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“Dammit!” Dean curses, trying to see anything beyond Baby’s windscreen, but to no avail. The rain is pouring down. This isn’t a cats and dogs kinda rain, this is torrential, and the Impala’s wipers are powerless against the onslaught of water. Even at full volume, the music from his cassette player hasn’t been audible for at least ten minutes. Dean drives slowly as a snail. At least, he’s dry in here.
He turns a sharp corner, one that might be dangerous even under the best of weather conditions. He’s glad that he’s more rolling than driving because he’s sure he wouldn’t have seen the drenched figure crouching on the ground or way too late, otherwise.
Who the hell is out here in this apocalypse-like weather?
He rolls past what he thinks is a man, pondering the likelihood of him being a serial killer waiting for his next victim. But Dean’s soft heart wins over, and he stops his car just a few metres away. The person is barely visible in the rear-view mirror, and they don’t move.
“Idiot,” Dean says and hoots the car horn. The person gets up from the ground. It is a guy, tall and broad. He moves sluggishly, more shadow than human. With the rain hitting, it’s like a scene from a horror movie.
The passenger door opens after what feels like an eternity, the stranger looking at him with red-rimmed eyes. The man was crying. But his gaze is sharp, calculating. He probably ponders the same as Dean did just a minute ago.
“Get in! You’ll flood my car,” Dean says when the guy doesn’t do anything but stare at him.
“I will do anyway,” the stranger points out.
“But less than with an open door. Come on. I’ll take you to the next town. You’ll freeze to death out here.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a loss,” the man murmurs, barely audible over the rain, but he sinks into the passenger seat and closes the door.
Dean lets the Impala roll again. “Name’s Dean. Who are you?” he asks.
“Castiel,” the man says. Dean looks over at him for a moment. The man doesn’t even brush the hair out of his eyes. What’s wrong with him?
“What made you take a walk in the rain?” Dean asks.
“My family threw me out of the car. Figured I could walk and get a warm shower in that motel we passed. Didn’t think it was so far. Didn’t know the rain would grow worse.”
Castiel’s lips are blue, his hands trembling. Dean can’t help but pity the guy.
“My bag’s on the back seat. There’s a towel. Dry yourself up a little. And maybe change your clothes. At this pace, it’ll take us at least 40 minutes to get there.”
Castiel frowns at Dean for a long moment. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“No reason to catch a cold, is there?”
Castiel shakes his head and turns to the back, frowning some more. ‘Adroable,’ Dean can’t help but think and forces his eyes on the slowly passing road in front of him.
The stranger climbs into the back seat and starts to undress, his clothes ending in a pile on the floor. Dean tries his best not to ogle him in the rear-view mirror. He’s not a creep, no matter how good the man looks without his rain-soaked trenchcoat. It takes a while until Castiel leans over the backrest and dries the seat with the towel before climbing back to the front.
“Thanks. That’s so much better,” he says and smiles softly.
Dean grins. “No need to thank me. I think I saw a laundromat on the main street. We’ll get your clothes dry in no time.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says anyway. Dean nods.
“So. Don’t wanna pry, but if you wanna tell a stranger what happened to ya…” Dean offers.
Castiel shakes his head. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s fine,” Dean says. He tries to turn up the music once more, well knowing it won’t cover up the rain-filled silence. Castiel doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, or he’s just processing whatever transpired that ended up with him cast out by his family in this horrid weather.
They drive for another hour until the city sign finally comes into view. The rain falls softer now, but Dean doubts it’ll stop any time soon. He parks the Impala in front of the laundromat and kills the engine.
“I’ll wait until you got your stuff dried. And then I’ll drive you to the motel. There’s no use in you getting wet again on the way up there.”
“It’ll take a while to wash your clothes,” Castiel says.
“Don’t worry about them. I’ll put them in the washing when I’m back home.”
“You’re from around here?” Castiel asks.
“Another two-hour drive up north. Well, on a normal day. Today maybe a bit longer.”
Castiel worries his lip. “It’s a really nice offer, Dean. But it’s gonna be even later if you’re waiting for me.”
Dean chuckles. “I’m used to late-night driving. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.” He hadn’t planned to say that, but now that it’s out, Dean wants to take it back immediately. Maybe Castiel isn’t a bloke who reacts well to some weird flirting. Anyway. Dean’s not flirting. He’s just nice to a stranger, that’s all.
