Suburban War - Chapter 10, Part 2
John gets to come home from the hospital two days later. Mary, Dean, and Sam all fuss over him as they tuck him into the Impala and drive him home, laughing when he finally has enough of it four hours later, and demands that he be left alone to “take a piss alone in my own house, thank you very much.”
It’s even stranger for Dean to be back in his parents' house now that his dad is home. It still doesn’t feel like home the way it used to, and Dean’s not even sure if he ever wants it to feel that way again. Things can’t go back to the way they were before; too much has changed, and he’s grown too much to go back to that life. A part of him misses it, will always miss his childhood, and will regret the way it ended so quickly. But he realizes more than ever now that it’s time to move on and decide where he needs to be.
After several days of being cooped up at home, John begs Dean to take him out driving around. Dean is taken aback, a little uncomfortable at the thought of being confined in a car and alone with his dad for any length of time. He’d been able to avoid being alone with him for any significant length of time, up until this point. He worries that old wounds will be broached, and he really doesn’t want to fight with his dad, especially given all that’s happened lately.
Once they’re settled in the Impala, Dean looks over to John. “Where to?”
“I don’t care, just somewhere out of this driveway,” his dad laughs. “Between being stuck in the hospital and now being stuck in the house for so long, I’m starting to get claustrophobic.”
Dean smiles, putting the Impala in reverse and back out of the driveway. “That’s understandable. I think it’d be driving me crazy, too.”
He ends up driving them to Bobby’s garage, hanging back while John and Bobby talk about the goings on at work. Bobby refuses to get into details, since John isn’t supposed to be worrying about work and talking shop. John gets flustered and exasperated that Bobby’s so concerned with his health, and Dean ends up laughing at how they act like an old married couple. He keeps expecting them to go find some rocking chairs to sit in as they yell at kids to get off their lawn, and when he points this out to them, Bobby smacks him upside the head with his baseball cap.
After leaving Bobby’s, John asks Dean to take the Impala out onto the highway. “How ’bout we let her breathe a bit and stretch her legs?”
Dean can’t say no to taking the Impala out onto the highway, grinning as they roll the windows down as they pick up speed to let in some of the cold, brisk air.
“So, your mother told me about your talk the other day,” John says, after they roll the windows back up when it gets too chilly.
Dean tenses up, not wanting to have another heart-to-heart, especially not with his dad. “Dad, we don’t have to-”
“Dean, I want you to know that I have never regretted anything that I’ve done for the sake of my family,” John says.
Dean can feel his dad staring at him, but he keeps his own eyes on the road ahead. “I know, Dad. I was just a stupid kid, I didn’t know what I was thinking.”
John returns his gaze to the window. “And son, I’m sorry about the whole military school thing. I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I assumed what would have worked for me would work for you.” He reaches forward to turn the radio volume down, and rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I was wrong, and I will always regret making you feel you had no choice but to run away.”
Dean doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, so he just nods, shooting his father a grateful look before returning his eyes to the road. They drive in silence for several minutes, and Dean is beginning to think the serious talk is over, but then John clears his throat.
“Everything that’s happened…it’s made me realize I shouldn’t let things go unsaid. I’m very proud of you, son. Not for running away and never calling us - that was the worst time of my life, and your mom’s, too - but for what you did with yourself when you went away. And of the person you’ve become.”
Dean spares a look at his father, and John smiles when their eyes meet. “Thanks, Dad,” he says, voice hoarse with emotion.
“You’ve become a man that I’m proud to call my son,” John continues. He shifts in his seat, looking out the passenger window at the bare trees zooming past along the side of the highway. “And I just…” He exhales, and Dean glances over to see his mouth moving, as if he’s trying to speak but can’t find the words. “I just want you to know, that whatever you’re doing, and whoever you’re with…as long as you’re happy, I will always be proud of you and happy for you.”
