Work Text:
Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve …
Fuck I’m hungry, Dean thinks as he leans back from his keyboard and stretches, raising his arms over his head and groaning a little when he feels the pull of his back muscles after being hunched over the last few hours. He glances at the clock and realizes that it’s almost five o’clock. No wonder he’s starving - he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast and that was a single cold strawberry Pop Tart.
He pushes his chair back and stands before making his way out of his office and down the hall of his bungalow towards the kitchen. He opens his fridge he takes note of the few items inside; an open container of chicken fried rice from the other night, a half a gallon of milk - probably expired, some slices American cheese, mustard and a few other odds and ends that he could never even in his wildest author’s imagination combine to make a concoction that would be even close to resembling something edible.
Now what? He thinks as he glances out the bay window into his backyard and notes how the light is already leaving the sky, casting a weird hue through the trees and onto his patio. It gets dark so early now that it’s the - what day was it anyway? He pulls his phone out of his front pocket and sees that it’s the 24th. Fuck. It's the end of December. How the hell did that happen?
Dean shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Probably has something to do with the deadline for his latest manuscript looming over his head - no thanks to his agent, Chuck, who loves to ride his ass like he doesn’t already know that his readers are chomping at the bit to find out if his handsome male protagonist will finally end up with the man he has been pining over for the last 2 novels.
His stomach growls and snaps him back to reality. Ok, think Winchester otherwise you’re just gonna stand here and starve to death in your own kitchen.
His first instinct is to just DoorDash something from some fast-food place down the road but the thought of the leftover Chinese in the fridge churns something in his stomach and he changes his mind. Not to mention that it’s Christmas Eve, not that he really celebrates or anything anymore since his little brother Sammy up and moved to California and decided to stay after he graduated to be with his girlfriend, but maybe he should do something a little more festive. Hell, maybe he should just run to the store and get enough shit to last for a few days - maybe until the end of the year - that way he won’t have to think about it again - at least not for a while.
After a few seconds of contemplation, he pulls on his jacket and reaches for his keys laying on the counter next to the coffee maker that’s still warm from the last pot of black gold he made to keep himself going. He makes his way out his back door and down the small concrete walkway noting that the snow is starting to fall as he arrives at his car, a 1967 black Chevy Impala that his dad left to him when he died.
“Alright Baby,” he says to her as he opens his door and climbs in, “I promise it’s a short trip. The snow’s not gonna be a problem.”
He puts the key in the ignition and turns and her engine roars to life. He eases her out of the driveway and coasts down the road in the direction of the closest Kroger. He’s surprised when he pulls in to see that there must be a lot of other people with the same idea as him; get the necessities. Either that, or they’re out shopping for last minute ingredients for Christmas dinner they forgot to pick up.
He parks out by the road and pulls his coat closed as he makes his way across the parking lot and passes through the sliding doors. He takes one of the last few carts left in the entryway and pushes it past the gates into the store.
Inside the lights are too bright in comparison to the darkening skies outside and it takes him a minute to adjust - his eyes blinking a few times before he starts towards Aisle 1. He should’ve come with a list or at least a plan - but at this point it’s too late - so he starts adding random things to his cart, a loaf of bread, a bag of powdered donuts, English muffins. He steers towards the produce and adds grapes and oranges before strolling up and down the aisles adding more and more to his growing cache.
He tries to keep his gaze down, avoiding eye contact with everyone that he walks past hoping that he’s not recognized by any random fans wanting an autograph or a selfie or worse - by people he went to high school with now that he's back in the town he grew up in. Nothing worse than running into the chick you screwed under the bleachers Sophomore year while her jock boyfriend was out on the field scoring in a whole different way. Of course, running into said boyfriend would probably be even worse.
Dean weaves through the aisles and makes it to the frozen section, grabbing a couple pizzas before deciding to go ahead and get some ice cream too. He rounds the cart to the next aisle and his heart drops. No fucking way he thinks to himself as he stares at a man with mess of dark hair that he would recognize anywhere.
I could skip the ice cream he debates as he stares at the man with his back to him. Skip a few aisles and grab some milk and shit and go the fuck home but for some reason, his feet do not obey his brain, and he finds himself moving forward - towards his ex - towards the man who broke his heart into a million unfixable pieces after college graduation.
As Dean gets closer, he expects the man to move - to see Dean before he reaches him and turn and walk the other way - but he doesn’t. He doesn’t look up from where he’s intently reading the back of a container of ice cream - Haagen-Dazs - Dean can see when he gets close enough to the man, concentration evident on his face.
