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Castiel is unreasonably nervous. He knows it’s unreasonable.
It doesn’t help.
They’re meeting at the SoulCenter in Illinois—to minimize their travel, the official letter says, despite it taking Castiel two flights and a two-hour drive to get there. He doesn’t know where his soulmate is coming from, the privacy laws are very strict about that, but he has to imagine it’s pretty far west.
Signage leads him to numbered cabins—his letter indicates he’s in 5—and he notes their precise spacing—another calculated effort, he’s sure, designed to make attendees feel like they’re alone with their soulmate instead of lined up in little cookie-cuttere fascimilies of houses. Which of course, they all are. Cabin 5 is covered with generic art in blues and yellows to encourage a happy bonding, according to the letter insert that is still in his pocket, despite being memorized and well-worn.
There’s no sign of his soulmate inside, so Castiel ignores the feeling of panic that rises and follows more signage to the facility restaurant, where he’s supposed to meet his soulmate in a properly romantic setting.
His palms are sweating as he’s led back into the dimly lit area, candles flickering on each of the tables. There are a few people there—two of them watch him with half smiles, another turns to watch a waitress go by. Castiel tries not to hyperventilate. They seem like nice people. All of them. The small guy with the hopeful grin, the sweet girl with the quiet smile... and the other one is gorgeous, if distracted.
Of course he ends up with gorgeous.
The guy looks up at the maître d' and then at Castiel with a blank look. Castiel finally sits down and the guy grins slowly. “Oh, hey,” he says, reaching out a hand. “You’re him, huh?” He glances at the maître d' again.
“Please enjoy your stay,” he says with a small incline of his head, and then walks back to the front of the restaurant.
“I’m sorry I’m not what you were expecting,” Castiel says, smiling carefully, some of the fragile hope that had lived in him until that moment beginning to shrivel.
“Oh, please, don’t be sorry. You’re my soulmate! That’s way better than…” He waves dismissively at the rest of the restaurant. “I’m Dean, by the way.”
“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel.”
“Cool name! East coaster? They love those angel names!”
Castiel takes a deep breath. Now he’s a stereotype. “Yes,” he says finally. “New York.”
“Damn! You’re a city boy, then?”
Castiel shakes his head, his mouth tight. He forces it into a smile. “No, I should have specified. I’m from upstate, the mountains.”
“Hey! I’m a rural kid, too—no mountains for me, though. Kansas is about as flat as they come, you can see for miles and miles.” He sails his hand along the top of the table and swings it out into the aisle.
“Oh,” Castiel says. “That sounds...nice.” It sounds horrifying. The drive through Illinois had been alien enough. Castiel liked the forests upstate, the way the hills and mountains were covered in fog in the spring and snow in the winter.
Dean picks up the menu and shakes it. “What do you think, man? I’ve got a hell of an appetite after that trip, I’ll tell you. I hope this isn’t, like, a place where they feed you a carrot with chicken foam, you know?” He pulls a face and flips the menu. “Did they give you a beer list?”
Castiel checks under his menu, smiling weakly.
Dean’s door is half open and Castiel raises a hand to knock, then pauses.
“I dunno, Sammy. He’s so... buttoned up. I think if I ever let the real me rip, he’d have a heart attack. He feels old, you know? Put together. What kind of twenty-year-old has their shit together? He’s wearing a suit!”
Castiel’s stomach plummets.
“Hey. You callin’ me sexist? I know I was talking about curves and whatever—oh my god, dude, you should have seen the waitress at the restaurant. She was so—”
Castiel wishes he could hear the other half of the conversation. He wishes he hadn’t heard this half.
“Whatever. We’re not married, you know. They make mistakes, don’t they? With this matching thing? I just...Sammy, he’s never heard of Zep. Zep! It’s like, the soundtrack to our entire childhood. How do you share a life with someone who can’t understand your entire life’s soundtrack? He doesn’t like classical, he says.”
“I don’t know if I like it,” Castiel clarifies. “We never listened to it.”
Dean whirls around and stares. “Sammy, I gotta go.”
He stands for a long moment.
