Chapter Text
Castiel Novak was perfectly fine. He lived a privileged life, as far as he was concerned. He was a successful author, and an artist that just so happened to not be struggling. He had loved and lost, been held onto and let go of, and he had learned so many lessons since he left the nest. He was living the dream that he had always wanted for himself, and he knew that most people couldn’t say the same.
None of those lessons or experiences gave him a cheat code on how to cope with seeing Dean Winchester again after locking the memories of him far, far away.
He ran into him at the diner. It was unexpected, but it didn’t rock his world like he used to be afraid of– at first. Until the first few years after college, he was convinced that if he ever saw Dean again that he might curl up and die in his car after running away. He was pleased with his reaction this time, and it was strange to be the collected one after he used to see himself as being so weak when it came to Dean Winchester.
Dean was of course even more gorgeous than ever, because of course even time was kind to him, and Castiel had almost let those green eyes pin him into place like they did over and over again so many years ago, but he noticed how haunted they were. They were eyes that were haunted enough to pluck at Castiel’s heart strings, and send his train of thought chugging along with ideas of what could have happened to him. Was he upset about not being a baseball star? Was he recently heartbroken? Was he out of a job? Suddenly, it became a passion project of Castiel’s to determine what the hell was wrong with Dean.
He went home, he called Gabriel with slightly shaky hands, and Gabe got him to laugh about the whole situation instead of cry. And for a minute, it was funny, and that was all it was. It wasn’t extremely heavy or a dark cloud for just a moment. And then there was that sinking feeling back with a vengeance in Castiel’s gut, one that told him that he ran into Dean for a reason, and that they crossed paths because of something he had no idea of just yet. And he couldn’t shake that thought. Not even with the help of his typed fantasy worlds, or Gabe’s sweet yet striking words.
Weeks later when Dean called him, he wanted to say he was surprised. He was initially, but when he thought back to the look on Dean’s face, like he had come up and slapped him, he knew that they were both affecting each other. It wasn’t hard to guess that he got his number from Sam, and when they met again at the diner, Castiel realized that it was actually a nice reunion. It felt well with his soul.
Until Cas came to the conclusion after sitting with his thoughts that he definitely still had feelings for Dean.
It wasn’t a crush. He was positive that he wasn’t feeling a crush. Crushes were childish, and besides, he had already been with Dean before. He wasn’t wishing for something that was unknown to him or making up scenarios in his mind, writing love letters in a locked journal. He came to the conclusion the night after meeting Dean at the diner that he wasn’t having a crush, he simply just wasn’t as over Dean as he thought he was. And that irritated him.
It was a weird feeling, to be thinking of him again. In all honesty, Cas had left him completely behind as life churned on, and put his face and his voice in the back of his mind, in a shiny box of fond memories that he rarely opened, a collection of memories that made him who he was. He was perfectly fine with that as he fell in and out of love with others and deeper in love with himself, as he went to pride parades and traveled the world and wrote his books. Castiel was complete.
He had no fucking clue why all of a sudden, Dean was his newest fixation.
Well, pause. He knew how Dean became a fixation. Dean was his first love, and he felt the effects of Dean for years after he was gone. He knew exactly how alluring Dean and his charm could be.
But he should have been able to shake him.
Seeing Dean at the diner threw him off for a moment. Dean was handsome, he always had been, but he grew even more into his facial features and frankly, he was perfect. But they were older, and Cas shouldn’t have fallen into those green eyes so easily again. Maybe it was the sadness in them that drew Castiel in like they were each other’s magnets.
He kept telling himself he wanted better for Dean. That was all. They were best friends once upon a time, and it’s normal to want to see someone you know blossom into themselves. But what Castiel knew wasn’t normal was the fact that he definitely wanted to look at Dean’s eyes up close again, and feel his hands, his lips. That wasn’t nostalgia.
“I was over him,” Castiel said on the phone one night to Gabriel, days after he first ran into Dean. He was sure that Gabriel was already tired of having to walk him through the situation, but there wasn’t another person on earth that knew just how intertwined Castiel used to be with Dean. No one but Dean himself, and that surely wasn’t going to work. “I was. And then-”
“And then you saw him, just like in a fairy tale,” Gabe mocked. “I know. That’s not shocking.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You and Dean…” he heard his older brother sigh. “You could always live without Dean. You’re extremely self-sufficient, even when you’re in love. I’ve seen you travel the world and fall in love and break up just as easily, you’ve never needed anyone. Not even him. But I think you saw him, and now you remember that you miss him.”
