Take Care of My Baby

Word about the race gets around in record time, even though Dean and Cas know they didn't tell anyone, and it's hard to imagine Dick running around to promote himself.

Nevertheless, almost the entire morning is filled with the sound of the phone ringing off the hook. People are calling for a variety of different reasons: to confirm the details of the race, to wish Dean luck, to ask if they can ride next to Dean in the race, and, in a few rare occasions, to tell Dean that he's crazy for even agreeing. The last one, really, is only perpetuated by Sam, Jess, and Bobby.

It only takes a few rings for Dean to get fed up enough to yank the phone off the hook so that they can have a few moments of peace. They're already on edge from having been rousted too early from their comfortable sleep, and Cas excuses himself to take a shower while Dean sits at the kitchen table and contemplates the best way to demolish the phone before him.

He's still sitting there, clad in nothing but his underwear and smoking cigarette after cigarette, when Cas returns.

"I haven't seen you do that in a long time," Cas points out softly as he takes his seat next to Dean with two warm mugs of coffee in his hands. He slides one over to Dean.

He looks up from his ashtray and asks, "What?"

"Smoke." Cas nods to the cigarette still dangling between Dean's lips.

"Oh." He takes one last drag before he crushes it out in the ashtray. Then, he rubs his eyes with one hand. "Shit's stressin' me out, I guess."

"Dean, I know you don't want to hear me say it again, but if it's this stressful for you, perhaps it would be beneficial for you to rethink this race." Cas speaks softly, almost addressing his mug as opposed to Dean.

"You know I can't quit, Cas. It's..." Here, he pauses and looks down at the table like the wood grain will give him the answers and the words he's searching for. "I'd rather fail than give up. I can't fuckin' handle just... just quitting."

Cas reaches over and places a reassuring hand over Dean's. He doesn't need words to express what he's trying to say; all it takes is that one simple gesture, and Dean looks up at him with that crooked, broken smile, like he just can't believe that the man is still there.

"I should pay you for listenin' to all my sappy shit," he jokes as he turns his hand around to squeeze Cas's. It's one of his greatest assets. Don a smile, and the world smiles with you.

"Lord knows I wouldn't listen to you if I was so inclined," the other man says. His own lips quirk up just slightly.

"Listen, I just wanna forget about tonight for a little while. 'M tired of hearin' about Dick Roman; it's like the only damn thing anyone ever wants to talk about," Dean says, staring earnestly into Cas's eyes. "I just want today to be about me an' you."

Cas's smile widens. "I'd like that very much, Dean."

"I was thinkin' maybe... well, last time you tried to dance with me, you said my dancin' was 'atrocious'," Dean insinuates with an infectious grin on his face. He gives Cas his best puppy dog eyes, the ones Sam can whip out without a second thought.

Castiel smiles back. "Are you asking me to teach you to slow dance?"

Dean's eyes flicker down to the table again, but he's still smiling. He shrugs. "Maybe."

"I get to pick the music?"

"Sure."

The younger man lets out a soft huff of amusement. "I never thought the day would come. Dean Winchester asking to learn to dance and allowing someone else to pick the music," Cas says with amusement as he stands up.

"Awh, shuddup, I let you pick the music!" Dean exclaims as the man walks out of the room. "Sometimes."

Castiel doesn't elicit any response, and Dean simply waits for the man. He can hear Cas rummaging around in their record collection in search of something. Dean just sips on his coffee and waits as the man finds something that he deems suitable.

Soon enough, the familiar sound of saxophones drift into the kitchen, and Dean can't help but groan. It's Rags to Riches by Tony Bennett, and it was huge a few years back. For a while, it seemed like every time he turned on the radio, this song was playing.

Cas appears and holds one hand out to Dean.

"Cas, I hate this song," Dean whines, throwing his head back. "I've heard it a million times, man."

"You allowed me to pick the music, and I happen to like it. Now, are you going to dance with me or not?"

Dean glares for a moment more, but he puts his coffee cup down on the table and takes Cas's hand. The latter pulls the both of them into the living room, where there's more space.

"I know you can't lead, so follow me," Cas states with the same level of sincerity that is usually reserved for medical operations. He laces the fingers of his right hand with those of Dean's left and places one hand on Dean's hip, leaving the other man to place his hand on Cas's.

"What now?" Dean asks.

Cas almost laughs; Dean is good at many things, and what he's not good at, he fakes with confidence. And yet it's something as simple as dancing that finally pushes him completely out of his comfort zone. It's ridiculously endearing.

"Now we move."

Dean's eyes widen, like this is too much for him.

"Oh, don't give me that look. Just simple steps. Follow where I lead," Cas instructs. He tilts their bodies just slightly and follows with his feet, taking a small step to the right. Dean's reaction is delayed, and no matter how many times Cas urges him to move, it's like Dean is stuck in his echo.

"'M shit at this," Dean grumbles to himself as he stares at their feet. He tries to move at the same time Cas does, but he just can't seem to get the timing right. "Makes no damn sense. I can see tiny shifts in a racer when I'm behind the wheel, but I can't fuckin' dance."