“My link wasn’t working,” Castiel explains, finally, just to fill the space. “I wasn’t sure if it was the whole cabin. But it seems yours is fine.”
Dean at least has the grace to look embarrassed. “Oh, man. I’m so sorry. That was...Jesus. I’m...look, I promise you, you don’t even want a guy like me. Like, I’m a mess. You look like you’ve pretty much got your shit together and I...man, I super don’t. I’d be happy wearing flannel and driving a muscle car for the rest of my life. Simple things. And I’m crude. Seriously. The shit that comes out of my mouth—if my brother could disown me, he definitely would. So, you know. You’re lucky. Uh, that you can. And, hey, at least we know, now. Took my parents like, ten years. Dad never did find another poor sucker to put up with him. This way, you got plenty of time.”
Castiel looks at him. Opens his mouth to answer. Nothing comes out. He sighs. “I’m going to get some sleep,” he finally manages. He doesn’t know whether the twisted feeling in his stomach is relief or disappointment.
The cabin has separate rooms, both with huge beds. He tries not to think why as he sets out his toiletries on the small bureau, largest to smallest.
Dean wasn’t what he’d thought he’d find, either. He hadn’t had any ideas, or really, any preferences. But he’d imagined someone quiet. Maybe someone who needed time to come out of their shell. Someone who would understand that he needed some space, and quiet. Who would understand his thirst for knowledge, his need for mountain air and stars and wonder. Who would find some sort of value in the strange quietness his peers had always made fun of.
He slips outside after tossing and turning for an hour. The lights are on a timer, and the area around him is blessedly dark and quiet. There’s the high-pitched sounds of frogs nearby. A cool breeze coming from the east. The sky is clear and the stars are quietly shining above him. At least one thing hasn’t changed. He can still pick out Orion’s belt. The big dipper. It soothes him. He’s closer to calm than he’s been since he started this whole adventure.
“Oh, hey,” Dean says quietly as he comes around the side of the cabin, making Castiel jump. “Hadn’t figured you for a stargazer. I guess…” He rubs his neck and looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “I guess I made some assumptions.”
Castiel shrugs. Something hurts inside him. Nothing he can put words to, yet. “You’re not who I thought, either. Maybe it’s better this way. Like you said, more time to find someone the old-fashioned way.”
“It’s not you, you know,” Dean says. They stand side by side in the dark and it’s easier that way. Not having to look at his face. Not having to wonder what that look in his eyes means. Castiel already knows. That Dean’s not interested, that he sees nothing worthwhile in him.
“Right,” Castiel agrees weakly. “Do you know the constellations?” he asks, hoping Dean will take the hint and move on.
“Course. Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. The Hunter. Polaris—not a constellation, but pretty vital if you get lost in the woods.”
“The North Star.”
“Yup, brightest star in the sky.”
“That’s actually a misconception. It is, perhaps, the most important, but it’s not the brightest—”
He hears Dean chuckle next to him, and he closes his mouth abruptly.
“Oh, man. You’re a nerd just like my brother. He’d love you. He taught me, actually. All this star stuff? All him. He likes astrology... He was...like ten, maybe? And he loved that shit. My mom, she was working and tired, and...well, it wasn’t easy is all. So I’d take Sam out, we’d sit on the car and look at the stars and he’d show me. Follow the top of the big dipper over to the little dipper, there’s the North Star, he’d go through them every night.”
Dean shakes his head and Castiel is quiet, wanting to hear more. Anything Dean is willing to share. “Smart kid, I’m telling you. Maybe you’re his soulmate. He’s too young to get paired up yet, maybe I’m supposed to keep you on the hook until he ages up. You’d…he’s the smart one. Thoughtful. Studies like crazy. Knows all these facts about the stars and medicine and law...the kid studies like it’s his job.”
“What else did he teach you?” Castiel asks, still staring up, ignoring the ache starting in his neck as he watches, imagining he can see the stars moving incrementally in their set paths.