Gabe was right. Castiel was fine without Dean. He was fine with staying inside, he was content under the light of lamps and with the fan on the ceiling. But there was nothing like walking outside and seeing natural sunlight, and feeling a cool breeze on your arms. There was nothing like the relief of breathing fresh air. And that was what Dean had always been to him. The outside sky. Whether it was sunny and the breeze was making flowers dance in a meadow, or if there were tornados spinning overhead, that was Dean.
“There’s no shame in missing him. You guys had some fun times together, and I really do think that in another timeline it could have worked out. And what did I say? I told you that one day he’d see you again and it would rock his world. And with the way he seems like he really wants to talk to you, I’m pretty sure I’m right. As always.”
Cas rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, but it sounds like he wants to be friends.”
“Well, are you cool with that?” Gabe asked, and there was a distinct sound that Cas recognized as Gabriel smacking on a lollipop. “The can of worms is already open. In fact, it’s been like, exploded, by now. Like a Pillsbury biscuit can. Now, you have three choices.”
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “Three?”
“Yes, three,” Gabriel said teasingly, as if Castiel’s sanity wasn’t on the line. “Option one, you block him right now and turn around every time you see him in public, Sam too,” Gabriel said, and instantly, Castiel recoiled as if he had smelled something awful. “And you never speak to him again. Let the past die. Rest , maybe that’s a better word. Either way, this is something you ignore and don’t revisit.”
He already hated the idea. He had done it successfully for years, and eventually it was all fine and dandy, but to do it again? To do it before he understood what Dean’s angle was? To cut it all off before he got to see Dean’s smile, or his green eyes light up again? To turn around before he knew whether or not dean was dying to relearn him, too? That didn’t sound like much of an option.
“Option two,” Gabe said, smacking again, and Castiel rolled his eyes. “You go for it. You listen to that hopeless romantic that we all know lives inside of you, and you take the blind leap of faith. And when Dean eventually tells you that he got your number from his bigsass little brother because he’s fucking miserable without you, you listen to his groveling and apologies all the way through, and you tell him at the very end of his blubbering that you’ll take him back. And by the end, I mean like, he needs to be close to tears thinking that your answer is still no. He should be at least a little afraid after what he did.”
Cas’s heart was already racing. It was a situation that he wasn’t even in yet, but his stomach was churning. These were exactly the kind of scenarios that he was fighting off, the childish ideations that a kid in middle school would have about their crush. He’s going to come back. He’ll love me. He’ll apologize. This is just a break. He left because he wasn’t sure, but now he is .
“Option three, you take the middle road, the easy way out, and become his friend. But I think you and I both know that the friendship stage won’t last long between you two, given your history. And, if you choose this one, going down this same painful road and choosing which part of the fork to choose will be one hundred percent inevitable.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cassie,” Gabriel said slowly, and it sounded serious. He wasn’t teasing, and that made Castiel sit up a little straighter. “You two are special. I’ve always thought that, even after the stupid bullshit he pulled. I’ve said it a million times, you two cannot be friends. This either crashes and burns and you two end up fucking hating each other, or you two get married.”
Castiel’s eyes went wide. “What?!” He sputtered. “That’s not- those aren’t the only two endings Gabriel, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why do you think you ran into him? Anyone else can see an ex from over ten years ago and be normal about it, by the way. Anyone but you two. There’s too much still here for you two to let it die. Castiel, you write romance novels, you know it either festers into hate or it blossoms into eternal love, or whatever.”
“I write realistic fiction with romance infused elements,” Castiel corrected quickly, his mind still racing. “We can be friends, Gabriel.”
“You can?” He asked.
“I don’t see why not.” The lie went down as easily as a handful of dirt.
“That easy way out leads right back here, Castiel,” Gabriel said ominously. “Right here, every time. This choice will always be right here, lingering in the back of your mind until you decide to be a big boy.”
