Chapter Text
It just fucking figured. He hated flying, so the universe had to delay his flight so he had longer to freak out about it. He missed his Baby. Driving Humvees in the desert had nothing on cruising flat Midwestern highways in the Impala. Though last time he was on leave he almost made Sam pee himself when he had jerked the car into the path of an oncoming semi to avoid a plastic bag that had suddenly floated onto the road. “Coulda been a bomb man.” He had joked gruffly. His brother had shot him the concerned and slightly irritated bitch face but said nothing.
Now here he was. Stuck at the D.C airport nearing midnight, hundreds of miles away from his car and even more from his brother. Sam was at Stanford. His Baby at Bobby’s. Crap, Bobby! Dean had forgotten to call him and let him know he’d be late. Should he just text him? Better not. If his constant complaining about the messages the phone company sent him were anything to go by, he wouldn’t appreciate it. Though he wouldn’t like getting woken up either. However it was better to wake him up than to let him get to the airport to pick Dean up way too early.
The soldier shifted in his chair and dug out his cell. The lights at the departure waiting room had dimmed at midnight and he flinched at the bright screen. He quickly found Bobby’s number and pressed call. It rang for a good long while and Dean steeled himself for a pissed of lecture about waking old men up. The voice that finally answered however was smug and oily and English. “Bobby Singer’s phone. This had better be important. You’re interrupting.”
“Crowley?” Dean said in shock. There was the sound of a scuffle and Bobby’s voice faint – “Dammit, I told you he could leave a message.” Bedsprings definitely squeaked, Crowley laughed then apparently got elbowed in the ribs if the loud “ouff!” was anything to go by. Suddenly Bobby’s voice was loud and clear. “What do you want boy?” He was out of breath and Dean could hear the daggers he was shooting at the still giggling Brit.
“My innocence back. And a stiff drink. What the hell Bobby?”
“What’re you callin’ for? Aren’t you on a plane?”
“That’s the thing. My flight was delayed. The next one doesn’t come in until four in the morning so I won’t be there until about nine or ten. Depending on how long the stop in Chicago is. I thought I should call you and let you know you didn’t have to be up at the ass crack of dawn. I didn’t realize you’d be busy.”
There was a moment of tense silence then Bobby sighed. “Yeah about that. Dean, I know this is probably a big shock to you and -”
Dean interrupted him. “Bobby I don’t care that you’re sleeping with a guy. Am I surprised? Yeah I am. But I got a surprise for you, ‘cause I like guys too. Almost as much as I like chicks. So I get it.” Dean paused and let that sink in. Bobby just gave a surprised “humph”. Apparently Crowley could hear him over the phone, “That’s interesting.” The pawn broker muttered. Dean rolled his eyes and continued, slightly louder. “I’m a little concerned you’re dating Crowley of all people, but it’s your life and your choices. Just tell that sneaky bastard I’ll be expecting to have a little chat with him when I get there, something along the lines of ‘if you break his heart I’ll break you’.”
“Oh, I’m terrified.” Crowley oozed, voice much closer to the phone than before.
“Stop it you two.” Bobby said. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to be at each other’s throats once you actually get here. Call me before you take off from Chicago alright? So I know when to leave.”
“I will. And you’ll bring my Baby?”
Bobby chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll bring your car. I’ll make you a hamburger when we get back too, so you don’t have to grab airport food, how’s that sound?”
“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in months Bobby. You’re a genius.”
“Thanks kid, I try. You need anything else?”
“No I think I’m good.”
“Alright.” There was a pause, neither man wanting to hang up but having nothing else to say. Crowley intervened snatching the phone from Bobby. “Love, hugs and kisses all around. Later, Squirrel.” The line went dead. Dean chuckled to himself and scrubbed a hand over his face. God the next few months were gonna be interesting. So Bobby had Crowley now, and Sam had told him just the other day that he was going to ask Jess to marry him. It made Dean feel very single. The fact that he only had one tour left and no future besides fixing cars in Bobby’s garage didn’t do anything to help.
Dean absently kicked at his duffle bag. He hadn’t needed to check in luggage. Everything fit in his carry on. Including a half-eaten bag of pretzels which he was considering getting out. He glanced around the room. The only other occupants were an elderly couple. They were fast asleep, slumped together a pink crochet blanket covering them. Yep. Dean was very single and unlikely to bother anyone with pretzel crunching. If his damn iPod wasn’t out of battery he could listen to some AC/DC or something and have himself a good old time. He could always charge the thing but then he’d have to move closer to the plug, and he liked the spot he was at now. His back was to the wall and he had a good view of all exits. He was also out of the range of the bone frosting chill of the air conditioning. He debated trying to sleep but decided against it. There was too much noise in the darkened airport and three or four hours sleep would only make him more tired. Had he been on duty, neither of these would have mattered. He had a job and he did it and he dealt with it. But somehow as soon as he stepped back into the States his body and mind became a train wreck of conflicting behavioral patterns and thought processes. Soldier and civilian overlapped for a while. It was exhausting running two programs at once. Still he was thankful he still had civilian left in him. Even if there was a paranoid hyper sensitive edge to it.
