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“Honestly, Balth, this is a really bad idea.”
Castiel shuffles forward alongside his best friend, the pair of them fully surrounded by a glittering mass of people waiting in line for entrance to what Balthazar has repeatedly told him is the New Year’s Eve party of the decade.
Or something like that—after the fifth or sixth time Balthazar mentioned how ‘exclusive’ the invite was, he stopped paying attention to the details, resigned to accepting his friend’s offer of distraction and debauchery for an evening. The last time Castiel went out this late at night was… maybe never, and he’s certain he hasn’t ever been to a party with this many people. And he knows Balthazar is well aware of both of those facts.
“Actually, Cassie, I think you’ll find it’s one of my best ideas, and all I want to hear from you about it is eternal gratitude. You’ve been absolutely miserable for too long now, and you need a night out. I know things have been utter shit for you lately, love, but when’s the last time you had any kind of fun?”
Eyes rolling skyward, Castiel huffs out a soft sigh, the sound totally lost in the excited chatter around him. He’s so desperately out of place here, more used to quiet evenings on the couch than waiting in line with a small crowd of people to get into a place containing a larger, louder crowd of people. But even as he tugs at his uncomfortably-snug borrowed shirt, he knows he can’t argue the point.
He is miserable, and has been for a while. And he needs… well, maybe not this kind of night out, but he can at least credit Balth for trying, because Castiel absolutely needs a fucking break.
His company going under was the first the domino in a chain of events that, individually, should’ve been survivable, but somehow instead became a series of compounding catastrophes that wreaked absolute havoc on his life. Castiel morphed from successful thirty-something with a well-paid job, a savings account, and his own apartment and car, to a broke, unemployable, nearly-homeless washout practically overnight and he still hasn’t caught his breath.
When he was hired on at his job, it was straight out of an internship role in his final semester of college, and as he loved the company and their mission—and the idea of not having to spend his post-grad months job hunting—he accepted without a second thought. Because of this, he never actually finished the last few courses in his degree program.
For his employers, it was a non-issue—they were more interested in his skills and vision, and less interested in a scrap of paper stating what they already knew about him. In fact, it was a common enough practice at the company to hire students straight out of internship roles that they actually had a learning center on site, meant to assist new hires in completing those last few credits and officially earning their diplomas.
It was something he always intended to get around to, but though his work was fulfilling, it was still relentlessly busy and by the time he got home most nights, he had just enough energy left to scrape together some dinner and binge-watch a few episodes of something before he passed out. His family and friends teased that he was married to his job, but in truth, he just truly loved what he did and the people he did it with—and since he never had any intention of looking elsewhere for employment, the whole thing seemed moot, so he set the task on his mental back-burner and for the most part, forgot about it.
Well, when he started job hunting for the first time in his life, he came to regret that decision immensely, because despite his nearly fifteen years of experience in the industry, and his senior role at his now-defunct company, every application Castiel submitted was rejected outright due to his lack of college degree.
When he finally decided to just hunker down and finish out his missing credits so he could get back to work and resume his normal life, it was with the plan to live off his moderate savings and speed through the missing requirements as quickly as possible. When he reached out to his not-quite-alma mater to get started, he was dismayed to discover that the whole department had gone through a restructuring a few years back and the program he’d nearly completed had been eliminated, so the courses were no longer on offer.
Searching local universities and colleges for a similar program was fruitless—even widening his net of potential schools to online options didn’t make a difference. The answer was the same no matter where he looked; if he wanted to finish his degree, he’d need to enroll in a degree program as a transfer student for what amounted to a full course-load for two semesters, as professional standards had evolved in the decade and change since he’d been in school and there were new requirements to complete.
He had a reasonable amount of money in his savings account, but it would only cover either the cost of tuition or his current living expenses for the time he’d be a full-time student, not both.
On reflection, this was the moment he should’ve reached out for help, financial or otherwise, but pride kept him from doing so, and he’s been kicking himself ever since, because while figuring out what to do next, Castiel found himself living through a string of luck so bad, he thought it only happened in the movies.
His apartment building flooded when his upstairs neighbors went away for a week—apparently a slowly leaking faucet can, in fact, cause massive water damage if left to run for long enough. When the clean-up company came in to assess and repair the damage, some of the fans they set up to dry out the impacted units were connected to normally-unused hallway outlets that had been missed in a past conversion from knob-and-tube wiring, resulting in an electrical fire that engulfed the building—and nearly everything Castiel owned—in what the local fire department stated was the fastest-catching blaze they’d seen in the last fifty years.
