Way Back into Love
It was a long day. Dean was tired, just tired. All he wanted to do was get into his car, drive to a remote location and go to sleep. But he knew it was impossible. Sammy was running high fever, and if Dean didn’t get back, Sammy wouldn’t even eat his dinner, let alone meds.
That’s when he saw him. Just another pretty party boy, wearing a skin tight rainbow tank-top, faded shorts and enough make-up to shame Courtney Love. The guy looked too gay - as if anything can be too gay in a gay bar. And he was grinding desperately against that sleazebag whore Michael. Dean hated that guy.
But the “tank-top” with him… Dean felt something stir inside him. Sure, the guy he was staring at was very good looking… handsome, sexy, beautiful… you name it. He was all that. But that wasn’t all he was. Even from his vantage point 20 feet away, even with all the make-up and his going out of his way to appear stereotypical gay… Dean could see he was genuine. And when turned his head towards Dean, it felt as if he was looking right into Dean’s soul… and for a heartbeat it felt as if the guy also felt the same way.
But he immediately looked away and continued grinding. Dean looked away and sighed. The guy was just another one of Michael’s one-night hook-ups. So why did he care so much?
---
“Hey!” Dean rushed in, “What are you doing?”
“Tesss,” Sam’s reply was interrupted by a sudden sneeze, followed by a violent bout of coughing. “Test tomorrow,” he continued after he finally stabilized.
“How many times did I tell you,” Dean chastised him “missing one test doesn’t matter.”
“But if I miss my test, I won’t get the scholarship and you’ll have the pay the full fees,” Sam replied, his voice wise beyond his twelve years. Dean sighed. Arguing with the future “Attorney General of US” was as futile as banging his head against the wall.
Sam had once stated that he wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up. And Dean had decided then and there that if his brother wanted to be a lawyer, by golly he was gonna be one. So he worked double shifts at Bobby Singer’s garage, at nights doubled as the lone Bouncer/Janitor at "Harvelle's Roadhouse" and squeezed some time in between for handy-man jobs at the nearby construction site. And spent the rest of the time looking after his kid brother.
“You hungry?” he asked instead “I got soup”, pointing to the bag he had dropped on the floor in his hurry to get to Sam.
“Okay,” Sam mumbled, burying his head back in his book. Dean got up, picked the bag and walked over to their kitchenette. He heated the soup, poured it out in two dishes - the doc has specifically said “Fluids only” - and walked back to Sam.
He handed Sammy his dish, setting the other one on the table. He cleaned up the tissues on the bed and sat down on his own bed beside Sam’s, taking up his dish with him.
“Thank you,” Sam said after he had finally finished and handed back the dish. “It was very good.”
Dean knew his brother well enough to know that it meant, “It was horrible. I hated it.” But his brother also knew what Dean did out to put food on the table, and was grateful for everything he did. It shouldn’t be like that, he thought. Sam should be able to whine and whimper and throw tantrums and be a kid. He shouldn’t have to worry about fees and scholarships and missed payments. “Damn you, John Winchester”, he cursed under his breath. “Damn you to hell.”
“Lights out,” Dean said as soon as he finished cleaning up. “You can get up early and study, if you want.”
“No need,” Sam replied triumphantly. “I’m all done.” Dean smiled proudly. A smart kid, his brother. “Dean…” Sam continued after a bit, “will you sleep with me tonight?” he asked tentatively.
Dean sighed heavily. He was hoping Sam wouldn’t ask that. He really needed to sleep. Cuddling Sam, while he coughed and sneezed and kicked around was not what he wanted right now. “Okay,” Dean replied, turning out the lights and slipping into the bed. “G’night, Sammy.”
In reply, Sam broke into a coughing fit and Dean instinctively started humming “Smoke on the Water” to calm him down.
It was going to be a long night.
---
Dean didn’t know why, but for some reason his eyes kept going to last week’s pretty boy. Gone was rainbow tank - today he was shirtless, his pants were even shorter and he was wearing even more make-up than the last time. And even from 20 feet away, he could see that the guy was totally sloshed. It was a miracle the guy was on his feet… anyone else would’ve been rolling in the bathroom by now.
