[something more]
ao3.
Dean never wants to go to hunter gatherings.
First, because they don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to meeting other hunters, and second, because whenever they go there's always people looking at them like they’re freaks. He knows they tell all sorts of stories about them and some are hard, ugly truths that Dean would rather stop thinking about for the rest of his life.
But he's got a text from Carol while he was about to get in the car after wrapping up a case, and Sam asked who it was, so it had become a Thing to discuss.
And Dean’s main argument was “Why would we go?”, but Sam’s was “Why not?”, which was objectively stronger. And it got worse because from the backseat Jack kept interjecting with, “Go where?” and, “Who are these people?” until Sam paid attention to him and explained that hunters meet up sometimes to “get a drink, exchange stories”, and that had made him light up like a Christmas tree because Jack loved stories and the idea of expanding his pool of knowledge on hunting and creatures appealed to him greatly.
So the fact that Dean had tried to point out that, “This is stupid. We are hunters, not a book club,” had sorted no effect whatsoever. No, instead, Jack had said, “That sounds nice. We should go,” and when Dean had met Cas’ eyes in the rear view mirror, all he had offered was a shrug.
Typical.
It’s not that Dean wants to be a hermit or something, but he always feels like he needs to be wary of who’s gonna be at these sorts of things because some may treat them like Hollywood stars, but some may want to shoot them on sight. Anyone could come up to them and call them out for starting the end of the world, letting monsters out of Hell and Purgatory, cosmic beings out of their cages, getting their family killed, destroying their lives.
And there’s also this: are they really ready for Jack’s debut in society? Sam thinks they are. He thinks it’s a great opportunity to show that the community doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’s with them now and he’s not going anywhere so they should get used to that. Cas says he’ll be there to intervene in case things go south and Dean’s mind flashes with Carol’s house burning to the ground after Cas’ has gone all mama swan on the hunters. He meets Sam’s eyes briefly and it looks like he had the exact same images playing in front of his eyes, “I’m sure it won’t be necessary," he adds quickly.
So Sam wanted to go and Jack wanted to go and Cas didn’t seem to be able to say no to the kid even if he tried, so Dean had to bite his cheek and wake up early the next morning to drive across the state.
At least it’s a nice day, at least it stopped raining and the sun is breaking in from the clouds; the chilly air that comes in from the window that Cas is in the habit of keeping rolled all the way down brings in the pleasant smell of wet leaves.
Dean feels his knees bumping on the back of his seat from time to time and looks at him in the rear view mirror and Cas sometimes catches his eyes and sometimes he doesn’t.
At least they are spending time together. It’s rare for Cas to stay around after a hunt these days. He doesn’t need the down time they require, or so he says. He gets bored in the bunker, starts climbing the walls the second the door closes behind them. He gets restless, and then there’s Heaven and always bigger things to deal with, and Dean imagines that that beats staying behind to play foosball with him and Jack.
Going on hunts with Cas is always fun, but it’s also a run against time and there’s death and guns and fear involved, even when it’s an easy-peasy salt-and-burn. And it’s the four of them crammed in a motel room, so they don’t get much time to be alone. And Dean likes when they are all together, but likes it more when Sam and Jack disappear in the maze of the bunker and he gets to have his best friend all for himself.
That is why Dean had been pleased when Cas had expressed his intention of staying with them for a couple more days. In that moment Dean had been busy keeping his lunch in his stomach - he’d just found the shredded skin of a shapeshifter in a freaking kitchen drawer - but he’d heard him loud and clear all the same.
They were moving about in the victim’s house looking for clues and talking about other stuff, when Cas had said something along the lines of, “I could work on it once we go back to the bunker,” and Dean had asked, half distracted, “So you’re going back with us?” and Cas had his back turned and Dean had opened the drawer in that moment, but he'd heard him when he’d said:
“I guess.”
It was barely a whisper but it meant yes, that’s all that mattered. And it also meant, from Dean’s perspective, a really nice weekend, that included, not in order of importance: his hot dog pants, driving around with the music up, Dean’s cave and Cas.
So, yeah, if Dean was completely honest with himself – something that he generally tried to avoid – it’s not like he wanted to waste a whole day of that to go spend it with a bunch of strangers.
But it doesn’t matter now, because they’ve piled up in the Impala and driven to Carol’s.
Dean likes her. She spent half her life working at a bank, but after crossing path with a djinn she hanged her suit, moved out of the city and created a safe place for hunters, soon becoming a beacon in the community in Kansas. Her door is always open, as she said that one time they met her on a case. Dean likes her for no-nonsense ways, her honest looks and, not less importantly, her amazing sandwiches.
