Chapter Text
He is going to walk off the plane, broach the topic, stay composed and get it over with.
That's Cas' plan. Even if Dean’s going to try to be kind about it, to let him settle in and get over the jetlag before breaking the news to him, don’t let him. Just rip off the bandaid, because somewhere on the way into adulthood it has become clear that ripping a bandaid off really does make things go over faster. It doesn’t make anything hurt any less, but that’s a completely different issue. Cas will just have to deal with that on his own.
He wishes he could transform his nervous energy into something productive, could pace at least, but the fasten seatbelts signs are already on and there is no getting up anymore now that the plane is moving. A minute later, the impulse presses him into his seat as the plane accelerates and lifts off. Cas closes his eyes and lets it happen, breathing through the mask that has become second nature to wear wherever he goes.
Of course, ‘wherever’ hasn't included going back home since the beginning of the pandemic. For most of that time, he couldn't have, since he got stuck outside the country and international travel has been nigh impossible for many months. And then after that… well, then after that he’d just wanted to postpone the inevitable.
He hasn't seen Dean in a year and a half.
At first, they took it in good spirits, Dean perpetually surprised by the hard measures governments around the world implemented while Cas watched the US response to the pandemic in growing horror. For a while there, he’d begged Dean every week to be careful, to wear a mask, to avoid the crowds that were still ubiquitous in the US. Dean listened, too, as far as Cas is aware, anyway. It’s not like he has any way to check. But Dean didn’t get sick, and that’s all that counts.
Still, Cas blames himself for nagging so much. Dean is a grown person after all, and Cas is almost certain that his insistent worry had been part of why the time intervals between their video chats grew longer and longer. There was always a ready excuse. Time zones are a bitch. They both work weekends more often than not. Dean has other social responsibilities, he can’t spend all of his free time humoring Cas. But still. In the beginning, Dean had made the time. Until their topics dwindled, and with them their talks. And then finally even their text messages.
Cas sighs as the plane levels out in the air. It's the shorter leg of the trip, just the national connection, the big jump over the ocean already done. It’s not enough time. Not enough time to figure out what went wrong. Not enough time to be prepared.
He’s never felt this helpless before. He’d watched them grow apart, one missed call at a time. Had felt the distance widen every time Dean left his text messages on ‘read’. But he had been utterly helpless to stop it, no matter what he’d tried. He’d even offered video sex, he’d been so lost for ideas.
Of course all that had ended up being was awkward. Because Cas had proposed it to fill the void between them, and Dean had known it. He’d made an effort to pretend he was into it and Dean had returned the effort, even managing an orgasm where Cas had been too awkward and self-conscious for it. But the next time Cas had brought up the topic, Dean had smiled and politely declined, citing some excuse that Cas hadn’t even heard over the rush of blood in his ears.
Sex isn’t high on Cas’ priority list. Never has been. But Dean is different. For Dean, sex is an important part of his life. Cas knows it and in person, he’d never had too much trouble reciprocating or even initiating often enough to keep Dean satisfied. Dean had never been pushy about it, either, just as willing to end up cuddling on the couch if Cas didn’t feel all that sex-positive on that particular day.
Not once in all of their time together had Dean said No when Cas was offering, though. Not once. Not until now. Not until the moment when Cas really needed him to accept because he had no other way to make up for everything that he was lacking.
The memory pushes frustrated tears into his eyes, so he searches for his headphones and puts them in, trying to block out both the background noise and his thoughts.
Only that makes him think about the plane which in turn brings the thought that once he’d been important enough to Dean that Dean had almost stepped onto one of these ‘flying tin cans of death’ for him. Not even two years ago, Dean was ready to come to visit him. To live through his biggest fear just to be with Cas. He had even put in for the vacation, timed for the middle of Cas’ fellowship, so that they would never miss each other for more than a few months at a time. Cas cannot be sure that Dean would have actually gone through with it, of course. Two flights there and two flights back, that’s four lift offs and four landings. Cas had always been prepared to forgive Dean for canceling on short notice and driving down to visit Sam in Stanford instead. But then it never became an issue because the world suddenly stood still and borders were closed that no one expected to ever close in their lifetimes.