The landlord’s insurance policy put the now-homeless residents up in a nearby hotel for a few weeks, with the understanding that they’d need to secure new housing as soon as possible. As Castiel still had no job by the end of his stay, there was no way any landlord was going to rent to him, so he moved himself and his meager belongings into his 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V, smugly glad he kept the vehicle all this time, as the bench seats were far more accommodating for a six foot tall man than any modern car would be.
Living out of his car was somehow even worse than he thought it would be, but he might’ve lasted more than two days if he hadn’t turned it on one morning to see blue smoke billowing out from under the hood. That, apparently, was the final breaking point for him, so after a good cry and an emotional call to his sister Anna, he got his car towed across town to her new house—to park it indefinitely, because he certainly didn’t have the money for repairs—and moved into her finished basement.
He’s been so focused on trying to rebuild his life, frustrated at how little progress he’s made compared to how quickly it all fell apart, that he genuinely has no clue when he last took a break—partly because he’s filled his every waking moment since he moved in with whatever job will pay him a wage, and partly because he isn’t willing to spare money on anything beyond the necessities.
“Well?” Balthazar’s voice cuts through Castiel’s mental pity-party and he forces himself back to the present. His friend is staring at him with a face that would read as exasperated to anyone else, but Castiel can see the fondness underneath all the snark.
Shrugging, Castiel attempts to smile. “I know you know the answer to that, so I won’t even bother trying to come up with an excuse. And I am grateful, just—this isn’t really my kind of thing.”
Looking at the people around them, all dressed in their sparkliest, New Year’s Eve best, he can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious of his own apparel, even if it’s technically Balthazar’s clothing he’s wearing. There’s everything from shimmering, metallic dresses to glittering, eye-catching fringed jumpsuits, and he’s currently in a plain, dark button-down and a pair of jeans.
The jeans, mercifully, are his own, because as his ridiculous best friend put it, he’d let Cas “suffocate him with those thighs”, but he would not be sacrificing any of his pants to the cause. His friend is dramatic, but also highly protective of his expensive wardrobe.
“Stop fussing. You look amazing.” Balthazar reaches over to smooth out the shirt where Castiel has wrinkled it, twisting the fabric in a vain attempt to settle his nerves.
Raising an eyebrow and looking down at himself, Castiel can’t help but ask, “Don’t you think I’m a little underdressed?”
Balthazar looks at Castiel and then around at the crowd. “Ah, no. Some people need a little extra to dazzle their prey and lure them in. But not you.”
At this, Castiel actually does laugh. “Okay, exactly how much did you drink before we got here?”
“If you’re implying that my judgment of your attractiveness could be impaired by alcohol, you are sadly mistaken. I’ve been looking into those soulful blue eyes and not-ogling your muscular, Adonis-esque form going on fifteen years now, Castiel. I know what I’m talking about.” Balthazar gives him an obvious once-over with his eyes, and despite knowing there’s never been anything between them like that, Castiel finds himself struggling to not blush at the attention.
Shit, it’s really, really been too long if that’s how he’s reacting to Balth’s teasing.
The line starts moving before he can think up a retort, and with a wince at how loud the music is even from out here on the sidewalk, Castiel tries to convince himself that a little consensual adult fun might be just what he needs right now, even if casual sex has always seemed like a bit of an oxymoron to him.
· · ─────── · 🪩 · ─────── · ·
It’s almost worse inside than he could’ve imagined—the dance floor is like a human sardine can, the bar is about five people deep at all times, and the noise, god, the noise is almost unbearable. Yes, admittedly, it’s been a bit since he’s done this sort of thing, but he did used to go out with friends for drinks once in a while. He even recalls it being enjoyable, but maybe that was because he could hear the people he went out with—hell, he’s been to stadium concerts quieter than this.
And while he can count his past casual hookups on a single hand, he knows it’s absolutely not going to happen if he can’t even exchange a few words with the person first.
Checking his watch as discreetly as possible, he realizes with dismay that it’s just past ten thirty—they’ve been inside for maybe twenty minutes, and at least fifteen of those have been spent waiting for Balth to get them drinks. There’s absolutely zero chance he’s going to last another two hours in here, and he knows that his friend is absolutely planning to party well after the ball drops.
He’s not overly prone to exaggeration, but Castiel thinks he might die if he stays here that long.