“You’re a very kind man, Dean,” Castiel says. Something in his voice makes Dean’s heart do strange things. Or maybe it’s the look on Castiel’s face, soft and open, his eyes a blue to get lost in.
“Yeah, yeah, get out of the car,” Dean says. It doesn’t come out as nonchalantly as he had hoped it to be. But it’s answered by a tender, close-lipped smile, and somehow, it feels worth the embarrassment.
Dean watches after Castiel as he enters the shop and fishes a paperback from the glove compartment. He tries his best to concentrate on his book, but his gaze is pulled to the stranger with the beautiful eyes, again and again.
‘“Get a grip!” Dean scolds himself. The guy is clearly traumatised, and Dean’s not one to misuse someone’s vulnerability. He wouldn’t push him out of bed, of course. But for that, they’d have to make it inside of one first, and that’s not likely to happen.
The passenger door opens and pulls Dean out of his thoughts.
“Here,” Castiel says, pushing a paper cup with coffee into his hand. “It’s probably bad, but they don’t have much on offer in there.” He puts a few things from the vending machine on the seat between them.
“That wasn’t necessary, man.”
“Oh, it sure was. I was ready to just sit down and die,” Castiel says, chuckling, but Dean remembers the way he was crouching on the grit by the roadside. The sentence is probably closer to the truth than Dean likes it to be.
“You got all my favourites,” Dean smirks and grabs the apple pie turnover. “These people got taste,” he says after taking a bite. “That’s not half bad.”
Castiel chuckles, sounding mirthful for the first time since they met. “A woman told me that the pie in the diner up the street is way better.”
“Okay. Moment of truth,” Dean says. “Are you a pie man, Castiel?”
“It depends. With the right company,” he smirks.
Dean blinks at him. Was that an attempt at flirting?
“Well, can’t complain,” he croaks despite himself.
The sun rises on Castiel’s face, and Dean’s stomach flips in the best ways. Dammit! He didn’t have that on today’s bingo card.
Dean clears his throat and offers Castiel the bitten turnover. The man leans in and takes a bite. Dean’s throat feels suddenly very dry and his ears are burning. It’s not helping that Castiel runs his tongue over his lips to clean them from the sticky filling that spilt on in.
Dean pulls his gaze off him and tries to calm his suddenly racing heart. He’s probably just reading stuff into it. He’s bad at picking up guys along the road. Gay clubs are so much easier, but it’s not as if there were many in rural Kansas.
Castiel looks at his watch. “Another two minutes and the dryer is finished. I’m out of your hair in no time,” he says. He looks a little sad, but maybe that’s only wishful thinking.
“What are you gonna do? You think things with your family will sort themself out?”
Castiel works his jaw and shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Not without me taking back what I said, and frankly, I don’t want to. It was my truth and it took me long enough to say it.”
Dean nods. He knows that feeling. Some bridges are better left burnt down than mended.
“Where are you going? Maybe I could drop you off at a car rental or something.”
“With my family, I lost my job, my home. I’ll have to figure out what to do next. A motel room here is as good as any for that.”
“Sorry, man. That’s fucked up. What kinda business were you involved in?”
“Security.”
Dean huffs in surprise. “Really?”
Castiel arches an eyebrow, and yes, he can picture it now.
“I’m sure you’ll make it. Maybe bodyguard a hot celebrity or something.”
Castiel snorts a laugh. “Had enough of that. I’d like it calmer now. Maybe mall security or something.”
“I like me a man in a uniform,” Dean says, eyes growing wide. What the hell is wrong with him!?
“Do you?” Castiel asks, and this time, Dean is sure it’s an innuendo. To what exactly he’s not sure, but an innuendo it was.
“Um, your clothes,” he says and gestures to the laundromat.
Castiel smiles at him a little shyly. “I’m back in a minute.”
—
“I got lucky,” Castiel says returning from the motel dressed in his own clothes, an umbrella over his head. “I got the last room.”
“Awesome,” Dean smirks and takes his clothes from Castiel’s hands. They look at each other for a long while in awkward silence. “Will hit the road now,” Dean finally breaks it, nodding to his car. Castiel isn’t making a move, and there’s no use in postponing this.
