Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For being one of the premier writers of his generation, Castiel Novak certainly knew how to put his foot in his mouth.

On the page, he could make his characters say whatever he wanted, he always could find the exact turn of phrase to heighten the drama, or the best way to ease misunderstandings. Paper was easy - the words always went where he wanted them to go. The characters easily understood each other and whatever tensions arose for narrative purposes were readily resolved with no lasting consequences.

In reality, Castiel did not possess the fluid felicity of wit that he imbued his characters with. If not for the persistence of his beloved boyfriend, Dean Winchester, Castiel probably would be the embodiment of reclusive author, somewhere along the lines of Sallinger. The young author did not like people looking at him; he did not like feeling all eyes on him, all ears turning toward him to hear whatever pearls of wisdom he was going to spew. It only stood to reason that someone who could write such lyrically beautiful and confident prose also would be able to speak effortlessly.

For those who first met Castiel, opinions were mixed. Some would consider the twenty-something author as socially awkward. Others would say he was downright rude and brutally blunt and honest. To his boyfriend, Dean would normally would just roll his eyes in fond exasperation and say that Castiel was adorably inept.

Those who knew Castiel best, knew about his little idiosyncrasies and typically didn’t take offense at whatever he might blurt out. His brother, Gabriel, often said that if people could laugh at the crazy shit that Sheldon Cooper said on The Big Bang Theory then they could laugh along with whatever Cas blurted out.

Even though his loved ones generally accepted him, there were times that Castiel went too far. If he was working on a new book or stressing about a promotional tour, the author’s verbal filter became non-existent and there was no telling what he would say. It usually was in these times that he made the biggest jackass out of himself. Often he would be able to quickly apologize and there would be no harm, no foul. Other times his barbs jabbed too deep and caused lingering, long-lasting pain to his loved ones.

Castiel’s problems started when the time came for him to promote his latest novel. Although he loved writing, Castiel hated having to perform in what he dubbed the “dog and pony show” and be trotted out to all the talk shows and travel to book lectures. He liked writing because he enjoyed losing himself in his own head, inhabiting new personas and traveling to places he may never see in real life. These types of situations involved talking to people, which never had been Castiel’s strongest suit.

The problems started at a rather innocuous event. Castiel’s agent, Balthazar, arranged an informal press junket to herald Cas’ latest novel and announce that his Angel on High, the novel that thrust Castiel Novak into prominence, had been optioned as a major motion picture. During this event there would be several print media reporters and one television reporter from Everything Entertainment.

Typically Cas loathed these functions. He was an introvert, the only thing extroverted about him was his characters; they lived their lives in ways he wished he was brave enough to do. Ways his boyfriend was brave enough to do as a police officer in Palo Alto, California.

Usually at these functions, Bathazar would do most of the talking and Castiel would be able to get by with a nod or a seemingly casual (though highly planned and carefully worded) bon-mot here and there, making him seem thoughtful, witty, and mysterious. Television reporters typically loved him in these instances because they said he was so handsome and filmed so nicely with his deep-chocolate brown hair nad his sapphire blue eyes. Comments about his physical appearance only caused the young author to blush scarlet and duck away before his discomfort became even more apparent. Cas missed Dean.

Dean was one of his shields at these functions - gorgeous, garrulous Dean who would smile charmingly at everyone, mirth sparkling from his emerald green eyes. Dean was used to dealing with a wide variety of people through his job. He never knew where he was going to get called to, or who he would meet, so the sergeant made sure he was able to speak confidently with everyone he met. It was a talent that Castiel envied, and tried to mimic through his characters. Whether Dean knew it or not, he was the inspiration and muse for many of Cas’ best creations.

Dean couldn’t attend this function, however. He was working a series of brutal twelve-hour shifts so he and Castiel could have a much deserved vacation together. They were going to be celebrating their fifth dating anniversary soon, and Dean wanted to whisk Castiel away on a romantic trip; but, to do so, he needed to save money and build up some time off. Cas argued that he was more than able to afford any vacation Dean would desire, but the younger man would not hear of it. Dean didn’t want anyone misconstruing their relationship to think he was using Cas for his money. Dean was adamant he was going to pay his own way, and was going to be able to buy things for his boyfriend - this trip was just an example.

So, with Dean unable to attend that left Castiel alone with Balthazar, which was obviously a recipe for disaster.

“Jesus Cassie,” Balthazar groaned, “you look like you are going to the gallows rather than going out to talk with some very friendly press corps members. They are just waiting to praise your literary genius and stamina.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the agent’s not-so-subtle double entendre. “Can’t you just give them the general details and let me smile and nod and get the hell out of here before I embarrass myself by passing out, or vomiting on someone,” the young author replied, looking rather green, which didn’t contrast well with the deep set blue of his eyes.

“Here,” Balthazar sighed, annoyance lacing his every word and gesture. “Drink this. It will loosen you up a little before facing the wolves.”

“Really not helping, Balth,” Castiel retorted wearily.

He accepted the rich amber-colored liquid from his agent and knocked it back in one large gulp. The fiery liquid scorched his throat and made him sputter and gasp as though he had drunk lighter fluid instead of top shelf whiskey.

“What the hell was that?” Castiel choked out, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.

“The best whiskey you can buy,” the blond-haired agent replied cockily. “Strong enough to loosen the vice grip you have on that stick up your ass. You should be thanking me.”

Castiel didn’t feel grateful necessarily, but he did feel some of the tension he had been holding start to dissipate as the strong alcohol began to take effect. He began to ease into the feeling and gained some confidence that he could do this without a problem. He wrote for a living. Words were kind of his thing; talking to these few reporters should be no problem.

Castiel should never be given alcohol. He also never should be given exceptionally strong alcohol before he is interviewed by television journalists. Yet, here he sits as Bela Talbot, an ambitious up-and-coming British telejournalist peppered him with questions. Most were fairly standard, “What is your inspiration?” “What do you think fans will think of this latest novel?” “Are you excited to see you characters take life on the big screen?” “Do you think the film adaptation of your novel will be the next Harry Potter?”

As the interview progress, the alcohol’s warming effects were spreading, making the author more comfortable than usual. The alcohol ebbed away a large chunk of his inhibitions and he found himself divulging more information to the young reporter than he normally would. Words and ideas were escaping from his mouth without his consent and he didn’t know how to rein them back in; and, after a while, he didn’t know if he wanted to stop.

As a young woman determined to make her mark in the industry, Bela had gained the reputation as a shark, and sharks were keenly able to scent weakness in their prey. Bela knew that her guest was answering questions more freely than usual, and she was biding her time with the mundane questions, lulling Castiel into a false sense of security before she attacked.

Some phrases can’t be erased. Some words can’t be deleted. Relationships aren’t as black and white as they are in the world of novels; he can’t go back and edit dialogue to find a better word choice, or to make a scene play out differently, although he wishes he could. As Bela baited Castiel with increasingly scintillating queries and observations, he found himself answering when his better judgment was screaming from the distance to stop.

“So, Castiel,” Bela practically purred, “there is a rumor that Michael Milton is interested in playing the role of Hunter in the film adaptation of your novel. He said he only would consider the part if you would agree to meet him face to face, what are your thoughts on that?”

Michael Milton was tall, dark, and handsome, the very epitome of old-world Hollywood movie star, with a modern-era edge. He walked the razor’s edge between bad boy and golden boy. He was the type of actor that women wanted to throw themselves at and men wished they could be. Castiel never heard the warning bells clanging in his own head, dampened as they were by the alcohol, and he uttered the worst sentence of his life:

“If he wants to get together, I would be most amenable to that. I would definitely be on board with some quality time.”

Bela smiled ferally. She scented the blood in the water and wanted to further the salacious revelations.

“So, does that mean you would be open to a more intimate working relationship with Michael?” she asked, hoping her prey was ripe for the kill.

“I would tap that without a second thought,” Castiel answered, characteristically blunt and without thinking through his response.