And then… Cas nudges his briefcase with his toe, still entirely unsure how he feels about the stack of papers inside, awaiting his signature. Flattered to be invited to become a longterm part of one of the best scientific institutions in his field. Proud that his hard work is being recognized. But also: horrible. Like his mind is bending away from even thinking about these papers, because with the contract comes the thought of packing up his belongings, putting them in a container and shipping them overseas to never return.
And okay, that’s a bit overly dramatic, but his stomach still hurts when he thinks of how all of his things are still intermingled with Dean’s. And how he’s going to have to sort through all of them by himself. Because the only other person who’d even know what belongs to whom is Dean. And he can hardly make Dean do this. Not even when Dean is the one who moved on first.
Because Cas is the one who literally moved away. Who had probably inadvertently pushed Dean away when he’d shared his happiness about his fellowship getting turned into a time-limited staff position at the beginning of last winter. But Cas had been happy. Because he loves his work and the borders were closed and the vaccine was just around the corner. He had been offered a way to continue his research and pay the bills until vaccination would open up the world again. That had been the plan. It had comforted him through the loss of the position at the University of Kansas that he’d had lined up even before the fellowship. They couldn’t wait for him and Cas understood that. Other positions would open up in the future and Cas would have so much additional experience and new connections and interesting publications to show for his time abroad.
It had never been the plan to stay.
But then the thought of going home had started to fill him with dread. What was even waiting for him at home? Not Dean, it looked like. Not his original career plan. Not even any family, because the only family Cas has any contact with is Gabriel, and Gabriel is currently holed up in some French village at the Cote D'azur with Balthazar, drinking wine and eating pastries and not doing much else as far as Cas can tell.
So really, there is nothing waiting for him at his old home. And maybe there isn’t that much waiting for him at his future home yet, either - the pandemic did not provide the best circumstances to make friends in new places -, but at least he has a job and an apartment. All he has to do is sign the papers and send them back. Then he has a full staff position. No time limit on his contract. His own research group. Everything he could ever want. In theory, anyway.
Because he’s been sitting on the papers for a full week now, his supervisor asking him every other day whether he has signed yet. Because he’s eager for Cas to set up that research group and get started.
But Cas can’t.
Not before he hasn’t cleared things up at home. He needs that closure before he can say goodbye to the US forever. He’d explained it and his supervisor had been unhappy but understanding about it. Which wasn’t as much of a relief as it should be. If they had rescinded the offer, Cas wouldn’t have had to make the choice. As it is, the papers feel like they’re burning a hole in his briefcase and Cas’ heart feels like it’s going to break apart.
Well, on the plus side, he’ll have no problem avoiding his ex if there’s a whole ocean between them, Cas thinks grimly.
There is just this pesky problem that Cas was eight the last time he’d imagined a future that didn’t have Dean Winchester in it. Which means, he basically doesn’t remember a future without him.
They’d moved to the street where the Winchester boys lived on a rainy Thursday afternoon, the houses looking as gray and crouched as the humans that stumbled through the rain to get inside. His mom had cried during the whole day, no part of her ready to accept that after her wonderful Christian marriage had failed, the drudgery of being a single mom with a job was her destiny from now on.
It’s weird how different Dean’s mom had always been. She’d been no less harried, no less strapped for money. She hadn’t had the time to cook Thanksgiving dinners or bake pie, either. But she’d taken the world on, encouraging her sons and Cas to do the same, where Cas’ mom had hidden inside their house, slowly wasting away and giving ever less of a fuck about Cas and his brothers.
Cas had met Sam the very first day after the move, sent out by his mother to explore even though Cas didn’t want to. Sam had been deeply involved in a scientific experiment involving rocks, leaves, and some dye and had roped Cas into helping without any shame. Cas had brought all of his 8-year-old wisdom to the experimental set-up. Until Dean came home from school that is. Because Dean had not liked that Sam was playing with a stranger .
“His name is Cas and he knows my name, too, so he’s not a stranger,” Sam had replied with all the righteousness of a kindergartener.
“That’s not true. Mom needs to know him for him not to be a stranger,” Dean had argued.
“Okay. Cas, do you want to come over for dinner?”
Somehow, Sam had almost always gotten his way back then. Cas smiles at the memory even though it had taken him a few more days and some chocolate chip cookies to win Dean over.