Without thinking Dean reaches out and touches the man’s arm, his hand landing on the sleeve of his tan coat. There’s a moment where the man doesn’t react but then his eyes shift from the pint in his hand to his arm where Dean’s hand sits. His eyes then slide slowly up Dean’s arm, his shoulder, his neck and then up to his bearded face. There’s a hint of confusion on the man's face, his head cocked to the side and his brows furrowed before realization finally hits him.
"Dean?" the man says in disbelief, his blue eyes shining just like they always used to.
Dean nods, tightening his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Dean,” the man says again, surer than the first time.
“Heya Cas,” Dean smiles softly.
“Oh my god. Dean,” Cas says once more, shaking his head before moving to hug him. When Cas moves, the door to the ice cream case that was propped against his shoulder slams shut behind him and several bottles of Hershey’s chocolate syrup bounce out of their display suction cupped to the glass and hit the floor and go scattering, one of which slides and hits a woman's boot a few feet away.
The look of mortification on Cas’ face is enough to break the tension and for Dean to bust out in a fit of laughter with Cas following behind, doubling over with his hands on his knees, the pint still in his hand. By the time the two men can control themselves they both have tears streaming down their cheeks and are gasping for air.
And we laughed until we cried ...
“Jesus Cas, you always did know how to get all the attention,” Dean goads as he wipes his cheeks and then leans down and picks up the bottles, putting them back in their shelf.
“I feel so stupid,” Cas says covering his face with his hand.
“Don’t,” Dean adamantly shakes his head, still grinning. “It’s just like old times.” He doesn’t realize that he said it out loud.
Cas nods.
“Well, I have a few more things to get ...” Dean says as he points over his shoulder, giving both himself and Cas an out, trying to keep the awkwardness to a minimum.
“Okay," Cas nods, but he doesn't stop staring at Dean. "Or I could go with you,” he offers, his voice hopeful.
Dean nods in response. “Sure.”
Silently they both begin to move up and down the rest of the aisles, together but separate, as Dean tries to focus on what else he might need and fails miserably when he can't concentrate on anything but the man only a few inches from him. After slowly making his way down the dairy aisle and grabbing a few items Dean decides to just cut his losses and heads for the check out. Cas follows.
They get in line behind an older woman who has quite a few more items than Dean does, and they settle in. The conveyor moves slowly forward, and Dean takes his time loading the empty space with his commodities.
Cas stares at Dean for a long minute before he finally opens his mouth. “So how are you Dean?” he asks.
“Good,” Dean nods. “I’m good.”
“Good,” Cas nods back.
“You?”
“Good,” Cas returns. “In town for the holidays.”
“I see.”
“What about you?”
“What?”
“You in town for the holidays?”
“Oh, uh, no. I live here actually,” Dean answers keeping his eyes down. He's finished unloading his groceries, so he focuses on picking at the remnants of a sticker on the handle of his cart.
“Oh,” Cas answers, surprise in his voice.
Dean could leave it; he should leave it. “I moved back after Dad died,” Dean explains. “Figured Mom could use the help and the company.”
“I heard about your father," Cas says softly. "And how is Mary?” Cas asks as he watches the woman in front of Dean swipe her card in the reader.
“She passed,” Dean says quietly. “About two years ago.”
“Oh Dean,” Cas returns sadly. “I’m so sorry.”
Dean nods a thank you and greets the cashier as she begins scanning his order. Once Dean’s groceries are bagged and back in his cart, he stands off to the side out of the way and waits for Cas to check out with the few items that he has.
“So, where you parked?” Dean asks as they walk out the front doors and back out into the snow.
“I’m right here,” Cas motions to a light blue Prius parked only a couple of spots down from the front of the building.
“Nice,” Dean nods. “I’m way in the boonies.”
Cas chuckles. “You always did like to keep her away from the crowd."
“Yeah, well, tonight I didn’t have a choice," Dean chuckles as he motions to the other cars in the parking lot.
They walk to Cas’ car and Dean watches as he puts his bags in the trunk. He then closes the trunk and fumbles around with his hand in his pocket searching for his keys when Dean reaches out his hand.
“Cas, wait,” he says to him.
Cas gives him a questioning look.
“Do you wanna catch up? Like go grab a beer or something?”
Cas hesitates. He looks at his watch and contemplates. “I could go for a beer,” he agrees as he pulls out his phone and texts someone.
“Awesome,” Dean grins as he watches Cas slip his phone back in his pocket. “C’mon.”