“Even though you are in a committed relationship?” she prodded.

“I think everyone deserves to have a pass or two, especially a celebrity pass, I think this would be the one that I would call in,” Castiel responded, not realizing what he had said, and where.

Distantly, Castiel registers Balthazar trying to stem his verbal diarrhea, but Cas’ alcohol-clouded brain couldn’t understand why. Balth usually encouraged Cas to be more loquacious in these situations. His agent was the one to give him the alcohol to loosen his tongue in the first place, why would the other man now be trying to stifle Cas’ verbal expressions?

“I think that is enough, Ms. Talbot,” Balthazar interjected. “Mr. Novak has a very full schedule this afternoon, and it is time to go to his next appointment.”

Cas wanted to argue that he had nothing else scheduled for this afternoon, his agent knew better than to book multiple functions for him on any one day. The death-glare that Balthazar shot him quelled any argument that Castiel might have made.

“That’s okay Mr. Bentley,” Bela responded with a predatory smile, “I think I have more than enough for my story.”

The journalist gathered her materials and left before anything additional could be said. Leaving a confused novelist and a stunned agent in her wake.

Castiel settled his head back against the plush couch cushions. He felt comfortable sitting here, maybe he could even catch up on some of his sleep. He didn’t rest well when Dean worked his long shifts. Although the (slightly) younger man was exceedingly careful and had a dependable partner in Benny Lafitte, Castiel worried everytime he knew Dean was going into less safe neighborhoods; and when Dean’s shifts in those neighborhoods went into the night, Castiel found himself tossing and turning, unable to sleep until the other man was by his side again, safe, warm, and alive.

“God damn it, Castiel,” Balthazar practically roared, once he was assured that she-devil of a reporter was gone. “What the fuck has got in to you?”

Castiel blinked blearily from his comfortable corner of the couch.

“Did you even stop to think what you were saying before you fucking opened your mouth? Did you consider who you were talking to? Did you even remember that was being televised?”

“You always tell me to interact more with the reporters and to answer their questions honestly, and that is exactly what I did,” Castiel defended, confused as to why his agent was so upset.

Balthazar sighed and ran his hands anxiously through his hair, creating a disheveled appearance, causing the usually implacable agent to look thoroughly human.

“I am never letting you drink before a presser again,” Balthazar vowed. “I just hope we can salvage the damage.”

“What damage?” Castiel queried. What could he possibly have said that would infuriate his fans. They usually found him to be quirky and adorable, and found his frankness refreshing.

“The damage to your boyfriend, dumbass,” was the reply.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said. “How is there damage to Dean?”

“Oh, I don’t know Castiel. Are you really that self-centered?” Balthazar replied icily. “Maybe it has something to do with you basically admitting that you would have a sexual relationship with a famous movie star regardless of the fact that you are in a committed relationship with another man, a man who works a regular job and can’t possibly compare in status to a Hollywood type.

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that if and when your boyfriend sees this he probably will dump your sorry ass because he will be afraid that you will leave him for an actor. Maybe because you swore to never cheat on your boyfriend after his abysmal last relationship, and yet you basically are saying given the chance you will hop into bed with Michael Milton and Dean has to deal because it is your ‘celebrity pass.’”

Balthazar paused for a moment, obviously trying to compose himself. Castiel had known for a while that beneath Balthazar’s gruff and cocky demeanor, he was a warm and compassionate sort. Over the years he had represented Cas, Balthazar had become more than an agent, he was a friend. He also was Dean’s biggest supporter. More than once the agent insinuated if Castiel and Dean ever broke up, he would want to have first dibs on Dean’s rebound man-whore phase.

“Would you be happy to hear Dean talk about having a celebrity pass?” Balthazar pressed, venom lacing his words. “How would you feel if you heard him basically flaunt the fact that he was contemplating having an affair and that you would have to just ‘deal?’”

Castiel felt sick. Surely that is not what happened. The alcohol haze was starting to dissipate, and the weight of reality was returning. Was Balth right? Did he basically say he would agree to an affair with Michael Milton? That was the furthest thing from the truth. He loved Dean. He and Dean had been friends since they were in grade school, and started dating in college - before Castiel ever became a success. Cas was there for Dean when his relationship with Lisa Braeden collapsed; when Dean learned that not only had Lisa cheated on him, but the baby she claimed was his, was actually the other guy’s. Castiel had been there to comfort his friend, and over the weeks and months that followed, that support morphed into something new, something richer and more vibrant. Could Castiel have cast doubt on their entire relationship with a stupid slip of the tongue.

“How long until the piece airs?” Castiel asked, wondering if there was some way he could beg Bela not to air it.

“It aired live, Cassie,” Balthazar explained, as though speaking to a young child. “We discussed that yesterday. It was a live feed back to the studio to give you better exposure.”

Castiel’s stomach sank to the soles of his shoes. This was a disaster. The only hope would be that Dean was at work, maybe he wouldn’t have seen it. The author reached for his phone and felt lightheaded when he saw a series of new text messages displayed on his lock screen.

Gabriel: Jesus baby bro, you sure know how to fuck up a good thing and start a major shit storm in the process. You better hope Dean-O hasn't seen your performance yet or else you are gonna be out on your famous ass.

Sam Winchester: You jackass, What the hell do you think you are doing? You’re admitting to the world that you would cheat on my brother. That is the lowest shit you have ever pulled. I trusted you. Dean trusted you.

Jess Winchester: Cas? Is this some kind of joke? Why would you say something like that? Dean will be destroyed.

Dean: I’m staying with Sam and Jess for a few days. Don’t contact me. I will have someone come to get my shit before the end of the week. I hope you and Michael are very happy together.

The air was punched from Castiel’s lungs with each text landing like a punch to his gut. Tears were flowing down his cheeks when he realized how badly his words had stung. His words had been razors, they shredded the fabric of his and Dean’s relationship. It didn’t matter that he never meant what he said. All that mattered was the words had been said and could not be unsaid.

His stupidity had cost him the more precious jewel he had, the thing he valued more than royalties, book publications, movie deals, or fame. One careless turn of phrase had cost him the love of his life. He didn’t know if his heart could ever recover from that. He didn’t know if he possessed the words necessary to fix what he had broken.

For the first time in his memory, Castiel had no words - no words to make this right.

Chapter Text

Castiel stared at the blank computer screen. The blinking cursor seemed to mock him as it never moved from its original spot. He was supposed to be starting his next novel. The publishers were expecting another installation in his Angels series by the end of the year; but try as he might, no words were forthcoming.

The young author was many things, but stupid generally wasn’t one of them - regardless of what his recent actions may have tried to prove. Cas knew exactly why his usually fluid prose had dried up more than a puddle in the desert. His muse was gone.

From the time Castiel first considered writing professionally, it always had been Dean by his side. Dean’s encouragement and teasing. Dean’s actions and affection that imbued his characters with their multi-faceted charms. Sure, Cas was the one who found clever turns of phrase and was able to peck out the letters on the keyboard, but the true life of his characters came from his boyfriend. Now, Dean was gone and Castiel’s lingual well had gone dry.

Sighing, Castiel pushed himself away from his desk. This just wasn’t working. Nothing was working, not just his writing, but his life in general. He was used to one or two people being upset with him... his lack of verbal filter usually ensured that at least once a month. Despite that, he wasn’t used to Dean being upset with him and not talking to him. He wasn’t used to almost everyone of his acquaintance being mad at him at the same time. Castiel felt isolated, adrift, and he didn’t know what to do to make it right.

After his disastrous interview aired, Castiel returned to the quaint one-story home he and Dean bought the previous year. The house seemed empty, sad. No lights were shining cheerily from the inside. Even when he crossed the threshold into the entranceway, there was a chill in the air that was so atypical of the normal warmth - although that could just have been his (overactive) imagination.

For almost two weeks now, Castiel has been alone, isolated from those he loves most. He almost would have preferred to have his family and friends yell at him, berate him, tell him what an idiot he was to having this distance and silence.