Part of him knew that Gabriel’s advice made sense. In fact, it made so much sense that it made him feel sick. Castiel was stuck in a hamster wheel of emotions, and so was Dean. They were in the same exact wheel with different perspectives, somehow. Or maybe they were in two different wheels that were positioned right in front of each other, staring at each other between the moving bars and watching helplessly to see who was finally brave enough to step off first. Castile was definitely stuck in a wheel, and he wasn’t sure what he was chasing. He was even less sure of what Dean was after despite the feeling in his gut, and that made him even more terrified.
“Thank you for your insight, Gabriel,” Castiel said, half sarcastic yet half extremely serious in a way that only Gabriel could pick up on.
“Remember your big brother gave you this wonderful advice, Cassie.”
“Alright, Gabe,” Castiel said, putting a hand over his forehead. “Thank you.” And then his brother smacked around candy again and gave some sort of half assed, dismissive goodbye, and then Castiel was all alone with his thoughts again, dwelling on things he thought had been buried years ago.
§
Like almost all of Castiel’s words, the advice about directing his energy toward something he used to love rattled around in Dean’s mind until one day, he went and called the number on the flyer that he picked up on a walk one day like he was in the glory days again, waiting for someone to pick up. It ended up being someone’s ecstatic mother who answered, and she wanted him to come to the very next practice.
At first, Dean hadn’t been sure that he even wanted to do it. There was a lot of commitment that came with being the coach of a team, and on top of that, the season had already begun. He wasn’t used to leading little kids, and he sure as hell wasn’t back in the swing of being on the field. But he showed up anyway, because that poor mom sounded so excited that someone actually wanted to help.
It was great. Dean instantly fell into the coaching role, and he immediately loved the game all over again. The kids were younger than he was when he started to realize the game could take him somewhere, so they were just playing for fun. They were friends just because they were, not because they had to be, and they showed up because they wanted to play, not because they were obligated by some stupid college contract. There was absolutely no reason for any of them to be out there other than to just play the game, and for some reason, that was the best part.
Within no time, Dean had improved the team by the time their first game with him as coach came and went. They didn’t win, but all the kids were excited. It was the closest they had been to getting a win, and some of the kids who had lost hope gained it back. They were happy, and Dean realized how much that mattered.
For a while, between coaching and work and the weekly meetings with Charlie and the gang, he felt busy enough to forget about everything else. His heart didn’t feel completely full, but he felt more occupied than he had been in a very long time, and he could settle for that. He could fill the void with that, and he was doing a good job of living off of a plate that was three quarters full until he saw Castiel on the bleachers one day at a game, sitting there, watching.
It was so reminiscent of the past that it made his stomach hurt for a few moments. He was older now, they both were, but Cas still had that expression on his face where he didn’t know a single thing about what was going on, but he was watching anyway. Supporting in silence, waiting until someone else from their school started clapping, or until Dean grinned wide or pumped his fist. Dean had seen him that way a thousand times. The only thing that was different was the fact that he wasn’t wearing blue or green, sporting their old high school colors.
Dean found it both easy and hard to ignore him. They had already locked eyes, so Castiel knew that he knew, but Dean had a team of kids to coach. The kids had no idea that the biggest regret of his life was sitting there watching, and it wasn’t even close to being their problem. So, he took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves when no one was watching and continued on, coaching through the whole game and jumping up and down with the kids when they won for the very first time.
“I told you guys!” Dean said, and his heart was pumping with that happy adrenaline he had missed so much. “I told you that you guys could do it.”
There was so much chatter around him as some of the kids hugged him and others ran right to their equally excited parents, and for a moment, Dean remembered that this was what life was about. And then he saw dark hair and a familiar frame flash from the side of his line of sight.
Dean was heavily aware of Castiel patiently waiting as he chatted with the parents. Dean was practically giving each parent highlight reels of their kids, reenacting and laughing with them, congratulating the whole team as they drank juice boxes and ate rice krispy treats. When the last parent took a few steps back, and the field was emptier by the second, Dean felt the air shift, and Cas came up beside him.
It was quiet between them for a moment as they smiled at each other, both of their smiles somewhat knowing. “I see you like coaching,” he said, and Dean nodded his head. “I had a feeling you would. You were always good with kids.”
“I think they had fun.” Dean said absentmindedly, squinting to look at Cas, and he noticed that with the way the sun looked behind him that it almost looked like he had a halo.
“They look really happy,” Castiel noted, nodding his head. “They always used to look so sad, and they carried themselves like they doubted themselves. You’ve changed that.”
