Work Text:
Dean glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. It was crumpled from a recent fit of incessant folding and unfolding, spurred on by a strange kind of reluctance he couldn't quite understand. Usually, he wouldn't think twice about adding a hot chick's number into his contacts. And yeah, Beth was hot - a little on the loopy side, but feisty and sharp. Just his type. She sorta reminded him of Jo, mixed with a dash of Charlie's quirky intelligence. It filled him with a bittersweet kind of happiness, like he'd had the chance to meet them both all over again. He wondered if maybe that was the reason behind his weird mood, but deep down, he knew that was bullshit. There was more to this whole thing than he cared to admit, but hell if he could work it out.
Frustrated, he grabbed the number and marched off to get a beer. Sammy had already retired for the night, grumbling about a case a couple hours' drive away that he wanted to check out tomorrow. Dean had no intentions of leaving the bunker anytime soon. Maybe he could take advantage of the alone time and finally catch up on some good ol' Netflix while Sam was away. He allowed the idea to calm him for a while, imagining himself sprawled out across his bed with a few beers and a packet of pork rinds to keep him company.
Ah, pork rinds… The salty snack always reminded him of Cas. The poor guy had been gutted when his mojo had returned and everything had started tasting like molecules again. He could sympathise. When he'd been a demon, eating had never been a necessity. He'd still done it - out of boredom, or some misguided attempt to cling onto his humanity; he wasn't sure which - but it never satisfied him the same way. A life without food seemed like a very, very dark place. The mere thought made him shudder, and he quickly searched through the cupboards for something to munch on to ease his stress. While he chewed on a handful of cashew nuts (he'd found them in Sam's health-freak stash), he wondered if there was some angel cook book out there, like the ones you can buy for dogs and stuff. He could just picture the gummy smile on Cas' face if he found a recipe for angel-friendly pork rinds. He grinned around his mouthful and slumped back against the kitchen counter, the image of Cas in an apron and chef's hat playing in his mind.
Just as he was about to grab some beers and head off to bed, his phone started buzzing in his back pocket. He fished it out with a sigh, expecting it to be a follow-up on a case or something. He was pleasantly surprised to see Cas' name glowing on his screen though, prompting him to answer the call immediately.
"Ah! Speak of the devil," He smirked as he made himself comfortable against the counter again.
There was a moment's pause, then Cas started to speak. "Well, we haven't quite located him yet. He did have Rowena captive, but she managed to weaken his vessel and banish him for now, so -"
"No, you idiot," Dean snorted into the back of his hand, mindful not to wake Sammy. "I meant - You know what? It doesn't matter… How it's goin', buddy?"
"Fine," Cas said, but his voice sounded tired. "Working with Crowley is… Well, I'm sure you can imagine."
"Oh, trust me. I know."
"I didn't think it possible for someone to be so infuriating," Cas whined, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the childish noise coming from an angel of the lord.
"Hey. You just gotta be the bigger man, ya know? Don't let him get to you."
Cas sighed deeply, the sound crackling through the phone. "I suppose he could come in handy at some point. I just wish I didn't have to resort to such measures, especially after last time. I feel like I'm making the same mistakes all over again."
Dean winced at the memory of Cas teaming up with the king of hell all those years ago. The betrayal still stung, like it had only happened yesterday, but the last thing he wanted to do was make Cas feel more guilty than he already did, so he shrugged it off. He'd forgiven the guy a long time ago, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. It's not like his own history was squeaky clean for a start.
"Things are different now," He reassured him. "Me and Sammy… We've got your back, man. And Crowley's an ass, but he's not as bad as he used to be."
"I still have the desire to throttle him."
Dean laughed, switching the phone into his left hand as he reached into the fridge for a beer. "Yeah, well… Try to refrain from doin' that, okay?"
"I'll try."
"Atta boy," He took a long swig from the bottle, smirking as he imagined Cas rolling his eyes in that familiar, pissed-off-angel kind of way. He was 99.9% positive he'd learnt that from Sam.
"And how are you, Dean?"
The question startled him out of his thoughts. It still caught him by surprise, how much Cas genuinely cared about his well-being. He had half a mind to brush it off, tell Cas to drop it, but he couldn't deny the warm fluttering in his stomach every time the angel checked in to see if he was okay. It wasn't a parental kind of concern; it was different to the way Dean talked to Sam, or Mary (for the short time she'd hung around, anyway). It was like they were equals. Cas never made a big fuss about it, knowing how much it bothered Dean, but he never failed to ask the question... Just in case.
How are you?
"I'm good," Dean said, though the lie felt heavy on his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm okay, Cas. No need to worry."
"I can't help it. Ever since your mother left… Well, you've been different."
Dean scoffed. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."
"There's no need to apologise, Dean. I just - I don't want you to do anything stupid."
"I won't, alright? I'm keepin' it together. For Sammy's sake."
"I'm not saying you should bottle your emotions."
"Well, it seems to do the trick."
"Dean," Cas all but growled, which was admittedly kinda hot. And he was probably going to hell (again) for thinking that about an angel - not to mention his best friend who was practically like a brother to him - but oh well. A guy's entitled to some less-than-innocent thoughts now and again.
"Hey. I said I'm good, didn't I? Just leave it at that, will ya?"
There was a drawn out silence, then the muffled sound of moving fabric, followed by the rumble of Cas' voice against his ear again. "I'm coming back."
