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“No, Lydia, I have ornaments to make, craft kits to put together, and cookies to ice. I don’t have the time to take her to storytime today. It’s supposed to be your time with her right now. What on Earth could possibly be more important than your goddamn daughter?” The last two words are whispered to prevent little ears from hearing.
“Dean, you know it would be a huge deal for me to land this client. He doesn’t usually do Saturdays, this is really my only chance. Just let her entertain herself while you’re working.”
Dean is heated. Absolutely incensed. He paces the kitchen floor while his little girl sits in front of the TV, glued to Bluey. “No, she can’t just entertain herself, she’s four, she’s going to want to try and ‘help’. I can’t have her around when I’m using the glue gun.”
“It’s not my fault you decided to become a PTA mom! Look, it’s just for the morning, I’ll be back to pick her up by 1pm,” Lydia tells him. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard to keep from absolutely losing his shit. “But she will know it’s a storytime Saturday, I guarantee it. If you don’t show up for it so she can see Mr. Novak, you’re going to have a meltdown on your hands. She’s got the biggest crush on the guy. It’s really cute, and honestly, I don’t blame her. That dude is smoking hot.”
Storytime it is, Dean supposes. Well, at least he’s going to have eye candy, if his daughter and ex-lover are any indication. “Fine,” Dean spits, “but this doesn’t mean you get extra time with her this week. You’re forfeiting these hours, get it?” Dean takes every moment he can get with his daughter, and he’s not giving any of it away to Lydia. Seems like Lydia doesn’t have the same problem.
“Got it,” Lydia accedes. “Storytime is at–”
“Ten, but we need to be there by nine thirty to get a good seat. Nine forty-five at the latest, I know, you told me twice, and texted it to me,” Dean tells her. “You know, I’m not as stupid as you think I am. We survived nearly three years without you.” He knows it’s a low blow, but his feelings towards his ex are not exactly sunshine and roses. In his opinion, she should have just stayed gone.
Emma had only a vague concept of what ‘Mama’ meant, and getting her to stay with Lydia had been a massive challenge. Even now, she prefers Dean and will often ask to come home in the middle of Lydia’s week with her. Dean doesn’t mind, he adores his little girl. His sun rises and sets with her. Lydia is more focused on her career, and being a parent comes after.
“Right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Lydia says after a moment. Dean resists the urge to gloat. “I guess I’ll see you around one?”
“Yep,” Dean replies tersely. “We’ll be here.” Lydia has barely finished saying goodbye when Dean disconnects the call. Setting his phone down on the counter so that he doesn’t throw it, Dean takes a few deep breaths. He needs to get his shit together if he’s going to get to the library on time. It’s eight forty-five now, but the library is only a short drive away from Dean’s house. It had actually been one of the selling points for Dean.
Growing up, libraries had been a safe haven for him. No matter what city John dragged them to, Dean could count on there being a library. The sameness of them all – the smell of old paper, rows of books, and later on, a handful of computers – was a comfort to Dean, a consistency that he didn’t get elsewhere. A good portion of his childhood had been spent sitting in the aisle, reading as much of a book as he could before the library closed for the day. He didn’t have a fixed address, and getting a library card would have been impossible. Even if he had one, they’d be gone soon anyway.
“Heyyy, munchkin,” Dean calls, grabbing the remote from the back of the couch and shutting off the end credits of the most recent Bluey episode. He loves streaming services for the ease of use with a small child, but he hates the way each episode rolls right into the other. If he’s not careful, both he and Emma get stuck watching that little pup’s adventures for hours.
“Daddy!” Emma cries happily, flinging herself up and over the couch, into Dean’s arms. You’d think he’d been gone for days, not just twenty minutes. “We goin’ ta thee Mithter Nodak now?” He knows she’ll grow out of it eventually, but right now Dean thinks Emma’s lisp is adorable.
“Yes, we’re going to get ready to go see Mr. Novak,” Dean confirms.
“You promise?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe Dean will take over for Lydia today.
“Cross my heart. We just need to get you out of your jammies and into some clothes, okay?” Emma nods furiously, then leaps out of Dean’s arms. She bounces once on the couch cushion before she rolls off it, right into a sprint towards her bedroom.
Dean doesn’t follow right away. Emma’s little ritual of picking out clothing is one she prefers to do alone. It often results in some…interesting outfits, but Dean’s not going to be the one to criticize a preschooler’s fashion sense. Instead, he makes sure their little go-bag is full. Extra underwear and leggings, baby wipes, several types of snacks, and Georgie – her stuffed Curious George, which he’s honestly surprised didn’t go with her to get dressed.
Sure enough, as soon as she’s out of her room, Emma is asking, “Where’th Georgie?”
“He’s already in his safety seat,” Dean tells her. The only way he was able to convince Emma that Georgie needs to go in the bag sometimes is by convincing her it’s for his safety – just like she has to ride in a booster seat in the van.
“Otay! Ready to go, Daddy?” Emma asks, staring up at him with excitement.
“Ready to go, baby girl,” Dean confirms. He gets her into her shoes and her spring jacket, glancing at the clock on the wall as he does. She’s in the ‘I do it!’ phase of her life, and getting ready to go out is a time-consuming effort. Thankfully, they are out the door and into the station wagon with plenty of time to spare. He glances over at the tarp-covered shape in the other half of the driveway. One day he’ll be able to ditch this stupid Volvo and he and Emma will cruise in his Baby instead. Right now it’s not worth it to keep two vehicles in service, so Baby languishes in her corner.
Dean wishes Lydia had informed him last night that this would be happening – it would have been nice to walk the short distance in the bright spring sunshine. Dean resolves to bring Emma to the park after storytime, wanting her to get some fresh air before she takes her nap.
When they pull into the parking lot for the library, it’s completely full except for the accessible parking. He hates doing it, because he doesn’t feel disabled most days, but his shattered knee and occasional need for mobility aids had Sammy pestering Dean into getting the necessary placard. He’s grateful for it today – the next closest city lot is even farther away from the library than his house is. They never would have made it on time. Grimacing, he pulls into the spot, throwing the wagon into park.
“Ready, Freddie?” Dean asks, looking at Emma in the rearview mirror.
“Ready, Eddie!” is her exuberant response. She’s already fumbling with the five-point harness that keeps her safe, trying to press the middle button despite clearly lacking the strength.
“Whoa, slow down there, sweet pea, we’ve got plenty of time,” Dean tells her as he gets out, grabs the bag, and rounds the car. “We’re here early enough that you’re gonna get a good seat, I promise.”
“Otay!” Emma is in his arms like she’s on springs the moment she gets her arms out of the belts. “Leth go thee Mithter Nodak!” Dean hoists her up a little higher in his arms, stepping back to bump the door closed with his hip.
“Mi-sss-ter No-vvv-ak,” he demonstrates for her. Their speech pathologist had recommended that they not try to punish Emma when she says a word wrong, but to work on teaching her the correct way to say something.