“Eh, they changed it,” Dean said with a shrug. “It’s all about mindset. And these kids are great,” he said, looking out at the empty field. He could still hear the cheers of the parents and the excited shouts of all the kids, and it made him smile.
When he looked back at Castiel, he saw him still looking with those blue eyes, eyes that spoke three times as much as his lips did, even if the words translated as riddles. It was intense as they stood there, just looking at each other, and finally, Dean looked away.
“Thanks for uh, recommending it to me,” he managed to get out, still looking ahead at the cars speeding past. “I never would have thought of doing it.”
“You’re very welcome, Dean.” More silence, besides the filler sounds of traffic and far away voices. It wasn’t awkward, it was smothering, like both of them were choking on words that wouldn’t ever be said because they were both either too stubborn or too afraid. “Well, it was good to see you, Dean.”
There it was. The “good to see you” struck again, rigging loud in Dean’s ear. Dean rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, you’re welcome to come watch another, if you want.”
Dean saw Castiel’s chapped lips curl upwards, and the twinkle in his eyes, and he knew that he was about to say something smart. “It’s a public field, Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I just mean it wouldn’t be weird if you came, Cas,” he said, letting his sight trail up from Castiel’s mouth and back to his eyes.
Dean was convinced that they exchanged more with their eyes than any other two people in the world did. They were somehow standing closer to each other than they were a few moments ago, or maybe Dean was just hallucinating. That seemed like something he was definitely capable of, especially when it came to Castiel.
“That’s good to know,” Castiel finally said, nodding his head. “Goodbye, Dean.”
“Bye, Cas,” he said, and he watched Castiel raise a hand and wave once, turning on his heel and walking off of the field without a glance back, and Dean wondered if he knew that he was watching him walk away.
Dean did the same in silence, and the second he got back in the car and on the highway, he turned the music up as loud as it could go.
§
Castiel coming to games became a regular thing. It was as regular as Dean’s weekly meetings with the Comic Club, which was smoothly transitioning into a gossip club between them all talking about Kevin and his new crush Chandler, and Charlie and the new girl, Meg. Dean thought Charlie was a little too sweet for Meg, who was charming yet somewhat intimidating, but she was nice nonetheless and it was funny to see Charlie be the one to sweat.
Dean was about to start coaching when a familiar, huge body came walking right up to him without hesitation. “You’re really in your element here.”
“What, are you gonna write mom about it, or something?” Dean asked, turning to Sam, who gave him a look.
“Is it that bad that I want to see you happy?” Sam asked, cracking a smile. “You’re lucky Jess had to work, she would have whipped out her phone and started sending pictures to the family group chat like you’re nine.”
“Thank god she’s not,” Dean muttered, looking at his kids warming up, and then he saw Sam tense up from next to him.
“Um,” Sam said with his eyes wide, “There’s- is that Cas?”
Dean looked over in the direction Sam was looking, even though he knew his brother was right. Castiel wasn’t even sitting down at his normal spot on the bleachers yet, he was still walking the path, but Sam’s eyes were observant.
“Yeah, he’s been coming,” Dean said, and Sam’s eyes went wide.
“He has ? And you didn’t think to bring that up?”
“I told you that we were kinda friends.”
Sam’s entire face changed into a look of betrayal. “You said you two talked! Not that you two are friendly enough for him to be coming to watch your hobbies after work?”
“Hey, shh ,” Dean urged. “Not here.”
Sam leaned in closer with a hushed tone, but all the excitement was still clearly there. “He comes all the time?”
Dean shrugged his shoulders, even though it wasn’t insignificant at all. “Relatively often.”
“Dean,” Sam said, lowering his head in disapproval. “Are you doing this in a healthy-”
“Did you have something important to say, Sam?”
“We’re having dinner with Mom and Dad this Wednesday,” Sam said, glancing at Castiel again. “She called me, and I told her that we’d make it.”
“Doesn’t Jess work on Wednesdays?”
“It’s the only day Dad’s free, so he says,” Sam said, and Dean rolled his eyes. “She’ll come to the next one.”
“Alright. I’ll be there.” Dean shrugged, and gestured. “Go sit down. And don’t- you don’t have to talk to him.”
“Why not?”
Dean knew that the more secretive he got, the more Sam would see it as some kind of code to crack, so he forced himself to loosen up. “You can if you want, just don’t make it weird.”
