Chapter Text
(art by angelwhoisinloveiwithyou)
They met online. On a dating site, no less.
At first, Dean immediately rejected the idea of joining an online dating website—he was a fairly good-looking guy, completely capable of finding dates on his own—but Sam constantly reminded him that he wasn't getting any younger, and that the people he picked up in bars weren't really long-term relationship material.
Dean usually couldn't care less about actual relationships, but he signed up for dateangels.com so that he could get his brother off his back. He filled out his profile with the minimal amount of information—Username: Impala67, Name: Dean, Age: 29, Interested In: Men & Women, Hobbies: cars & food—and uploaded a picture from his phone as his default picture.
He forgot about his account for a while, not logging in or checking his inbox or browsing his Match List. He frequently hooked up with people at the local bar, only a few blocks away from the house where he lived with Sam. Sure, they don't last long, or develop into anything deep, but Dean didn't feel he needed the romantic connection or anything serious. All he needed was his car and his brother and the occasional fuck.
Or so he thought.
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Dean had a message. Possibly from an interested party. 'Who would be interested in me?' Dean thought; he didn't exactly set up his profile to be the most appealing character, even though everything he put on there was true. Maybe they were just attracted to his profile photograph. Dean had to admit, he’s pretty fucking sexy.
The message was from a user named 'nerdytr3nchcoat.' Dean huffed at the strange username, rolling his eyes, but clicked the link to his profile. Nerdytr3nchcoat was a 32 year old man named Castiel, whose profile had just as much personal information as Dean's. 'Interested In: Men & Women, Hobbies: Books, work' was all that was written in the info boxes. Castiel's profile picture was a terribly taken photo of a man with dark messy hair, or 'sex hair' as Dean’s mind would describe it, vivid blue eyes, wearing a suit, an askew blue tie, and an unbuttoned tan trenchcoat. Dean would also admit, horrible flash photography aside, the man was kinda hot.
The message itself was short and to the point.
'Hello Dean,
My name is Castiel, and I would like to get to know you better. Please let me know.
+Castiel'
Dean scoffed at it. This was probably just one of those mass cut and paste messages that people send out on these sites to get a large pool of respondents. Even on a dating site, he still got spam mail. He deleted the message without a second thought.
But only a week later, Dean got another message from Castiel.
'Dear Dean,
I sent you a message seven days ago, but I don't know if you received it. I would like to get to know you.
Please let me know.
+Castiel'
Dean considered the message. This time, it didn't seem like it was copied and pasted. Perhaps this guy was actually sincere in wanting to get to know Dean. Clicking reply and opening up a new message box, he decided to send Castiel a message back; it couldn't hurt to have a little chat with this guy, even though Dean wasn’t really interested in anything.
And if he didn't, Castiel might keep sending him messages.
The message he wrote in return was in the same style: straight and to the point, with no fluff added.
'Hey Castiel,
Sure, what would you like to know?
Dean'
Only half a day passed before there was a reply waiting in his inbox. Dean was kicked back on the couch with an ice cold beer in front of his laptop before he opened the message. He was met with an intimidating wall of text and Dean had to blink back his surprise and take a sip of his beer before he started reading.
'Dear Dean,
Thank you for your reply. I suppose before asking you questions about yourself, I should introduce myself first.
My name is Castiel. I understand that it is a strange name. It's pronounced 'Cas-tee-el' and it is the name of the angel of Thursday. I am 32 years old and I am a theology high school teacher in Boston.
I have a few hobbies. One of them is reading. I would say that I read from all genres, but they are mostly centered around my area of discipline: world religions. I also enjoy running, swimming, cooking, going to the theatre, and trying new things. I love being a teacher and teaching young minds, but I guess I shouldn't call that a hobby.
But enough about me, I would like to learn more about you. Your profile isn't very informative, but yet again, neither is mine. Please, tell me about yourself. What do you do? What are your hobbies? Your passions?
I apologize for the lengthy message and I look forward to your response.
+Castiel'
Dean sat back and sunk into the back of the couch. 'This guy definitely writes like a teacher,' he thought, taking another gulp of his beer while he processed what he just read.
Castiel, Cas-tee-el, seemed like a decent enough guy, from what he could glean from a simple message. Nerdy, for sure, just like his username suggested, but nice. Although, this was over the web, and Dean wouldn't know if Castiel was actually a 32 year old nerdy teacher or a 50 year old creepy dude in a basement or even a 14 year old girl sending messages as a joke with a stolen profile picture.
He clicked on 'reply' and cracked his knuckles as his computer opened in a new window. He stared at the blank text box, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say about himself without revealing too much information to a complete stranger.
'Hey Castiel,
My name is Dean, pronounced 'Dean,' and I live out in California. I'm a 29 year old auto mechanic during the week and work as a bartender part-time. I like cars and music, but only have a deep appreciation for the classics. You could say my hobbies and my job also overlap, just like you and your books.
Some of my other hobbies include camping and hunting trips with my brother who I live with and working on my car. I like going out to bars and movies, but juggling two jobs makes it hard. I guess I also like trying new things, depending on what they are.
Dean'
Dean double- then triple-checked his message, for grammar and possible stupidity, before clicking the send button. He felt like an ass for writing so little in comparison to Castiel's essay, but he didn't know what else to say.
If anything, he’ll just bore the hell out of this guy and he’ll move on, leaving Dean in peace.
However, it was only a few dozen replies and two weeks later that Dean realized he wasn't just entertaining this guy by writing back, but he actually looked forward to messages from Castiel. He wanted to talk to him.
Their usual topic of conversation was their jobs, Castiel often praising it and Dean often condemning it. Honestly, it felt good when Dean could bitch about the guys at work to someone other than the other guys at work and Sammy had enough stuff going on in his life to listen to Dean all the time.
They were to the point where their messages were so quick, it almost seemed like instant messaging. When Dean refreshed the page a few minutes after sending his own message, there would be a bright yellow envelope and a number 1 next to it in the corner, indicating a new private message from Castiel. They both stopped writing out long, fully-coherent messages and stopped being so formal with each other. Messages were short, casual, friendly, and without pressure.
From Impala67: 'Hey Cas, what are you up to today? Those students still giving you trouble?'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'You could not even begin to imagine. Someone just handed in a 3,000 word paper that is more than 3/4 quotes directly from the Bible. I don't understand what's on these children’s minds when they write.'
From Impala67: 'Well, fail em then.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I always feel horrible when I fail a student.'