Dean’s heart beats faster as his body goes still. Did he…did Dad just give him and Castiel his blessing? Dean wasn’t even aware his dad knew anything about what was going on between them. Did his mom tell him about them, or had they been that obvious to everyone? He can feel his cheeks flushing from embarrassment, both over realizing that his dad knows about his gay relationship with his best friend, and over just how happy it makes him to have his father’s approval of his feelings for Castiel and what he’s made of his life, so far.
“Maybe, if you go up to see Castiel in Seattle, I’ll let you take the Impala,” John says, a nostalgic note to his voice.
Dean whips his head around to stare at his father in disbelief. “What? You’d let me take Baby?”
John smiles, meeting Dean’s gaze. “I think maybe it’s time for her to move on with you. I think she’s missed getting out on the open road, and she deserves someone young that will take her out for adventures every once in a while.”
“Dad, I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, you can start with promising to take as good care of her as I always have,” John laughs. “And by taking notes when I go over all her maintenance stuff. If I find out you’re not staying on top of her care, then I’ll snatch her right back.”
Dean nods quickly. “Oh yeah, I’d never neglect her! She’ll be in good hands.”
John leans forward, sliding a hand along her smooth dashboard. “I know, son. I’d never doubt you.”
Dean looks over at his father, and returns his smile. “Thanks, Dad. For everything you said, and for the Impala, and for…for everything.”
John nods silently, reaching over to slap a hand across Dean’s shoulder. They drive in silence the rest of the way home, enjoying the ride.
********************
Another morning of staring at the treehouse through the kitchen as he drinks his cup of coffee makes Dean feel like a stalker. So many firsts happened within those walls, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t scared to face the memories head-on. He would have thought, after all this time, that things wouldn’t still feel so raw, but in a way, it feels worse. Because he’s started letting himself hope again, hope that maybe they can find their way back to each other, after everything that’s happened. All the excuses that he’s told himself over the past year - that Castiel is better off without him, that maybe Castiel didn’t care for him as much as he’d hoped, that maybe Castiel was glad to be rid of him - they’re all starting to feel flimsy and weak. Like maybe they were things he was telling himself to make himself feel better for abandoning what they had.
Dean sets his coffee mug down on the counter, and takes a deep breath. Just buck up and go out there, he thinks. Stop obsessing and do it.
The rungs of the ladder feel smaller underneath his hands, which is ridiculous because it’s not like he grew into a giant while he was away. Once he climbs into the treehouse, his heart clenches as he takes a look around. The place looks deserted and unused, which is no surprise, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. This place was the center of their world for so long, and it’s seen so many things. He crawls over to one of the bean bags, wiping away a few dead leaves and twigs.
He lies back in the lumpy chair, closing his eyes to all the dust and leaves that have collected over the year. It’s so quiet up here, the cold of the dreary winter morning making the silence almost deafening. He wonders if it was always this quiet, and maybe their fun and laughter forced the silence away. But even when they were sitting up here and quiet together, the silence was never this overwhelming and oppressive.
Dean lets his gaze wander around the dwelling, taking in all the books and pictures and other items that were left up here. It looks like Sam has been watching over the telescope and other items more dear to them, and he’s grateful for that. It seems like Sam is always there, waiting to take care of them, and pick up the pieces when they break.
His eyes are drawn to the corner behind the other bean bag, where their secret notebox is. Over the years, they'd ended up using the compartment more as a mailbox than anything like a time capsule, as had been originally planned. They'd leave notes and surprises for each other occasionally, but once they reached high school, their cell phones kind of made the compartment unnecessary. The piece of wood that keeps the compartment snug and unnoticeable is loose, and behind it Dean can see paper sticking out. He crawls over to it, pulling the slat loose, and when he does, a stack of notes falls out. They’ve been bound together with string, and with shaking hands, Dean pulls the string loose. He opens the first note to find Castiel’s neat, clean handwriting:
Dean-
Where are you? I called your cell phone, but you’re not answering, and when I called Sam he said you’re missing.
You didn’t run away, did you? Please be here.
Call me.