“Oh, god. What didn’t he? He had a documentary phase. Space. Bees. Whales. Did you know whale tongues weigh as much as an old car? Or that seahorse males carry the young? Speaking of which, I think my mom is like the last generation of women who carried their children in their bodies. Crazy, right? Yeah, both my and my brother! I think she’s nuts, but she said she liked having us close. I used to listen to Sam inside her stomach—I know it’s not her actual stomach,” he clarifies quickly with an audible eyeroll.
Castiel smiles.
“Anyway. It was stupid, probably. We learned about childbirth in school. Dangerous as fuck. But it was really cool to see Sam grow like that. If I have a kid I’ll go see them every damn day while they’re growing. Sing or something. Get ‘em used to my voice—” He clears his throat suddenly. “Man, I really can talk, huh? Sorry man. I know you were out here for some space. I’ll just...I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Dean?” Castiel asks quickly, before he can walk away.
“Yeah?”
“You could...do you know Casseopia?”
Dean scoffs. “Do I know Casseopia.” He takes the few steps back to Cas’s side and points up. “She’s right there. I should’ve known the North Star wasn’t the brightest, huh? She’s vain for a reason, I guess. Those are some bright lights.”
“You know the myths, too?”
“Yeah. You know. Sam.” He sounds uncomfortable, as if he shouldn’t know such things, and Castiel smiles again.
“I always liked the myths the best. The idea of these great beings riding chariots across the sky or climbing up into it...it always seemed so much more exciting than here.”
“You ever think of studying it? You seem like a smart guy. Gonna be a rocket scientist when you grow up?”
Castiel laughs softly. Sadly. “No, nothing like that. My family has a firm. Imports and exports. I’m good with rules, laws. I’ve already started reviewing so I’ll be ready. I’ll be helping out there while I get my MBA.”
Dean is quiet for long enough that Castiel looks over. He’s staring up, still, his face oddly blank. “Wow. Yeah. That sounds really important.” It’s not sarcastic. Just...distant.
“I guess it is, to some people,” Castiel says quietly. “I think I’m going to head inside. Thank you, Dean.”
“Yeah.”
Castiel leaves him in the yard, looking up, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.
Castiel finds Dean in the kitchen, singing off-key and pouring batter at the stove.
“Good morning,” Castiel says, sliding into a chair at the island.
Dean jumps and grabs his chest. “You move like a damn ghost, man. I’m going to have twelve heart attacks before the week’s over!” His smile is wry, his mouth full.
“Sorry about that.” Castiel opens the cabinet to Dean’s left and grabs a mug. “So, yesterday,” he says. “You said...I guess your parents aren’t together?”
“Yeah, my dad kinda went off the deep end, I guess. After the war.” Dean turns back to the stove, shrugging. “So I know about this soulmate stuff. You know? The system can be as logical as a machine can make it but people aren’t perfect, you know? They’re complex. Messy.”
Castiel nods and pours himself a cup of coffee, then leans on the counter to sip it. He’s had similar misgivings, believing fervently at times, and then losing faith completely. “My uncle and cousins—it’s a military family. It, ah...it didn’t go well.”
Dean looks up. “Fucked up their matches?”
Castiel shrugs. “‘Fucked up’ everything. Luc got matched with a psych hospital. Mike’s left him. My uncle...no one knows exactly what happened. He was high up. A General last we knew. He disowned everyone and left. Anna’s the only one who made it out unscathed, more or less. I know people are complex. I know they change.” He turns away, busying himself with refolding a blanket they haven’t touched. “Honestly, it’s better this way,” he says. “I was really anxious on the way here. It’s not that I don’t trust the process. I know a lot of mates that are really happy. I just, I wouldn’t even know how to fit into someone else’s life, you know?”
He thinks he might even believe it.
Dean turns, setting his hip against the counter with his spatula still in hand. “Oh, man. I’m so glad. Just because I have trouble with the whole thing doesn’t mean you’re not great. I mean, obviously.” He gestures broadly at Cas, as if it’s self explanatory.
Castiel glances down. Then up. “Obviously?”
“Are you serious? With the—“ he circles his hand over his face. “And the fuck me hair and whatever’s happening with your thighs? You’re, ah, pretty hot, man.”
