Chapter Text
It was a quarter past noon and his ride was officially late. Castiel Novak was about to leave college and embark on the journey that would begin the rest of his life, and his ride was late. Though that’s what he gets for trusting his friend Anna to connect him with her boyfriend. Anna’s taste in men was not what Castiel would call “acceptable” but sadly there were few people at the University of Chicago making the road trip to New York City. Before he really begins to regret his decision, an old Chevy Impala rumbles to a stop in front of Castiel.
“I told you he was on his way!” Anna, who’d been waiting with Castiel, runs to the car as a young man wearing a beat up leather jacket and a red flannel steps out to embrace her.
They kiss, and then kiss again, and then they’re making out in the middle of the road, as if they’ve completely forgotten Castiel standing there with his luggage.
He clears his throat in hopes they break apart but its barely heard between the sloppy exchange of wet kisses. Castiel rolls his eyes and coughs louder.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Castiel, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Castiel Novak.”
Her boyfriend nods, “Nice to meet ya. The back’s open.”
Castiel grabs his bags, really it’s his whole life stuffed in a few duffels, and places them in the trunk. As he does, he can hear Dean promising Anna to call her as soon as they arrive in New York. They start to kiss again, this time in between sappy “I love you”s and “I’ll miss you”s. Castiel slams the trunk with a loud “thunk”, startling the couple again.
Castiel gives out a half-sincere “Sorry!” before making his way to the passenger side of the car. Dean slides behind the wheel, starting the engine, and Anna waves them off as they head east off campus.
They’ve not been driving long when Castiel lays out the plan for Dean.
“I’ve got it all figured out. It’s an eighteen hour trip, which breaks down into six shifts of three hours each, unless we want to go by mileage, I brought a map and I marked where we can switch.”
Dean swings an arm behind him, rummaging in the back for his cooler where he’s packed a large family size bag of potato chips. Eyes half on the road, half on the food, he replies to Castiel with a “sure thing” before offering the bag of chips to Castiel.
“Oh no, thank you, I don’t eat between meals.”
Dean continues munching on his snack, and it’s silent in the car for a minute or two.
Dean breaks the quiet.
“So, Cas, why don’t you tell me the story of your life?”
This man he has known for ten minutes calls him Cas and Castiel would correct him but he doesn't find it worth his trouble. But Dean asks him this question in a manner that is so nonchalant it throws Castiel off. Not many strangers in his life have asked him such a personal question, or bestowed a nickname, in such a short about of time of meeting him.
He tells the truth. “The story of my life hasn’t happened yet. Nothing’s happened to me. That’s why I’m going to New York.”
“To do what?”
“I’m going to journalism school to become a reporter.”
“So you can write about other people doing things.”
Castiel is thrown, again. This Dean Winchester is sharp, matter-of-fact, and just a bit rude but not so much that it bothers Castiel.
Dean speaks, “Suppose nothing happens to you. Suppose you lived out your whole life and nothing happens, you never meet anybody, you never become anything, and finally you die in one of those New York deaths which nobody notices for two weeks until the smell drifts into the hallway.”
Castiel stares at Dean. Who was this man he was stuck with for the next eighteen hours?
“You sure have a dark side, Dean.”
“Of course I do. I bet you’re on of those perpetually happy people with stars in their eyes.”
“Well sure, I would say I’m a fairly happy person.”
“Do you ever think about death?”
“I guess.”
“You guess. Not me. Cas, I think about death all the time. When I buy a new book, I always read the last page in case I die before I finish it.”
“That doesn’t make you deep. That makes you morbid.” Castiel retorts.
“I’ve seen shit and when it comes down to it, I’m gonna be ready and you’re not.”
“Meanwhile, you’re ruining your whole life waiting for ‘it’.”
Dean glances at Castiel, finally he’s the one thrown in this conversation. He looks at Castiel as if he’s never been challenged like that before and it makes Castiel secretly smug that he could stand his own in this conversation.
They make their way through Illinois, Indiana, and most of Ohio before stopping for dinner. They pass the time discussing everything from worst college experiences (Castiel’s is oversleeping a environmental science midterm, Dean’s is blacking out at a campus bar and throwing up on his Doc Martens), to favorite books (Castiel, Walden, and Dean, Catcher in the Rye). They don’t have a ton in common but Castiel can sense a friendly repertoire building between the two of them. Dean is interesting, funny, and far smarter than he seems. Dean loves old cowboy movies, has parts of The Iliad memorized, and can talk, in detail, about the '70s rock scene. Cas has even accepted Dean's silly nickname.
They’re discussing The Titanic when they pull up to a seedy diner off the interstate.
“You’re absolutely insane.” Dean is arguing with Cas.
“I am not!”
“You would’ve stayed with freaking Billy Zane over young Leonardo DiCaprio?!”
“I would to save my family from financial ruin!”
“You’d rather be in a passionless marriage.”
“Than poor? Absolutely!”
