Part 3
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Dean doesn’t see Cas that morning, even though he lingers in all the usual spots, waiting. After last night he’d thought that, maybe… He’d stayed up far too late rerunning the moments through his head and deciding that when he saw Cas again, he’d tell him. But the other doesn’t come find him and is nowhere to be found when Dean looks. He even tries walking around the edges of the ship, blatantly staring into first class. All that gets him though is a few horrified old ladies screeching about how he’s “looking at them wrong” and nothing more.
Morning turns to afternoon and still no Cas, a little knot of agitation starting to form in Dean’s chest. Maybe the other is just too busy or tired or something, it had been a long night after all. That’s all, he tells himself - just taking a day off. God knows the other needs one with all those jerks clucking around him.
But then it’s the next day and still nothing, and really, if he’s going to be honest, he’s starting to get a little fucking worried. Okay, fine, a lot fucking worried. Maybe they’d been found out, maybe they’d pushed too far, maybe Cas is in some serious shit with everyone - on fucking house arrest or something and can’t get out. He really wouldn’t put it past any of the assholes to just lock him up and throw away the key. They’d all seemed to think that Dean was some kind of disease, about to get them all sick, so of course they’d try and keep Cas away. The fuckers. His fists clench.
He thinks, just for a second, and then laughs at himself for it, that maybe he should just take the hint and get the fuck out of the other’s life. But he’s too involved now to just walk away, call it a fun few days and let it go. He fucking cares about what happens to the other and who the fuck knows what he’s being told or being made to do. The one thing he’s friggin’ understood from all of this is a place with soft pillows and good food can be just as much of a jail as a tiny little vomit covered room.
And hell, there’s probably no one alive, except Sammy, who knows him as well as Cas does at this point, with all the talking they’ve done. Doesn’t matter that they’ve only known each other a week. Dean’s smart enough to know that sometimes that’s just not fucking important. That this isn’t a one night stand or a flirtation to pass by a long trip, because damn, he’s had plenty of those. This is something else all together.
Eventually, he just has to know, antsiness getting the better of him, he’s never really been a sit around and wait kinda guy. So he waits until the coast is as clear as it’s going to get and hauls himself up and over onto the first class deck. He’s done it once before, to get up to the library, but this time, there’s much more on the fucking line and thankfully, it goes pretty smoothly. He doesn’t scrape his knee like he did before, and manages to dodge all the jerk crewman and little children before they can see him.
He grabs a hat off the nearby bench and pulls it low over his face. He’ll give it back later, or at least, he’ll try. Right now he still has to make it to Cas’s room without being spotted by the vultures. He keeps his head down and walks, trying not to look too out of place.
He has to guess a little, has after all only seen Cas go into his room once, from a distance, so he’s really more or less choosing blind here, just following his gut and hoping for the best. But then he sees Rachel walking by and that’s a good sign, but fuck she’s heading right for him. And he’s sure she’s on the fucking look out. So quickly, praying it’s the right door, he picks one and yanks it open, dodging quickly inside, breath in heavy spurts. Luckily though, the prim footsteps pass by the outside of the room and don’t stop. He knows if she’d spotted him it would have been game, way, fucking over.
But he’s in now and that’s what counts. And thank god, it’s Cas, and Cas alone, that’s sitting on the sofa, reading a book. The last thing he needs right now is to be accused of trying to peep on more old ladies. But his triumphant grin fades away as he gets closer to the other. Cas no longer looks bright like he had the last time they’d seen each other. He looks tired and unhappy - like the fucking weight of the world is on his shoulders - heavy and hopeless. The guy who’d laughed and joked with him two nights ago, cheeks red and eyes sparkling is completely gone. He really wants to punch whoever is responsible for this… change, and fuck he has a few ideas…but he’ll get to that after he’s made Cas smile again.