Cas
Dean’s stomach twists with guilt. He pulls open the next note.
It’s been days. WHERE ARE YOU??? Are you still here and just hiding? Why would you run away without even saying anything? If you’re still here, I’m going to kick your ass for scaring me and everybody else like this.
CALL ME PLEASE
-Cas
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dean knew it was probably tearing people up when he left without saying a word, but knowing that and reading Castiel’s frantic words as it was happening are two very different things. He wants to stop, but he can’t seem to look away as he opens up the next several notes.
Dean-
I can’t believe you just left like that without looking back. How could you? How could you just walk away without me??? I know we had a fight, but I thought we’d made up. I’m sorry I yelled at you, I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important to me.
I wish you would just call me. Why didn’t you take your phone? Where did you go???
- C
Dean-
When you asked me to run away with you, did you even think for one second about why I wouldn’t want to? Dean, my sister ran away. And when I saw how much damage and pain Anna caused without looking back, there’s no way I could do that, too. I don’t care how much my father pisses me off, no one deserves that.
I never told you about my mother. I kept waiting for you to ask, but I guess you could tell it wasn't an easy subject for me. She died while giving birth to me, so I never knew her. I think a part of me always blamed myself for her being gone, and I think the reason I've agreed to my father's wishes all my life is because I felt guilty. I don't know. All I know is no matter how much of a dick he is, I couldn't just up and run away like Anna did.
I wish you had stayed around long enough for me to tell you all of that.
- C
Dean -
Sam just told me you left a note for him, but nothing for me. So I wasn’t even worthy of one of those Dear John letters? Did you really have nothing to say to me???
I hate you so much right now, Dean. Fuck you.
- C
Dean -
It’s springtime, and everybody is getting excited about graduation and summer break and going away to college, and all I can do is think about you and wonder where you are and hope you’re safe. Is it wrong that a part of me almost wishes you were dead or in a hospital somewhere, so that would explain why you haven’t come home?
Do you ever even miss me?
-C
Dean-
I don’t know why I keep writing these notes and leaving them here for you. Maybe it’s cathartic for me. But I miss my best friend, and I miss telling you things that I know only you will understand, like how sometimes I still think about old man Joshua, and I wonder, if there is a heaven, if he keeps a garden up there for his wife and his daughter. Or would that be more his wife’s version of heaven?
I miss my version of heaven. Sometimes, when I wake up from dreaming, I hear myself call your name, but when I open my eyes you’re still not there.
-C
Dean-
I fought with my father today. I’ve decided I don’t want to be a doctor. I want to go to art school. Anna convinced me at the beginning of this school year to send an application and some of my drawings into the college where she goes to school, and they awarded me a scholarship. I never told you this because I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do.
There’s so many things I didn’t tell you before that I should have. I hated feeling like I had to do what everyone expected of me and feeling like I was boxed into a kind of life that wasn’t for me. I was just so scared and unsure of myself. You were always so fearless and open and loved life too much to be afraid, I didn’t think you’d understand, and I didn’t want you to pity me or feel like I was dragging you down. It’s funny, right? I was so scared of holding you back, and turns out you were afraid of holding me back, too.
Why didn’t we just talk to each other about it? We weren’t scared to talk to each other about other things, so why this?
-C
Dean curses to himself, staring out the window through the bare branches. He was such a fucking idiot. Why didn’t he see all along that Castiel felt just like he did? It could have saved him a lot of heartache if he’d just been brave enough to open up to him.
There’s only a couple more notes left, so he folds open the next one in the stash.
Dean-
It’s summertime, and I keep thinking about how different everything was this time last year. There were a thousand times over the years since we first met that I’ve wanted to kiss you. Honestly, I think I’ve wanted it since the moment we first met, though I didn’t understand my feelings at the time.
You were the most brilliantly beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I know how much you hate it when I say things like that, but you’re not here to yell at me and brush it off, so I’m going to say it now, without restraint. In that first moment I saw you, you became my world, and I was so desperate to feel worthy of your friendship. I would have been happy just to be friends for the rest of our lives, if it meant I got to be near you.