From Impala67: 'But they deserve it. If they actually wanted to pass, they would have tried.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I suppose I'll have a talk with them. Perhaps they're going through a difficult time.'
From Impala67: 'You're too nice to them.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I know.'
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From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'If only you knew mine, we could compare brothers.'
From Impala67: 'You have a brother?'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I have five brothers and one sister. But go on, tell me about Sam.'
From Impala67: 'Damn! Giant family. But dude, he keeps on bugging me about dating. Asking about if I'm meeting people and shit. I thought signing up for this site would get him off my back, not asking a million more questions.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'Well, are you meeting new people? How many people have you been in contact with?'
From Impala67: 'Uh... one.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'Just one? That person is me, I'm assuming.'
From Impala67: 'Yeah, it's you. I don't know, I haven't exactly been interested in searching for someone online.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'Oh.'
From Impala67: 'That doesn't mean that I don't like talking to you!'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I'm glad to hear that, Dean.'
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From Impala67: 'Neither do you.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'You are a nice, good-looking person who seems to have many charming qualities.'
From Impala67: 'Aw, you sure know how to make a girl blush. (:'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I am serious. Why did you join this website? If you don't mind me asking.'
From Impala67: 'To be honest, I only joined because my brother was bugging me about it. I'm not that great at relationships, especially serious ones, if you know what I mean.'
From Impala67: 'I mean, I just haven't been looking very hard, and he's just being overly worried about me.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'That's kind of him, I suppose.'
From Impala67: 'More like overbearing.'
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: 'I'd have to agree.’
From Impala67: ‘What about you? Why do you use this site?’
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: ‘Meeting people. I’m not the most social person, so it is difficult to make friends.’
From Impala67: ‘Fair enough. No dating?’
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: ‘No, dating just doesn’t seem to be for me. It makes me nervous, plus I’m more interested in making friends at the moment.’
From Impala67: ‘Ah. Okay.’
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: ‘May I count you as a friend?’
From Impala67: ‘Of course. We’re friends.’
From Nerdytr3nchcoat: ‘Thank you. I have to go, lunch period ends in four minutes.'
From Impala67: 'Good luck with those little shits.'
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He learned Castiel's last name was Novak, and his middle name was James, and that each of his siblings were named after biblical angels. He even had an older brother named Lucifer, who tore up the family when he suddenly left more than a decade ago and no one has seen him since. Castiel didn’t get along with most of his family and Dean thought of him as the black sheep of the Novak clan.
He also learned a bunch of small details about Castiel that normally wouldn’t be important, but Dean remembered them anyway for some reason or another.
For example, Castiel liked to grade papers in a small independent coffee shop on the edge of Boston, where the drinks were cheap and the wifi was free. He taught three different classes, Monday through Friday, and was obscenely dedicated to his students. His students were of the stereotypical teenage variety, but he fully admitted to having favorites. He had lunch every day in the teacher’s lounge with a history teacher named Balthazar, and Crowley, a fellow theology teacher, constantly gave him a lot of trouble. Castiel headed up the Book Club every Tuesday afternoon, attended every soccer game, and chaperoned Homecoming and Prom every year.
He liked to listen to classical music, but had admitted to having a secret love of horrible top 40s pop like Ke$ha and Britney Spears. Castiel drove a silver 2001 Honda Civic and rarely took it in for tune-ups, much to Dean’s dismay. His favorite color was golden-yellow, he always wore a suit and tie to work, and in the fall and winter, he never left the house without wearing his trenchcoat.
All these little details came together to paint a picture of Castiel, really solidifying Dean’s mental image of him, since he really only knew what Castiel looked like by his shitty profile photo. Dean felt that they were already good friends, even though he never met the guy in real life.
On the other hand, Dean also shared more about himself than he ever thought possible. As a person who rarely ever opened up to anyone, including his own brother, it was astounding that he spoke so freely with Castiel.
He told him about trying to balance two jobs and how his busy schedule doesn’t allow for much free time to spend with the one family member he has left, and about his love for his car which was his dad’s before he passed away. He slightly alluded to his shady past which included hustling pool and illegal gambling he used to do just so he could to pay for the other half of Sam’s university tuition that wasn’t covered by scholarships and their living expenses. Hell, he sometimes even talked about communication problems he was having with his brother at times.
In fact, the most heartfelt conversation Dean’s ever had in his life thus far was with Castiel, and it was about how he missed living in Lawrence, Kansas, even though it wasn’t his home for more than twenty-five years now. Both Castiel and Dean knew he missed Lawrence for more than one reason, but neither one acknowledged how much Dean missed his family—the complete one, the Winchester family of four.
He wasn’t a chick-flick, heart-to-heart kind of guy, but that conversation meant a lot to him. He would never have had that kind of conversation with Sam, especially since Dean dropped everything and moved to Palo Alto so that he could help support his brother while pursuing his dream of becoming a lawyer.
Once, Castiel pointed out that Dean would do nearly anything short of jumping off a cliff for Sam, and Dean agreed.
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From Nerdytr3nchcoat: ‘Yes. My number is 617-556-2730. My current plan includes unlimited text and data.’
From Impala67: 'Great, me too. Thanks.’
[650-242-8613: Paging, Mr. Castiel. Paging.]
[617-556-2730: Dean, I assume?]
[Dean: Yup. How’d you guess?]
[Cas: Sheer luck, I suppose. Actually, I often get random texts from unknown numbers. Usually they’re students who somehow got ahold of my cell number and send prank texts.
[Dean: They just *love* you, don’t they? Whatcha up to?]
[Cas: Just finished my last class of the day and have a planning period before the school day ends. Then I have to stay after in case students or parents want to see me.]
[Dean: Do kids ever come in after school?]
[Cas: Not really, no. Sometimes I’ll get students who are upset about their grade, but it’s not too often. Usually, I can finish all of the day’s grading before I go home.]
[Dean: Lucky. I’m on my lunch break. I’ve got a double shift at Bobby’s garage today and I told the bar owner that I’d pick up a shift tonight.]
[Cas: You work too hard.]
[Dean: Bills, man... bills and tuition.]
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[Dean: what]
[Cas: I’m trying to encourage reading with good literature, and sometimes students are just so frustrating.]
[Dean: Hah! Book club? Tuesdays, right?]
[Cas: Yes, and we’re reading Pride and Prejudice this month. Have you read it?]
[Dean: Yeah, probably in high school though. I’m more of a horror-thriller Vonnegut type of guy.]
