Work Text:
“Well,” Dean announced when he got into work. “I am officially leaving.”
His coworker looked him over with an expression half puzzled half unimpressed. “You’re... leaving.”
“Yep.” Dean threw his bag on the floor behind the register and hopped onto the only chair in the store. Cas didn’t seem to want it anyway. “Had a telephone interview yesterday with this engineering school upstate.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, watching, satisfied, as Cas’ eyes followed the movement. He desperately wanted to be the Cool Work Guy in Cas’ eyes. “Of course I could still mess it up if I really fuck up my grades this year, but it’s looking good.”
Cas nodded, his lips a thin line. “Good?” he offered.
“Yeah. Good,” Dean said. His eyes skimmed over the familiar racks and shelves packed with clothes. He didn’t know who decorated, but the space was appropriately gross. Christmas lights everywhere, giving off the questionable ambience of a brightly-lit magical forest of new clothes; mistletoe hanging from the high ceiling at the end of every aisle. They might as well have handed out flyers saying buy one, get a free spot to make out in with the date you’re bringing home for the holidays, if only there was anyone around. “What’s going on? Why is your face doing that thing?” He gestured vaguely at Cas' head.
“Frowning?” Cas asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s Christmas day,” Cas said. “We’re stuck at work, and no one is even here.”
“Exactly,” Dean lifted a finger. “No one’s here. We don’t have to deal with annoying people buying stupid clothes.” He gestured around them. “We can just chill. We’re gonna have an annoyance-free shift.”
“You hate quiet shifts,” Cas pointed out.
Dean wrinkled his nose. “Party pooper.”
Cas said nothing for a while.
“I just want to be home, having a proper Christmas, like everyone else is,” he said finally in a voice tinged with bitterness. It hurt that Dean’s feelings were so hopelessly opposite to his. “Don’t you?”
Dean shrugged.
“Didn’t you have any plans?” Cas asked.
“Did you?” Dean subverted casually. To himself, he could admit that he saw it; the cold, the empty stores, the fluorescent brightness lighting up the mall, the knowledge that most other people in the country were preparing for a meal with their families. It was weird. And it was probably sad that Dean preferred being here than anywhere else. No, it wasn’t probably sad. It was definitely sad.
“Yes,” Cas said. “I was going to spend the day with my family before going to Meg’s.”
“Oh. Well, someone has to be here.”
“Yeah. I just wish it weren’t us.”
“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. It seemed like the only acceptable reaction. “Me too.”
He tapped his fingers on the counter, suddenly desperate for a customer to come around, but it was seriously just the two of them. The feeling was starting to sink in: he was sitting on a high metal chair, staring at price tags dangling from shirts, hopelessly seeking affection from someone who would rather be somewhere else.
“What is it?” Cas asked after a moment. It seemed out of left field, but when Dean looked up he realized that he’d been watching him.
“What?” he asked. “Just thinking about mashed potatoes.”
Cas’ expression slipped into skepticism. “Why don’t you want to be home?” he asked, quiet.
Dean shook his head dismissively. “I had a fight with my parents.”
Cas glanced around them. “Is this because...?”
“Cas.” he hissed. “I told you that in confidence.”
Cas made a half-hearted hand gesture at the empty store. “We are in confidence.”
“‘In confidence’ means we forget it ever happened and never talk about it again.”
“That’s not what ‘in confidence’ means,” Cas argued.
“It’s what it means to me,” said Dean.
See, a couple of months ago, Dean fucked up. He’d been working with Cas for almost a year, and although they never saw each other outside of work, and most of their shifts at the store were shared with at least one or two more employees, being stuck in a room together for seven hours several times a week had its effects. Specifically, it had its effects on Dean and on the way his chest tightened whenever Cas was close by. They'd been alone and bored on an afternoon shift, and the conversation strayed, and before Dean knew it he was avoiding questions like “What do you mean by ‘embarrassing’?” and “So there is someone you like?”
To the first one, Dean had answered, “I’m not gonna tell you about my pajamas, Cas. Especially not the embarrassing ones.” He’d smiled. “Especially not the ones that have a sloths in party hats pattern.”
