Nothing Else Matters Part 5
[ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4]
Part 5
"Good day sunlight, I'd like to say how truly bright you are... You don't know me but I know you, see, You're my favourite star… Follow you I will so let's get moving…
Who needs shelter when the morning's coming? Absolutely there's no one… Who needs shelter from the sun? Not me, no not anyone…"
Dean raised his head off his pillow and squinted at the clock on the table beside his bed, until it shifted into focus. "6.35 AM", the little green letters flashed back at him. He took a deep breath and shouted, "Cas! Cas, turn the off the music."
Cas gave absolutely no sign of having heard him. He roamed a tongue over lips and teeth, just enough to dissipate the dryness of the night, and yelled, "Cas! Turn Off That Beiber Crap Right Now!"
This time, Cas replied. "It's not Beiber. It's Jason Mraz. And you're late."
"It's my day off," Dean yelled back, burrowing under the covers and jamming a pillow over his head to prevent his ears from getting assaulted.
Fucking Cas and his fucking songs with nice lyrics. He was a grown man dammit and it was his day off, and Cas had no right to force him to wake up. He was going to lie here as long as he wanted, and Cas couldn't do anything about it. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, tuning out the sound.
He awoke up again with a start when some chick started yelling, "Friday… it's Friday… Gotta get down on Friday" at the top of her lungs. Oh for the love of… He pushed off his covers and sat up, his head pounding to that horrible grating voice. He took a large breath and bellowed, "CASTIEL NOVAK! YOU SHUT THAT BITCH DOWN OR I'LL SHUT IT FOR YOU."
"I can't hear you," Cas yelled over the noise, as the volume increased.
Why you little- Dean pushed down his inner Homer Simpson and pulled his wheelchair closer, practically jumping on it and hurrying out to turn off the radio before he suffered a brain aneurysm. He saw a plethora of multicoloured sticky notes scattered around the room... "Happy One Month Anniversary", "Wake up, it's our anniversary", "Can you believe we've been together for a month", "Why aren't you up yet?", "Do you even remember it's our anniversary?"… Of course he remembered. That's why he had the day off. That's why he had planned that surprise for Cas, but damn if he was getting it now.
He turned off the music and checked to see if his ears were bleeding, just in case, before turning to see Cas on his knees - freshly showered - making pancakes, just the way he had that first morning. He loitered behind, taking in the bewitching sight, knowing that he would never get tired of watching Cas cook, surprised by how comfortably they had settled into this domesticity.
Cas looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back before realising that he was supposed to be pissed at him. When Cas crooked a finger at him, he found himself moving toward Cas even before his mind registered what was happening. By the time he stopped before Cas, Cas was already half-standing and reaching forward to kiss him. Dean held onto him, kissing back with all he had, until Cas broke them apart and whispered, "Happy anniversary, Major."
Dean smiled back and whispered, "Happy anniversary, babe. What's you cookin'?"
Cas pointed to the heart-shaped pancakes stacked on a plate. "I, Cas Novak, present thee, Major, with Chocochip Peanut Butter Pancakes with Blueberry Syrup and Rhubarb Jam."
Dean gave a moan of pleasure and kissed Cas again, just because he could, until Cas wrinkled his nose and muttered, "Eww, morning breath. Go and brush your teeth."
"It didn't stop you before," Dean observed.
"Fine. Let's try it another way. If you don't go and shower, you don't get any pancakes," Cas asserted.
"That's blackmail, and you know it."
"Then sue me," Cas retorted with a smirk.
Dean sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, I'll concede now. But you better watch your back, Novak. I'm gonna make you pay."
"Oh, I'll be looking forward to it, Major," Cas replied sarcastically, turning back to the stove.
Dean turned towards the bathroom, wondering just what he had seen in this crazy, manipulative dick.
-x-X-x-
It was two weeks into their living together that Dean first brought up the fact that Cas needed a cell. Of course, Cas denied it saying he had no use for a mobile phone. He didn't really have anyone to call, and if someone wanted to get hold of him then they could reach him at the garage, Roadhouse or home.
Of course, because Dean had no sense whatsoever, and because he had no idea how to drop a subject, he had argued back. "But if what if you are not at any of those places?"
"Then you can always wait until I get home," Cas countered.
"But…" Dean sputtered, trying to explain why exactly he wanted Cas to have a mobile phone, without sounding too desperate or clingy. He looked away, not meeting Castiel's eyes. "But what if you aren't here and I need to contact you? What if you leave and I feel like talking to you? Or something…" he said nonchalantly, letting his voice fade before he said something really stupid like, "I'm just a girl standing in front of a guy asking him to love her."
