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A/N: You can read the fic on Tumblr too! Link to the story here.
Heart's Choice
There’s just something magical about that first breath of air you take when you leave a plane after a long flight. It’s refreshing but not because of the cleanness of the air. No, the air smells terrible in an airport, it’s thick and heavy with the scent of plane fuel and oil, all of it mixing up with the smell of thousands of people collected at the same place and gas from the many different vehicles the airport staff uses to transport both people, luggage and equipment to and from the planes that comes through.
No it’s more because it’s alive. It’s real natural generated air, it’s because of all the things that mixes up in the natural scent of fresh air that makes it feel so magical.
It’s a routine of some sort for Castiel now. Every time he steps out of a plane he stops for just a brief second to take a deep lungful of air, closing his eyes to let all the impresions run through his mind, before he moves on to let the other passengers off the plane too.
This time it is no different from the others, and yet somehow he still prefers the smell of the air in this airport. His home towns airport. It’s different than the others he likes to think, something special. Perhaps it is just because it is home, perhaps it is something else, but it is always the best smell to breathe in after another long tiring week in Paris and this time it feels even more rejuvenating than usual.
His body is tired and worn out from the long flight and all of the changes and delays he experienced. Over 16 hours sitting down can make you a bit crazy and Castiel is certainly feeling it, alongside all of his fellow passengers. Everyone seems agitated. There’s a certain familiar aura of stress vibrating between the passengers as they rush through the doors into the gate, all of them on their way to the baggage claim area.
Castiel stays at the front as always. Having travelled on first class he was one of the first people to be let out of the plane, making him able to get to the luggage carousel as one of the first. He stops close to the hole in the wall where he knows the luggage will begin to come out at any second now and then he waits.
He passes the time as he waits by trying to loosen up his muscles. He moves his joints in circular motions, feeling fresh blood rush to the areas that have been feeling almost numb after all the sitting he has done. He needs to go running soon, to get his blood pumping, but not today. No, today he has a nice scalding hot bubble bath with his name on it waiting for him and he is very eager to get home to it.
His eyes start following the luggage as soon as it starts coming out. They scan each suitcase almost automatically, he has done this so many times that he doesn’t need to pay too much attention to the carousel to know that his suitcase has not shown itself yet.
After five minutes of staring, he feels his patience slip. He swears that he has seen the same pink suitcase with a unicorn on it move past him at least five times, and yet there is still no sign of his suitcase.
People around him starts pushing and pulling to get to their luggage, and Castiel doesn’t blame them for being as eager to get home as he is. Although you don’t do anything in particular while flying, it takes a huge amount of energy and once you’re on the ground again you are tired, stressed and just completely done with the people you have been trapped with, and that’s not even taking the possible time zone change into account. Who knows how many of the passengers from his flight have had to change flights too on their way here? How many have been delayed just as he has?
Well, that’s how Castiel feels anyway, and if his suitcase would just show up then he would be on his way, freeing up another spot at the carousel. Maybe he’s only eager to get away from here because of the two men who has taken up a spot behind him. They are talking loudly to each other. One of them keeps pushing himself in between Castiel’s shoulder and another man’s shoulder to look at the carousel. Castiel is so close to snapping and telling him to wait his turn.
“How long can it take to get some stupid bags out of a plane’s ass?” the man says the next time he forces his way in between Castiel and the other man. Castiel is about to scold him when the other man behind him does it for him.
“Dean!” he hisses, “Get back here! You can’t just go in between people like that!”
“Why? It’s a free country” the first one says. Castiel assumes he is the one referred to as “Dean”.
“Because it’s rude!”
“I don’t care, I just wanna go home! I want to go see my baby, make sure Bobby has been treating her right and then I want to ditch your ass and not see your ugly mug for at least a month. If I have to be rude to get outta here sooner, then so be it.”
“Now you’re being overdramatic” Sam says, “You make it sound like I’ve tortured you.”
“It was your idea to take a flight!” Dean argues, “I wanted to go by boat, but nooooo we have to take the only way of transport that I am terrified of.”