“Oh,” Castiel says, taken aback. “I—thank you. Umm. You, too.”
“The one thing I got going for me.”
“I think you’ve got a lot going for you,” Castiel says as Dean turns to flip the pancakes with a thoughtless ease.
“Oh yeah? I mean, I’ve got a nice car.” He turns back to wiggle his eyebrows and points the spatula at Castiel. “A rapier wit.”
“And you’re kind and smart and generous. I hope the person...I hope people see that about you. They’re good traits to have.”
Dean glances at him, looking incredulous. “What kool-aid have you been drinking, buddy? I’m lots of things, but those ain’t it.”
“You supported your brother and helped your mother during difficult times. You learned a variety of trivia and its context. And despite your obvious reluctance, you’ve been kind to me. Unless you’re making all of those pancakes for yourself.” He quirks an eyebrow.
“These? Oh, I mean…. well, I was awful to you when you got here. This doesn’t make up for that! Anybody would do the same.”
Castiel smiles at him, remembers how Mike and Luc would lock him in a closet when he had the audacity to be a child in their vicinity. “No. They definitely wouldn’t.”
Dean looks at him, smile fading to something like understanding. “Well, they should. Grab the maple syrup?”
“I hope it’s not fake,” Castiel says when he sets his coffee down to check the refrigerator.
“Maple syrup snob?” Dean’s voice is gentle in its teasing.
“We all have our quirks,” Castiel says, rummaging through the condiments.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
They spend the week together, and Castiel tries, he really tries not to get attached. Dean is…Dean is so different than he is. Castiel certainly understands how he surprised him. How he’s not what Dean’s looking for.
But he can’t help but be drawn in. Dean clearly got a lot going on. He says, more than once, how much of a project he’d be, as if this somehow makes him less than, as if it solves the problem of Castiel wanting to know him.
They feel like friends when the week is over, and it’s going to be hard to leave, knowing Dean will be going in the opposite direction. Knowing some piece of Castiel will go with him.
His rental car is all packed. Everything is ready. Everything but him.
“Dean.” Castiel’s hand trails down to Dean’s of its own accord. He squeezes once and then lets go. “Even though…” Tears prickle at his eyes and he swallows them back. “I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you’re my soulmate, even if...” He can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say out loud, you don’t want me.
Dean goes still. Terrifyingly still. “Are you?” He asks, and there’s something in his face, a twist to his mouth that is painful and maybe just tinged with hope.
Castiel’s heart lurches, and he snatches Dean’s hand again, squeezes and refuses to let go. “I thought you didn’t want…”
“You...you said it was better this way.”
Castiel laughs softly. “I was trying to convince myself.”
“I’m a real mess, Cas.” He says it like he half hopes Castiel will change his mind. “That hasn’t changed.”
“We can figure it out. If you want.”
“Um, okay. Okay.”
“Okay,” Castiel repeats. He lets himself smile. A real smile, teeth and everything.
Dean steps forward and tugs to draw Castiel close. “Can I kiss you?”
Castiel tips his head up and gives a tiny nod, his stomach in his throat, hands shaking.
Dean holds him steady and brings their lips together, slow and gentle. It feels like the ground is shifting underneath him, like he’s falling or flying, and Dean is right there with him every moment of it.
Steady.
“You ever ride in a classic car? Like, 1960’s, classic?”
Castiel laughs and shakes his head.
“Would you like to?” Dean asks, a gleam in his eye.
“As long as you’re driving.”
Dean laughs. “Always. Cas,” he looks at him for a long moment. “I have a hard time believing in soulmates, you know?”
“I understand. But we don’t need to believe in soulmates to believe in each other, right?”
Dean rubs his eyes quickly and then nods. “Yeah. Right.”
And then he goes to Castiel’s rental to grab his suitcase, and something loosens in Castiel’s chest, a knot he hadn’t even known was there.
“Where are we going?” Castiel asks.
Dean shrugs. “I figured we’d just see where the highway takes us. East, probably?”
A week ago, that response would have given Castiel a panic attack. Now, he’s looking forward to it—figuring out a path with Dean.
“Sounds good,” he says, and he laughs.