Dean turns off the Impala’s ignition and steps out of the car.
“Hm, I understand.”
“What?”
Dean starts walking away.
“What, Dean?”
“Nothing, Cas, forget about it.” He waves Cas off.
“No, seriously, tell me.”
They enter the diner.
Dean turns to Cas and stops. “You’ve obviously never had great sex.”
Cas is flabbergasted. “I have too! I’ve had plenty of great sex!”
The patrons stare at him and Cas realizes just how loud his outburst was. He exasperatedly follows Dean to the booth he’s already sat at. He slides in on the other side of the plastic covered seat, flustered, and smoothes down the front of his shirt.
“With whom?”
“What?”
Dean looks up from his menu, “With whom have you had this great sex with?”
Shocked, Cas stutters, “I’m not telling you!”
“Alright.” Dean shrugs, nonplussed, and looks back down at the menu.
A beat.
“Ishim, if you must know.”
“Ishim?! Like Intro to PoliSci TA Ishim?! No.”
“What, ‘no’?”
“You did not have great sex with your TA. Especially Ishim. Want to know how the electoral college works? Ask Ishim. The socio-economic politics of the Middle East? Ishim’s your guy. But slamming ass is not Ishim’s speciality.”
Cas scoffs as the waitress walks up to their table.
“What can I get y’all?”
“I’ll have the cheeseburger, please.” Dean orders.
“I'd like the chef salad please with the oil and vinegar on the side and the apple pie a la mode. I'd like the pie heated and I don't want the ice cream on top I want it on the side and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it if not then no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it's real if it's out of a can then nothing but the pie.”
Both the waitress and Dean look at Cas like he’s from another planet. The waitress walks away to the kitchen as Dean shakes his head.
“What?” Cas innocently asks.
“Nothing, nothing.” Dean replies. “So why did you break up with Ishim?”
“How did you know we broke up?”
“Cuz you wouldn’t be here with me if you hadn’t, you’d be with Big Dick Ishim.”
“Dean! Not that it’s any of your business but I broke up with him because he was very jealous.”
Dean hums in interest.
Cas continues, “And just so you know, I am not “with” you.”
Dean raises an eyebrow.
Cas is calculating the tip for their meal when he catches Dean staring at him.
“What?” He touches his cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”
“You’re a very attractive person.”
Cas blushes, a deep red. “Thank you.”
They get up to leave the diner, walking towards the Impala.
“Anna never mentioned how attractive you are.”
“Well probably because I don’t play for her team.”
“Still, objectively, you’re attractive.”
“Excuse me, but you are dating Anna.”
“So?”
“So?! You’re hitting on me!”
Dean scoffs, “I am not.” He stops at the car door. “Ok, let’s say I was. What do you want me to say now? I take it back? Alright, I take it back.”
Cas stands on the opposite side, across the car. “You can’t! You already said it." He takes a deep breath. "Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”
They open their doors and get into the car.
“So what do you want to do for tonight? Go to a motel?” Dean winks. “See what I did is I didn’t pretend it never happened.”
“Dean.”
“What?”
“We’re gonna be friends. Okay? That’s it.”
“Great! Friends.”
Dean starts the ignition and gets back on the interstate, climbing in speed.
Castiel props his arm on the window and leans his head on his hands, looking out at the fields zipping by and the dark night sky stretching on and on. On his face is a soft smile. The gentle sounds of Joni Mitchell’s Blue play on the speakers when Dean suddenly speaks.
“You know, we could never really be friends.”
“Wh-Why not?”
“Seriously, and don’t take this as a come on, it’s strictly scientific, but you can’t be friends with someone you find attractive.”
“That’s not true at all, I have plenty of friends I would say are good-looking and sex is totally not involved.”
“No, you don’t.”
Cas looks at him quizzically, “Yes, I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Are you saying I don’t have friends?”
“No, I’m saying they all want to sleep with you. It’s human nature.”
“Is not. And no, they don’t!”
“No person can be friends with someone they think is attractive, they’ll always want to have sex with them.”
“What if the person doesn’t want to have sex with them?”
“Doesn’t matter, one of you is already thinking about it and so the friendship is cursed.”
Cas pauses, thinks.
“Then I guess we can’t be friends.”
Dean looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Guess not.”
“Shame. You were the only person I knew in New York.”
They look at each other. There’s a twinkle of something in Dean’s eyes and Cas’ stomach does a little swoop.
Dean slows the Impala to a stop in front of the Union Square park entrance and pops the trunk. They both get out and walk to the back, Cas takes his bags and slings them over his shoulder.
“Thanks for the ride, Dean.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Cas extends his hand. “It was nice knowing you.”
Dean smiles and shakes Cas’ hand. “Have a good life.”
Cas smiles back. “You too.”
Cas turns his back to Dean and the Impala and walks away. If he had turned around, he would've seen Dean leaning on the Impala, watching Cas disappear into the crowd.