Cas follows him to his Impala and Dean unlocks the passenger door and prompts Cas to get in. Cas nods and slides into the front passenger seat and once he’s settled Dean closes the door. He quickly pops the trunk and tosses his bags inside before he closes the lid and pushes the cart into the corral. He then pulls open the newly unlocked driver’s side door - thanks to Cas - and slides in behind the wheel.
“Where to?”
Cas shrugs. “You're driving so it’s totally up to you.”
Dean grins and fires up the engine, using the wipers to brush off the little amount of snow that’s accumulated on the windshield before he puts the car in gear and backs out of the parking space. They pass a few places Dean has a tendency to haunt, and they find that each of them is closed.
“Hmm ... strange,” Dean breathes.
“What?” Cas asks stiffly from the passenger seat.
“Nothing’s open.”
“Probably has something to do with the holiday,” Cas offers.
“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “but wouldn’t you think spending a shit-ton of time with your extended family make you want to find someplace away from them to drink?”
“Good point,” Cas agrees with a smile.
“Do you have any ideas, or do you want to call it a night?” Dean asks as they sit at a red light.
Went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar ...
Cas sits quietly for a moment, his face illuminated red, before he finally answers. “Can we just grab a six pack or something somewhere and find a quiet place to drink it?” he asks, his eyebrows raised as if worried about Dean’s answer.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Dean smiles. He pulls back into Kroger’s parking lot and tells Cas to hang tight. He runs back into the store and grabs a cardboard container of Cosmic Cowboy longnecks and heads to the self-checkout.
Luckily the line moves fast and the woman at the front bypasses the age verification quickly and he’s back out the door and back to Cas in record time. He laughs as he slides back into the car and dusts the snow out of his hair, setting the container between them.
“So, I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but my house is just a few blocks from here,” he tells Cas. “We don’t have to go in or anything, but I would feel better sitting in my driveway drinking this than I would sitting here in the middle of a public parking lot with the chance of catching an open container charge. I got a reputation to uphold, ya know.”
Cas takes a moment to think and then nods his head. “Okay,” he agrees. "Should I take my car or -?"
"Leave it," Dean tells him. "I'll drive you back when you're ready."
Cas nods. "Sounds like a plan."
They drive in silence, Cas’ hands in his lap as he watches the scenery out his window until they pull into Dean’s driveway, driving back to the parking pad, well off the road. Dean puts the Impala in park and kills the engine before he turns to Cas.
“Seriously, we can sit in here like old times when we used to go parking - uh, not like I want to park or anything - I just - fuck - you know what I mean,” Dean blushes. “I mean, we can hang out back here or we can go in. It’s totally up to you.”
Before Cas can answer, Dean continues.
“Or better yet, we can hang out in the house for a few minutes, and I can get a fire going in the firepit and then we can hang out back there,” Dean points to his setup in the backyard. “I mean, unless you need to get back to someone or something,” he says, looking at Cas with a hopeful look on his face.
“Dean,” Cas tries to reassure him, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. We can just go in the house. It’s freezing out here and with the wind and the snow I’m not sure how much good a fire would do anyway.”
Dean nods. “Yeah ... okay. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Cas looks at him sincerely.
Cas offers to help with the bags, and they carry Dean’s groceries in through the back door and into the kitchen. Dean nods a thank you and offers Cas a bottle and a place to sit at the table while he works on putting his groceries away.
Cas accepts both with a nod. He slips his coat off and hangs it on the back of the chair and twists off the cap to his bottle as he sits perched on the edge of the seat. “Nice place,” he offers.
“Thanks.”
“Is your family somewhere else for the holiday?” he asks as he looks around the space.
“Sam’s in California with Jessica and Bobby’s around.”
“Oh,” Cas contemplates. “What about your family Dean? Where’s your spouse and kids?”
“Uh,” Dean hesitates, “I don't ...”
“Oh,” Cas nods, looking down at the bottle in his hands. “Sorry - I just assumed.”
“Yeah, no, it's okay,” Dean blushes before he goes back to his bags. “So, what about you? You and Mitch ever ...” Dean asks as he begins unloading his paper bags onto the counter, expertly avoiding looking at Cas at all costs.
“Mick?”
“Mick. Sorry,” Dean corrects himself.
“Yeah,” Cas responds quietly as he gets up and moves through the space to the living room. “About five years ago.”
“And how is he?” Dean asks hollowly. He doesn't really want an answer, but he knows he should be polite.
