Chapter Text
Breathe.
It’s just Cas.
He’s not gonna laugh in your face.
He might actually say yes.
Maybe.
And if he doesn’t, it’s no big deal. Won’t change anything. If he says no, he’ll still be your best friend.
That you’ve been in love with for twelve years.
No big deal.
Right?
Right.
Fuck.
Who’s he kidding? If he says no, he’ll be completely heartbroken. And he’ll have to smile and laugh it off like he’s not totally shattered on the inside.
Because…it’s Cas. It’s always been Cas.
The stupid butterflies swirling around in Dean’s stomach were only getting worse the longer he sat waiting for Cas to show up.
The Bluebird Diner was their place. At least since they were sixteen and gained a bit of freedom. Once a week (twice if they ran into some extra cash), they’d spend a few hours in the corner booth, cramming for exams, ranting about parents, and daydreaming about their future.
That’s why it felt like the best place to finally nut up and ask his best friend on a date. A real, honest to god, romantic date. Charlie practically swooned over the idea, encouraging him to do it the very next time they met at the diner. To just rip the bandaid off and get it out there.
So here he was. Psyching himself up to throw open the metaphorical closet door and admit to his best friend that, not only was he definitely bisexual, but that Cas himself had a big part to play in that decision.
Cas messaged him earlier that morning, asking to meet at their booth at six. Dean checked his phone, mentally squashing one of the buzzing little fuckers in his belly.
6:12pm. Weird.
Cas was never late for stuff. He couldn’t even blame it on traffic. Lawrence, Kansas doesn’t even have traffic.
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean’s head popped up right as Cas reached their booth and dropped down into his seat.
“Hey! There he is,” Dean said, smiling at his best friend.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Cas looked like he’d just been told that Santa wasn’t real. He sat, hunched over, shoulders dropped, head down. His hair was a mess, even more than usual. In less than twenty seconds, Dean already knew something was wrong.
“Cas, what’s going on? Your parents giving you shit again?”
“Again would imply they actually stopped,” he answered flatly.
“Just spit it out, you’re making me nervous, man,” Dean said, with a smirk, hoping to hide his own rising fears.
Cas fiddled with a fork on the table, before taking a breath to steady himself, dropping his hands back down to his sides and sitting up straight. Still focused on the white table cloth instead of looking at Dean, Cas spoke.
“I’m leaving.”
“What do you mean leaving?”
“I’m leaving town.”
Dean sat, waiting for the punchline.
“I can’t stay here Dean,” Cas continued. “My parents and I will never see eye to eye, you know that. I can’t… breathe here,” he paused, his lower lip trembling.
“Is this about medical school again? They’re still on your ass about going to KU? Man, you’re gonna end up with one of the highest GPAs in our class. You’ll be able to do whatever you want at any school you want. Why do they keep insisting you stay here?”
“If I stay here, then they can keep me under their magnifying glass. School is just a part of it. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for my mother. And my father is too much of a coward to disagree with her. And this town,” Cas paused, looking up and over to the massive front window of the diner where Main Street glowed in the late afternoon sun. “Everywhere I look in Lawrence just reminds me of things I can’t have. It’s suffocating. I have to get out.”
“When?”
“Saturday.”
“Graduation is on Saturday,” Dean tried to reason.
“I’m leaving right after the ceremony. I figure I can duck out during all the chaos and not be missed. My parents don’t know yet, so please don’t tell anyone.”
“You’ve been planning this? And you’re just now telling me?”
“You’re the only one I’m telling ahead of time, actually. I didn’t want you to worry,” Cas says with a small grin, as though he’s doing Dean a kindness.
“Too late, I’m already worried. Where are you even going?”
“Gabriel invited me to come stay with him in New York for a while, until I can figure out the rest. I just need a clean break from this place. Everything here.”
Dean continued to stare, feeling the silence between them grow heavier by the second.
Everything here .
“Even me?”
“Yes,” Cas answered quietly. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
“So, you’re gonna run away and leave everyone here just so you can camp out on your cousin’s couch?” Dean couldn’t hold back the cold sting in his voice. “Why does this feel like a goodbye?”
“Because it is. At least for a while.”
Tears fell from Cas’ blue eyes as he stood, and finally, finally looked up.
“Goodbye, Dean."
He didn’t know how long he sat there after Cas walked out. He just stared at the door, his vision blurring everything else around him. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the shatter of a glass as it hit the linoleum floor several tables away. But he didn’t react. He just sat.
Frozen.
Ten Years Later
Dean gently dropped the hood shut on the old Honda he’d been working on. He used a semi clean corner of a rag to wipe the excess oil off his hands before heading to the sink in the back of the garage for a better scrub. Mrs. Peterson was due in soon to pick up her old clunker and he usually preferred to look somewhat professional for his customers, even if most of them had known him since he was in diapers. His stomach grumbled, a friendly reminder that he’d skipped breakfast that morning. Tossing a paper towel in the trash, he headed into the office, instantly grateful for the blast of cool air in the air conditioned space.
He plopped down in the old leather desk chair and let his head fall back to rest his eyes for a minute before he logged into the computer. The chair was a million years old, worn and soft. There were probably much nicer and fancier office chairs he could replace it with, but this one had been Bobby’s. He had agreed with Ash on updating the bookkeeping software on the computer, spent a chunk of his savings to upgrade the garage work bays, and even hired Charlie to design his website. But keeping the chair felt like keeping a piece of Bobby here. He’d been gone a good two years now, but he’s pretty sure if he threw it out, Bobby’s ghost would pop out of nowhere and tear him a new one.
