Chapter Text
By the next evening, Dean realized that finding Priya when she didn’t want to be found was basically impossible, but when he said so, Sam gave him the Scrunched Eyebrows of Disappointment in response.
“Seriously,” Dean persisted as he paced the length of Sam’s motel room. “She’ll come back when she wants to come back, but Cas can’t trace her and it’s not like she has a home we can follow her to.”
“So what, you’re saying we should just leave?” Sam’s browline gathered another disapproving wrinkle.
Dean shook his head, more in frustration than denial. “There’s just gotta be a better way than wandering through the woods yelling.”
“We only tried that once,” Sam protested. When Dean gave him a look, he sighed, pushing away from the tiny table. “Besides, what else are we supposed to do?”
Go home. The thought entered Dean’s mind unbidden, no matter how many times he had pushed it away in the past day. He didn’t have a better suggestion, though.
Sam seemed to take Dean’s silence for agreement. “Right now, it makes the most sense to hang out in the area and see if she shows up. We can’t keep leaving her out here alone.”
“Dean?” Cas’s voice came from the adjoining room, and Dean poked his head through the doorframe.
“Oh good, you’re back,” he said. Seeing Cas untied something in his chest. “How was Arkansas?”
“Not as bad as it could have been.” Cas shook his head and shrugged a little. “Seong froze the high school football field rather than the parking lot this time, so the only thing that skidded out of control was a golf cart. Unfortunately, they still don’t seem to grasp why they need to stop turning everything into a skating rink, which is certainly impacting their ability to control the power.”
“Maybe you could hook Elsa up with Alfalfa and they’d kind of cancel each other out.” Dean made an exaggerated gesture, grinning, and to his relief Cas actually chuckled. It must have actually been an okay day, then.
“Or they would combine forces to shatter every piece of metal within a five mile radius, just for fun.” Cas walked over and hugged Dean with the kind of casual affection that Dean was ever so slowly getting used to.
“As long as Baby’s outside that radius, I say they should go for it.”
Cas rolled his eyes as he pulled away. “Did you discover any clues to Priya’s whereabouts?”
“Nada,” Dean said. “Feels like we’re just walking around in circles.”
“Metaphorically,” Cas said sharply, eyes narrowing. “You aren’t actually wandering around looking for her while I’m not here, right?”
Dean opened his mouth, closed it, and glanced at Sam for help.
“She said she didn’t want to hurt us,” Sam pointed out, crossing his arms. “I figured since you’re the one that keeps pissing her off, maybe she’d come out while you were gone.”
“Sam,” Cas said, his voice full of warning, “you know that if she did something, you’d be helpless.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, sharper than was entirely necessary. “You’ve told me a million times! But that doesn’t change the fact that me and Dean have been dealing with things that can squash us like bugs for most of our lives.”
“You need to be more careful.” Cas didn’t cross his arms the way Sam had, but he didn’t really need to. It was all captured in the rest of his body language, the squaring of his shoulders and tilt of his head as he stared at Sam across the tiny table.
“No, we really don’t, Cas.”
“Yes you do!” Cas’s frustration was evident in his escalating volume. “For ‘most of your lives’ you had multiple entities watching over you who were both willing and able to assist or even resurrect you. That’s no longer the case. You’re not God’s main characters anymore, and I’m not sure you understand that there’s a very real possibility that one or both of you might die!”
Sam’s face went very still, and Dean swallowed hard, instincts older than his hunting instincts kicking into gear. Diffuse the situation. Don’t let it get any worse. Don’t let anyone walk out. “We understand, Cas,” he said quietly, shifting in front of Cas slightly to redirect his attention. “Really. I’m sorry we didn’t at least tell you that we went out looking for her.”
“I’m not!” Sam stood abruptly, a single sharp motion. “I don’t have to tell you everything I do, Cas, because believe it or not, I’m not just another kid that you need to check in on every day.”
“That’s true,” Castiel shot back, “you’re significantly more fragile than any of the children I take care of.”
Sam snapped his laptop shut. “You know what, Cas?” he said, walking over to his duffle and shoving the computer in. “If you want to baby Dean, fine. I’m all for it.”