“He’s good,” Cas answers as he scopes out Dean’s bookshelf.
“Good,” Dean nods. “Is he here with you or -?”
“He’s home. In Ireland.”
“Oh,” Dean says, surprised. “I didn’t realize you’d moved to -"
“We didn’t,” Cas shakes his head as he turns back to Dean. “He got offered a job there. He’s been there for a month or so.”
“And you didn’t ...?”
Cas shakes his head. “It’s a temporary position so we didn’t see the point in uprooting the both of us if he was just going to come back in a few months.”
“Oh,” Dean nods. “I see.” He folds his bags and places them under the sink before he takes his own beer and follows Cas into the living room.
"How did you know about him?"
"Charlie," Dean says.
"Ah," Cas nods.
"Yeah," Dean chuckles. "If you ever need to stalk anyone - she's better than the FBI."
"You stalking me Winchester?" Cas asks, mischief written all over his face.
"What? No - just was curious a few years back. She saw you with him on Instagram and told me about it. I don't do any of that social media shit."
"But you have an official page?"
"How do you know that? You stalking me Novak?" Dean grins as he throws the light-hearted accusation back in Cas' face.
Cas smiles. "Maybe."
Dean's heart skips a beat. Oh shit.
“So, you never ...?” Cas asks as he looks at all the pictures of Dean’s family on the shelves, his mother and father, his brother Sam, even his close friends that they all used to hang out with - Garth, Benny, Charlie and Jo, even finding one of himself and Dean taken right after college graduation before things went to shit.
“Nope,” Dean’s lips pop on the ‘p’. “Never found anyone after you ... after we ...” Dean says as he motions to the picture in question.
“Oh,” the surprise in Castiel’s voice hard to miss.
“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Was in a dark place for a while. Then I was busy with getting established in New York and finding an agent and a publisher and everything. That took up a lot of my time for a while, then Dad died and well ..."
“I’m sorry,” Cas looks at him. “I had no idea.”
"How could you Cas?" Dean looks back.
"You knew about Mick," Cas counters.
"Yeah, well, I never said I was anything other than a masochist," Dean returns, watching as Cas' mouth turns into a small frown. “But anyway," he says breaking the trance between them, "how about a toast?” He holds up his bottle trying desperately to take the focus off of himself. “To ... innocence.”
“To innocence?” Cas questions as he holds up his bottle for a second.
“Yeah, cause boy if I knew then what I know now ...”
“Yeah,” Cas sighs, tapping his bottle against Dean’s before he takes a drink. “If only.”
Dean watches as Cas walks down the bookshelves, his hand brushing lightly against the spines of his books as he goes.
"So how is Sam?"
"He's good," Dean's face lights up as he thinks about his brother. "He's a big shot lawyer now. Married Jessica a few years back and they're expecting their second baby in the spring."
"That's great," Cas smiles.
"What about your brother?"
"Gabe's good. Finished culinary school and now has his own bakery. It's about 20 minutes from here."
"It is? I gotta check it out sometime - especially if he makes pie."
"He does," Cas nods. "He makes all of your favorites. Apple, pecan, cherry, you name it."
Dean makes a mental note to find out where Gabriel's bakery is located before Cas leaves. He goes to take a drink out of his bottle and notices its empty. "Want another?" he asks as he heads back to the kitchen.
"Sure," Cas nods as he checks his watch again.
"Awesome," Dean says as he picks up Cas' empty bottle and takes it with him to the kitchen. He sets the empty bottles in the sink and grabs two more. He twists off the caps and tosses them in the trash before he moves back to the man in the living room. He hands Cas one of the bottles and takes a long pull from his own. He stares at Cas for a moment, debating, before he finally opens his mouth again.
“It’s really nice seeing you again Cas,” Dean says to the man that he’s loved for so long. “I mean it.”
Cas blushes. “It’s good to see you too Dean. I have to be honest; I was apprehensive about coming here but this surprisingly isn’t as weird as I thought it was going to be.”
Dean chuckles. “Yeah, well, the evening is still young,” he says as he watches Cas pull one of his copies of the first book of his newest series off of his bookshelf.
“Still,” Cas shrugs, "it's nice."
"Yeah, it is," Dean sighs. How many times had he imagined this very scenario in his head where Cas is somehow standing in his living room and not a couple thousand miles away from him living with - and now married to - another man. if only there was a way to preserve this moment right now so he could look back on it and smile.
"How about another toast? To now? To right now? To us being in this room together and actually being able to speak without yelling or crying or any of the other bullshit that tore us apart?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Cas agrees after a moment.
