Chapter Text
Cas is beginning to think the universe (or perhaps just Meg) is out to get him. A few nights later, Meg drags him and another coworker out to a bar. Cas hasn’t worked with Jeremy all that often since he works weekends mostly and leaves his shift when Cas gets there. But Meg insisted on a “Company Outing” except he’s not even sure if she’s actually his boss at this point. But for whatever reason she was extremely insistent that he come out with her and said that Jeremy was having a “rough go” and needed some company. Although it seems highly unlikely Meg cares about Jeremy all that much the way she rolls her eyes everytime he speaks, and he has the feeling this has more to do with him than it does anything else.
But he doesn’t realize that until he’s surrounded by writhing bodies that smell of pungent perfumes and body odor.
His shoes stick to the dark wood floor painted blue and pink by the beams of light emanated from the walls and ceiling. He already feels a bit nauseated from the shared car ride in the taxi, and he tries to center himself among the unusual smells and high pitched vocals blaring from the speakers.
Meg grabs his hand and drags him to the bar. He tries to settle for just water but Meg pushes a shot into his hand and confirms his theory when she taps her glass against his and yells, “to shitty boyfriends!”
The shot burns going down and he thinks there might’ve been something wrong with his because there’s no way people enjoy that.
Meg turns to flag down the bartender for another drink. Cas grabs her arms and pulls her aside.
“Meg,” Cas sighs.
She smiles innocently back at him.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you?”
“I know we’re not here for Jeremy.” Being as Meg ditched him the second they entered the door. But a quick glance around the room finds him getting along fine with a short brunette.
“Would you have come out here if I said it was for you?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t understand, why?”
“Clarence, you’ve been moping about Dean all week, and you’ve been running into the storage room seconds before he comes in.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, awkwardly, before taking it away to put in her jacket pocket. “I just wanted you to get your mind off of him and your body on someone else.”
He knows this is a well intentioned gesture, and the act of which is abnormal for Meg on its own. But he just doesn’t know if he can go along with all of this, tonight.
“I don’t really want that.”
She gives him a small smile. “Okay, no tall-dark-and-handsome tonight. How about just drinks in silence with occasional bitching?”
“Okay,” he agrees.
The beat from the speakers travels unpleasantly through the floor and settles unevenly with his own heart beat.
They find a seat somewhere on the edge of the sea of writhing bodies. Cas keeps his hands on his lap to avoid touching the surface of the table that is already covered in condensation rings and a used napkin and small red straw.
They drink. Meg occasionally points out a person in the crowd she finds attractive. For her or for him, he’s not sure.
When they’ve finished their first drink, Cas offers to grab their next one. Partly hoping to find some relief from overstimulation of college kids celebrating the end of the school year by going out after dousing themselves in body sprays that hardly cover the aroma of sweat and alcohol and weed. And partly to be of some use.
Cas’ lungs feel tight as he pushes his way through the crowd. He repeats Meg's order over in his head. Long strands of hair covered in hairspray swipe across his face.
He reaches the bar and tries for an opening amongst the others waiting for their drinks, and sits.
The man over the counter asks him a question.
Cas stares, not processing his words. He tries to take a breath. It’s definitely hotter in this room than it is out in the California air. It’s suffocating.
Every noise settles unevenly in the pit of his stomach. The brush of his own shirt against his skin irritates him and every brush against another person feels like he’s scraping his arm against a brick wall. He feels himself sway.
“Alright kid, I’m cutting you off for the night.” His words don’t break through.
He tries to shut his eyes to keep the flashing lights from furthering the ache in his head. Every smell has amplified the earlier car sickness Cas was experiencing.
A few annoyed comments pass his ears over the sounds of EDM about him standing in the way. A few comments about him looking ill and few asking if he’s okay.
Anna’s voice rings out in his mind. I know you’re miserable here, this is no place for an angel, and he feels his stomach twist at the reminder of Anna’s betrayal, and everything he’s lost. A sick reminder that he’s trapped.
Each beat is a hammer to his skull. Each shove or brush past him are like a thousand little ant bites on his skin.
If he could summon his wings he’d be in fight or flight mode, but with no grace he can do neither. So he sits there.
A girl next to him laughs, her voice shrill.