But the other doesn’t even seem to notice him walking in, which is pretty fucking astounding, considering the racket he just made, or maybe he did notice and just doesn’t really care, he doesn’t like that thought. Slowly he makes his way across the room and sits down on the couch too, waits until the shifting of weight registers in Cas’s mind, the book carefully set down and a pale hand coming to rub at blue eyes.
“What do you wan-” He starts as he looks up, but cuts off, jumping back when he sees that it’s Dean sitting there. In an instant, he’s standing, terrified eyes on Dean for a moment, and then he turns his head, looks away .
Dean opens his mouth to say something, standing up as well, but Cas cuts him off.
“You have to go, Dean.” The tone is flat, voice empty, and Dean doesn’t understand what exactly he fucked up to get this greeting, furrows his brow and moves closer, tries to meet blue eyes.
“Why? Are you forbidden,” He uses the word he imagines that Rachel used with Cas, “to see me or some shit?” His stomach tightens when Cas still refuses to look at him, but he forces himself to keep talking, to try and get through, even though it suddenly feels like he’s up against a stone wall. “Since when do you let them order you around. You don’t want me to leave right?” He tries to keep his voice calm, but this isn’t going at all like it should.
Cas backs away again. “No one is making me do anything. I am the one telling you to leave my room. Only me and if you do not…” He trails off, unable to finish the sentence fully, but Dean cringes at the words anyway, they’re so… unlike Cas.
“Gonna call your guard dogs on me?” His eyes narrow, harden a little, but then Cas flinches and he can’t hold the anger. He’s not leaving without an explanation, though, he deserves that much, has to know what’s changed. “Cas?”
The other just shakes his head and doesn’t say anything, but if anything, the fact that Cas can’t look him in the eye has almost become a good thing. It makes him feel like Cas means none of this, that he’s just saying words. It fills him with reckless hope.
“Cas.” He starts softer, “I don’t get it. We were having fun, at the party we-“
“Got too close.” Cas finishes, guilt and anger dripping off his words, “I’m in love with Balthazar, Dean. And more than that,” He takes a furious breath. “He is in love with me. So much so that he actually told me that I had permission to try us out. I can’t just turn my back on that. Do you understand, Dean?” He pauses but when no answer comes, keeps speaking, “Sometimes, no matter how much you might want something, you can’t have it. Sometimes the situation is just wrong and you have to accept that.”
The room is silent for a moment, except for Cas’s shuddery breaths, and then Dean speaks, tilts his head until he’s found Cas’s eyes and speaks, softly “I don’t believe that.” They’re finally looking at each other, and the anguish in Cas’s eyes is shattering him, “I don’t believe that and neither do you.”
The other just shakes his head, eyes sad, and tries to look away, but Dean won’t let him. “Dean - I…” He starts but shuts his mouth again, biting his lip.
“Look,” Dean tries to be reasonable, but his heart is racing over here. “He gave you permission, so give me a shot. Please, one afternoon, just us, and then if you tell me to fuck off, I will. I just…” He hesitates, but if there was ever a time to put himself out there like a sucker, this is it. “I just, I could love you Cas. I feel it in my bones, there’s something, something here, that doesn’t happen you know, ever, and … and I can’t let you go without knowing you at least gave it a shot before you killed it for situation.” The last word curls sarcastically, but it’s all sincere, and he knows Cas can tell. “You owe me that,” he says quietly now, “You owe yourself that.”
Cas’s gaze looks so torn for a moment, so much want echoing around in his eyes, and for a moment, Dean hopes, but then the want leaves and the blue closes off again. His heart sinks.
“Please leave.”
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Dean blankly stares out at the ocean, trying to tell himself that it doesn’t matter, that they’ll land soon and he’ll forget all about this, but it doesn’t help. He’s angry and he’s sad, and there’s something twisted in him that he doesn’t like at all.
One shot. That’s all he wanted, just a chance to know, for them both to know.