“Sam—” Dean said, but Sam’s words plowed right through his.
“But I’m not Dean. And I know what I’m doing.” He shouldered the bag and grabbed the car keys off the table where Dean had left them. “I need some space.” He walked to the door, brushing past Dean. “I’m gonna find somewhere else to crash tonight, and I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”
“Somewhere— Sam, we have separate rooms,” Dean protested.
Sam glanced at Dean, expression almost apologetic, and Dean thought maybe he’d won. Then Sam shrugged, a familiar shrug, defensive and dismissive. “Yeah, but the walls are pretty thin here—figured you two would want the privacy.”
Dean froze, but Cas said coolly, “We haven’t consummated.”
Sam blinked, a little of his momentum lost, then recovered. “Didn’t need to know that. I’m gonna go.”
Dean’s face was burning, but somehow, he managed to find his voice again. “Sam—” This time Dean was cut off by the slam of the door. He clenched his jaw, walking the tightrope between anger and guilt and unwilling to dip into either.
“Dean?” Cas asked quietly, looking at him with more concern than Dean really thought the situation warranted. Then he realized that he was gripping Cas’s sleeve, hard enough that the blood had receded from his fingertips and his fingers were splotchy and shaking. He made himself let go, turning away.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Cas’s touch on his shoulder was feather light, and Dean felt himself tipping off the tightrope, but he didn’t even know which way he was falling. Mia’s advice from the last time they spoke filtered through the storm of emotions. The space between stimulus and response is as long as you make it. Sometimes you just have to stop and breathe, okay?
“Just. Gimme a sec.” Dean pulled gently away from Cas and sat down on the bed, closing his eyes. His pulse was so loud in his ears that he couldn’t hear if Cas had moved. What if he just left too? Dean’s eyes flew back open in a panic and saw Cas standing by the table, concerned on his face. But he was still there. He was giving Dean a sec. Dean closed his eyes again.
Stay grounded. Dean gripped the bed lightly, feeling the roughness of the cheap blanket. He inhaled that weird smell of dust and lysol that permeated every motel he’d ever been in. Identify. He was afraid. Why? Because Sam and Cas were fighting. Why does that scare you?
Step by step, he worked himself away from the balancing act, back to relatively stable ground. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it took, but when he opened his eyes Cas was still there, unmoved, waiting patiently.
He was okay. He was okay. He took a final deep breath, feeling Cas’s attention on him as soft rather than crushing. “Y’know,” he said, trying to let the words come out casual, “you really didn’t need to bring up our sex life.”
Cas squinted at him. “I didn’t bring it up; Sam did.”
“You know what I mean,” he said, because criticizing Cas for that was easier than dealing with all the rest. “‘We haven’t consummated?’ Really?”
“Well, we haven’t.” Cas shrugged. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not,” Dean insisted, “but it’s none of Sam’s business. And when you put it like that, man, it’s just weird.” He got up and paced in the space between the bed and the desk again, trying to ignore how levelly Cas was watching him.
“This is what bothered you so much?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean laughed weakly.
“No.”
“Then do you want to talk about what really did?”
“No,” Dean repeated, softer this time.
“All right.” Sometimes Dean forgot that Cas didn’t need to blink, but this was not one of those times. It felt like Cas was staring right through him… and hell, maybe he was. Dean still didn’t really know how angels worked. Cas said nothing. He was obviously waiting Dean out, seeing if the silence would get so bad that Dean would fill it with something. The trouble was, it was working.
“I don’t want to talk about my damage, okay?” Dean made another turn, a racehorse on the world’s smallest track. “Tell me more about the kids.”
“I already told you about the nephilim.”
“Barely,” Dean said. He went to the minifridge and grabbed a beer that Sam had stashed there earlier, then opened it on the edge of the desk, ignoring the scrape that the cap made on the particle board. “Tell me more.”
But apparently Cas just wanted to watch Dean drink his beer.
“So, what, you’re just going to stare at me all night?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cas said, face perfectly neutral.
Dean tried not to smile, he really did, but the corner of his mouth curled before he could hide it behind another swallow. “Whoever told you being creepy is part of your charm, they were lying.”