“Mithhh-ter No-vvvv-ak,” she mimics. “Mithter Nodak! Mithter Nodak! I wanna see him!” She declares as she tries to throw herself out of Dean’s arms.
“Whoa, there, cowgirl,” he chides her gently. “Don’t wanna go fallin’ off now, do ya?” He makes his southern drawl more pronounced, drawing a giggle out of his baby girl.
“No,” she agrees, snuggling into his neck, instead. “Den I wouldn’t be able to thee Mithter No-vvv-ak again.”
When he gets inside, Dean only sees a young person behind the desk, with a nametag that reads ‘Hannah’. They move with a very fluid grace, and Dean gives up trying to determine their gender. He knows it’s impossible to know anyone’s unless they tell you themselves. Charlie taught him that.
“Hi, Hannah,” Dean greets. “I’m here for storytime with Mr. Novak, which room is that in?”
“Good morning, you two,” they greet cheerily. “Castiel will be reading to them in the children’s section up on the second floor.” They helpfully point to the staircase that leads upwards, though Dean is already very familiar with the children’s section.
“Thank you, Hannah,” Dean says with a smile. “I appreciate your help.”
“It was no problem at all,” they tell him. “Have fun!”
Dean’s not exactly sure how much fun he’s going to have, but at least Emma will be entertained for an hour. They take the stairs up, Dean stubbornly ignoring the fact that they have an elevator, despite his bad knee complaining on every step. He lives in a bungalow for a reason. They eventually get to the next floor, seeing a handful of children already scattered around a comfy looking arm chair. There are pillows and beanbags on the floor for the kids to use. The moment she’s put down, Emma runs to a black one with stylized thorny roses. At least she’s got good taste.
He spies some of the parents standing at the back of the room, and some at one of the tables. Both groups are chatting among themselves, and Dean feels awkward interrupting. That feeling doesn’t last for long, as Charlie comes bounding up to him. “Fancy seeing you here!” she chirps, throwing her arms around him. The second Emma notices, she comes running up to them, pillow under one arm, Georgie under the other.
“Auntie Charwie!” she yells, prompting Dean to shush her gently when several parents glare. Personally, he thinks it’s kind of ridiculous to expect a bunch of preschool and kindergarten age children to adhere to the same rules for quiet as the adults. He’s not saying to let them run wild, but kids are noisy sometimes; it’s just a fact of life.
Charlie swings Emma up into her arms, prompting a giggle. “Ith Kiki here?” Emma asks after she’s hugged Charlie so hard Dean’s surprised her head didn’t pop off. She looks around, then wiggles to be let down.
“Kiki’s just over there.” Charlie points to one of the sensory bins, this one full of kinetic sand and small toys like Hot Wheels and those little green soldiers. Emma runs off, surely to rope her cousin into some sort of shenanigans. The two of them get up to mischief like no others.
“So, you finally came to one of these,” Charlie teases with a poke to Dean’s midsection. She’s been trying to get Dean to come for months now, though he’s not really sure why. It’s not like he’s the one who will enjoy a children’s book read aloud.
“Yeah, not by choice, though,” Dean tells her. “Lydia bailed and won’t be getting Emma until early afternoon.”
“Well that’s shhh-crappy of her,” Charlie says, catching herself and scrunching up her nose like she’s smelled something awful. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what’s important.” She punches him lightly on the arm, then grabs him by the elbow to drag him towards the back of the room. There’s a couple of low benches off to the side, but still with a clear view of the story area, that aren’t completely full. Dean and Charlie snag seats, Charlie smiling mysteriously the whole time.
It’s not a mystery for long. A dark haired man, who must be Mr. Novak, strides into the room with a book under his arm. The moment they clock his presence, the children who weren’t already there run to the area in front of the chair. Emma and Kiki find room next to each other, sharing the pillow Emma had grabbed. Dean’s still not sure what all the fuss is about, until Mr. Novak – Castiel, if he remembers Hannah correctly – turns to sit in the armchair.
Dean doesn’t know where to look first. That dark hair is mussed like he just finished fucking an intern in the back room. His jaw is strong and defined,his aquiline nose much straighter than Dean’s own. His lips are large, pink, and pouty, and his eyes are the color of oceans under a twilight sun. He pulls out a pair of glasses with a dark cat-eye frame to perch on that nose, making him look even more distinguished.
When he’s able to pull his eyes away from his face, he watches Castiel settle himself in the chair, pushing himself up a bit before shifting backwards. The movement puts his massive biceps on display in his green polo, and suddenly Dean knows how he wants to die.
He almost does die when Castiel speaks, softly reminding the children that they need to be quiet and still for storytime. Even at a near whisper his voice is deep and gritty. He reminds himself that he’s at a children’s event to avoid any inappropriate reactions. Thank goodness, because sure enough, when Castiel holds the book up and reads the title, that rough baritone projects throughout the whole room.
“Benny Doesn’t Like to Be Hugged,” Castiel says, though the book is currently facing away from him. “Today’s story is about a boy who might be a little different than you are. I hope you like him as much as I do.”
The story begins, describing how Benny like trains, seedless grapes, and playing with the quiet kids, but Benny doesn’t like to be hugged. Dean listens, enraptured, as the story goes on.
“Sometimes Benny cries when the room gets too loud,” Castiel reads, looking out to the children after each page. “Sometimes he twirls away from the rest of the crowd.” Dean notices his eyes flick to one of the children, who is seated, but still doing his best to spin in a circle. He thinks that’s Jack, the child of a woman who works at the local courthouse. He’s met Kelly once or twice at school events, and she’s a lovely woman.
The story goes on, explaining that even though Benny can be fussy sometimes, and that he absolutely does not like to be hugged, he’s still worthy of being someone’s friend – someone’s best friend. Dean finds he’s enjoying this a lot more than he thought he would. They listen to two more stories, then Castiel closes the last one with an air of finality.
“Next week one of the books we’ll be reading is called ‘All Are Welcome’. It’s another story about people who may be different from you. I hope you enjoy it.” The last book lays closed in Castiel’s lap, and he smiles out at the children. Dean’s struck by how beautiful he looks, so soft and open. He finds himself staring, caught out when Castiel’s eyes meet his own. He sees them widen slightly, holding Dean’s gaze for a moment before flicking away to one of the children who have come to stand by him.
Emma is one of them. She has her hands on his knee, her little face turned up towards him, looking completely enraptured. Beside her, Kiki is doing her best to drag Emma away, probably so they can go back to playing together. Emma doesn’t want to go, though, and seems to be listening intently while Castiel speaks to another child. When he addresses her directly, however, she turns bright red, fleeing with Kiki to the play area. Dean can’t help but chuckle.