“Godspeed,” Castiel says and pulls Dean into an awkward hug. Dean pats him on the back and tries to fend off the stream of thanks that comes out of Castiel’s mouth.
“Don’t mention it. Take care,” he says.
The wheels of the Impala spin in the parking lot’s mud as he puts his foot down. Dean takes a last look at the beautiful man in the rear-view mirror before he puts some music on and tries to focus on the road ahead.
—
“What do you mean the road is closed?” Dean asks the police officer in front of the barricade. “This is the only way out north.”
“There’s been a landslide due to the rain, sir. I doubt the road will be open for at least a day. It’s pretty massive.”
Dean breathes a sigh and turns his car. Just great. Even with the rain simmered down to a drizzle, taking the detour would take him at least three hours extra, likely more. He looks at his watch. It’s past dinner time, and he’s dead tired. He’ll better call it a night, maybe get some of the pie Castiel talked about and a burger. Vending machine food only gets you so far.
He scans the diner when he enters and finds no table unoccupied. He sits down at the counter and orders his food. It reminds him of his childhood when diners along the road were a paradise and warm food a luxury. He still likes it greasy. This is what coming home must feel like for normal people.
He thinks of Castiel who lost everything and has to start anew, with no welcoming home waiting for him either. Dean can sympathise. He has a home now, after years on the road. It had taken a while for him not to feel restless anymore, but he’s glad he settled down. It’s not the picket fence dream of his youth, but close enough.
Sammy, his little brother, is so much closer to the apple pie life. He’s got a house, a beautiful wife, their first child is on the way. Dean’s happy for them. It’s a bit cliché, but Sam deserves to be happy. He’s been through a lot. They both did. Seeing Sam get all he ever dreamt of, and then some, makes Dean feel proud and hopeful. It’s never too late to be happy.
“Hey. I thought you were leaving,” a now-familiar voice addresses him.
“Yeah, didn’t get far. The road is blocked,” he says, turning his head in Castiel’s direction. He’s wearing that silly trenchcoat again.
“Oh, no. Did you find a place to stay?” Castiel asks, sitting down on the barstool next to him.
“Nah. I’ll sleep in the car.”
“You’re kidding! Your back will kill you.”
Dean nods and takes a swig of his beer. “Likely. But the motel is full as you know.”
Castiel flags the barkeeper and orders his dinner.
“You could sleep with me,” he says, blushing crimson in a split second. “I mean in my room. It has a queen-size bed, if it doesn’t bother you. It also has a sofa, but that is rather small. We could ask if they have a camp bed or something,” he rambles.
Dean chuckles. “You really don’t have to, pal. I’m gonna be alright.”
Castiel worries his lip. “If it’s because I’m gay…”
Dean chokes on his beer. “Nah, it’s not that. Wasn’t even sure if you were. My gaydar is really bad,” Dean splutters when he can breathe again.
“Mine, too. Not that I’ve had much of use for it.”
Dean furrows his brow. “Is that why your family threw you out?”
Castiel picks at the label on his ginger beer and nods. “I didn’t mean to come out to them, and especially not in a confined space during heavy rain on a road in the middle of nowhere.”
“Did you misspeak?”
“No,” he chuckles without mirth. “I snapped. They were ‘discussing’ my trans cousin, and I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I am a man of faith but the way they use religion to question and stain our very existence as queer people? Something’s got to give.”
“I get that. I exploded into my father’s face. He didn’t see it coming. Not from me. The joke’s on him. My brother who he always called girl names is straight as a ruler.”
“How did he take it?”
“Not well,” Dean says and takes a bite of his burger, chewing it slowly. He doesn’t want to elaborate. It’s not his style to talk bad about dead people.
They finish their meals in silence. Dean likes it. Many people just want to fill the air with chatter. Sometimes, he’s one of them. Castiel doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not talkative right now, though.
“So, pie?” Castiel asks when he’s finished. Dean hums. He doesn’t want to part with Castiel. Not yet. He doesn’t know why. It’s not his attractiveness, though that doesn’t hurt. But there’s something lying underneath, the urge to get to know him better.
“What’s the verdict?” Castiel asks when Dean digs into his apple pie.
“About what?” Dean asks with his mouth full.
“About the sleeping arrangement.”
Dean swallows and licks his lips clean. “It wouldn’t bother you?”
“We’re grown men.”