“I’d never make it weird, don’t worry about me,” Sam scoffed. “Good luck to you and the kids, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, waving him off playfully, and then he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and he knew instantly who it was.
He forced himself to wait for a moment, to wait to turn around, but it didn’t take long at all for him to end up turning his head, looking right toward the one person on earth who he felt could see him from the inside out. He raised a hand as the whistle blew, and he waved to Castiel on the bleachers. Cas waved back, and Dean smiled, turning around and beaming at the little faces looking back up at him expectantly.
“Let’s play this game, guys.”
§
Dinner was never formal at their house, especially not now that they were all older. His mom still cooked, his father still sat and looked at everyone like he was judging, but it was mostly the same. Dean felt like he was fifteen again every time he sat down at the table to have dinner with his parents, and this time was no different.
It was a simple dinner, some chicken, rice, and broccoli. Dean was scarfing it down, and Sam was eating politely, but their mother was looking between each of them with amusement interchangeably, like watching them was some form of television.
“So boys,” Mary said, “is there anything new with you two?”
“Well,” Sam said, looking at Dean for a split second, and with the look in his eyes, Dean knew exactly what his brother was going to say. He almost opened his mouth to protest. “Dean’s been hanging out with Castiel.”
“ Really ?” His mom practically gasped, and Dean glared at Sam. “You reconnected with Cas?”
“Yeah, just a little,” Dean said nonchalantly, even though he could feel his heartbeat in his chest. “We’re back to being friends.” Dean cut a look at his dad, who was much more focused on his chicken than their chatter at the table.
“Friends?” His mom asked, and it almost sounded like she was disappointed to hear it. The spark in her eyes dimmed just the slightest, and Dean frowned a bit.
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, looking her up and down, trying to see if he was imagining the joy washing away from her face. “We’re friends again.”
“Yeah, if friends typically gaze longingly at each other from different sides of the baseball diamond,” Sam joked, and Dean’s heart dropped. If Sam had made that joke at a regular dinner between them and Jessica, Jess would have rolled her eyes lovingly at him, telling him off gently, and Dean would have only been mildly annoyed. But it wasn’t even close to being a regular weekly dinner. At all.
Mary gave him a knowing look, but Dean’s heart jumped in his chest when he saw his dad’s eyes drift over to him, blinking almost lazily. Like Sam hadn’t just said something that changed everything.
“What are you talking about, Sam?” John finally asked after a few moments of silence, and suddenly, it felt like they were all twenty years younger sitting at the kitchen table after one of them accidentally slipped up, blurting out something they were keeping secret out of fear of punishment. Dean locked eyes with his brother, who already looked apologetic, but there was nothing they could do.
“I’m friends with Castiel Novak from highschool again,” he said, “nothing special.”
“Castiel?” His dad repeated with his eyes just a little wider, and then, to Dean’s absolute surprise, he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I could have guessed that earlier.”
Dean forced himself to breathe through the adrenaline, and he pretended that the breath he managed tot take it wasn’t shaky. “Guessed what?”
“That ‘friend’ is the code word for boyfriend again,” John sighed gruffly, and a Castiel-sized lump sat in Dean's throat. “Could ya pass me more rice, Mary?”
Dean Winchester’s world was on standby. It was on complete hold as everyone else kept moving around cautiously, like they were all waiting for the other shoe with the patriarch of the table to drop. He could see Sam lag for a moment, and that brought him comfort only because he knew he hadn’t imagined the quick exchange. The shoe was hanging in the air, hanging by one lace as it threatened to crash into the bowl of rice, but it didn't as John spooned more food onto his plate.
John Winchester didn’t care.
It wasn’t that Dean had ever thought he would be disowned for liking men. That was never his impression. But he certainly didn’t expect for his father to react like they were talking about the weather. He was sure that he was in store for a few dirty looks, maybe even an unsavory comment or two before he got used to the idea, but there was nothing. Nothing at all even as Dean held his breath and waited for him to say something around his mouthful of chicken and rice.
Nothing ever came.
And then Dean was sent back into his own mind, his personal jail cell that had bars with gaps so wide he could have slipped out at any time, and apparently, no guards waiting outside of the walls of the prison.
