He Dreams Of Flying

Chapter 8

"You do whatever you feel like doing." Dean said softly. Castiel nodded his head, looking down at the old book in his hands.

How many hours had he spent crying over it? How much time had he spent hating his wings, hating himself to the very core, just because of those words scrawled on a page? How many times had he tried to push people away--Dean included, just because he felt like the words in this book defined what he was truly and fully?

He clutched the cover, closing his eyes and breathing out of his nose.

When his eyes next opened, it was to watch the book that he had thrown sail into the fire.

He felt with a twisted kind of satisfaction as the flames overtook the leather, seeing how they clung to the fabric and caressed the dried-out pages, forcing it to erase itself, eradicate the words from history. He gave a self-satisfied smirk and turned to Dean, happiness radiating through him.

"I'm not going to let what she thinks hold me back any more. I want to be free with you." He said. Tears still sprung to his eyes, tears with a mixture of anger at her for holding him back so long and happiness that he had finally broken free of his chains. He let loose, feeling the tension drain from his body as he let the tears flow.

It was no surprise when a couple of seconds later, Dean's arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, his lips moving to kiss away some of Castiel's tears.

"Please don't let this hurt you any more." He said, his voice deeper than usual with emotion. "You're too beautiful for that."

"I'll try." Castiel whispered, laughing a little. Dean's arms pulled him even closer, and Castiel rested his head on Dean's shoulder. A hand rubbed his back comfortingly, stroking his feathers through his shirt. He made a content sound in his throat and snuggled in deeper, smiling into Dean's shirt. He really did have the best boyfriend ever.

After that, the summer was in full bloom. Dean and Castiel were living together now, so they spent almost every waking minute in each other's company. Sam was with them some of the time too, and had taken to inviting his friend Gabriel over to hang out. Castiel was surprised that they got along with Gabriel's fun loving nature. They got into fights sometimes, (usually, those ended with Dean slamming Castiel against the wall and kissing him with bruising force, or the other way around) but for the most time they were happy together. During the day they would sometimes drive to the Roadhouse and hang out with Jo and Ash, whom Castiel had learned were actually fairly good dancers. The pair of them flirted with either him or Dean or sometimes each other, (Castiel didn't eat jealous because he knew it wasn't personal; it was their personalities) with playful winks, nudges, and laughs. It wasn't long until he considered them both two of his closest friends-- and to think, just months ago he never would have considered having friends. He loved them more than he could have imagined.

On nights where they wanted to watch the stars and couldn't make it out to the ocean point, they put on the projector on Castiel's ceiling and looked up, hands lightly grasping each other as they scanned the ceiling, pretending it was the sky. For them, in that moment, it was the sky. Their own personal sky with their own stars, their own constellations, and their own stories.

Dean was better, at coming up with the stories. Castiel had never been one for creative writing, he wasn't bad at coming up with things on his own. Dean, however, was absolutely brilliant. All he needed was to see a shape in the stars, and his mind would work faster than his mouth would. Sometimes, the stories would have happy endings, and sometimes they wouldn't. You never knew which way a story would go until the very last minute, and that's what Castiel loved about them. Dean would never admit to being creative, but he was.