Cas chuckles and nudges Dean's face up so that he can press a kiss to the man's lips. Finally, Dean looks at the man, and his heart just about melts. Cas's hair is still a little damp, and his eyes are crinkled in such a profound joy that it wipes any other thoughts from Dean's mind. And goddamn, the sunlight is filtering in through their curtains, and it just makes the blue seem so much more intense, as if it's a promise of heaven. Dean's so mesmerized that he completely forgets to move, and they both stumble with Cas's next step.

"You're supposed to move, Dean," he says softly through a smile.

"Sorry. Forgot." The man clears his throat. His eyes flick down before meeting Cas's gaze again. "Alright. Let's go."

"I think," Cas begins cautiously, "it would be better if we tried something else."

"Okay," Dean nods. Hopefully whatever it is that Cas wants to try will be a lot easier than the shit he's tripping through right now.

So, Cas lets go of Dean's hand and slides both arms around the man's waist so that they're pressed chest-to-chest. Dean, in turn, has no other choice than to wrap his own around Cas's neck. It allows them to press their foreheads together and simply stare, just like always.

Now, they don't move so much as they do sway side to side to the music, and this, Dean can do. The sound of Jo Stafford's You Belong to Me starts up on the radio. Cas's whole face perks up; Dean knows it's one of the man's favorite songs, and it must mean a lot to share this moment together while the song plays on in the background.

"I enjoy this song very much," Cas states with a smile that reaches his eyes.

"Isn't about World War II?" is the only response Dean can make.

"Yes, but it reminds me of you."

It's Dean's turn to smile. "Never woulda pegged you for a romantic, Cas."

"Just remember, darling, all the while: you belong to me," the younger man sings along to the music. He's about as bad of a singer as Dean is a dancer, but the man looks like he's enjoying himself.

"You gonna serenade me?" Dean asks with a cheeky grin.

"Would it work?"

"I dunno, you're kinda terrible at singing."

Castiel lets out a heartfelt laugh and presses a kiss to Dean's lips before he picks up the song again: "I'll be so alone without you. Maybe you'll be lonesome, too, and blue."

The words hit Dean straight in the heart with such a force that one would think it was cupid's arrow. And damn the man, but Dean is so caught up in the moment that even he begins to sing the next verse. As soon as the words, "Fly the ocean in a silver plane" leave his lips, Cas is smiling so wide that it if he were any happier, his face might split in half.

When the final chorus kicks in, they're both singing together, and after they sing the final 'you belong to me', they dip together for a gentle and surprisingly chaste kiss that lingers for much longer than something so simple usually would.

The truth of the matter is that there are a lot of emotions coursing through their veins, and neither one wants to say much about it. It's easier instead to lose themselves in one another.

Cas's arms wrap around Dean's waist, pulling them even closer. It prompts Dean to do the same around the man's neck, and he buries his head in the crook of Cas's neck. The younger man just sighs and presses soft kisses into Dean's hair, because that simple bit of comfort is all the man needs right now.

They would make quite a sight if anyone else had been in the room. Dean is clad in nothing but his underwear, and Cas is only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that he slid on after his shower. Two grown men are holding each other like if they let go, they'll disappear to different corners of the world, and for them, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. After a year, they've become almost inseparable, and the thought of the other one being in danger is almost too hard for them to bear.

Fingers grip bare skin tight as each man breathes in the unmistakable scent of his lover. Gentle, periodic kisses spread over exposed necks and ruffled hair. The light embraces the two united men like a welcoming blanket, and it brings them a sense of calm, of safety, even in the midst of emotional tempests.

Dean and Cas don't let go for a long time.

__________

It's just past nine when Dean decides to put in an appearance with Cas at The Roadhouse. He knows everyone has been itching to get all of the details, and it wouldn't be right for him to withhold everything until the moment of the race.

And, as he expected, the place is packed with overeager souls jonesing for any scrap of information that they can get. The moment he steps one motorcycle-booted foot out of the Coupe, a whole mob of people begin meandering their way over to him, each with their own set of questions.

"Okay, enough!" Dean exclaims through all of the chatter. "I'm freakin' starving, so I'm gonna get somethin' to eat, and I only want a very small handful of people taggin' along to interrogate me."

It earns a few laughs, but everyone is respectful of Dean's wishes. As it turns out, Dean and Cas take the largest table in the restaurant, allowing Sam, Jess, Meg, Garth, Pamela, Lisa, and Benny to crowd around. Even Jo sticks by them for a while after delivering a few orders to those who haven't eaten.

The first question comes from Jess, who's more concerned than excited: "So you're actually going through with it?"

"Don't see why not," Dean shrugs with a mouthful of food.

"But it's dangerous," Sam protests.

"'S always dangerous, Sammy. Kinda part of the job description."

The younger Winchester rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Okay," Dean begins, setting down his cheeseburger to focus his attention on everyone else. "I know this one's dangerous. I know Dick's a, well, dick. But I'm not gonna sit here listenin' to everyone tell me to back down. It's not gonna happen. Got it?"