To the second question, he’d muttered, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Cas had nodded, and looked away, and it was left at that for a while. Dean hadn’t asked anything back. The last thing he’d wanted was to know about Cas’ love life. Cas never talked about it – to Dean’s relief, and maybe, a little bit, secret wishful thinking – but he was a good looking guy. He was smart and kind and no-nonsense, and really funny in a very Cas-like way. He probably got asked out all the time. That was fine. It was great. Dean just preferred not to know. Either way, Cas had pushed himself off the wall they’d been leaning on behind the counter and went to help a customer, and then Dean went to help another customer, and when they were both back behind the counter Cas had pressed his lips together and looked sideways at him and said,
“So?”
“So?”
“Who is it?”
“I’m not saying.”
Dean was on the verge of getting nervous. The thing was, he was pretty good at playing it cool when inside he felt like jumping into a pool of mayonnaise and drowning in it. The other thing was that Cas had spent enough hundreds of hours with him to know his reactions inside out. So he could tell Dean wasn’t going to budge, and he could also tell Dean didn’t really mind his nagging. Maybe even hoped the nagging might just get to the point where he would give in to it.
“Just give me a name,” Cas had said. “I won’t ask you anything about them.”
“Why?” he’d asked. Cas’ expression had gone blank. There was a pause.
“I just want to know,” he’d said finally. It was less than convincing.
“No,” Dean had said.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“I’ll take the trash out.”
Dean had turned to looked at him. “But it’s my turn.”
“I’ll do it if you give me a name.”
“Why?”
This time he had a ready answer. “Because I’m bored.”
“No.”
“I’ll buy you a soda.”
“Forget it,” Dean had snapped. “I’m not gonna tell you his name.”
Yeah.
So.
He fucked up.
It had seemed to sink in for Cas and him at about the same moment. Their expressions had both turned horrified, or maybe it was just Dean’s expression that had been horrified. Cas’ had somehow been flustered and gentle at the same time.
He had opened his mouth, and closed it. And opened it again, and said, “Okay.”
Dean had let out a breath of relief. He’d made himself look at Cas deliberately. “Cas, we're talking about this in confidence, a’ight?” He couldn’t let this get out. It was such a small thing that was able to ruin so many things for him. A pronoun with the power of a nuke.
“Of course,” Cas had said.
And here they were.
“It’s not that, anyway” Dean said now. “It’s something else.”
Cas looked at him for a moment, giving him an opening to keep talking, and dropped it when he didn’t.
The atmosphere settled into something muddy. A customer came in, and Dean practically jumped out of his chair to help her. Cas sent him a mean look and stole his chair.
“Sorry,” Dean said when he was back. “I couldn’t bear another moment of sitting in a silent Christmas void.”
“You need to work on your story,” Cas raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It keeps changing.”
"Eh?"
"You said you hate the quiet shifts, then you said you didn't. Now you hate them again."
Dean shot him a nasty look, but it wasn’t as rude – or as effortlessly playful – as it should have been. His heart just wasn’t in it.
His mood seemed to be contagious. The quieter he got, the more Cas’ spirit sank with his. And the more Cas’ spirit sank, the more it reminded Dean of how much Cas didn’t want to be there – the more it hurt to think about that day, about his mistake of saying his, to this person of all people. This person who was now sneaking looks at him like a tormented puppy. Cas really was quite the most intolerable person to be in love with. Everything about him was too beautiful for you to believe you’d ever deserve it.
“Come on,” he said and rose suddenly.
“I really couldn’t be bothered to organize the shelves right now,” Dean grunted. He could tell Cas was trying to catch his eye, and looked at the register pointedly.
“We’re not doing that,” Cas said, and tugged on his arm. Dean’s heart leaped into a pace several beats faster before his brain could even catch up on what was happening. Cas pulled him into the sock section and took two fluffy pairs off the shelf. “We’re sliding.”
Dean looked at the socks. The socks looked at Cas. Cas looked at him.