But oh well, he was only fooling himself, he should have known a happily ever after wasn’t for him. He’ll start over, find someone to hunker down with for a few nights once he hits America, have some really good sex, and eventually this will fade. Only a couple of days out of his life right? He snorts, sure that’s it.
He’s just about to turn away , to go find something strong to burn away the thoughts, at least for now, and just fucking go to bed, when suddenly he feels a presence to his right, and he’s almost afraid to look. But he’s not a thirteen year old girl crying her eyes out over a silly love, so he steels himself and drops his gaze.
Cas is standing there, looking out into the ocean, but he refuses to hope anymore. “What do you want?” He asks, voice gruff.
Cas stays silent for a moment and then speaks, voice shaky but determined. “I changed my mind.” He says as if he’s steeling himself for an outburst, voice sad and tentative. “I couldn’t not know, so here I am. If that’s okay…”
A little angry part of Dean, wants to tell him to fuck off, but he figures this was a pretty difficult decision for Cas to make, and fuck, he wants it. So he lets the smile that he’s been holding back go. Maybe he should be more pissed, but Cas is here, and he isn’t backing away as Dean pulls him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and placing a kiss on his cheek, so really, it’s kinda hard to be mad.
“You have me till dark.”
That’s all he asks.
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“Can you draw me, Dean,” He asks seriously, breaking the comfortable silence they’ve settled into.
They’d walked around the deck for a while, visited the library, and then come back to his room, eaten a little and just curled up on the couch, Dean humming an off key tune, Cas with his book. He’d felt like maybe they should do more with their time, but shaken the thought from his head. What better way to judge how they are together, than by how they are when there’s nothing specific to be done. He likes the quiet moments best anyway.
It’s… very different than what he usually has with Balthazar, that much is clear, there’s nothing completely tangible that’s changed, both of them make him smile, both of them make him happy, but still, different - he can’t quite call it better , nor can he call it worse. This is... difficult. Thoughts of Balth make that hollow feeling come back though, so he tries not to let his mind dwell on the other. He’d promised Dean that he’d give him this time and he intends to do so. He’ll figure out exactly how he feels later, when he’s alone with his thoughts. But for now…
For now, he locks the thoughts away and watches as Dean shifts to look at him, arm moving out from where it was nestled behind his back, he seems a little bewildered by the question. “Draw you?”
Cas nods, he’s been thinking about it since he first saw Dean sketching. “Too many pictures of me looking like some alabaster statue, I want just one of me looking like me…” He hesitates, “And I think you can do that. Would you mind?” He hasn’t seen Dean draw anyone who was aware of what he was doing, while they’ve been together, but he had some portraiture in his sketchbook, he’ll of course understand if the other would rather do something else though.
A chuckle sounds, interrupting his thoughts, and Dean laughs easily, eyes warming on Cas, “Course I don’t,” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. “You know I love to look at you.”
Cas laughs at that, shaking his head, the urge to touch Dean overwhelming him again. Every time he gets nearer to the other though, his body yells at him to act, he’s been tempted to kiss Dean, for a while now, the thought having played on the outskirts of his mind ever since that night at the party. But while they’ve stayed close this whole time, brushes of skin and cloth that are half purposeful, half accidental, he hasn’t been able to quite bring himself to be more…intimate yet, something still holding him back.
Still, when he sees the flash of hunger in Dean’s eyes, as he pulls away to sit back down again, it sends shivers of desire down his spine. His voice wavers a little. “Where do you want me?”
Dean chuckles again, lips curling temptingly. But then he’s moving back and standing up to survey the room, face falling into thought.
“Babe, you’re the one who wants it to look like you, you sit wherever you want.” He says finally, and well, that makes an absurd amount of sense. He swats Dean lightly on the arm as he too gets up, looking around the room before finally deciding on one of the chairs that sit in front of the big window, the one that looks out onto the ocean. It’s his favorite spot in the afternoon, the sunset light falling golden on the floor. He moves the chair so that it’s centered in front of the window, shrugs off the top layer of his clothing, left only in a thin shirt, and sits, waiting.