Carol fusses over him and Sam in the hall, scolds them for taking so long to visit when they live in the same state, then Sam makes the introductions, and it’s only his shifting a little from side to side that betrays his nervousness.
Her eyes focus on Cas and her expression speaks of wonder and surprise.
“The angel Castiel,” she calls him and he nods, “a long way from Heaven.”
“The weather here is nicer,” he says, and Dean snorts softly next to him.
Jack wins her over immediately with his wide smile and polite hand shake, “I look forward to exchanging stories,” he says and she huffs a laugh and says:
“Sure, Jack. We heard a lot about you. I bet everyone will be eager to talk to you.”
On the other side of Cas, Sam gets more fidgety; he says, “If you think uh – we don’t want any trouble.”
But she shakes her head and gestures dismissively. “Nonsense. No one will start trouble if they don't wanna see the end of my rifle. A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” she reassures him. “Plus, Eileen vouched for him.”
“Sh-she is here already?” Sam almost chokes up and all of the sudden he seems to have grown a few inches taller.
Dean understands now. He pieces together his insistence in coming to this thing, his bouncing knee throughout their journey, the way he checked his phone more or less forty-five times. He feels slightly less bad about having caved in. There are a lot of things that Dean would give up for Sam, and things that he would conjure out of thin air just for him to have, if he could. But there’s so much he can’t give him and he wants Sam to just get out and take, have and enjoy. So if he wanted to come here just to meet Eileen again, Dean’s happy to be complicit.
Sam is the first to disappear in the packed living room, with Jack following right behind, but Dean grabs Castiel’s elbow before he can take another step. He circles him to block him from the entrance and says, “Hey, stick with me, alright? Last time I was at one of these things this guy Norman talked about his knife collection for three hours.”
“But, Jack…”
“He’s with Sam, he’s gonna be fine,” says Dean, dismissing. He grins, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people; don’t you wanna make friends?”
Cas makes a face but doesn't say anything else. Apparently Jack is not the only one who he seems unable to refuse something to and that makes Dean feel good. He trails after him around the room as Dean stops to say hello from familiar face to familiar face.
There’s Max and Alicia, sprawled on a couch, nursing the worst hangover Dean’s seen in a long time. They say they're happy to see him, but then they eye Cas up and down and Max says something along the lines of, “Oh, I see now why you keep him hidden from us," and that prompts Dean to quickly move along.
Then they bump into this old man who claims to have been one of the patrons of the Roadhouse. Dean has no idea who he is, but he swears he remembers him from when he was a boy - of course he remembers, and hey, if he needs anything, did he know that he was retired but still kept an eye out for monster sightings, and did he hear of that one time he and Bill Harvelle -
Dean tries to nod and smile appropriately for the whole time and when they finally manage to escape him, Cas leads him to an empty corner where they can take refuge.
"I didn't think there would be this many people," Cas says, surveying the room clearly looking for Jack.
Dean elbows him and points at where the kid is talking animatedly to two young hunters he's never seen, "What is he even talking about?"
"Our last case."
"Wh-? Oh, right, I always forget you have the superhearing," then he has a thought and adds, "Hey, you gonna tell me if you hear someone talking shit about me, right?"
Cas' eyebrows raise in thinly veiled amusement and that's all the answer Dean needs, "What? Who?" he asks, outraged.
But Cas doesn't have time to answer before they get interrupted and soon surrounded by hunters Dean's seen on the road, worked with, heard about. Some share their epic tales of escapes from impossible dangers, some are curious and some are brave and blunt and they ask Cas questions and address him without fear and Cas is polite and just a tiny bit awkward.
It gets a little chilly when this guy with too many beers in starts bragging about how he knows all about angels' weaks spots. Cas' face stays as stony as it gets for the whole time but then he says “I suggest you check your sources,” with a deep voice that runs a shiver down Dean’s spine, and he’s not even the one who’s directing his intense gaze at.
There are so many different people that Cas doesn't stick out like a sore thumb, and Dean finds himself thinking that if they were just two regular hunters in a crowd and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.
He almost sighs of relief when he eyes Eileen on the other side of the room and steers Cas towards her.
"I can't believe I still haven't had a single beer," he mutters as they elbow their way through the crowd. Sam hovers around her with a timid smile plastered on his face that doesn’t seem to take any breaks.
Dean hugs her and tries not to follow Cas’ movement with the corner of his eyes when he senses him stepping away from his side.