“You’re gonna buy two pairs of pink glittery socks just to do a sock slide?” Dean lifted his eyebrows lightly, ignoring the fact that this was absurd for so many other reasons.
“I’m going to buy two pairs of pink glittery socks to beat you at doing a sock slide,” Cas corrected.
Their eyes locked now, didn’t mean to, but they did, and Dean was dumbstruck.
If this was what it took to make Cas happy on the dullest Christmas shift in existence...
“Alright?” he managed. The shiny blue in Cas’ eyes seemed to brighten under the fluorescents.
They made sure no one was coming in and then set the borders and pulled socks onto feet. Cas counted down and they both lunged forward, crossing the store front to back in one smooth glide, no one in sight, and for a moment, it was perfect. And then he bumped into Cas’ shoulder to skew him off course, and Cas grabbed his shoulder to readjust his route and then shoved him backwards right near the end.
He spun around, leaning against the storage room doorframe, looking at Dean innocently, as if it was okay to take someone’s heart and then cheat them at Sock Slide.
“You’re slow,” he said, and Dean’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re cocky,” he replied. “For a cheater.”
“I didn’t know you were a sore loser.” Cas patted his shoulder and walked past him. “It’s okay, Dean. You’re good at some other things. Like losing.”
“You pushed me!” Dean insisted and followed him down an aisle to pick up a fallen pair of gloves and put it back in place.
“You pushed me first,” Cas said.
“Sideways, not backwards.”
“Same difference.”
“Ugh.” Dean threw his head back in mock frustration, and his eyes caught something that hung from the ceiling.
Mistletoe.
Cas’ eyes followed his upwards and then trailed back down onto his face.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, uncertainty in the lines of his face.
Dean smiled. “Jumping contest?”
“I’d like to see you lose to me vertically as well as horizontally.”
“I didn’t-” Dean huffed. “A’ight. Bring it on.”
In turns, they jumped under the mistletoe, hands stretched up, fingers reaching. Leaping, stretching, hopping on one foot did not help – there were still five feet between them and their target. And then, while Dean was jumping for his life, Cas got this thoughtful expression. His eyes tracked Dean’s movements, drifted up, registered the impossible distance he was trying to conquer, recognized that he wasn’t going to make it. And then Cas was walking.
“Where you goin’?” Dean threw his hands in the air, not in a reaching attempt this time, but demandingly.
“You keep trying,” Cas said over his shoulder. He disappeared into the storage room, and Dean hurried after him.
“What are you doing?” he pressed.
“None of your business,” Cas said, but it was too late. It only took Dean one look to catch on; Cas’ hand was resting on a big cardboard box. Their eyes met, and in an instant, Cas burst into motion.
“Oh, you wish,” Dean let out and tried to block his way, but Cas dodged and dragged the box into the store.
Dean’s fingers twitched, itching to follow him, tackle him, steal his box – but he turned to the empty storage room instead.
Several moments later, he reappeared in the store, pushing a high cardboard box of his own towards another mistletoe one aisle down from where Cas was, wobbling on top of his box and reaching upwards in an effort that seemed, to be honest, quite futile. Dean climbed on top of his box and reached up, squirming to get higher, pretending his effort wasn’t any more futile. He only had a foot to go. Only a foot. If he could just stretch his hand the right way, push his toes against the box, reach up an inch – or, well, a foot – higher...
It was not Christmas day in that moment. It was not isolated, sad, lonely Christmas day. There was no fight with his parents, or longing for his coworker-slash-friend-slash person he was walking away from in six months’ time and not looking back. There was just the strain in the muscles of his arm, the quiet laughter bubbling in his chest at the impossibility of this situation, the sound coming from the other aisle, of Cas climbing down from his box-
His head shot backwards.
“Giving up so fast?” his mouth was saying, even as his eyes narrowed.
“Giving up on losing,” Cas answered. The moment his feet touched the ground, he jogged back to the registers, kneeling behind the counter. Dean watched him, puzzled, until he reemerged, and Dean was no longer puzzled.