Dean watches him unabashedly for a moment and then drags the arm chair over, grabbing his sketchbook from his bag, before settling down so that he’s directly in front of Cas. Directing the other a little to the right, and then to tilt his head, as he settles down himself, and then murmurs, “Don’t move.” The words making other, different, images unfold in his mind, again, seems to happen more often than not with Cas, but he forces himself away from the dirty thoughts and to the task at hand, Cas wants a drawing and a drawing he’ll get.
His eyes move down Cas’s form, mentally planning it out on the page, but they pause on Cas’s chest, and he frowns, fixated on the spot.
“What?” Cas asks, following his gaze, “is there something wron- “But he cuts off as he sees what exactly Dean is staring at, Balthazar’s necklace. “Dean - “ There’s a hint of anxiety in his voice, he doesn’t want Dean to ask him to take it off, he … he can’t.
“He gave that to you.” It’s not a question, and the anxiety recombines with guilt, everything managing to hit him all over again, no matter how lost in this fantasy he gets, reality always creeps back. He struggles to hold it at bay. The sun is still shining after all, this is Dean’s time.
“Yes.”
Dean bites his lip, and goes back to the paper, still looking grim before pausing again, standing up while fiddling with something around his own neck, and then moves to layer the second necklace on top of the diamond. Cas looks down as the weight settles around his neck, it’s a small metal amulet, a carved golden face. He’s never seen Dean without it, had even glimpsed it tucked under his tux at dinner.
“So we can be accurate.” Dean says, returning to his seat.
Cas nods, accurate indeed. He takes one more look at the chains entwining on his neck, a perfect representation of the chains binding him to them both, and then brings his head up again, trying to find the spot Dean had placed him in. “Okay.” He says, “Okay.”
The tension fades away again as Cas relaxes into his seat, letting his mind be wiped blank by the hypnotic movements of Dean’s fingers dancing on the page, intent on their work. Dean looks up then down and then up again, mapping out every inch of Cas’s body with his eyes.
It’s far more intimate than he expected it to be and his heart starts to pound faster as the minutes slide by, his skin flushing as the burning sun, creeping slowly down, mixes with the heat of Dean’s eyes, stirring something that boils in his veins, especially as the gaze starts to focus… lower.
His breath catches.
Even though he’s clothed, it’s as though Dean is stripping him bare, taking layer after layer off with his eyes and his pencil.
By the time Dean rips the sheet out of his sketchbook, folding it, and stands up, crossing the room to him, sketch outstretched, an easy grin on his lips, the sun is gone, and Cas feels about ready to explode, his whole body feverish .
He takes it, but doesn’t open it, not just yet, instead, acting on instinct, leans forward and then Dean’s lips are on him and it’s better than he thought it would. All afternoon, he’s been thinking about this, but couldn’t do it. But now…now that Dean knows every curve of his body, every inch of his skin, has studied and replicated him, to his core, a kiss no longer feels that intimate anymore, not in comparison. They’ve finally truly found each other.
And it’s…it’s better than he’d thought it would be, magnetic, addictive and yet… his head spins, and he feels flustered all of a sudden, emotions overloading him, too many sensations furiously twisting their way through him.
“It’s dark,” He whispers, pulling away, “You have to go.” His body yells at his mind angrily, telling it to give in, to take what it wants, it growls loudly with want, especially as Dean moves in again.
The second kiss is as good as the first, dark and sweet, raw. “I could,” He agrees, “or I could stay.”
“Tomorrow,” He forces himself to say, even if it’s a little breathless. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Even as he says it, he suddenly doesn’t want Dean to leave. He leans forward and kisses him again, a longer, deeper kiss, Dean’s hands finding his hips and pulling him closer.
Then the other lets go, and Castiel has to bite back the protest that threatens to erupt, and he’s out the door.