Afterwards, as the kids play, the parents mingle, chatting about menial subjects, nothing of any real importance. Dean and Charlie are talking with Kelly when Castiel comes up to them. Kelly smiles brightly looping her hand through his arm. “Have you met Dean?” she asks Castiel, pointing in his direction.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Castiel says, and there’s nothing in his voice to indicate that he’s not genuinely pleased to meet Dean. He reaches a hand out into the space between them, Dean putting his own hand out after taking a second to process.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Novak,” Dean greets as he slips his hand into Castiel’s. It’s large, warm, and grips his own perfectly. He swears there’s a sort of static that flows up his arm until he remembers that he should probably let go. He watches Novak’s eyes flick down, then up, quicker than most people would even notice. He’s probably forming opinions about Dean’s ripped jeans and band t-shirt.
“Please, Castiel is fine,” Dean is assured, graced by a small smile on those enticing lips. “You’re Emma’s father, correct?”
“Guilty as charged,” Dean replies, lifting up onto the balls of his feet for a second before dropping back down. “Any terrible behavior you can probably attribute to me,” he says with a grimace.
“I highly doubt that,” Castiel replies. “Besides, I have yet to see anything but perfect behavior from Emma while she’s here. She listens well, and when she can overcome her shyness, she asks questions afterwards that I wouldn’t expect from one so young. Do you read with her at home?”
“Every night, cross my heart,” Dean confirms, as if he doesn’t think Castiel will believe him. “It’s not bedtime without four or five books first. And never the same book two nights in a row,” he tells Castiel with a chuckle. It’s only when Charlie pipes up that Dean even remembers there’s other people there.
“Any time I babysit we have to read half of her bookshelf before she goes to sleep,” she says with a laugh.
“Oh, you two know each other already?” Kelly asks.
“Yeah, Charlie’s the little sister I didn’t know I needed,” Dean tells her, flinging an arm around Charlie and tugging her into a side hug. It’s only because he can’t look away from Castiel’s face that he sees what looks like relief there.
“Well, you’ve both raised wonderful children,” Castiel assures them. “And Dean, I hope to see you here again.” With another handshake, they part, Castiel moving to speak to another group of parents. Shortly afterwards, Emma and Kiki come by asking if they can go to the playground, so Dean and Charlie head out.
****
Dean is back home before he lets himself really think about the librarian. Mr. Novak. Castiel. Part of Dean wants to try and convince himself that there was something mutual about the way Dean feels, but the bigger, more rational part of him says that there was nothing more than professional courtesy.
It doesn’t stop him from asking Lydia to change their arrangement. He claims it’s because he misses Charlie – between taking care of the children, her high-profile tech job, Dean’s volunteering and his hours at the garage, they rarely get a chance to get together. Even if they can’t really talk much during the story, it’s comforting just to sit beside her for a while. He wasn’t kidding when he said he thinks of her as a sister.
Thankfully, Lydia agrees to make the change. “I was dying of boredom by the end of the hour, you’re more than welcome to start taking her,” she’d said. “This is because the librarian is hot, isn’t it?” Lydia had accused. Not able to come up with an argument quickly, Dean admits that it’s at least a part of why he’s going.
“I mean, yeah, Castiel – the librarian,” he clarifies, “is nice to look at, but it’s a children’s event. I’m not exactly looking to pick up. Besides, no one wants to date a single dad who has their kid more than every other weekend.” It’s sad, but true. The few times Dean has tried dating, the women (and one man) he’s been with bail after months or even just weeks. Everyone wants to be priority number one, but that goes to Emma and always will. At least Castiel likes kids he thinks to himself.
A few weeks later, Dean finds himself making Easter decorations for Emma’s kindergarten class. He’d been asked to do it at the last minute and, like an idiot, he’d agreed. His weekend is full, he really doesn’t have time for this. Thankfully Emma was extra tired today, and went to bed early and easily. He just hopes that he’s not too tired and cranky after doing an escape room with Sam and some of his friends to finish these on Sunday afternoon.
The next morning, Dean’s awake before his alarm can go off. He’s already raring to go. Jumping out of bed, he throws on flannel pj pants and a Def Leppard t-shirt, then heads for the kitchen. He starts pulling out the flour, the sugar, a couple of eggs – everything he needs to make pancakes for him and Emma. She’ll be up soon enough, she’s always been an early riser.
Sure enough, ten minutes and eight pancakes later, Emma is standing in the kitchen rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Pamcaketh, Daddy?” she asks excitedly. Hopping up onto her little stool, she peers over to look at the golden circles cooking on the big electric griddle. “Pamcaaaaaketh!” she cries triumphantly. After Lucky Charms, which he tries to limit her intake of, pancakes are Emma’s favorite breakfast food. He lets her ‘help’ by guiding her hand as she dips the ladle into the batter. He takes it from her, putting another spoonful on the griddle.
Emma hums happily in her booster seat while they sit at the kitchen table digging into their breakfasts. Dean only has two pancakes, conscious of his growing midsection. It’s not his looks he cares about, but his ability to chase a kid around – any extra weight is more for his bad knee to carry. They finish, washing the dishes together. He lets Emma wash the forks and spoons, inspecting them before they go in the dish drainer. By the time all the breakfast dishes are washed and in the drainer, it’s nearly time to leave.
April in Kansas can be hit-or-miss for weather, but today is sunny and mild, so they walk to the library. Dean’s regretting it by the time they get there, his limp more pronounced than usual. Still, he powers his way up the stairs, stubbornly refusing the elevator. He’s looking forward to reaching the story area, so he can sit down.
“Dean?” Hearing his name in that voice just does something to him. It’s laced with concern, though, so he turns to see what the issue is.
“Hey, Cas, wha – uh, Castiel,” he corrects before continuing. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just your limp is much more pronounced than it was last week. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He turns earnest blue eyes on Dean, showing that it’s not just the kind of question you ask in passing – Castiel wants a real answer.
“We walked here today, instead of driving. I’m sure after an hour of sitting will have me back to baseline,” Dean tells him. He doesn’t want to get into the sordid details of how he nearly blew his whole leg off while serving overseas. He’d only been in the military for three years at that point – had only just become old enough to drink in the USA. They sent him home with a Purple Heart and a whole host of issues, physical and mental.
“If you’re certain,” Castiel says, though he sounds very uncertain himself. “I just don’t like to see you in pain.” There’s an adorable furrow between his brows that Dean would love to smooth with his thumb, and nope, no not going there. If he weren’t limping so badly, Castiel would never have given Dean a second look. There’s no way a hot librarian is interested in a mechanic who’s also a single dad.
“Yeah, I’m good, scout’s honor,” Dean vows, just as Charlie comes up to them.
“You were never a scout,” she says in an act of absolute betrayal. Dean shoots her a look before turning back to Castiel.
“I really will be okay, cross my heart,” Dean tells him. “Besides, I can just use Charlie for support.” He plops an elbow on Charlie’s shoulder, grinning widely. Charlie glares at him, but doesn’t move to push him off.