"Got it," comes the half-hearted response from the rest of the table.

"Good." Satisfied, Dean picks up his cheeseburger once more.

"So how long until the race?" Meg asks.

"Dunno. What time is it?"

"9:40-ish."

"Then it's in 'bout an hour."

"You got any crazy tricks up your sleeve? Gonna pull a fast one on ol' Dick?" Garth asks with his usual goofy grin, like the whole idea is the best thing he's ever heard.

"Garth, if I had a surprise, do you really think I'd tell ya?"

"Well, no, but-"

It goes on like this for some time, and eventually the group disbands. Everyone but Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jess have to go spread the word. Their usual family camaraderie resumes to a normal level despite the tension that has everyone wound tight. Even Ellen stops by to wish Dean good luck because, "Lord knows how many times I've had to convince Sheriff Mills that nothin's goin' on. You better make it worth my while, Dean."

Before they know it, their hour is up. Everyone clamors into their cars and heads down to the designated road outside of town for the drag race. Dean and Cas take up the rear a few minutes after everyone else, since Dean insisted on making a dramatic entrance.

They hold hands on the seat between them, palms slick with nervous sweat that neither man has the courage to speak up about. It's all so surreal for Dean. This race has been hot news for months, and now it has finally creeped up on him. He doesn't know if it's the anticipation that's formed the lead weight in his stomach, or if it's something else.

Through the veil of his thoughts, Dean hears a soft, "I love you," come from Cas's direction. Cas looks and sounds worried as hell, but like he's doing his best to keep it under wraps for Dean's sake. Dean can only flash the man his most brilliant and reassuring smile and kiss the back of Cas's hand before they arrive at their destination.

The place is almost unmaneuverable. There are cars everywhere, and for every vehicle, there's at least three people. Dick is already there with his car parked at the starting line. The man himself is leaning against the trunk of his T-bird, a sly smile on his face.

Dean pulls up next to him and exits the car again, Cas at his side. This time, however, the group that surrounds him is composed almost entirely of eager women, and the eyes of everyone are trained on Dean.

"So, Dean. Who'll it be?" Pamela asks, wearing a devilish grin on her red painted lips.

Dean looks at her, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Riding with you, Dean!" she exclaims, playfully pushing him. "You got someone in mind?"

Briefly, Dean's eyes flicker to Cas. Then, he says, "Yeah, I do."

"Well, don't keep us on our toes!"

"Cas," he blurts out bluntly. Dean clears his throat, looks around at the pairs of wide yes, and repeats. "Cas is ridin' with me."

"But, Dean," Pamela laughs, confused. "Your girl is supposed to be ridin' with you."

"Yeah," I know." Dean stares at her intently. "And Cas is ridin' with me."

Any and all murmurs of the crowd have long since ceased, but now they begin up again with exponentially more fervor. Everyone is demanding of their neighbor an explanation to ensure that their ears are in working order. Dean Winchester is riding with a man? It's an absolutely unthought of notion. Any questions about what Dean might do behind closed doors were quelled the last time Dick Roman was in town. Now, people are curious once again, but now is not the time to dwell on the subject.

Gabriel and Sam both storm up to the men and yank their respective brothers off to the side.

"Dean, are you insane?" Sam demands in a hushed but pissed tone. "Do you realize what this could mean for you guys?"

"I've got it under control, Sammy," Dean assures his younger brother. He puts one hand on Sam's shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

"Under control? Dean, what you're doing is dangerous and stupid, and y'know what? I can forgive you for doing dumb shit to yourself. But dragging Cas down with you? Dean, that is just-"

"Stop," the older man states firmly. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise."

Meanwhile, Gabriel is unwittingly following in Sam's footsteps by exclaiming. "Castiel, are you nuts?"

"I don't-"

"I could get over you dating him, even though he's a hundred kinds of bad news. But what are you thinking, Cassie?" For emphasis, Gabriel whacks Cas upside the head. "Getting in a dangerous car with a dangerous dickbag? Do you even understand the significance of what Dean just said?"

"I understand, Gabriel," Cas tells his brother.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Gabriel asks with concern. He places a hand on Cas's forehead to check the man's temperature, but it gets swatted away almost immediately.

"I assure you that I'm fine, and before you ask, yes, I am the same Castiel Novak."

The older man looks at Cas with pursed lips. "I don't like this."

"It's my life. It is not for you to like or dislike," Cas states with just a bit of a bitter undertone to his voice that stems from years of being told that his decisions aren't living up to expectation.

At that, Gabriel's face softens. He pats Cas's arm and says. "Okay. Just... be safe, little brother."

And then, Dean is there, asking, "Ready?"

Cas nods solemnly. He offers one last meaningful look of thanks to Gabriel. Even Dean nods at the older Novak as they go. It's the last peaceful moment that they all share before Dean claps his hands and exclaims, "Let's go beat us some Dick!"