Chapter 3
Days pass and all Dean can think about is the fact that they're not talking. Well, not 'not talking' because they're not six year olds who have fallen out in the playground, but he feels like he's lying to Cas every single time he sees him because he can't own up to his own doubts. Lying by omission his brain uselessly supplies because clearly he watches too many procedural cop and lawyer shows. There's probably a disgusting irony to the fact that his subconscious can identify his crime but not the solution. The thing is, the more time he has to think about it, the more he doubts. So he doesn't think. He allows Cas to run his fingers through Dean's hair as he dozes on the couch. He'll snuggle up behind Cas while he's washing up the dinner dishes, hooking his chin over his shoulder to feel Cas' stubble prickle against his own cheek. If he's honest with himself, he's just as tactile as Cas. He wants their relationship to be physical, wants to commit everything, but god damn it, it scares the ever loving crap out of him.
He knows they can't keep this holding pattern going for long - eventually one of them is going to run out of fuel and then it's going be nothing but a crash and burn. He can already feel Cas' frustration when Dean pulls away or redirects hands. He needs to buy a vowel, or a clue or a fucking brain pretty pronto.
On the eve of the day his 'no sex' treaty is due to end, he walks to meet Cas after their respective shifts finish. He would have driven. Should have fucking driven because it's fucking fall and he has a beautiful car that Cas seems to enjoy as much as him. But because Cas enjoys nature and fresh air and all that shit, they walk.
As he approaches the squat little building, he spots Cas through the window. He's sitting in one of the booths nearest the door toying idly with a packet of something. He seems exceptionally focused in the act, so Dean slows his pace and drinks in the sight of him. How could he question his feelings for Cas? Just looking at him makes him feel like his heart could go supernova.
So, of course, because the universe hates Dean Winchester, he watches the girl, Hannah he thinks Missouri told him, slink into Cas' personal space and lean her hip against his bench seat while resting her hand on his shoulder and stroking her hand around the socket and down towards his shoulder blades. It's a casual touch, but it reeks of familiarity and Cas greets her with a warm smile. And damn it, that's Dean's smile! He doesn't even have to be able to see Cas' face to know that his eyes are bright and he looks a little goofy. Dean loves him for that goofy smile. And shit it all, he really does love Cas. He's known it all this time, but this is the first time he's witnessed the possibility of someone else loving Cas like he loves Cas.
"What's up, Deano, did you forget how doors work again?"
Dean had been so thoroughly stupefied by scene in front of him, he hadn't heard the approaching crunch of heels on concrete. He flails ever so slightly in surprise which only makes Meg laugh at him even more. He can feel himself flushing profusely, not just for being caught gaping like a goldfish, but because of the intimacy of his thoughts at the time.
"Meg," he sighs. "Hell empty?"
She smiles in a manner than makes him think of cartoon cats with a mouth full of canary feathers. Her beautiful dark eyes dance as she claps him on the shoulder with far more force than it civilised.
"All the devils are here," she purrs at him, then follows it up with a combined wink and ass-grab as she saunters past him and into the diner. He takes a momentary break from his jealousy to wonder why Cas' friends are such awful excuses for human beings and more to the point, why they keep touching his ass.
He's interrupted from his self affirmation that his ass belongs to him and possibly Cas by the man himself. Clearly Meg has alerted him to Dean's presence, but if he knows her, she will have used much more colourful and demeaning language. He'll be lucky if he gets away with a stalker description.
"Dean?" Cas' voice has that tone that makes him realise it's not the first time his name has been called. He leaves the glow of the diner's light and crosses towards Dean. He's not wearing a coat because he's an idiot who apparently doesn't have to obey seasonal climate change like the rest of the mortal world. Despite Dean's reservations about the scene he just witnessed with Hannah, he allows Cas to press close to him and absorb body heat.
They're quiet for a long time. It piques Dean's suspicions even more. Does Cas feel guilty for getting caught? Is he waiting for Dean to say something? Did Meg say something? Hannah?
"I missed you, today." It's said so quietly, and Cas has his head buried in Dean's front so effectively that it takes a moment to process the meaning of the words.
"You saw me this morning, you dork." Dean smiles, despite himself, because Cas is glorious.
"There was no touching, though." It's still muffled, but it sounds both petulant and contented. Only Cas would be capable of combining two such conflicting emotions.
"Looks like you were getting plenty of touching a second ago." And there it is. Spiteful, petty Dean who can't let Cas have nice things. Or himself apparently, because Cas pulls away abruptly.
"Were you spying on me"? It's his dangerous voice. The one that terrifies Dean as much as it turns him on. "Wait," he continues, "are you jealous?" His eyebrows are so high they're about to fly off into orbit.
Dean's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't at this point. So he takes the mature option and shrugs, pulling out of Cas' hold at the same time.
"I dunno Cas, what do you want me to say? You guys were looking pretty cosy."
"Stop being obtuse, Dean." Cas' voice is flat and he's doing that horribly intimidating thing where he stares at a person until they turn to a pillar of salt. Dean doesn't particularly want to be a seasoning, so he drops his gaze to where his toe is kicking the ground without him being aware of the mental decision to put action into motion.
"'m not being obtuse." Never let it be said that Dean Winchester doesn't know how to throw down with the best of them. "But I know what a girl's angling for when she touches someone like that."
"Like what?"
Even Dean is embarrassed by the mumble that he utters, but Cas is merciless and makes him repeat himself at full volume. "She was caressing you, okay?" He practically screams the last word.
Cas' face crumples down into a squint. His mind is working quickly behind the scene, Dean can feel the next attack coming.
Instead, he blindsides Dean. Again. Fucking unpredictable bastard.
Cas turns and walk back towards the diner without a word. It's fully dark right now, so the inside of the building is lit up like a stage. He watches Cas enter, rubbing his upper arms in a manner that Dean suspects is more about comfort than warmth. He's so busy puzzling out Cas that he almost misses the fact that his return to the diner has interrupted a very heated kiss between Meg and Hannah.
"Son of a bitch," is all he can say, to no one in particular.
He remains dumbfounded, unsure whether to chase after Cas and take him home to talk, or to let him blow off some steam. The point is rendered somewhat moot when Cas begins to retie his apron as Hannah removes hers. Brief words are exchanged, but Dean's on the outside in every single way.
Hannah and Meg are quick to leave the building, and on their way past Dean, Meg reaches out to pinch his already cold-bitten cheek.
"Thanks for the date night, Boy Wonder, I thought I was in for a long night of mooning over my favourite waitress." She adds two slaps in 'gratitude'.
She seems to get that there's a problem when Dean makes no move to banter back.
"Earth to Dean, come in number one." She waves her hand in front of him in an obnoxious fashion, yet he can feel the pity radiating from her as she exchanges a look with Hannah.
She starts to say something else, but Hannah stills her and addresses Dean herself.
"I don't pretend to know everything that's going on between you and Cas." Her voice Has a light, honey tone. Dean doesn't think he's heard it before, but it does sound familiar all the same. "But I know he's unhappy." She punctuates this with direct eye contact, Dean's favourite thing. "My cousin deserves better, Dean." She smiles sadly and walks past him with her hand securely clasped in Meg's.
It takes Dean a torturously long time to hit on the magic word: cousin.
Shit.