Twist and Shout

Chapter 8

June, 1972
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Cas got a ride with Sam and Jess to the airport, and the entire way there, he couldn't stop moving. He kept tapping his feet on the floorboard, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater, and pulling his glasses off to clean them, even though he had just done it minutes prior. Every now and then Jess would turn around and say something to him, maybe reaching out to playfully flip his hair. He would laugh and swat her hand away, and she would laugh too and turn around to say something to Sam.
He knew that most men that returned home from the war weren't the same men that they were when they left, but he had hope-he always had hope that Dean would still be Dean, and nothing would have changed. They hadn't exchanged letters, packages, anything, so Cas had no idea what Dean had been up toover seas; he had some idea, but he didn't want to think about that.
Jess turned around and reached back to flick Cas' hair again, laughing.
"You excited?"
"Of course I am!" Cas grinned pushed her hand away from his hair. He had actually attempted to make it look nice for today, and Jess kept reaching back to mess it up. He had tried to dress up too. He wanted it to be special;he wanted it to be good.
"Are you going to kiss him out there? In front of everyone?"
"Don't be absurd, Jess!" Cas barked a laugh, flipping the ends of her hair with his fingers, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. Sam rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror and Jess leaned across to kiss his cheek before turning back to Cas.
"It would be such a shocker, I bet!"
"It would, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to do it."
"Alright, enough about kissing my brother!" Sam chuckled, parking the car and cutting the ignition off. "We're here, so let's go see him!"
Cas stood beside Jess at the airport, and he could feel his hands shaking at his sides for a moment before Jess reached over and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly. He squeezed her hand back, and she gently bumped him with her shoulder.
"It's going to be fine, Cas," she whispered. "He's going to be fine."
He nodded and squeezed her fingers again, the sound of a plane roaring in the distance as it went over the terminal.
The soldiers filed off of the plane, and Cas kept a lookout for Dean, standing on his toes to look over the heads of some people. He adjusted his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose, and Jess pulled her hand away from his to point at someone. He followed her finger and then he froze when Dean looked up at him, catching his eyes. His breath caught in his throat, and Dean smiled that wolfish smile of his.
"Cas-"
He didn't hear the rest of what Jess had said because he was already pushing past people, apologizing to a couple of them as he made his way toward Dean, stopping in front of him when he reached him.
"Dean," he started, but the words got stuck halfway. Dean's smile diminished to something quieter.
"Hey," he whispered.
Cas threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, and he didn't care who saw them. Actually, he wanted everyone to see them. He wanted everyone to see how much he loved Dean, and how much he missed him, and if anyone didn't like, then they could just turn the other way. He melted against Dean when he felt arms wrap around him, Dean pressing his face into his hair, fingers bunching into his sweater.
"I missed you so much," Cas sobbed, pressing closer to Dean, and Dean hushed him, held him tighter.
"It's okay. I'm home now, it's okay." He looked around at the people whispering and loosened his grip. "We probably shouldn't make a scene here," he muttered, patting Cas' back in a more platonic manner.
Cas nodded and pulled back, pulling his glasses off to wipe at his eyes, flushing. He hadn't meant to be like that. He swallowed and smiled and looked at him as Sam and Jess crept up behind him. Dean saw Sam and his face went white, as though he'd seen a ghost. He pushed Cas gently aside and grabbed his brother, pulling him into a tight hug that he seemed reluctant to let go of. Cas wrung his hands nervously, watching him kiss Sam's cheek
"Sammy," Cas heard him murmur, and Sam ducked his head, squeezing Dean tightly in his long arms, "Missed you, kid," Dean croaked, and when they had separated, Dean cuffed him lightly on the shoulder as he brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Sam laughed awkwardly, hugging him again, and Dean obliged, slapping his back and smiling.
"We're so glad you're home," Jess said, her voice thin, and Dean turned to her, his face splitting into a grin. Jess laughed when Dean lifted her off her feet, kissing her cheek and setting her back onto the ground.
"God, you just get prettier every time I see you," he commented and Jess shook her head.
"Did Sam not tell you? I model for Vogue now!" she teased and Dean's eyes went soft as they looked over her.
"You gonna marry her yet, Sammy?"
"Dean!" Sam protested, flushing scarlet and Jessica coughed into her hand, glancing up at Sam's face.
"I'm just sayin' - life doesn't wait," Dean finished, his voice trailing off. He looked around at their faces, a sort of distance crossing his features and Cas stepped forward, breaking the silence.
"I think Sam can handle it," he chuckled, brushing a hand over Dean's uniform, the material rough beneath his fingers. He met Dean's eyes, still marveling that he was there. "Speaking of, Sam and Jess want to go to dinner tomorrow. There's this new place that just opened.It's nice."