[Cas: I enjoy his books, but his books are banned at this school.]
[Dean: Why?!]
[Cas: Violence, vulgar language, and sexual content.]
[Dean: But that’s the best part!]
(art by kuma-la-la)
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[Dean: Excuse you.]
[Cas: Sorry, I accidentally pocket-texted you.]
[Dean: For a moment, I thought you were trying to signal me in code.]
[Dean: Perhaps a student was giving you a hard time about a bad grade you gave them and were being attacked in your classroom.]
[Cas: No, definitely just a pocket-text. And no student of mine has ever resorted to violence over a grade. But even so, I could handle myself.]
[Dean: Are you sure? You don’t need me to come fend off the angry failing students?]
[Cas: Yes, I’m sure. I have a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu.]
[Dean: Holy shit. You could probably kick anyone’s ass.]
[Cas: I’d rather not. It’s only to be used in self-defense.]
[Dean: Okay, okay.]
[Dean: But just saying, you could.]
[Cas: Yes, Dean, I could.]
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[Cas: Is he not sleeping well?]
[Dean: Honestly, I don’t think he’s sleeping *at all.*]
[Dean: All he does is wander around the house with his nose shoved into a book and go to class.]
[Dean: When I go to bed, he’s studying. When I wake up he’s studying. When I come back from work, he’s studying.]
[Cas: Law school is a lot of time and effort. He seems like a very good and dedicated student.]
[Dean: That’s great and all, but he’s gonna run himself into the ground.]
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[Dean: Lucky. I don’t even think those exist out here. I could use a few, I miss snow.]
[Dean: What do you plan on doing on your sudden day off?]
[Cas: There’s only a few inches on the ground, but most things are shut down because the city does not know how to handle it. There isn’t much to do other than read or do chores or work.]
[Dean: Ugh. You should do something fun on your snow day instead. Make a snowman for me or something.]
[Cas: *photo enclosed*]
[Dean: Oh my god I didn’t think you’d actually do it.]
[Dean: It’s so tiny. What is it’s nose made of???]
[Cas: I didn’t have a carrot so it is the cap of a pen.]
[Dean: And the buttons?]
[Cas: Those are raisins.]
[Dean: Dude, that’s one of the most awkward-looking snowmen I’ve ever seen.]
[Cas: *photo enclosed*]
[Dean: YOU’RE A MURDERER.]
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[Dean: @ ellens]
[Cas: Sure, just give me time to save a few hundred dollars and to book a flight and pack a suitcase and I’ll be right there to get you.]
[Dean: Cas, shit, sorry wrong number. Trying to text sammy]
[Cas: Are you okay?]
[Dean: yeah just kinda got drunk after my shift ennded]
[Dean: more like wasted]
[Cas: Ellen is a friend?]
[Dean: No!!]
[Dean: well yeah, i work at her bar. Second job, remember?]
[Cas: Oh, yes, I hope you get home safely. Please get some rest.]
[Dean: will do]
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[Cas: It’s alright. How are you feeling?]
[Dean: Killer hangover. Good thing I’m not going into work today. Saturdays are the best.]
[Cas: They are. No classes, but a lot of grading.]
[Dean: Take a day off from that. Every time I ask you what you’re up to, you say grading.]
[Cas: It needs to be done, fall semester finals are coming soon.]
[Dean: And then you have a break?]
[Cas: For a few weeks.]
[Dean: Great. You can finally relax and do whatever it is that you do in your seemingly non-existent spare time.]
[Cas: I’ll probably visit my brother Gabriel for Christmas.]
[Dean: Aw, no big reunion with your gigantic family?]
[Cas: We’re not exactly on the best terms right now. Gabriel is the only one I can put up with other than Anna, and he never attends family events.]
[Dean: Why’s that? And why aren’t you on good terms with your family?]
[Cas: Gabriel doesn’t agree with father’s perspective on things. One could say Gabriel is more of a free-spirit. And as for my family, we had another argument about my career.]
[Dean: What about your career?]
[Cas: My family is very religious, and they were hoping that I would go into the seminary. I thought that teaching theology would appease them enough, but I guess not.]
[Cas: Every once in awhile, my parents bring it up. Gabriel is the only one who actually defends my viewpoint.]
[Dean: And what does he do?]
[Cas: He owns a candy shop in New York.]
[Dean: Sweet. Pun intended.]
[Cas: Wow, Dean. I haven’t heard that one before. So creative.]
[Dean: Jackass.]
[Cas: Assbutt.]
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[Cas: Merry Christmas, Dean.]
[Dean: You at your brother’s place yet?]
[Cas: It took the bus 4.5 hours to get there, but I made it.]
[Cas: How is your Christmas thus far?]
[Dean: Well, it’s 10AM and I’ve already broken out the rum and eggnog, so good, I guess.]
[Cas: A bit early for that, isn't it?]
[Dean: Yeah, but hey, it’s Christmas, why not? I kinda panicked and went last minute shopping for Sam last night and wrapped it up this morning.]
[Cas: What did you get him?]
[Dean: I couldn’t think of anything, so I ended up getting him one of those Kindle things. Dude's a nerd and loves to read, so I think he’ll like it. Plus, he can put his textbooks and shit on them.]
[Cas: That’s very thoughtful of you.]
[Dean: I hope he thinks so. Get Gabriel anything?]
[Cas: We don’t usually exchange gifts, but I left season three of Gilmore Girls on his desk last night and I found a bag of saltwater taffy in my suitcase this morning.]
[Dean: Sweet. Ehehe. I wish I could get you something.]
[Cas: Actually, you could.]
[Dean: What?]
Incoming Call: Cas
Dean’s breath hitched, like an inaudible gasp, as he stared down at the phone in his palm. Cas was calling him. This was bold, rather surprising coming from Castiel but at the same time, it was something he would do. They’ve been chatting and emailing and texting for several months now, but they’ve never actually talked on the phone before, even though it’s been an option this entire time.
Dean quickly collected his thoughts and pressed the button to answer it before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?” Dean answered tentatively. “Cas?”
“Hello, Dean,” came the reply across the line.
His eyes widened at the sound. Cas’s voice was a lot lower and rough than Dean initially thought. He usually imagined that Castiel had a higher pitched voice that suited his nerdy profession and personality, but nothing this... hot.
“Woah, Cas. I didn’t expect you to sound like this,” Dean chuckled.
“Sound like what?” Castiel asked, oblivious to the sentiment.