With a glance over at the crowd surrounding the bar, he finds Balthazar chatting animatedly with someone petite and blonde, apparently distracted on his return. The drink Castiel thinks was meant to be his is being delicately sipped by said petite blonde, and that’s all he needs to see to know that his presence won’t actually be missed.
Decision made, Castiel strides to the exit without hesitation and escapes into the cool night air, breathing a deep sigh of relief as the pounding throb of the nightclub recedes behind him.
He should just call a cab and head home, cut his losses now, but for some reason, he doesn’t want to just yet. It’s been so long since he’s spent an evening wearing anything but sweatpants and watching TV with his sister and brother-in-law, and he finds he wants to savor it.
Instead, he leaves his phone in his pocket and turns towards downtown, hopeful that there might be some nearby establishment slightly more to his speed where he can ring in the New Year. Barely five minutes down the road, he comes across a tiny, cozy-looking bar—with enough pride stickers adorning the windows to make him feel both welcome and amused—and, after shooting Balthazar a text with his location pin, he heads inside.
· · ─────── · 🪩 · ─────── · ·
Two and half beers later, Castiel is congratulating himself on a choice well-made.
The bar is a perfect, serendipitous find, at once homey and cool, with just enough ambient noise and music to be pleasant, but not so loud that you can’t hear the person sitting next to you. He’s chatted with several people at the bar counter, including the quirky bartender, Ash, and is now sitting at a high-top table and engaging in one of his favorite pastimes—people watching.
A jingling bell pulls his attention when the door swings open next, and Castiel momentarily loses all awareness of other people existing when he catches sight of the man who walks in. He’s quite possibly the most attractive human being Castiel’s ever laid eyes on, and he finds himself completely transfixed. Bright eyes, sandy brown hair in a boyish cut, and a jawline sharp enough to cut give way to broad shoulders and bowed legs, all of which is dressed up in a denim and leather package that Castiel would like to unwrap with his teeth, if given the chance.
He watches the man stop and greet several patrons on his way to the bar, implying he’s likely a regular here. Ash hands him a dark, foam-topped stout with a smile and Castiel can’t tear his eyes from the sight of the man’s throat working to swallow several large gulps.
The bar is busy, but it isn’t exactly large, so when the handsome stranger lowers his beer and turns to lean back against the counter, his eyes land squarely on Castiel.
He still can’t tell the color from here, but he can see the intensity in them from across the room, and oh, how is it possible his luck is still so terrible? Because at least at first glance, this man is exactly his type, but he’s so beyond not in a place to date someone right now, it’s actually unfair.
Tall, handsome, and frustratingly poorly-timed is making his way over to Castiel as these thoughts fly through his mind, and he realizes too late that he’s chosen a table with few escape routes.
“Hey. Haven’t seen you around here before. First time?”
God, even his voice is perfect. Whiskey rough with a smooth finish, and now that they’re close enough, Castiel can see those intense eyes are a gorgeous green and surrounded by a beautiful dusting of freckles.
Not trusting his voice, Castiel nods and takes a sip of his beer before speaking. “Yes, ah, I was dragged out by my friend to that new club up the street—The Veil? But it’s so very much not my scene, so I escaped here about an hour ago.”
The man lets out a laugh that has every molecule in Castiel’s body wishing he wasn’t currently living through his own extremely protracted version of a No Good, Very Bad Day.
“Oh, man, yeah. If you like it here, I can’t imagine you were having a good time there at all.”
Maybe, Castiel thinks, just for a short while, he doesn’t have to be.
Shaking his head, he returns the grin. “Nope, not even a little bit.” He takes a breath and then sticks out his hand. “I’m Cas.”
Green eyes grabs his hand with no hesitation and something delightful zings up Castiel’s arm at the skin contact. “Dean.”
They stare at each other for a beat, till Dean nods at the empty chair next to Cas. “This seat free?”
· · ─────── · 🪩 · ─────── · ·
It’s not till the music cuts out and all the TVs flip to a sparkler-laden disco ball slowly descending on a track that Castiel even remembers that tonight is New Year’s Eve. Ash starts loudly counting down from behind the bar and everyone quickly joins in, the seconds ticking closer to midnight with every chanted number.
They’ve been talking for close to an hour now, about everything and anything that’s come up, and Dean is, of course, perfect. Or, at least perfect in all the ways that matter to Castiel—he’s sweet, he’s funny, he’s genuine, he’s flirty, and goddammit, he even smells amazing.
