Work Text:
The door was open. It wasn't like he was trying to snoop, okay? He meant that with all his heart. The book was laying half underneath Dean's bed and if he was gonna be honest, Cas' first thought was just something had fallen underneath the bed. He went to pick it up. Simple as that. For Dean.
And then Cas realized it was a notebook, not just a book. Maybe it was something to hunt monsters with? Like John Winchester's? But Dean had never shown it to him before (he ignored the tiny stab of hurt it left in him). And Sam never had it either. Maybe it was something secret?
Cas decided to look at it anyway.
Flipping through the first few pages were drawings of different monsters with notes next to them saying their names, and then a place where Sam and Dean had met them. There was things like wendigos, and different versions of the djin. Cas recognized some of the entries, and some of them were completely new to him.
And then the angel page. He wasn't fazed when he saw that there were notes about him there--as well as notes about Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and others they'd met. He understood that it wasn't just that he was another monster to them, but that it was still useful to keep track of things they'd encountered.
As he kept flipping through the pages, Cas saw that he was the main topic of focus. There would be some interruptions, maybe about Crowley or maybe meeting another kind of monster, but it was still mostly him. There were doodles of his face scattered everywhere throughout the rest of the notebook too.
Cas smiled, not only at how much Dean had captured his likeness, but also that Dean seemed to think of him fairly often. He read some of the notes, seeing them become more personal and less informational. He paused at one word, and a sharp sting of sadness was inside his stomach all of a sudden. Friends? It was crossed out, and the word next to it was completely blacked out with pen so Cas couldn't make it out.
Did Dean not think of Cas as his friend?
Before Cas could look at anything else, the door opened. "Hey Sammy, where the fuck is my phone charger--" But then and only then did Dean Winchester actually see that someone else was actually in his room. With his "journal".
"Hello Dean," Cas bit his lip.
"...what the FUCK."
"...I, uh. I found this--"
But Dean wasn't listening. Cas wasn't sure it would matter if he said anything else because he wouldn't hear him: he was too angry. And he didn't know why he was so angry either.
"Give me that!" Dean grabbed it out of his hands. "Don't fucking go through my stuff again, Castiel."
And then he slammed the door, leaving Cas sitting there on the floor like the dumb slut he was. What had just happened?
"Sam," said Cas a few days later. "Does Dean have a journal? Like your father did?"
Sam looked up from his computer, brushed a strand of long hair behind his ear. And then he smirked. "More like a diary. But that isn't manly enough--" he did air quotes. "So he calls it his journal."
Cas didn't understand, but nodded anyway. "I found it. He was upset."
"I don't know why he would be," Sam shrugged a little. "Unless--"
"Unless what?"
Sam had paused in thought. "...unless there was stuff he didn't want you to see in there, I guess."
So there was stuff in there about Dean secretly hating him...?
Cas had to find out the truth. Even if Dean got mad at him again. What if the family he had found just thought of him as dumb slut burden? He'd rather know than not know, even if it hurt.
When Sam and Dean both went out on their next hunt without him, Cas was almost hurt by that. Scratch that, he was, even with Dean's rushed 'it's just some dumb brother thing, Cas, you stay here and do some research, okay?'; he pretended to believe him and not be bothered by it. After the door closed behind them did Cas think it was time to find Dean's journal again.
Cas walked into Dean's room. Obviously it wouldn't be in the same spot, but Cas couldn't make a mess of his room or else Dean would know Cas had been there. Just to be safe, he checked under the bed. It wasn't there. He checked in the closet. Not there either. Not in the dresser, or behind the bed. Finally, he checked underneath the floorboards; there it was. It must've been pretty special to be hidden so well like that.
Now that Dean wasn't there, Cas could really take his time, but he felt like he needed to hurry too. He flipped to the end of the book, skipping most of the stuff he'd already read. Some of the pages were blank. Maybe he hadn't actually written anything else in the notebook? Maybe they'd been telling the truth before?
And then, purely out of curiosity, he flipped to the back of the book.
There was some, entries? Thoughts maybe that Dean wants to even hide from himself? Cas read through a few, reading one about the very first time that they met. Dean had written about Cas' appearance and about how "sparks flew"? Cas thinks back hard about that day, maybe he was too harsh by blowing out the lights.
He continued reading and found an entry about a dream that Dean had, apparently including Cas. Cas doesn't know much about human dreams, never experiencing one himself, but he is pretty sure they aren't supposed to be "wet", as Dean referred to it.
Dean's tone took a turn and he became very angry. Maybe dreaming about Cas made him angry?