There were no roadblocks left. Society didn’t care. His coworkers wouldn’t think twice. The people he would never see on the street again didn’t give a damn,and the parents at baseball wouldn’t question a thing. There was no team full of college boys who he was scared of being outcast from, and now, not even his father would give him any shit. There was absolutely nothing holding back Dean Winchester from being himself.
And that was as terrifying as it was freeing.
“Well, that was great mom, thank you,” he heard Sam say politely, and Dean was tossed out of his own thoughts just like that, and he blinked up from his half eaten dinner and nodded his head robotically, thanking his mom. Everyone had finished their dinner, and he wondered how long they had allowed him to just stare off into space.
“Really good,” he agreed, “um, I have an early morning. I have work,” he explained weakly, and his mother nodded at him sympathetically, but he knew the sympathy had nothing to do with the fact that he had to wake up early.
“I should head out too,” Sam said, and Dean could have clapped with joy. Maybe if they walked out together, he could hide behind Sam’s big ass body. “It was really good though, thanks for having us over.”
Fuck hiding. He wanted to run. Dean couldn’t get out of the chair fast enough. He practically scrambled up from the table as everyone else moved at a normal pace, hardly able to look at his dad. He hugged his mom and grabbed his car keys and phone off of the counter, and when he got to the front door, his father was already waiting for him.
“Castiel, huh?” John said, and Dean swallowed.
“Yep.”
“Hm." And for a moment, that was all that there was. They were both standing by the front door, face to face, and Dean could feel his father’s gaze on him, like he was examining him from head to toe, looking for any cracks in his exterior.
“He was always good to you,” John said, sipping his beer. “Don’t be an asshole, Dean.”
Dean nodded his head twice, his head bobbing like a buoy in the ocean. “Of course not.”
“Hm,” John grunted again, and he opened the front door. “I’ll see ya, Dean.” There was a pause. “Love ya, son.”
The lump in his throat got ten times bigger, and Dean couldn’t do anything more than whisper the words back as he practically jogged out of the front door, his hand over his heart, trying to stop it from bursting in his chest.
§
Dean’s Tuesday was monotonous. It was the same as normal, crunching numbers and talking to clients. The only thing different was Arthur Ketch’s very brief presence. He was a fellow that could have easily been written off as stuck up, but after speaking to him a few times, Dean realized he wasn’t the worst.
“I saw you at the kid’s baseball diamond this weekend,” Ketch had said, standing over his desk. “You coach little league?”
“I do,” confirmed Dean, typing away. “It’s fun. Cute.”
“That’s nice,” Ketch said, “and who’s that dark haired fellow who was standing really close to you?”
That made Dean stop. “Huh?”
“There was a man in a long coat, a trench coat maybe? I assume you two were friends, but I didn’t recognize him.”
“Uh,” Dean said, blinking up at him. “He’s an old friend. You wouldn’t know him.”
Ketch narrowed his eyes. “Friend?”
“How long were you sitting at the light for?” Dean asked somewhat jokingly, but he also wondered how close they must have been standing for Ketch of all people to question what was going on.
“A while. It’s a lengthy light,” was all Ketch said before getting distracted by something else, walking away. “Until next time.”
And for a few minutes, all Dean could think about was the fact that someone had seen him and Cas, and looked at them for long enough to suspect something. And then, as he remembered his father’s shrugs and his mother’s sweet smile, he found that he truly didn’t care.
The rest of the day passed by quickly. He said goodbye to his boss and his coworkers like it was any other day, but instead of just walking down to his car, he shrugged his shoulders and started to walk down the semi-busy street.
The noises of the city were somewhat grounding to Dean. Honking horns, people laughing, high heels clicking, chimes above doors swinging in the wind. It all reminded Dean that there was so much more, and that nothing mattered. In a good way. For the first time in a long time, nothing mattered to Dean in a good way.
Dean was walking past a coffee shop when the door swung open, and he stepped back only to see a familiar, curly head of blond hair.
“Oh, hey, Dean,” Jessica said, and Dean smiled at her. “How are you?”
“I’m doing good, just heading home after this.” He saw Sam walk out of the coffee shop door, too, waving to him casually.
“Hey, I saw on Facebook that a familiar face is having a little art exhibit,” Jessica said, and Dean perked up. “It was actually really good. He’s talented.”
“I should go.” And then, Jessice beamed, like that had been her intention.
“Yeah, Dean,” she said, nodding her head. “You really should.”