That first time we kissed, right before high school, I wanted to die. Because it was everything I’d wanted, but I knew I’d never have it again. And then the second time we kissed, I wanted to die because I didn’t think I could ever be that happy again.
And now it’s summer, and I’m remembering how I said I planned to kiss every inch of you someday. I’m bitter because you left before I got the chance. I’m remembering how you taste, and I wish I knew how you taste everywhere. I’m remembering how you felt inside me, and I’m jealous of you because I never got the chance to return the favor. I want to feel the inside of you, to taste the inside of you, and a part of me hates you for going away before I could.
Sometimes I wish I could forget you. Could run off and start a new life, just like you did. Are you letting someone else touch you now? Have you let someone else inside?
- C
Dean-
I leave for Seattle in a few days. I’m happy because it means I can finally get away from here. I didn’t used to hate being in Lawrence. Not until you left. Now every street and every corner and every playground haunt me because each one holds a memory of you.
I’ve decided Seattle is the start of my new life without you. So I’m leaving behind everything that reminds me of you. And I’m not going to draw anymore pictures of you.
I know what you’re thinking. I never drew any pictures of you, right? That’s what I always told you because I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to share my drawings of you with anybody because I’m a jealous, selfish fool who was too greedy to share the one thing of you that was completely my own. You have always been my favorite subject to draw, from the first day we met. I have wasted so many hours trying to perfect the bow of your lip, the green of your eyes, the slender curve of your fingers, the freckles across your back.
So I’m leaving here all the drawings I kept of you. I doubt you’ll find them, or if you’ll even come here again, but if you do, maybe now you’ll know fully what I was always too afraid to say.
If you still don’t get it, let me bottom-line it for you:
I love you.
I have always loved you. And I’ve no doubt a part of me always will.
But I can’t keep doing this, Dean. I can’t keep hoping you’ll return to me, I can’t keep being pissed at you, and I can’t keep my life on hold while I wait for a day that will never come.
Wherever you are, I truly hope you are happy. I hope you found whatever it is you felt you needed. Is it selfish to hope you miss me as much as I still miss you?
I guess I’ll always be selfish when it comes to you.
- C
Dean tries to wipe away the tears running down his cheeks, but it only makes him cry harder. He sits against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, and sobs. He can’t believe how fucking stupid he was to leave Castiel like this. He should have seen it, he should have known Castiel’s feelings were as strong as his own. Why was he so wrapped up in his own insecurities to not see it?
He cries himself out, wrapping his arms tight around his stomach. All those times he was hurting and feeling sorry for himself, he hadn’t even realized that he’d hurt Castiel that much more by running away without a word.
He thinks of Castiel writing that he was leaving his drawings here, so he twists around to stick his hand into their compartment where the letters had been stashed. He feels around, not being able to see down inside the hole, and his hand finally comes upon a notebook. He pulls it out carefully, realizing it’s not a notebook but a sketchpad, full of drawings, with other loose pieces of paper bound to it.
He opens the pad, and the first drawing he sees is one of him when they were ten. It must have been one of the first drawings Castiel did of him, and his age shows in his talent, but it’s still a good picture. It captures Dean balancing on a log laid across one of the creeks behind Castiel’s house, and Dean smiles when he recognizes the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s one of Castiel’s, and Dean knows exactly when this drawing takes place because he remembers one time he was eating lunch at Castiel’s house and he’d spilt Kool-Aid on his shirt. Missouri had tsked and chided him, making him take the shirt off so she could wash it while they played outside.
The next several drawings are of Dean still young, either running or laughing or smiling, staring straight through the canvas. Dean knows Castiel is drawing him as he’s looking at Castiel, because even then Dean always had a special smile only for Cas.