Eileen calls his attention back. She makes fun of him saying, “Sam told me you didn’t want to come. Getting too old to leave the house?”
“Very funny,” Dean says.
“Next time we can organize something at the bunker. There’s so much space," she says, smirking.
Dean thinks 'Yeah, no way' and says, “Yeah, no way,” and she laughs.
“But you,” Dean adds, “you can come stay with us. Anytime. For as long as you want. We would love to have you. Me, Sam,” he says wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has his brother close his eyes in embarrassment, “you’re always welcome.”
“Thank you,” she signs, blushing a little, “I’ll try to come by.”
Dean is glad to know that. She has opened a door in Sam’s life that he probably thought closed forever and Dean will always be grateful to her for that. Also, she is a badass and totally out of his brother’s dorky league.
Cas comes standing by his side again and Dean feels a gentle touch on the small of his back. It's intimate and unexpected so he steps away immediatly almost on instict and Cas' drops his hand. He meets his gaze and they frown at each other for a second. Cas seems about to say something, but then goes back to sporting his usual face, “I think I saw Claire. I’m going to find her.”
So Dean, with that spot on his lower back still tingling, follows him out of the room and into another where there’s only a few scattered hunters and Jack, happily squeezed on a couch with his new friends, his mouth hanging open as he hears a story from this guy named Ronnie that Dean knows for a fact only talks shit. The kid seems to be having fun though, he waves at them as move along.
They find Claire in the empty white kitchen, and catch her right when she’s about to open herself a beer. Her eyes widen in panic but she doesn’t manage to hide the bottle behind her back fast enough.
“Hey guys,” she says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t know you were going to be here.”
Dean stretches out a hand without a word and she drops the act, sighs and hands it over. Before she can say anything else, Cas steps between them, "Claire, it's nice to see you," he says and she lets him squeeze her into a hug.
Pressed against his shoulder, Dean sees her face change expression, her body slightly relax in his arms. She pats him on the back and says: “Good to see you too, Cas.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Just passing through,” she replies, putting on airs, “Finished up a job a few miles north. I thought I’d drop by Carol’s before moving on.”
She flips a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder and Dean scoffs.
“So you are in Kansas, and you don’t call, and you drop by Carol’s? Were you even planning on stopping by the bunker?”
She rolls her eyes at him, “I go where the job takes me, Dean. I don’t make plans.”
Dean rolls his eyes in the exact same way, “Right. Well, you know it wouldn’t kill you to stay with us for a while. We could get you a bit of training.”
She groans as if she's heard that same speech about a thousand times, but Cas cuts off whatever she was going to retort with and says, “We weren’t planning on coming either. Sam and Jack are here too.”
“Jack’s here?” she lights up. She says she's heard all sorts of things about him and she can’t wait to meet the kid and of course she’s gonna go easy on him, it’s not like she’s gonna eat him, Jesus, Dean, protective much?
Dean frowns at her but she’s already halfway out of the room. “I can be his big sister. I mean, he should have someone he can talk to. Living with you three must be – a lot.”
“Hey,” protests Dean, but she just laughs and disappears down the hallway.
Dean shakes his head and leans against one of the kitchen counters. Cas does the same against the opposite island. At the end of the narrow passage between the furniture there’s a glass door that gives into the patio and a small garden beyond it.
The door is ajar and fresh air comes in; Cas gets engrossed in watching the pattern the raindrops formed on the glass and Dean gets engrossed in watching Cas. He seems lost in thought and Dean would like to say something but doesn’t want to be annoying. Not today, not when tomorrow he could be gone.
He’ll take this quiet moment instead.
“She’ll be a bad influence on Jack,” he breaks the silence, and that gets him an amused quirk of lips, “But it really would be nice to have her around more often.”
Curiously that has Cas' take his eyes away from the glass and lay his gaze on him. He has his lips pressed in a small smile.
“What?”
“You want people you love around you.”
Dean frowns, “What about it?” he asks, and it comes out sharp and defensive.
Cas shakes his head a little, but there’s a shadow on his face that confuses him: “Nothing, I only meant -" but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because a group of hunters enters the kitchen talking loudly and soon Dean has his vision blocked by half a dozen bodies and he has to press himself against the cabinets to let them through, towards the garden door.
One guy in a baseball cap stops in his track as he sees Dean.
He asks with his eyes wide and stunned expression if he is Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester and Dean is glad that the rest of the group is already out of earshot because he wasn’t in the mood for a meet and greet session. But the guy starts talking about some hunter named Troy, who he has supposedly hunted with a couple of years back. And Dean’s not in a habit of calling people liars but he's pretty sure he'd remember if he had wiped out a nest of fangs with this guy and allegedly taken down five all on his own and went and get steaks and beer afterwards.
