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Dean's fork makes a squishing noise as it moves through the pasta in his bowl. He's done more of that than actually eating since Castiel sat down and worry is starting to gnaw at Castiel's stomach.
When he can't take the empty air between them any longer, he says, “This pasta is excellent, Dean.”
“Thanks, Cas. I used zucchini from the garden,” Dean answers with an attempt at a smile that does the opposite of soothing Castiel's nerves.“Must be all your hard work.”
“Speaking of the garden, would you like to visit the garden center after work tomorrow?” Maybe an errand just the two of them will help; Castiel has been meaning to buy more fertilizer anyway.
“Can't tomorrow. I told Bobby I'd stay late to work on this truck that came in last week.”
Castiel has to focus on not letting his face fall as he hums in acknowledgement. He doesn't say anything; he doesn't know what to say. He just wants things back to normal.
* * *
The next day, Castiel's phone rings ten minutes after Dean usually gets home. The screen reads [Singer Auto] and nerves flutter in his stomach. He can't imagine why Dean would be calling from the shop phone but he's got even less idea why anyone else would be calling.
“Hello?” Castiel answers, unable to shake the feeling of dread hanging over this call.
“Hey, Cas,” Bobby's gruff voice surprises him as it comes through the phone speaker. “Is Dean home yet? He's not answering his phone and he took a set of keys home with him.”
Castiel's stomach drops like a lead weight. Dean said he would be at the shop working. If Bobby is looking for him…
It takes Castiel a moment to fish his voice out of the labyrinth of his ribs. “No, he's not home. When did he leave?”
Bobby's answer has Castiel's world crashing around his ears,“Four like usual.”
Castiel wants to throw his phone.
Hot tears sting his eyes and he quickly blinks them away.
Dean lied to him. It's not the first time, but it's the first in a long time. It hurts worse than he remembers.
“I'll let him know you called, Bobby,” Castiel assures him partly because he doesn't know what else to say. This isn't Bobby's fault after all.
* * *
When Dean pushes the front door open, Castiel still doesn't have the words. Betrayal is a hot coal behind his ribs, burning through his chest. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there's only so many options when your boyfriend lies about working late. A disturbing number of them involve infidelity of one form or another and the urge to start crying runs him through like a sword.
He opens his mouth, needing to say something, but when he catches sight of Dean's face, his mouth snaps shut.
Castiel has been dating Dean for three years now and best friends and roommates for a decade before that. He's seen Dean Winchester after nearly every sort of sexual encounter imaginable, but Dean has never looked like this. He can cross that off the list at least.
Dean is pale, his hair wrecked like it usually is after a day of sweating under cars. His expression is drawn tighter than a drum and Castiel's anger is all but forgotten as he pushes off the couch, worry churning his stomach.
“Dean!”
Dean looks at him like he's surprised to see him there. He waves his hand, clearly gesturing Castiel to sit back down so he awkwardly sinks back onto the cushion.
“Are you alright?” Castiel presses. He needs Dean to be alright.
Dean doesn't answer. He still hasn't said a word. Castiel knows Dean has a tendency to go silent when stressed and he clings to that like a life raft in an anxious ocean.
Dean beelines straight for the middle cushion, dropping onto it and laying down to make a pillow out of Castiel's thighs. He stretches out, face up, and lets his eyes fall closed.
Castiel settles one hand on the side of Dean's ribcage, feeling his lungs move his chest in too shallow breaths, and tangles the other in his hair.
He starts a steady rhythm of his thumb stroking back and forth, and they sit in silence for minutes until he can feel Dean's breathing even out.
Dean sighs, soft and content in Castiel's hold, and the talons of worry start to ease out of his chest.
“Are you alright?” Castiel asks again, quieter this time.
Dean cracks one green eye open, giving Castiel a serene little smile that sends his heart fluttering in his chest. “Better now.”
“What happened?”
And why did you lie to me? doesn't make it past his lips. He can't make himself poke that bear, not when Dean has finally settled. Maybe that's stupid or naive of him, but he can't help it. He loves Dean.
“Just a really tough day. I missed you.”
* * *
Hours later, in the dead of night, Castiel is tucked under the comforter, Dean sprawled across his chest. One of Dean's arms is slung over his torso, holding him close, and the other hand is buried in Castiel's hair just how Castiel likes. He almost wants to shake his head at how foolish he'd been. Dean wouldn’t cheat on him. He wouldn't hurt him like that. He tightens his arm around Dean's waist. Never.