Not to say that Castiel hasn’t tried to make contact with his loved ones. From the moment he glanced at his phone and saw those damning text messages, he had tried everything to work things out. He expected hostility and anger, he was met with a wall of silence. After those first messages, no one was responding to his olive branches. Of all those who had left him in the lurch, the most painful rejection was Dean’s. Not that his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) didn’t have every right to be angry, he absolutely did. Castiel just wished he had a chance to explain himself and try to make Dean understand that despite his idiocy in the interview, Castiel was not Lisa and he would never actually cheat on Dean.

Castiel wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel the fire of fury burning within his gut so that he could lash out and take some of the guilt off his own shoulders; but, try as he might, he could not fan the embers of his anger. All he felt was regret. He had messed this up. He knew all along that cheating was a hard limit for Dean, it was something the officer never would condone, even in jest.

Dean had seen how infidelity had ripped apart his own parents. When John Winchester had strayed and started an affair with a widowed neighbor named Kate Milligan, her resulting pregnancy had torn the Winchester family apart. Mary Winchester could not forgive her husband for his dalliance. John had moved out of the family home and into his lover’s residence. They welcomed Dean and Sam’s half-brother Adam later that year. John did not contest Mary’s request for full custody of the boys, but without their father in the home, Dean had selflessly assumed the role of “man of the house,” when his 12-year-old shoulders could hardly bear the burden. Mary had returned to work full time to support her sons, and Dean assumed the paternal role in Sam’s life, being the kind of father Dean himself often wished John Winchester was.

Not only had Dean’s childhood been sullied by a significant other straying, as a young man on the cusp of adulthood himself, Dean saw his first serious relationship ravaged by the same curse. Dean met Lisa Braeden his freshman year of college. They flirted outrageously with one another and eventually graduated to an official relationship, Dean’s first. After six-months of dating, Lisa came to Dean and told him she was pregnant and he was the father. Still in school and not wanting to put additional burden on his mother, Dean tried to plan the best future for his young family as possible. He even went shopping for an engagement ring for Lisa to make everything official before the baby was born.

Dean admitted to Cas that he didn’t think he and Lisa were meant for the long-term, but with a new life in the picture, he would not shirk his responsibilities, and he would man up regardless of his own feelings. The young Winchester was preparing his proposal - much to Castiel’s heartbreak - when Lisa sheepishly admitted Dean might not be the father. At the time she was seeing Dean, she had a brief sexual relationship with one of her exes and it was possible that Victor, not Dean was the real father. This revelation devastated Dean. He told Lisa he would support her and the baby, if the baby was his, but he could not and would not be in a relationship with someone who would cheat on him. The following week they took a paternity test and when the results were announced, Dean lost his girlfriend and the possibility of a child in one fell swoop.

After the paternity test, Dean appeared on Castiel’s doorstep drunker than the young Novak ever had seen his friend before. Castiel ushered the staggering man into his apartment and comforted him as best as possible during that time. Three months later the two men decided to stop fighting their mutual attraction with one another and give dating a chance; but, from the beginning Dean made it perfectly clear to Cas that he would not condone cheating of any type and if Cas would be unfaithful, Dean promised the relationship would be over faster than Cas could say “boo.” Castiel agreed to these terms because he loved Dean more than anything in the world, and there was no future scenario he could imagine where he would want to stray.

That still was the truth. Castiel had no intention of actually engaging in a relationship with another person, especially not when his partnership with Dean was so fulfilling. But, Castiel’s alcohol-loosened words triggered something in the other man; the words reignited insecurities and doubts that Dean had tried to suppress. Castiel hadn’t been drunk at the time he spoke to Bela - sure, he was a little buzzed from the strong whiskey that Balthazar had given him, but he was in full possession of his wits. It was just that his brain and his mouth decided to sever their relationship at that moment, severing his ties with Dean as well.

Castiel wanted to apologize. He wanted to beg for Dean’s forgiveness, but he couldn’t find the man. He went to Sam’s and Jess’ home to plead to see Dean, but neither of the married Winchesters appeared to be home. His repeated texts and calls to Dean’s phone had gone unanswered for days; and he really didn’t want to go to the police station to try to see Dean. He had a feeling if he showed up there, Benny Lafitte, Dean’s partner, would shoot him on sight and call it a justifiable homicide.

Every day Castiel tried to call Dean. Even if the other man deleted the messages without hearing them, Cas wanted to believe that eventually his words would get through to his boyfriend. And, if Castiel took comfort in hearing Dean’s warm voice rumble over the line, that was his own business.

Picking at his keyboard, Castiel groaned. He was not going to get any work done this way. Maybe he would try to call Dean again. He dialed the number and waited for the familiar greeting to filter through the airwaves. Instead of Dean’s rich baritone, however, Castiel heard an unfamiliar click, following by a mechanical voice stating, “I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected, or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again.”

That was it. Dean had cut him off. The green-eyed man always vowed that cheating was a hard limit for him, but Castiel never realized how much so until now. He didn’t know what else to do. He sat back at his computer and stared at the blinking cursor, hoping it would give him inspiration, a sign, something.

Suddenly, Castiel knew what he had to do. He may not have a fluidity with spoken word, but his forte was the written word. If he couldn’t text or call Dean, he would make one last ditch effort to apologize - even if Dean wouldn’t take him back, at least Cas could try to explain everything he was thinking or feeling with words. He wouldn’t send it to Sam’s house, fearing the younger Winchester would tear up the paper before Dean ever saw it; no, Castiel would send the letter to Dean’s precinct and hope no one intercepted it.

Castiel withdrew a long forgotten sheaf of stationery and rooted around his desk for a pen. He was so used to writing everything on the computer that he took him a moment to reacclimate himself to the more traditional approach - but he didn’t want this letter to look like a manuscript. Dean had to know that this was different, that it came from the heart.

The blank paper looked just as vast and imposing as the computer screen did earlier, and for a moment Castiel panicked that he wouldn’t be able to find the right words to say. Then, it dawned on him. For once in his adult life, he wasn’t looking for the perfect words. This wasn’t a novel, he didn’t need to produce flowery language or lyrical prose, he needed to be blunt and honest and convey his feelings to Dean. What was intimidating was the fact this letter was perhaps the most important thing he ever had written in his life; it had the ability to restore his relationship with a man who meant everything to him, or it would be the death knell to a long-term love affair.

Castiel sat in uncertainty for several more heartbeats, but then the words began to flow. They weren’t flowery, they weren’t polished, they weren’t agonized over...they were his thoughts pouring out as water from a fountain. The dam burst and Castiel poured his heart and soul into each paragraph. He spoke of his love for Dean, how he had loved him before the Lisa fiasco but was afraid to jeopardize their friendship. He spoke of his hurt and desolation that Dean would so abruptly end them without even talking to Cas. Every thought, fear, hope, and desire he ever had he poured into the letter. The raven-haired man lost all track of time, all that mattered was putting these words to page.

When the last word poured from his pen, Castiel slumped back into his chair, exhausted mentally and drained emotionally. In front of him were fifteen pages - front and back - filled with his unique scrawl. He hadn’t intended to write so much, but he figured this was the time to get everything out in the open. He didn’t know if Dean would give him a chance, but at least if they were going to be over, Castiel would know that he went down fighting and tried to explain everything to his beloved.

Without taking the chance to over think the sentiments in his letter, Castiel quickly found an envelope and put his epistle in the mail. He didn’t put a return address on the outside. Dean probably would recognize Castiel’s writing, but hopefully none of his co-workers would, increasing the chances that Dean would actually receive the letter without someone else destroying it first.

Now, all he had to do was wait to see if Dean would make contact.

*****

Four days after Castiel sent his apology to Dean and it still was radio silence from Winchester-land. The young author’s stomach was tied up in knots. He was having a hard time sleeping and he found himself not taking an interest in much at all. He couldn’t sit at his computer, the words lost their appeal, and if he tried to force something out, he had a strange itching sensation under his skin that made him restless and need to be moving.