Yes, he had lost his Notting Hill virginity with Cas. And he was secure enough in his masculinity to admit that though he didn't care about chick-flicks, or Julia Roberts, he nevertheless found himself rooting for Hugh Grant and cursing her for leading him on, until he realised he was doing the exact same thing to Cas. Hence, the mobile phone.
He looked back up, to see Cas smiling back at him. But it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes showed fear… hurt… something else Dean couldn't recognise. "Okay," he replied, his voice calm and precise, like he was carrying out an order he didn't agree with it. "But nothing too expensive. Now, can you excuse me, please?" he said brushing past Dean and locking the bathroom door behind him.
When he emerged 10 minutes later, his face was composed… stoic. Dean had been in enough "boys don't cry" situations to know that Cas was trying to bite back his tears. He saw Cas walking back to his room, without even looking at him, let alone bestowing him with the nightly goodnight kiss, which he'd come to expect, and heard the lock click in place. He turned to his own room, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.
He lay in the bed for 30 minutes going over the past two weeks, looking for any clues that could convey why Cas hated mobiles so much. Nothing. So he started all over again, trying to see if he had missed out anything. Nope. In fact, he hadn't even seen Cas this calm and stoic, since-
And just like that, it hit him. He shot up, a jolt of pure adrenaline making it easier. Christ! He was so stupid. So fucking stupid. Of course, Cas had thought- Christ! The last time he had seen Cas like this was 15 minutes before he broke down, and spilled his life story to Dean, and admitted that he had nowhere to go. And here Dean was being an ass and thinking that Cas was going to move on from him. He had been too caught up in his own pity party to see that even Cas was waiting for the other shoe to drop. They were blind-leading-the-blind here. He laughed, settling down in his wheelchair, not sure if he was laughing at their situation or the fact that Cas thought Dean was going to get over him and kick him out.
He found himself going towards Cas' room, even before he could figure out his course of action.
"Cas!" he said slamming on the door. "Open up." No reply. "Open up, dammit."
"Go away, Dean," a muffled voice replied. "I already said you can buy me a cell."
"I need to speak to you."
"I'm sleeping, Dean." The voice sounded broken, but it wasn't as muffled as before. Cas was sitting up on the bed, Dean realised.
"C'mon, Cas." Dean wasn't called "Blood Hound" for nothing. "Open up. I need to speak to you, right now."
"Go away, Dean," Cas replied, flopping back down on the bed. "It can wait till tomorrow."
"Fine," Dean muttered and turned back to his room.
-x-x-x-
Cas turned onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Here he was thinking he could make Dean love him, when Dean couldn't wait to get rid of him. He had seen the look when Dean brought up the phone. He sniffed into the pillow, thinking about his next course of action. He couldn't stay here anymore. He had to leave. And he had to leave before Dean woke up.
He stood up, and tiptoed around his room packing his stuff away. He regretted that for once he had taken the time to unpack everything, taking in how perfectly at home it looked nestled in the main bedroom. He had been waiting for Dean to come in one day, profess his love and take him to bed in every sense of the term. He huffed a laugh at how stupid he sounded. This wasn't a fairy tale, this was real life.
Dean would never see him, he thought. He was nothing compared to the beautiful man in the next room. Dishonourably discharged soldier, where Dean was a war hero. A college drop-out, where Dean was an engineer. Shy, nerdy, pathetic, while Dean was beautiful, vibrant, full of life. Of course, Dean would never see him. He would see someone as beautiful and wholesome as Carmen or Ken, the guy he'd been flirting with last night, or Mackenzie who had been eyeing like a greasy hamburger three nights ago, or…or… He composed himself. No, he would leave and this would be the last he thought of Dean Winchester, or his pathetic little heart that he had so completely given to Dean. He turned to his dresser, praying that Dean would forgive him.
It didn't take long to pack everything he owned in the two ratty bags he carried around. He stacked them at the foot of his bed, turned off his lights and waited for Dean to fall asleep so he could make his escape, like the coward Jake had called him after he was stripped of his stripes.
-x-x-x-
Dean was no better. Ever since, he had returned to his room, he couldn't shake the feeling that Cas was thinking of doing something stupid. Hell, he was thinking of doing something stupid. The problem was, "what?" He knew he had fucking screwed up the one good thing they had going, and frankly, he was glad that he had, because now he had the chance to make it right.
But he had no idea how to 'court', as Cas would say, someone. All his knowledge of courting came from chick-flicks he had absolutely refused to sit through, except Notting Hill, or Disney flicks. He didn't believe in "roses and chocolates and magic and fairy godmother" crap and neither did Cas. He wasn't a poet, like Sam, that he would dedicate a poem to his girl, or an excellent cook like Cas that he would just whip up some pancakes to make him fall for him. He was a simple mechanic from South Dakota who loved burgers and steak, drank occasionally and was obsessed with his old car. And he was in love with the Angel next door. He looked around his room for an inspiration… something… to strike him, when he spotted his guitar sitting smugly by his bed, standing from when Cas had sang to Dee, and her new teddy Uncle Cas, two nights ago.