“She still has game, even after all this time,” Sam said slyly, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the two. They were so in love that it was damn near gross. “She’ll help you get him back.”
The smile slipped off of Dean’s face, and he nodded his head. “Thanks, guys. Jess,” he amended, and then he nodded back to the way he came, deciding it was time to get in the car and go home. “I’ll see you guys around.”
Dean got home quicker than usual, and he wasn’t sure if he was absentmindedly speeding or if he was off in his own mind during the drive. Either way, he went into his apartment and kicked off his shoes, intent on eating a quick smashburger and sitting on the couch. He made dinner with thoughts bouncing around in his head, and he found himself logging onto Facebook and looking up events in the area, and sure enough, there was a photo of Castiel’s smiling face and some of his art, and there was an exhibit on Saturday.
His heart raced as he thought about showing up. He knew he had to show up just like Cas did for him, but he wondered why he never mentioned it. Did Cas not want him there? Would his presence kill the mood? Or did he never bring it up because he thought Dean wouldn’t show anyway? Dean didn’t like any one of those answers, and he knew then and there that he absolutely had to be at the art show, and that the reaction was something to worry about later.
He was going to the damn art show.
§
Dean felt sick. He was all dressed, business casual, looking at himself in the mirror as the clock ticked down. He didn’t want to be too early. He wanted to slink into the crowd, walk through and look at the art, show his face a little, and leave Cas to be happy.
He drove to the exhibit hall in silence. Not even Metallica could calm him down as he sat in stop and go traffic, breathing shakily as he let his anxiety run wild. He ignored the call from Sam, and the text that came after, and when he parked in the lot, he rubbed his hands onto his pants. The lot was pretty full, which made him happy. He was glad Castiel was having a good turn out. His work deserved to be seen.
He got out of his car on his bowed legs, and forced himself to confidently walk up to the front door. He took a deep breath before he pulled it open, and he was met with small swarms of people walking everywhere, stopping to look at certain pieces. His eyes trailed all around as he looked for Castiel, hoping to spot him first. When he didn’t he walked further into the room, quietly bouncing from exhibit to exhibit.
It was all beautiful. It was all so effortlessly Cas, and Dean felt his heart pump harder as memories swirled. It was so nostalgic but so fresh all the same, and he was glad that he was alone as he looked at every single painting and sculpture there. It felt almost holy to look at after so long, and he resisted the urge to put his hand by his chest, as if that would help his soul from trying to burst out of his body.
He was busy looking at a painting of Castiel himself, a self-portrait of him with beautiful angel wings, when the soft music playing changed, and instantly, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck perked up when he recognized the first note.
Every breath you take
He looked up slowly at hearing Sting’s voice, and he could feel his heartbeat in his fucking fingers as he tried to seem relaxed, scanning the room for someone he knew was already there. He had been spotted, and this was Castiel’s response.
He found him easily. He was standing alone at a distance away, close enough so that Dean could see his expression. He looked surprised, but he didn’t look upset. He didn’t look like he was upset at all, and Dean knew that if he had changed the song to their song, he couldn’t have hated him for showing up. Still, he swallowed thickly, and like a scared kid on the first day of kindergarten, he raised his hand and waved.
Castiel smiled, and he waved back.
Like a boy with a crush, Dean turned back around with flushed cheeks and looked back at the painting, focused on the wings. He felt someone come up behind him, like a change in the energy, and he took a deep breath as he prepared himself.
Castiel slid into his line of sight, and Dean had no choice but to look at him. He was dressed like an artist, casual clothing and with stars in his eyes. “You came,” Castiel said, and Dean shrugged.
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Do you, uh,” Cas said, gesturing toward the hall, “do you like any of it?”
“It’s all beautiful. I still think you should open up a museum with only your works-”
“You’re still the ultimate flatterer, aren’t you?”
The charmer. The flirt. The playboy. That was him, but it wasn’t anymore. He knew that Cas knew that, but it didn’t sit well with him, and that started to interact with every other negative thought in his head, and he suddenly couldn’t live with the feeling in his gut.
“Cas,” Dean said slowly, and his heart raced in his chest as he saw Castiel’s blue, all-knowing eyes looking back at him. Like he still knew Dean’s every tell, his every gesture, his every thought. As if there was no time between now and graduation, like they had missed only seconds instead of years. “I… you were right. All those years ago.”
