Take Care of My Baby

When Castiel wakes up in the morning, he feels warm and more than a little bit sticky. He relishes a few moments of peace before the jarring sound of his alarm clock rattles him awake.

It's then that he realizes he's woken up alone.

Cas knows that the sudden pang of fear he feels probably isn't necessary, but he can't help it. He knows Dean's track record, and sure, he's been sharing a bed with the man, but that could always turn around and bite him in the ass.

But, he chooses to do what he does best, and he ignores it. After limping out of bed with a god-awful ache in his bones, Cas goes about his usual morning routine: a quick shower, changing his clothes, brushing his teeth, poking at his hair before ultimately deciding to ignore it, and finishing with some breakfast before heading off to school with Dean.

When he makes it out to the kitchen, he finds Dean already sitting at the table; he's already dressed for the day in his usual t-shirt-jeans-boots combo. His feet are propped up on the table - if Sam were here, he would kill Dean for that - and a cigarette is hanging out from between his lips as he tinkers with their broken record player.

Dean glances up and almost immediately breaks out in a smile. "Mornin', sunshine."

"Good morning," Cas greets him as he eases himself into the chair closest to Dean.

"Little sore today?" the man asks, a mischievous glint in his eye and a half-smirk on his lips.

"More than a little," he answers, but he isn't upset about it.

Dean looks quite pleased with that. He turns around and puts the record player and his tools on the counter, asking, "How do you like your eggs?"

Castiel is a little taken aback by this; Dean has never cooked for him before. If anyone makes breakfast in the morning, it's Sam. Usually, though, they just fend for themselves.

"I don't really have a preference," he says.

"Good," Dean grins, "'Cause I only know how to make 'em scrambled."

With that, he leaps up from the table. Cas watches as the man brings out two pans, a few eggs, a package of bacon, and various other things that Cas can't see. He takes Dean's cooling coffee and sips at it as he watches the man go about the preparation of their meal. It's calming, he thinks, to watch Dean and know that he's a tangible human being, one who hasn't left him.

Dean gets lost in the simple routine of cooking. He's been up for about an hour already; he tried his best and failed to go back to sleep, so he decided to make use of himself before he takes Cas to school and heads to work. He cleaned up the clothes they'd scattered across the hallway on their way to the bedroom and started on the record play that Sam's been bitching at him to fix.

He gets the bacon going before he starts on the eggs, and he huffs in amusement at his goddamn domesticity. Sure, he cooks for Sam all the time, but this is... different. He grew up taking care of Sammy, and it's almost engrained in his every cell to do what it takes for the kid. Cooking breakfast for the man he slept with less than 12 hours ago, for the man that he's been seeing for weeks, is almost in that dangerous territory that Dean has avoided venturing into for his entire life.

Dean ignores it; this really isn't the time for soul-searching, if there really ever is a time. Instead, he finishes breakfast for the two of them and loads their plates as Castiel pours the two of them some more coffee. He sets their breakfast down on the table, then drags their chairs right next to each other. He doesn't miss Cas's smile at that.

"Thanks," he says as he takes the coffee Cas hands him.

"No, thank you. I wasn't the one to make breakfast," Castiel smiles as he takes his seat next to Dean. Almost instinctively, they scoot together until they're sitting arm-to-arm.

They only get a few moments of peace before they hear the front door open, and by the heavy step and series of thumps that follow, Dean determines that his brother has come home.

"Sammy?" he calls.

At the sound of his voice, Sam heads into the kitchen, his hair still messy from sleeping on it. He looks a little dazed as he waves. "Hey. Gotta run, Jess is waiting," he says, sounding a little flustered. However, his eyes make their way to the plates of food that they have in their hands, and he asks, "Is that breakfast?"

"Not for you," Dean says through a mouthful of food.

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Jerk," he mutters as he walks out of the room.

"Bitch!"

Castiel rolls his eyes at the two of them, but he can't help the smile that takes root on his face. He years for that kind of camaraderie with his family, but it's something he never got. His siblings were too distant, and the concept of 'family' was never something that they were taught.

"What're you smilin' about?" Dean asks him, breaking his train of thought as he nudges Cas with his knee.

"You and Sam," he responds. "I'm glad that the two of you are so close."

Dean wrinkles his nose. "Why?"

Castiel shrugs, looking down as a feeling of self-consciousness washes over him. "You're like the epitome of the perfect siblings. I feel like I'd read about you two in books.

"Ah, we're nothin' special."

"It's just different. I never had that."

"No? You got lots of brothers. You never got close to any of them?" Dean asks. It's hard for him to believe, but then again, he's never known anything else.