“Okay, I believe you,” Castiel says in a voice that says he doesn’t actually believe Dean. Checking his watch, Castiel apologizes for cutting their conversation short.
“Nah, man, all good. This is what we’re here for, right?” Castiel smiles and nods. Dean can’t help but smile back.
“Thank you, Dean. Perhaps I’ll see you after.” Another soft smile and then Castiel is on his way.
The next hour passes in a haze of pain. Despite what he’d told Castiel, his knee is getting worse, not better. He’s dreading the walk back, and wishes he’d thought to bring his pain meds. Or ibuprofen. Or anything that would ease the agony. He’d give his left leg for an ice pack (although giving up his left leg would solve this problem entirely). He’s going to have to sneak out quickly if he wants to avoid letting Castiel see how bad off he really is.
Dean’s not even entirely sure why he’s so concerned with what Castiel thinks. He’s a grown man and if he wants to walk on his busted knee, then that’s what he’s going to do. Or….maybe he’ll ask Charlie for a ride home. That sounds like a good plan.
You know what they say about ‘the best laid plans.’ When storytime is over, Charlie asks Dean if she can take the girls to the mall for a shopping adventure.
“You’re welcome to come, too, Winchester,” she tells him, smirking. “We could get you a pretty dress, some nice lipstick…” She trails off into laughter.
“I think I’m good,” Dean tells her. “I’m just gonna head home and put some ice on this knee of mine.” He reaches down to rub at it, even though he knows it won’t do any good.
“Is your leg still bothering you?” Castiel had snuck up on them, both Dean and Charlie jumping slightly at his appearance.
“Jesus,” Dean swears. “We should put a bell on you.” He holds his hand over his heart while breathing dramatically like he’d been scared half to death. Charlie swats him lightly, and Castiel laughs; a beautiful sound.
“I have been told that I’m rather light on my feet,” he tells Dean. “Now, what about you? You definitely don’t look like you’ll be dancing a two-step any time soon.”
Dean grimaces, not sure how much he wants to give away. “It’s nothing, it just seems the rest didn’t help as much as I had hoped.” He waves it off as if it’s nothing. Castiel’s brow furrows as he considers Dean’s answer.
“I’m only in on Saturdays for reading hour,” he says cautiously. “I could maybe drive you home? Although, I don’t have a car seat,” he finishes with a slight grimace.
“Oh, no worries, I’m taking Emma home with me,” Charlie interjects with a bright smile. “You should definitely take Castiel up on his offer!” she aims at Dean.
“Uh…” Under both of their gazes, Dean freezes, not sure if he has any choice but to agree. “Is it even on your way?” he asks. “We live down on Hunter Street.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to get to know Castiel better, but being enclosed in a car with him isn’t how he expected to do it.
“Oh, I’m just down on Seraphim Court,” Castiel tells him. “You’re right on my route home. It’s no trouble at all for me to take you. Let me save your knee further grief.” He looks so damn earnest, as if he would like nothing more than to chauffeur Dean home because he was stupid enough to walk on his bum knee.
“I…yeah, I mean, I guess?” Charlie glares at him until he gives a better answer. “Yes, thank you, Cas, I would appreciate the ride.” ‘Cas?’ Charlie mouths silently at him where Castiel can’t see. Dean just shrugs. He’s got more important things to think about - like how he’s going to survive even the short ride home with this beautiful man.
Castiel heads to the back office to collect his things while Dean and Charlie round up their monsters children. Charlie is already out the door with the girls when Castiel comes up beside Dean once again. “I’m parked towards the back of the parking lot, do you think you’ll be okay, or would you like me to pull the car up to the doors?”
Normally Dean would be insulted by a question like that, but the thing about it is that Castiel seems so damn sincere. Like he actually cares whether Dean can make it to the back of the lot or if he genuinely needs extra help. Dean appreciates it more than he can say. He considers the question, testing his bad knee by putting some more of his weight on it.
“I should be fine,” Dean tells the librarian, resolutely not thinking about the way Castiel’s chinos had pulled across his thighs while he’d sat reading to the kids. Despite how sexy he looks in his little sweater vest and bow tie, Dean finds himself drawn to Castiel’s eyes again and again. They’re beautiful and blue and Dean wants to drown in them.
About halfway across the parking lot, Dean questions his decision to walk to Castiel’s car. His knee clicks and sends pain zinging up and down his entire leg on each and every step. By the time they’ve reached what is a truly ugly Continental from the 70’s Dean is less concerned with what the car looks like and more concerned with falling into the front seat so he can take the strain off.
The interior of the car matches the exterior – literally. The seats are the same dusty tan color as the outside, the leather is beginning to crack, and there’s probably twenty of those ‘little tree’ air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror. He’s not even sure at this point which one the car is supposed to smell like. If he had to guess he’d say it was the light blue one labeled ‘fresh laundry’. Despite its condition, he has to admit the car does smell nice inside.
Castiel gently sits down on the bench seat, wiggling a little to get comfortable in a way that Dean absolutely does not think is completely adorable. He checks that his mirrors are all correctly positioned, buckles his seatbelt, then starts the car. He maneuvers the large car out of the cramped lot with the ease of someone who’s been driving a boat like this for quite some time. Dean wonders what the story is behind it, but he’s too nervous to ask.
The car ride is blessedly short, and Castiel pulls into Dean’s driveway next to the shitty Volvo that Dean hadn’t bothered pulling into the garage last night. He would cringe at Castiel seeing it, but it’s probably less embarrassing than this pimpmobile Cas drives. When did he start thinking of him as Cas, anyway?
“I appreciate this, man,” Dean says when Cas has put the car into park. “I definitely overestimated myself today.” He shrugs apologetically, moving to open the car door.
“Wait,” Castiel says, placing a hand on Dean’s arm. It gets Dean to pause, looking back over his shoulder expectantly. “Could we…I mean, would you…” Castiel trails off as if he’s talked himself out of whatever he was going to say.
“Would I?” Dean prompts, turning to face Castiel properly. There’s not a lot he wouldn’t do right now if it meant he got to spend more time with Castiel, learning all about him. He watches as Cas takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself for something awful.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
It’s absolutely not what Dean was expecting. A disinvitation to story hour, or maybe a request for Dean to drive going forward, those he would have expected. But this? He feels his mouth drop open as he tries to think of what to say that isn’t an exuberant ‘YES!’, tries not to just kiss Castiel on the lips right now. Eventually he realizes he’s left it so long that Castiel is beginning to look disappointed, possibly anxious. Before he can retract the request, Dean finally speaks. “I would love to, Cas,” he says, completely honest. “Did you have something in mind?”