"Yeah, yeah, that sounds cool." Dean covered Cas' hand with his own, fingers rough on his skin from calluses Cas didn't recognize yet. He dropped his voice. "I just want to go home, if that's alright."
"Of course!" Jess said quickly looking between the two of them. "We'll get you home and I'll call tonight to make plans with Cas!"
Cas conveyed their gratitude, Dean having decided not to say much else, hefting his bag onto his shoulder and shifting his weight. Cas watched him out of the corner of his eye, heart hammering with excitement and anxiety and an overwhelming happiness.
It was no surprise he couldn't keep his hands off Dean in the back seat of the car, holding Dean's hand in both of his, skating his fingers over Dean's knee. Dean kept his arm around Cas' shoulders and held him close against his side, his other hand smoothing over Cas' palm, touching his wrist, his arm, everything. Cas pressed his face against shoulder a moment before he twined their fingers together, squeezing Dean's hand.
Sam parked in the parking lot outside of the apartment, and they all got out of the car. Sam helped Dean get his bag out of the trunk, and Dean threw it over his shoulder. He gave Sam a one-armed hug, patting him on the back, and then he wrapped his arm around Jess' waist, bending to kiss her on the cheek.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow?"
"Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow," Sam smiled and Jess hugged Cas and kissed him on the cheek, and Sam ruffled his hair. They stood on the street watching them drive off before Cas looked up at Dean with excitement.
"Ready?" he asked, backing towards the door, and Dean smiled, glancing up at the building and the window on the top floor. He took a small breath.
"Ready."
Dean followed him into the elevator and Cas clicked the button, the door sliding shut. He glanced at Dean expectantly, but Dean didn't move. He kept his bag in his hand, staring at the closed doors as the numbers clicked off on the dial above it, the gears grinding and rattling the lift. Concern bloomed in his stomach, but Cas pushed it down, looking up at the buzzing light instead, trying to calm himself down. He jumped as the elevator whined to a halt, bracing himself on the wall, watching as Dean stepped out first and stopping a few feet in front of the doors, waiting for him.
Cas followed, pulling his keys out, putting a hand on Dean's arm, infinitely relieved when he didn't flinch or pull away. He shook his head. Dean was fine. He was fine, he was just tired or something, and what did Cas really expect? Dean had just come home from war, there was nothing wrong with how he was being. His thoughts racing, Cas tugged him to the door at the end of the hall, stopping up short when one of the doors flung open and a little girl came out, bouncing a red ball. She stopped and stared at them, and Dean stiffened, Cas quickly dropping his hand from Dean's body.
"Molly, if your Gramma catches you out in the hall she'll be mad!" Cas said weakly and the little girl chewed on her lip, still staring at Dean. Cas glanced at Dean's face and he met his eyes and then looked back to Molly. Dean forced a smile.
"Who's that?" Molly asked, and Cas tried to think of something to say.
"Molly!" another voice surfaced and Cas waved at Mrs. Gardener. Her white hair bobbed as she hurried into the hall with her dressing gown on, grabbing Molly's hand.
"Hello, Cas - oh, you must be Dean! Cas said you'd be coming home. I'm Emily Gardener, and this is my granddaughter, Molly!" She held out her hand for Dean to take and Dean shook it gently, nodding, still silent.
"You're lucky to have such a decent friend to keep house for you while you're away!" she laughed, and Cas smiled, leaning a little more towards Dean, urging him to say something.
"Thank you," Dean answered softly, and Mrs. Gardener gave a brief goodbye, picking Molly up and hauling her back into the apartment, the door rattling shut behind her. Molly had started to cry in protest, her little white legs kicking as she squirmed, holding the ball tightly against her chest. Dean winced as the tantrum started up, her cries muffled through the walls.
"I'm so sorry," Cas rushed. "I completely forgot about them - they moved here in July, and I just completely forgot to tell you."
Dean cut him off, placing his hand on his waist, his touch light, just a brush of his fingers. "Cas, it's fine," he reassured, "but this bag is heavy."
Cas jogged to the end of the hall, opening the door. He smiled, and Dean took it as an invitation, walking with slow steps to the apartment. He glanced around the door and saw it was basically the same. A few things had changed. There was a new afghan draped on the back of the couch, and a few dishes he wasn't sure he recognized. It was very clean, but otherwise, the same.
"I tried to keep it as close as possible," Cas hurried, closing the door behind Dean and rubbing his hands together. "I almost bought a new couch a few weeks ago, and there's a new rug in the bedroom, but everything else is the same. Except the plants I guess, those are new," he laughed sheepishly, walking around Dean's side, surveying the spotless apartment. "I killed the last ones unfortunately - I got swamped with school, and I kept forgetting to water them," Dean's bag hit the floor and he turned, grabbing Cas' chin, tilting his head, pressing their mouths together.
Cas stood, frozen, for a moment as Dean pulled gently away, still holding Cas' face in his hands.