“How unfortunate.” Cas watched Dean take another swig. “We can at least sit with each other, while I’m being creepy and you’re being obstinate. If you’d like.” He tilted his head toward the bed.
“This is Sam’s bed,” Dean said automatically, even though Sam was apparently not using it tonight. Cas just blinked slowly at him. Who had told him that blinking was an okay way to communicate? “Sure, we can go to the other room.” Dean finished his lap and took another beer from the fridge. “Want one?”
“No,” Cas said, and Dean shrugged. Instead of putting it back, he crossed into the room he was sharing with Cas, who followed behind. As Dean put the beer on the bedside table there, he caught Cas’s quizzical look. “I’ll drink it later,” he explained.
“Alcohol has started affecting you again since my Grace was removed, hasn’t it?” Cas’s tone was mild, observing more than accusing, and he settled on the end of the bed without further protest.
Dean just nodded, taking another swig pointedly and lowering himself onto the bed beside Cas—probably a mistake, because Dean had a hard time staying still when he was like this, and sitting down now was only going to make it more obvious when he got back up.
“I’m sorry I fought with Sam,” Cas said after a few more moments of the signature creepy stare. “I didn’t mean to.”
Dean shrugged. “Tell him that.” Not that Sam would care, probably. When he got into one of his righteous attitudes, apologies meant nothing to him. Dean grabbed his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, just to see if Sam had texted where he had gone. He hadn’t. Maybe he was still driving away. He tossed the phone onto the bed, not so far that he wouldn’t notice it buzz, and returned his attention to the carpet between his shoes.
“I can talk to Sam tomorrow,” Cas said. “Right now, I’m apologizing to you.”
Dean frowned at him, hand moving nervously on the neck of his beer bottle. He took another swallow before saying, “Don’t see why.”
“Because even if you don't want to talk about it, it obviously upset you.”
“Yeah, well…” Dean trailed off, drowning the end of his sentence in the end of his beer. Good thing he’d left another one close to hand. As he reached for it, though, Cas touched his leg gently. He obviously wasn’t trying to stop Dean, but Dean froze nonetheless. Then, a flicker of annoyance went through Dean, and he leaned the rest of the way to take the beer, this time opening it on the bedside table, leaving another scratch behind. “Two beers isn’t a lot,” he snapped.
Cas pulled away, placing his hand in his own lap, and nodded once in acknowledgement. He said nothing, didn’t even look disapproving, but Dean still felt guilty.
“You said it was all right that I didn’t want to talk about it, so stop trying to guilt me into telling you anyway,” he grumbled, suddenly exhausted. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he didn’t want Sam to still be gone when he did. He wanted Cas to stop watching him like that, but he didn’t want to talk about the things he knew Cas was looking for. He wanted to get mad at how both of them were acting, but he was tired of being angry all the time. Sighing, Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, letting the beer bottle dangle from his fingertips without actually dropping it to the floor. He missed when things had been easier. If they’d ever been easier.
When the moment stretched on long enough that the silence was excruciating, Dean took another swig of his beer and got to his feet again. “You go first,” he said. “Why’d you get so pissed? Sam and I were just doing what we do.”
And Cas genuinely looked surprised when Dean turned on his heel to complete a circle. Some crawling, guilty part of Dean figured it was probably because Dean never asked him to talk through stuff like this, just barrelled over him with all of Dean’s crap, but Cas just said, “I thought that much was evident.”
“Okay, well, pretend I’m an idiot and walk me through it anyway.” Cas was quiet, but when Dean stole a glance on the next turn he seemed contemplative rather than resistant, so Dean waited. Let Cas see how he liked letting the silence grow. Five tiny laps later, Cas spoke.
