next person who references twist and shout is getting blocked :))
srsly I've gotten so many T&S comments and as an author it sort of sucks to put hours of my life into my work only to have it compared to someone else's so pls stop with the "haha Elvis!1!!!" and "I'm only reading this because of twist and shout hahahahaha?1" comments okay thanks
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It is well after four in the morning when Castiel finally flies back to his vessel's house. Neither Sam nor Dean make another appearance that night, nor does any danger come to them.
It isn't per say his duty to watch over two fully-grown men, but it just feels right, so he sticks with it. It's more so something to do, rather than sitting in the house and wait for his next shift with only a cat for company.
And that's how the rest few days are spent, walking to the little motel, watching the boys, and flying back home for tea and kitty cuddles. Neither of them notice the angel watching them, but Dean seems a bit out of place, as if he can sense Castiel.
Yet they still don't meet face to face for twelve hours.
* * *
Dean walks into the Gas 'n Sip, partially hoping that the man - Steve would be there again, disappointed to find a woman at the cash. He sighs and heads to the back of the store-to pick out a snack-before noticing the familiar man clad in bright blue assisting a customer at the slushie machine.
Casually, Dean works his way over to him, accidentally-on purpose-brushing past the man's hip with his own.
"Oh, sorry man, didn't see you there!" he chirps, offering the man a hand.
"Oh it's no prob-hello, Dean." He straightens fully, only having to look a few inches up at Dean. "I was just fixing the slush machine."
"I can see that." Dean muses, glancing over his shoulder at Sam, who's making obscene gestures with his hands. Man, he should get his ass back to Stanford with all his other annoying know-it-alls, he remorsefully thinks.
But thanks to March Break, him and Dean are having a little brother-vacation time. Although personally, Dean would rather be having some girl time, alone. Or guy time. As it is, only Sam and their mother know about Dean's attraction to men and women alike.
-
Castiel blinks at Dean, mildly confused. The colours flying off this man are unreal, and words like girls, boys, attractive, and bed are flying through his head. To break the tension, he finally asks, "How are you?"
"I'm good." Dean replies, leaning against the wall with an eyebrow cocked. "And yourself?"
"Nothing is new." Castiel shrugs, "I tried tea on the weekend, and I quite like it."
Dean stares at Castiel, before cracking a smile that reveals perfectly straight teeth. "I'm more of a coffee guy, but maybe you should make me some tea sometime."
"If you wish, I can write down where I-oh." He looks down at his shoes, finally understanding Dean's intentions. "I mean, yes, that sounds good."
The green-eyed man smiles bigger, before clasping his hands together. "Sweet, did that really work?"
"Did what work, Dean?" Castiel frowns, tilting his head to look at Dean.
"I literally just invited myself to your house." He replies with a snort, "But hey, it's official now."
Castiel furrows his brows, before pointlessly stating, "Yes."
"Cool! Here's my number!" Dean shoots Castiel a crooked grin, before tossing him a napkin with a number written on it. He then turns away to pay for his items, leaving Cas befuddled as to why his number is already written on a napkin; it's customary for humans to write their number and then deposit of it, not carry around business cards.
Maybe.
* * *
The official definition of dork in Castiel's books: a social misfit.
What a dork, Castiel thinks as he dials Dean's number, before realizing that technically he was the dork here.
What if Dean is one of those humans that sells their bodies for a night of fun? What if he knows about Castiel's past?
Ring...
Then what?
Ring...
Would Castiel still mean anything to him, or-
"Hello?"
"Uh...hello, Dean." Castiel coughs awkwardly, trying not to notice how gruff Dean's voice is, or the background rock music playing.
"Steve?" he asks, before yawning. "It's like ten in the morning."
"Yes?"
"It's so early..."
"I have been awake for..." He can't say the past week or so, so he just clears his throat. "Three hours."
"Well you're weird then."
"You're weird." Castiel blurts. "And that's okay."
Dean chuckles. "I thought you worked at a gas station, what's up with the fancy words?" A moment of silence passes, "Poetry. That's the word I was looking for."