Mail delivery in Palo Alto from one area to the next was fairly quick, so Castiel calculated Dean should have received the letter by no later than the second day. Of course, the sergeant may not have been able to read the correspondence immediately; but, by the four day mark, he should have had a chance to at least glance at it. Did that truly mean it was over?

Negative thoughts plagued Castiel, his eyes were red-rimmed from tears he tried not to shed. His hair was in wild disarray from the near-constant raking of his hands through the dark locks. His face was covered with four-days worth of growth and the feeling of the bristles against his hand was unusual, but the burning sensation it gave him against his hand was grounding in some ways.

Funny how Castiel always envisioned he and Dean would have their happily ever after. In his fantasies, Castiel dreamed that Dean was whisking them away on their planned vacation to propose to him and they would finally be married. Maybe after another year or two, if Dean kept excelling at his job, he might be able to get a promotion and the two men could talk about starting a family. These were all dreams he had kept tightly bottled up and was loath to extinguish.

He would give Dean one more day. If he hadn’t heard from his boyfriend by the next day, he would try to call him at the station one last time, and if that didn’t work, Castiel would have to pick up the fractured shards of his broken heart and try to find a way to live again. A post-Dean world seemed so unrealistic, a wilder fantasy than anything he concocted for his novels.

Shaking the lingering sadness from his shoulders, Castiel decided to venture out of the house. He was good with routine and structure, and he hadn’t had much of that since he and Dean separated. Today, he was going to go to the neighborhood cafe and get his customary order. Then, he was going to return and clean himself up and he was determined to write a few hundred words at least - he needed to prove to the publisher he was taking this seriously; a broken heart didn’t mean diddly in comparison to a broken contract (according to his publisher).

Walking outside, the air smells different than the stale stink of his home. The light floral notes in the air revitalize a part of Castiel and motivate him onward. The sun is shining brilliantly in the azure blue of the sky. It had been days since he had been outside, he had neglected his customary morning runs in favor of hiding like a hermit in his hovel. Breathing deeply, the young author tried to take pleasure in the simple beauty he saw around him.

Moments later, he enters the small coffee shop around the corner. Harvelle’s wouldn’t be able to compete with the larger chains in most communities, but Palo Alto is an eclectic, collegiate town, and the students like having the option to go to a homey cafe. Castiel is a regular because Dean’s surrogate mother, Ellen Harvelle, is the owner, and she would kick their asses if they tried to go to the Starbucks down the street. Plus her coffee is better.

Castiel knows he isn’t just coming to Harvelle’s on muscle-memory. He is coming to try to glean some intel on Dean; maybe even spy the man himself. Of course, Cas could be inviting himself a serious ass-kicking if Ellen or her daughter, and Dean’s surrogate sister, Jo, had anything to say about it. That was a risk he was willing to take. Plus, he found himself craving a cafe mocha and one of Ellen’s signature blueberry muffins.

The coffeehouse was surprisingly quiet for mid-morning. A few students were sprawled on the mismatched couches, cramming for exams that afternoon. Other tables were filled with business-attired men and women fueling up to begin their day. There was no queue and as Castiel approached the counter, he saw Jo was working on one of the coffee machines, phone pressed to her ear.

“Sam, slow down, what do you mean Dean is in the hospital?” Jo hissed, concern lacing her tone. Cas was just outside of her peripheral vision, and she didn’t know he was behind her, yet.

Castiel felt his world upend on its axis. Surely he had misheard, that’s what he gets for eavesdropping. There was no way Dean was hurt. He was Dean’s primary emergency contact, someone would have called him...unless Dean already had severed all connections with Castiel, and relieved him of that duty.

“Shit,” Jo cursed quietly, “that’s bad. What are the doctors saying?”

He can’t bear to hear any more. His Dean is hurt and in the hospital. His Dean could be in surgery or dying and Castiel is not there. This is a nightmare. Why would his cruel imagination dredge up such a horrific scene. Images of Dean dying without Castiel saying goodbye, without Castiel saying he loves Dean one last time start to tunnel his vision. For a moment, he is afraid he is going to pass out; but, then he feels his resolve intensify. He has to make it to the hospital.

Spinning on his heels, Castiel runs out of the cafe before he can hear any more. His flurry of activity finally alerts Jo to his presence and he vaguely registers her shouting his name and calling him to come back, but he doesn’t turn back.

Returning home, he gets into his beat-up Pontiac that Dean likes to tease him about, and barely remembers to fasten his seatbelt before he backs haphazardly out of the driveway, tires screeching in protest at the sudden acceleration. Nothing matters at this moment but getting to the hospital. A sick part of Castiel’s mind chuckles at the irony of the situation. The whole scenario is like a bad plot in one of his stories. It is a storyline he probably would have abandoned because he can’t stand his characters being in mortal peril - the hazards of having your boyfriend as your muse.

Remarkably he makes the relatively short drive to the hospital safely and he stumbles out of the car. He looks a wreck. His already disheveled appearance is heightened by the wild-eyed terror in his eyes. No sooner does he set foot inside the chrome and glass entranceway of the hospital then he is set upon by security.

“Sir,” one of the female guards says. “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

Castiel tries to open his mouth, but he finds his throat closing around the words. He wets his lips in an effort to get much needed salvia to pool in his mouth, providing some lubrication so he can force the words out of his unused larynx.

“My...boyfriend....is here,” Castiel finally grates out, voice unused and sounding like he swallowed a cup full of gravel and chased it with rock salt. “Have...to...find him.”

“Okay,” the guard says, still wary of his appearance. “Let’s take you over here and see if we can help you. My name is Jody.”

“Castiel,” he replies, not really registering much of what is going on. All that matters is finding Dean.

Jody escorts him to a more quiet alcove of the information area. Vaguely he realizes he must look like an insane person and the security officer is worried he is going to harm someone. Fact is he might hurt someone if he doesn’t get some answers soon.

“Okay, let’s tell this young lady who you are looking for,” Jody instructs, nodding to the wide-eyed receptionist behind the desk.

“Winchester. Dean Winchester,” Castiel growls, vocal chords finally loosening enough to get the important information out. “He is a sergeant with Station 9, I heard he was wounded and in the hospital. I need to know where he is.”

The young receptionist types some information into her computer and frowns at what she sees.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she says, almost hesitantly. “There is no record of a Dean Winchester in our records.”

“Check again,” Castiel commands, not caring if he sounds deranged. “He was injured and this is the only hospital in the area so he has to be here. I don’t care if there is an order forbidding me to see him, I want you to tell me where the fuck he is.”

Castiel’s voice rose with each word to where he practically was yelling by the end. At his side, Jody moves to put distance between him and the hospital employee. It is obvious from her actions that she fears violence from him.

“Castiel,” Jody says, trying to diffuse the volatile situation. “If this young lady says he is not here, I have to believe he is not here.”

“No,” Castiel practically roars. “His family just wants to keep me from him. They don’t want me to be able to say goodbye because I am a major fuck-up, and now Dean is alone and dying and I can’t make it right, it will never be right.”

He doesn’t even register that he is crying. The tears started somewhere in the middle of his rant, and he doesn’t know if he can stop them. Jody is standing beside him bewildered at what to do. The young receptionist looks like she wants to bolt as soon as possible to flee from the obviously insane man in front of her.

“Cas!” a new voice calls out from behind him.

Castiel doesn’t turn around because now his imagination obviously has decided to give him a mental breakdown. He would know that voice anywhere, rich, warm, and full of concern - it was Dean. But, that was impossible, Dean was injured, he couldn’t be here.

“Cas,” the voice calls again, but this time it is followed by the firm weight of a hand on his shoulder. The grip is warm, alive, and solid. There is something grounding in the touch that Castiel grips on to like a lifeline.

“Cas,” the voice repeats for a third time. “I need you to turn around, buddy. You’re scaring these nice people.”