“I get sea sick!”
“And I get air sick, apparently!”
The two men keep bickering back and forth and Castiel honestly loses interest rather quickly once this Dean stops squeezing himself in between the first row of people.
Instead, Castiel zones out and goes over the last weeks hectic schedule in his head, trying to remember how many brands he wanted to contact after seeing their work on the runway. He knows that he has written all of them down in his notebook with specific details of why and what his ideas for future collaborations are, but it’s the only thing that can take his mind off of the increasingly bad mood he is getting himself into.
His eyes continues to run over each bag leaving the hole in the wall and finally they fall onto something familiar. A metallic black suitcase.
Castiel grabs it the second it’s within reach and doesn’t even bother to read the label to make sure it’s his. No one else have this particular model anymore, he’s sure of it. It’s almost fifteen years old.
So he just hurries out of the ocean of people surrounding the baggage claim. He goes straight for the exit of the airport where he knows there are several taxies waiting. He finds one with a driver that doesn’t look too much like someone who just got out of jail and lets him put his suitcase in the trunk of the car.
The drive to his apartment takes about fifteen minutes and he spends them in silence, still thinking over the last week’s events. It was a very good Paris fashion week this time. There were a lot of really interesting new designers in the sustainable category, all of them with great potential for a bright future. He especially liked the “Seduction” collection by Meg Masters. She had a very sharp eye for details, making her clothes suggestive without being too sexualized and Castiel liked that. It is rare to find a collection for women now a days that isn’t too focused on showing as much skin as possible, and to have one that’s sustainable at the same time? It has to be a once in a life time opportunity.
When he arrives at his address Castiel pays the driver and leaves with a quick good afternoon. He goes straight for the elevator and once he’s at his apartment he lets himself in quickly, making sure to close the door firmly behind him before he locks it.
He goes through his kitchen, sees that Samandriel have kept his promise and filled the food and water bowl for Castiel’s cat. Castiel makes a quick note on the notepad on the refrigerator to remember to pay him the fifty dollars he promised.
Then Castiel moves on to his bedroom, abandoning his suitcase next to the door so he can sit himself on the edge of his bed to pet the big chubby cat that’s lying on his pillow.
“Samandriel treated you a little too well, didn’t he Crowley?” he asks the black cat. His response is a deep purr and two dark orange, almost red eyes that looks half lidded at him, as if the cat is trying to tell him that he didn’t regret anything that have happened while Castiel was away. “I will just have to put you on a diet again” Castiel sighs. He rubs a finger up of Crowley’s nose and across his forehead before he stands again.
He takes of his suit jacket and folds it neatly over the back of the chair standing next to his walk-in closet. His tie joins the jacket and soon his belt does too. Then he moves to the bathroom, walking slowly while unbuttoning each button on his white dress shirt one at a time.
The deep blue bathtub looks almost too inviting as it sits in the corner. He runs a hand along the side of it, loving the feeling of the cool porcelain against his hot skin. He can already feel how his muscles will just let go of all the tension they have built up once they get covered in hot water.
He turns the tabs, finding the perfect balance between cold and hot water before he straightens up again to remove the cufflinks from his sleeves. He places them in a small cup next to his sink to make sure they don’t disappear. They were a gift from his sister and he charises them very much.
His shirt slides off his arms easily and gets thrown over the toilet without a thought. His pants comes off next and then his boxers.
The water is truly scalding when he sinks himself into it, but he lets it burn, knowing it will only be a minute before the pain turns to pleasure. Once it does he sighs and lets himself slide all the way down until only his chin and everything above it is over water.
He doesn’t get to soak for long before someone is ringing his doorbell, forcing him to get out of the tub again. He does so sighing deeply, wishing for the sixth time in this month that he had someone to live with, to share his life with, that could have opened that door for him.
But it’s only him and Crowley The Cat here, and being the only one of the pair with apposable thumbs, he has to be the one to open the door.
