Twist and Shout

Chapter 6

"Chapter 6"

December, 1969
-
They'd read about it in the paper, of course. Everyone had read about it. It came right before Christmas, and Cas stared at the headline, unblinking, before moving on into the kitchen. Dean flipped to the weather instead, complaining about the cold while Cas put coffee on.
"Put on another sweater, because I'm not turning the heat up," Cas said, refilling Dean's mug, "we can't afford it right now."
Dean snorted, turning another page.
"The draft's tomorrow," he commented, and Cas nodded, stirring sugar into his own cup.
"We'll have to watch, I guess," he replied.
"Guess so." The page rattled as Dean straightened it out."Can't believe it's going to get that cold on Saturday. They've got to be kidding..."
Cas watched the milk swirl into the coffee, turning it a toffee brown.
"Is it really December first tomorrow? Feels like it was Thanksgiving just yesterday," he muttered, brow furrowing. No matter.
"It's going to snow early this year," Dean continued, "that's what I think."
"You've been saying that for almost four years, Dean, and every year you're wrong," Cas remarked, still stirring absently. Dean looked up from the table.
"You poisoning me or something?" His laugh broke Cas' thoughts, and he brought the coffee to him, sliding it across the table. Dean's eyes didn't stray from the paper as he drank, skirting his teeth along the edge of his teeth.
"You want any toast?" Cas asked, and Dean shook his head.
"No, I'm fine."
Cas nodded and drank his own coffee, wool socks slipping around the legs of his chair as he curled his feet. "Tips should be good. It's December, so remember to be nice and say happy holidays," he teased, Dean raising his eyebrow, still reading.
"It's wrong," Cas said all of a sudden, face getting hot. "It's wrong of them to do this."
"There's nothing we can do about it," Dean said gently, still not looking up. "So don't get all worked up. There's nothing we can do."
"We can, if they'd only listen for half a second and realize we're not doing any good over there," Cas continued, hand clenching around his coffee mug. Dean shook his head.
"Cas, please. Not now."
"I don't like it. I don't like it at all," Cas whispered, and Dean sighed, folding the paper up and slapping it down on the table.
"Nothing is going to happen," Dean tried to console, but Cas frowned.
"You don't know that!" he snapped, and Dean glared at him for a moment before his face softened.
"Let's go out for dinner," he said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject, and Cas groaned, thinking of the medical school applications he still had to fill out.
"Do I really have to get dressed?" he grumbled, hunching his shoulders, and Dean laughed, standing up and ruffling his hair.
"Come on, you've been moping around for days. Let's go out."
"I don't feel like it," Cas muttered, but Dean was already out of ear-shot. He touched the newspaper and turned it around so the headline was facing him. He stared at it for a while and then flipped it over, rubbing his face tiredly. Maybe he was coming down with something.
He sat in the silence, listening as Dean walked around in their bedroom, the closet door opening and closing, the heavy footfalls meaning that Dean had put his boots on. Cas was lost in his thoughts, his hand moving over the newspaper before coming back to curl his fingers around his coffee cup. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Dean leaning over to kiss his cheek.
"C'mon, Cas, get ready so we can go eat."
Cas shook his head and brought the cup to his mouth, taking a sip before setting it back down.
"I don't feel well. Can we go another day?"
He closed his eyes when Dean smoothed his hair back, his palm resting against his forehead, and he lifted his hand, fingers closing around Dean's wrist. Dean kissed his hair, his hand moving down to rest on his shoulder, and Cas leaned into the touch, grabbing his cup of coffee again.
"Yeah, we'll go another day."
Dean moved away and headed back into their bedroom, the paper laying on the table was a constant reminder of what was to come.
The medical school applications went ignored the rest of the night, and they ate leftover spaghetti from the previous night, Dean gently knocking his foot against Cas' shin, smiling at him over his fork. Cas laughed softly as he ate, reaching across the table to take Dean's free hand in his own. Dean curled his fingers through Cas' and they ate in a comfortable silence, their feet bumping into each other under the table, both of them laughing.
They watched Star Trek, Cas' head in Dean's lap, and Dean's fingers sifting through Cas' hair, smoothing out the tangles from him not brushing it out the entire day. Cas wasn't paying too much attention to the episode, but every now and then Dean laughed, and Cas just listened to him.
At some point he had drifted off to sleep, and by the time that he woken up, the television was only emitting static, and Dean's hand was still on his head. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, Dean grunting as his hand dropped onto the couch, and Cas reached out, smoothing his fingers through his hair, leaning forward to brush his lips against his cheek.
"Dean," he whispered, and Dean snorted as he pulled back. Cas couldn't help but laugh as Dean cracked his eyes open, bringing his hand up to rub at them, groaning.
"What?"
"C'mon, let's go to bed. It's late."
Dean nodded and gently kissed Cas before he moved off of the couch, turning the television off on his way to the bedroom, and Cas followed behind him, shedding one of his sweaters on the way. The apartment was cold, and the floor was cold on his bare feet, but the bed was warm when he slipped beneath the covers, immediately curling close to Dean, head pressed beneath his chin.