“I was angry because I’m scared.” Cas spoke in a measured, neutral tone, The same intense stare that he’d leveled at Dean a few minutes ago was now fixed on his hands. “Despite Jack being a vast improvement on Chuck, he is sometimes completely unfathomable, even to me. I don’t know what would happen to any of us if I disobeyed and healed one of you a second time, but I’m scared that one day I’ll find out. And that makes me angry too.” Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Cas continued, still in that calm, measured voice. “Since I can’t heal you if you get hurt, the only thing I can think of is to keep you with me so you don’t get hurt. Except that would put you in further danger from the nephilim. And even if I didn’t have the nephilim, I know that being that protective would smother you. Is smothering you. And I understand that, so I try to give you space, but then I’m back at the beginning with the fear. Which makes me… angry.”
Something twisted in Dean’s chest as he listened to Cas speak. He put his second beer bottle—which he had emptied without paying attention as he paced—on the desk and stopped in front of Cas. “Well, if I had it my way you’d be seeing a lot more of this ugly mug, smothering be damned.” When Cas frowned at him, Dean broke line of sight to go get another beer from Sam’s fridge. “And I know that’s not the point,” he called back to Cas, the fact that he couldn’t see him making it easier, somehow, to talk. “I spent my entire life trying to protect Sam. But putting people in lockdown doesn’t work. Sammy gets real antsy about it real fast. Which you now know.” He opened the new beer and swallowed down the hurt of it, then went back and leaned on the door frame. “Besides, what’s the worst that can happen for you if we die? You’ve got the wings and the halo, so you can just zap up to heaven and see us.”
“No, I can’t, Dean.” Cas had shrunk while Dean was gone, shoulders bowed in and fists clenched tight with stress. “I was exiled, you may recall.”
Dean blinked. “Yeah, but wasn’t that just what Jack called it so you could stay here?”
“No.” There was vehemence in Cas’s voice, although he still wasn’t looking up at Dean. “It’s exile. Jack didn’t ‘let me’ stay on Earth to be with you; he ordered me to stay as a punishment for disobeying. I can’t go back to Heaven without permission, and I doubt that you dying would be reason enough to grant that permission.”
“Oh.” It took Dean a few moments to process that one. Not because of the beer—although that probably wasn’t helping—but because it was so unlike Jack. Cas didn’t seem to notice, still staring at the carpet between his feet like he was analyzing the molecules in the polyester. Maybe he was, Dean wouldn’t know. He didn’t know what to say, so he went over to the bed and sat beside Cas. “That’s—” He shook his head. “I guess I just don’t get it.” When Cas lifted his eyes to Dean, he continued. “Jack, I mean.”
Cas said nothing, but Dean couldn’t help but feel like there was more somewhere beneath the surface, even if he didn’t want to say it. He looked… so damn sad.
“Well, we’ve broken worse rules before, right?” Instantly, he knew he’d said the wrong thing; Cas’s shoulders tensed, the furrow in his brow deepening. But still, he said nothing, so Dean pulled his head towards him and planted a kiss on his temple. “Sorry,” he mumbled, quiet, then released him and drank again. “We’ll figure it out.”
Cas made a noncommittal noise that suggested he didn’t think they would figure it out, and they sat together in aching silence. Dean was halfway through his third beer and already thinking about his fourth, which he was going to need if Cas remembered how this conversation started and was dead set on making him talk.
Almost as if he had heard Dean’s thoughts, Cas tilted his head just enough to give Dean a look from the corner of his eye. “You said I should go first, and I did,” he noted softly. “Does that mean now you’ll tell me what was so upsetting earlier?”
Dean chugged the rest of his beer and stood, wavering slightly when he got upright. Apparently not drinking for months and having angelic Grace completely clean him out made his alcohol tolerance go to shit. He headed for Sam’s room again.
“Dean,” Cas said gently, but Dean ignored him and got another beer. Put another deep scratch into the desk. He lingered there for a moment, letting the wall shield him from the look on Cas’s face.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Cas said quietly, but Dean shook his head sharply. The room took a second longer than he did to stop moving, and he almost thought better of the fourth beer. Almost.
“It just… reminded me of some stuff from a while ago. When Sam and Dad used to fight.” He took a long swig of beer, decided that standing wasn’t going to go well for him in a few minutes, and grudgingly returned to sit on the bed next to Cas. “I, uh…” He swallowed, sliding his hand through the cool condensation gathering on the bottle. “I don’t like it when people fight,” he confessed. The quiet roared in his ears, and he fumbled to fill it. “Which makes me a hypocrite, I know, because I fight with everyone, but…” He shrugged, very carefully not looking at Cas.