“ELEVEN! TEN! NINE!”
The crowd is getting louder with every passing moment, but Castiel can only focus on green. Dean’s right up in his space, or maybe he’s in Dean’s—it’s hard to tell at this point, since they’ve been gravitating closer and closer as the night’s gone on.
“So, I know we only just met, but there’s sorta this tradition we’ve got ‘round these parts.” Dean winks at him, and Cas feels slightly weak in the knees.
Forcing himself to not dissolve into a puddle, Castiel adopts what he hopes is a questioning expression and tries to play along. “Oh? And what might that be?”
“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”
Dean nearly cracks as he shifts even closer, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. “Well, see, when that shiny ball on the TV gets all the way down to the bottom, people like to kiss to celebrate the new year.”
“FOUR! THREE!”
“Oh, well, that certainly sounds like a nice tradition. I can see why people might enjoy that.” Giving up any pretense of not being charmed off his feet, Castiel smiles at Dean.
“TWO!”
“So, you’d be okay with that then? Kissing a stranger in a bar?” Dean leans in as he asks, his voice low and rumbling, his whole presence fully overwhelming Castiel..
“ONE!”
Their lips are practically brushing when Castiel mumbles back, “I don’t think we’re strangers anymore, Dean.”
The crowd erupts around them, tossing hats and napkins, cheering and hugging and kissing each other, but Castiel hears none of it.
Because they’re kissing now, and there’s nothing else in the world that matters. It’s a soft, sweet thing, with Dean pulling away only to recapture Castiel’s mouth over and over, his lips hot and wet and warm.
With a little sigh at how incredible Dean is, Castiel decides that if he’s letting himself have this, then he’s having it properly. Tilting his head to line their mouths up, he slips his tongue softly along the seam of Dean’s lips and groans when he’s granted access.
Dean’s half out of his seat when their tongues meet, crowding into Castiel’s space without hesitation. His stool tips almost precariously far, and he’d fear falling were it not for the wall behind him, and the strong hands on his hips. Spreading his legs just wide enough to be inviting, he’s rewarded with Dean stepping between them, his warm body pressing firmly up against Castiel.
As far as kisses go, it blows every single one Castiel’s ever had out of the water, and then some. If literally anything in his life was going his way right now, he’d probably be letting himself consider finding a way to keep Dean in it, because he’s almost too good to be true.
Like he can read Castiel’s mind—or more realistically, his body language—Dean pulls away from the kiss just long enough to whisper in his ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
God, does he ever, but he absolutely refuses to take another grown man back to a mattress on the floor in his sister’s basement. And sure, they could go back to Dean’s place—based on the way this feels, anything physical between them would probably be amazing—but what Castiel really wants is so much more than a one-night stand. Who knows, maybe that’s what Dean wants, too, but there’s just no way a relationship would fit into the dumpster fire that is Castiel’s life these days, so despite how much he wants it, he unfortunately doesn’t see the point.
He knows he won’t be accepting the invite, but that doesn’t mean he wants to let go just yet.
Sighing when the kiss tapers off naturally a few minutes later, and with a pang of regret so strong it almost physically hurts, Castiel gives Dean the TL;DR on why he can’t pursue anything romantic right now, tempting as the offer is.
Dean seems to take it in stride, surprisingly.
“Can I at least get your number? Maybe we can catch up when you’re back on your feet? I mean, I don’t care about any of that stuff, just so you know, but I’ve been there myself and I do get where you’re coming from.”
Leaning in for one last lingering kiss, Castiel shakes his head. “I want to, believe me I do, but I most certainly don’t have that kind of willpower.”
It earns him a wink and possibly the cockiest grin he’s ever seen. “Tryna say I’m irresistible, Cas?”
Rolling his eyes, Castiel gives Dean a playful shove back onto his stool. “I think you know you are, Dean.”
Pulling out his phone, Castiel orders a cab home and stands up, sticking out his hand to shake. Dean grabs it and tugs him back in, kissing him fiercely. When they break apart this time, Castiel nearly feels lightheaded.
“That was just in case it’s the last time I get to kiss you.” Dean looks as affected as Castiel feels, and it’s not helping his resolve any. “If you change your mind and decide you want to give it a go, I’m usually here most weekends. Owner is a friend of mine.” Dean nods towards the bar.
Squeezing his hand before releasing it, Castiel nods and makes himself take a step back. “Goodbye, Dean. It was really very nice to meet you.”