He hummed softly as Dean smoothed his hand down his back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his sweater to rest against the small of his back. He curled his arm around Dean's middle, pressing as close to him as he could get, fingers bunching up the back of his shirt as he pressed his face into the collar of his sweater.
"What if-"
"Don't," Dean cut him off and Cas shook his head. His throat felt tight, but he didn't want to cry, not in front of Dean, not right now. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to leave you."
"Promise?" Cas flinched when he heard his voice break, but Dean tightened his arm around him and kissed his forehead, and he relaxed, if only a little.
"I promise."
Cas didn't feel better when he woke up, and he lingered in bed for longer than he should have, and he knew Dean was put out with him.
"You're letting this get to you, and that's pointless," Dean grouched, throwing on his clothes while Cas moped, staring up at him from the pillow. He wasn't impressed by how well Dean appeared to be taking it. He wasn't relieved that Dean wasn't worried or anxious or nervous. It made him mad.
"Does it really mean nothing to you that you could be drafted today?" he snarled, sitting up, shoving Dean's hand aside, away from him. He glared at the sheets. "How can you be so fucking indifferent about it?"
"So what if I do?" Dean bit back, throwing his arms up. "So what if I do, then what are we going to do about it? We can't do anything about it. That's the point! It's not up to us!"
"You could at least act like you're upset!" Cas roared, kicking out of the blankets and shoving past him to the bureau. He dug through the drawers, throwing shirts to the floor. "You could at least act like you gave a fuck about it!"
"What do you want from me?" Dean shouted, and this wasn't what Cas wanted. It wasn't. Not today. "Do you want me to throw something? Or cry about it? Because I'm not going to do that because it won't change anything! If it did, I would!"
"I just wish you'd say you were scared!" he yelled, slamming the drawer shut. Something tumbled off and hit the floor. "I wish you would say you were scared of it and that you didn't want to. Or something. None of that bullshit you feed me about not getting worked up over it!"
"I don't want to!" Dean said harshly, sitting heavily on the bed. Cas grit his teeth. "I'm not going to get like that over something like this."
"Then when will you?" Cas snapped, finally wheeling on him. Dean was slumped over, his head in his hands.
"I don't know," Dean answered, quietly, "I'm scared, alright. There. I'm scared, but I'm also practical and I know the money would be good."
Cas closed his eyes, face screwing up.
"Why do you keep saying that? You've been saying that for months," he hissed, "I'll get another job. I can wait a semester or two, why do you keep saying that? I know I make a fuss, but it isn't that tight, and I would never ask you to enlist."
"Because it's true! All my friends at the garage are gone, Cas! They're over there, and they're doing pretty well!"
"Stop talking like that!" Cas cried, "Stop talking like that I can't stand it! It's different for us!"
"How the hell is it different for us? They have wives Cas, some of them even have kids -!"
"It's like you don't even care, do you? The risk that we take? Every day we do this I'm at risk of losing you! Don't you understand? They could evict us, or someone could hurt you just by being with me, and now you want to go off and pick up a gun and head off to some fucking jungle! Thank you, that is so reassuring!"
Dean folded his hands between his knees when Cas stalked by him and slammed the bathroom door. He looked at the floor and stood, knocking on the wood.
"Cas, come on," he pleaded. "Come on, do you really want to do this today?"
Cas leaned against the sink and breathed deeply.
"I get it," Dean started, his word softer, "I get it, alright? I know - I know it's different." Cas didn't respond. "I don't like thinking about that shit, you know I don't - but you can't just give me the silent treatment."
Cas remained still.
"Are you really going to do this?" Dean's voice was getting coarse again. "You know what? Fine. Do whatever you want. Just shut yourself up, I don't give a damn."
"You never do," Cas muttered, and Dean opened the door.
"What?"
"I said you never do. You never give a damn. You always keep going, no matter what, and when I stop to think about things you make me feel like an idiot because I don't just throw myself back in." He gripped the sides of the sink. "You just say I overthink it. Well maybe I am overthinking, and it's because you won't talk about it, and you just start doing things."
"What's talking about it going to fix? We're still going to watch them pull the rabbit out of the hat tonight, and then everything will go back to usual."
"What if it doesn't, Dean?"
"Then there's still nothing we can do! They've got us pinned, Cas! I'm damned if I stay here, and I'm damned if I get drafted, and I'm damned either way because I'm a faggot! You can ask any goddamn lady on the street and she'll tell you the same thing!" Dean was starting to yell again, and Cas watched him in the mirror. "I learned a long time ago that crying about it isn't going to solve any of my problems, alright? It didn't bring my mom back and it didn't make me stop liking dick, and it didn't keep my dad from forgetting to take his rings off! You just keep going!"
"So it doesn't hurt you?"
"Of course it hurts me! I'm terrified of this goddamn war! I'm terrified of what it will do to me! I've seen the ones who come back -they're like ghosts, Cas! I don't want to be that! I don't want to come back half of who I was!"
Cas rotated so he could look at Dean's actual face, not just the one in the mirror.
"Listen to me. Really listen to me; every day you wake up and you go to work and I don't hear you again for hours, Dean. Do you know what that does to me?"
Dean opened his mouth and Cas continued, shaking his head,