Slowly, Castiel turns around and finds himself staring into the most remarkable emerald eyes he ever saw. Dean.

“Am I hallucinating?” Castiel mumbled.

“Depends,” Dean rejoins with a shadow of his signature smirk. “Do you often hallucinate pissed off boyfriends in the middle of crowded hospitals?”

Still uncertain of what he is seeing, Castiel reaches out a hand and traces it over the contours of Dean’s face, trying to assure himself that the man in front of him is truly here.

“Hey,” Castiel says weakly to the man in front of him.

“Hey yourself,” Dean replies, mouth relaxing into a soft, semi-smile.

Suddenly the reality of the situation crashes down on Cas. Seeing Dean alive and in the flesh after almost three weeks apart, Castiel’s knees begin to buckle. Dean still has a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and feels the collapse; the taller man catches Cas before he falls and anchors him.

“C’mon man,” Dean says softly. “There’s a cafeteria off to the side. How’s about we get some pie and coffee and you can tell me what the hell you are doing here.”

Reaching out blindly, Castiel hauls Dean into a bone-crushing hug. He doesn’t care that they are fighting. He doesn’t care if Dean hates him, because in this moment, Castiel has never been happier. Dean is alive. He is safe. The realization of that hits Castiel like a ton of bricks and he starts to cry. Sobs begin wracking his slender frame as he clutches tighter to his officer.

“Shhh,” Dean soothes, running a hand up Cas’ back. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s go sit down. I think it’s time we had a talk.”

Chapter Text

Castiel allowed himself to be herded into the neighboring cafeteria. He felt discombobulated. Nothing was making sense. Dean was injured, he was in the hospital, but how was he here with Cas. Was this a dream? It didn’t feel like a dream; but, did dreams really feel like dreams while you were dreaming them? That was enough to make his head hurt.

“You’re thinking too much, dude,” Dean admonished softly. He had disappeared briefly after they arrived to procure their food and beverage. Castiel felt a jolt of panic when Dean stepped out of his personal space, but seeming to pick up on that fear, the taller man made sure he stayed within Cas’ line of sight the entire time he selected their sandwiches and coffees.

Lunch laid out on the table, the two men stare at each other in uncertainty, neither sure of the first move, or who should make it.

Finally, Dean breaks the silence.

“You really should eat that,” the officer says, pointing toward Cas’ pastrami sandwich. “You look like you haven’t had a good meal in days.”

Castiel shakes himself at those words, hearing Dean’s voice again grounds him and gives him the guidance he needs to pull himself out of his own head - just like it always does.

“We have much to talk about,” Castiel says wanting to address the elephant in the room, of their relationship. “I have much to say, but also questions.”

Dean nods, warmth and wariness warring in his eyes. Castiel knows that Dean does not trust easily and that when he does give his trust it is with an unshakable loyalty. However, Castiel also shook that loyalty to its core, so of course Dean would be a little wary of this discussion, especially in public. But, maybe having it in public is better, less of a chance of making a scene.

“How ‘bout this?” Dean suggests, taking a sip of his too hot sludge-like coffee. “For every bite you take of your sandwich, I’ll answer one question. Once you get to the end of the sandwich, we’ll continue through the pie. Deal?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel says, a smile playing about his lips.

The author picks up his sandwich and takes a timid bite; he really doesn’t feel hungry, and the past few days when he has attempted to eat, the swirling nausea that overwhelms him afterward is hardly worth the effort.

However, this may be the best sandwich he ever has eaten in his life. From the first bite it reawakens him and he feels his stomach growl and gurgle angrily and though it is just realizing how neglected it has been. Maybe this sandwich tastes so good because there is a hope of reconciliation.

Thoughtfully chewing his food, Castiel glances at his erstwhile boyfriend. Dean is munching on a piece of pizza, and though the other man still has some tension in the set of his shoulders, Castiel does not sense anger or hostility. This more than anything is cause for Castiel to have hope.

“First question,” Castiel says, wiping any stray pieces of pastrami from his mouth with a napkin. “Why are you here? From the conversation I overheard with Jo, she said you were in the hospital. Not that I wanted you in the hospital, I am pleased that you seem well, I am just...confused.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it isn’t nice to eavesdrop, Cas?” Dean teased, causing a familiar, safe warmth to spread throughout Castiel’s body. “When you eavesdrop, you don’t hear the full story.”

Castiel hung his head somewhat sheepishly. “Well, no one was talking to me, so the only way I was able to get information was from eavesdropping, so I felt it was justified.”

At that, Castiel saw a flicker of hurt flash across Dean’s face. He wanted to question the response, but didn’t have a chance as Dean started speaking again.

“I had been working crazy overtime, as you know, to bank time for our vacation,” Dean explained, pausing only for another small bite of his pizza. “After your interview, I started working even more, didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to have time to think. Well, I guess there is a limit as to how many consecutive, long shifts an officer can work in a given period of time. Safety regulations and other such shit.

“So, two days ago, the boss comes out and barks to me ‘Winchester, you are outta here,’ tells me I can’t be in the station for at least four days. Mandatory rest period.”

Dean pauses for a drink, and looks pointedly at Cas’ food, laying untouched on the plate. Cas had been so enraptured with Dean talking to him again after a three week drought that he wanted to give his full attention to the words being spoken. However, reading in his boyfriend’s face a determination that if Cas doesn’t look after himself, the words will stop, Cas dutifully begins to eat again. The interaction between the two of them is comfortable, familiar. Dean always was the caretaker in their relationship, and Castiel always basked in the comfort and safety that care provided him with.

Satisfied to see the other man eating, Dean continued his tale. “So, I’m catching up on zzz’s and trying to make myself useful for Sam and Jess and Benny’s got to deal  with another guy in my place.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I’ve heard since that Benny was checking out a possible B&E on the south side when he was jumped from behind. Guy completely got the drop on Ben and shot him twice - once in the stomach and once in the shoulder. Sounds of bullets cracking brought the new guy running. He didn’t see the guy who shot Benny, but called for an ambulance.

“After Benny and Andrea broke up, Benny listed me as his emergency contact. I told him that was kinda stupid as he and I were partners and if something happened to him, I most likely already would be there, but he insisted - damn stubborn Cajun - and the hospital called me to say he was in the ER. I came running down here as soon as I could. I called Sam to let him know what was happening, and I guess he called Jo. I kinda think that Jo might have the teeniest of crushes on Benny.

“So, what you overheard was Sam telling Jo that Benny was in the hospital, and that I was here, in case any decisions needed to be made, and also as moral support for my partner and friend.”

Dean stopped at that point, his face was shadowed with pain, and Cas could see the faint shimmer of tears building up in the other man’s eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel said, immediately understanding the source of Dean’s pain. “That Benny is here. It isn’t your fault.”

Dean smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that hinted at self-deprecation.

“If I wouldn’t have been so wound up about my own shit, I would have been there for the shift. I woulda had his back.”

“And what if you would have been on vacation? This still could have happened. Would you have blamed yourself at that point, too?”

“He’s my partner, it’s my job to look after him.”

“You can’t save everyone, Dean, though you try,” Castiel said, stretching his hand across the table to take Dean’s in a warm clasp. “This isn’t on you, and I am sure Benny won’t blame you, either. How is he now?”

Dean glanced at their joined hands for a moment, but didn’t make a move to untangle their digits, causing hope to flare in Cas - maybe they could work through this, maybe they could salvage their relationship.

“He’s outta surgery,” Dean said, relief evident in his tone. “Docs said he’s in recovery and they will call me when they move him to a room if I want to visit him.”

Castiel nodded and smiled encouragingly at this news. He knew Benny was a fighter, as much as Dean was. The other man would fight and would come through this with a couple new scars, but none the worse for wear. Having more to ask Dean, Castiel reluctantly moved his hand so he could take another bite of his sandwich.

“How did you know I was at the information desk?” Castiel queried, wondering how Dean found him.