“Don’t even try,” Cas shot at him as he started to climb off of his own box, watching the small box of spare plastic bags as it was placed on Cas’ cardboard box and climbed onto. “This was the last one.”
“You’re smart.” Dean gritted his teeth. “For a cheater.”
“I’m not cheating.” Cas stretched atop the two boxes, and he was close, so close it hurt. It wasn’t a matter of inches; it was a matter of millimeters. He didn’t know how long a millimeter was, but he imagined it was tiny. Tiny as a squint. Half a squint. Or maybe three squints. He really wasn’t sure.
“You cheated in Sock Slide. Once a cheater...” He trailed off absently. His thoughts were already elsewhere. He watched Cas, watched the box straining beneath his feet, watched the box straining beneath that one... and slid off his box.
“What are you doing,” Cas grunted, but he didn’t stop stretching towards the mistletoe. He must have been, like, one fifth of a millimeter away.
“Cheating.” Dean smiled. And then he did something that made Cas stop stretching, and look down at him with confusion: he started climbing up Cas’ box.
First, he clung to the cardboard. Then, more awkwardly, but out of no other choice (except to fall hard and sprain his ankle), he clung to Cas.
“You’re smarter,” he said, and they were at eye-level now.
The boxes were big, and still too small for them to both fit in without pressing against each other in order not to fall. The whole of Dean’s energy went into fighting not to have his breath taken away.
“But I’m taller.” And he reached his hand up and stretched, and closed the tips of his fingers around the leaves of the mistletoe. His lips twisted into what was supposed to be a dignified, scornful smirk, but instead was a stupid grin. Teeth and all. Cas’ features couldn’t help but soften.
“You realize mistletoe is poisonous,” he said.
“I’m not chewing on it, am I?”
They should have stepped down but they stood there, unsteady, taller than anything else in the store, kings of the aisles for a few moments more. Cas’ fingers were loosely wrapped around Dean’s elbow, steadying them both. He looked into Dean’s eyes like Dean couldn’t imagine anyone else looking. Like no one had looked before. And he didn’t move. It felt like the most precious moment of Dean’s life, standing right here, wobbling slightly under the fluorescents. He could feel the warmth of Cas’ breath against his face.
“What...” said a voice from below, suddenly, and there, at the mouth of the aisle, was a person attached to it. “...In hell are you doing, weirdoes?”
They both turned to look at her, dressed in a black leather jacket, not looking one bit bothered by the cold, even though there were specks of white snow on her jacket shoulders.
Meg. Cas’ friend. Or girlfriend. Dean couldn’t tell; but his heart sank all the same. He smiled at Cas awkwardly and slid off the boxes. Meg nodded at him as he passed by her on his way to the register. He didn’t want to get in the way of anything.
Meg leaned against the tower of boxes and crossed her hands, talking quietly. Dean watched Cas’ shoulders tense and untense and move as they spoke. A few words carried over to him. He wished he couldn’t hear, and as he wished it, he leaned in inconspicuously to hear better.
You coming later, yeah?
Once I’m done here, yes.
Need a ride?
I can walk.
Meg snorted and said something Dean didn’t hear. She patted Cas’ shoulder and turned to leave, nodding Dean goodbye on her way out.
“She was around,” Cas said when he joined Dean at the register. Dean gave him his best neutral nod.
“Just asked when I’m getting off.”
“Yeah.”
Cas looked at him for a long moment and then dropped it.
Dean pressed his hand to a spot between his stomach and his chest. Something there was pressing hard, painful, something with edges. Heartbreak. Like a big Dorito. Sharp and straining against his insides, waiting to see how much he could possibly take before they spilled out. He'd never noticed how much heartbreak felt like indigestion.
He felt Cas’ eyes on him again, and made a point not to look his way. He got it. He hated being stuck with a downer on a shift, too. And being grouchy on this shift wasn’t a downer. It was rude. But he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help his wishful thinking. Cas turning to him and saying he wished Dean didn’t have to leave in the summer. Saying he looked at him differently, that he couldn’t help it. Saying Meg and him were just friends.