He flinches. He slides off the bar seat to attempt an escape. But the minute his feet are beneath him, they feel weak. He grabs the counter for purchase, and he feels himself leaning, and there’s nothing stopping him from hitting the floor.
A solid hand wraps around his arm. It’s warm. And it’s soft against his skin despite the obvious callouses.
Cas opens his eyes to meet concerned green eyes. He says something but Cas can’t hear him, he just watches his mouth move. Dean drags his hand down Cas’ arm and pulls him along.
Hand in hand, he can feel Dean’s pulse. His heartbeat steadies Cas’ own.
His focus has changed. Every touch, every smell— they no longer harm him, but excite him. Everything about Dean has him memorizing the sensation.
Dean guides him. Cas is only half aware of the crowd they fight to get through. Instead he chooses to watch how the back of Dean’s hair meets the collar of his jacket. Or the way his silhouette looks when he looks to the side to check on Cas. His profile is painted in blues and pinks.
“Where are we going?” Cas shouts.
Dean keeps walking, squeezing Cas’ hand in response and reassurance.
The bars across the door clicks as Dean pushes through with one hand. “Do you care?” Dean raises an eyebrow over his shoulder, and gestures for him to step outside.
The door is heavy and squeals and groans before slamming shut again behind them. All sound coming from inside null once the door barriers them from the pounding music.
The small breeze feels like heaven on his skin. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. Deep.
“Hey, buddy. You okay?” Dean says once they’re surrounded by graffitied walls and silence. Cas follows Dean to a picnic table a few feet away.
“I’m fine.”
“Good, cause you were looking a little jolly there, Mister Giant.” He smiles lightly, sitting by him.
Cas looks at him. “I don’t see how I was being ‘jolly’.”
His face falls. “Uh.”
“Thank you, Dean. For saving me.” Cas knows the significance in that, even if Dean doesn’t know yet.
Yet. Like he can ever know.
Dean waves him off. “It’s nothing, Cas.” He smiles. “Though perhaps I should start keeping a tally.”
Cas’ heart skips a beat. “What?”
“In the car? Your hand? It’s not life-saving, no, but–”
“Ah.” Cas smiles. “Thank you for that as well.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles almost smugly. “So you’re okay? Did you drink too much?”
“No.”
Dean waits for a minute, before nodding. “Okayyy.”
Cas studies his face and continues. “I don’t think I handle crowds well.”
Dean nods. “Yeah, I get that. I didn’t really think this was your scene.”
“No, I was dragged here by Meg.” He turns to the door. “She’s probably wondering where—”
“Hey, she’ll be fine.” Dean puts a hand on his shoulder, and Cas gaze snaps to it. The light overhead flickers. He immediately regrets the attention to the hand, because Dean self-consciously pulls it away. “I can go talk to her if you need a ride home.”
Cas watches his face for a moment. Studies his freckles again. Has he gotten more since he last saw him?
“Why do you care, Dean? It’s not like I haven’t been avoiding you these past few days.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up. “Yeah, you gotta stop that.”
Dean is sitting close. Cas can feel the warmth radiating from Dean’s leg against his. Or is that Cas’?
“I don’t know if I can.” Cas whispers.
Dean leans away. Rejection slaps across his face for a moment, before it settles into something harder. Cas watches him build a wall between them before his eyes. Cas doesn’t like it.
“Right.” His jaw clenches. “Is it the, you know.” Dean gestures between them.
Cas offers him a confused look.
“Cause we’re both—” Dean puts his arms up in a casual surrender. “Cause, hey, I get it. Just didn’t think you—you know—were like that.”
“Dean, what are you talking about?”
“You kn—”
“If you say ‘you know’ one more time …”
“Guys, Cas. We’re both guys.”
Cas absorbs that for a moment, watching Dean’s face for any sort of context. “And that matters?”
“Uh, yeah. It matters. To a lot of people.”
“It doesn’t to me.”
“Oh.” Dean nods. “So, it’s just me you don’t like, then.”
“Dean, no. That’s not it.” Cas places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. His hand feels alive where he’s touching Dean. Something charged travels through him, and he shivers at the feeling. But he doesn’t remove his hand. “It’s a lot, Dean,” he whispers. The warmth in his core, the tingling of his grace feels so natural. So good. “I don’t want to end up hurt.” Or killed. Or found by Zachariah and de-winged.