Dean chuckles. “Okay. My back thanks you.”
“Your back is most welcome,” Castiel says and smiles at him brightly before he empties his bottle.
Dean’s head is spinning. Is this guy flirting with him or totally oblivious about what these kinds of words and smiles can do to a man? Probably the latter.
They pay and make it back to the motel with the car. They take their turns in the bathroom and only when he comes out – freshly showered and clad in pyjamas – does Dean realise that Castiel doesn’t have anything but the clothes on his skin. He rummages through his duffle bag and throws a fresh pyjama on the bed.
“My sister-in-law insisted on doing my laundry. Maybe you should give your clothes a bit of time to breathe.”
Castiel looks at him with an indecipherable look on his face. “Thank you,” he all but whispers. It’s hard to imagine him pinning someone down. But maybe he’s a computer nerd like Dean’s friend Charlie and not security with a hands-on approach.
“Don’t mention it.”
Dean sits down on the side of the bed away from Castiel to give the man some privacy as he changes. It’s weird, sharing a room with a stranger. He’s used to doing it with Sam, but he would lie if he said he missed it in any way.
“You can turn around,” Castiel says, and Dean nearly melts when he sees him in his hotdog pants and old Led Zeppelin shirt. He never really understood what people meant when they said it was awesome to see their partners in their clothes. Does he have a crush on the man? Probably. Or maybe he’s been alone for too long. Sam said something like that, but he probably thinks singledom can’t be happy, which is wrong. Not that Dean would say no to a relationship, but historically speaking, he’s not the best in them.
“Everything alright?” Castiel asks, a deep frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows.
Dean snaps back into the present. “Sure, just… thinking.” He clears his throat. “I should probably sleep. It’s been a long day.”
Castiel nods and slides under the comforter. Dean follows after a moment of hesitation. They’re grown men. Castiel is right. This isn’t one of those ‘There was only one bed’ romcoms.
—
Dean blinks his eyes open against the sun creeping through the window. They forgot to close the curtains last night. It can’t be much later than six. He turns to check the radio clock and startles.
“Sonofabitch! Do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?”
Castiel shakes his head and averts his gaze. “No. My apologies. I couldn’t sleep.”
Dean sits up and rubs his eyes. “Sorry. It’s better not to talk to me before I had coffee.”
Castiel chuckles. “You were just looking so peaceful.”
Dean rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed, starts the electric kettle, and empties a bag of instant coffee into a mug. “Want some?” he asks.
“A tea would be nice. Thank you, Dean.”
“Stop thanking me for normal shit, man,” he says, but his lips curl into a smile. He likes the sound of his name from Castiel’s lips. His very kissable lips.
Dean shakes his head to dispose of the mental image. He really needs to get laid. While waiting for the water to boil, he checks his phone for the road blockage. He sighs when he sees that it’s still closed.
The click of the kettle pulls his attention, and he fills their mugs with water, throws a tea bag in Castiel’s and sets it on his nightstand. He stirs his coffee and sits down on the sofa opposite his roommate.
“Wanna talk about why you couldn’t sleep?” he asks, blowing over the hot liquid.
“It all came crashing down on me. I’ve been living on my family’s estate. I worked for their company. I don’t even have a single reference beyond them. How am I supposed to get a job? I don’t even have a car, because I could just always take one of theirs.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. I know. I protected stars I don’t even know what they were famous for. I did what I was told to do.”
“And know you don’t know how to make your own decisions,” Dean states. Castiel hums in affirmation.
“So… you know how to handle a gun?”
“Yes. I’m trained in using hand weapons and martial arts.”
“Awesome. I think I have a job for you. It’s nothing with celebrities, though.”
“I think I had enough of that. What is it?”
“My uncle has a salvage yard. It’s much better than it sounds. He’s had a problem with theft lately. He’s sitting in a wheelchair. He’s still kicking ass, but he’s not as quick as he used to. He said he needed help. I’m sure it’s not much, but… It might be a start.”
Castiel worries his lip and nods. “Sounds great. And you think he’d take me?”
“If you pass his X-ray vision.” Dean grins. He doesn’t even know why the thought makes him so happy, but it does. “I can call him in about an hour if you want,” he offers.
“That would be great. Thank you, Dean.”
Dean cocks an eyebrow.