"You still talk too much," he murmured, searching Cas' eyes, the lids pulled wide and his pupils dilated from surprise.
Without any warning, Cas surged forward, knocking Dean over the bag. Dean's back hit the counter but he barely felt it - Cas clung to him, kissing him hard, using any opportunity to lick into his mouth. His hands raked at Dean's uniform, pulling it open, desperate to get to the skin underneath. He settled for the undershirt, touching Dean's stomach as he groaned against him.
"I missed you, I missed you," he chanted against Dean's lips, kissing his chin, his jaw, his neck, anywhere he could get to. Dean's hands scrambled over his back, fingers tightening in the fabric of his sweater, clenching and releasing, kissing Cas back, giving into the fever.
Dean didn't know what to say, so he held him, and they panted against each other, Cas so flush against him he couldn't tell where he ended. Dean shuddered, bending forward over Cas' shoulder, the small of his back still digging in to the countertop. Cas held the back of his neck and kissed the side of his face over and over, his other hand clutching as it wound around his back.
"Oh god," Cas said after a moment, after they had quieted. "Oh god you're finally here, you're home - you're here."
Dean breathed against him, tightening his arms. He was there. He was there, he just had to keep telling himself that. He was there, and the war was far away, not Cas. He was home. His eyes fluttered shut as Cas pressed his face into his neck, kissing him there.
"I love you," Dean exhaled and Cas stilled and a shiver ran through him, passing into Dean's body as well.
"Are you hungry?" he said suddenly, pulling away, turning to wipe his eyes so Dean wouldn't see. Dean let his arms drop when Cas busied himself with the refrigerator, his glasses bumping as he pushed his fingers under them, sniffing sharply.
"I'll fix you whatever you want, do you want something? I can make you whatever you want!" he bleated, gesturing at the open door. Dean watched him paw at his face, swallowing thickly.
"Anything is fine," Dean told him and Cas nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"I'll make chicken or something, is that ok? Do you want that? Or soup? Do you want soup? I have some left over soup. It was-" he cleared his throat, "it was really good, or I can just make chicken salad if you want that;I'll make whatever you want."
When he looked at Dean, his green eyes were so gentle.
"I don't care," he murmured. "I really don't care. You can make me a peanut butter sandwich if you want. I don't care."
"I'll make chicken then," Cas affirmed, nodding to himself, pulling things out. Dean stepped out of his way, and picked up his neglected bag, carrying it to the bedroom. The mattress sank under his weight when he sat on it, untying his shoes and pulling them off. He padded to the closet and clicked on the light - his clothes were in the exact same place as when he left. He could hear Cas in the kitchen: the slight rumble of pots being pulled out and the stove being lit. He blinked, the tears rolling down his face. He wiped them away, and changed his clothes, shrugging into his shirt and a pair of jeans that were baggier than they used to be. He twitched, feeling a phantom mosquito that turned out to be nothing more than a speck of dust from his shirt. He must have lost track of time, standing there, and he shook himself out, walking back into the living room. He didn't know what to do so he sat on the couch. When he glanced into the kitchen he saw Cas standing there, like he didn't know what to do either.
Dean got up and turned on the TV. He sat with his legs slightly apart, hands resting between, watching the news, trying to reset his mind.
Cas appeared a few seconds later holding two plates.
"I kept getting distracted," he said hoarsely, and Dean smiled, taking the peanut butter sandwich from Cas' hand. Cas sat beside him, and set his plate on his lap. He didn't eat, but ran a hand through Dean's hair instead.
"It's a little longer than it was," he commented and Dean smiled around his sandwich, unused to the way the peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. He finished chewing and swallowed, staring at Cas with tired eyes.
"Yeah, they don't hound you so much to cut it when you're out there because you're moving all the time."
Cas nodded.
"I can imagine," he continued, and Dean leaned into the touch, the slight drag of Cas' fingers. Cas trailed his hand over Dean's face, thumb smudging at the corner of his mouth, and Dean slid his plate onto the floor.
"I'm not hungry," he whispered, and Cas' eyes fluttered, Dean's mouth descending on his neck. He gasped, holding Dean's head to him, Dean's arms, thicker than he remembered, stronger, hauling him towards him. His knees parted, Dean settling between them, kissing his neck and his jaw, Cas breathing heavily, at a loss for words, fingers scratching into Dean's hair and his shoulders.
Cas' skin was so smooth and white, not nicked up like Dean's, or dark.
He brushed his hand down over Cas' stomach, and something in him lurched.
"What?" Cas breathed, eyes dazed "What's wrong?"
Dean stared at his hand, sitting back, away from Cas. He stared at his palm and curled his fingers over it. He could have sworn - but there was nothing there. It was dry.
"It's alright," Cas soothed. "We'll take it slow." He placed his hand in Dean's and Dean gripped it tightly, twisting his fingers over Cas'.