For the very least, Cas leaving him be and making it easier to forget about all this.
But wishful thinking was called that for a reason.
“We can do Announcement Contest,” Cas said.
Dean shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t feel like it.”
“But Dean. You love Announcement Contest.”
It was some dumb thing they did at the very beginning or very end of shifts, when the mall was nearly deserted, standing just outside the store and competing on who could yell the most embarrassing things and make them sound like an attractive sales offer.
“Announcement Contest’s stupid,” Dean said. “You think I like yelling ‘We have fresh pee’ and getting made fun of by the Toys “R” Us guys?”
“I think you love it,” Cas said.
“Nah, man. I do it so that you’d have to top it with something more embarrassing.”
“I promise I’ll do my best to embarrass myself,” Cas prompted, watching the curve of Dean’s slumped shoulders, waiting for them to lift. They didn’t.
“I know this wasn’t your first option,” Dean said to the cash register. “And that you just want this day to be a little more fun, or a little less... unbearable, but I just-” he looked up at Cas, and the words caught in his throat. How he wanted to say something else. How he wanted things to be different. “I just need to be alone for a little while, okay?”
Cas’ head shook slightly, helplessly. “I'm just trying to help.”
“What?”
“I don't know what's wrong, but I just want to make you feel better.” Cas shuffled his feet, looking at a coffee stain on the floor. “I hate seeing you like this. You've always got this attitude, like nothing can ever bring you down. it hurts to see you defeated.”
Dean let out a huff, almost a laughter. “All of this was to make me feel better? Sock Slide? The pee thing?”
Cas shrugged, casually, as if he could play it cool after everything he’d just said. And he could. There wasn’t anything he could do that would make Dean think he was un-cool. “And to prove I'm better than you at pretty much everything.” He grew serious again. “It will get better, okay?”
Dean smiled a little. “Yeah, thanks, but it won't.”
Cas head tilted slightly in question, but Dean shook his head.
“Forget it.”
“What?”
“No, never mind. I shouldn't've said it.”
“Don’t ‘I shouldn't've’ me.”
Dean glanced at the front of the store, pleading the retail gods, for heaven’s sake, to let someone walk in just this once, to let the power cut off, to let anything interrupt them. But the retail gods were either deaf, or they were dicks.
He let out a nervous, shallow breath.
Out with it.
“I mean, things will work out with my family.” He slid onto the high chair and crossed his arms. “But they won’t be okay for me about...” Well, if it was about to get awkward, at least it wouldn’t be awkward for much longer. He was moving away by summertime. It was the only thing that gave him the courage to talk. “About us.” The word made him cringe. Us. Us was not a thing.
“How do you mean?” Cas asked.
“It...” Dean stared at a spot on the floor, frowned at it. “It kinda bums me out that you're going home with Meg... and not with me.” He shut his eyes hard, just long enough to wince internally at how stupid he sounded. And as he opened them, someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned around, sliding off the chair, Cas stretching to see behind his shoulder. There was an old woman scowling at them on the other side of the counter.
“Sweater vests,” she said in a mildly impatient tone.
“We’ll be right there,” Cas said. He touched Dean’s shoulder, to get his attention, but when Dean turned around and faced him, he opened his mouth and nothing came out.
Dean pressed his lips together awkwardly. “I'm like, hardcore in love with you. So...” He did a halfhearted finger-guns motion. “It's super painful, dude.”
Cas’ eyes were on his face, so intense that Dean looked up to meet them. He was helpless, Dean could see. lost in the silence, miserable, almost. He opened his mouth, hanging on the edge of a word, and–
“Excuse me.” The old lady put her hand on the counter. “I've been standing here for a minute and fifteen seconds with no one even offering to help–”
Cas’ mouth closed. He smiled pleasantly at her. “Let me show you to the sweater vests.” He exchanged another look with Dean before pushing past him gently towards the women’s section.