Just then the guy looked towards him and smiled. He might not even have been smiling at him, but Dean felt all his tiredness, all his worries vaporize. A new sense of invigoration filled him. He felt like he was ready to take on the world, and for this guy… Dean totally would’ve.
But when the guy raised his hands, Michael walked into them. As they started snogging on the dance floor, grinding into each other like bunnies in heat, Dean looked away. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like Michael’s hands on that guy.
---
“You know… you should totally get a girlfriend.”
Dean looked up, confused. Sam stood beside the car he was working on, a serious expression on his sweaty dirt-covered little face. Sam, it seemed, had interrupted something very important to discuss this matter with Dean. “Why?” was all he could come up with.
Sam shrugged. “All your friends have girlfriends,” he replied with a straight face. “And I heard Gabe say that you seemed sad and lonely.” Fuck you, Gabe. “I want you to be happy.” He said it so sweetly, Dean chuckled.
“It’s not that simple,” Dean replied smiling.
“I know all about birds and bees okay? They teach that in Sex-Ed.”
Dean choked. Why was his baby bro growing up so fast? It wasn’t that Sam wouldn’t like him if he knew his brother was gay, it was just that… right now… Dean wasn’t ready for a relationship. A quickie in the club bathroom here and there was all he could content with. But for the most part he was so tired by the time he went to bed that he didn’t even have the energy to think about sex, let alone have it. And like his last serious girlfriend Lisa had said while dumping him, Dean was too invested in his brother to have a normal relationship. Actually the term she had used was “incestuous”. But Sam wouldn’t understand all that. So instead he said, “I’ll tell you when I find someone, okay?”
That seemed to satisfy Sam. “Okay,” he smiled. Then he was off.
“Bitch!” Dean muttered under his breath, turning back to the broken carburetor.
“Jerk!” he barely heard over his shoulder as Sam disappeared into the mass of dirty sweaty kids.
---
A few days later, as he was closing up, Dean came upon a shirtless figure sprawled over the bar counter. He recognized the guy instantly. It was the same guy whom he had seen with Michael almost every night for the past month. He had finally started to think Michael was serious about someone for once, until one day Michael walked in with another man. After that Dean had pretty much assumed this guy would stop coming. Apparently not.
“Hey,” Dean called out softly “wake up.” The guy shook, but didn’t move much. “Hey…” Dean called out again, caressing his back. “Hmm,” the guy groaned. Dean kept caressing. The skin felt smooth under his hands; it was covered in goosebumps and glitter, but it was warm. Soft. Suddenly, Dean envisioned stroking the skin every morning. Touching it every night. He hadn’t even properly seen the guy, and Dean wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. [Song: I want to spend my Lifetime Loving You - Marc Anthony and Tina Arena]
He smiled and smacked himself on the head. Idiot. A guy like that… Dean would never make it with a guy like that! There was no way he could understand Dean’s responsibilities or the bond Dean shared with Sammy. But that didn’t mean he could leave the guy here. Even if not for propriety’s sake, he was sure Ellen would skin him alive if she found out that Dean had left a customer in her bar, alone, at night. And that thought scared him.
There was only one thing he could possibly do. He shook the guy again, roughly this time. “Hey, wake up”. The guy made strange sound in his throat - which any parent worth their in salt knows is the sound kids make just before throwing up. Desperate times. Dean pulled the guy’s arm from under him and threw it over his shoulder. “C’mon.” He draped his other hand around the guy’s waist and steadied him to his feet and all but dragged him to the toilet.
By the time they reached the toilet, the guy had already thrown up on Dean. It wasn’t the first time someone had puked on him - Sam did it almost every time he was sick. But this guy wasn’t Sam. It was some piss-assed drunk in a bar. For a second Dean thought about dropping him on the floor and going home. He didn’t have to do this shit. But if this guy threw up on the floor, it was Dean who was going to have to clean it up. He exhaled and settled the guy beside the toilet, and positioned his face directly above it. That way if the guy started throwing up he wouldn’t mess up the entire floor.