Nerves flutter in Dean’s stomach as he runs through all of the options in their small town. With a population just under seven thousand, places to go for dates are few and far between. There’s a couple of restaurants, a winery or two, and not much else. Lawrence is nearby, but Dean’s not sure Cas will want to drive that far. He’s quickly proven wrong.
“There’s a diner in Lawrence – the Ladybird Diner – that I was hoping to take you to,” Castiel tells him. “Would that be okay?” The look of apprehension on Castiel’s face is killing Dean.
“That would be more than okay,” Dean assures him. “I love me a good, greasy burger.”
“Me too. They make me very happy,” Cas jokes, now smiling at Dean, all trace of nerves gone. “Is there a day that’s better for you?” Dean shifts in his seat while he thinks, wishing he’d invited Castiel into the house. At least he would have been able to elevate and ice his knee while they talked. Castiel notices.
“Are you alright, Dean?” he asks. “You look uncomfortable.” Worry crosses his face again, but this time for Dean rather than himself.
“I’m not,” Dean tries to reassure. “Well, I mean I am, but not because of anything you’ve done.” He reaches down rubbing at his knee in a vain attempt to ease the pain.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Dean, I didn’t even think!” Castiel’s hands flutter in the air, like he’s trying to decide what to do with them, and whether it’s okay to touch Dean. After a moment of this, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Here, why don’t you give me your number and we can discuss this once you’re in the house and comfortable.”
Dean wants to protest, but despite his earlier wishes, he’s in too much pain to be a good host – or even a good person right now. He’s so glad Charlie has Emma. He hates when she sees him like this. He takes Castiel’s phone, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great, Cas,” he says as he inputs his number, then texts himself so he has Castiel’s number, too.
“Cas?” The question isn’t derisive, just curious. Dean can still feel his cheeks flush. He hates how easily he blushes, and rubs at his cheeks nervously, as if it will make the color go away.
“Yeah, sorry, I just…I tend to do that to people,” Dean explains. “I don’t know why, but everyone gets a nickname. Could be worse,” he says. “Charlie ended up with ‘Chuckles’ as one of her options. He laughs lightly, glad to see that Cas huffs a laugh as well.
“It’s not an issue,” Castiel tells him. “I don’t mind at all.” He smiles at Dean, making him glad he’s sitting down, because his already compromised knees would have gone weak at that beautiful grin. “Now get inside,” he orders, playfully shoving at Dean’s shoulders.
“Sir, yes sir,” Dean answers with a mock salute. “Send me a message as soon as you’re home. I don’t want you texting and driving.” He’s seen the aftermath of too many incidents arrive at the salvage yard to be at all comfortable with phone use on the road.
“I never do,” Cas vows. “Safety first. Now go, I’ll text you the moment I walk through my door,” he promises. With one more glance at Castiel’s face – he can’t seem to keep a smile off of it, it seems – Dean opens the car door, gingerly exiting, testing his knee to ensure it will hold his weight.
“Did you need a hand?” Castiel asks, leaning over towards the passenger side so Dean can hear him.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Dean waves him off as he ducks down to meet Castiel’s gaze. “Besides, the sooner you get home, the sooner we can talk more.” He winks, then stands up and does his best not to limp too badly towards the front door. He doesn’t want to inconvenience Cas any more than he already has. When he reaches the door, he turns around for one last wave as Cas pulls out of Dean’s driveway.
It takes about as long for Castiel to get home and text him as it does for Dean to get an ice pack, a pain pill, and get settled on the couch. He knows the pill will take at least 20 minutes to kick in, but he can’t help hoping it will work sooner this time. He’s grimacing through yet another readjustment when his phone lights up with a notification.
» Home now. I hope you’re resting and taking care of that knee.
Dean snaps a pic of his leg with the ace bandage holding an ice pack on it, sending it to Castiel as proof.
« All good here!
» Good. I was worried about you.
« Nah, don’t do that. Just a bum knee that gives me trouble sometimes. Nothing life-threatening.
» :/
» That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to care for yourself.
Dean contemplates Castiel’s words so long that another text comes through before he can even formulate a reply.
» I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive. I know I don’t know you well, and it’s not my place to be making any demands of you.
« God, Cas, no, you don’t need to apologize
« I’m just not used to people caring.
» Well, I care
» Your wellbeing is important to me.
Dean stares at his phone again, still unsure of what to say. He’s really not used to people caring. During his few brief relationships, Dean has always been the one to dote on his partner, to make sure they have everything they could possibly need or want that was in his power to grant. Rarely has that courtesy been extended back to him. He doesn’t have a roadmap for this.
« Thanks Cas.
« I appreciate that
He contemplates how open he wants to be right now, over text. Deciding he’d rather get all of the sordid details out in person, he moves on to discussing their date.
« It’s going to be a little harder than you’re probably used to for us to pin down a date, just fyi
« I need to line up a sitter for Emma
« So I can’t tell you right now when I’ll be available for sure.
« I have Monday off of work, and Emma will be in preschool, but you’d probably rather go in the evening, yeah?
There’s no response for a minute. Two minutes. Not even those three dots that would tell Dean that Cas is typing. He’s just about to retract everything, tell Castiel that dating is just too difficult, and cut ties immediately – Lydia can go back to taking Emma to the library – when those three little dots finally appear.
» So sorry for the delay.
» I had an Amazon delivery that I didn’t want stolen.
» I would be more than happy to go to lunch with you on Monday.
« Yeah?
Dean’s not sure when he became so insecure. He used to be able to pick up men, women, and everything in between without even thinking about it. Now he’s shaking in his boots at the idea of a single lunch date.
» Yes, Dean. I very much look forward to seeing you again.
» Does 2pm work for you? I know it’s a little late, but I have a morning shift at the library.
Dean immediately pulls up Charlie’s contact, firing off a quick text to ask her if she can pick Emma up from preschool on Monday. Her response is an almost instant ‘Of course,’ before she starts peppering him with questions about what he’ll be doing. Ignoring her for the moment, Dean switches back to his text thread with Cas.
« 2pm on Monday it is
« ☺️
« I can’t wait
He’s trying not to look too eager but the truth is, Dean’s more intrigued by Castiel than he has been by any one person in the last five years. From the moment Lydia informed him she was pregnant, his life has revolved around Emma. It still does, and always will, but it feels good to invite someone else into his orbit.
» Neither can I 🥰
Monday takes far too long to arrive. Dean spends the rest of his weekend on the couch, letting Emma watch as much TV as she wants to so that he can keep his knee elevated. As much as he’d love to get on the floor and play with Emma’s Hot Wheels with her, there’s no way he’d be able to get himself back up afterwards. Emma doesn’t seem to mind – as long as she’s got Bluey, George, and the inhabitants of Puffin Rock, she’s good to go.
After dropping Emma off at the elementary school, Dean heads home to prepare for his date. Because he’s been resting his knee all weekend, he hasn’t really had a chance to figure out what he’s wearing. He’s familiar with the diner they’re going to, so he knows it’s a casual dress code, but he wants to look good for Cas. As a result, he’s currently tearing his entire closet apart, trying to find the perfect outfit.