Dean leaned against the wall behind the register, watching the statistics on the screen, not looking up no matter how many tormented stares Cas sent his way. He could see them from the corner of his eye, and he didn’t care. Cas wasn’t the one going through a slow, slow social death right now. He was the one with the knife. Even if he didn’t want to be. He was the one who was going to forget about this in a few days, dismiss it as an awkward work moment, be able to stop thinking about it.
Vest lady wouldn’t let go, and Dean could kiss her for it. She wanted to try out all the sizes from all the high shelves. Slowly, Dean’s eyes pulled towards them, watching Cas’ sanity unravel, until Cas looked up and their eyes met before Dean could look away. Cas waited for the woman to turn away before dragging a finger across his throat, and Dean broke into a smile in spite of himself.
He didn’t want to do it this way. To tear the space between them open. To let silences take over the comfortable back and forth of their friendship. To wish that Cas would stay away, to not want him around, to feel awkward and guilty around him. He never meant to be the cause of tension between them. But that really, really didn’t matter now. Because he was.
By the time Cas came back, it was almost the end of their shift, and vest lady was nowhere to be seen.
“Was she so annoying you killed her?” Dean asked, his tone friendly, eyes on the register. “Or did she turn out to be a demon from hell and just melted into the ground once she had no more sweater vests to try on?”
“She just left,” Cas replied. He sounded dispirited, confused. “Our prices are too high. Listen...”
Dean tilted his head in his direction to indicate his listening, but he didn’t have it in him to meet Cas’ eye.
“Meg and I aren’t...” Cas shook his head and started over. “It's not...” He pursed his lips. His hands were stuck in his pockets, Dean could see from the corner of his eye. “It’s not like it never crossed my mind.” He paused there, and Dean’s heart fluttered in confusion. It wanted to leap out of his throat at Cas’ words, but sank at his tone. “But you're leaving,” Cas finished, and Dean nodded.
“Right.”
And that was it.
Slowly, they started to wrap up. Closed the registers, then the doors. Washed the floors, shut the lights. Didn’t talk.
“How do you turn these stupid things off?” Dean asked and gestured at the Christmas lights as Cas headed out through the back to throw out the trash.
“They’re plugged into an outlet by the door,” Cas said. “We can take them out on our way out.”
“Kay.” Dean wore his coat and made sure the store keys were in his pocket. He leaned against the counter and waited for Cas to come back. He watched the lights and braced himself for the cold outside. After a minute, he could hear Cas’ steps approach. He could feel when Cas’ eyes were on him, and when they drifted off. He waited for Cas to put his coat on before pushing away from the counter.
“We goin’?”
“You have the keys?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
But instead of heading for the door, Cas paused in front of him.
Dean didn't move. And for whatever reason, Cas wasn't moving, either. He was looking into Dean's eyes, and he leaned closer almost casually.
It just happened. Their mouths found each other, and it almost felt like a trick of the light.
"I'm leaving, though," Dean breathed.
"You're leaving," Cas echoed and closed his eyes. He touched his fingers to Dean's, and their faces brushed in a way that made Dean's chest warm, light. Cas paused long enough for the warmth in Dean's chest to falter. And then die out. And then Dean's stomach sank. And eventually Cas said, "But I don't want to give it up so easy." His eyes refocused on Dean's. "I don't want this to be a what if."
“You sure?” Dean asked. How not to sound too nervous? Too clingy? Cas didn’t seem to mind.
“No.” It hung between them as he tried to formulate an answer. “But if anyone’s worth it...” His eyes slid away, as if he was embarrassed of his feelings. As if he was embarrassed of his feelings. The rest of his sentence died out and tangled with the silence, but he might as well have yelled it in Dean’s face.
“Okay.” Dean trailed a line on the floor with his foot and tried really hard not to smile.
“Yeah.”
“It’s whatever.”
“Yes,” Cas said, relief in his voice. Maybe he was also afraid of sounding too nervous. Too clingy. “It’s... whatever.”
They broke off. Dean turned off the heating and made sure the safe was locked. Cas plugged out the Christmas lights on their way out. Dean held the door open for him, and then they stepped into the cold.