“No thankyous anymore. Got it,” Castiel smirks, bobbing on the mattress edge a little.
“Where is that estate you lived on. Is it far?”
Castiel shakes his head. No. About two hours south from here. We just had started our journey when… you know.”
Dean nods.
“The road is still blocked. What do you say we leave now, pick up your stuff and you crash at my place until you found something?”
“I can’t accept that offer, Dean.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know me. I could be a serial killer.”
Dean huffs a laugh. “Then you would have killed me instead of staring.” He at least hopes that to be true.
“Right,” Castiel chuckles. “But promise to kick me out if you change your mind.”
“Sure.” As if.
—
“How’s he doing?” Dean asks, looking across his uncle’s yard to where Castiel is busy moving stuff.
“He’s doing fine. Not bad. He’s a good worker,” Bobby states.
“Good, good. You’re gonna keep ‘im?”
Bobby grins knowingly. “Would you want me to?”
Dean glances at him from the corner of his eyes. His cheeks are burning all of a sudden. “I wouldn’t mind,” he croaks. “He’s nice and surprisingly tidy. He cooks well, too.”
Bobby chuckles. “Have you kissed him yet?”
“Bobby!”
“I’m not blind, Dean. Ask him out already. You’ve been pining the whole month.”
“I’m not…” Dean trails off. “You know?”
Bobby laughs out loud and pushes his wheelchair in Castiel’s direction. “Hey, son. Call it a day, will ya? Here’s someone who wants you.”
Dean rolls his eyes at that. But he’s pretty sure the innuendo flew over Castiel’s head anyway. At least, he hopes so.
“I need to switch on the electric fence,” Castiel says. “Hello, Dean.”
“Hi, Cass. Today’s tachos night at the Roadhouse. High time you meet Ellen and Jo.”
—
“That was nice,” Castiel says on their way home. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten this much in my life.”
Dean chuckles. “Yeah. There’s a reason why I don’t use the car to get there. The after-dinner walk is important to make it up the stairs again.”
They’re walking next to each other in comfortable silence for a while, stealing glances. The last weeks had been great. Dean can’t remember ever meeting anyone who is so different and still so compatible with him in his life. Maybe Cassie, but that was a lifetime ago.
He thinks about Bobby’s words. This could have been a date. Is it too late to label it as such?
“Dean,” Castiel cuts through his thoughts. “I think I should move into Bobby’s attic.”
“Why? Why would you? It’s tiny!” Dean calls out. He would know. He lived up there nearly a year before he moved into his own place.
“I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome. You’ve been a great friend and such a big help. It’s so nice to talk with you after work.”
“Then why would you leave? We could share the apartment. I never use the study. It could be your bedroom.”
Castiel chews his lips. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Castiel breathes out raggedly. “I don’t want to…” he trails off.
“What?”
“I like you, Dean. Very, very much, and living with you… it’s beautiful, but also hard.”
Dean gapes at him. “Wait. You’re moving out why exactly? Because you like me too much?” Dean hopes he only sounds half as hysterical as he feels.
“I don’t want to destroy our friendship. You’re one of the very few people I have in my life, and my feelings for you aren’t of the friends’ type. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s better if we get a bit of distance between us so that my misplaced feelings can die out.”
Dean laughs out loud, throwing his head back, shaking it in amusement. “You wanna move out because you have a crush on me?”
“I think it’s more than just a crush, but yes.”
“And you never thought about talking with me about it? Never considered I might return the feeling?”
“Um,” Castiel says. Dean can’t believe it.
“You didn’t. You’re really something,” Dean says and steps closer. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
“Why?” Castiel asks, confusion plastered all over his face.
“Because I’m gonna kiss you otherwise.”
“You… oh.” A soft smile tugs on the corners of Castiel’s lips. Dean nods and leans in slowly, their lips meeting in a gentle brush. Both are grinning too hard to make it work. It doesn’t matter. Castiel pulls Dean closer by the belt loops of his jeans, and Dean goes without resistance. Turns out kissing Castiel is easy as pie after that.
They snog for a long while until raindrops hit their faces. Dean groans. “Not again.”
Castiel laughs, clear and free. Dean wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life. He grabs Castiel’s hand, and they run together through the rain until they reach their home, drenched to the skin. It doesn’t matter. For them, it’s not rain. It’s liquid sunshine.