He tries to shoot him down gently and say, “Maybe your friend had me confused with someone else,” but the guy’s face falls and tells him Troy has recently passed on the job and this was his favourite story to tell, and he would always tell it, all proud and all.
Dean pats him on a shoulder then.
“You know what, we shouldn’t ruin it for him now, should we? Troy, you say? Of course I remember him,” he says and throws in a wink. The guy beams at him and thanks him and gets a little chocked up because Troy might have been a liar but he swears he was one of the good ones.
The guy invites him to join his friends for a drink but Dean raises his half-empty bottle and says “I’m fine, thanks.”
When the guy walks away, Cas moves to lean on the counter by his side. Dean feels the familiar weight of his arm against his and he wonders if they could pick up the conversation where they left it. But Cas says:
“That was nice of you.”
Dean shrugs looking down at their shoes lined up and for some reason he thinks it’s a funny sight. If they were just two shoe wearing creatures standing side by side and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.
“Doesn't really change my life. And it's a good story,” he huffs a laugh, it comes out bitter, “Better than some of the true ones anyway.”
“I understand what you mean,” says Cas with a sigh and Dean extends his arm to offer him his beer, and even though Cas usually refuses, this time he takes it.
Dean does his best not to follow his hand bringing the bottle to his lips. And he does his best, later, not to wonder if the wetness touching his lips when he drinks is just beer or something else.
If they were just two drinking creatures, sharing a bottle of beer and nothing more, perhaps everything would be easier.
Soon the bottle is empty and Cas says, “I’ll get you another one,” but Dean refuses.
It’s nice there - someone's turned the music on in the other room, but here it's muffled by the walls, and the light is just right to make Cas’ eyes look like sapphires. They don’t need to move.
But then the group of hunters out in the patio erupts in laughter and Cas’ gaze shifts on them and then lingers on the glass door.
Dean feels him slipping from him once again. He sighs, “You wanna go out, check the garden?”
Cas nods and heads out and Dean can’t do anything but follow, past the hunters and the patio. They walk the perimeter of the small square of grass, wet and glistening with old rain. The sun and the clouds draw patches of light on the ground and they move from dark to light to dark again in an irregular rhythm, chasing the warmth of the sunlight and the relief of the shade. Dean feels uncomfortable in both, but there’s no middle line he can walk on.
“Sorry we dragged you here,” he finds himself saying, “You never stick around, and for once that you do, that’s what you get.”
Cas frowns slightly at him, “I stick around,” he protests.
Dean laughs, “You don’t,” he says and although he tries to reign it in with the bitterness, it stills seeps out. Cas’ gaze prompts him to explain himself, “Come on, the minute we’re done with a case you are out of here. I don’t blame you,” he quickly adds cutting off whatever Cas was opening his mouth to say. “I know you don’t like sitting around. Believe me, no one understands that more than I do.”
A long beat passes and then Cas says, “I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want to spend time with you.”
Dean stops in his tracks and Cas stops with him to face him.
Dean shakes his head, “Cas, you don’t have to apologize to me. This is not about me. And I said, I get it,” he shrugs.
Cas doesn’t look at all convinced and Dean doesn’t feel at all convinced either. He knows this is not about his feelings. It’s more like a general way of how things are. It’s a truth, a fact. Sam would say the same.
Sam would. Standing here in the garden with him, Sam would tell him the very same things and wish for the very same things. He’s sure he would. He's not accusing Cas of anything. On the contrary, he’s showing him understanding.
“It’s all the same for me, I swear. I don't care,” he adds, but saying that hurts a little, for some reason he can’t quite determine, and he finds his own frown mirrored on Cas’ face.
“Alright,” he says, sounding profoundly sad and again the same shadow passes on his face.
This is all wrong. What did he do?
“Look, I don’t get what you want me to say. If you wanted to - ” he exhales, angrily, “Just - forget it, let’s go back inside,” he says but as he tries to walk away Cas stops him by his elbow.
“You could ask me.”
He looks unsure, troubled, as if he is not quite certain this is a good idea. Dean breathes out a confused, “What?” that he himself can barely hear.
Cas squares his shoulders, “To stay. You could ask me,” he sounds accusing, and he takes a step forward. His eyes are firm in Dean’s and with his elbow still in his grip, he feels like a hummingbird flapping his wings in the paw of a dragon, “You ask everybody else.”