“About what, Dean?”
Dean felt faint. Out of all times, of course Castiel chose then to play dumb, like he couldn’t read Dean easier than a book he had memorized. “A long time ago you told me that… I was only hurting myself. By not accepting myself.”
“Oh,” Castiel said, and for a moment, Dean wondered if that was all Cas had to say. That was all he had to say after Dean had mulled over those thoughts and forced himself to say the words? One syllable? “I was hoping that you would eventually come to that conclusion.”
Dean nodded his head once. “And this isn’t- this isn’t me begging for sympathy, or pity. I know what I did to you back then. I know, and I’m still sorry.”
“Sorry about the incident in the club with the girl?” A woman passed between the two of them, yapping about something unrelated as she reunited with the people she came with.
He was. God knew that he was, but he knew that Cas knew why he had been with her in the first place. Even when it first happened, Castiel knew. God, Castiel was always so fucking smart. He was more mature than most adults when they were just in school, and it seemed that his wisdom had only grown from then. Castiel knew that Dean leaving him and being an absolute horn dog wasn’t a fault on his part. He knew that Dean had something else going on, something internal that he couldn't fix for him. And even as a brand-new adult, instead of getting mad, Castiel had felt sorry for him. Sorry for him, despite the fact that he was the one who was hurt.
The guilt was overwhelming. It was a tsunami, and Dean’s legs were tied and bound to something he couldn’t see. The wave was coming, and Dean couldn’t do anything but brace himself and hold his breath. “I’m sorry that I killed what we had.”
Dean was trying not to breathe heavily as he watched Castiel look at him, hardly blinking his pretty, blue eyes. They were ripping the breath from him again, spinning his thoughts into sounds and forcing them right out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry that I let my own thoughts get between us. Paranoia, immaturity, denial, it was so many things. And I… I guess I’m finally saying sorry. Because you… you had it together. I didn’t. I dragged you down. I got you caught up in all of my shit, and you were a casualty in me hating myself and not understanding. And you didn’t deserve that, at all. So, I’m sorry.”
To his credit, Castiel didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look like he wanted to say “I told you so” either, and that was a win in Dean’s book, but it was still gnawing away at him. Maybe a little less, but his bones still felt like wood, and the exterminator hadn’t quite gotten rid of all the termites.
“The last time you saw me, I was macking on some girl in the club-”
“That’s not the last time I saw you, Dean.” Castiel said. “I went to your home game. The last game you played.”
Dean swallowed. He would have surely seen Castiel back then if he was there, right? He used to be able to feel those blue eyes on him like he was prey being hunted in the wild. He used to be able to feel his touch from miles away.
“No, you weren’t,” he said, as if he could have scanned the entire stadium for him and counted him out.
“I was. I watched the whole thing. You hit a homerun in the last inning. You won the game for the team. You were so happy that day, and your team lifted you up just like you were in a movie-” Cas mused, “and that was the last time I saw you.”
“You went?”
“Of course I went, Dean,” Castiel said, and it almost sounded like a snap, “I knew you cared about it. Of course I showed up.”
Dean’s heart was racing, and his mind wasn’t doing much better. He knew that they were talking about something that wasn’t going to be brought up again. Their rights and wrongs of the past were going to be buried, and he knew that the moment where he could bare his soul and confess was about to leave, and he wasn’t sure when he was going to get another chance. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to wait for another chance.
“Can we just- get some ice cream or something?” Dean blurted, and for the first time, Cas looked like he had been thrown for a loop.
“Get ice cream ?” Castiel echoed back, almost like he thought it was a prank, and Dean shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s either that or I tell you that I don’t think I ever stopped being in love with you, Cas,” Dean rushed out, and before he could even start to take it back, his mouth started running like Baby's motor. “I fucked up. I know it. You know it. Fuck, everyone who knows us knows it. I’m not trying to fix it because I feel bad or because I’m guilty, I’m trying to fix it because I know that you’re my person. You always have been, and I’m just an idiot.”
For a moment, Cas just stood there, and Dean was full of everything from regret to relief, and then he saw Cas’s face break out into a smile. A low chuckle filled the air between them, and then Cas’s blue eyes were looking up at him.
“How about you help me clean up when it’s time, and we’ll see about the ice cream?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”
And for the first time in a long time, everything actually felt like it really was perfect.