“Bye, Cas.” Dean’s shaking his head with what looks like a disbelieving smile as he watches Castiel turn to leave. He barely makes it a half-dozen steps away from the table when Dean’s voice calls out.
“Hey, Cas?”
Castiel turns around, head already tilted in question. “Yes, Dean?”
Those bright eyes are already trained on him when he looks back at Dean, and he’s smiling softly at Castiel before he speaks.
“Happy New Year, Cas.”
· · ─────── · 🪩 · ─────── · ·
Castiel wakes to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of voices, both familiar and un, wafting down to the basement from his sister’s kitchen. Rolling over with a groan, he locates his closest pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before climbing the stairs, yawning deeply as he goes.
After a quick stop off in the bathroom, Castiel heads for the source of the coffee, tilting his head at the sound of a third voice speaking with his sister and brother-in-law. It’s so familiar, but he’s too sleepy to place it.
When he turns the corner into the open plan kitchen slash dining room area and sees who it belongs to, Castiel’s mouth drops open in surprise.
Because it’s Dean sitting at his sister’s kitchen island, wearing a backwards baseball cap and looking completely at home and he drinks from a mug shaped like a cartoon robot that Castiel bought for Anna years ago.
Putting down his coffee with a blink of surprise, Dean’s expression quickly shifts into that same cocky grin Castiel fell asleep thinking about last night.
“Well… hello, stranger. Fancy meeting you here.”
Anna looks between with confusion on her face. “Do you two know each other?”
His eyes not leaving Castiel’s, Dean answers her. “A little bit, yeah. We only met last night, though.”
It only takes a moment for her confusion to be replaced by understanding and then she’s looking at her big brother with probably more amusement than he should allow, but he’s still rooted in place in the doorway, unable to process how or why Dean is here in his sister’s home. Anna gives a little shake of her head as she gets up and crosses to the fridge, patting Castiel on the shoulder as she goes by. “Well, okay. That’s something.”
Dean laughs and picks up his coffee again, winking over the top of his mug at Castiel, who flushes nearly head to toe. He moves to grab a mug from the cabinet for something to do with his hands, if nothing else, feeling completely flustered.
It’s Michael who breaks the silence, thankfully. “Castiel, you remember my college roommate, Adam?”
Snapping back to reality at the sound of his brother-in-law speaking to him directly, Cas grabs the carafe from the coffee machine and fills his mug with a healthy pour. Turning towards the island, he studiously ignores Dean in favor of looking at Michael.
“Adam… yes, I think so? He was at the cookout last summer, right?”
Michael nods. “Yep, that’s him. Dean’s his half-brother—we’ve been friends for nearly as long, I actually didn’t realize you haven’t met before.”
Oh. Well… small world then.
Dean appears to be thinking similarly, because he’s looking at Castiel with what can only described as renewed determination. Before Castiel can run away make up an excuse to leave the kitchen, Dean looks over at Anna. “Mind if I steal your brother for a second?”
Anna looks entirely too entertained when she shrugs her assent. “Be my guest.”
Stirring some flavored creamer into his coffee, Castiel mutters to himself as he leaves the kitchen. “What if your brother minds?”
Dean walks up behind him, trailing him out into the living room. “Guess said brother shouldn’t be going around kissing strangers in bars then, Cas.”
Turning to face Dean with a roll of his eyes, Castiel stops abruptly when he realizes he has to look up just to meet Dean’s gaze. The fact that Dean is actually slightly taller than him wasn’t evident last night, since they were seated on stools, but it’s something that, at six foot one, he doesn’t find too often.
Tamping down on the wildly inappropriate curl of arousal he feels at this discovery, and resolutely not acknowledging the way Dean is smirking at him like he just knows what is running through his mind, Castiel shakes his head and continues towards the couch.
“That was a one-time thing, Dean.”
“Well, sure.” Dean replies, stepping up beside him. “I mean, you said it yourself, right? We aren’t strangers anymore.”
Cas looks over at the annoyingly perfect man standing before him, takes in the sparkling green eyes and the obnoxiously cute grin dancing across his face and attempts to harden himself against it, but really… he’s only human.
“No, that’s true, we aren’t. Apparently we barely were to begin with.” He inclines his head towards the kitchen in reference to Michael’s explanation. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the answer is still ‘no’. That won’t be happening again.”