On the desk, his cell phone buzzed. He unlocked it, not surprised to find a message from none other than Charlie herself. No one else texted him at this time of day. Sam was a couple time zones away, and usually too busy to chat anyway.
>>>Hey handmaiden. Lunch?
<<<Say less. I’m starving. Let me make sure Ash is good to man the fort and I can head over. Ten minutes?
>>>Roger that. Ten minutes.
Dean groaned as he stood up, the muscles in his back already sore halfway through the day. He stepped back out into the garage and headed over to the minivan currently up on blocks. Ash’s dirty overalls and boots stuck out from underneath it, one foot tapping to the Bob Seger song currently wafting through the speakers. Dean gave that foot a tap with his own steel toe boot.
“Yeah, one sec!”
Half a minute later, Ash rolled himself out from underneath the van, squinting up at Dean.
“Sup, hombre?”
“Hey, I’m gonna run over and meet the queen for lunch. Why don’t you go inside and cool off for a bit. And if Mrs. Peterson comes in for her car, can you tell her I’m sorry I missed her, and remind her that her inspection sticker expires in two months, so she’ll need to come back in for that.”
Ash sat up and not so gracefully picked himself up off the shop floor.
“Will do, boss. Tell her royal highness I said hi.”
“Dude. Don’t call me boss. It’s weird,” Dean replied, shaking his head and making his way out to where he always parked the Impala.
✸✸✸✸✸
Charlie was already in her spot in the corner booth when Dean walked in. The tiny bell on the door was a soft familiar jingle he’d heard since childhood. After all these years, the Bluebird was still a solid piece of life in Lawrence. Dean’s booth in the corner practically had his name carved into the table top. Sure, the small town had a few other places to go, but why would he go anywhere else? His booth in the back held so many memories. That’s where Bobby offered to hand the garage over to him full time. It’s the spot where Sam announced he’d gotten into Stanford and was heading to California. And then when he found out he was going to be an uncle. It’s where he and Charlie met up to plan their LARPing adventures over baskets of curly fries. It’s where Cas…
Anyway.
Charlie was clicking away on her laptop when Dean dropped into his seat.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” Dean set his keys and phone to the side and folded his arms in front of him.
Charlie sat up straight, looking up from her screen.
“Glad you asked, because I want your opinion on it. The reunion committee asked me to design a few posters and do a digital flyer to send out to remind anyone who hasn’t RSVP’d about the party next weekend. I’m just about done and ready to send out the emails. Will you take a look?”
“What party?”
Charlie stared back, clearly unamused.
“I see someone hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Could you please check your email once in a while? It’s our party. Our ten year reunion on Saturday. You’re going, even if I have to drag you there.”
“Wha-...What if I was busy that night? What if I had a date or something?”
“Please. I know you’re not busy. And, I ask this as your best friend who loves you, but when exactly was your last date?”
“Rude.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Charlie said smugly. “Come on, it’ll be fun. A lot of our class actually RSVP’d yes, so it should be a really good turn out. They’re using the high school gym, and got Benny to do the catering so at least you know the food will be good.”
“Cajun food at the school gym. Fancy. But, sure. I’ll be there,” Dean sighed. “If you’re gonna drag me there anyways.”
A tall skinny teenager named Alfie came up to take their order. “Hey guys. Dean, the usual?”
“Yeah, thanks kid.”
“And Charlie?”
“I’ll do the Bluebird platter with fries and a side of ranch, please. And a sweet tea.”
“You got it. I’ll go put those in.”
Dean fiddled with the paper napkin in front of him while Charlie finished a few more things on her laptop.
“Okay, here it is,” she said, turning her Macbook so he could see the screen. An email draft was pulled up, displaying a large graphic design with all the information for the reunion. Charlie had gone with a nostalgic theme, using their school colors and mascot, the Fighting Cobras.
“Looks great, Charlie,” Dean said honestly. Charlie’s work was always high quality. “Man, ten years,” he added, leaning back against his seat to watch all the life on Main Street pass by, but not really focusing on any of it. “Hard to believe it’s been that long. Feels like it was just yesterday, but I know so much has happened around here since then.”
Dean suddenly felt a pang in his chest, thinking of all the people he’d said goodbye to over the years. Bobby lost a quick battle with cancer a few years ago. Obviously, Sam was alive and well and pretty much always answered his phone, but being a husband and father and successful lawyer out in San Francisco meant Dean was pretty low on the priority list and would only see his brother a couple times a year for the holidays. Various friends eventually left town as well, on to bigger and better things than what Lawrence could offer them. His father died when Dean was twenty-two, after his truck hit a patch of black ice on the highway and lost control. And then of course there was…
“Do you have access to see who sent back an RSVP to this thing?”
Alfie approached the table with a tray and began offloading their plates and drinks in front of them.
“Here we are, guys. Just holler at me if ya’ll need anything okay,” he said, already retreating back to the counter
They both nodded at him before Charlie met Dean’s eyes with a gentle smile. “Yes, I do. In fact, if you click on the RSVP link, you’ll see the list of people coming. And no,” she added softly. “He hasn’t responded.”
Dean nodded again in acknowledgement, putting his focus on his cheeseburger instead of his sudden disappointment.