He then wordlessly removed his shirt, turned on the tap and started washing it. He was wringing excess water from it when he heard the guy start again. Dean rushed to steady him. He kept caressing the guy’s back, neck, head till he finished. This part was easy… Dean was used to caring for people.
Even as kid, he had sat by his drunken old man rubbing his back while the man puked his guts out. The man had finally repaid him when, at 16, he had slurred through the “Grown Man” speech to tell Dean to get the fuck out. Dean didn’t need to be told twice. “And take that bastard brother of yours with you,” John had snarled as Dean went up to their room, packed their meagre belongings in a duffle, picked up his 5 year old brother and walked out. He took the car with him - it belonged to his mother. John didn’t protest.
“Oh…” the guy groaned breaking into Dean’s thoughts.
“Are you alright?” Dean asked. Even as he stared at his patient, all think Dean could see were the bright blue orbs staring back at him. The very eyes that Dean would one day come to trust and love. And cherish.
“Yeah…” the guy droned his voice raspy, breathy. Dean once again felt something stir within him. It wasn’t just lust... this guy switched on all his protective instincts. He really wanted to hurt Michael for doing this to him.
“Can you walk?” Dean asked loudly but patiently. He knew exactly how to treat drunks. The guy nodded, trying to stand up. Dean stood up and steadied him. “Do you have an ID?” he asked. The guy looked at him like he was speaking Chinese.
“Your eyes…” he replied instead “…green…” he smiled. Dean blushed. The guy leaned forward as if to kiss him and crashed onto his chest, unconscious
---
When Cas came to, the sun was already up. He was in bed in a room that did not, in any way, look even remotely like his own. In fact, it looked like a cheap motel room out of a C-grade Slasher flick. And that wasn’t even the strangest part.
Staring at him, with the brightest green “puppy” eyes he had ever seen, was a skinny young boy of about twelve. His long unkempt hair covered most of face, but his expression was unmistakable. The kid was staring at him like he was some kind of a mystical creature. He fully expected the kid to reach out and poke him in the eye, with “E.T. Phone Home” or something. He cringed a little at the thought. Instead the boy just sat there, smiling, staring.
“Where am I?” Cas asked, pushing himself up. His mouth was dry, his head was on fire and there was a serious ringing in his ears. And he was pretty sure he looked like hell. He couldn’t remember much of last night, except that he had seen Michael with his tongue up someone’s ass. But he sure as hell knew he hadn’t checked into a motel with a child!
“My home,” the kid replied happily. “Dean got you here last night.”
“Who’s Dean?” Cas asked, confused. He didn’t know anyone named Dean, but it was better than learning that he had schmuped a kid.
“My brother,” the kid replied extending his hand. “I’m Sam. Hi.”
“Hi Sam, I’m Cas,” Cas replied shaking it.
“I know,” Sam replied smugly. “Dean checked your wallet last night. But you were unconscious and he didn’t know who to call because there’s no emergency contact. I told him to call the cops” he added matter-of-factly, “but he said no. And so you slept in his bed and he slept with me.”
Cas smiled, in spite of himself. He was usually a grumpy riser, and even worse when he had been drinking, but there was something about this kid’s enthusiasm that rubbed off on him. “Where’s Dean?” he asked.
“He’s working. At the garage across the street. Come, I’ll show you,” Sam stood up and tugged at his arm. Suddenly, he dropped it and stepped back, as though he remembered something.
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.
“Well…” Sam started slowly, sheepishly. “Dean told me not to disturb you coz you’d have a hangover, and I was to keep out of your way until you were awake enough to go home. And he told me to tell you there’s coffee in the pot if you want.”