* * *
Months pass without another incident and life goes on. Dean is still acting strange, but Castiel hasn't caught him in another lie like the last time. Something in his brain tells him he should be trying harder to punch holes in Dean's stories,but he can't bring himself to disturb the peace between them. They've had enough turmoil to last several lifetimes.
Fresh from the shower, Castiel shuffles around the kitchen in the old trench coat he's started wearing as a robe. It's past its prime for outdoor use, but he likes the look in Dean's eyes when he wears it.
It's a well practiced morning routine to pour their coffees, his with whatever new flavored creamer Dean found at the store, today's is caramel fudge cookie, and Dean's with a little sugar slipped in that he won't admit he likes. It doesn't matter, Castiel can always tell.
When he makes it back to their room, Dean is sprawled face down across the mattress, blankets pooling on his thighs. Castiel's heart catches at the sight, at the sheer gratitude he feels to have this after so many years of thinking he couldn't.
He sets the mugs on the bedside table with a dull thunk, watching as Dean startles awake. When his eyes land on Castiel, he relaxes into the memory foam mattress. His voice is rough like gravel when he says, “Mornin’, sunshine.”
The pet name feels accurate; the warm feeling settled in his chest glows as bright and happy as the summer sun. He's smiling when he answers, “Hello, Dean.”
Dean rolls onto his back, making room for Castiel, so he pulls the makeshift robe off and hangs it next to Dean's.
“I don' understand—” Dean starts only to be cut off with a yawn as Castiel climbs onto the mattress to sit next to him. He'd complain if Castiel pointed it out, but Dean is adorable when he's just waking up. “—why you go runnin’ at the ass crack of dawn.”
“I like running,” Castiel points out, picking up his mug and taking a sip before he tips his head back against the headboard. “Besides, it's very healthy.”
He doesn't need to look down to know Dean is rolling his eyes, he can hear it in his voice, “Alright, Dr. Oz.”
He takes back thinking his boyfriend is cute. He's actually the most insufferable person Castiel has ever met. “Dean, you know that he is not a reputable source for any medical advice as I’ve explained multiple times. Comparing me to him is more of an—”
Castiel is interrupted by Dean's delighted laughter, and the rest of his rant dies in his throat when he looks down at him.
Castiel huffs in false annoyance when he realizes Dean has baited him into a trap and he fell for it. It's hard to feel anything less than fond when Dean looks so content next to him. “You just think you're hilarious.”
“I think I'm adorable,” Dean answers, his face still stretched in a grin.
“Well, you're right about that at least,” Castiel points out, and the blush that flares on Dean's cheeks is worth his whole damn salary.
Dean doesn't answer in words just tips his forehead against the side of Castiel's thigh.
Castiel sets his mug aside, and shimmies down the bed so they can lay face to face.
“You know, I never understood the appeal—” Castiel starts, smiling when Dean’s hand cradles his face, “—of wasting an entire day in bed with someone. Not until I met you.”
Dean grins then, light and teasing and Castiel loves him so much. “That so, sweetheart?”
Castiel hums in agreement as he leans in for a kiss and gets one. “Perhaps I could use a refresher.”
Dean lets out a heavy sign as though he's been to trek the Sahara desert. “As awesome as that sounds, I have to meet Sammy in less than two hours for ring shopping. He wants to pop the question next weekend.”
Castiel can feel his expression scrunch in disappointment at the news.
“That’s cute, Cas,” Dean murmurs, tapping a finger to Castiel's nose that makes his face scrunch even more.
“What is?”
“That little squint you do when we absolutely don't have time for a morning quickie.”
As it turns out, they do have time. And if Dean leaves 15 minutes late, Sam never needs to know the reason why.
* * *
Weekends are never the same when Dean isn't home. The house is just too quiet, even moreso than a regular day off. Days like these, he really wishes they had a cat.
Of course, Dean's cat allergy makes that impossible and Castiel is usually very good at not letting himself feel too lonely in a situation he can do nothing about. Today is not like usual.
He's barely gotten the bed stripped and sheets spinning in the washer before his skin is itching for him to do something. A trip to the coffee shop nearby promises both an outlet for his anxious energy and the opportunity to see people other than his own face in the mirror.
The walk there is sunny and lovely if uneventful, but entering the coffee shop is anything but. He pushes through the glass door and narrowly avoids colliding with a too familiar towering frame.
