Fame Crazy (Sequel to Strings Attached)

Chapter 111

Dean increases the incline of his treadmill as well, then ups the speed to 7. He makes it look so effortless, and Castiel can only hope he's actually dying on the inside, too. Wow, he sounds like a horrible boyfriend.

Castiel meets his boyfriend's settings, balling his hands into fists and digging his nails into his palms as if the pain will cancel out and he'll feel nothing. It doesn't work.

He gives it another thirty seconds, then, when it becomes clear Dean isn't going to break. He hits pause and hops to the sides of the treadmill, panting heavily. He takes his earbuds out, because he can barely hear the music over his breathing, anyway.

"How ya doing, Cas?" Dean asks teasingly. It's clear that this is no easy task for him, but he's definitely not as bad off as Castiel.

"How —" Castiel attempts to speak between his gasping for breath. "How are — you — still —"

Dean doesn't make him finish the sentence, picking up on it before the words are out of his mouth. "It's called training. You think I got to the NFL by sitting on my couch playing guitar all day?"

Castiel just shrugs, because he knows he can't speak. God, he never pushes himself that hard. It's both terrifying and enlightening, seeing what he can do when he really sets his mind to it.

"Drink something," Dean suggests. "Don't want you fainting on me."

Castiel nods, then picks up his water bottle from the floor next to the treadmill. He has to hold onto the handle as he bends down out of fear that he'll fall on his face because he's so disoriented. You never quite get used to getting off a treadmill, that's for sure.

Eventually, once Dean finally wears himself out a good five to ten minutes later, they both move on to weights. Dean decides it's a good idea to squat well over two hundred pounds off the bat, and as much as Castiel wants to compete with him, he knows that's not happening.

"So, like, I'm gonna start smaller," he says, slightly jealous that he can't do what Dean seems to do easily.

At the end of their gym trip, they establish one thing: the only thing Castiel is better at when it comes to workouts is bringing some bopping tunes.

Castiel slides in the passenger seat of the impala, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He decided long ago that he would never shower in a public bathroom like that, and he's not in any hurry to change that. The only problem is, he's now stuck inside Baby with another sweaty boy until they get home, because that's going to be fun.

"You need to start training harder," Dean tells him.

"I could barely handle that," Castiel replies, still slightly out of breath.

"Okay, you and I gotta go to the gym together more often. I'm going to whip you into shape so fast."

"I'm going to be so sore," Castiel groans in annoyance.

"No pain, no gain," Dean replies with a shrug.

"Too much pain, you want to throw yourself out a thirty-second story window," Castiel adds.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm gonna be sore tomorrow, too," Dean tells him.

"It doesn't."

"Good, because I'm not going to be," Dean replies with a playful grin.

"I hate you," Castiel mutters.

"I know!"

~~

The first thing Castiel does when he gets home is face plant on the bed. He can barely walk, he's so fatigued. Dean just chuckles, obviously not understanding how much of a struggle just using his muscles is for Castiel at this point.

"Wanna take a shower?" Dean asks.

"I don't wanna move ever again," Castiel mumbles into the mattress.

"Cold water helps with soreness," Dean tells him. "Just sayin', might be worth it."

Castiel groans and rolls off the bed, landing on the floor. He pushes himself to his feet and forces himself to walk to the bathroom, pretending he doesn't see Dean trying not to laugh at him.

Most of his shower time is spent just staring at the wall, because he's exhausted and doesn't particularly want to do anything, including taking a shower. Eventually, he does get out of the shower, but doesn't really have the motivation to dry off, so he just throws on some sweatpants and calls it a day.

Once again, he collapses on the bed, and Dean, who's sitting on the floor watching tv, chuckles. "You good there, Cas?"

"Better than I'll be tomorrow," Castiel mumbles. He hurts just thinking of how sore he'll be.

"But you'll be stronger for it," Dean reminds him. "Always worth it."

He leaves to take his own shower, so Castiel just lies in bed in silence. After a few minutes, he closes his eyes, allowing himself to drift off, and while he's not truly awake, he doesn't quite fall asleep, either. He finds himself in this strange mix of the two that he just can't explain. It's almost like lucid dreaming, but even that doesn't quite describe it. In theory, he could get up at any time, but he decides against it, opting for his strange not-sleeping feeling instead.

Dean eventually returns to their bedroom, chuckling softly to himself when he sees Castiel. He lies down with the boy, trying to be quiet as if trying not to wake him up. Castiel debates telling him he's actually asleep, but that would imply that he has plans other than sleeping, so he doesn't. He wouldn't mind just lying here with Dean all day. It's not like he has anything better to do with his life.