muscles before he pounces on him. The warning is enough for Castiel to take the notebook out of his reach and secure Dean against him.

“Let me go! I have to confiscate you that.”

“You won’t do such a thing.”
 
“I will!”

“It’s a gift. You’re not allowed to.”

“You weren’t meant to take it so seriously,” Dean whines, stopping to struggle for a bit. “I’ve got a real gift to offer you. Something I bought.”

“I like this one very much.”

“Cas.”

“You can try.”

Dean narrows his eyes, weighting his chances. As if Castiel isn’t keeping him into place with one arm. It’s adorable.

Castiel stretches out to put the notebook on the coffee table and maneuvers Dean so he ends up with his back against Castiel’s chest. Dean seems to wonder about his course of actions before leaning into him.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I hope so, given we’re dating.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I haven’t realized when I feel with you the first time.” Dean stiffens. “You’re the one who noticed we were dating. It was so natural. But the second time... It was different. I understand better all those stories about coups de foudre and arrows and hearts that jump out of chests like in the cartoons you love so much. It’s almost painful.”

“The second time?” Dean repeats, atone.

“Thanksgiving, when we returned to Bobby’s house.” It’s been not long ago, but Castiel is certain that each detail of it will stay engraved in his until his last breath and that his soul will carry this memory with him in his last home. “When you told me you wouldn’t change a thing about your life so you’d meet me... I felt myself falling in love with you. As if struck by lightning.”

Dean takes a shaky breath. He shuffles to look at him.

“And I fell for you again... Is there a limit of how many times you can fall in love with someone?”

Dean opens his mouth but utters no sound. Panic shines in his eyes. Castiel holds onto him tighter and drops a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“It’s okay. You told me. I know.”

Dean’s eyes fill with too many emotions for Castiel to identify them all. Dean presses himself against him, his hand curling into his shirt. Castiel lies back, bringing Dean down with him. He strokes his back as Dean nestles closer to him, as if he’s trying to hide under Castiel’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Castiel whispers again.

Dean shakes his head. He props himself up and tries to talk. Frustration etches on his features.

“Dean...”

Dean pats Castiel’s chest. He wants to tell him something now. It must be distressing to have your own body betray you this way. Castiel remembers Dean asking—almost begging, really—him to not get impatient if words get too much for him, that he doesn’t do so on purpose and that he’d answer him as soon as he could.

Castiel thinks about his notebook.

“You could write?”

Dean’s eyes shine and he nods with enthusiasm. Castiel untangles from him and goes to their room. He rummages in Dean’s bag and retrieves his drawing supplies—a notebook and a pen. He hurries back to him, puts everything in his arms and sits at his side. Dean turns the pages until he reaches a blank one. He settles the notebook on his knees and scribbles on it.

I never thought about it.

“Never?”

Dean shakes his head. Shrugs. It’s not like someone would have cared enough to read. He frowns and crosses out the sentence until its words are unreadable.

Castiel presses his shoulders against Dean’s. Dean leans back, relaxing.

I hate to sound like a crybaby.

“I know.”

It’s about you.

You’re it for me.

Castiel blinks. Dean turns the page and flips his notebook.

I’m tired of waiting, and play normal. I’m not normal. I don’t feel 22 and I can’t

He waves his hand around.

“You don’t have to pretend or act, with me.”

Dean nods. I hate when I go home and you aren’t there.

Warmth fills Castiel’s heart.

“I hate it too.”

Dean grins and scribbles further.

I want to cut corners.

I’ll never want kid, but I want a house, and I want you.

I want us to be together

Dean starts writing a f, but he overstrikes it and adds a full stop after ‘together’ to pretend it’s the natural end of his sentence.

“I want forever too.”

Dean blushes and rubs his hand on his neck. He turns at the previous page and underlines ‘You’re it for me’ several times before looking at him.

“Where would you like to live?”

Dean blushes harder, but, in the same time, he smiles, obviously pleased.

Castiel’s heart squeezes and stretches inside his chest. He doesn’t think he’d ever get used at being able to make someone smile—to make Dean smile.

Sioux Falls

“Obviously. You aren’t going to leave the library any time soon.”

Dean drops his eyes, smiling harder.

“We could take do it as soon as we’re back in Sioux Falls.” Castiel waits for Dean to look at him before continuing, “We could search a house and... one of us could drop his apartment, so we’d move in together right away.”

Dean nods and points at himself. Castiel cocks his head to the side. “I was thinking about my place.”

Your place is comfier.

“I thought you didn’t mind us living on top of each other.”

Dean makes an amused sound.

You can’t be serious

“Of course I am. You love your place, so it’s logical that you enjoy it a little more before we find our own place.”

Dean circles ‘your place’ several times and surrounds it with interrogation marks.

“I’m not really attached to it.”

Dean studies his expression and nods.

“Glad we’re agreeing. You know what kind of house you’d want?”

Dean gestures they’d need money.

“It won’t be a problem. I have still enough to buy a house. At least.”

Dean stares at him. He scribbles furiously,

Why you tortured yourself with that hell of a job, then???

“You know why.”

Dean mock-punches his shoulder. He frowns, thinking, and adds, How much you took?

“As much as I could.”

Dean huffs in amusement.

“We could pick up the house you want.”

Dean pats his shoulder and gestures between them. Castiel smiles.

“The house we want,” he amends. “And... I could search about community college around Sioux Falls. I’ll enroll to different classes, about different topics. I’ll try all kind of hobbies to see what I really loves.”

Dean grins, brightening up the room. He drops his notebook and his pen next to him before hugging Castiel. He presses a kiss on his jaw and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Castiel loops his arms around him. Dean seems to belong here.

Castiel seems to belong here too.

Dean wriggles out of his arms. He takes back his notebook and adds, NAP.

“A comfortable bed waits for us,” Castiel assents.

Dean smiles.

We’ll think AFTER our vacation

“It’s a good plan.”

Dean nods and rises to his feet. He held out his hand to him. Castiel doesn’t hesitate before taking the offered hand. He follows Dean to their room.

Dean is lying next to him, looking so at peace and content that Castiel feels his last embers of regret scatter and disappear.

He presses a kiss on his forehead. Dean hums. When he moves back, Dean follows him, drawn like a magnet. He drapes an arm across his chest and bends his knee over his legs, half lying on top of him.

Castiel drifts into sleep, feeling safe and loved.

This is how Dean feels about me, too.

The realization fishes him out of slumber. He squeezes his arms tighter around Dean. Dean sighs of contentment. It won’t stop once they’ll go back to Sioux Falls. They’ll keep living together from now on, sharing most of their meals and always sleeping together. They’ll even get a house.

Castiel is pretty sure he’ll be able to call it his home. He kisses Dean’s forehead again.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Love you,” Dean murmurs sleepily.

Castiel presses another kiss on his forehead. Dean’s mute episode hasn’t lasted long, this time. He’ll be relieved, tomorrow, once he’ll be awake enough to notice it.

“I love you too.”