The drawings get better as the subject gets older, lines more sure and intricate in detail. There are quite a few of Dean at the lake, what must have been that first summer they discovered it. Dean staring off at the water, deep in thought and unaware of being seen. Dean naked from the waist up, lying on the pier with eyes closed, beads of sweat and water dancing in the sunlight across his skin. These drawings are more intimate, almost sensual as the lines of his body are appreciated with strokes of charcoal and colored pencil.
There are pictures of Dean in his baseball uniform, smiling out on the field in the hot summer sun, and pictures of him on his motorcycle, leaning back on the seat as if waiting for Castiel to climb on. As he gets closer to the end of the sketchpad, it’s obvious that the drawings were created after their relationship changed. There are drawings of Dean asleep in bed, his chest bare and sheets pooling around his waist, with eyelashes fanning across his cheek and lips barely parted. The detail is stunning, and each pencil stroke looks almost like a caress against his skin.
All of these pictures, from all these years, it’s overwhelming for Dean. He’d spent all this time believing Castiel didn’t think he was interesting enough to draw, and in the back of his mind he’d used this as just one more piece of proof that Castiel didn’t care for him as much as Dean wanted. But all of this, it shows that nothing could have been further from the truth.
“Hey, Dean! You up here?” Sam calls from the ground below.
“Uh, yeah, Sammy, what’s up?” When he hears his brother start to climb up the ladder, Dean wipes the remaining tears off his face, and quickly but carefully pulls the sketchpad back together and closes it, not wanting anyone else to see something so personal between him and Castiel.
“Hey, Mom wanted to know if you were gonna be eating lunch with us or if you were going somewhere.” Sam climbs into the treehouse, sitting down on the floor next to Dean.
Dean looks at Sam, and then away, staring at the branches outside the window. “I’ve been such an idiot, Sammy.”
“Um, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to decide what you wanna do about lunch,” Sam snorts.
Dean shoots him a look. “I’m not talking about lunch, assface. I’m talking about…everything else.”
Sam sighs. “Well, duh, you have been an idiot about everything else.” He bumps his shoulder against Dean’s, and smiles. “Is this about Cas?”
Dean nods, but doesn’t say anything, not knowing even where to begin. But as usual, Sammy doesn’t need him to explain. “Well, you came back and fixed things between all of us. Why couldn’t you do the same with him?”
“But what if he doesn’t want to ever see me again?”
“You’ll never know until you try, right?” Sam asks. “Look, all I know is the two of you…you’re better together, instead of apart. And I think it’s stupid for you to stay away from each other out of pride or because you think the other is better off. You were miserable without him, right?”
Dean chews on his lip. “Yeah.”
Sam nods. “He was miserable without you, too. He didn’t like to show it, and pretended he was fine and coping, but I know him enough to know he was miserable.”
“But what if he’s happy now, in Seattle?”
“Like I said, you won’t know until you go to him,” Sam retorts, exasperated. “Instead of running away scared like you did before, why don’t you try running to him?”
Dean stares at Sam, his eyes narrow and suspicious. “Did Mom tell you to say that?”
“Why would Mom tell me to tell you to go running to your boyfriend?”
Dean huffs. “Because she was saying something like that the other day. That maybe I needed to find something I wanted to run to, instead of running away from everything.”
Sam purses his lips, thinking. “Well, at least we know one of us got the Campbell intelligence.”
Dean guffaws, pushing against Sam with his shoulder and ruffling his hair as he stands up. “I’ll let that one pass, on account of I owe you for not hitting me with the puppy dog eyes to make me feel guilty for running away.”
Sam follows him as they climb down the ladder. “I’m saving the puppy dog eyes for something really important, like convincing you to take me somewhere for my graduation present in a few years.”
“Heh, maybe that’ll give me plenty of time to build up my immunity to the puppy dog eyes,” Dean jokes, pulling his brother in for a hug.
Through lunch and the rest of the afternoon, Dean's thoughts keep returning to Castiel’s letters, and to what Sam and their mom said. He knows if he doesn’t go to Castiel, he will spend the rest of his life wondering what if? What if he’d just gotten up the courage to finally go to Castiel and admit that he needed him? What if he could spend the rest of his life with Castiel by his side? What if they could finally stop trying to live by everyone else’s rules and make up their own rules as they go?