Dean’s heart starts pounding. He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry.
“I don’t wanna ask you, Cas,” he says, cutting, yanking his arm free of his hold, and it sounds bad, bad, bad to his ears and he can read hurt all over Cas’ face. He needs to explain himself. He takes a breath, says a lame, “I mean, if you don't -”
And then, Dean suddenly understands.
Cas thinks he doesn’t -
He thinks he doesn’t care if he’s around and doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need him.
Dean feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for this. He fights the need to look down. He doesn’t know why this is so hard for him. It’s just Cas. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s Cas. It would hurt ten times more if he were to say no. It’s nothing like with Claire, he asked her for her; it’s nothing like with Eileen, he asked her for Sam. But if he asked Cas, he would be asking for himself, wouldn’t he?
Seeing him walk away anyway would be too much then.
But maybe he wouldn’t.
Cas senses his struggle, “If you want, you can ask me,” he says, coming closer, in his eyes his timeless patience, that gaze that tells him that he is seen, he is known. Cas says: “I will say yes,” and it’s barely more than a whisper but Dean’s brain is a step away from short-circuiting anyway.
He looks away and he doesn’t recognize his own voice when he blurts out a hurried, muttered, nervous, almost angry: “Well, stay, then.”
But then a sunbeam decides to cut through the clouds in that exact moment and has Dean looking up again. The lazy sunlight of an early afternoon shines on Cas’ face. He’s not bothered by the sudden change of light, unlike Dean, who has to squint and bring a hand to his forehead.
Cas’ eyes sparkle like shimmering water when he says, “Okay.”
Dean barely remembers what happens after that. That image gets imprinted behind his eyelids and he can’t stop thinking about it.
He floats through a darts game and a dozen of Carol’s sandwiches. Then there's Jack telling an embarrassing story about him that has people folding in two with laughter, and Claire agreeing on following them back to the bunker only with the promise of destroying him at foosball.
There's Sam introducing him to this lady to work a job together on alledged arachnes activity in Winsconsin and a girl who wants him to debunk some stuff she's heard about them but she doesn't believe (he disappoints her cause they are mostly true) but most importantly, there's Cas' thigh pressed against his when he's sitting and Cas’ shoulder just an inch away when he's standing, and somehow it's different than it was before.
Most of all, he feels lighter than he's felt in ages.
*
Later, as he gets to his car with Sam, he says, “Hey, you know, you were right. It was a little fun,” and his brother looks at him in disbelief.
“Are you kidding me? We came here to meet new people and you spent all your time with Cas.”
Dean shrugs, embarrassed to be called out. “So what? You spent all your time with Eileen,” he says and he regrets it immediately, especially as Sam purses his lips like he’s holding back a laugh.
He nods, “I see your point,” he says diplomatically, stressing the t, before he slips into the passenger seat.
Dean doesn’t look forward in continuing the conversation, crammed in a small space with his ears burning and Sam’s gigantic enquiring eyes on him, thank you very much, so he stays out of the car, his arms crossed on the roof, frowning at himself.
He watches as Cas comes down the little pathway with Jack and Claire. In the orange light of the sunset, Jack turns to ask him something and Cas nods. Typical. At the end of the path they split and only Cas makes his way across the street.
"Jack is riding with Claire," he says as soon as he's within earshot. He sounds like he doesn't think it's a good idea and it's a little funny.
"Relax, we're gonna be right behind them."
Cas seems reassured by that, but it only lasts the time it takes for him to make his way around the car, because even before he can grab the car handle, Claire speeds past them shouting, "See you, dorks." Now he looks truly alarmed.
Dean says, "You up for a ride after we drop Sam off?” and all his worry melts away from his face. He says a soft, “Alright,” and disappears into the backseat.
So when they get to the bunker, Dean doesn't follow Claire’s car to the garage and stops up front, the engine running. Sam looks at him confused, “We’ll be here in an hour,” Dean just says, grateful for the shadows around his face.
Sam is stunned for just a second, then snorts, “Fine guys, I’ll babysit tonight, but next time you gotta ask.”
He gets out and the next moment Cas has taken his seat. He doesn't waste time to pop one of Dean's tapes in the deck as he takes the road again.
Dean rolls his window down and in the night air that ruffles his hair he can smell another storm coming. He turns the music up and meets Cas’ eyes. There’s a smile in there somewhere that mirrors his own.
And - they may not be just two individuals in a car going nowhere and nothing more, and things may not be easy, probably never will, but maybe, Dean thinks, it doesn’t really matter in the end.