"What? No. No, Cas. I don't need -"
"What you need is support," Cas cut him off sharply. "You and Sam are grieving in different ways, Dean. You can't possibly bear the weight of her loss for the both of you. Please, just - just let me help."
Dean faltered for a second, his grip tightening around the phone. He didn't deserve this kind of love or support, not from Cas of all people. All he did was give the poor guy shit. He treated him like a thing - a tool - all because he was too scared of letting someone in. And, yeah. He was well aware of how pathetic that was. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he asked Cas to stay forever, he would do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn't lump that on him. It just wouldn't be fair. I mean, who the hell would wanna be stuck with a miserable sucker like him for the rest of their life? No… Cas deserved better. He deserved to go back to heaven, with all the other halos, and be happy again. To leave this dump behind once and for all.
"I… I don't need your help, okay?"
Cas sighed. "Don't lie to me, Dean. I can sense your longing."
"Oh, so you're readin' my thoughts again?"
"Longing is different to thinking. It's unconscious. Something you can't control, or even detect. I don't choose to sense it, no more than you choose to feel it."
Dean slammed his bottle against the counter, heart beating furiously. He hated being exposed like this. He wanted to curl up and cover himself, hide his emotions from sight. It wasn't fair that Cas was an angel with freaky mind-reading powers. I mean, wasn't he allowed to think or feel without some asshat listening in?
"Yeah, well," He cleared his throat. "What makes you think I'm longin' for you, huh?"
Cas sighed deeply, the noise tingling against Dean's ear. "I can feel it... tugging at my grace. It's like you're reaching out to me."
Dean wasn't prepared for a deep conversation about feelings, so he snorted like the manly-man he was and took another swig of beer. Cas could think whatever the hell he liked. If it made him feel good to think that Dean was reaching out to him with his soul or something, then so be it. Why rain on the guy's parade? And if Cas wanted to come all the way back to the bunker, to satisfy some weird obligation he felt towards him, then what would be the sense in stopping him? He wasn't gonna say no to a drinking partner. He could soak up the company for a couple of hours, and then let Cas go again. He knew the angel wouldn't get back to hunting Lucifer until he was sure he and Sammy were both okay. Cas was good like that.
"Okay, fine," He scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated about roping Cas into his shit again. "Get your ass over here. I'll set up a movie or something…"
"That sounds nice," Cas replied softly, and Dean swore he could practically hear the smile in his voice.
"Right. I'll see you soon -"
"Wait," Cas butted in before Dean could hang up. "I just… I wanted you to know how much... Well, how much I admire you, Dean. You're doing the best you can. You're a great man. I wish you could see that."
Dean opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly interrupted by a long beep on the other end, signalling the end of the call. Cas had hung up on him. That was weird. And after saying all the gooey stuff? Maybe the guy was embarrassed, who knows? It made him smile, thinking that Cas had gotten bashful over a compliment, like a school girl with a crush.
As if he'd have a crush on you, for Christ's sake…
He stared down at the phone for a moment, wondering if he should call back. But Cas could be driving, and he didn't want to put him in danger (even though he spoke on the phone while driving all too often himself). After a moment of just standing there, Dean drained the last of his beer and grabbed two more from the fridge. He knew Cas didn't have to drink, but the angel had once told him how he liked being offered anyway. It made him feel included or something.
Back in his room, he found the cheesiest action movie he could find (something with a big bald guy running from an explosion on the cover). He imagined he'd be asleep soon anyway. Cas would probably sit with him until the movie finished, then he'd slip away like he always did. If only he'd stay a little longer this time… But, no. That wouldn't be fair to ask of him. Cas had better things to do with his time.
Just as he was slipping into a pair of soft flannel bottoms, his phone chimed with a text alert. It was from Cas apparently. He opened it hesitantly, half expecting a message to say he couldn't make it for some reason.
Hello, Dean - it read - They're selling pie at the gas stop. Would you prefer apple or cherry?
His heart did a little flip-flop in his chest, like something out of a godawful rom-com. He couldn't help but grin as he hurried to reply.
Why not both?
He slipped the phone back into his jacket, then paused, his fingers brushing against something small at the bottom of his pocket. He pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper he'd now folded and unfolded far too many times in the past hour. Beth's number was still there when he opened it up again, the numbers all delicate and curvy in the way girls used to write in high school. He sucked in a breath as he read the number over and over again, but none of it really sank in. What the hell was wrong with him?
His phone chimed a second time. He reached for it quickly, thankful for the distraction. It was Cas again.
I bought three. They had pecan as well.
Dean smiled like an idiot, trying to picture Cas heading back to his truck with an armful of pie. As much as he was opposed to the undeserved attention he was receiving, he couldn't deny how adorable it was. Plus, Cas was bringing him pie. Three pies, to be precise! How the hell could he not smile?
But then his eyes drifted back to the piece of paper, and his smile faded away. It was suddenly so obvious why he couldn't put Beth's number into his phone - or any girl's number, in fact. He wasn't proud of it, but what can you do? Like Cas said, it's not as if he chose to feel this way. He'd give anything to go back to his old ways of womanizing, when picking up girls and having a good time felt like second nature. But that was a thing of the past now. So, in other words, he was royally fucked… And oh, if it wasn't the best feeling in the world.
Without a second thought, he scrunched up the paper and tossed it into the bin. Beth was a nice girl, but there was no point in leading her on. Because, whether he liked it or not, it would seem he was already taken.