What if, instead of being afraid and running away, he ran towards the one person he knows he could spend the rest of his life being happy with?
********************
Dean is on the road to Seattle the following day.
He’d been hesitant to tell his parents once he’d finally made up his mind to go. He didn’t want them to feel like he was abandoning them again, especially now when his dad is on the mend and his mom still needs support with everything. But all it’d taken was him giving her a hug and whispering in her ear, “I think I figured out what I want to run to,” and the moment she heard the word Seattle she was packing up supplies and sandwiches for the long road trip ahead.
Dean calls Missouri that morning to get Anna’s contact information. He wants to make this as much of a surprise as he can, though he has no idea yet how he’s going to approach Castiel. He figures if he can convince Anna to help him out, then everything else will fall into place.
As he’s packing up the Impala, John and Mary follow him around, giving him advice on the road trip, and worrying over him and the length of the drive. He supposes maybe they feel the need to make up for not getting the chance to do this the first time he went away, so he humors them, and even revels in the worry and attention a little bit. It starts to go from cute to embarrassing though, when they both start to give him advice about Castiel.
“Have you thought about how you’re going to approach Castiel?” Mary asks, tucking blankets into the back seat in case the car quits on him in the freezing cold.
Dean can feel his face flushing, and it burns even hotter when he notices his dad watching and smiling at him. “No, I thought I’d figure it out on the drive there.”
“Would you like me to bake up some of his favorite cookies?”
“What? No, Mom, I don’t think peanut butter chocolate chip cookies are what’s gonna sway him in my favor,” Dean replies, trying to hide his exasperation.
John chuckles behind him. “I don’t know, Dean, your mom’s cookies would make me take notice, if someone was trying to woo me.”
Dean waves them both away from him as he runs back into the house, using the excuse of needing to take one last piss as a chance to get away from them. When he steps back outside, Sam is waiting next to the Impala with their parents. “Hey, Dean, I made you a road trip CD last night,” he says, handing over the CD in its sleeve.
“Oh. Wow, thanks, Sammy,” Dean says, adding, “I hope there’s no emo shit on this one.”
“Dean! Language!” Mary admonishes, with John laughing behind her.
Once he’s packed up and promises to call them frequently to let them know how he’s faring on the road, Dean backs out of the driveway slowly. The three of them wave as he pulls away, and he smiles and waves back, swallowing down the lump in his throat. As much as he hates his father having a heart attack and almost dying, he’s grateful he got the chance to set things right. He’d missed his family more than he even realized, and he makes a promise to himself that he’ll never go that long without seeing them again.
He leans forward, popping the CD into the player, wondering what in the hell convinced his dad to install a CD player into the Impala in the first place. But before he can think on it too long, Sam’s voice comes out over the speakers.
“Hey, Dean. I thought you might like a mix CD of songs that will get you pumped up to find Cas and proclaim your undying love to him, so these songs are for the two of you. Hope you like it!”
Dean narrows his eyes at the road in front of him, suspicious, and when the first riffs of that godawful 500 Miles song starts playing, Dean jumps in surprise. “Oh, fuck you, Sammy!” he yells, but instead of turning it off, he lets the song play, smiling despite himself, as he begins the two-thousand mile trek to Castiel.
********************
It takes three days to reach Seattle. Dean is anxious to get there, but he still enjoys the long drive. This is the kind of trip he’d always dreamed of making in the Impala. Of course, in his fantasies, it was summertime instead of the dead of winter, and he had Sam or Castiel along with him, instead of being on his own. But it’s close enough to make him content for the moment, and he’s hoping the result of the trip will have Castiel by his side soon enough.