The dark room feels even darker and he sighs, finally opening the folded paper with shuddering hands, eyes falling on the two tokens across his neck.
What he really wants is both of them.
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Dean walks out, wishing he could have stayed back in. But Cas wants to think, so he’ll let him.
Fuck. He’s so lost in thought he runs straight into someone heading in the opposite direction.
“Sorry,” He mumbles, looking up and frowning. The person has stopped walking and is grinning at him, a try at what he supposes is a friendly smile, but really it’s just fucking creepy.
“Not a problem.” The guy says, nodding - Dean just shrugs and walks away.
It’s only just when he turns the corner, that he realizes the other is knocking on Cas’s door. For a moment, he has a mad urge to go back. But it’s probably nothing, he reasons with himself as he heads out of the hall and towards the lower deck.
Probably nothing.
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Cas is still looking at the drawing when he hears a knock on his door, his heart starting to race at the sound. He wonders what Dean needs so soon after just having left. His mind certainly knows what it would like Dean to want, and he tries to ignore the half constructed images that start flitting through his mind - no, Dean probably just forgot something.
The knock comes again, and he moves quickly to answer it, slight smile appearing on his face, he wants to see the other again, he realizes, even if it hasn’t been more than ten minutes since they parted… but his face falls quickly. It’s not Dean standing there, not at all.
“Zachariah,” He greets tentatively, wondering what in the world the man might want. They haven’t really spoken much ever, though, he is Balth’s business associate, maybe he’s looking for him. That’s probably it, he supposes, must be some kind of company talk to be had. “How… very nice to see you.”
It’s a lie, of course, he has no fondness for the man, though he doesn’t really know him. Whenever they do meet, Zachariah always seems to be able to make him feel acutely uncomfortable, no matter how pleasant his words may be. And his eyes always seem to be on him, whenever he turns around, it’s… disquieting.
Truth be told, he has enough to deal with, without speaking to someone that he tolerates at best, and has to fight off the almost overwhelming urge to simply shut the door in the other’s face, but no matter how many first class rules he’s been breaking lately, he can’t be rude - not without provocation. Zachariah is rich and he’s powerful, not one to anger unless necessary.
“Balth isn’t here.” He adds, when Zachariah does nothing but stare at him intensely, too intensely. He hopes it will make the other go away, “He’s- ”
“Oh,” a chuckle sounds, “I didn’t come here to see him, don’t you worry. I know he isn’t here.” He pauses, laughing as Cas frowns, the last sentence making him wish Balth was here. His hand clenches around the door handle, and Zachariah must notice, because his voice turns just a shade more menacing. “Aren’t you going to invite me in Cassy? I came all this way. ”
No, he wants to say, I really wasn’t really intending to, but he can’t find a reason to turn him away, so he shrugs and move backwards into the room, but doesn’t go far. “It’s Castiel,” He says, hoping it sounds more like a polite correction than an angry growl, it’s not usually like him to snap, but with every second that stretches on, this whole situation is making him more and more wary, his stomach starting to clench in uncomfortable knots. And as the door shuts with a slight slam, the feeling only doubles. They’re shut in together and suddenly he feels trapped.
He tries to wave the feelings away. It’s foolish to be worried, the man is just here to visit, to talk about himself for ages as he always seems to whenever he finds a willing audience. Zachariah makes his hair stand on end, but he’s not a criminal, is still a fellow first class passenger, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s perfectly safe in his room and the door is right there if for some reason he needs to leave. But why would he? Zach is probably just bored, as most are by now, wants a change of company. He’ll go soon enough. Sure, he makes Cas uncomfortable, but he’s probably just blowing this out of proportion in his head. Zach works with Balth, he wouldn’t try anything.
“I’ve been trying to see you for a while now.” The older man starts an easy stroll around the room, running his fingers over the books in the bookshelf, glancing around at the paintings. His eyes fall from place to place in the room, until they land on Dean’s sketch lying open on the table.