Cas chuckled. The kid was cute, but Dean sounded like a sensible guy. “Thank you,” Cas mouthed falling back, as he heard the kid pick his bag and leave the room. He hadn’t missed the emphasis Sam had placed on “hangover” like it was an alien word to be feared and repulsed. He tried to go back to sleep, but his curiosity got better of him. He really wanted to meet this Dean person.
He gingerly got up, letting his feet familiarize themselves with the floor. He looked around. The room didn’t just look like a hotel room, it was a hotel room. But it had that odd homey feeling to it. The table in corner doubled as a study-desk, there was a flowering plant by the window. The walls were covered in child’s art class drawings, not the usual cheap motel paintings. ‘How long have they been living like this?’ Cas wondered.
He made his way to the bathroom. Since he didn’t have his toothbrush, he used the red one, hoping the owner wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t the first time Cas had crashed at strangers’, but they were mostly one-night fuck-ups. And they certainly did not involve young guys making him feel ashamed of himself.
Castiel Novak was not the kind of man who felt ashamed. That was one thing he prided himself in. No one could hurt him, not anymore. All his life, his family, his “friends” had treated him like dirt… like he was a filthy gutter rat and he had blamed himself for it. Until one day he simply stopped caring. Even when his strict Christian (“Christian, my assbutt!” hehad interrupted) father had screamed, “I got no place in my house for a queer sissy anymore, ya hear me?” he hadn’t cared. He had simply picked up his bags and walked out. Even when he had woken up one morning to find 2 strange guys in his bed and his virtue gone, he hadn’t felt ashamed… nor had he felt ashamed when his “boyfriend” had caught him cheating with another man. He had actually been relieved when they broke up.
But ten minutes in Sam’s company and Cas was ashamed. For the first time in his life, he was genuinely ashamed. Not for who he was, but for the way Sam had seen him. There was something about the kid… he could feel it. Even though he appeared to be naïve and innocent, Cas had seen the tired worldliness in his eyes. Like the kid had been through a lot. And Cas wanted nothing more than to make the world alright for him.
The first thing he did was to wash the remnant make-up off his face. He did not want Sam to see him like that ever again. “Ah, screw it,” he removed his clothes and got in the shower. The cold water hit like a welcome difference and cleaned the night’s filth away from his body. He basked in the hot-r-cold shower. Finally he shut off the water and climbed out. He used one of the larger towels hung on the rod and replaced it back to dry. He picked up the clothes he had removed beforehand, and that’s when realized it wasn’t his t-shirt. The fabric was cheap, yet comfy and warm like the rest of the place. It had strange musky fragrance, that Cas knew wasn’t his own. “Dean…” he smelled the t-shirt, hoping its owner was everything his half-addled brain imagined him to be.
Cas found his shorts draped over the back of the chair. He wore them, but felt strangely naked. He really did not want anyone to see him like this. He would come back later and thank Dean properly. He wondered if he could slip away without Sam noticing. No such luck.
“Hey!” Sam called from the improv swing attached to the porch. He was holding a book, with a few more books by his side and some notes and pens lying at his feet.
“Hey!” Cas sat beside him, putting the books on the floor. “What are you reading?”
“Mill on the Floss,” Sam replied, turning the book over and showing it to Cas. “I’m reading it for Advanced English. But I don’t like it. It’s sad,” he pouted and turned his puppy dog eyes on Cas. Cas wondered if Dean had ever managed to win against them. “I mean… why didn’t Tom just let Maggie fall in love and get married to Philip?” Sam asked his eyes still trained on him. And Cas started explaining the intricacies of Victorian proprieties to Sam.
Teaching came naturally to Cas. He loved to teach and he loved the kids he sometimes tutored. He had always longed for a nice apple pie life with a husband and kids, where he home schooled them and grew vegetables in the garden and fed everyone till they were as fat as cows. He loved feeding people. They were his dreams… dreams he had given up on a long time ago. But for a little while, teaching that kid on a swing set, he felt as if he had everything he wanted.