And Dean had never had a full on PTSD panic attack. The closest he had come was one night when he and Sam and Jess had rented a movie and Sam had put popcorn in the microwave. The majority of Dean’s brain recognized the repetitive popping noise for what it was, but a small portion was screaming at him to run, to grab his gun, to listen for orders, to give orders, to move. So he did. He pushed past Jessica to the door and out to the stairs which he took two at a time until he made it to the Impala. He had sunk down onto the still warm asphalt, the sky clear and alive with stars, not rifle fire. He pressed his head and shoulders into the metal of the driver’s side door and breathed. He was in fucking California. He was fine. No flashbacks of attacks plagued his mind, no confusion, no anger or fear. Just the same adrenaline response to freaking popcorn as gunfire. He hadn’t been back very long. It was just training. His heart was pumping and his fingers twitched around some phantom rifle, but it was okay. If it ever happened again he’d go talk to someone he told himself. Told Sam and Jess. And two months later he was back in the thick of it where his response to gunfire was perfectly normal. But damn, one more tour and his time was up. He could sign on for more but he didn’t want too. He loved being soldier he really did and he was good at it. But he was just done and couldn’t explain it.
Dean finally gave in and reached for the zipper of his bag for his wallet. What he would do was plug in the iPod and just keep an eye on it from where he was. It didn’t take long to charge really and in the meantime he’d have a few pretzels since his chewing would interrupt the music anyway. But first he was gonna go pee and get a drink from a vending machine. He left his bag where it was, figuring the old couple was enough of a deterrent for any thief that might stumble by and hoped no one called bomb control on an unattended cameo duffle with Winchester embroidered on it.
He quickly went about his business and returned to his terminal casually swigging from a bottle of orange juice which he had irrationally chosen over a Coke, Sam’s voice in his head about healthy choices. Well screw Sam, one o’ clock in the morning without any form of breakfast food was not the time for orange juice. Dean came to an abrupt stop. There was someone in his corner. Two seats to the left of his duffle was a man in a trench coat. A small old fashioned suitcase sat beside him and a trim laptop bag sat on his lap. He was talking softly on the phone and scribbling something down on a note pad. There was plenty of seats available so Dean was a little irritated the man had pick one so close to him.
Dean sauntered over, casually eyeing the man. Everything about him was rumpled. His coat, his suit, his hair, even what Dean could see of his face. As Dean reached his chair the man looked up at him. He watched as the man’s bright blue eyes roved over him, studiously taking Dean in head to toe, never pausing in either writing or talking in some weird swishy tongue. It was slightly unnerving so Dean threw himself in his chair never taking his eyes off the guy’s face. He stretched his legs over his duffle and gave the guy a cocky smile. He smiled wider when he saw the guy blush and look down at his notebook. Dean continued to stare at the man’s profile. Something about him seemed familiar but then Dean had seen so many worn out looking people in his life it was possibly just the exhaustion rolling off the man that he identified with. The man pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up. He tucked his notebook into his laptop bag before looking up at Dean again. Blue eyes confidently met green. “My apologies for intruding on your space. I can leave if you want.” The man had a surprisingly deep voice. Dean shrugged. “Its fine. I was gone anyway. And the air conditioning in here is a bitch. This is the only place I don’t feel like freaking Elsa.” The man cocked his head curiously at him. “I don’t understand that reference.”
Dean flapped his hands in front of him. “You know, from Frozen. Let it go and all that crap.”
“Ah, the Disney movie based off of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Snow Queen. I haven’t seen it.”
“Yeah well, it was pretty popular with the guys in my unit. When you got little kids at home that are obsessing over it, it pays to watch it. We watched a lot of parodies of Let it go on YouTube too. One of my favorites was this traffic reporter from Cincinnati..” Dean trailed off. The dude probably didn’t care. He was listening intently though, his head still at that confused slant. “Do you have children?” He asked politely. Dean shook his head. “No man. I’m as free as a bird. Dean Winchester by the way.” Dean lent forward and offered his hand. The other man grasped it firmly. “Castiel Novak.” Dean suddenly realized why he looked so familiar. “You’re that translator! The one that came with that senator Naomi something!” Castiel squinted at him. “Yes I toured with the senator several months ago across the Middle East, forgive me if I don’t remember you, we went to many camps.”
“No man it’s cool. All us soldiers look a lot alike with our guns and cameo. Frankly I only remember you because of your name.” And because Benny kept pointing the guy out saying he looked like Dean’s “kind of crazy”. But he wasn’t about to tell the guy he looked good in a bullet proof vest, that would just be weird.
“Ah yes I have been informed it is an odd name. And apparently a rather feminine one. I get mail addressed to Miss Novak quite often.” Cas smiled good humoredly. Dean laughed. “I’m sure. So where are you headed if you don’t mind me asking?” Castiel leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. If he was trying to smooth it down he was failing because it stuck up wilder than before. “North Dakota.” He said. “My brother Gabriel lost a family heirloom in a poker game and I have been tasked with politely asking for it back.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Luckily he had the good fortune to catch me between assignments or else he would have had to deal with his own problems for once.” Castiel winced when he stretched his legs out in front of him. Dean waved his bottle at him. “You been sittin’ too long?”
