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Castiel was running. He was running like his life depended on it, because at 16, it felt like it did.
Castiel’s parents weren’t nice. They weren’t the kind to kiss booboos, or check the closet for monsters, or tell him they were proud of him. It was mostly his mother. His father was more neglectful, and didn’t have the time to actively yell at Castiel the way his mother did. She never raised a hand to him, but she was the first to criticize him.
Castiel wasn’t afraid of her, he just avoided her at all costs. He planned on getting the hell out as soon as he turned 18. Once he was out, he planned on never speaking to her again. He didn’t care if he spoke to his father, he barely does now.
Anyway, no one was winning parent of the year anytime soon. To make matters worse, it was a bad week. Castiel’s mother had a project at work that was stressing her out, and she was taking it out on him. Castiel also managed to get a B- on a math exam, and that enraged her. Castiel was just tired. Tired of all her shit, tired of being mad at her, tired of being perfect, just tired. So tonight, under the light of the moon and after the last of his neighbors had turned off their lights, he ran to the only place that had ever felt like home.
Castiel’s thighs were burning, and his lungs felt like collapsing, but still he ran faster. He ran like a madman until he finally came to the familiar neighborhood.
The neighborhood was not in the “nice” part of town, and the houses were much smaller than his own. But even so, he felt much more comfortable walking these streets than the ones that lead to his front door.
Castiel finally let himself catch his breath when the house he was looking for finally came into view. It was nondescript in every sense of the word. It wasn’t the nicest house in the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst one either. The house was one story, and the outside used to white, but it needed a fresh coat of paint about five years ago.
Castiel followed the dry yard around to the back of the house. From there, he walked to the closest windowsill, and found the little piece of metal sitting on the ground, left from the last time he had been here. He grabbed it, and jimmied the latch on the window open until he could crawl his way inside. He claimed through the window, onto the desk below, and onto the chair with practiced ease. Even though he made almost no noise, the light still flickered on moments later.
“Cas?” Dean’s sleep roughened voice whispered.
“Yeah, it me.”
“You okay, babe?” Dean asked, barely opening his eyes, but Castiel could tell he had his boyfriend’s full attention.
“I’m okay. Just... tired,” Cas said with a sigh.
Dean made a grabby hands motion and Cas smiled at him. Castiel stripped until he was in nothing but boxers. He crawled into bed behind Dean, and pulled him flush with his front.
“Love you,” Dean mumbled before falling back asleep.
“I love you too, my darling.”