Eventually he gives up and calls Charlie. He knows it’s her work hours, but she works from home and all her work is computer-oriented. She can absolutely type and talk at the same time. He’s kind of jealous of her for that, actually. Regardless of his envy of her skills, he needs her opinion, badly.
“You’re overthinking this, grasshopper,” she tells him.
“If anyone’s the grasshopper, it’s you,” Dean grumbles. He plops down on the bed, waiting to see what other pearls of wisdom Charlie will drop on him.
“Debatable. But that’s irrelevant to your current crisis. Where is it you’re going?”
Dean tells Charlie the plan to go to the diner for a late lunch, but he promises that he’ll pick Emma up before she has to feed her dinner. Charlie argues that she’s perfectly capable of feeding his child, and encourages him to stay out as long as he wants.
“We’ll see,” Dean says to placate her. “Now what the fuck should I wear?”
Together they settle on dark wash, form fitting jeans and Dean’s hunter green henley. Instead of his usual scuffed work boots, Dean pulls out the rarely worn pair of Doc Marten boots he keeps in the back of the closet. He’d paid more money for them than he ever had for a pair of shoes, and it makes him hesitant to actually wear them. Still, he has to admit that he looks damn good, and the matte black leather of the Docs work far better than his oil and paint stained work boots would have.
He’s dressed and ready far too early, so Dean has to come up with something to do that won’t make him all sweaty and gross. Normally he’d stress-clean the house, but he doesn’t want to get bleach or any other chemicals on his clothes. He throws the TV on, flicking through the channels to land on some cop show. He only has to watch ten minutes of it to know that he doesn’t care what they’re counting down to. He flicks the TV off, and picks up his latest book.
Usually Dean’s able to get engrossed in a story fairly quickly, but he finds himself reading passages over and over again. Nothing he’s read has stuck. He puts the book down in defeat, rubbing a hand down his face and sighing. There’s not much else he can do right now, so he just tips his head back onto the couch, closing his eyes and trying not to freak out any more than he already is.
Thankfully Dean’s the kind of guy who sets a phone alert for everything, because he somehow manages to doze off. The alarm startles him awake, and he’s so grateful he’s already dressed, because he needs to get his ass in gear if he wants to be on time. He tries to look for his keys while also putting his leather jacket on, and ends up shoving his hand in to the inside pocket three times before he manages to get it in the arm hole. His keys appear when he shuffles around some of the mess on the countertop, something he has to work to ignore so that he leaves instead of cleaning.
It’s been a long time since he’s dated anyone, but Dean doesn’t ever remember being this nervous before. His hand shakes as he tries to get the key in the ignition. He has to grip the wheel tightly to get them to stop. Not for the first time he wishes he was in his Baby, not this clunky mom-mobile, wishes Cas could see Dean’s pride and joy (after Emma, of course). Castiel’s car is worse, he reminds himself, relaxing a little at that thought.
The date goes…okay. Dean doesn’t have much going on in his life besides Emma, and his time on the PTA. He’s sure that his main topic of conversation is his daughter. All of his anecdotes feature her, even if it’s something you’d imagine was totally unrelated. He loves Emma and is so, so proud of her, but it would be nice if he could keep up an adult conversation without having to mention her every three seconds. He can’t imagine Castiel is having much fun.
Both men eat their burgers in near-silence, only puncturing it to comment on how good the food is. Dean orders a slice of pie, but Castiel declines dessert. Dean feels like he’s made a mistake – even more so when Castiel stares out the window while Dean takes his first couple of bites. It doesn’t take long for him to regain Castiel’s attention, however, because this is the best apple pie he’s had in his entire life – even better than his mom’s, though he’ll never tell her that. He must make some sort of happy noise, because Castiel’s gaze snaps to Dean’s and there’s something heated there.
At least he knows Cas is still hot for him, even if Dean’s turned Castiel off of dating him entirely. Maybe they can do some sort of friends with benefits situation. He can see them rolling around in his sheets on afternoons that they both have free. It’s not an ideal situation, but Dean’s almost three years into a dry spell, and he won’t turn down a few casual encounters.
Despite the delicious tension that has sparked between them, things are awkward as they take leave of each other. Dean’s not sure if he should kiss Cas, give him a hug, or just shake his hand. In the end, he puts his hand out, pulling Cas into what he can only describe as a ‘bro-hug’, slapping him on the back twice before letting go.
“Thanks for this, Cas. I get time alone when Emma’s at her mom’s, but I rarely get to spend it with another adult. I had a really good time.” Dean looks to the middle distance over Castiel’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. He really wants to get out of here before Castiel tells him that ‘it was lovely, but sorry, you’re too hung up on your kid to be in a relationship’. “I’m gonna take off now, Charlie probably needs some rescuing, but I’ll see you at story hour, I suppose.”
“Oh, okay,” Castiel says evenly. There’s something that could have been disappointment that flashes across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by a flat expression, nothing being given away. “See you at story hour.” Dean turns around and walks faster than is probably polite to his own vehicle, starting it up and pulling out of the parking lot before Castiel has even reached his ugly monstrosity of a car.
The whole twenty minutes back to Eudora, Dean is berating himself for steamrolling Castiel like that. He hadn’t even given the man a chance to let him down gently. He’d just assumed that was coming, and tried to circumvent it. He’s haunted by that look that passed over Castiel’s face before he shut Dean out. Is it possible that Castiel really was interested in Dean, despite his single fatherhood? If he could kick his own ass for his cowardice, he would.
Charlie looks at him weirdly for showing up so early, but she doesn’t press further when Dean tells her that the date – if it was a date – went ‘fine’. He can tell she’s holding back questions, and he appreciates that she’s giving him the time to work this out on his own. As he drives the five minutes from Charlie’s place to his own, Dean can barely process the stories Emma is telling about her playdate with Kiki. His mind is back in Lawrence, replaying the disastrous afternoon.
Lydia isn’t happy about it, but when Dean begs off the next three story hours, claiming the shop has been extra busy, she lets him change the schedule. In truth, Dean sits at home, alone, nursing a ginger ale. He wishes it were a beer, but he stopped drinking as soon as he knew Lydia was pregnant. He didn’t want to be the kind of father to his kid that his dad was to him. He hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in roughly five years.
Dean knows he’s in trouble when Charlie shows up on his doorstep at 9am on Saturday morning instead of Lydia. She’s got Kiki in tow, and a determined look on her face. “What’s with the pajamas, Winchester?” she asks. “We’ve got to leave in like, six minutes.” She taps on the watch on her wrist for emphasis.
“Uh, wha?” Dean replies stupidly. Charlie just pushes her way into the house, Kiki running past her to go see what Emma’s up to. Dean closes the door behind them, trying to catch up.