“Jo,” Dean said simply.

Castiel looked at him quizzically, head tilting slightly to the side, as he always did when confronted with something he didn’t quite understand.

“She saw you at the counter and put two-and-two together that you overheard her conversation,” Dean expounded. “She tried to stop you, but you already had bolted. She figured you would come to the hospital and called me to be on the lookout. I woulda be down sooner, but the docs had just come in to give me an update on Ben before I could come down.”

“I have never been more scared in my life that I was when I heard that phone call,” Castiel admitted, feeling too-familiar, these days, burn of tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Dean said sincerely. “You know me, I take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.”

“That’s not funny, Dean,” Castiel replied, a few of the tears starting to streak down his face.

“It’s a little funny,” Dean replied, somewhat lamely.

Castiel just shook his head and struggled to regain his composure. There was too much to talk about for him to start blubbering like a baby.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, so softly Castiel almost missed it.

“What?” Cas queried, raising his tear-streaked face to meet Dean’s perceptive gaze.

“I shouldn’t have made fun,” Dean continued. “I know things are weird between us. I’m just used to being able to laugh things off and joke with you, I should’ve thought about how that would sound. I’m sorry.”

Castiel nodded, acknowledging and accepting the apology in that gesture. He had a big question to ask Dean, so he took a big bite of his sandwich - both to adhere to the rules of the game he and Dean were playing, and to provide a buffer, to give him a moment to gather his courage.

Dean took that time to polish off the rest of his pizza and have another swig of his drink, as well.

Taking a deep breath to ask the question he most wanted to hear answered, Castiel asked, “Did you get my letter? Did you read it?”

Dean reached into the front pocket of his well-worn leather jacket to extract a lumpy packet. It was the letter Castiel mailed to him. Dean had it!

“I got it the day Captain put me on leave,” Dean said. “I knew it was from you, and now I knew I was gonna have the time to look at it, but I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted to do. I wanted to stay mad at you, in some ways.”

“Why?” Castiel breathed, afraid of the answer.

“You broke my heart,” Dean said, sadness and misery etched into every crevice of his face.

“Dean…”

“No, let me finish. I think it’s past time that I get over my communication issues and speak” Dean said, squaring his shoulders like he was facing an unpleasant task. “When I heard about the interview, I was still at work. All I knew was Sam was calling me saying you had given a dumbshit soundbite on one of those entertainment shows and that he was gonna rip your lungs out.

“He told me what you said, and hearing that destroyed me. You know how I feel about that topic with everything with my Dad and Lisa, and I didn’t know why you would parade something like that, even in jest. It was like you were trying to exploit my biggest insecurities to the world and mock me for it at the same time. So, did I really think that you wanted to get it on with Michael Milton? No, I didn’t. Did I think you were taking the piss out of me and trying to rile me up to feel uncertain with our relationship? Yes, I did.

“Ever since your novels took off, I have been so damned proud of you. Proud of what you have been able to accomplish. Proud of the way that you stay grounded and humble despite Hollywood knocking on your door. Despite the fact that I am bursting at the seams with joy for you, these past few years have been a reality check for me. I doubt myself and wonder if now that you have the world at your feet, will it be enough for you to stay in little Palo Alto and be in a relationship with a lowly sergeant. It’s not a glamorous life, and God knows it’s a dangerous gig, so my own insecurities flare up that maybe you only stay with me for nostalgia, and that maybe you want to find someone new.

“I know you would say that is ridiculous, but I can’t help but have those fears. My life experiences haven’t exactly made me look at the world through rose-colored glasses. So, although I typically have faith in you and in us, when I heard this little soundbite, it just amplified all my fears and seemed to confirm my doubts. I was worried you were going to call it quits, so I decided to try to save what I could of my heart and beat a hasty retreat.”

Dean paused at this point to take another sip of his coffee. Castiel just stared at the beautiful, loyal, unpredictably unselfish man in front of his and felt his heart simultaneously break and stitch back together.

“I didn’t want to take your calls, I didn’t want to hear your messages or read your texts,” Dean continued, voice sounding rougher than before, as though his emotions were closer to the surface and he was losing the battle at letting them take over. “If we were to be over, it was going to be emotionally devastating, but I wanted it to be over. I didn’t want to have to think about it; so, I did the cowardly thing - I hid.

“In my own twisted sense of chivalry, I had convinced myself I was doing the best thing for you. That you would be free to have the Hollywood lifestyle, if you wanted, without some backwater cop holding you back.”

“You have never held me back, Dean,” Castiel burst out, unable to stay silent any more. He couldn’t bear to hear Dean talk about himself in such a way. “Do you really think so little of yourself that you cannot see how precious you are to me? You never held me back, you made me reach for the stars.”

Tears spilled over both men’s cheeks at those impulsive words. Dean read the sincerity in Cas’ tone, but seemed to still struggle with the veracity of them.

“These past few weeks that we have been apart, I have felt like a huge part of myself has been missing,” Castiel confessed. “I know it sounds cliched, but it is true. You always have been my constant, my lodestar, and without you I was adrift. I haven’t been able to write so much as a word in the time we have been apart because everything seems empty without you.”

Dean smiled up at Castiel. “I think you have been able to write more than a word, baby. I have a sheaf of papers that tells me the words have been coming out just fine.”

Castiel glared at Dean, causing the other man to put his hands up in mock surrender. “You know very well what kind of writing I meant, you insufferable assbutt.”

“Yeah, I do,” all teasing gone from Dean’s tone, only warmth and honesty remaining. “I didn’t want to read your letter, but when I got the call about Benny, I found myself grabbing it as I rushed out the door. It was instinctual, automatic.

“So, I found myself in the family waiting room, with nothing but time on my hands and a ream of papers practically burning a hole in my chest. After the first hour, my curiosity finally won out, and I started to read, and then I re-read, and then I re-read again, just to try to wrap my tiny brain around what you were saying. It took an embarrassingly long time for the truth of the words to soak in.”

“And now,” Castiel said, voice small, knowing the answer would decide his future. He didn’t want to be without Dean, but he knew he would have to accept whatever the green-eyed man decided.

“And now, I understand,” he said. “I understand what you were trying to say. It still hurts me that you would joke about something you know causes me pain, but I also know that you are sincere when you say that you never would have acted on your words - that there were just to sound, as you said in your letter ‘pithy’ and ‘witty’.”

“Failed pretty spectacularly at that,” Castiel mumbled, picking at the remains of his sandwich.

The two men fell silent, neither wanting to ask the next, most logical question. The weight of the unspoken words were heavy around them.

“So,” Dean said, gathering up his nerve, “where do we go from here?”

Castiel’s head shot up, hope and fear warring for dominance in his eyes. “Where do you want to go from here?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to answer a question with a question,” Dean quipped.

“Yes, but as I’m not currently writing I think it is perfectly acceptable.”

“What do you want to do?” Dean retorted.

“I want you to come home,” Castiel said baldly, putting all his cards on the table. He was exposed and vulnerable, but he wanted this decision to be Dean’s; he wouldn’t take that choice from him.

“I would like that very much,” Dean replied, ducking his head somewhat as though he didn’t want Castiel to see his emotions.

“Really?” Castiel exclaimed, he was trying to tamp down the joy he felt in his heart, just in case he had misheard.

“I’m not saying we won’t have some issues to work through, and that I won’t have some minor freak outs,” Dean said, “but, I understand more after reading your letter. I accept your apology and I never stopped loving you. So, if you really want this still, then let’s do it. But, if we do it, we are all in.”

“All in?” Castiel parroted, confused as to where Dean was going with this.

“I don’t want any lingering doubts or fears tainting our relationship. You want me? You got me, all of me, but I need to be sure the same is true with you.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, scooting his chair around so that he was sitting next to the other man, thigh to thigh, “I have never wanted to be with anyone other than you in my entire life. From the day I first met you, you stole my heart, and I never want you to give it back. I want to be with you every day of my life. If anything, these past few weeks, just proved to me how useless I am without you. I have had enough of being without you to last me a lifetime. I want you back and I want you to stay forever, longer if possible.”