“I dunno, this low and...” Dean searched for the right words, “... gravelly-sounding?”
Castiel made a muffled disapproving noise. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“Then thank you. You also sound very nice.”
Dean was stunned by the sheer genuine sincerity that was behind the statement, but quickly shrugged it off in favor of a joke. “Just ‘nice?’ Gee, thanks.”
“Dean, you sound lovely,” Castiel amended.
‘Well, damn,’ Dean thought. They were both silent for a minute; they could hear each other breathing over the line, and it was kind of creepy, to say the least.
“So…” Dean began, trying to end the awkward silence that had already gone on too long. “What are you calling for?”
“My gift.”
“Which is what?”
Castiel’s reply was simple, like Dean was missing something so painfully obvious. “To hear you.”
“Oh.” Dean replied, dumbfounded.
It was such a small and incredibly sappy request, like a true chick flick moment taken right out of a movie, but he secretly wanted to hear what Castiel sounded like too. It would have been nice to put a voice to all the words they’ve been exchanging, and now Dean knew there was a hot voice to accompany the hot face of Cas’ bad profile picture.
“I’m sorry. It was stupid-” Castiel started, sounding unsure of himself all of the sudden.
“No, Cas, really. It’s fine,” Dean assured him, wondering if Cas would be hanging up anytime soon. He was met with more silence, so Dean mentally went through his list of casual conversation starters. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
“I’ll probably go out for a walk through the city pretty soon to meet Gabriel for lunch.”
“A walk? Isn’t it snowing there?” Dean asked, thinking back to the national weather report that Sam had on during breakfast. Palo Alto was supposed to be chilly and cloudy all week, but New England was getting hit by another snowstorm.
“Just a little. It’s still nice enough to take a walk. Gabriel’s candy shop is only a few miles away.”
“Wait, he works on Christmas?”
“He says it’s one of his biggest selling days of the year.”
“Crazy dude.”
“I’d have to agree.” There was a pause as Dean could hear phone buttons clicking on the other end. “Gabriel texted. I’m going to head out now.”
“Alright. Stay warm, man.”
“Don’t worry, Dean. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Cas.”
There was a click as the call was disconnected, and Dean closed his phone and slid it into his pocket. He moved across his small kitchen to get a glass of water. Taking a big gulp, he ran a hand through his hair.
‘Fuck’, he thought. Now he had a voice to go along with his rapidly-developing fantasies.
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“Hey.”
“Hello, Dean,” came Castiel’s low rumble.
“What’s up?” Dean perched the phone between his shoulder and ear as he started rinsing his plate under hot water. Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, doing the math. “It’s pretty late there.”
“I’m at a party.”
Dean furrowed his brows. “And... what? You’re calling me? Really? Right now?”
“I don’t want to be here, but Gabriel is hosting.”
“Oh... Not having fun? No one else as awesome as I am to talk to?” teased Dean.
“Gabriel has very...” Castiel struggled to find appropriate words. “... interesting friends. They’re loud and obnoxious and very, very drunk.”
“That sucks, man. Can you escape anywhere?”
“There’s nowhere to go, not at this hour. Not without a car.”
“Take Gabriel’s,” Dean suggested. If his dick of a brother was going to host a party without consulting him, Castiel should be able to borrow it.
Castiel sighed. “Gabriel doesn’t have a car. He likes using public transportation.”
“Lame.”
“There’s no one interesting to talk to at the party,” Castiel hesitated and Dean held the phone closer to his ear. “... so I was wondering if I could just talk to you?”
“Sure,” Dean agreed, smiling a little that Cas wants to talk to him when then there’s an entire apartment of people he could talk to instead. “But I’m not really that interesting.”
“Please, Dean.”
He didn’t think he could ever deny Cas’ requests, not if he said them in that low-pitched growl of a voice.
For the next two hours, they took turns telling past holiday stories when they were younger. Dean’s Christmases were never traditional with how much his dad had to travel for his career. Being a widower bounty hunter with two kids always on the move made celebrating family holidays a little difficult, but Dean always tried hard to make Christmases enjoyable for Sam, even if their father didn’t. Dean would usually give his dessert to Sam, and later on he would take him to see a movie late at night when their dad was either sleeping or out tracking down a criminal. He bought small gifts for Sam with his own pocket money and always made sure there was a smile on his face.
On the other hand, Castiel’s past Christmases with his family were so traditional that they weren’t. Since he came from a highly religious family, his Christmases were not like the usual Hallmark ones with wrapping paper, trees, cookies, and presents. No, they were with his large family, waking up early and dressing up to go to church, then hours of praying and reflection, then going to do community service, then going home to have a moderate meal. There was no formal exchange of gifts, but Castiel assured Dean that his siblings secretly gave each other gifts when their parents weren’t looking. One year, when Castiel was fifteen, Gabriel bought Castiel a porn magazine, where their father found it under his bed and he was grounded for three months and was subject to a series of church retreats and seminars.
In the end, it seemed like neither Castiel nor Dean have had at least one traditional Hallmark Christmas. Dean wondered if he would ever get a regular Christmas, and if he had one, would he even like it? Sure, the delicious food sounded appealing, but the decorations, tree, and other things seemed extraneous. Who knows? Maybe he’d miss the Winchester Way of Cruddy Christmases.
Dean didn’t get to finish his train of thought because Castiel yawned, a long and surprisingly smooth sound streaming out of the receiver and into Dean’s ear. He sounded exhausted.
“You tired?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer.
“Incredibly,” another small yawn, “and people are starting to leave. I think I’m going to head to bed now. Hopefully no one is in there.”
“Okay,” Dean huffed out a laugh, standing up from the couch and stretching. “You do that.”
“Thank you for keeping me company.”
“No problem, Cas.” Dean smiled through the phone. “Anytime,” he quickly added, hoping Castiel would get the message to call him again sometime. Cas seemed to catch on.
“Talk to you soon, Dean. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Dean crawled into bed that night and stared blissfully at the ceiling. He’d listen to Castiel’s voice for hours more if he could; it was strangely hypnotic and angelic in its own way. Like he gargled gravel, but also remarkably soothing. If he wanted to, Cas could have easily been a radio host or an audiobook voice actor. Either way, Dean would have listened to both, endlessly.
Flipping onto his back, Dean thought back to their conversation, and how Castiel spoke wistfully about his family and childhood. Dean had never met anyone—outside of Sammy—who had less than ideal holiday experience like he did, until Castiel. Now more than ever, Dean wanted to know everything there is about his online friend.