“To now.”
“To now,” Cas repeats as he clinks the necks of their bottles together and then takes another drink. Cas then sets his bottle down and opens the book.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now ...
They stand quietly for a while, Dean studying Cas’ face as he flips through his book, his long fingers gliding through the pages, his blue eyes intently staring down. He skims a few lines and then flips to another page before doing the same thing over and over again.
“It’s us, isn’t it?” he questions. “Michael and Emmanuel? I've had a suspicion that it was, but now that I'm here and I can ask you ...”
“You’ve read it?” Dean asks, his voice surprised.
“Mmm,” Cas nods. “I’ve been following along with your career. I've read all of your books."
"Really?"
"Really," Cas smiles. "You've really made a name for yourself Dean. It's kinda hard not to notice when your face is plastered on posters in every bookstore I go to."
Dean blushes. "It's not that big of a deal."
"Yes, it is," Cas looks at him sincerely. "New York Times best seller list? The Goodreads awards? C'mon Dean, don't be so modest. I'm really proud of you. You're living out your dream."
"I'm living out one of them," Dean says before taking another drink. "You've really read my books?"
Cas nods.
"Wow," Dean shakes his head. "Somewhere I guess I'd hoped but ..."
"I particularly love this one - your Hunters series," Cas looks to Dean as he holds up the book currently in his hand. "There's something so familiar about it - particularly the freckled, brown-haired man with green eyes wanting so desperately to tell his dark-haired, blue-eyed counterpart that he’s in love with him that made me think it was us.” Cas looks up at Dean. “So, is it? Us?”
Dean doesn’t know how to respond. How pathetic would it be of him to stand here and tell the man that he’s loved for over a decade that, yes, I’ve wanted you back for so long that I decided to write a book series about it for the entire world to read in hopes to somehow speak it into existence and win you back?
“It is,” he says quietly, his throat suddenly dry. “I’m sorry if that’s weird. I swear I tried Cas. I really did. But when we - when you left me - the story was just in me, dying to get out - so I had to write it down. Granted, it took a lot of convincing for me to be brave enough to show it to my agent. I thought he was going to tell me I was insane but instead he really pushed for me to finish it. Fuck, he’s still pushing me,” he says as he thinks about his looming deadline.
“Does he know?” Cas asks.
“Know what?” Dean questions. “That it’s based off of two very real people? One of which happens to be the author himself?” Dean ponders for a moment. “I think so. I mean I’ve told him the basics about my past. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t teaming up with someone with a ton of skeletons in his closet or something. So, I would assume as soon as he saw that the main character was basically me, he figured it out.”
Dean watches as Cas flips a couple more pages and then goes still, his hand lying over an illustration of the two ‘fictional’ men in question standing close to each other, the distance between them nearly nonexistent - much like the way the real men are standing at this very moment. He slowly traces his fingers along the figures.
“I married Mick because he was there,” Cas whispers so quietly that Dean almost doesn’t hear him. “I married him because I was getting older, and I knew that I had fucked up and I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life.”
Dean swallows. “Cas, you don’t have to tell me this.”
“He treats me well,” Cas continues, sincerity in his eyes. “He does. He keeps a roof over our heads, and he supports me in whatever I want to do. He’s a good man, Dean. He deserves so much more than me because I wish - I wish that I could say that things are perfect between us and that I’m in love with him ... but I’m not. Maybe I was in the beginning but ... no, I don’t think I was even then. He’s not ... he isn’t ...” The word ‘you’ is unspoken but hangs in the air as Cas looks up to stare at Dean.
Dean nods. He gets it. It’s why he never tried to find someone after Cas left him. No one will ever compare to what he and Cas had. To what they were. He wants to reach out and touch him, to tell him that it could be that way again between them, but he knows it wouldn’t be true. So much time has passed - there’s no way they’re the same people they were back then. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe there could be a way for them to be friends after this chance meeting. Just maybe ...
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how ...
Dean clears his throat. “I've thought about you so many times over the years," Dean tells him. "I've wondered what you're doing and who you're with and what you look like now ... I've wondered if you still drive a shitty Honda and if your hair still curled on your forehead and if your voice had gotten any deeper. It's funny because all of that wondering and while I’ve gotten older and grayer, you look exactly the same.”
Cas smiles softly, doubt in his eyes.
"I mean it Cas; you look almost exactly the same," Dean reaches out to brush a finger across Cas' cheek but stops himself before he makes contact. "Your eyes are still as blue as they were the day I met you."