He wheeled over, picked it up and wheeled towards Cas' room. Suddenly, Cas' obsession with 'songs with nice lyrics' didn't seem so bad anymore.
-x-x-x-
Cas looked at the door as he heard scuffling noise and stiffened when Dean cleared his throat just outside his room. "C'mon Cas. Open up," Dean said. He fought every instance of his body to do just that. If he kept quiet long enough, Dean would think he was asleep and leave. "C'mon Cas. I know you're just pretending to sleep. Please open the door, Cas." He refused to get up, refused to even look at the door for fear that it would somehow break his resolve.
"Fine! Be a stubborn ass," he heard. "But don't say I didn't warn you." He let loose a breath he had been holding. Finally. Finally, Dean would leave. And then he heard it. A guitar twang, followed a few more as Dean adjusted the strings. What the- he tiptoed to the door and slid down beside it. What was he doing?
"Okay," Dean cleared his throat dramatically. "This song is dedicated to one Castiel Novak from an asshole, also known as Major. He just hopes it will say everything he was dumb enough not to."
"It's amazing how you can speak to right to my heart… Without saying a word you can light up the dark…
Try as I may, I can never explain… what I hear when you don't say thing…"
Cas bit his lip to prevent the sob from escaping and held a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds. He didn't, however, stop the tears that had started pooling in his eyes.
"The smile on your face, let's me know that you need me… There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me…
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me, wherever I fall…"
Dean wiped his own tears away. He had been stupid. God! He hoped Cas would forgive him.
"You say it best… When you say nothing at all…
All day long I can hear people talking out loud… But when you hold me near, you can drown out the crowd…
Try as they may, they can never define… what's being said between your heart and mine…"
Cas couldn't stop the tears flowing down his cheeks and he didn't even want to. Dean. Dean loved him. Loved him enough to sing a girly song from a chick flick for him. He smiled, gathering his t-shirt to his face and started sobbing into it. These were the tears of happiness.
Outside, Dean heard the muffled sobbing. It wasn't coming from the bed, it was coming from somewhere very very close to the door. He lowered the guitar and wheeled forward till his knees were pressed to the door and leaned forward till face was merely an inch from it. "Cas," he said softly. "Cas, babe, open up." The sobbing quieted immediately, followed by a whimper and a sniff. "Cas, please. Please, open up. I need to talk to you." Another sniff. If that's what Cas wanted… "Look," he said. "I know I was an idiot, alright. I thought you were going to leave me, and I didn't want to get hurt. Again. But I realise that I was just hurting you. And I am sorry… I am sorry, Cas, please."
The door clicked open, and Dean could see Cas' bags stacked up on the floor. Tomorrow, he would tear Cas a new one for even thinking about leaving him. But right now, was not the time. He wheeled himself into the master bedroom and turned around to see Cas right beside the door, back flat to the wall, knees pulled up to his chin. Even in the slight glow of the hallway light, he could see that Cas had been crying. Without thinking he found himself on the floor beside his angel, holding him, hugging him tightly.
"You thought I was going to leave you?" Cas spoke up after what seemed like an eternity, his voice a bit shaky from crying. "Why would you think that?"
"Because I am a pessimistic a-hole who overthinks things," Dean replied matter-of-factly. "But it doesn't mean anything. Right?" he asked pulling back and looking Cas in the eye.
Cas smiled sheepishly and hugged him again. "Not anymore," he whispered against Dean's neck. "I am sorry for wanting to run away," he muttered.
"Shh," Dean held him close and caressed his back. "Let's just forget about it. You are here, and that's all that matters. Okay?" Cas nodded into his neck. "Good. Now, if you'll just help me up, I need to sleep and so do you. We have to be at the garage in" he checked the clock in the hallway, it was 2.00 AM, "in six and a half hours. And we both need to get some sleep at least."
Cas nodded and whimpered as the warm body holding him started pulling away. "Dean," he whispered. Dean hummed. "Stay with me tonight?"
Dean looked at him, unsure of how to answer. "Okay," he finally replied. "But no shenanigans. I'm a gentleman and I follow the third date rule to T."
Cas grinned. "Have you ever been on a third date, Major?" he asked cheekily, the emotionally charged atmosphere suddenly clear.
"No," Dean replied with a straight face. "But you are worth the wait."
Cas smiled and finally finally kissed his boyfriend.
[ Part 5 Continued]