West Coast

Chapter Eighteen

'Twelve.'

'Twelve years, and I'm willing to bet that Dean has seen and touched every little part of you.'

'It's not that little,' Cas muttered.

'Yeah, I know.'

Cas looked at Jess incredulously, and she laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

'Dean's not good at secrets, I'm afraid. Sam's a little better, but not with me.'

'Ugh.'

'Dean's probably up for it anyway, judging by how often he goes to the bathroom these days.'

'That's not the point.'

Just then, the side door opened, and they could hear Dean taking off his shoes and throwing down his keys.

'Please don't tell him,' Cas hissed.

'But-'

'Please, please don't.'

Dean came through to the dining room. 'Jess, you're here! Again.'

'Yep.'

Dean looked between Jess's too pleasant smile, and Cas's nervous expression. 'What are you guys talking about?' he asked suspiciously.

'Nothing,' said Jess. 'Just that Cas wants to draw a sexy picture of you.'

Cas slapped a hand to his forehead.

'You know, like in Titanic.'

Dean scrunched up his face. He didn't speak for a moment, then raised a finger. 'Neither of you are funny, y'all know that, right?'

Jess sniggered, and reached over to pat Dean on the arm. 'Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.'

' Someone woke up on the couch this morning,' Dean grumbled.

All three of them fell silent.

'All right, I'm gonna go,' Jess said, awkwardly getting to her feet. 'See you tomorrow?'

'Sure,' Cas smiled.

Dean stood with his arms folded, pouting until Jess left. 'So... hanging out with Jess again?' he said once he was sure Jess was gone.

'Shouldn't I?' Cas asked, confused.

Dean shrugged moodily.

Cad frowned and leaned back in his chair. 'Are you going to sit down and tell me what's wrong?'

Dean grumbled, but sat down.

'Well?'

Dean glowered at Cas's painting, and Cas followed his gaze.

'Are you... jealous of Jess? Because she paints with me?'

Dean still didn't say anything.

'Dean, you can paint with me anytime you want, you know that,' Cas said, reaching across the table, but Dean didn't take his hand.

Dean shook his head. 'You're different with her,' he said, biting his lip.

'What do you mean?'

'You're... you talk more, you're more relaxed...'

'I see,' Cas said softly. He took a deep breath. 'She talks to me like I'm normal,' he explained. 'Sometimes it's nice to pretend that nothing is wrong with me.'

Dean's face softened. 'Oh.' He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I wish - I wish I could-'

'Don't,' Cas said, seizing Dean's hand. 'That's not what I need from you. You're perfect. You take care of me, you make sure I've got everything I need, and you keep me grounded. Jess is great for a conversation, but without all those other things...'