“What happened when Sam and your father fought?” Cas’s gaze was heavy on the side of his face.
“Nothing,” Dean said reflexively, then shook his head. “Well, I mean. It was fine. I just uh. Used to try to calm them down. Because if Dad walked out, then me and Sam would be alone for… who knows how long. Maybe just a day, maybe a week, maybe… and I’d have to figure everything out. And if Sam walked out…” He drank. “Dad would still be mad, you know?”
“And that anger was then directed at you.”
Dean hated when Cas did that, made an assumption and said it like a fact. He hated it more when Cas was right. At least he wasn’t making Dean say it, though. He drank again, disappointed and a little surprised to realize how close he was to the end of this beer.
“Dean—”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” he snapped, cutting Cas off. “It was pretty shitty, yeah, but it's done. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything, okay, I just— You asked why I was freaking out. That's why.”
“Sam will be back in the morning. I’m sure he’d come back sooner if you needed him. And I’m not angry with you.”
“I know that! I’m not stupid.” Even if hearing the words out loud did reassure some part of Dean’s brain that was still a kid trying to keep his family together. The silence threatened to grow again, so Dean muttered the first thing that came into his mind. “I can’t believe the stupid Grace took my alcohol tolerance with it when it went.”
Cas hummed. “Perhaps that’s enough for tonight, then,” he suggested.
Dean knocked back the rest of his beer and put the bottle on the bedside table. “Maybe,” he said, still feeling that old pull towards more. He let himself fall backward on the bed instead and covered his face with his hands, rubbing his fingertips into his eyes as if that would give him some relief from the roiling anxiety in him that the alcohol hadn’t been able to dampen.
The bed shifted as Cas moved, and Dean felt a touch to his elbow. “Dean,” Cas said, and when Dean didn’t uncover his face, he hesitated before continuing. “If Sam and I have a disagreement in the future, I will try not to let it escalate as this one did.”
Dean cleared his throat, which suddenly felt tight. He tried for a nod, which must have satisfied Cas, because he spoke again.
“Also, have you eaten anything tonight besides beer?” The question was delivered in the exact same tone as Cas’s last statement, and it caught Dean totally off guard.
“I, uh. No, we were going to order takeout.”
“Then you still need to do that.” Cas’s touch turned to a gentle grip on his arm, tugging him upright again.
Dean groaned, but he let Cas drag him up, dropping his hands from his face so that he could look at him. Cas’s face was soft, and his eyes were intense, even for something as mundane as dinner. Something shifted in Dean’s chest just looking at him.
“What do you want to eat?” Cas asked, but Dean didn’t really want anything at all. He wanted…
He turned and kissed Cas, just catching the corner of his mouth on the first try, then finding it fully on the second. He crowded closer, letting one hand slide into Cas’s hair while the other tucked into the trench coat and wrapped around his waist.
“Dean—” Cas tried, but Dean kissed him again. Cas leaned into it for just a moment, just long enough that Dean noticed. Then he pulled away firmly. “Food first, Dean.” Dean definitely wasn’t imagining the flush on his cheeks.
Dean kissed him once more for good measure, softly this time, and leaned his forehead against Cas’s as he finished the kiss. “Okay,” he said, then got to his feet to retrieve his phone off the desk.
There weren’t many places in town that delivered, and since Sam had taken the car, that limited their options, but within an hour, Dean had an unnecessary amount of Chinese food in front of him. He was making a dent in the fried rice when his phone pinged with a text from Sam.
Crashing at the Travelodge in Covington. Hope you and Cas are staying dry in all this rain.
Dean felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. Sam was fine. He wasn’t going to just vanish… which Dean knew, of course. But still.
Of course we are, you took the car. Dean sent the text, felt a stab of guilt, and almost immediately sent another.
We’re fine. Got chinese food & cable here’s not the worst. See you tomorrow?