"I was simply assuring you that weirdness is acceptable. I am no poet."
"Okie dokie then." Dean turns down the music, "You busy today?"
"I am not." Castiel confirms.
"Cool." Silence for a few seconds, "Wanna go for a drink, or hang out or something?"
"Yes." Castiel bluntly replies.
"Cool." Again. "Where do you live? I can pick you up around seven."
Castiel tells him his address, before mentally kicking himself.
He's an angel. He doesn't have emotions, and he certainly can not have dates, and certainly not with another man.
Although sexual orientation is completely irrelevant to Castiel, if he hasn't been smited yet, showing interest in Dean will certainly do it.
But...still....
* * *
His doorbell rings at exactly five after seven, so Castiel stops fretting over his vessel's hair, and slips his trusty trench coat over his shoulders before opening the door.
"Hello, Dean." He greets, taking in the other man's appearance. Nicely gelled hair, clean flannel, not ripped jeans and...running shoes. "You look nice."
"You too!" he nods toward his car, "Shall we go?"
"Yes." Castiel steps out of his house to look his door, noticing how painfully close the two are, yet neither step back. Once the door is locked, Dean smiles and steps back, down the front steps.
Once seated in the passenger's seat, Castiel tucks his arms into his sides and stares straight ahead, never really realizing how uncomfortable these...cars...really are.
"You good?" Dean asks, turning down the radio before it comes on. "You look little out of place."
"Very rarely do I drive, is all." Castiel assures him, clenching his teeth. It moves so slowly compared to how he can fly, but it's still unnerving.
"So." Dean starts, "Where do you wanna go? And we can go back to your place for your tea after if you want."
"Sure." Castiel shrugs, "Do you like going on walks?"
"A walk?" Dean questions, "Out of everything?"
Castiel sinks a bit lower in the seat, his ears burning for some reason. Embarrassment? Maybe.
"I just...like walking is all." Castiel replies, "If you don't wanna go for a walk that's okay."
"A walk..." Dean pouts, before giving in. "Sure, where to?"
"I don't know." Castiel admits, "Have you been to the lake, just outside town, Arwen's Lake or something of the sort."
"Lake? Dude, I don't on no hikes, I'm a macho man!"
"Macho?" Castiel scoffs, unfamiliar with the word but understanding the tone quite well. "Hikes can be very dangerous, Dean."
"I'm kidding, man." Dean looks at Castiel with a smile, "If that's what you want, I don't care."
"Really?"
"Sure thing."
They're submerged in silence once again, but it's more comfortable. Castiel doesn't intrude on Dean's thoughts, but he can feel them there, pushing, like a wall.
Dean smiles at how nervous Cas is, twiddling his thumbs. "You make it look like I'm kidnapping you."
"Are you?"
"I-pssh, no!" Dean laughs, "I mean if you're into that, but..."
"I can assure you that kidnapping does not arouse me in the least, Dean, but thank you for trying." Castiel replies, laughing at Dean's 'slightly scarred by that' face.
Well, maybe it wasn't laughing. Because to laugh means to have emotions. And...Castiel's an angel. That can't happen.
They're quiet again, before the still surface of a dark lake comes into view, and Castiel's thrown into a thousand memories of fighting over water; angels falling to rest at its icy shores, or forever submerged into its silence.
"What's up?" Dean asks, casually resting a hand on the other man's shoulder, "You look terrified."
Castiel wipes his face of any emotion, "No, it's okay."
"Okay." Dean opens his door and practically flies over the hood of his car to open Castiel's door.
The angel frowns a bit, before unbuckling and getting out, offering a nod of thanks at Dean, who holds his door open.
Dean closes the door and guides Castiel to the trunk with by the small of his back, and Castiel can't help but notice how much better this would be if his trench coat wasn't in the way. Dean seems to have a warm hand, but all the same it still feels different. Distant. After all, it's only Castiel's vessel he's touching. It's his luminescent soul that warms him, clashing with his own grace to create a miniature fire. Castiel frowns when he removes his hand to open his trunk.
