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“Ugh!” Dean groans slamming his laptop closed with a little more force than he means to. “This is fricken pointless!”
Sam rolls his eyes, pausing from his research and leans back into his chair. “Bobby wouldn’t have sent it if he didn’t think it was important. There has to be something there.”
“There’s nothing there!” Dean exclaims waving a hand angrily at the the computer. “I’ve been at this for an hour and there’s just ‘bunch of static.”
Sighing, Sam raises his arms over his head stretching. As he brings his arms down he looks at his watch. “Guess it’s getting kind of late. Maybe call it a night and listen to it again in the morning?”
“How ‘bout you listen to it in the morning,” Dean grumbles giving the laptop another glare. “Seriously man, I can’t even pick up the slightest pitch change.”
Dean watches as Sam snorts, rising from the table, pushing in his chair slowly. “Right, like you really want to do research.”
“At this point I think they’re both equal on the torture scale,” he nods to his scattered pile of papers over the table. “Find anything yet?”
“No,” he says with a shrug. “Nothing we don’t already know, anyway. Family use to live there in the eighteen hundreds, giant fire, one kid went missing, assumed to have died in the fire.”
Dean leans back against the chair with his arms above his head stretching. His back pops a few times and he groans at how good it feels. “I’m gunna try and call Bobby again and see if he’s back in cell area. Maybe then he can explain what the hell I’m suppose to be to hearin’.”
“Sounds good,” Sam says with a wave before turning down the hallway to walk to his room. “‘Night.”
Dean hums in response, Bobby’s number already dialed. It doesn’t even bother ringing before the call goes straight to voicemail. Irritated, but still oddly wired and antsy from sitting around the Bunker all day doing nothing, Dean gets up and paces into the kitchen.
He opens the fridge looking around for something that might catch his eye. He’s not particularly hungry and to be honest beer doesn’t even sound too appealing at the moment. Huh, maybe he’s getting sick.
Closing the door Dean wanders over to the coffee machine and dumps out the old grinds in the trash before pouring in new ones. Deciding that if Bobby is going to be MIA for longer than a day then Dean better get use to listening to the sound of static over and over again. Chuck knows Sammy wont let him rest until there’s answers.
Just as the coffee starts to percolate Dean hears the familiar sound of feathers from behind him. He can’t help the smile already starting to twitch on his lips as he turns around.
Castiel stands there in his usual suit and trench coat ensemble, hair throughly mused. His bright blue eyes are forced on Dean’s. For a brief moment Dean’s breath catches as it usually does after going weeks of not having their usual fix of staring into each other’s eyes.
“You’re making coffee,” Castiel says stating the obvious.
The deep rumble of his voice sends goosebumps over Dean’s skin as a shiver goes up his spine. Castiel squints at him, tilting his head in the usual way that Dean definitely does not find cute or remotely attractive.
Clearing his throat, Dean turns back to the coffee which is nearly done. There is enough in the pot, at least, for a cup to hold him over now. He carefully pours himself a cup, cradling the mug in his hand before turning around. Castiel is still in the same place, but at least those eyes are drawn somewhere else. Fuck, it’s really bad tonight. Dean wonders a second when the last time it was that he got laid. Mentally going through the past weeks, he flinches when it slips over into months. In between Bobby and Sam finding them cases twenty-four seven, they have been really busy. Shit, it’s been at least a week since he jacked off in the shower.
“New case?” Castiel’s gravelly voice brings Dean out of his thoughts.
Thankful that Castiel is turned away from, Dean runs a hand down his face trying to will his blush to go away. What the fuck. He’s acting like some type of thirteen year old girl.
“I mean, kinda, I guess?” He walks back towards the table, laying his mug down next to the closed computer. He motions for Cas to take a seat as he sits down. “Bobby found us a case that he couldn’t take. He’s off in Bum Fuck Nowhere and can’t even get cell service. Anyway, he emailed us this recording but I’ve listened to it a hundred times and can’t hear jack.”
Castiel slips into the seat beside Dean. “What is he thinking it is?”
“Ghost, probably,” Dean sighs pulling his laptop to him and opening it up. “Back in the eighteen hundreds there was this huge fire. Burnt the house and family’s farm. Everyone got out, but one of their kids went missing, They never discovered anything. Obviously the house has been rebuilt over time. Nothing really recorded or suspicious that sounds like a ghost all these years until now.”
“That doesn’t sound…”
“Yeah man,” Dean huffs laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“So what did Bobby say would be on this recording?” Cas asks, leaning forward, closer to Dean.
For a moment Dean almost forgets what he’s doing. Castiel’s arm brushes against his and he feels heat rush over the area. He usually moves his arm back at this point, his father’s words echoing inside his mind that these feelings and urges he has aren’t normal. Aren’t something a man – a hunter – should be feeling.
The warmth coming from their touch (which is fucking stupid, because they’re both wearing shirts covering their skin) is something that Dean wants. Allowing himself to be honest with himself for the moment, it’s something he’s wanting for years. When was the last time someone just touched him? Not to pull him out of danger, or push him out of the way, but something gentle. Something that means something.