Cas leaned forward and rubbed his left knee. “Probably. Also the cabin pressure of airplanes tend to aggravate my joints.”
“That sucks. Me, I just hate flying. It’s as boring as hell, and I get hyper aware of how high up I am. And you never know what kind of person you’re gonna get stuck beside.” Dean felt stupid complaining about that stuff when the guy was aching but it all just came tumbling out. “Oddly enough helicopters don’t bother me a bit.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” Cas said. “Given your profession.”
Dean laughed. “Yeah. So who do you work for? You’re not military.”
“I’m freelance. I’m ex-FBI so I have many connections. I work mainly for various state departments.”
“Wow. So why’d you leave the FBI?”
Castiel hesitated, a strange look coming into his eyes. “It’s quite a long story.”
“Listen man I’m sorry. I’m being way too nosy. Just tell me to shut up, okay?”
“No you’re fine I don’t mind talking, I’d just rather not talk about that. How about you tell me where you’re headed?”
Dean was relieved the guy hadn’t gotten mad at him or clamed up. The look of panic that had crossed his face had concerned Dean. It was still there slightly, that funny look, so Dean decided to make it go away. “I am headed to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A buddy of mine, well he’s practically my dad; he’s driving my Baby to the airport so I can drive her back to his place. Baby is a 67’ Chevy Impala. She’s gorgeous – God I miss that car. Anyway, I’m gonna work at Bobby’s garage for a few months until I get deployed for my last go round. I honestly don’t know what I’m gonna do after that. Maybe spend some quality time with my little brother Sam and his girlfriend Jess. They’re gonna be getting’ married sometime in the next year or so. At least I’m pretty positive she’ll say yes. He’s gonna propose next weekend. After their midterms or something. They go to Stanford. Sam’s gonna be some big shot lawyer.” Dean reached over and snatched the pretzels from his bag. “Want one?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
They both end up moving over a seat so they’re sitting next to one another, the pretzels between them. They discuss the Middle East, crappy plane rides, food - Castiel doesn’t normally like dessert, which Dean bemoans with “But pie man!” Cas is redeemed when he mentions his love of hamburgers. Turns out Gabriel lives in Oakland California. And Dean’s friend Charlie and Cas’ sister Anna both go to UCLA. Before Dean knows it people are trickling into the terminal and its almost four. “Oh shit! I didn’t charge my iPod!”
“We’ve still got half an hour. It can probably be mostly charged in that time.”
“You’re right.” Dean stood up, his headphones dangling around his fingers. “Don’t let me forget to play you that song I was talking about.”
“I wouldn’t dream about it. When you get back can you watch my things? I need to use the restroom.”
“Sure man.” Dean plugs his charger into the station and returns. Cas smiles at him as he leaves, his trench coat flaring out as he walks. Dean chuckled at the surprisingly dramatic movement. He keeps a watchful eye on the charging station as more people come up to plug in their phones. He’s less worried about someone stealing the thing than he is someone unplugging it.
Dean has been really enjoying the past few hours, and kinda regretted not talking to the guy when Benny had pointed him out. But then again a combat zone isn’t the best place to go flirting with important people’s translators. And Cas probably would have brushed him off. He’d had two other phone calls while they had been talking and his switch into business mode was almost scary. There was no way he’d take any crap from some cocky lieutenant out in the field. Of course Dean wasn’t full on hitting on the guy right now. Just some causal flirting, he wasn’t trying to get into the guys pants. Sam had been on him to make friends who weren’t military since that part of his life was going to be over soon. Dean’s protest of “but Charlie” was met with, “your own age Dean.”
Cas returned quickly, expertly texting and navigating the busy terminal. Dean chuckled to himself. Cas was one of those people that were constantly checking things on their phone, though for the translator it seemed less like browsing Facebook and more like managing several people at a time. He had a pretty calm vibe for someone whose mind was on a hundred different things at once. “Hello Dean.” Cas said when he slumped back in his chair.
“Hey. Boarding is in about twenty minutes.” Dean said.
“Thank God.” Cas said.
“What? You don’t like my company?” Dean pressed a hand over his heart, mock offended. Cas grinned at him. “Nope. Can’t stand you. That’s why I’m most definitely not going to snag a window seat and make you sit in the middle and talk to me. Because I don’t like you. You’d probably steal my animal crackers.”
“I am many things Novak, but a thief isn’t one of them. I’d simply charm you into giving them to me.”
“I don’t think you’d have to try very hard. I’ve given greater things to lesser men.” The grin had turn into a smirk.
“Is that a cryptic way of telling me you’re easy? Or you just don’t really like animal crackers that well?”
Cas shrugged, “Both? Neither? Depends.”
“On what?”
“How charming you are.”
A shiver went through Dean that got rid of all thought of “just friends”. He leaned toward Cas with a smirk of his own. “Oh I am so gonna charm your animal crackers away from you.”