But then, to Cas’ bafflement, Dean had stuck by him. Had never denied their friendship, not even in high school, when Cas was the quintessential awkward teenager who hasn’t found his place in the world yet, while Dean with his extroverted nature, talent for sports and good looks had never had an issue being popular. In fact, Dean had been friends with the jocks and the football players, people Cas hadn’t ever talked to other than when in Dean’s presence, but he had also faithfully shown up to their weekly D&D nights with Charlie and Sam and the assembly of nerds that had gravitated towards each other.
It felt only natural then, that Dean was the first person Cas told when he’d figured out that he was gay. He’d been nervous, of course, but he’d gotten the most genuine hug from Dean and the kindest words, too. It had made everything that came after much easier. Because his mom’s Christian marriage might have failed, but her belief that the ‘alphabet people’ would go to hell was still very much intact. At the very least, she hadn’t thrown him out. Maybe because she knew that with the backbone of Dean’s friendship and Dean’s family to rely on, Cas would just have moved down the road. Maybe because deep down, his mom was so alone that even her gay son was better than nothing.
He’d pitied her, back then, for her loneliness. Had not understand why she was shutting herself away from the world because one man had failed her. But now… he’s not talked much to his friends lately, either.
It’s a thing, everyone keeps telling him. Highschool friends, you lose them eventually, when everyone goes their different directions. But Dean and him, they hadn’t even found each other for real until they’d gone different directions, Dean studying engineering at the local community college, while Cas threw himself into behavioral sciences the minute he was allowed to focus his studies, his full ride allowing him a freedom he’d never had before. Their respective studies fit them, too. Cas’ propensity to watch instead of participating in human interactions other than with his close friends worked to his advantage in his field, and Dean finally got to put all of his practical car knowledge to use in a productive setting. They’d grown into themselves and somehow it only made them grow closer as they excitedly told each other all of their new experiences.
Then came the day when Dean told Cas that he’d ‘accidentally’ had had a drunk makeout session with a guy instead of a girl. Cas expected him to have more of a freakout about it than actually happened, if he’s honest.
Instead, Dean just became cuddlier. He started showing up at random times at Cas’ place and demanding to watch movies together, which at some point invariably led to Dean holding Cas close against his chest, the two of them drifting off to sleep tangled up in each other. And Cas, who had known for year that he was attracted to men, but who’d always listened to his friends’ sexual conquests with nothing more than mild disinterest and confusion, had suddenly not been able to stop thinking about Dean’s hands. About how strong they were. How warm. About how much better it felt to be wearing a flimsy t-shirt and feeling Dean’s warmth directly on his skin than wearing a thick sweater where it would only filter dimly through the layers of yarn. He had started craving their video nights with a ferocity that was entirely new to him.
God, they had been so young. Those first fumbling kisses, stolen only when it was dark and they were drunk enough to make them brave. Of course they could get drunk of each other back then, no alcohol needed.
Cas sighs. He should have known. Even back then he should have known. Even with Cas’ newly discovered interest in having Dean’s hands on him, Dean had always been the more tactile of them. The hornier one. It’s not that Cas doesn’t enjoy sex with Dean. He does. It’s only that he loves a round of D&D with their friends or a nice cuddled-up evening watching a movie just as much, if not more.
But the point is, he’s spent a long time being secure in the knowledge of Dean being in his life. From 8 years old until now. Goosebumps crop up on Cas’ arms, the plane suddenly too cold, as he thinks about how that’s going to change. How he’s going to have to navigate a world that does not have Dean in it. Because Cas isn’t kidding himself about this one. There’s no staying friends with Dean. He’d treasured their friendship from the first day on, but now that they have been so much more? It’s going to be impossible for him to come back from that. To hear about him dating someone else, to see Dean kissing someone else, to see him find new love. Cas wants all of that for Dean, of course, but he’s not masochistic enough to want to watch it.
He sighs again because of course he’s going to lose the rest of his friends together with Dean in one fell swoop. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t talked much with them lately. Because even though Cas has always been the geekier one between them, Dean is still going to get to keep all of their geeky friends. It hurts almost as much as the rest of it, knowing that Charlie and Sam have chosen their side, their contact with Cas dwindling. Not that he blames them. Dean is Sam’s brother, so that’s a no-brainer. And Charlie has a D&D group to run. Which Cas is not a part of anymore since he's been on a different continent. Time zones and busy schedules are an unholy combination. They found a replacement for him even before his fellowship got extended.