He’s also grateful for the extra time so that he can think about how to talk to Castiel, and convince him to give Dean another chance. He knows Castiel is probably still pissed at him, and he has every right to be. He’s not going to try to talk him out of his anger. He just needs to make Castiel see that if he’s willing to work through that, and willing to let Dean begin to try to make things up to him, then maybe they can figure out a way to be a part of each other’s lives again.
Dean does his best not to get his hopes up because he knows that what he did to Castiel could be considered unforgivable. But he’d always regret it if he didn’t at least try, and now that he has a plan for approaching Castiel, maybe things really will work out.
The evening before he arrives in Seattle, he gives Anna a call. He never really knew her much before she ran away from home. He’s not even sure she’ll remember him, but as soon as he says his name, he can feel the cold shoulder through the phone line.
“Why are you calling me, Dean?”
Dean figures he should at least be grateful she hasn’t hung up on him yet. “I’m coming to Seattle to see Cas.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, given you’re a shitty asshole who stomped all over his heart and abandoned him.”
Ouch. He deserves that. “Look, trust me, I know I’m a shitty asshole,” Dean admits, “and no way I deserve him, and if I need to spend the rest of my life groveling at his feet to try and make it up to him, I will. That’s why I’m coming.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“I need your help.”
Dean has to hold the phone away from his ear to drown out her laughter. “You hurt my brother,” she clips out then. “Why would I ever want to help you?”
Dean exhales loudly. “I don’t know, maybe because you know I could make him happy?”
There’s silence on the other end for several seconds, and Dean starts to wonder if she hung up on him, before she speaks again. “You know, Missouri called me and warned me that you were coming. She told me to give you a chance.”
Dean never in a million years would have thought Missouri would have been one of his biggest cheerleaders, but it seems there is a lot he still has yet to learn. “Anna, please.”
She sighs. “What do you need me to do?”
He pumps a fist in the air, and makes a mental note to hug the fuck out of Missouri next time he sees her. “Just tell me what Cas’s school schedule is and the names of his teachers. I can do the rest.”
********************
It takes a lot of begging and pleading and flirting, along with a crisp fifty-dollar bill, to convince the assistant professor currently teaching Castiel’s English Composition class to go along with his plan. Dean stands outside in the hallway, peeking through the tiny window in the door. When he catches a glimpse of Castiel sitting in the back of the classroom, hair ruffled and sweatshirt hanging loose over his frame, his stomach starts turning cartwheels. After all this time, seeing Castiel still gives him butterflies in the best ways.
When the professor passes out the quizzes for everyone to get started on, Dean waits five minutes, as was planned, and then opens the door and steps up to the teacher’s desk. He looks down at the professor, who smirks up at him and rolls her eyes, and hands her a piece of paper.
She clears her throat, and begins to speak. “Excuse me everyone, it seems we have a new student to introduce,” she announces, reading the script he’d written for her. He wasn’t sure if this is how it happened word-for-word, but he figures it’ll be close enough. “Everyone, this is Dean Winchester, transferring here from Lawrence High.”
Dean tries not to look at Castiel, doing his best to perform this the way it played out the first time so long ago, but he can’t help but glance up quickly as he walks to a seat near the front row. The look of shock on Castiel’s face would be enough to make Dean laugh in any other situation, but instead he just takes his seat quietly amidst the curious stares of the other students, and hopes the rest of his plan goes just as smoothly.
When the professor dismisses everyone at the end of class, Dean fidgets with the notebook in his hand, delaying himself as much as he can to see if Castiel will approach him. A part of him is deeply terrified that Castiel will just walk out of the room without looking back. If he does, Dean doesn’t know what he’ll do.
After what feels like hours, he spots movement out of the corner of his eye, and looks up to find Castiel standing next to his desk. “What are you doing here, Dean?” Castiel asks softly.
Dean smiles at him, hesitant and hopeful. “I’m attending school, obviously. Or, actually, pretending to attend.”