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Castiel always called in the evenings when Dean was eating dinner and Castiel was getting ready for bed, because of the time difference between California and Massachusetts. Although they talked for about an hour every night, they still texted each other throughout the day, often just continuing on the conversation from the night before and leading into the next phone call. They would normally start with what they did that day: what shenanigans Gabriel dragged Castiel through and what Dean did with Sam, even though Sam still studied the majority of the time during the break.
In all honesty, Dean didn’t know how a simple message with no intentions on a dating website he didn’t even want to be a part of could have evolved this far. One day, it struck him that he was texting a guy all the way in Boston he’s never met all day, having an hour-long conversation with him on the phone at night, and then maybe jerking one off to the thought of his face and the sound of his voice every once in awhile.
Dean winced at how terrifyingly creepy that sounded.
All that aside, he wasn’t really interested in an actual online relationship with Cas, was he?
Wait.
... Shit.
Dean liked Castiel, sure, and he definitely thought he was hot, so there was sexual attraction. But Dean wasn’t looking to date Castiel, right? Even though Cas was kind, nerdy, funny in the dorky kind of way, caring...
‘No,’ Dean decided. ‘I’ve got too fucking much going on to date.’ Between working long hours at the garage all week and late shifts at the bar on the weekends and being there for Sammy, Dean didn’t really have time for anything other than the occasional one night stand. Besides, he wouldn’t want to wreck his friendship with Cas. Even so, long-distance would be so difficult—nearly impossible, really, especially Palo Alto to Boston. That was thousands of miles, an entire country away. Ocean to ocean, coast to coast.
Wait. What the hell was he thinking? Why was he even considering that it was even remotely possible?
It’s been a long standing tradition that Dean Winchester doesn’t date. One night stands and short weekend affairs were more his forte. Not to mention, none of his relationships have lasted over a few weeks, and he felt lucky that Lisa dumped him before he could let her down even more. ‘Dean’ and ‘date’ don’t go in the same sentence unless the word ‘doesn’t’ was in between, and he’d hate to mess up his friendship with Cas. Besides, Castiel said himself that he wasn’t interested in dating, just making friends.
But still… a little piece of Dean still wanted to try it.
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[Cas: Happy New Year, Dean.]
[Dean: Hey, happy new year to you, too.]
[Dean: How are you bringing in the new year?]
[Cas: Anna insisted we would go out to a few bars.]
[Dean: Gotta have a good old bar crawl for the new year. Have you left for that yet?]
[Cas: I’m waiting for Anna to get dressed. What are your plans tonight?]
[Dean: I’m just hangin at home with Sam. We’ve got a lot of liquor stored up for tonight. James Bond and Die Hard are marathoning back to back so I figure we’ll just watch those.]
[Cas: Not going out?]
[Dean: To be honest, I’d like to, but Sam is finally taking a break from studying, and he studied on Christmas, for god's sake. I’d rather spend New Years with him.]
[Cas: That’s very kind of you.]
[Dean: Nah, it’s selfish. I’d rather see his ugly mug than anything else right now.]
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[Dean: What?? Dude, how drunk are you?]
[Cas: Not very; thankfully I have a high tolerance. She’s pretty drunk, though. I’m going to have to stop her soon and take her home.]
[Dean: That sucks.]
[Cas: She seemed to have fun tonight. I don’t mind.]
[Dean: But did *you* have fun?]
[Cas: I prefer quiet nights in: reading, making dinner, watching television.]
[Dean: I’m glad the words ‘grading papers’ wasn’t in that. I wish you were over here with us, we’re watching Octopussy.]
[Cas: I’ve never seen it.]
[Dean: You’ve never seen Octopussy?? What about Goldfinger? Diamonds are Forever?]
[Cas: I don’t think so.]
[Dean: WHAT have you seen any of the James Bond movies?]
[Cas: I guess not. I’ve considered reading the novels.]
[Dean: What do you even watch then???]
[Cas: Historical documentaries, mostly. The occasional cooking reality show.]
[Dean: You’re missing out]
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[Cas: Happy New Year! Again.]
[Dean: Got any resolutions?]
[Cas: Not really. I don’t usually make New Years resolutions. My goals are my goals. Do you?]
[Dean: Nope, neither do I.]
[Dean: Besides, usually people fail at their resolutions anyways.]
[Dean: You there? Did you get Anna home?]
[Cas: I just got back from her house.]
[Dean: What are you gonna do for the rest of the night?]
[Cas: I was thinking about going to sleep. Being around all those people tonight was exhausting. I’m not exactly a social person like my sister.]
[Dean: I won’t keep you awake, then. Night, Cas.]
[Cas: Goodnight, Dean.]
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[Dean: Jeez, tell me how you really feel about them, Cas.]
[Cas: I already did. I just told you.]
[Dean: Dude, joke. Isn’t it your first day of new classes? You can already tell that they’re bad?]
[Cas: Of course. My World Religions students already think they know everything about the world.]
[Cas: They have another thing coming.]
[Dean: Aw yeah, you show them!]
[Cas: Is today your first day back at work as well?]
[Dean: Yup. I go in in like an hour. I’m still rolling around in bed.]
[Cas: Sorry, did I wake you up?]
[Dean: No. I keep my phone on vibrate at night. I forgot to close the blinds last night, so the sun is pretty fuckin bright right now.]
[Dean: What are you doing now?]
[Cas: Technically, it’s my planning period but it’s the first day back and there is nothing to grade.]
[Dean: What are you teaching this semester?]
[Cas: Morality, World Religions, and two classes of Religious Ethics & the World.]
[Dean: Sounds deep.]
[Cas: I can only hope my Ethics students are less annoying.]
[Dean: I dunno, man. High school kids? You don’t get more annoying than that.]
[Cas: We’re supposed to treat them as “young adults.”]
[Dean: That’s bullshit.]
[Cas: I know.]
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[Cas: Why? What type of internship is it?]
[Dean: It’s some law firm south of town. He’d start as soon as summer break starts in May and it would run into next year.]
[Dean: It’s unpaid and everything. I think he should find a paid one, but he says it’s really prestigious.]
[Cas: And what is he worried about?]
[Dean: Just the usual stuff. Messing up, making a bad impression, saying something stupid, dressing poorly.]
[Cas: I’m sure Sam will do fine, judging by the way you have described him.]
[Dean: Yeah, that’s what I keep on tellin him. That and ‘get a haircut.’]