"Luckily I keep a blanket back here." Dean muses as he sifts through the trunk, finally pulling a faded blue blanket out from behind a pile of clothes. "Ah, this'll work."
Castiel wordless follows him down to the lakefront, sitting down when the blanket's fully spread. The two sit in silence.
"Y'know, you're not much of a talker."
The angel turns to look at Dean, who's only about a foot away thanks to the size of the blanket. "I've heard that before, actually."
"Really?" Dean questions, "I mean, it's not like a bad thing or nothing, you're just quiet."
"Not really." Castiel states, "I just don't talk to a lot of people often."
"What? How? I don't believe that." Dean lays back on the blanket so that the just setting sun isn't in his eyes any more. "I mean you look like a real charmer, party animal kind of guy."
"I work at a gas station."
"Doesn't mean you can't party."
"I don't party." Castiel insists, "It's a sin."
Dean pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth thoughtfully. "You religious?"
Castiel almost says yes, before realizing that he literally fell from God's embrace, and to pray to him would be some form of satire. "No."
"Me neither."
"What do you do?" Castiel lays back and turns on his side to stare at Dean while he works up an answer.
"I'm just me. Mechanic, older brother, daddy issues. I want to be an engineer some day, maybe. I live alone in a shitty apartment with shitty music. Counting the days."
"Until what?"
"Anything, I guess." Dean shrugs, "I'm a sad song."
"I don't think you're a sad song." Castiel assures him, "You're quite brilliant."
"How can you know?" Dean turns to face Castiel, "The things I've done would probably send you running."
"No." Castiel's voice drops a bit, "I can see that you're a good man, destined for good things."
"I wish, Steve." Dean frowns, "Your name isn't Steve."
"What?" Castiel narrows his eyes, "How'd you know?"
"For one, Steve, your house is registered under a Jimmy Novak, but you started to say a hard-C when you introduced yourself."
"I-you're quite brilliant." Castiel nods, dropping his voice. "I am called Castiel. But it'd be best if you don't overuse it."
"Castiel?" Dean looks excited, "That's much better, I can see that."
"Hm?"
"That name suits you. Mysterious. Calm. Powerful." He purses his lips, wiggling his eyebrows. "Exotic." His playful smile drops, however, "Why can't I say it? Are you a secret FBI agent or something?"
"A secret what? No." Castiel laughs a bit, because that's what humans do, right? "It's just not a name that'll get you a good reputation."
"Oh So a drug dealer, eh?" Dean shivers a bit, "I could deal with that only because you're attractive."
"Thanks." Castiel dryly replies as the two fall into silence for about ten minutes, watching the stars appear.
"Tell me something." Dean blurts suddenly, turning to meet Cas' eyes.
"Like what?" he asks, also turning. "A story? Fact? Myth?"
"Anything." Dean meets the angel's eyes, his mouth dropping open at how the stars reflected perfectly in them, making them appear as old and wise as time itself.
"I'm the youngest in my family." Castiel starts, "But I am an elder to many relatives. My family looked up to me, until I started...befriending people and things that I shouldn't." Dean nods at the words, understanding completely.
"I was practically royalty, before my eldest brother, Michael, found out who I had been acquainting with." Castiel brings his arms around himself to watch the stars, knowing that somewhere, there's a disgusted angel watching him right now and that if this continues, the peace won't last. "But, he refused to let go of me entirely. He kicked me out so that I could never return, but I still have my...uh, allowance."
"Allowance?" Dean scoffs, "You're thirty and you get allowances? Lucky."
"Uh, it's a family tradition."
"Sounds fair enough."
* * *
They sit for another twenty minutes, before even Castiel can start to feel the chill from the semi-frozen solid ground.
"I'm cold." Dean remarks, "Wanna go back to your place?"
"Okay. Do you want tea?" Castiel asks, now having the squint a bit in the dark despite his excellent vision.
Dean laughs. "Sure thing, Cas."