Dean nodded vacantly.
"I'm tired," he muttered, touching his forehead and slowly standing. "I'm just tired."
Cas watched him step over his plate and go to the bedroom, jumping up from the couch to follow him. Dean stripped down in a way that was nearly mechanical, and Cas figured it was, to some extent. Cas stood off to the side, watching Dean pull the blankets back, playing with the sleeve of his shirt. It was only eight o'clock at night.
"Oh, that's good," Dean moaned, sinking into the mattress, looking around for his pillow; it was under Cas'.
"Sorry," Cas said quietly as Dean pulled it out from beneath the other. "It smelled like you."
Dean smiled and put it back on his side, throwing the other pillow off the bed. He looked up at Cas, his bare chest rising and falling. Cas twisted his hands, halting the movement when Dean sat up, throwing the blankets off of his legs.
"C'mere," Dean began and Cas walked to him, Dean un-tucking his shirt, kissing his chest through it as he did so. He rolled the sweater up, tossing it to the floor and Cas sighed, holding Dean's wrists as he undid the buttons, slowly peeling the shirt from his body. Dean ran his fingers over Cas' abdomen, shyly pressing his thumbs over the V of his hipbones.
Cas bent down, pushing him against the pillows, hands splayed on his chest. He undid his belt with a quick tug and his pants fell, though he had to pull them off his feet along with his socks. He kicked them away and threw his leg over Dean's waist, settling onto his hips. He took his glasses off and put them on the night table, Dean skimming his palm over his side and bumping his fingers over his ribs and around his back, stroking down in broad sweeps.
He rocked up and Cas moaned softly, curling over Dean, rolling his hips and seaming their mouths together. Dean's hand trailed to his ass, kneading slightly and Cas sighed again, eyes closing.
"We don't have to," he murmured, and Dean kissed him.
"I want to now," he replied, and he did. He wanted to. He ached for him; he ached for his skin sliding slick against his, for the ocean-like wave of his body. He didn't know what to do with his hands though, and Cas didn't mind, kissing the worries from his brow as he slicked his cock for him, leaning back and taking him slowly. Cas' throat hitched a little, but it was nice, he reminded himself. It was nice to feel whole again.
Dean was home, and he was there, and he was touching him from the inside out and it was all Cas could ever ask for.
Dean dug his fingers into the tops of Cas' thighs, and Cas covered them, rocking back, fucking himself down on his dick, head thrown back.
"Oh, Dean," he said breathily, Dean watching him, watching him because he was beautiful, and because he was too afraid to do anything else. He kept his hands planted, eyes half open while Cas fluttered his hands over his chest and his neck, moving steadily, obviously trying to reestablish their old rhythm.
Cas watched Dean's eyes fall all the way shut, face calm, hips moving slightly to push up into him, but nothing too urgent. It was slow and shy, and Cas touched his face, but Dean still didn't open his eyes.
When he came, Cas held him against his chest, carding his fingers through his hair with one hand, the other smoothing up and down his arm and over his chest. Dean cried against his neck, and Cas hushed him, holding him closer, covering him with his body.
"You're home," he whispered, kissing Dean's temple. "It's okay, you're home."
After, he smoothed Dean's hair from his face and trailed his fingers down to his chest, noticing the thin gold chain that had fallen behind his neck while they fucked.
"What's this?" he asked and Dean caught his hand as he reached for it.
"S'nothin," he slurred, obviously slipping into sleep. "I'll tell you tomorrow."
Cas withdrew his hand and laid down against Dean's shoulder. It was warm and harder than it used to be because of the corded muscle he'd gained, but it was him. He pressed his nose into Dean's collarbone, letting the realness of him set in.
Cas awoke later in the night, blearily feeling around. Delirious from sleep he felt for one heartbreaking moment that Dean was gone, that he had merely dreamed everything. The soreness between his legs told him otherwise, but he got up anyway, tripping towards the sliver of light under the bathroom door as he pulled his boxers on
"Dean?" he rasped, pushing it gently aside, and Dean looked up from the where he sat on the closed toilet seat, his eyes red rimmed. Cas opened the door further and Dean held up his hand.
"Go back to bed," he said quietly, and Cas stared at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, go back to bed."
Cas stared at him. It was obviously not nothing, but he didn't want to press. Dean would come round, wouldn't he? He was tired. He was just a little off. He just need time to sort himself out, and eventually, he would talk about it, and things would be worked through, and it would all be understood.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cas asked, and Dean shook his head, the gold chain glittering over his chest, a little gold oval hanging from it. A medallion, like the ones his grandmother wore. Cas wanted to ask but he remembered Dean's hand darting out to stop him when he'd tried earlier.
Time. He just needed time.
"Come back to bed with me," Cas requested and Dean sighed.
"I just need a few minutes."
Cas' heart sank a little.