He dabs himself semi-dry with a towel before wrapping it around his hips. He leaves wet footprints on the floor on his way to the front door, and makes a mental note to wipe the water up when he goes back so it doesn’t make marks on his floors.
The doorbell rings again, this time two times in a row. It’s irritated and impatient and Castiel stops himself from clenching his hands, feeling his anger pool together hotly behind his ribs.
He opens the door and is met with a set of eyes greener than any he has ever seen before.
“Jesus dude, could it have taken any long…” Castiel knows that voice. It’s Dean, from the airport. What is Dean from the airport doing outside his door this late, holding what looks like Castiel’s suitcase in his hand?
“Can I help you with something?” Castiel asks. Dean’s eyes snap up to his face again, having been stuck staring at his stomach. Dean closes his mouth to swallow.
“Yeah, I think you took my suitcase at the airport by mistake” he answers, lifting the one in his hand a little, “This one’s label says it’s yours.”
“Oh…” Castiel responds, “I wasn’t even aware that I had taken the wrong one. I didn’t think anyone still had a model as old as mine.”
“Yeah well, I do. Was a gift from my Grandma” Dean says.
“I see” Castiel says and steps back from the door, gesturing inside, “Please come in while I go find it.” Dean steps forward carefully, only just making it inside before he stops again. Castiel closes the door and gives him a smile before he goes to his bedroom to get the suitcase.
He reads the label on it just to be sure, and true enough, this isn’t his suitcase.
Dean Winchester
3965 Lost Oak Park, Moonshine, Kansas
66043-8976, US
Castiel quickly drops the towel to jump into some sweatpants before he takes the suitcase to Dean. Dean is looking around, but when Castiel comes into view his eyes snap over to him, following every move he makes.
“I’m apologize for not making sure it was my suitcase when I left” Castiel says.
“Nah, don’t sweat it” Dean responds, shrugging quickly, “I was actually driving by anyway on my way home so it wasn’t like it was a huge detour.”
“I’m glad” Castiel says, “And I haven’t looked through it. All of your belongings should still be exactly where you left them.”
“Really? You don’t unpack the second you get home?” Dean asks.
“No, what makes you think that I would?” Dean shrugs again.
“I dunno, you just seem like the type that does something like that” he says.
When Castiel lifts an eyebrow at him he quickly explains, “Your apartment is so neat and you’re … eh you are too, so I just assumed. Rich people have a weird thing for cleanliness.”
“Rich people?”
“Yeah you know, people with a lot of money” Dean says.
“I am aware of the meaning of the word “rich”. What I meant was I hardly believe it is only rich people who enjoys a clean home” Castiel says.
“No of course not! Man, you are far from the worst case of cleanliness I’ve seen” Dean says, “I’m sure my mom has some sort of OCD, because she can’t even let me have oil on me when I go straight from work to her place for dinner. She makes me take a bath before even saying hallo. And I’m not even allowed in the house’s shower, no I have to use the one in the outhouse, the same one my dad uses after he has been working in the garage. She’s nuts that woman. And don’t even get me started on the way her face twitches after my brother’s kids have been on vacation…”
Castiel just watches Dean talk, watches his hands move and his eyes shine. He is breathtaking. Beautiful, in every way and meaning of the word. The thought comes almost to easily to him, the picture crystal clear in his mind.
He can almost taste the air on the runway, feel the buzz in the air as he imagines Dean walking out from behind black curtains, covered in the most perfect suit he has ever worn, tailored by Castiel to fit every small bump and bulge on his body.
And the process itself would be marvelous. The measuring, the choosing of materials. Dean would go very nicely with a pinstriped fabric, dark in the colors, but with a hint of brown to make his eyes stand out. He would wear it perfectly and yes, his upper body is just the right shape to be able to wear a waist coat and look amazing in it. Not everybody have that quality.
“Sorry, I’m just rambling on like a weirdo” Dean says and shakes his head at himself. He picks up the suitcase Castiel sat down and says, “Thanks, have a great night.” He nods and walks to the door with determination, but when he opens it, he hesitates, slowly lowering his head.