Castiel shakes his head. "No. We spent most of our lives separated in our house. Anna and Gabriel were really the only ones I got along with, but even then, there was such an age difference that it was difficult."

"Guess it's all about how you were raised, huh?" Dean says. "Sammy and I were always in pretty close quarters. We kinda had to get along."

"Really?"

Dean nods and pokes at his food, but he doesn't really elaborate. However, he's made Cas curious. Castiel hasn't heard Dean's story, not in full. It's only been random comments here and there, and so he asks, "What was your childhood like? If you don't mind me asking."

The man hesitates, and Castiel can feel the tension in his body. "You really wanna know?"

"Of course. If you're not uncomfortable," he says softly. He doesn't want to force Dean to do something that he doesn't want to in the name of curiosity alone.

"Heh," Dean laughs as he stretches out his legs, and the sound is almost cynical. "Guess it's about time I get it off my chest, huh?"

Dean is quiet for a long time after he says that, and Castiel almost thinks that he's not actually going to say anything. But what he doesn't know is that Dean is running through his life story in his mind and simultaneously determining the pros and cons of actually being outright with what he has to say. The only people who know about his childhood are Sam, who lived it right there with him, and Bobby, who gave him the stability he needed.

"I'm actually from Kansas, believe it or not," Dean starts with, looking at Cas and nodding in confirmation. "Born there, started growin' up there. I don't remember much, 'side from a few things. But, uh, I remember one thing real well."

Here, he pauses, because his heart is thumping a mile a minute, and he feels like he's running out of breath. He fumbles his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sticks one in his mouth, lighting it as he continues.

"My mom died when I was four. Buncha kids were playin' with rockets one night, and they shot one into our house. Mom went to go get Sammy - he was just a baby then - but she, uh... she ran right through the fire for him. Covered him up with a blanket and just barreled right through. She gave Sammy to my dad, and then he gave him to me, and told me to go, and I went. Dad tried to get her out, but... burns were too bad. She didn't even make it to the hospital."

Castiel grabs Dean's hand, and he holds it tight. "I'm sorry, Dean."

The man in question nods, but it takes him a moment before his can regain control over his voice. "Dad kinda fell apart after that. He put us in the car after mom's funeral, and we never really stopped drivin'. He'd pick up odd jobs in random towns, and he'd get drunk a lot to forget everything." He shakes his head, taking a deep drag from the cigarette. "'M not saying he was the worst dad in the world or anything. He was just real distant. He was always 'sir' and not 'dad'. Me and Sam spent a lotta time together in the backseat of his car, and it was kinda us against the world.

"We were only kids when he enlisted in the war, and he dumped us at Bobby's while he was gone. Bobby actually raised us like we were regular kids. We played ball, and he helped Sammy do good in school. When dad came back from the war, he wanted to get right back on the road again, but me and Sam didn't want to. We were tired a' runnin'." Dean's voice is quiet now, and Castiel doesn't dare interrupt him, because he feels that if he does, Dean will clam up once again.

"So dad bought a house here for a while - this house, actually. But we weren't here for longer than a month at a time, 'cause he just kept runnin' from everything that was eatin' him up.

"I was eighteen when he died. We were all in the car together, comin' home from wherever-the-hell we had been, and a truck came outta nowhere and hit us."

Dean goes silent for a while, and Castiel can do nothing but rub his back consolingly.

"I don't, uh... I don't remember anything," Dean admits, grinding his cigarette out in the ash tray. "I hit my head pretty hard, and I was out of it for a good couple a' weeks. Sam wasn't hurt too bad. He was out for a day or two, and then he was okay. But dad... the driver hit him head on. The doctors tried everything, but it wasn't enough, and we lost him.

"We took him back to Kansas and buried him next to mom. But after the funeral... me and Sam got in the car, and we didn't know what the hell to do. We went back to Bobby's, and we roomed with him for a little while," he trails off with a slight smile curling his lips. "I don't know where we'd be without Bobby. Guy's a freakin' saint. He gave me a job to keep me busy and taught me how to run a household, and he helped Sam get into college. And when he thought I could handle myself, he gave me the place dad had bought out here. Said he kept it up for us for when we came back. And here we are."

His eyes are stinging, and he wipes them with the heel of his hand as inconspicuously as possible and laughs off the fact that he was feeling an undesired emotion. "Well, there's the end of my sob story."

"I'm sorry, Dean," is all Castiel can say, because he is. He's sorry that Dean has been put through such trials and that he's lost both of his parents. But Dean looks down at him, and the man's eyes have a deep-rooted sadness, yet there's an expression of love on his face that shouldn't be possible for someone who has been beaten down for so long.