[Cas: He has long hair?]
[Dean: He’s got a friggin lion mane. It’s almost down to his shoulders. I mean, he rocks it, but dude. Way too long for a law firm.]
[Dean: Actually, it’s definitely approaching girlishly long.]
[Cas: Why does he keep it that long?]
[Dean: I have no idea. Long hair isn’t a family thing, but yet again, Sam did get some of the weird traits of the family.]
[Cas: That makes sense. I don’t really look like anyone in my family.]
[Dean: Yeah. Speaking of which, could I have a pic of you? I kinda like to put a face to a voice.]
[Dean: I mean, I don’t know if your profile pic is old or anything. For all I know, you could look totally different.]
Cas didn’t answer back right away, but a few minutes later, Dean’s phone buzzed beside him. The phone took a moment to download the file before making a cheerful ding that signaled success.
[Cas: *photo enclosed*]
Dean grinned a little.
The file was a picture of Cas, in a dark navy suit, white shirt, and crooked blue tie. Dean could see the trenchcoat from his profile photo laid over the back of his rolling desk chair. He was sitting at a simple wooden desk in front of a whiteboard with a ton of writing in red marker scrawled over it. Various papers and worksheets were sprawled out in front of him in different stacks, and a modest but worn black briefcase sat perched open to his left. Cas’ hands laid limply across the desk in front of him, like he didn’t know what to do with them when the picture was taken.
What really drew Dean’s attention was Cas’ face. His dark hair was a little messy, just like his profile photo. ‘Must be a perpetual state of sex hair,’ Dean smirked to himself. Full pink lips offset the manly square jaw they were set upon, and he also had five o’clock shadow and a very subtle smile, one that you could only see if you were looking for it, like Mona Lisa’s smile.
‘Dude, you’re hot,’ Dean wanted to text him.
[Dean: Nope, you look the same as your profile. Except this is a much better pic. Thanks.]
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[Cas: I’m quite busy tonight with parent-teacher meetings, but may I have a picture of you as well?]
Dean stared at the message before shrugging. It’d be unfair if he didn’t send one back.
He scrolled through the photo gallery on his phone, only finding pictures of exotic and expensive cars he’d worked on at the garage in the past few years, a few glamour shots of his baby, and nearly a hundred blurry far-away pictures from Sam’s undergraduate graduation at Stanford.
Dean didn’t have many photos of himself; they were either too old, too blurry, or just plain terrible and embarrassing.
He wandered through the house, phone in hand, looking for where Sam might be. Dean found his brother in his room, sitting at his desk, pouring over interview notes he’d written and rewritten furiously over the past few days.
“Hey,” Dean tapped on the open door. “Knock knock.”
They were close brothers who didn’t need much privacy from each other, but they’ve established a knocking habit so Dean doesn’t accidentally waltz into one of Sam’s intense study sessions or worse, one of his much needed naps. “Can you take a picture of me?”
Sam studied his notes for a few more seconds before ripping his eyes away towards his brother. He cleared his throat and nodded a little as he stood up and crossed the room, meeting his brother at the doorway.
“Sure,” he took the phone out of Dean’s outstretched hand and flipped it open. “What, new Facebook photo?”
“Something like that.”
Dean arranges himself against the white wall of the hallway, pulling the wrinkles out of his grey henley and running a hand through his hair for good measure. At first, he threw out his usual ‘cool guy’ look, but then quickly relaxed and changed it to a slight smile at the last second.
Sam cocked an eyebrow at both Dean’s behavior and suspicious reply. “Hmm...” he hummed, aiming the phone at Dean, leering at him again before pressing the button.
Snap.
“Thanks, man.” Dean quickly snatched the phone out of Sam’s hand, glanced at the photo and escaped back into the den, leaving Sam standing alone in the skinny hallway of their house.
It wasn’t the best photo of him ever taken—his hair was a little messy from the day and his freckles stood out more than ever against his cheeks and nose—but it’ll work for now. Dean sent it immediately to Castiel after he finished looking it over. The rest of the night was relatively quiet, save for Sam’s sporadic freak outs and Dean haircut teases.
He woke up to Castiel’s reply waiting in his inbox the next morning, which was simply [Thank you.]
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“So,” Sam began, eyes narrowing at his older brother as if trying to read his mind. “How’s that dating site going?”
Dean peered over his mug at Sam, eyes narrowing in response. “Fine.”
“... Meet anyone?”
Dean made a noncommittal noise and sputtered over his coffee.
It was then that Sam grinned triumphantly. “You met someone,” he smiled. “I knew it.”
“Just a friend!”
A smirk played on Sam’s lips. “A friend that you talk to for an hour every night? Don’t think I don’t know about that.”
“Dude, shut up!”
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[Dean: No prob. More meetings?]
[Cas: No, it’s Anna’s birthday. She’s 30 today. Gabriel came up to Boston for her birthday as a surprise.]
[Dean: Sounds great. How are you guys celebrating?]
[Cas: We’re going out to dinner and a bar with a group of her friends. I’m baking two pies for the occasion right now.]
[Dean: You bake PIE? Pie’s the best.]
[Cas: Yes, apple and cherry.]
[Dean: You’re a perfect human being.]
[Cas: I am not.]
[Dean: Dude, you bake pie. You’re perfect in my book.]
[Cas: If you say so. What flavor of pie is your favorite?]
[Dean: I like them all. Apple, blueberry, cherry, pecan, pumpkin. You name it, I like it.]
[Cas: Funeral pie?]
[Dean: wtf is funeral pie?]
[Cas: Raisins.]
[Dean: Ugh. Gross.]
[Cas: So I win?]
[Dean: Win what?]
[Cas: I found a pie you don’t like.]
[Dean: I guess so, but I’m sure if you made it, I’d like it.]
[Cas: I’m not too sure about that.]
[Cas: I have to go pick up Gabriel from the bus station and then meet everyone at the restaurant. I’ll text you later.]
[Dean: Have fun and don’t let Anna get too wasted like New Years.]
[Cas: We’ll try.]
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[Dean: He’s staying at your place?]
[Cas: For the weekend. Everywhere I look, I find piles of candy wrappers. I know he’s a candymaker, but I feel like he should have diabetes at this point.]
[Dean: That’s hilarious.]
[Cas: He could at least put the wrappers in the trash.]
[Dean: Well, they can’t all be winners. Have any plans for the day?]
[Cas: I was thinking about taking Gabriel to some of the local landmarks such as the Old City Hall.]