"Dean," Cas shakes his head. "You don't have to -"
"No, I know," Dean returns, dropping his hand. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just - I just forgot for a second there."
"It's okay Dean," Cas looks at him sadly. "I get it."
Dean turns and goes to sit on the coffee table. "So, what are you doing these days?" Dean asks, trying to change the subject.
"I'm teaching high school."
"You are? What are you teaching?"
"History, ironically," Cas tells him.
Dean chuckles. "Figures."
"Let me tell you, teaching high school is just as bad as actually being in high school."
"Yeah, I bet," Dean grins as he tries to imagine Cas standing at the front of a classroom full of students intently listening to him talk about the Roman Empire.
After a few minutes of silence Cas pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts someone again before slipping his phone back into his jeans. Knowing where it's probably heading, Dean gets up and makes his way into the kitchen with his bottle and stares out the back window.
“I should probably be getting back ...” Cas says quietly from behind Dean as he sets his empty bottle down on the kitchen counter.
Dean sighs when he looks up at the clock and sees that it’s almost eleven. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Cas says to him, taking hold of his arm and squeezing gently. “I think we both needed this.”
“Yeah,” Dean nods, resigned. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The beer was empty, and our tongues were tired,
And running out of things to say ...
Dean watches as Cas takes his coat from the back of the chair and slides it on. He then slowly does the same thing and grabs his keys off the counter. They step out into the snow, their surroundings silent, and they walk to the Impala and climb inside. Dean starts the engine, backs out of the driveway and heads back to Kroger for the third time.
He pulls into the space beside Cas' Prius and puts Baby in park. They both sit quietly as they listen to the engine idol.
"I had a really good time tonight," Cas tells him as he stares down at his hands in his lap.
Dean nods as he stares out the windshield, afraid that his voice will betray him if he speaks.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the way things ended for us," Cas says as he finally turns to Dean.
"Me too," Dean agrees quietly, as he fights back tears. "So, uh, can I give you my number?" he asks as he stares at Cas.
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Cas answers.
Dean nods sadly as he chews on the inside of his cheek.
Cas looks at him for a long moment, contemplating, before he leans across the bench and presses his lips to Dean's. Dean barely has time to register what has happened before Cas pulls away and leans back in his seat. He stares deeply into Dean's eyes before his hand reaches for the handle. "Goodbye Dean."
Dean doesn't say anything as Cas gets out of the car and turns to get into his. He watches as Cas opens the door and climbs in, as he starts his car and puts on his seatbelt. Without thinking he puts Baby into drive and swings her around in the parking lot to go towards the other exit, so he doesn't have to watch Cas go.
Dean’s heart pangs when he chances a look in the rearview and sees Cas' taillights light up as he goes to put his car in gear. Dean is about to watch the love of his life leave him for the second time. He wants so desperately to go to him, to call out to him, to stop him from leaving, but he knows that Cas isn’t his anymore. He belongs to a man a half a world away on another continent. A man that Cas said he wasn’t in love with. A man that Cas insinuated was a fill-in for him.
What are you doing? He thinks to himself. Why are you letting him go??
Without thinking he cuts the wheel and heads back to where Cas is. He makes it back to his space and throws the car into park and blindly reaches for the handle of the door and scrambles out of Baby, not realizing that Cas had already pulled out of his space and was heading for the exit.
He can see Cas across the way, the taillights of the Prius illuminated as he reaches the stop light. “Cas!” Dean calls to him, but Cas doesn’t hear him. “Cas!” he yells louder as he waves his arms and tries to get Cas' attention, his feet slipping on the snowy surface.
He stops when he realizes that he isn’t going to get to him in time before the light changes and he watches as Cas drives out of the exit of Kroger’s parking lot. He doesn’t stop watching until Cas' car is out of sight, fat snowflakes dusting the shoulders of dark coat and hair as he breathes out slowly and tries not to cry as he slowly makes his way back to his car.
Just for a moment, I was back at school
and felt that old familiar pain ...
Dean turns and heads back to the Impala, the quietness of the snow falling around him giving him an empty feeling. He climbs back behind the wheel and puts her back in drive and slowly pulls out of the parking lot and heads back towards his house.
He arrives home safely and parks Baby in her spot at the back of his driveway and makes his way in the back door where only a few hours before Cas had been with him, helping him carry in his groceries. He was still hungry, only having just now realized that he still hadn’t eaten anything.