“Quick, run, get some real pants on!” Charlie demands, not even looking at Dean. Instead she’s keeping an eye on where the two little girls are trying to navigate the Netflix menu, with varying degrees of success. Still not understanding what’s happening, Dean does as he’s told and heads to his bedroom to throw on jeans and a shirt that doesn’t have a chocolate pudding stain over his collarbone. Once he’s back out in the living room, he spreads his arms out and does a twirl for Charlie.
“Do I meet your approval, Your Highness?” he asks before executing a bow in her direction. She just rolls her eyes and calls to the girls that it’s time to go.
“I hope you still have that extra booster seat, because we walked here,” Charlie informs Dean as they head out the door. As soon as he’s locked the door behind them, Charlie steals the keys from his hand and skips down the walkway to the back of Dean’s station wagon. She pops the back hatch, crying out triumphantly when she locates the booster seat Dean keeps back there specifically for this type of situation.
Whatever this type of situation is…
They pull into the parking lot of the library just after nine thirty. Both girls struggle to open the latches that hold them in their seats, eager to get inside. Dean hops out of one side of the car, while Charlie gets out on the other. They help the girls out of their seats, then follow as they run to the library doors.
Dean follows more slowly than Charlie does, not sure of what type of reception he’s going to receive. When he enters the main area of the library, Hannah is once again behind the front desk. She purses her lips at him, but doesn’t say anything. Dean just nods at her, and moves towards the stairs. His knee is better than usual today, and it doesn’t even hurt to walk up them. He figures at least one thing might as well go right today. Dean has a feeling it’s the only thing that will.
They’re later than usual, so Emma and Kiki go right for the semicircle of children that crowd around the plush armchair, grabbing the last of the tiny beanbag chairs and finding a spot to sit. Moments later, Castiel enters the room carrying a handful of children’s books under his arm. He looks out at the children and adults crowding the room, faltering slightly when his eyes meet Dean’s. He looks momentarily panicked before his expression smooths out to something genial, but guarded. He doesn’t look at Dean again.
The children disperse after the last story, Kiki dragging Emma over to ask if they can play at the lego table. Dean and Charlie both agree, staying seated on one of the benches where they can still see the girls. Charlie’s talking away in Dean’s ear, but he doesn’t register a single word. His attention is focused on Castiel making the rounds and talking to the parents. He knows eventually Castiel will reach him and Charlie, and Dean has no idea what he’s going to say.
Seriously considering swooping in to grab Emma and bolting, Dean’s leg bounces – the only indication that he’s anxious. Charlie rests a gentle hand on it and he stops, instead fiddling with the ring he wears – spinning it round and round on his finger, then taking it off and putting it back on again, just to spin it some more. When he glances at Charlie he can tell she wants to grab his hand and stop the fidgeting, too, but Castiel chooses that moment to walk up to them. By the expression on his face, Castiel is just as nervous about this interaction as Dean.
“Hello Charlie. Dean.” Castiel nods to each of them, perfectly cordial. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back as he looks over the duo. “How have you been?” Castiel asks politely. He makes a perfect picture of gracious courtesy, but he won’t meet Dean’s eyes.
“I’ve been great!” Charlie announces. “And he’s been a complete imbecile,” she accuses, pointing at Dean. “Go on, Dean, tell the nice librarian about what a dummy you’ve been the past few weeks.” Dean can feel his cheeks heat, and if it were anyone but Charlie saying this, they’d be in serious trouble right now. He can’t look Castiel in the eye, ducking his head and saying nothing.
“Okay, fine,” Charlie bites out. “I’ll tell him.” She turns to Castiel after smacking Dean in the arm – and not gently. “Dean thinks you don’t like him now. He’s being an absolute dumbaaaaa –” she cuts the word off before finishing it, cognizant of the little ears around them. “An absolute silly head,” she corrects.
“I’m not following,” Castiel says with a slight frown. Dean can’t help but think it’s kind of adorable.
“Dean ran off after your date because he’s gotten it into his head that you were turned off by all his talk of Emma,” Charlie clarifies cheerfully.
“Wow, Charles, don’t hold back.” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at her. He can feel the flush creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks. Mentally, he braces himself for the rejection he knows is coming. At least Castiel will probably be nice about it. It takes the sheer force of his willpower to bring his gaze anywhere near Castiel’s face.
What he sees there is not what he expected. Relief, definitely. Hope…maybe? Either way, he smiles at Dean and it’s like the sun coming out after an eternal night. Castiel briefly tilts his head back, not quite rolling his eyes, and chuckles lightly. “I’m so relieved to know that’s all it was. Truthfully, I’ve spent far too much time lately wondering where I went wrong.”
Castiel’s words are a punch in the gut. Dean doesn’t want him analyzing the date, looking for a mistake he made, when it was Dean who fucked up. He can’t reassure him fast enough. “It definitely wasn’t you, Cas,” he says, finally looking Castiel in the eyes. “I had a wonderful time, and I just…”
“He’s just got it in his head that he can’t have good things,” Charlie finishes for him. Dean jumps a little, having forgotten she was even standing there. Castiel nods knowingly.
“There’s a few other parents I’d like to talk to, but you’re welcome to stay until the end. I’ll need to close up, but we can discuss it more as I do.” Placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder, bleeding warmth through his t-shirt and flannel, Castiel looks Dean in the eye, making sure he holds it. “Good things do happen.” Letting Dean go, Castiel simply turns and heads towards where a small group of parents have gathered.
Dean empties his lungs in one big gust – he hadn’t even known he’d been holding his breath. He lifts his arms away from his sides just to drop them back down again, slapping the outsides of his thighs. “Well, that was, uh. That was…”
“That was hilarious,” Charlie says through her laughter. “You should have seen your face when I called you a dummy.” She tries to mimic it but it just looks like she’s staring off into space. After a moment she breaks down laughing again. When she finally stops, it’s to inform Dean that she’s taking the girls home, and he can come get Emma tomorrow sometime. She holds up a hand when Dean goes to protest. “No sir, you are going to have a good time. Emma is going to borrow some of Kiki’s stuff, and I have an extra toothbrush she can use. Have. Fun.” The last two words are punctuated by her pointy index finger finding its way into Dean’s ribs.
Dean browses through the children’s section while he waits for Castiel to finish mingling with the other parents. He finds several books that he thinks Emma would like, so it’s not a waste of time to do so. He’s just moved to the ‘young adult’ section and is considering grabbing one or two of them for himself. They look a lot better than many of the offerings in the general fiction section. He’s got two books in his hands, trying to decide if he should check them out when he hears footsteps behind him.
“Oh, that one is very good,” he says, pointing to the one with a bright blue eye on the cover, surrounded by black lines of trees or cracks or something he can’t discern, but the summary was compelling enough that Dean was seriously considering it. It’s also the first in a series, so if he likes it, he has lots more to read.