Dean sneaks a glance over to Cas who is looking at the computer in question. Somehow it makes the big idiot look even more cuter than normal when he’s trying to figure out something. Clearing his throat, Dean scoots his chair right next to his and shifts so his arm presses more firmly against Cas’, as his leg brushes up against his. Castiel’s eyes flick up to his with a look Dean refuses to think too much about. Instead, he ducks his head to look back down at the computer. Castiel doesn’t move his arm or leg away, and Dean tries not too focus too much about that either.
“So, this is it.” He waves his hand at the dark screen.
“It’s a black screen,” Castiel replies flatly.
Rolling his eyes, Dean press the screen so the audio plays. It’s a one minute and two second clip, but after listening to it multiple times it feels like forever. Instead of paying attention to the static coming from the speakers, Dean focuses to the weight of Castiel against him. He lets his mind start to wander off with a daydream for moment before he hears a gasp and Castiel’s arm moves away from his.
“What –”
“You didn’t hear that?” Castiel asks, tapping the screen to pause it.
Dean looks back at the screen that’s paused at fifty-eight seconds, then back at Cas. “Uh, no man. Pretty sure there’s nothing there. I’ve listen to it –”
“My hearing is able to pick up things your human ears cannot,” he says as if talking about the weather. “There is a voice. A little girl’s voice.”
Dean snaps his eyes back to the computer, glaring at it as if it personally betrayed him. “What the fuck! I’ve been listening to this thing all night and I swear –”
“Your speakers might not be able to let you hear it. You need something more contained. Like those, um, what Sam puts in his ears when he runs in the morning.”
“Earphones?” Dean asks raising and eyebrow in question.
“Yes, those. Perhaps listening through one of those with lessen the static feedback and you’ll be able to concentrate on the voice.”
“Huh,” Dean says already getting to his feet. “I never thought about that.”
“Are you getting those earphones?”
“Gross, no,” Dean says making a face. “I don’t want Sam’s ear gunk in mine. I’m goin’ to grab mine. They’re in my room.”
He half walks, half jogs to his room, throwing open his door. Dean walks to his beside table and unplugs his headphones from his IPod. He’s not fancy like Sam, he’s still got the corded ones, but they’re as good as anything for what they need.
Hurrying back down the hallway and to the table, Castiel is still sitting where he left him, patiently waiting. Dean plops back down into his chair, plugging the earphones into the proper place. He sticks one in his right ear, and offers Cas the other one. Castiel tilts his head at the earphone making it completely impossible for Dean not to smile at.
“The voice is at forty-two seconds,” he says matter of factly.
“Just take the damn things and put them in. Let me know if there’s anything else,” Dean huffs, tossing it at him.
Dean watches Cas take the earbud and look at it questioning for moment before leaning closer to Dean and pushing it into his ear.
“The cord makes it hard not to –”
“It’s fine,” Dean interrupts more sharp than he meant to.
The warm breath from Castiel’s words by his ears has him shifting in his seat for a whole other reason than to try and get closer to him. For fucks sake he really needs to get laid before he does something he can’t take back.
“Are you going to press play?” Castiel asks, his lips even closer to his ear this time.
Unsure how his voice will come out if he answers, Dean leans forward enough to restart the audio from the beginning. He presses play and tries not to focus in on how good Castiel’s body feels against his. Or how his head is slowly wanting to lean into Cas’ lips. Dean licks his lips contemplating some nonchalant way to go about playing off leaning more into Cas when he hears it.
“You left me.”
It’s a whisper, no doubt from a little girl, but it’s there. He watches as the audio continues until the end, but nothing else is there.
Excited that he finally heard something, he turns his head to share his excitement with Cas. Their noses brush together and Dean’s eyes go wide as they lock with Castiel’s. Forgetting that they were so close, Dean’s body screams at him to close the distance between their lips.
Castiel’s face is unreadable, but his eyes are soft, searching his. The look itself holds something…something more than Dean wants to think about. More than he can handle. He wants, oh God does he want, but everything he touches breaks. If he does this, he can’t take it back. This is Cas. His literal angel, and if he gives in, then…
Dean pulls back and takes the earphone out of his ear. Before he turns away he catches a look of hurt flash over Castiel’s face before it’s gone.
“M’gunna tell Sammy,” Dean mumbles, ducking his head hoping Cas can’t see how red his face is.
“I’ll wait here, then,” Castiel whispers.
As Dean walks down the hallway he tries to weigh the pros and cons of actually waking up his brother. This is definitely something that can wait till morning, but he almost just… Groaning, Dean pauses outside Sam’s door and wonders if he could get away just ducking inside his room and warding it from angel’s until Cas leaves. Fuck, he’s such an idiot.
Dean knocks on the door, shaking his head trying to get himself to focus. “Sammy, hey, I just found something on the recording I think you should hear.”
He hears a shuffle from inside the door and sighs. Well, at least with Sam there he is less likely to make an ass out of himself. Maybe after he shows him, he’ll be able to make it to the bars before they close and find a girl drunk enough to take him home. Maybe he’ll even be lucky enough to find one with dark hair and blue eyes.