Castiel tilts his head a little and keeps looking, imagining. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so strong foreign emotions about this one seemingly normal man, a man that he has only just met and has only spoken with a few minutes, but he knows that he isn’t ready for him to walk out of his life yet. He needs to know more about him, needs to learn all the secrets he has, what makes him excited, sad, happy. Castiel needs to create the perfect outfit for him and take his picture to immortalize the moment that he as a designer would be complete. He need to see Dean wearing the piece, the collection that will be Castiel’s legacy and the very thought of it terrifies and excites him all at once.
“Look, I might be way out of my league here and I don’t even know if you’re into dudes, but I just have to ask” Dean says suddenly, turning around to face Castiel. Castiel forces his eyes to meet Dean, to at least look like he’s listening, while he has an internal discussion with himself over how strange he is behaving right now. “You seem like a cool guy and you are hot as balls. Do you wanna have coffee with me sometime? I can’t make it anywhere fancy but I know a place that’s not too terrible…”
“The Roadhouse” Castiel says quickly. His cheeks heat up almost instantly. He’s shocked. He’s never that quick to answer a question. He would normally weigh his options carefully, make sure this wasn’t just some trick to steal his designs or something equally horrible, but this time…
He clears his throat and says slower this time, “The Roadhouse is a nice establishment and their prices are affordable to… non-rich guys.” He smirks as he says the last few words, and lets himself enjoy the look of complete disbelief Dean’s face is showing.
“Seriously?” Dean questions, still flabbergasted, “You seriously want to go out with me?”
“Yes, I believe that was the question I was answering, right?” Castiel says.
“Yeah, but why? I’m just some crazy dude who’s you mistook as yours.”
“If you are regretting asking me, then it is alright” Castiel says.
“What? No, hell no I ain’t regretting anything! Just trying to understand. I hadn’t expected you to say yes.”
“Well, I find you interesting and would like to get another opportunity to talk with you again” Castiel says, “Perhaps at some place where I can wear a little more appropriate clothes.”
“Ah shit, you were in the middle of something, right…” Dean backs away towards the door again.
“I was in the middle of a bubble bath.” The snort that escapes Dean’s throat isn’t completely unexpected.
“Seriously dude? A bubble bath?” he asks. He is clearly having a lot of trouble stopping himself from laughing too hard.
“Are you regretting your decision yet?” Castiel asks.
“Oh no, I think it’s fucking adorable” he says.
“Well, I’ll just have to try harder next time then.” Dean rolls his eyes and smiles brighter. Castiel likes this man. He understands his poor excuse of a joke.
“Give it your best shot man.” Castiel can’t help but smile to himself as he turns away to grab one of his business cards lying in a small bowl on a dresser behind him. He picks up a pen and quickly writes his private cellphone number on it.
He turns around again and hands it to Dean who quickly scans it with his eyes before tucking it away in his inner pocket like it is something precious.
“Friday at two PM” Castiel says, “I am done at the studio around one thirty so I should be there on time. Do you know the place?”
“Yeah, it’s actually a friend of the family who owns it, so it’s like a second home to me.”
“Then you shouldn’t have trouble finding it I suppose” Castiel says.
“Nope. Thanks man, I can’t wait! I’ll see you there then!” Dean waves goodbye and quickly disappears through the door. Castiel walks over to close it, but stops to listen. Dean is taking the stairs and not the elevator. It makes Castiel chuckle for some reason. Dean truly is a strange man.
When the door close behind him and the lock clicks again, Castiel leans against the door. He stares down the hall at Crowley, who is sitting in the doorway into his bedroom, waving his tail around lazily.
He can’t help but think of his mother in this very second. He hopes she is looking at him from Heaven with a smile on her face. He would like to think she would be very proud of him now.
He didn’t let his mind run off with him, didn’t let himself talk him out of a situation that is possibly disastrous is Dean is not who he claims to be.
This time, Castiel let his heart choose and he has a feeling that it is the best decision he will ever make in his life.
FIN.