Cas has to bite down on his tongue not to let his unhappy sounds over this particular issue spill out. It’s some guy Dean and Charlie met at a bar. Some Benny . Cas has done his very best not to let it get to him. Not even when Dean started hanging out with the guy outside of D&D as well, singing his praises from his Cajun cooking to his physical strength and skill. Because apparently they’ve been working out together.
Cas has never had talent for sports, even though he runs every day to keep himself fit. And his cooking is barely adequate. Nothing like what Dean can do, who genuinely enjoys the process.
It gives him an unpleasant stab in his stomach when he admits to himself that Benny sounds like a much better fit for Dean and his interests than Cas ever was. It’s not a fun thing to acknowledge obviously, but Cas prides himself on his logical thinking. It makes him a good scientist. Which is what he’s going to have left after what he expects will be happening in the first few hours after the plane lands, so that’s something.
Cas has thought that through logically, too, what his best options are once he lands and has a chance to confront Dean face-to-face. What he could do to change the outcome. The movies make it sound enticing to fight for your partner. To make some big gesture that will make your estranged partner fall back in love. But Cas has thought it through and his conclusion is that it’s all bullshit. He doesn’t want to have to fight. He’s spent a long and exhausting year abroad, trying his best to keep Dean interested, even while knowing that it wasn’t what Dean wanted or needed. How many more things is Cas supposed to do that aren’t really what Dean wants or needs? Is that supposed to be love ?
He rubs a hand over his temple, willing the beginning headache to go away. He should just get it over with and make his decision independently of whatever Dean does. Waiting until the love of his life forces his hand just makes him feel helpless. But he’s never been good at letting Dean go. Even when he had applied for the fellowship, even when he got accepted, even on the day they had their goodbye at the airport - not teary only because Dean had stomped off, his eyes red and his voice scratchy, before the tears could actually start to fall - some part of Cas had wanted Dean to hold him back. To ask him to stay.
But Dean hadn’t. Dean had been the supportive boyfriend of everyone’s dreams, cheering for each of his achievements, never asking Cas to give up anything for him. The only time Cas remembers that Dean had shown any sign of distress at all was on the last night before Cas left. They’d had sex, not even necessarily because they were in the mood, but because it was clear that they would go without it for a while. And after, when they’d lain together, sweat slowly cooling on their skins, breathing returning to normal, Dean had hid his face in the crook of Cas’ neck and asked, “You’re gonna come back, right?”, his voice small in a way that Cas was entirely unused to from his gregarious boyfriend. “Of course,” Cas had assured, unable to find words to explain that he couldn’t even imagine a future where he didn’t.
Well, he’s not going to need his imagination now. Reality is not asking whether he’d like to run through all the scenarios and choose the most favorable outcome.
There is a slight shift, miniscule really, but it presses down on Cas like a lead weight. The plane has started its descent. He looks at his watch. Yes, they’re right on time. 20 more minutes and he’ll be back in his hometown. Where Dean is waiting to pick him up from the airport before breaking his heart. He assumes anyway, because of course he had told Dean that he was coming. Dean had asked for his flight info and Cas had given it.
What he hasn’t told Dean about is the contract that awaits his signature. He hadn’t managed to do that in a text. Because that’s what they’ve been doing for the past two days since Cas booked his flight. Texting. They haven’t called once. Dean hasn’t asked what prompted the surprise trip and Cas hasn’t volunteered. Dean knows it, Cas guesses. Must know it. That Cas has picked up on everything that they’ve been lacking lately. That he’s coming home, but doesn’t expect to stay. But Dean hadn’t said anything about that.
“It’ll be good to see your face.” That’s what Dean had written, and it would have sounded light and happy and like a Dean-thing to say in any circumstances other than theirs. Only, if anything, his answers to Cas’ texts have become even more sporadic since.
With a sigh, Cas packs his mp3-player and headphones away as the ‘ fasten your seatbelt’ signs turn on. If someone asked him, he couldn’t even tell them what he’d listened to in the past 2 hours. The music might as well not have existed for all the good that it’s done in calming his nerves.
He rubs a hand over his face like maybe that can rub away some of the pain. It just hurts so much. Why does it have to hurt so much? He knows the answer of course. Because he loves Dean. Has always loved Dean. And has never once thought that they would end up here.