"Don't be," the man tell him, dropping their foreheads together. "Gotta go through hell to find a little piece of heaven, right?" Then they're kissing. It's slow and soft and full of all the words that they want to say but can't, of sorrows unspoken and apologies never said. And it's how Sam finds them a few minutes later, when he storms into the kitchen.

"You two!" he shouts accusingly. Dean and Cas jump apart, both of their eyes wide in shock. However, that slowly turns to amusement when they see Sam in the doorway, holding a yardstick in his hand with a t-shirt hanging off of it. "I swear to God, if I find someone's pants in here, I am going to kick you both outside."

Dean bursts into a fit of laughter. "Aw, Sammy, c'mon! Don't tell me you and Jess never got it on in the hallway!"

"Yeah, well at least we don't leave our nasty-ass clothes layin' around for our younger siblings to find!" Sam exclaims, his pseudo-serious tone cracking with good humor as he chucks the t-shirt at the older Winchester. It's Dean's shirt, the one that that Cas borrowed, and Dean throws it right back. The squeal that comes out of Sam's mouth is definitely worth it. "You're an ass, Dean!" he laughs as he storms out of the room.

"Do my best!"

Sam just makes a half-assed groaning noise, and then he's gone, back to Jess where she waits for him in the driveway. Dean smiles to himself and grabs their empty plates.

"Sammy's the best damn thing that came outta our childhood," he says softly, though his smile falters just slightly.

"You came out of it, too," Cas comments. It doesn't earn him much more than a cynical huff of laughter as Dean starts washing their dishes, and that breaks Castiel's heart. There are so many people who would kill to just have one of Dean's many good qualities, and yet the man sees himself as nothing special.

So, Cas does the only thing that he can think of. He stands up and wraps his arms around Dean's waist, pressing his chest and cheek to the man's back. Dean's body is tense for just a moment, but then he melts into the touch, continuing to wash the dishes.

"I love you," Cas murmurs quietly, almost without realizing what he's said. It's not as if the words are untrue, however; Cas thinks that nothing he's said in his life has been this right before.

But Dean freezes at the words, and Castiel can feel it. "What did you say?"

"I said, I love you," he repeats. He isn't ashamed of what he's said.

A thousand things begin to run through Dean's mind. Love equates to inevitable failure. The lists of everyone he's loved and everyone he's failed are the same. It doesn't matter who it is; Dean is like a train wreck just waiting to crash into the nearest person willing to get a little closer to him than normal.

"You don't have to say anything back," Castiel tells him softly, "and stop worrying, because I know you are. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Dean Winchester, and I don't care what you have to say about it."

Dean can't find anything to say to that. His heart feels like it's melting with how nice it is to hear those words. All he does is drop the dish he's washing, wipe his hands off on his jeans, and turn around to embrace Cas.

"I love you, too, Cas," he says, because he knows how much those words mean, and he knows just how true they are.

They remain like that for a while, just wrapped up in one another as they lean against a wet kitchen cupboard. It isn't the typical romance by any means, but it's theirs, and it's beautiful no matter what. The sun shines down on them from the open window, and the birds sing outside in the trees, and it's just the two of them in a position they never believed that they'd ever be in, both of them beaming with pure adoration of one another.

"You're somethin' else, Cas," Dean murmurs softly against the other man's hair.

"Somethin' good, I hope."

"Somethin' better than good, ya goof."

Cas lets out a snicker at that and turns his head up to kiss Dean. Yet again, it's soft and ridiculously romantic, with gentle hands placed on cheeks and lips moving in rhythm. When they pull apart, Castiel keeps his hand in place and runs his thumb in careful circles on Dean's cheekbone while their eyes remain locked together. If they were any other two people, perhaps the prolonged eye contact would be awkward, but with the two of them, somehow it feels like this is the way it's supposed to be.

"Should probably get you to school," Dean mumbles. His words trip over his tongue on their way out of his mouth. He almost feels drunk; his chest is lighter from unloading just a little bit of the burden that he's carried for the past eighteen years of his life, and to be immediately validated by the love of a man he doesn't deserve? It's a lot to take in at one time.

They head out the door a few minutes later, after finishing the cleaning and gathering up all of the things that they'll need for the day. They hold hands until they open the front door, at which point they remain a respectable distance apart until they get into the Coupe. Then, they're holding hands again.

"Whattya say to goin' to see a movie tonight?" Dean asks. "They got Rebel Without a Cause playin' at the drive-in theater a couple towns over, and I know how much you like James Dean. Plus, we can fool around in the back, and no one will know it's us."

Castiel grins at just the mention of the celebrity. "Of course I'll go," he says.

Neither of them can wipe the ridiculous smiles off their faces as they go their separate ways for the day.