“Do you think I would hurt you?”
“No.” Cas tells the truth easily. “Not on purpose.”
The door creaks open and Dean jumps away. So smooth you wouldn’t notice he was close to Castiel in the first place. Cas’ side now vacant of any warmth emitting from Dean, he shivers again against the cool wind.
“Hey, man. We were wondering where you ran off to.” A man in a flannel and brown hair to his collar steps out.
“Sorry Lee, just getting some air,” Dean says stiffly. Cas notices subtle differences in this Dean. He’s guarded, yet careless with his posture.
The man at the door looks from Dean to Cas and then back to Dean with a strange look on his face. “Right.” He opens the door and steps halfway through. “Josh is buying the next round so come on in when you two finish jacking each other off out here,” he says mockingly.
Dean tenses. And he doesn’t relax when the door slams shut and they’re once again alone. He doesn’t scoot close again, nor does he even look at Castiel.
“You’re uncomfortable,” Cas observes.
Dean laughs something short and self-depreciating.
“Are you uncomfortable that we’re both… ‘guys’,” asks Cas.
Dean sighs. “It’s… Complicated. It’s how I was raised. It’s not you, it’s everyone else.” He gestures vaguely at the door.
Cas nods. After a pause, he says, “I don’t like your friend.”
Finally Dean looks at him with a small smile. “Yeah, he’s more of a coworker anyway.”
The hairs on his skin stand up. Of course Dean has friends who are hunters. For some reason this hadn’t occurred to him before.
Castiel, for the most part, doesn’t think Dean will hurt him now. But another hunter?
“God, it would’ve been better to just fuck and go our separate ways, than whatever the fuck this is,” Dean says into the palm of his hands, his elbows on his knees.
“and what is this”
“This.” Dean looks up from where his face was buried in his hands. “This mess. This back and forth.”
Cas watches him. Dean is staring at the ground, kicking dirt like a petulant child. He can’t even look at Cas. “I understand.” He stands. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Dean stands and keeps his hand in his pockets.
Cas rounds the table, his footsteps scrap against the cracked asphalt as he reaches the door. “Goodbye, Dean.”
“Yeah, bye,” Dean says to the wall.
Cas turns the handle, the door once again croaking unpleasantly under the weight of itself.
“It’s not.” Cas hears. Barely audible. He lets the door swing shut and turns to Dean, who’s still not looking at him.
“What?” Cas says.
Half startled at Cas’ voice, Dean turns to him. He’s scared.
Cas closes the gap between them. They’re dimly lit from the alley light and the moon.
“It’s not what I want.” Dean says again, to Cas.
Cas hand trembles by Dean’s cheek, terrified to touch him. Like he might hurt him. Like if he touches him, he won’t ever stop.
Dean catches Cas’ hand in his own, and places it on his own cheek. Dean shuts his eyes and leans into the touch. His face scrunch in agony or pleasure, like nobody has ever touched him before.
“Dean.”
“Don’t stay away from me anymore.” The words are strained. Like they were painful, and confused. Like he doesn’t understand.
And neither does Cas. “Okay.”
Dean pulls him in, and Cas follows. Completely pliant under Dean’s touch. Their lips meet. Carefully, at first. But at the first touch they’re clinging to each other, mouths searching.
Determined to stay in control, Cas grips the fabric of Dean’s clothes. Cas’ skin is on fire. Dean’s hand skim up his body and he doesn’t know where Dean starts and his grace ends.
He’s electrified and drunk in Dean’s hands.
Dean lips move against his and it’s like he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks.
His wings nudge beneath his shoulder blades and Cas breaks off with a gasp. Dean follows him, deepening the kiss.
The heavy door once again opens behind them. He almost misses it except Dean is tearing him away from himself like he’s made of fire and he just burned Dean.
A way-past-tipsy couple stumbles out of the club, laughing obnoxiously and hanging off each other. The girl mumbles an apology to them with a secret giggle to her boyfriend before rounding the corner of the building.
When Cas turns back, Dean’s looking at Cas.
“So, uh.” His cheeks are tinted pink. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Dean asks.
And Cas can’t for the life of him remember why he ever tried to stay away from Dean in the first place.
“Yes.”
“Ok, cool. I’ll pick you up for work.”
Dean leaves him standing in the alley, waiting for the other shoe to drop.