[Dean: Uh, yeah. You have fun with that.]
[Cas: He’s eating candy for breakfast.]
[Cas: It’s going to be a long day.]
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“Hello?”
A hot familiar grumble came over the phone. “Hello, Dean.”
“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted, glancing around the room to see if Sam was around. “What’s up?”
“I am exhausted.”
“Gabriel wear you out? Wasn’t that your job?” Dean laughed.
“No,” Castiel said. “But we didn’t get to many of the landmarks I planned out for today.”
Dean smirked, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear while picking up his bowl again. “Hm? Why’s that?”
“He had a map with every independent candymaker in Boston marked on it.”
“What? Why? He finish his stash already and needed more?”
“No, he still has bags of his own candy left. I believe he phrased it... ‘checking out the competition.’”
“The competition all the way in Boston?”
“I made a similar point. I doubt he is really in competition with candymakers from a city two hundred miles away... but he still insisted on going to as many as we could. He bought a handful of candy from each store.”
“Hah,” Dean huffed, eating another spoonful before continuing. “Market research, I guess. Did he at least share with you?”
“I don’t like sweets, or at least, not as much as Gabriel. I spent most of the day refusing candy offers and finding candy wrappers everywhere.” Castiel sighed into the phone. “I’m tired of walking, and I am tired of my brother.”
“Ouch. Yeah, siblings suck sometimes.” Dean definitely knew from personal experience. He loved Sam, but sometimes his brother just drove him up wall, especially with midterms approaching.
“Thankfully, he leaves late tonight… We’re driving to the airport at eleven because he booked the latest flight of the day.”
Dean could nearly hear his eye roll through the phone. Castiel was one of the most patient people he knew, but one of the best parts of his personality is not putting up with anyone’s shit, not even his own brother’s.
“But enough about my escapade from today. How are you?” Castiel asked, seeming eager to change the subject to something other than himself.
Dean shrugged, even though he knew Castiel couldn’t see him. “Today was good. Kinda normal. Woke up, drove to the garage, repaired shit. The usual stuff.”
“Sounds nice,” Castiel nearly yawned the words. Dean chuckled.
“Dude, you really are exhausted. Go to bed.”
Castiel paused. “It’s not that I don’t like talking to y-”
“I know, man. Go get catch a nap before you have drive Gabriel to the airport or whatever. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be here tomorrow.” Dean winced at how girly that sounded.
Castiel took a moment of deliberation, like he was internally debating between staying up and talking to Dean and going to bed to get at least a decent power nap before leaving with Gabriel for the airport. He sighed heavily, making up his mind.
“Goodnight, Dean.”
“Night, Cas.”
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Over a bowl of cereal and a leftover donut, Dean typed out a text to Cas.
[Dean: Finally get rid of Gabriel?]
There was no intimidate answer, but he knew Castiel didn't have a free period until 10:00AM his time, and sometimes he didn't even have time to text between classes. Dean glanced at his watch; that was two hours away.
Dean's lunch came and went without a word from Cas, some of the guys at the garage started making fun of him for checking his phone every couple of minutes. Even Bobby gave him the occasional sideways stare.
Phantom vibrates began to plague him. Dean checked his phone often—pulling it out of his pocket and flipping it open to glance at the screen—every time he thought he felt a vibration alert, even though Bobby eventually yelled at him for being distracted on the job.
At a red light on his way home, Dean tried texting again.
[Dean: Man, there's a few people at the garage who would benefit from taking your Ethics class.]
There was no reply, and Dean ate dinner with Sam, who at least had good news that he was accepted to the internship. They broke out the good whiskey from the cabinet and poured themselves a few fingers worth each before retreating to their own corners: Sam back to his desk in his room and Dean out to their single car garage.
The evening dragged on and Dean changed the air filters on the Impala while waiting for Castiel's usual call.
He paused, hands in the middle of ripping open the box of a new A/C filter. He was waiting for Cas to call? When did that happen?
He was Dean motherfucking Winchester, he could be the one to call if he wanted to.
Dean whipped out his phone after completely installing the filter, determined to dial. Despite the cold air, Dean stayed in the privacy of the garage. Sam knew about Cas, more or less, and he didn't need to be eavesdropping any more than he should. He scrolled through his list of contacts to find Novak, Cas.
He hesitated on the call screen before abandoning his plans and opening an empty text. Calling was Cas' department, anyway.
[Dean: Busy today?]
No answer.
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Dean tried to shrug it off, telling himself that Cas was just busy with teaching. They both had lives, and sometimes lives threw curveballs and schedules got busy. He’d text back when he found the time, Dean knew it.
But Cas didn’t call or answer any texts the next day or the day after that. Dean was starting to worry that Cas might be in some sort of trouble.
‘No,’ Dean thought. The guy was smart and had a black belt, for pete’s sake.
Still...
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[Dean: Motherfucker just cut me off. Stupid Prius.]
[Dean: Scratch that, motherfucking teenagers.]
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[Dean: Lose your phone?]
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[Dean: Gabriel didn’t kidnap you or anything, right?]
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[Dean: Wait, of course not. No one could ever ignore me.]
[Dean: jk ha ha]
[Dean: But seriously, where are you?]
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In fact, that’s essentially what he did.
He didn’t feel like changing out of his work clothes just yet, so he was laying face-down on the bed wearing his shirt, jeans, and socks. He glanced over to his phone laying a few feet away from him on the mattress where he tossed it before crawling onto his bed, eying it with disdain.
Every night, he looked at the clock and unconsciously waited for the call that never came.
He reached out and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist. No new text messages showed on the display. Dean sighed and dropped his phone off the edge of the bed, landing on a pile of clothes with a soft thud. He laid there in the darkness of his room, half thinking and half trying to fall asleep.
Every day that passed with no contact from Castiel was becoming increasingly worrying, and Dean didn’t know why. Cas didn’t seem like the type to stop talking to someone and just drop a friendship with no explanation. They weren’t on bad terms, so Castiel shouldn’t be upset with him for any particular reason.
It all made Dean’s stomach twist into knots. It was clear to Dean that he really missed Castiel, and that not knowing if he was okay and not being able to talk to him was quickly becoming nearly unbearable. With the loss of contact with one of his only close friends, his heart ached a little.
Or more than a little. A lot more than a little.
‘Shit.’
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[Dean: It’s been more than a week. I hope you're okay.]