Castiel’s eyes flick to the stragglers in the room, and Dean wonders if he's remembering how this went down when he first transferred to Lawrence High. Will he grab Dean’s arm and drag him out of the classroom, like how Dean did to him? Will he want to push Dean up against the lockers, feel his body against his own, like how Dean did? Of course, Dean hadn’t realized at the time that’s what those feelings were; back then, he’d just known his need to be near Castiel wasn’t something he’d been feeling for any other friend he had.
But Castiel doesn’t grab him and pull him into the hallway. He just looks at Dean, eyes sad and tired, before turning and walking away. Dean’s heart sinks, but he’s not giving up just yet. He climbs out of the desk, following Castiel into the hallway and grabbing his elbow. “Cas, wait.”
Castiel turns around quickly, yanking his arm out of Dean’s grasp. “Wait what, Dean? Wait until you decide it’s time to leave again?”
“Cas, look, I know what I did was wrong-”
“Wrong?! You destroyed me, Dean. I trusted you, with everything, and you just picked up and left without even looking back!” Castiel’s face is pale, his eyes glassy, and Dean hates himself just a little bit more when he notices Castiel’s hand shaking as he adjust the strap of his bookbag.
“Cas, please…” he tries again. “You can hate me for what I did. God knows I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me, and I’m not ever going to forgive myself for letting you and everyone else I love down. But you have to know this…I was always looking back. Every moment of every day, I was thinking of you and missing you, and hating myself for being too much of a coward and an idiot for not coming home.”
Dean pauses to see if his words are having any effect on Castiel, to see if he’s getting through to him, but Castiel just stares at the floor, face blank. “Cas, I found your letters. I read every last one of them. And I’m sorry. Fuck, Cas…I’m so sorry for not seeing it before, for not seeing that you loved me just as much as I loved you.”
Castiel’s eyes dart up to meet Dean’s gaze, widening with Dean’s words. “Yes, Cas. I love you. I think I’ve loved you from the first moment we met, the moment you saved me from Furdition.” Dean smiles and laughs, not caring that his eyes are filled with tears. “Remember that? That stupid, mangy-ass mutt of Crowley’s? I hated that damn dog, but I owe him everything for bringing you to me.”
Dean wipes the tears from his face, and takes a deep breath. “So I know I fucked up. But what I want you to know, is that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I don’t care what, and I don’t care how long it takes or if I have to fucking be reincarnated a few times to do it. But it starts here, right now. You changed schools just to be closer to me, right? Well, I’m paying you back by moving to Seattle to be near you.”
Castiel tilts his head, eyes opening even wider at Dean’s words. “Dean, I-”
“No, Cas, don’t say no, okay? Just, give me a chance, please?” Dean is so scared of hearing the word no, of Castiel yelling at him and telling him to go away, that he tries to keep him from speaking at all. He steps up into Castiel’s personal space, so cautious that he almost feels like he’s trying to approach a wild animal, and places his hands at the back of Castiel’s elbows. “Cas, you’re home for me. I realized it more than ever when I went back to Lawrence. It didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t figure out why exactly it didn’t feel like home anymore, and then I just knew. It was because you weren’t there. I mean, we’re a team, right?”
Dean can feel more tears running down his cheeks, and he doesn’t give a shit about other people walking down the hallway and gawking at them. He’s just grateful Castiel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t push him down and tell him off. Cas just stares at him, watching, and Dean lets him, like so many times before. He wills Castiel to see inside him, see his heart and know that it’s true, that this time, this time, won’t be like that last time. That this time, he will do everything in his power to remain by Castiel’s side forever.
He leans further into Castiel, closing his eyes when he feels his friend’s breath against his cheek. They’re so close now, and Dean wants to close the distance, to wrap his arms around Castiel and hold on, but he’s still too afraid of going too far, so he just leans his forehead against Castiel’s, and breathes him in. He can feel the shivers running through Castiel’s body, and he aches to comfort him, but instead he waits.
He feels Castiel inhale, as shaking hands grab onto his waist and pull him closer. “You jump, I jump?” Castiel whispers against Dean’s mouth, and Dean smiles, before opening his lips and letting him in.
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