---
And that’s how Dean had found them. With Cas’ arm draped on the back of the swing, a coffee mug at his feet, and Sam tucked in his side, sitting contently. They had a book on their conjoined laps which they were both gazing intently into. Then Cas said something and Sam laughed, and Cas raised his hand and fluffed Sam’s hair and Sam smiled at him. His Dean smile! Dean felt a pang of jealousy. That smile was their smile. Like a secret handshake, it was reserved only between him and his brother. But seeing Sam so happy for once, Dean kept all the other thoughts aside. He would let Sam and Cas have this moment.
He slowly stepped back, but Cas picked that exact time to look up. Dean froze in his tracks, that messy bed hair and those majestic blue eyes unsettling him to the very core. He crooked a grin and walked towards them, as casually as he could. “I gather Mr. Novak’s up,” he smiled, taking care that he said Mr. Novak. He didn’t want the guy to think he was being over-friendly or anything.
But Sam had no problems with either of that. “Dean,” he started. “Did you know Cas was an English major. And he tutors kids like all the time, and he said he would help me with my schoolwork. But he said I needed to ask for your permission. So please, please, please can he teach me?”
He was looking at Dean with his puppy eyes wide and full of hope. Sam already did without so much that other kids took for granted, without ever complaining, that Dean didn’t have the heart to say no. He could never say no when his brother asked him for anything. But tutor... Dean was barely scrapping the barrel to keep Sam fed and clothed and in school. Plus with all the bills and other expenses a growing boy needs… now a tutor. Still… if that’s what Sammy wanted, he mentally began to wonder if he should put in more hours at the garage, or ask Ellen for a raise or find some more jobs. Maybe he could ask that slimy Crowley.
Maybe something must have shown on his face, because he saw Mr. Novak looking at him. Like his eyes could read Dean’s mind. He turned to Sam, “Can I talk to your brother… please… alone?” his voice deep and grating… and polite, causing Sam to immediately get up, no usual whining business, pick his book and go inside. Dean would later come to categorize it as his “You better Respect me or I WILL Smite you down” voice.
Cas beckoned Dean to sit beside him. Dean settled in the place Sam had vacated, but as far from Cas as the swing allowed. This was a business, not a friendly, conversation.
“Mr. Novak…” he began, but was cut short. “I puked on you last night. The least you can do is call me Cas.” Dean looked at the man beside him with wide eyes, a slow blush slowly creeping up his throat. “Who told you that?” he whispered sheepishly. Cas grinned. “Sam,” he replied. Dean nodded, but the blush remained.
And that’s when it hit Cas. Sam wasn’t the only kid here. His brother, too, had grown up quickly. Cas knew the look. He had been on his own since he was 18. He wondered how old was Dean when he had been forced to become a parent. Like with Sam, Cas really wanted to make the world perfect for Dean… but it wasn’t just that. He wanted Dean. With a passion of thousand suns. To consume him, to finish him… to do everything to him that anyone had ever fantasized about. But most importantly, he wanted Dean to want him. And not just physically, he wanted Dean to depend on him, to sit with him on this very swing, to eat all the food he cooked and live happily ever after. [Song: I want to spend my Lifetime feeding Loving You - Marc Anthony and Tina Arena]
“Cas…” Dean interrupted his weird line of thinking “the thing is…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. On one hand he wanted his brother to succeed, but extra tuitions was something Sam would have to do without for a while. He cleared his throat, “The thing is…”
Cas looked at him. He could see rebellious tears forming in those stormy green eyes. He moved his hand, until it was holding Dean’s, pressing it gently. “I know,” he simply said. “I am not asking for money. I am not asking for anything. I just… I’d love to teach him… if you let me.” And Dean sighed. But to Cas it sounded like a drowning man taking his first breath after a long long time underwater. Dean nodded and Cas smiled at him. “Thank you,” he murmured.
That insipid morning a miracle happened. Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, two lost souls, sitting on the porch swing, with their hands connecting, and swinging silently, found soulmates in each other.
Song: Way back into Love - Hugh Grant and Haley Bennett
[ Chap2]