“Hmm, we’ll see about that.” Dean shoots him another of those deadly winks, and Castiel drops onto the couch with a laugh, not bothering to feign resilience when he’s not even properly caffeinated.
Taking a large gulp of coffee, Castiel sinks into the soft cushions before looking over at Dean. “Just because we have friends and family in common doesn’t negate any of the other things I told you, so…”
“Actually, I was thinking about that after you left last night, and I’m pretty sure I can help with some of it.”
Castiel’s not sure why he’s so surprised to learn Dean was thinking about him after they parted last night, since he was certainly thinking about Dean, but still, the notion rocks him just a little bit.
Dean joins him on the couch then, sitting close enough that their knees bump together and it redirects Castiel’s attention. “You mentioned your car being a problem, right? And not having the time or money to deal with repairs?”
Castiel nods, staring down into his coffee mug. “Yes, from my limited knowledge of cars, I’m fairly certain it’s going to need some engine repairs, so even if I had time to bring it to a shop, I know I don’t have the cash to fix it. I’ve just been taking the bus or borrowing Anna’s car when she doesn’t need it.”
Dean wrinkles his nose in response, but it’s quickly replaced by an optimistic smile. “Well, lucky for you, I’m actually a mechanic. Got my own shop and everything. I can take a quick look here, and if it looks repairable, I can get my guy to tow it to the garage and get it fixed up for you.”
“That’s very kind of you, but like I said, I don’t have the money for repairs right now.”
“I wasn’t gonna charge you, Cas. At least, not for anything more than parts, but I can make that happen pretty cheap as well.”
He knows what Dean’s trying to do here, and he hates that it’s sort of working, so he doubles down. “Dean, I can’t accept that. You don’t even know me—why would you do that?”
Shrugging, Dean leans against the cushions. “Maybe ‘cause I wanna get to know you? If you having a functioning car is an obstacle to me taking you on a date, then I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna use the skills I have to fix the problem.”
Staring at Dean for a moment but finding no hint of insincerity, Castiel lifts his mug and takes a long sip. “Still, you should get paid for your labor.”
Dean snorts. “Just call it the friends and family discount, okay?”
Sensing he’s losing this argument, Castiel turns to lean against the couch back, pulling his legs up and tucking them underneath himself.
“Okay, fine, you can take a look at the car and let me know what you think.” Dean smiles at him and opens his mouth to respond, but Castiel keeps going, undeterred. “I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but the car was just the last straw. While it’s been inconvenient for sure, it’s just a drop in the bucket of all the crap I’m dealing with these days.”
“No, yeah, you did. I wasn’t done though.” He holds up a hand, fingers splayed. “So okay, car issues, we’ll get that sorted.”
He puts a finger down as he talks, like he’s ticking items off a list.
“You said you’ve been having a helluva time finding a new job because of your college bullshit, which makes sense, but only because basically everything is word of mouth these days. Lucky for you, a buddy of mine has been trying to fill a position at his company for a while now and based on what you said you used to do, I think you’d be perfect for it. I can send you his way, if you want.”
Castiel knows his mouth is hanging open again, but he almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. Dean’s right, of course, basically all jobs are found through personal connections these days, but as he’d never planned to leave his last company, Castiel never put much effort into developing a network outside of it, much to his current remorse.
Seemingly undeterred by Castiel’s lack of response, Dean puts down another finger and continues talking.
“What was the other thing? Oh, right—your apartment. I’m sure you’re surprised to hear it,” Dean pauses to grin, and Castiel can’t help the way it makes his insides flutter. “But I also know a guy—different one though—looking for a roommate. He used to share the place with his brother, but his brother just moved out to live with his girlfriend. He’d give you a good deal on the rent while you’re getting back on your feet.”
Draining the rest of his coffee, Castiel places his empty mug on the coffee table and sits back on the couch, his mind reeling at everything Dean’s just laid out for him. It’s absurdly flattering to think he wants to take Castiel out enough that he’s willing to expend so much effort, so rather than rejecting the offers outright, which is his immediate, knee-jerk reaction—god, he really does need to work on asking for and accepting help—Castiel figures he can at least find out more and see if he can punch some holes in the suggestions first.
Or at the very least, delay just giving in altogether.
“Who is the friend looking for a roommate?” It’s maybe not the most important thing to ask about, but Castiel knows he can be a bit particular about who he lives with, so he figures that’s as good a place as any to start.