Sam’s response was just an eye-rolling emoji and a thumbs up, but it was enough. Dean went back to his food, feeling like he could finally breathe again. Cas glanced over at him from his seat on the bed, eyebrow raised in question.
“Just Sam—he’ll be back in the morning.”
Cas nodded, returning his attention to the documentary on the TV. Whether he was actually watching it or not, he was at least pretending. Nice of him to let Dean eat in peace.
Dean finished what he could and shoved the rest in the minifridge, Cas’s words coming back to the front of his mind. Food first. Which meant… he went back to Cas and settled in his lap, straddling his knees and wrapping his arms around Cas’s shoulders. He was still just drunk enough to be clumsy and also to not care. Cas’s breath caught, and his hands settled on Dean’s sides to steady him. Dean smiled. “Hi,” he said quietly, leaning his forehead against Cas’s.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, voice just as soft, and kissed him slowly. Dean hummed, barely pausing to take another breath before diving back in, one hand slipping into Cas’s hair again. After a minute he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together and sighing.
“Hey, do you want to…” Dean trailed off, letting his hand slip down to the first button of Cas’s shirt.
Cas hesitated, then kissed Dean again, just a peck, and said, “The alcohol is still affecting you.”
Dean rolled his eyes, sitting back a little to give Cas a properly disparaging look. “Not much.”
“Your blood alcohol content is over 0.08%, so you are intoxicated.”
“What are you, a breathalyzer?” Dean laughed in spite of himself.
“I am capable of performing that function, yes,” Cas replied, smiling.
Dean smirked. “Yeah? What other functions are you capable of?” He slid off Cas’s lap just so he could have the leverage to push Cas flat on the bed, then crawled back on top of him for another kiss. He knew that he only got away with it because Cas was letting him, but he was letting him. Cas didn't answer the question, mostly because Dean wouldn’t stop kissing him, but Dean hadn’t really been expecting an answer anyway.
“More?” Dean was breathless from the kisses, head spinning more because of how much he wanted Cas than because of the alcohol. Cas’s hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed, but otherwise he looked unaffected. Stupid angel.
Cas hesitated, his expression doing something complicated that Dean probably couldn’t have tracked even if he was sober. “Not yet,” he finally admitted.
Dean blinked a few times, then nodded, face heating with embarrassment. Okay, that was fine. Cas had been super into everything until now, but that didn't mean he was going to—yeah. He tried to get up, but before he got very far Cas grabbed his shirt and tugged him back down to lie next to him.
“Let’s—can we just lie here for a little?” Cas sounded embarrassed too, and his cheeks were still pink when Dean lifted his head to look. “Maybe later, when you’re sober, we can… continue?” It was somewhere between a statement and a question.
Dean turned his head and stared at the side of Cas’s face. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and there was tension in the line of his jaw. “I’m not drunk drunk,” he said. “It was a couple of beers.”
“I know,” Cas said, and Dean waited for a long time, thinking he was going to continue—explain or something—but Cas was silent and still. Even his chest had quit rising and falling, which was honestly unsettling even though he knew Cas didn’t need to breathe. He was… waiting, Dean realized. Probably for Dean to say or do something stupid like he always did.
Dean took a deep breath and propped himself back up on one elbow, reaching with his free hand to cup Cas’s cheek and turn his head toward him. Even then, Cas’s gaze skittered away from his, landing on his chin, his lips, his nose—anywhere but his eyes. “Hey,” Dean said softly. “No rush.” And finally Cas lifted his eyes to Dean’s, that old searing blue that Dean couldn’t look away from. He lingered there, just looking at Cas, for a long time before smoothing his thumb over Cas’s cheekbone and settling his head down onto Cas’s shoulder. Cas’s arm came up around him instantly, pulling him closer, almost too tight. Then, he relaxed, and Dean felt his chest start moving under him again.
They stayed like that for a long time, listening to the road noises that murmured through from outside. “You don’t have to go anywhere tonight, do you?” Dean asked eventually, breaking the quiet. He didn’t think he could stand it if Cas had to go, and maybe he sounded needy or insecure or whatever, but there was just enough of a buzz left from the beer that he didn’t care.
“I’ll stay,” Cas murmured, running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “All night.”