He stomps his boots off on the mat by the door and takes off his coat and hangs it on its hook and goes into the kitchen. He wants to text Sam and tell him what just happened, it may be almost midnight in Kansas but in California it’s only ten. He thinks better of it when he remembers that Jessica's parents were spending the night.
Instead, he makes his way through the house, turning off lights as he goes. When he reaches the living room, he sees that the book that Cas had been looking at is still sitting on the coffee table where he left it. He picks it up and rubs a hand across the front cover before he gently places it back on the shelf where it belongs.
The lump that has been lodged in his throat for the last half hour or so finally gives way and Dean begins to sob in the middle of his living room. If there were any question as to whether or not his characters were going to get their happily ever after in the final book of his series tonight was more of a wakeup call to himself than it would be to his fans. Not every story has a perfect happy ending, and this one wasn’t going to be any different.
After a while Dean wipes his face with the sleeve of his flannel and turns out the rest of the lights. Tonight, he’s going to bed hungry.
Dean wakes with a start when his cell starts ringing beside his head. At first, he can’t remember why he went to bed fully dressed, or why his eyes are puffy, and his head feels like it’s about to explode from all the pressure inside of it but then it hits him like a ton of bricks: Kroger. Cas. Cas leaving again. 'Goodbye Dean' still ringing in his ears.
He swats around for the phone, hoping to silence the ringer but he sees that it’s Chuck on the line and decides he better answer it otherwise he’ll just keep calling.
“Merry Christmas!” a cheery voice says to him before he has a chance to say anything.
“Mmph,” Dean manages as he wipes at his eyes with the side of his hand.
“Dean? You there?”
“Yeah,” Dean grunts. “I’m here.”
“Tie one on last night?”
“Somethin’ like that,” Dean groans as he stretches.
“Oh, well, just checking in with you to say Merry Christmas and to make sure you’re still on track - only five days to go!” Chuck says with too much cheer in his voice for Dean to want to deal with. “How’s the writing going?”
“It’s going.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to do with your predicament?”
“I have actually,” Dean responds. “I figured it out last night.”
“Oh. Well good!” Chuck returns.
“I’m gonna -”
“No! No! Don’t tell me!” Chuck stops him. “I want to be surprised. I’ll read it when you send me the manuscript.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!” he answers. “You know I’m your biggest fan and supporter Dean. I don’t want to influence that creative mind of yours. You get it submitted, and I’ll read it on the first.”
“Okay,” Dean mumbles.
“Alright Dean, well I won’t keep ya. I hope you have a good day and I’ll be in touch later in the week to nail down some final details.”
“Okay,” Dean nods.
“Merry Christmas Dean.”
“Merry Christmas Chuck.” Dean says as he hangs up.
After a few minutes Dean finally musters up the energy to get out of bed and makes himself take a shower. After, dressed in a white t-shirt, hot dog pajama pants and a gray robe he makes his way into the kitchen to brew some coffee. He’s kind-of hungry but the pit in his stomach prevents him from even thinking about making anything for breakfast.
He goes down the hallway and turns on his computer and stares at the last paragraph that he wrote before he decided to get something to eat the night before, the cursor blinking, waiting for him to decide whether or not he’s going to allow his characters to have their happy ending or not. At this point, he doesn't know. As much as he wants to give the people what they want - his heart just isn't in it.
Not knowing what to do, he makes his way back to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee but stops shy of the kitchen when he hears a knock on his front door. He walks through the living room to the door and looks through the peep hole. He doesn't see anyone standing outside but he does see a delivery van at the end of his driveway. He opens the door and sees a pie box sitting on his welcome mat with a note attached. He bends down and picks up the pie before he turns and makes his way back into the house, closing the door behind him. He takes the pie to the kitchen and sets it on the counter. He picks up the envelope and pulls out the card.
This one will be your new favorite.
C-
Dean can feel his heart pounding in his ears as he drops the card and runs back to the door. He pulls it open and goes to run out onto the porch to see if the delivery truck is still in his driveway. It's not.
"FUCK!" he exclaims as he turns to go back into the house to see if he can figure out where the pie came from. He knows it has to be one of Gabriel's, but he forgot to get the details from Cas before he left.
"Dean?" he hears from behind him as he goes to step inside.
“Cas?” Dean asks as he turns back and sees the dark-haired man standing in front of him on his porch looking like he slept about as well as Dean did. "How are you here right now?"
"Gabe dropped me off," Cas answers simply. "I have a question for you."
"Okay?"