“Oh, uh… that would be me.” Castiel’s face must be broadcasting the surprise he feels, because Dean gives him a sheepish smile. “My brother, Sam, he just moved out to live with his girlfriend Jess. Her roommate had to move out of state unexpectedly and she couldn’t afford the rent alone, so he offered to help since he’s basically there all the time as it is. They’re on the marriage, house, kids fast-track anyway, so it made sense.”
Overlooking the fact that Dean just offered him a room in his home after knowing him for only a few hours, their connection through Michael aside, Castiel opts to focus on the facts presented to him.
“Your brother left you with the whole rent?”
Dean picks up his coffee to take a sip before responding. “I mean, I can swing it myself, but it doesn’t leave me with much wiggle room, and it gets kinda old after a while, living alone and not having money for anything fun. Sam and I didn’t split it fifty fifty or anything, since he was in school most of the time, but yeah, anything helps, you know?”
Castiel does know, in fact. With unfortunate acuteness.
“So you’re just… offering to fix my car and let me move into your home and set me up with a possible job interview so I’ll go on a date with you? All because of a few less-than-sober New Year’s Eve kisses?”
That earns him a snort. “Well, when you put it like that…” Dean trails off, hand drifting to his lips as though recalling the kisses.
Thoroughly enchanted with how openly smitten Dean appears to be, Castiel continues. “But doesn’t everyone always say it’s a terrible idea to date your roommate?”
Dean leans forward, almost unconsciously. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve heard that before. But aren’t married people roommates, too?”
Surprised but not at all displeased at this, Castiel laughs. “Wow, I must be a better kisser than I thought.”
“It was probably the best kiss I’ve ever had, but what d’you mean?” Unfairly adorable confusion flits across Dean’s face, and Castiel has to bite his tongue; evidently Dean doesn’t even realize what he just implied.
Shrugging with far more nonchalance than he feels, Castiel muses, “Well, it sounds like you’re already trying to… what’s the phrase? ‘Lock me down’?” He watches in amusement as Dean wordlessly opens and closes his mouth a few times.
A blush spreads across his cheeks, highlighting each and every damn freckle on his face and Dean rubs the back of his neck almost nervously. “Shit… no, I didn’t mean… I mean, I’m not not interested in that, don’t get me wrong, but like, a someday thing or—” Cutting himself off, Dean takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair before replacing it and looking back at Castiel. “Jesus, dude, how do you get me so fucking flustered?”
It’s Castiel’s turn to laugh. “I’m flustering you?”
“Yeah, Cas. Like, so fucking badly. From the moment I laid eyes on you last night, I knew I had to talk to you, even though I was pretty sure I wasn’t gonna be able to form sentences.” Dean reaches out and puts a hand on Castiel’s knee, his thumb rubbing softly, his palm hot even through the fabric. “Not trying to scare you off or anything, but I’ve never met anyone that felt so right before in my life.”
Breath caught in his throat, Castiel looks up to see the same earnest expression Dean wore when he tried to get him to at least exchange phone numbers last night, and god, he wanted to so badly. Leaving that bar was either the best or stupidest thing he’s ever done—he argued with himself the whole way home and was still undecided when he finally fell asleep.
Maybe that’s what he should’ve done in the first place. He’s not one for believing in fate or serendipity or any of that ‘meant to be’ crap, nor does he think he’s actually cursed with some kind of bad luck streak.
But if he did, if he were inclined to any of those beliefs, then he’d say he’s beyond overdue for his luck to turn around. And that maybe, Dean being here this morning is the universe giving him a chance to make the right decision.
Slipping his hand into Dean’s, Castiel stares down at their interlocked fingers for a beat before speaking. “I’m not sure I should admit this, but as I fell asleep last night thinking about how wonderful our short time together was, I may have promised myself that if we ran into each other again, I’d give it a shot.”
A bark of laughter pulls his eyes up to Dean’s face, where finds an incredulous expression, but there’s a smile threatening to break free. “Cas—you’ve turned me down at least three times in the last five minutes!”
Castiel huffs indignantly, also fighting a smile. “Well, okay, yes, I did—but to be fair, I didn’t expect to wake up and find you in the kitchen!”
Dean just laughs and shakes his head before squeezing Castiel’s hand. “So is this you agreeing to a date? Or a roommate? Or what?”
Immensely glad he stopped to brush his teeth before making his way to the kitchen earlier, Castiel leans forward, reaching out to grab Dean’s tee shirt and tugging him closer. Their lips are close enough to count, but it’s more of a soft grazing of mouths together, not quite a kiss.
