Work Text:
Castiel stayed up late on weekends to watch the list of TV shows on his DVR. Never one to go out with his coworkers, there were rumors at work that Castiel was uptight and driven by his need to excel at work to have any relationships. He heard other rumors that said he was a shut-in who spent his time watching cartoon porn on Saturday nights. It wasn't like Castiel preferred being alone when the world around him enjoyed each other's company, it was just easier.
His coworkers were genial, but Castiel wouldn't consider anyone a friend, so he was startled early Sunday morning by a call to his landline. Castiel ignored it, figuring it was a prank call his neighbor warned him about, but when the calls continued going through, interrupting Castiel's viewing of "Lost," Castiel paused the show and answered the phone.
"Hello?" he answered gruffly, ready to deliver an empty threat to whatever teenager was on the other line.
"Castiel?" a man asked.
The caller didn't sound young, though the voice was soft, hesitant. Castiel became aware of the time, the possible emergency that came with a quiet voice used in a phone call late at night.
"Yes, this is Castiel."
"Castiel!" the caller said, excited and loud.
"Who is this?" Castiel asked, pulling the phone away from his ear, prepared for another outburst.
"Castiel! I am so sorry for calling you so late, but I didn't know who else to call, and I told everyone I was good to drive when they all left, but that was before I had a few more drinks and before I remembered my brother is out of town--girl troubles--and now the bartender won't give me my keys back, and I've been meaning to call you anyway, so I figured now's the best time, right?"
Castiel resisted hanging up the phone only because the caller seemed to know him and was inebriated and in need of Castiel's assistance. Castiel was accustomed to dealing with drunkards after his days spent backpacking in Europe when he spent a majority of his time making out with his hired English guide in an attempt to keep Balthazar from getting them into trouble with the locals.
"All right," Castiel said.
"Great! I'm at the RedDoor on El Street. I'll wait for you outside. Thanks Castiel!"
Castiel considered staying home, having not technically agreed to pick up the drunk, but the man chose to call Castiel for a reason, and Castiel was curious of the man's identity. He shut off his TV, not bothering to change out of his pajamas, and grabbed his coat before leaving.
He was unfamiliar with the nightlife in town, but he'd heard enough talk at work about the bar down El Street that it wasn't hard to assume the lone man leaning against a building with a red door was his mystery caller.
Castiel approached the man, waving to get his attention from where the man was squinting down at his phone. He looked up, and Castiel recognized him as Sam from legal. Castiel tried and failed to recall a whole conversation they shared.
"Castiel! Hey!" Sam said, struggling to find his pocket on his pants.
He put his phone away and asked, "What are you doing here?"
Castiel said, "You were the one who called me. I think."
Sam pouted for a moment before his eyes lit up.
"Oh yeah, yeah! Thanks so much for the ride. I really owe you one."
Castiel nodded, "Come along. My car is this way."
Sam walked unsteadily beside Castiel, knocking into Castiel every few steps until Castiel put a hand on Sam's arm. Castiel helped Sam inside his car, guiding Sam down and holding his head so the tall man wouldn't hit himself against the top of the doorjamb. Sam fumbled with the seatbelt, and Castiel sighed before reaching down to clip Sam in himself.
"Thank you, Castiel," Sam said with a soft smile as Castiel stepped back.
Castiel shut the door, careful not to close it on any part of Sam. As soon as Castiel started the car, Sam started fiddling with the radio, mumbling about never getting to choose his own music when he rides shotgun.
Sam sat back in his seat, settling on a country music station. He bobbed his head and snickered. Castiel looked over at him and Sam laughed, wide and guileless. An infectious sound, Castiel found himself smiling.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," Sam said in between laughs. "Nothing, it's just."
Sam turned in his seat, pulling at the seatbelt.
He said, "Who knew all anybody had to do to get you out of your house was to call and ask for a ride home."
Sam continued laughing, but Castiel became quiet.
"It's not that simple," Castiel started. "I'm not antisocial like everyone seems to think. I have trouble communicating with people, and I've found it's best for everyone if I avoid conversations altogether."
Castiel didn't mention how lonely it got, and as much as he would have liked to defend himself, he didn't mention his propensity to say the wrong thing. He hadn't expected to tell Sam anything at all.
Sam said, "You're mad."
Castiel opened his mouth to deny it, but Sam continued, "I'm sorry. That was a dick thing of me to say. And I really like you!"
Sam shook his head, "No, you know what? I adore you."
It might have been the longest conversation he had with Sam, but Castiel decided, "I like you as well."
"No, no, no, you don't understand! I adore you," Sam insisted.
He shut off the radio and turned to face Castiel.
"In college, I used to play this game with my friends, right? We picked two celebrities and we had to decide who we'd want to be in a relationship with. If we played long enough and ran out of celebrities, we'd start comparing two people we know, like from around campus.
“Well, sometimes, when I'm bored, I still like to play it by myself, in my head. Sometimes I do it with people from work, and sometimes I make myself decide between you and someone else."
"Me?" Castiel spluttered.
"Yeah," Sam said, laughing quietly. "But those are never fair games, 'cause I pick you every time."
Castiel looked over at Sam, whose attention was out the window. Castiel and Sam rarely conducted business together. Sam greeted Castiel in the past, but Castiel had no constructive opinion of Sam. It hadn't occurred to Castiel that Sam would be interested in him.
Castiel didn't realize he drove home until Sam turned to him and said accusingly, "This isn't where I live."
"Sorry. Habit."
"It's fine, Cas. The bartender has my keys, anyway," Sam said as he struggled to open the door.
Castiel raced around the car to reach Sam before he had a grown man plastered on his driveway. Sam accepted Castiel's help graciously, and Sam, Castiel learned, was affectionate and generous with his hugs.
Castiel patted Sam on the back, peeled Sam off him, and walked Sam inside. Castiel offered Sam his guest room, but Sam took one look at the couch and said he would be fine. Castiel offered Sam a bottle of water, half of which Sam spilled down his shirt, eager to drink it down.
"Slowly," Castiel muttered.
Bottle empty, Sam said, "Thank you. Sorry I spilled."
Sam pulled off his jacket and wet shirt. Castiel offered to hang Sam's clothes and received another grin from Sam for the countless time that night. The couch was obviously too small for Sam's frame, but Sam lied out on it anyway, snuggling up to a pillow.
"I'm so sorry I dragged you away from home tonight," Sam said, voice gradually growing quiet.
"It's all right, Sam."
"And I'm really sorry for asking Nancy to get your number from HR. But whenever I asked around work, no one had your number, and I really wanted to ask you out."
Castiel pulled a throw blanket over Sam and said, "Go to sleep now."
Castiel didn’t mention Sam’s comment about adoring him, but he did offer Sam breakfast and a seat next to him on the couch as he selected “Lost” on his DVR list.