Sam strolled into the kitchen while Dean was halfway through his bowl of soggy frosted flakes and grabbed the other half of the bagel from the toaster. He took one look at his brother before grunting a ‘good morning.’ Slathering a generous amount of onion and chive cream cheese on his toasted bagel, Sam took a second, much longer look at Dean.
“Dude,” Sam said, taking a bite and speaking with his mouth full. “What crawled up your ass and died?”
Dean didn’t even look up from his bowl, determined not to meet Sam’s eyes. “Nothing.”
“Whatever, Dean. I know you. Something’s up.” Sam took his seat opposite of Dean at their small two-person kitchen table by the window.
Dean sighed, seeing no escape from this discussion. Sam had his concerned-problem-solving face on, and there was no stopping him at this point. “Remember that internet friend I have?”
Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, a slight smirk coming to his lips quickly before smothering it with a more serious expression for his brother’s sake. “The dating site one? Yeah.”
Dean rolled his eyes, glancing around the room uncomfortably before returning to Sam, who was still waiting expectantly for him to continue. “I haven’t heard from him in like, ten days.”
“Oh,” Sam frowned, carefully examining Dean’s face as if he could discern more information from it. “Is he on vacation?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. He usually lets me know about that kind of stuff, but he just-” Dean made a vague falling motion with his hand, “-dropped off the face of the earth.”
Sam shrugged, eating more of his bagel. “Maybe he lost his phone?”
“But he hasn’t answered his email either. Calling, emailing, texting, it all doesn’t work.”
Sam’s gaze was fixed on Dean, silently urging for more.
“And I’m sorta worried about him.”
“'Sorta'?” Sam raised his brows again before sighing and taking a moment to think things through. “I don’t know, Dean. What’s left to do except hope he’s okay?”
Dean didn’t know either. He was stuck in a game of waiting: waiting for a call, waiting for a text, waiting to see if anything was going to happen at all.
They finished their breakfast with minimal talking—Sam talked a little about the things he needs to do to prepare for his internship in the summer and Dean spent most of the time wondering how to go about checking in on Castiel without seeming like a stalker.
Sam left for class at his usual time, giving Dean one last reassured “I’m sure he’s okay” before heading out the door. Dean had about twenty minutes before leaving for the garage, and he flicked through the news channels in the living room, not quite paying attention to the newscasters as they reported about the ice and snowstorms ravaging the East Coast.
If he didn’t get a text by the end of the day, Dean decided he would make more of a search effort.
The day dragged on, and Dean could hear his phone vibrate on the workbench a few feet away. He glanced towards Bobby, who was currently underneath the hood of a Ford and absorbed in a busted radiator. He wasn’t technically allowed to check his phone anymore while working on a vehicle, especially with Bobby right there, but he was quick to check them as soon as his lunch break started.
[Jo H: Please please please take my shift.]
[Ellen: If she asks, don’t take Jo’s shift. I’m trying to make a point.]
[Jo H: Don’t listen to my mom, whatever she’s saying.]
[Ellen: If you take her shift, you lose your bartending job.]
[Ellen: I don’t mean that, but don’t take her shift. That girl needs to learn a thing or two.]
Dean cracked a smile, cheeks tight and sore like it was the first time he smiled in ages. Jo was always trying to get Dean to take her shifts, and really he understood. Working at the Roadhouse wasn’t exactly Jo’s lifelong dream, but he trusted Ellen’s judgement and typed out a reply to Jo before he ate his sandwich.
[Dean: Sorry, Jo. No can do.]
Bobby put him on the Oil Change register for the afternoon, and Dean spent most of the time up to his elbows in grease. Luckily, changing engine oil was a mindless task that Dean could do with his eyes closed and one arm behind his back, so it left a lot of room for thought.
How does someone find a person who lives in a different city, three thousand miles away with only a name, email, and number?
Dean wasn’t going to do anything as drastic as call the Boston-area cops and file a missing-persons report. If Castiel was fine and just busy, involving the cops would be annoying and massively embarrassing, not to mention crossing too many lines for Dean's liking.
On that thought, how does he even know that Castiel was missing? Dean decided that was the first thing he’d have to figure out.
The minute Dean got home after his shift, right after yelling out a 'hey!' to Sam down the hall, he retrieved his laptop from his desk in his room and brought it into the living room. He cracked open a Miller Light while it booted up, and he opened the White Pages website.
As it turned out, there were a hundred and eighteen entries for Novak in the Boston area, but only one with the name “Castiel” attached. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number. It rang four times until Cas’ voice crackled through the receiver.
“Hello, you’ve reached the home of Castiel Novak. If you—” Dean flipped his phone shut without leaving a message, frustrated with getting his answering machine. Cas should be home by now. He placed his cell back on the coffee table next to his laptop before massaging his forehead. 'Damn it, Cas…'
Dean pulled up the New York City White Pages, and searched Novak again. There’s pages upon pages upon pages of Novaks in New York, but Dean wasn’t surprised. You could find one of everything there, probably several hundred Winchesters too. But there was only one “Gabriel Novak,” and Dean was thankful for that. He waited a few minutes, glancing from the screen to his phone, debating whether he should call or not.
In the end, Dean had his phone pressed to his ear and Gabriel’s voice coming out the receiver. “Hey! It’s Gabe, lover and candy-maker extraordinaire! Leave your deets-” Dean clicked the end call button, muttering 'weirdo.' Dean had never talked to Cas’ brother before, but he sounded theatrical and loud, just like he pictured when Cas first described him.
He threw down his phone onto the couch cushions next to him before blowing out another frustrated sigh. Nearly on cue, Sam ambled into the room with a massive textbook in the crook of his arm and an empty glass in his hand.
“Can’t get a hold of your boyfriend?” He half-joked as he walked into the kitchen, setting his book on the table and filling his glass at the sink.
Dean leered at him as he came back into the den. “Dude, he’s not my boyfriend,” Dean barked. “And I don’t know, man. I even tried his brother’s number.”
“Isn’t that kind of...” Sam shrugged, “I don't know... stalkery?”
“I’m trying not to cross that line.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “I think you already did.”
“Dude, shut up.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just glad you made a friend. Boyfriend or not, you’ve been happier recently. Or at least until this-” Sam made a vague motion with his free arm, somehow accurately describing the situation with it.
“Yeah, well,” Dean paused, rubbing his hands across his face, not knowing what to say. “I don’t know, man. I don't know.”
Maybe he’d never hear from Cas again.
Dean’s heart sank a little at the thought. That’s the last thing he wanted.