I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a faggot. I am not a--
And it went on like that for the rest of the page.
Dean's emotions seem overly complicated, even for a human. He speaks of Cas fondly and then is angry about doing so? What is it about Cas that makes Dean feel this way. Was he a bad friend? Cas always thought they were close, bonded even.
Faggot. That term seems familiar to Cas. He placed Dean's journal underneath the same floorboards as to not cause suspicion. He left his room, making sure that nothing was out of place.
Faggot. That word that Dean says he is not. What does it mean?
Faggot. Cas decided to do some research after all.
Sam and Dean returned to the bunker later that night, and Cas had so many questions. He had learned that a "faggot" was a man that liked other men, but was a very offensive term to the subject. Why would Dean use such a hateful term for himself? Why would Dean fornicate with so many women if he had feelings for men? Why did it matter to humans so much if a man fornicated with another man?
Cas was still very unsure about Dean's feelings for him too, so he tried to avoid Dean. It wasn't easy though. A couple days later Cas got Sam by himself to begin the questioning.
"Sam, Dean calls himself a faggot."
Sam spit out his coffee. "Dude."
"Why?"
"I--"
"He has had intercourse with a lot of women."
Sam couldn't deny that; Dean was a bit of a hoe. "I mean, yeah. He has."
"So why...?"
Sam sighed. "Do you know what bisexual is?"
With his newfound information, Cas gave Dean his space. He wanted so badly to talk to him, to explain that it was okay to feel what he was feeling. Cas was always very fond of Dean in his own way. Dean had shown him emotions, and what free will was. Dean showed Cas what it was like to make his own life. Like he had said before when they'd first met, Dean and Cas were bonded.
As Cas was contemplating about what he would do next, Dean came to sit down at the table across from him.
"Cas, we need to talk."
"We do not have to if you are uncomfortable--"
"Well I'm never going to be comfortable until we talk about it," Dean said, raising his voice. "I'm sorry Cas, it's just I'm.."
"Anxious, yes I know. I can smell the adrenaline running through your system."
"Look, I know you saw the journal and what's inside." Dean paused to think about what to say next. "And I also know that you and Sam have been talking about some of the stuff in my journal. I just want to clear some things up."
Cas could sense that Dean was getting more and more uncomfortable the longer the conversation held out, but he couldn't say anything. Out of all the words in all the languages, he couldn't piece one sentence together that would make Dean feel better.
"I've...been having some things go on. Some thoughts. But it's fine, it's fucking fine, okay? I won't make you feel uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable, Dean," Cas said.
"You can say whatever you want but I'm--" Dean stopped. "Wait. You're not?"
"No."
"Oh. Okay." Dean said. "I don't even know if it's like--real or something."
"Dean..." Cas paused. How could he say this? And make him believe it? "It's all right if it is."
Dean scoffed, his lip curling, eyes hard. "Yeah. It's all right if I'm a fucking faggot, huh Cas."
"Don't say that word."
Dean flinched a little in surprise, his eyebrows going up. "What?"
"Don't say it. It's hurting you. It's still hurting you. I don't want to hear it. If you're a homosexual--"
"I mean, I'm not." Dean said too quickly. "I like chicks. And boobs. And--uh, vaginas."
"It is also perfectly normal if you like--" He made a face. "Dudes and, uh, penis--"
"What's that face for?" Dean looked all of a sudden defensive.
"Oh. I don't say 'dude' often."
"Oh."
"I'm serious. It's okay to be fond of men as well as women."
"...not according to my dad." Dean didn't meet his eyes.
"Not according to mine either," Cas gave a little smile.
"Fuck Chuck!" Sam yelled from the other room.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Dean yelled back.
"Jerk!"
Cas smiled, Dean had seemed to be more relaxed now. It was always a sight to see the Winchester brothers bonding, but Cas felt included this time.
Dean laughed a little. "You should smile more Cas."
"Thank you, Dean."
"I don't know. I just--" He didn't seem quite so angry anymore, but still a little uncomfortable. "I really do like girls."
"Okay."
"But...some guys...I don't know."
"It's okay," Cas said again. He wanted to ask, me? but that seemed to be pushing it. "You don't have to know. But you should be comfortable. Because we are, with you."
A look of relief washed over Dean's face--Cas realized just how tired he looked all of a sudden--and then he tried to hide it. "I mean--duh. I'm fucking awesome, man."
Cas rolled his eyes slightly. "Yes, Dean."
But he was glad that after all that, he finally seemed to get it--that he really was loved.