“The books you’ve picked for Emma are excellent as well,” he adds on, nodding to the small stack of picture books sitting on top of the shelf in front of Dean.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says as he puts back one of the YA options, grabbing the book with the eye, and the kid’s books off the shelf. “I just…I really want her to grow up to be a good person – to not have the same misguided ideals that I had as a kid.” The books he’s chosen feature a multitude of genders, ethnicities, and levels of ability. Dean’s trying desperately not to fuck Emma up as much as his dad had to him.
“From what I’ve seen, you’re excelling at that goal,” Castiel says kindly, smiling broadly at Dean. “Emma is a kind, curious, and empathetic child. Anyone would be lucky to have her as a daughter. Now, let’s get you all checked out, and then we can leave.” Dean takes a look around him to discover that everyone else has left; it’s just him and Castiel in the now-closed library.
“Hey, you ever uh, you ever make out with someone in the stacks?” he asks, a sly grin on his face. He’s not seriously expecting Castiel to take him up on it, but seconds later, Castiel has him by the hand, and is dragging him up to the third floor where all the non-fiction and periodicals are. The books get left behind on top of a shelf, and Dean has the fleeting hope that he remembers to grab them on the way out. They’re several rows into the much-taller shelves up here when Castiel lets go of Dean’s hand, pushing him backwards until a shelf digs into Dean’s ass. They’re scant inches apart, and Dean tracks how Castiel keeps looking at his lips.
Not wanting to draw this out any more than he has to, Dean grabs Castiel by the hips, tugging him the short distance between them, and capturing his mouth with Dean’s own. Dean’s not sure whose satisfied moan echoes through the rows and rows of reference books and old newspapers, but it doesn’t matter, as it’s swallowed up when Castiel licks into Dean’s mouth, tongues meeting in a slick slide. He’s not sure how long they spend like this, but when they finally part, both men are breathing hard, and Dean can feel where Castiel has begun to chub up in his pants. Dean can’t judge, he’s in exactly the same position.
“I think Charlie may have had something different in mind,” Castiel says through a laugh. “Perhaps we should get you checked out, and then we can find somewhere for lunch?”
“You can check me out any day,” Dean replies with a sleazy grin. It’s so ridiculous that it has both men laughing. Dean can feel Castiel’s bright laughter where they’re still pressed together, feel the joy that radiates from within him. It takes them a couple of minutes to calm down, but when they do, Dean presses his forehead to Castiel’s, closing his eyes. He’s not sure he can say what he needs to if he can see Castiel’s expression.
“I, uh…I really like you,” Dean admits. “I think I like you so much it scares me. I haven’t had a real romantic relationship since…well, since before Emma was born.”
“You and her mother?” Castiel asks quietly, as if he doesn’t want to break the spell that’s unfolding between them.
“Nah, Lydia was a one-night stand that became a three-night stand, and came to find me four months later to tell me she was pregnant and planned to give the baby up for adoption. I begged her to reconsider, even had to threaten to take her to court for parental rights before she relented.” Dean shakes his head gently. “Emma was nearly three years old before she came back into the picture. I almost told her to just take a hike,” he admits. “But I grew up without a mom, and I didn’t want to do that to my own kid.”
“That was a very nice thing you did,” Castiel tells him. “Not many people would be so forgiving.” He pulls back, waiting for Dean to open his eyes before continuing. “I admire you, Dean Winchester.”
Dean can feel himself blush, dipping his eyes down to the floor while he processes the kind words directed towards him. He’s just looked back up when Castiel goes on. “I really like you, too,” he tells Dean, “and I would really like to see where this could go. Will you give me a chance?”
There’s something vulnerable in Castiel’s eyes, something that begs Dean not to crush his fledgling feelings. Dean wouldn’t dare. He wants to nurture this thing that’s developing between them, wants to watch it grow and flourish. Wants to know what it’s like to be loved by someone like Castiel Novak. “Yes,” he answers simply, and is rewarded by several more minutes of kissing.
“Oh! Oh, dear,” Dean hears from the end of the row, pulling back as far as he can against the shelf to break the kiss. When he looks to his left, Hannah is standing there looking scandalized. He hadn’t realized that they were still in the building. Dean gently pushes Castiel to create a small amount of distance between them. Castiel looks almost haunted, like this is his worst nightmare come true.
“Hannah, I– We– That is–”
“It’s fine Castiel,” Hannah tells him. They’ve got a small, satisfied smile on their face. “I’m just happy that you’ve found someone. But maybe you should take this somewhere else?” They laugh gently when Castiel blushes a deep red. Dean, personally, thinks it’s adorable.
“Yes, of course, Hannah. We were just leaving,” Castiel babbles, looking for all the world like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It just makes Dean’s smile wider. He finds himself feeling lucky that such a smart, well put together, complete dork likes him back.
“Don’t worry about locking up, I’ll take care of it,” Hannah assures them. “Just don’t forget the books you left out downstairs. I’m not going to be the one who has to reshelve them if you do forget. I’ll leave them for you to find on Monday,” they say, chuckling lightly.
“Right,” Castiel says absently, still looking somewhat shellshocked. “Right, for sure, we will. Thank you, Hannah.”
Taking that as their cue to leave, Hannah turns and walks out of sight around the corner of the tall shelving units. They can’t have gone far before Dean starts laughing, but he can’t hold it in anymore. It’s been at least two decades since he was chastised by a librarian for making out in the back stacks. Castiel looks at him like he’s a lunatic, but it doesn’t take long for him to join in.
Less than an hour later, they’re back outside of the diner where they’d had their first date, where they had enjoyed themselves until it ended disastrously. They had both agreed that they wanted a near complete do-over. The conversation is just as easy as it was last time, and if anything, they’re having more fun than before. This time, when their meal has ended, Dean walks Castiel to his ridiculous car, pressing him against the door to steal a handful of kisses.
“I know I probably shouldn’t monopolize your whole day,” Dean says, one hand on Castiel’s hip and the other wrapped around the back of his neck, “but I really, really want to get you naked.”
“I would be amenable to that,” Castiel replies, moving to nuzzle into the side of Dean’s neck. Dean tilts his head back to give him better access.
“Yours, or–” He’s interrupted when Castiel bites his earlobe gently. “Yours or mine,” he manages to get out finally. “Charlie – ah – Charlie plans on keeping Emma overnight.”
“There’s nothing I would like more than to see you writhing beneath me in my bed,” Castiel growls in Dean’s ear. He pulls back, looking very reluctant to do so. “Do you want to leave your car here all night or should you follow me there?
“All night, huh?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. He could get used to this version of the usually reserved librarian.
“Even that won’t be long enough for all the things I want to do to you,” Castiel informs him.
“Do you promise?” Dean asks, wanting to believe that he and Castiel really are on the same page.
“Cross my heart.”