“Do you think we could've made it?” Cas asks.
“What?” Dean returns, confused.
“Us. Do you think we could've made it?”
“Cas, buddy, I’m not following -”
“He knows,” Cas offers, his breath thick in the cold morning air.
"I don't -"
“Mick. He knows that I’m not in love with him. That’s why he’s in Ireland and I’m here. I didn’t tell you the full story last night,” Cas says, shivering.
“Come in,” Dean says as he moves to the side to allow Cas to pass him.
Cas nods and takes the offer, moving quickly through the door so that Dean can shut it behind him.
“Okay,” Dean says as he turns to face Cas. “Repeat what you just said.”
“I didn’t tell you everything last night,” Cas answers, staring into his eyes. “Mick and I - we aren’t just living apart for a few months. We split up. We’re getting a divorce. He moved back to Ireland and I’m staying here with my brother until things are settled and I get back on my feet.”
“Oh,” Dean breathes, his heart pounding. OH.
"That's who I was texting last night," Cas tells him. "Gabriel. Not Mick. Mick and I haven't spoken since I served him divorce papers six weeks ago."
Dean nods as he tries to keep his face neutral.
“I had been thinking about trying to figure out a way to get in touch with you," Cas continues, "and last night just feels like fate to me. Like it was meant to be."
"But last night you said -"
"I know what I said," Cas smiles sadly. "I was scared that it was just the memory of us that was fueling my feelings, but I went home and talked to Gabriel, and he basically told me to get my head out of my ass. So, I’m asking you again,” Cas says as he takes a step closer to Dean, reaching out and placing his hands tentatively on Dean's sides. “Do you think that we could've made it? That we could make it?”
Dean smiles softly. “I never thought that we couldn’t.”
ONE YEAR LATER
"Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you so much for coming out tonight to celebrate the release of the final book in the Hunter's series - one that I'm sure many of you are itching to get your grubby little hands on. And while I won't tell you how it ends," Chuck says to the crowd seated in front of him, "I will say that I think you're all going to be surprised. And now for the man of the hour - Dean Winchester!"
The crowd claps and cheers when Dean walks out from behind the curtains covering the back room he's been waiting in. He waves before taking his seat in front of the sea of fans that have gathered in the largeish space. He chuckles when he hears a woman close to the front whisper 'oh my god, he's so hot' to someone close to her right as the cheering dies down.
"To parrot what Chuck just said - thank you all for taking time out of your day to come see me today," Dean begins. "It really means a lot to me. As many of you know this is the final installment in my Hunter's series - but don't think that I don't have more in store for Michael and Emmanuel in a future series."
A murmur runs through the crowd.
"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Dean smiles.
He opens his book to a marked page and begins to read a passage - one where Michael and Emmanuel are finally getting a moment to themselves. Dean stops reading before they can find out whether or not the two end up together. Once he's finished reading, Chuck opens the floor for questions.
Dean answers the first few easily - an aspiring writer wants to know how easy it is to get published - someone wants to know how he comes up with his creatures for his books - someone wants to know if he'll ever write a novel with Christmas as the theme. He calls on the next person with their hand up, a chipper woman with blonde hair who introduces herself as Donna, who asks: "Is it true that the characters of Michael and Emmanuel are based off of you and an old flame?"
Dean smiles at the question. He knew one day someone would have the balls to actually come out and ask him.
"It is true," he tells her. "I wrote myself as Michael and I wrote an old boyfriend as Emmanuel."
"What happened?" a voice to Dean's right asks.
"We'd broken up right after college and I took it pretty hard. I'd never gotten over him so, I found it cathartic to write him into my story. I was initially going to kill him off in the first book, but Chuck told me it was a bad idea." The crowd laughs. "It was honestly never my intention for these books to see the light of day but after a few years had passed I knew I needed to do something with them or it was going to eat a hole in me until I did," Dean tells the crowd. "And here we are."
"Does he know?" someone in the crowd asks.
"He does," Dean smiles. "He'd actually read the books before I had a chance to tell him about them."
"Who is he?" a man asks.
"His name is Castiel and he's sitting right back there," Dean points towards the back of the room where Cas is sitting with Sam and Charlie. Everyone shifts in their chairs to get a good view of Cas who just smiles and gives a small wave.
"Whoa," someone in the crowd says.
"Is he single?" someone else asks.
Dean chuckles. "Sorry ladies and gentlemen but he's not single," he tells the crowd as he holds up his left hand and wiggles his fingers for everyone to see his new ring. "He is very much taken."