Dean grinned at his boyfriend at that. “Dude, that was seriously cheesy. Did you steal that from one of your characters?”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Castiel replied with a grin. “I think it was utterly romantic and heartfelt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, smug grin giving way to something infinitely more nervous. “So, does that mean you’re all in?”

Again with that phrase, Castiel’s brows tugged together in confusion.

“I don’t understand that reference, Dean,” the blue-eyed man said. “What do you mean, all in?”

“As in will you marry me?”

Castiel was very glad he was sitting down because if he wasn’t, he is pretty sure he would have fallen over at the question.

“Excuse me,” he choked out.

“That’s what I was planning to ask you when we went away on our trip,” Dean explained, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “I’ve hated these past few weeks, and after reading your explanation, I see that it is my own insecurity as much as anything that caused the discord.

“I know that marriage doesn’t necessarily mean fidelity, I mean my own parents are proof of that, but I would feel better if I knew that you were contractually obligated to be with me. Maybe then I can let go of a little of my worries that you are going to realize you can do so much better than me and just disappear one day. So, if we do this, we do this, and we are all in.”

Castiel wondered for a brief moment if he had gone insane. Maybe his time away from Dean had so addled his brain that he was caught in his own imagination at this point. Because Dean offering him marriage, forever, that was the stuff his dreams were made of.

“So, what’dya say? Castiel Novak, will you marry me?”

Words caught in his throat, at the one time he most needed his language skills they seem to have taken a leave of absence.

He didn’t want to leave Dean hanging, didn’t want the other man to equate silence with rejection, so he leaned forward and grabbed Dean behind the neck and crushed his lips to that of the other man. In that instance he let his mouth speak for him of commitment and devotion. In that moment, the love and passion that flowed through the kiss spoke volumes, and gave his answer eloquently - more than words could ever say.

Chapter Text

The next week passed in a blur for Castiel and Dean. In many ways, not too much changed from when they were separated. With Benny still recovering in the hospital from his surgery, Dean was pulled back into active shifts and was busier than ever.

Other than their heart-to-heart at the hospital when they were able to reconcile, the two men hadn’t been able to have much time together. It also meant that Dean wasn’t able to help Castiel reacclimate back into the family. Usually when Dean pulled consistent long shifts Sam and Jess or one or the other would be on what Dean affectionately dubbed “Cas-sitting duty.” Dean didn’t like feeling as though he abandoned his boyfriend during the long shifts, so his family was more than happy to step in.

Dean asked Sam and Jess if they were free, but both conveniently had plans. The elder Winchester grumbled and tried to call his brother on his avoidance tactic, but Sam held fast to his claim he and Jess had these plans for weeks and were unable to break them on the spur of the moment.

Castiel told Dean it was fine, and the other man begrudgingly let the situation go. Dean promised when he was done with his last shift on Friday, he would call Sam and Jess and make some plans for all of them to get together and clear the air. In many ways, Castiel was not relishing that conversation.

For the most part, Castiel was able to amuse himself just fine - thank you very much overprotective boyfriend. The day after their reconciliation, Cas crashed for a day. Monday night he went out with some colleagues from his office for drinks. Tuesday he spent a productive amount of time organizing his spice rack and cookbooks, earmarking recipes he was eager to try out. By Wednesday he had scrubbed the house within an inch of its life and fell into bed exhausted, but wondering how he would occupy himself the next evening.

“You are a grown man, Castiel,” he chastised himself. “You are more than capable of finding things to do fulfil your time without Dean or his family.”

That wasn’t really true. Cas and Dean had grown up practically attached at the hip. Castiel was more reserved than Dean and usually let the other man take the lead - not that Dean didn’t ask for the blue-eyed man’s suggestions. Without Dean’s larger-than-life personality and the warm familiarity of his family - which had become Cas’ by extension - Cas found himself somewhat lonely. Not as much as when he and Dean had been apart, but lonely nonetheless.

The next day passed at a snail’s pace and Castiel found himself trying to do whatever he could to avoid returning to his and Dean’s empty home. He stopped at the grocery store on the way home and took longer than usual to pick up an assortment of ingredients to make for tomorrow’s dinner.

When he no longer could avoid the inevitable, Castiel maneuvered his car deftly through traffic to turn onto his street. Pulling up to their quaint ranch-style house, Castiel was surprised to see a familiar silver BMW parked on the street. That was Jess’ car.

Uneasiness coursed through Castiel as he wondered why Jess would be dropping by without calling first. Even when she was on Cas-sitting duty, she always texted or called first to give him the heads up to know to expect her. Castiel had a feeling he should have stopped at the liquor store to pick up a bottle - or twelve - before coming home; he had a feeling he was going to need it.

Warily pulling himself and his bags out of the vehicle, Castiel approached the front porch where he saw Jessica Winchester sitting patiently on the swing, reading a novel on her phone.

“Hello, Jessica,” Castiel greeted, shifting the bags to one arm to open the front door with a free hand. “Would you like to come in?”

Jess nodded and rose gracefully from the swing and entered the cozy home behind her brother-in-law’s once again significant other.

“Where would you like to chat? In the kitchen? The living room? Would you like a drink? Something to eat? Should I expect Sam soon?” Castiel babbled when he was nervous, and he found himself incredibly nervous in this situation. Usually Jess’ warm personality and compassionate nature immediately put the older man at ease, but there already was a tension tangible between the two of them, and he realized he might not be welcomed into the Winchester family as easily as he was the first time.

“Nothing to drink or eat, thank you. The living room might be more comfortable,” Jess replied, readily walking toward the comfortable room with its shabby chic furniture and eclectic design style.

Jess situated herself in an overstuffed green recliner chair, while Castiel perched on the edge of their green-brown loveseat. He felt like a recalcitrant youth being called before his parents, or the principal to answer for misbehavior; and he guessed that was an accurate description in some ways.

“How have you and Sam been?” Castiel asked, striving for normal, polite conversation.

“Fine,” Jess said, her smile tight and forced, not as open and warm as it usually was. “In answer to your other question, Sam will not be joining me. He is preparing for a major case that is going to trial in two weeks, so he is staying late at the office with his team to research and prepare their arguments. It’s just me.”

Cas tried to smile, but he didn’t say anything else; he decided to wait for Jess to take the lead.

“I thought this might be a good time for us to talk without Sam butting in or Dean getting angry.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, figuring this was the best he could hope for after everything.

“I had a feeling you might be feeling confused about some things, and I thought I would offer Sam’s and my perspective on things to try to help,” the younger blonde began.

“Jess, I know I was rash in what I said, and it was thoughtless. However, Dean and I have spoken about everything and he has agreed for us to start again,” Castiel tried to explain.

“I know,” Jess said, sighing as she settled back in the warm recliner. “But, you have to understand that while Dean may have forgiven you and is willing to move forward, I wanted to explain what this has been like for Sam and me, and why it might take us a little longer to get back to the way things used to be.”

Castiel tilted his head slightly to the side in confusion. That didn’t make sense to him.

“Jess, if anyone should have a difficult time forgiving me, it should be Dean,” Castiel reasoned. “My words would have been hurtful to him with his history.”

“Yes, but you have been around long enough to know that if you hurt one Winchester brother, you hurt both of them, and usually the other is the one to hold the grudge longer.”

Nodding in agreement, Castiel said, “I didn’t believe that Sam would welcome me back with open arms immediately, but I hoped he would trust Dean’s judgment. I also hoped that he would take into consideration our long years of friendship in the process.”

“Nothing is easy when you love when of the Winchester boys,” Jessica said, grabbing a strand of honey-blonde hair and twirling it unconsciously around her finger in an uncomfortable gesture.

“You have to understand that Dean was so proud of you with the release of this newest book and he was so excited that your book was being optioned to Hollywood,” Jessica began.