Cas has the urge to yank it away, anger working itself into the anxiety that refuses to leave him. He doesn’t want the other looking at it, or touching it, but he remains standing stiffly where he is, fists clenching.
“Did you know?” Zachariah turns to face Cas again.
He swallows hard, frantically searching for something to say in response, something that doesn’t amount to “I would like nothing more than for you to get out of this room.”
“Ididn’t, no.” He cringes when there’s a waver in his voice and struggles to make sure that his next words come out even. “Well, if you’d like, we could schedule a din - ”
“No,” Zachariah cuts him off, with a shake of his head, walking closer.
Cas can’t help but take a step back on reflex. The other notices, he knows, and looks pleased, eyes losing their cool amusement in favor of something darker, something predatory. Cas’s eyes flit towards the door and then back to Zach - he tries to keep his breathing even.
“No, that’s not what I want.”
He stays silent, not wanting to say anything that might encourage the other, even though Zach pauses as though he’s waiting for Cas to ask what he does want which is the last thing he’s about to do. His stomach turns at the thought, at the implications that have been slowly forming this entire time - he shouldn’t have let the other into his room.
“What I want,” Zachariah continues, “is a little less… formal.” He grins, baring his teeth. “And judging by your pretty, swollen little lips, and your mostly un-tucked shirt, you know exactly what I mean.”
His gaze rolls up and down Cas’s body, “Been having fun slutting around with your little pet?”
The words shock him, even though they shouldn’t, their sheer ugliness making him shudder, all he knows is that he has to get far away from Zach and soon. “I hardly,” he says quietly, proud that he sounds angry and not scared, even though the terror is quickly rising, “See how that is any concern of yours.” His glare only earns another chuckle from the other, “and I would,” he tries to sound self assured, authoritative, “Appreciate if you leave my room now and take yourself and your needless words elsewhere.”
Zachariah smirks, “Well that was just immensely threatening,” He laughs and closes the distance between them before Cas can pull away, grabbing his wrist and pulling him closer, all semblance of friendliness gone. Cas wonders how long Zachariah has been planning this. “But I don’t really appreciate the tone.” His grip tightens, bruising, and he leans their faces close together. “So you would do well to lose it.”
This has spiraled so far out of control that he can barely believe it’s actually happening. All he knows right now is that he has to get away from Zachariah, and fast. Needs to find people, find Balth, find Dean, and get somewhere safe - so he can think.
He tries to pull away, to yank his arm out, but the grip holds and Zach only laughs - right, he knows he’s not strong enough to physically pull away, but they’re by the door… all he needs is someone to pass by and…
“Help!” He yells as loudly as he can, “Help, please, there’s an emergency.”
But that’s all he manages to get out before the back of Zach’s hand connects with his face, sending it reeling sideways with a snap, he can barely see straight, and it hurts, he finds as he tries to right himself, to start yelling again, it really hurts.
“How very feisty.” Another slap and he sees stars this time, Zachariah threading his fingers through his hair and all but purring in his ear. “I don’t know why you’re struggling.” He tries to pull himself away, “You seem more than happy to go around whoring yourself out to brainless beggars, not worth the sole of my shoe, and that tells me,” There’s some almost anger there now, a deranged kind of glee, “that you really aren’t that picky when it comes to who gets to have you. So I’m helping myself.”
He laughs and Cas finally manages to raise his head enough, cheek throbbing, to grind out, “Someone is going to come in here.” He tries to sound threatening, tries ignore how overpowered he is right now. “And they are going to find you. Is that really worth this?”
The older man lays a rough kiss on his cheek and whispers, “There isn’t a man on this ship that I can’t buy off, but you’re right, too much risk of interruption here.” He’s pulled roughly from the wall, a heavy arm slinging itself over his shoulders and suddenly there’s cold metal against his side.
“That’s why you’re coming with me.”
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