“Yes. To any of it, to all of it. I’d very much like to date you and get to know you, Dean, and we can figure out the rest of it along the way.”
Castiel can feel Dean smiling against his mouth and he hears a mumbled, “Fuck, yeah,” before Dean closes the gap between them. Now that he knows he isn’t about to slip off into the night, never to see Dean again, Castiel allows himself to relish the way Dean tastes and feels, savoring the embrace but with the heady knowledge that they both want to do this many more times, if possible.
He thinks they might’ve stayed lip-locked on the couch for far longer, if the sudden scraping of stools and clattering of dishes from the kitchen didn’t remind him that they’re actually in his sister’s living room, in plain view of anyone who walks by.
And of course, Anna chooses that moment to walk by, brow raised in Castiel’s general direction, clearly trying not to laugh. He can hear her lose that battle when she reaches the hallway though, her giggles carrying through the house, and he drops his head to Dean’s shoulder with a small groan of embarrassment.
Kissing the delicate skin under Castiel’s ear, Dean murmurs, “Yeah, alright, maybe we shouldn’t make out on your sister’s couch.”
Sitting up to respond, Castiel barely opens his mouth before Dean kisses him again. “But then again, kinda makes me feel like a teenager a little bit, sneaking around the parents and all.”
Snorting, Castiel pushes him off. “Yeah, trust me, that will get old.”
Dean waggles his eyebrows and just grins. “Well, in that case, guess it’s a good thing that I have a whole empty apartment all to myself, right?”
Ignoring his suggestive tone, Castiel picks up their empty mugs and stands up. “You have your phone on you?”
Nodding, Dean pulls it out of his pocket. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Directing him to open a new text, Castiel rattles off his number. “That’s me. Send me a message and I’ll go get my phone to text you back.”
Dean smiles at him, looking down at his phone to type a much longer message than the ‘Hi’ Castiel is expecting. The sound of a message sending chimes from the phone, and then Dean stuffs the device back in his pocket and stands up.
“Okay, done.”
They make their way to the kitchen and Dean picks up a winter coat off the back of a dining room chair. “Hey, why don’t you grab me your keys and I can check out the car real quick? We can get it towed tomorrow if it’s fixable—shop’s closed today for the holiday—so I can get to work on it.”
Castiel nods. “Sure, they’re just downstairs with my phone.”
Nodding, Dean fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. “And, I dunno, if you wanna get dressed while I take a look, maybe we could go grab some lunch or something?”
Leaning in for a brief kiss, Castiel smiles at him. “I’d like that, Dean.”
Extricating himself from Dean’s grasp a few minutes later, Castiel heads back down to the basement to find his car keys and retrieve his phone. Curious about what Dean was typing, he taps the phone to open his messages, and sees he has a few from some friends wishing him a Happy New Year!, as well as several from Balthazar, who Castiel belatedly realizes he never actually texted back to say he was home last night.
Swiping to get to Balth’s messages first, Castiel taps out an apology and sends it off before reading them all through. Of the half dozen texts, the sentiments are much as he expected, everything from I can’t believe you left such an amazing party, and I hope wherever you went has as many hot guys willing to bob your knob as there are women queued up for mine, to, I’m sorry Cassie, I just wanted to distract you from all the shit for a night, and Let me know when you get home safe, and finally, All I want for you is to be happy, my friend, whatever that looks like for you.
Smiling at Balthazar’s ability to still text properly even while likely very drunk, he flips to the one new message he has from an unsaved number, which can only be from Dean.
I’ve never been one for resolutions, or manifesting, or any of that power of positive thinking crap, but when you walked out of the bar last night and I had no idea if I’d ever see you again, I figured it couldn’t hurt. So with every ounce of hope inside me, I wished I’d see you again soon. And then you stumbled back into my life an hour ago, and I just knew I’d do anything for a chance to keep you. Here’s to this year being better than last, and to figuring things out as we go. Happy New Year, Cas.
Heart overflowing at Dean’s words, Castiel stuffs his keys in his pocket, heading for the stairs and the man himself, tapping out a reply to Balthazar as he goes.
I don’t think I even knew that I was looking for anything, but I definitely found it last night. If you hadn’t taken me to that awful club, I would’ve never ended up at that bar, and I might’ve missed out on something truly amazing, so thank you for always pushing me. Happy New Year, my friend — I’ve got a good feeling about this one.