Castiel frowned, this was nothing he didn’t know already. Dean always was supportive of his endeavors and always encouraged Cas, even when the darker-haired man didn’t believe in himself.

“However, even though he was supportive, the attention this was bringing to you was dredging up long repressed insecurities for him,” Jessica paused, she felt as though she was betraying her brother-in-law’s confidence, but she felt it was necessary to explain hers and Sam’s distance.

“I know you love Dean, but with all the success you have been getting lately, Dean has been worried that you will wake up one morning and decide you can do better than him. In his mind, everyone he’s loved has left him at some point, even if it is only temporary. Sam left him to go to college, and their relationship was strained for several years because of that distance. John left him when he and Mary divorced. And Mary left him when she decided to move across the country for a fresh start away from her memories of her marriage to John, and his subsequent betrayal. Lisa left when she cheated on him.

“In all his life, the only constant Dean has ever had...has been you.”

Castiel considered Jessica’s words, and he felt a pang of guilt hit him. He already felt badly for what he had said, and he knew some of why Dean would be hurt by that, but he never considered the full implications.

“I think in many ways, Dean has kept a portion of his heart partitioned off from everyone and everything because he always is expecting the worst case scenario. He always is waiting for that person to wise up and to leave him. You probably know better than I do, but he is such an incredible guy, but he has insecurities that run longer and deeper than the Mississippi River, and he hides behind walls and masks to try to protect himself.

“With you though, he was all in. He allowed you to see everything he was, and he was terrified that if you would leave, you would take that last piece of his heart - as well as the rest of it - and leave him with an empty hole where his heart used to be.

“When he heard your comments to Bela, they seemed to affirm his deepest fears, and he felt that even though he thought you might have been joking that there was a kernel of truth hiding within the joke. He thought you really would be willing to leave him for Michael, and he didn’t believe he would be able to compete. So, for him, it was easier to hide behind anger and for him to be the one to break it off.”

Castiel felt the first tears pool in his eyes. He knew he had hurt Dean, but this was even more than he realized.

“He showed up on our doorstep drunker than I have ever seen him and basically collapsed in front of us,” Jess recounted, tears shining in her own eyes at the memory. “He was wrecked. For the first time ever, I saw him reach out to Sam and grab on to him as a lifeline; he couldn’t let go. Sam actually stayed in the room with him for the first two nights. I don’t know how much sleep either of them got. I tried to give them as much space and support as I could. Dean didn’t need his sister-in-law at that point, he needed his brother.”

She paused to compose herself and clear the thickness emotion caused in her throat.

“When Dean would go to work, I had to do everything I possibly could to keep Sam from coming after you, I didn’t want my husband arrested for murder,” she confessed.

“But, that is what I don’t understand,” Castiel broke in. “You all know me. I can understand why Dean might have some doubts, although that still hurts me. But, I would have thought you all would know me well enough to know that I never in a million years would actually cheat on him. I love Dean. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. You all know that I don’t always think before I speak.”

Jess smiled sadly at the older man. “I know,” she replied, “but, that doesn’t make it any easier to see a loved one in pain. Seeing Dean and how he was hurting was painful to us, Sam especially.

“I know it doesn’t seem logical or even fair, but you have to understand when couples get together, their families try to embrace the significant other, and they accept that significant other as long as the two are together. However, most always, if problems arise between the couple, the family tends to rally around their loved one. So, that’s what happened in this situation. Dean got hurt, and the family had to make a decision - support Dean, or defend you - and, I hate to tell you this, but the decision was to support Dean.

“If it makes you feel any better, if ever something like this would happen between Sam and me, I already know the Winchesters would choose Sam over me - unless Sam was the one to do something completely stupid.”

Castiel sagged back against the couch cushions, he felt Jessica’s calm words as though they were punches to the gut. He understood what she was telling him; the Winchester family had logically chosen Dean over him, regardless of Cas’ predilection for speaking without thinking. It was now up to Castiel to make amends.

“So what do I do know?” Castiel asked, hoarsely. “How do I fix this? How can I prove that I am in this for the long haul? I don’t want to hurt Dean again; I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Jessica looked thoughtfully at Castiel, she was no longer twirling her hair, but her unwavering gaze made the older man feel his own anxiety.

“I don’t think this is going to be easy, Castiel,” she answered softly. The use of his full name made Cas cringe somewhat. It had been a long time since any of the Winchester clan had addressed him so formally - they had quickly adopted Dean’s colloquial nickname for him.

Seeing that Castiel deflated somewhat at her comment, Jess hastened to continue. “I’m not saying it is going to be impossible, but I don’t want you to think everything is going to sunshine and roses the next time we all get together. Sam is pissed, and it is taking everything I can think of just to keep him from coming over here and ripping out your lungs through your testicles.”

Castiel winced at Jess’ description. Sam normally is a mild mannered giant, it took a lot to make him upset, but if you crossed that line, he was six-foot-five of solid aggression. He had seen other people cross Sam over the years and was glad he wasn’t in their position, but now he was and he wanted to fix that - for Dean’s sake, as well as his own. Castiel had valued his friendship with Sam, he viewed the younger man as the little brother he never had. The fractured relationship between the two weighed heavily on his heart.

“I think Sam will come around eventually,” Jess reiterated. “I think it just will take time. Sam just needs to see you aren’t going to hurt Dean again. It is going to take some time to build his trust back. But, I think if he is reminded of how much you love Dean and how happy you make his brother, that it will soften his resolve and he will come around. You just will need to be patient.”

“I don’t want to come between the two of them,” Castiel almost whispered, giving voice to one of his greatest fears. “I don’t want to be the cause of discord between the two of them. Plus, I know if push comes to it, Dean will choose Sam over me.”

Jessica rose from her chair and came to sit next to Cas for the first time all evening. She placed a slim hand over top of Castiel’s much larger hands.

“Dean loves Sam, but never doubt that Dean loves you, too,” she said kindly. “It would hurt Dean to push Sam out of his life, but you are his world. I see the way my macho brother-in-law looks at you, it is every cliched movie plot in the world, I can practically see the hearts and flowers appearing over his head. So, yes, Dean loves Sam and wants to keep his brother in his life, but he wants you there, too, and he will work to make the two of you get along again.”

Impulsively, Castiel reached out and pulled his (hopefully) future sister-in-law into a warm embrace. He felt the resistance and tension in her shoulders at first, but after a second or two, she wrapped her arms around his narrow shoulders and squeezed him tight.

“I should get going,” she said, pulling away after a moment. “It’s getting late, and I don’t want to keep you from whatever you had planned for the evening.”

Not wanting to explain he had nothing planned, Castiel rose and escorted her to the door to say their goodbyes. He needed some time to think over what all Jessica had told him.

“I’m glad you came over tonight, Jess,” Castiel said, honestly. “I appreciate you explaining everything to me, and at least being open to give me another chance.”

Jessica smiled at him, genuine warmth lighting her eyes for the first time that evening. “You are good for Dean,” she replied simply.

“I am sure I will see you soon,” Castiel said, opening the solid oak door for the petite blonde. “Please drive safely.”

Jessica walked out the door, but turned around sharply once she was across the threshold.

“Oh, Castiel,” she said, no humor evident in her voice. “I love Dean as though he were my brother. Don’t think that just because I am here, I am fully okay with everything, either. I am willing to give you a chance, because us non-Winchesters-by-birth need to stick together. But, never doubt that if you ever hurt him again, or do something stupid like this again, it won’t be Sam you will have to worry about. I am a nurse, and I know exactly where to hide the body - Benny and I already have discussed it.”

Castiel swallowed nervously at that, he didn’t doubt that behind her angelic exterior that Jessica Moore Winchester was a force to be reckoned with.

“Have a good rest of your night,” she said with a final flip of her hair, as she descended the steps to walk toward her car.

Watching to make sure she made it safely to her car, Castiel quickly closed and locked the door behind him.

Yes, he definitely was going to need a drink.