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After the Banshee the ringing in his ears remains; a dull, irritating, quiet itch-like ring a mimic of vertigo. It’s more than just irritating; it’s fucking annoying. When he goes to bed later that evening Dean tries to sleep on his side, pressing his ear into the pillow hoping that maybe if he presses down hard enough it’ll stop. His ear only hurts more, so he ends up lying on his back, arms crossed over his chest in frustration and counting backwards from one thousand. He wants to sleep, he really does, but with the sound and the combined anxious pressure on his chest from today’s earlier events; getting sleep tonight is seeming to be a hopeless cause.
It isn’t just the ringing, his life would be too simple if all his issues boiled down to a pestering ring in his ears.
Mildred’s words ping-pong around in his brain, hitting every Cas buzzer up there and it’s like a thousand jackpots spring to life at once.
Darling, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years on the road, it’s when somebody is pining for somebody else.
Is he really that obvious?
He’s tried so hard for so long to keep what he feels for Cas hidden from the outside world. Over the years he built up a wall, full of cinderblocks, strong red bricks, but most of all a charming cavalier attitude and an indifference to any mention of the word “love.” But now Cas is taking down his wall, brick by brick and people are noticing; people who barely know him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a flashing sign over his head, decked out in sparkling red and pink hearts saying, “DEAN IS IN LOVE WITH CAS!!!”
Dean rolls over onto his side and sits up, grasping at his face with his hands. The ringing has dulled now, slowly fading away with the passage of time; only allowing the Cas-ache in his heart to intensify. Great.
The talk they had the other day, albeit weird and slightly off, was nice. He’d needed to confess to Cas about Amara for some time, there just never seemed to be the right time. If he was being honest, he felt bad, like he is betraying Cas or something. The pull he feels to Amara isn’t something he wants; it lingers in his gut like a sour apple, rotting the longer it stays there and the only way the pain lessens is going near her. The pull he feels towards Cas? Well, that’s something completely different. It’s all encompassing, constantly filling his body with warmth, like sitting in the glow of a never-setting sun, and he wants to bathe in the warm until his skin sparks with fire. Wanting Cas feels like how he imagines touching a star would be.
Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, Mildred was right, he is pining.
For soft, slightly chapped lips against his, for wide-spread hands sliding up his spine and wrapping him into a warm embrace. He yearns for Cas’ touch, on his shoulder, his knee, his cheeks, fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair. He doesn’t care; he just wants.
It’s been weeks since Cas touched him last, and seeing him yesterday did nothing to ease the ache. Ever since Christmas Eve, when Cas made love to him slow and easy for the first time beneath these exact sheets Dean hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him and how his hands seem to know every single one of the spots that make Dean melt. But something's off with Cas, that much is clear, because he didn’t kiss him yesterday. Cas always kisses him in greeting, even when it’s only been a few days since they’ve seen each other.
To be fair, they’ve only been doing this for the past couple months, but still Dean’s pretty sure somehow he fucked up and now Cas is giving him the cold shoulder. That’s the only explanation for the distance.
If he was a responsible boyfriend, (partner? what even are they?) he would call and ask, that’s what he should do, but Cas went AWOL after their interaction the other day and Dean doesn’t wanna bug him. There’s too much shit going on and Cas has enough on his plate already.
Cas will be back in a few days, they’ll talk then and everything will be fine.
But Dean doesn’t wanna wait that long, he can’t; he might die.
Dean tugs his hands down his face and off, glancing over at his phone where it rests on the nightstand. Impulsively, he picks it up and scrolls through the numbers until he lands on Cas’. His thumb hesitates, brushing over the call button, and then slams down. Lifting his hand up to his ear, he closes his eyes and waits.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
This is Castiel, please leave a message.
Shit.
“Hey Cas, it’s just me... Dean. I.. uhm I know you’re probably busy or whatever, but I just wanted to call and check-in make sure we’re good. You seemed a little off yesterday so I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Anyway, check-in soon, you’re worrying me, man.”
He pauses, not sure if he should leave some sappy ending to that already awful voicemail.
Fuck it.
“See you soon, hopefully. Bye."
He hangs up and places his phone back down on the nightstand, rolling back onto his back. The ringing is still there, fading still, only a whisper in his ears now, but the longing for Cas has only intensified and the lingering memories in the room are making it worse. He needs to get out of here.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sits back up, swings his legs back over and gets up, snatching his phone and tossing it into his pocket. He’s careful to shut the door quietly so as not to wake Sam, and pads down the hallway towards the front door.
Outside is startlingly dark, he can barely see his feet in front of him as he walks down the lone two-lane road. They’re in the middle of nowhere, far enough from Lebanon that no lights reach, exploding the sky above him into a twinkling canopy of stars. He doesn’t know where he’s going, honestly he doesn’t really care. It’s peaceful here and right now nothing’s chasing him, and even though Cas might not be here with him, he still sees him in the stars.
Wow , he’s not sure if he’s ever thought of something that fucking cheesy before.
This is what Cas does to him, turns him into a giant cheeseball. He’d go great with crackers and a nice bottle of wine.
Along the road he finds a covered electrical box and sits down on it, eyes fixed on the Big Dipper high above him as if that one constellation has the solution to cure the ache in his heart. Digging his phone out of his pocket he checks his calls. Nothing, not that he expected there to be something so soon, but his heart still sinks down into his stomach. Opening a new message he types in Cas’ name and writes something, sending it off before he has a chance to panic and take it back.
I miss you. 
He chuckles at himself for the emoticon, but it’s fitting and he knows Cas will understand. Dean pockets his phone again, shoving his hands into his pockets and returns his gaze back to the sky. Twinkling stars transfix his vision and he settles back to wait.
The ache still bounces around in his tummy, anxiety pooling there and leaving a sour taste in his mouth, but he’ll deal with the ache. It’s the least he can do.
He made Cas wait for years; now it’s his turn.