“Hey, Cas,” Sam greets him, smiling far too happily for the fact that his very presence might as well be the end of Castiel's world.
Castiel is gonna be sick.
“Hello, Sam.” It's a fight to keep his voice even, to not let his face show how much this hurts. “I hope you're having a good weekend.”
“Definitely. I'm meeting Dean in a little while, but you probably knew that. I still can't decide if I'm more excited or nervous about the whole thing.”
“I’m sure it'll be fine, Sam. Congratulations in advance.”
“Thanks, Cas. I better get going, I've gotta make a stop on the way.”
“Good luck, Sam.”
He watches Sam go, walking out into the bright summer sun, and suddenly the thought of swallowing anything at all turns his stomach. He pushes right back through the door into the parking lot.
* * *
When Dean comes home from his day with Sam, he barely makes it through the door before he's telling Castiel story after story about his brother. He's animated with excitement, the joy spilling over into every word. Any other time he would be bursting at the seams to see Dean so happy, but he just feels hollow. He's reminded of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz (Dean had insisted it was a “classic”) and he feels a sick sort of irony that they are in Kansas for this.
Castiel says nothing about seeing Sam. It feels pointless, hopeless in a way he hasn't felt since his new roommate introduced himself as Dean Winchester. He nods at the right times and smiles when he should and tries to pretend he's not watching a train wreck in slow motion, pretends his heart isn't tied to the tracks.
* * *
Castiel never celebrated his birthday before he met Dean and as he stares at Dean's “gift”, he wishes he never started.
Dean had guided him to the couch, excitement rippling off him in waves as he told Castiel to shut his eyes.
When Castiel had opened his eyes, he found Dean holding a little black cat and wearing a smile he wanted to punch off his face.
After six months of lying, Dean has gotten him a cat he can never cohabitate with. Obviously, Dean expects one of them to be leaving sooner rather than later.
His pulse is pounding in his ears so loudly that it drowns out whatever Dean says, but Castiel can see his lips move. Emotions writhe in him like a pit of snakes, fangs and venom and all.
Castiel latches onto the threads of anger, rather than let himself break down. There will be time for that later.
“Dean Winchester, you are unbelievable,” Castiel spits, and it's not nearly as satisfying as he expected to watch Dean’s bright smile slide off his face. “I thought you couldn't do worse than the year you thought pornographic magazines were a good gift—” Dean's cheeks glow pink even through his confused expression, “—but you continue to outdo expectations.”
“Cas, I thought—”
Castiel doesn't even let him finish because how dare he say he thought about this. He certainly wasn't thinking about Castiel's feelings. “You thought what? That you could make up for the last six months you've been cheating on me with a present I can't even keep because you're allergic? Unless you weren't planning to stick around after today.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Cas, slow down. You don't— It's not what you think.”
“I may be inexperienced, but I'm not an idiot. Even I know what sneaking around behind my back and lying to me means.”
Dean's voice comes out loud and the cat leaps out of his arms to the ground, but Castiel barely registers the movement. “I was seeing a doctor!”
The runaway train of Castiel's anger hits the side of a mountain and he feels every Newton of the impact. Doctors mean sickness. Six months of doctors…
The anger bleeds out of him like a wound. “What?”
“Not a—,” Dean pauses with a huff of frustration, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I was going to an allergy doctor. For the cat allergy. I didn't want to get your hopes up ‘cause they don't always work.”
“You… What‽”
Castiel's head is spinning worse than the time Dean challenged him to a shot contest then switched half of his own for water. Smelling rum makes him queasy to this day.
“I wouldn't— God, Cas, I would never cheat on you. I wasn't—,” Dean pauses to swallow hard, his Adam’s apple working with it, “I'm so sorry I lied to you, man.”
Castiel feels stupid as his brain struggles to process the words. He can feel his cheeks heat even as hope tugs at his ribs.
“Allergy shots?” Castiel finally manages.
“Yeah. I had to stay for like an hour of monitoring ‘cause I passed out a couple times. Y’know, me and needles.”
His boyfriend may be the dumbest person on Earth some times, but even his worst decisions are made out of love. And Castiel loves him for it.
Castiel grabs Dean's face and yanks him in for a collision of lips and tongues and teeth because he can't get close enough to this insane, infuriating man.
“You're an idiot,” he growls against Dean's lips when they have to break the kiss to breathe. “And I love you.”
“Love you too, Cas.” Dean presses his forehead to Castiel's with a smile he can feel more than see. “And happy birthday.”