Take Care of My Baby

Dean hates flying. He's done it once before, when he was asked to go to a conference in California three years ago, and he spent the entire flight clenching the armrests and clenching his teeth as he attempted to think of something to distract himself.

This time, though, isn't quite so bad because he has Cas's book. Dean reads it up until he had to leave for the airport, and he reads it all the way to New York. Then, he hails a taxi to the hotel that Sam had reserved under his name and finishes it.

Cas writes beautifully. It isn't conventional by any means, and Cas's vast vocabulary plays a large part, but it all just flows with an intensity of emotion that Dean definitely felt. The paragraphs are like music to him, the way they flow.

Or, that could just be because he was a bit biased.

After he read the description on the back of the book, Dean had to sit down to read it as soon as possible, because it all sounded so familiar. And upon reading it, he finds that he knows the story.

He lived it.

The first line had Dean's heart pounding in his chest, because he recognizes himself. He's the character that Cas describes when he talks about the cocky, arrogant, captivating man that lived down the street. He remembers when he first met Cas, what a complete and total asshole he was, and Cas describes it in detail.

The first few pages bring tears to Dean's eyes again, because Cas wrote a goddamn book about them. He wrote a book about how they fell in love, and now it's climbing its way up the bestseller's list due to the fact that it's so-called controversial content is captivating teenagers and most of the gay community as well as the literary experts and even random people who want to see what all the hype is about.

Some details are changed, of course. Names had to be altered; Dean is named, of all things, Jensen Ackles while Cas picked the pseudonym Misha Collins. Sam is a medical student instead of a law student. Bobby is Dean's biological uncle in the story, and it all takes place in a different town than they actually lived in. But, all in all, anyone who was intimately involved with those depicted wouldn't know that it was actually a thinly-veiled non-fiction story.

It has Dean on the brink of either crying or screaming with anger as he reads it. He isn't really sure what emotion is causing him to want to simultaneously light himself and the book on fire. He experiences once again all of the things he and Cas did, all of the things they said, and it's dredging up thousands of memories that Dean has done his best to bury.

He gets a firsthand account of just how deeply Cas loved him, and how he blamed himself for Dean's leaving after the accident, even though he did harbor a lot of anger for the man, despite everything.

He learns how Cas spent his time in the hospital, how he woke up after months of being in a coma to find that he couldn't walk and that he didn't even remember his own name, and how the first thing he did remember was Dean.

Cas ends it on the day he began his journey to San Francisco. It was, as he said, "another tale to tell, with other conflicts to conquer", and it leaves Dean insatiably curious about what happened after that.

As he lays awake in an unknown hotel bed in New York, Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel.

After reading the man's book, he thinks he has a little bit of a better grip on exactly what they were when they were together. He understands that what they felt for one another was pure and true, that it was reciprocated just as intensely from both sides. At the time, Dean had almost everything for granted. He pulled a lot of stupid shit, like showing up to wait for Cas every day after school or throwing rocks at the man's window so that they could just spend a few hours buried under some blankets or Cas moving in after such a short period of time. They were young and stupid, and it was beautiful. Dean sees that now.

And he also sees that he royally fucked up by leaving. He's glad he read the post-accident chapters in his hotel room, because he completely lost it. Cas has a talent for conveying emotions, pain not excluded, in his work. It almost seems as if he hand-picks every word with a purpose in mind, and Dean, knowing the man, doesn't doubt that he actually does.

Dean can't imagine what it would be like to wake up in the hospital and finally regain your memory, thinking that the man you loved was going to be there for you, that he had spent as much time as he could by your bedside, only to find that he didn't show. That he packed his bags and rode out of town the very night you got hurt. He can understand why Cas would think that he didn't care or that he was just looking for a way out of the consequences his actions would have. That he didn't love Cas enough to be there when he was really needed.

When Dean finally does sleep, it's restless at best, with sparse dreams about his hopes for the following morning.

__________

Dean will never in his life admit to how much time he spends trying to find the perfect outfit that morning. He had brought a few changes of clothes when he packed, since Sam got him the rest of the week off of work. He tries on every possible combination of outfits before he even looks outside, and when he does, he finds that it's raining.

"Dammit," he groans to himself before heading back to the drawing board.

He figures that, now, it doesn't really matter what he wears, as long as it's not going to leaving him soaking wet with a bad cold before he even gets to Cas. In the end, he goes for a flannel shirt laid over a black t-shirt, his jeans, and his motorcycle boots. Then, he pulls a sweatshirt over his head solely for the fact that it's the only thing he has with a hood, and covers it all with his leather jacket.

At ten in the morning, Dean heads out and finds a little coffee shop, where he sits and drinks until all the caffeine coursing through his veins finally prepares him to go out and get in line for the noon signing.

Dean hails a taxi and gives the driver the address that Sam had given him. He would really like to just walk there, but in this new city, he really doesn't want to chance getting lost.

He's dropped off at a mid-size independent bookstore at 11:34, and already, there are people lined up outside on the street waiting to get in.

"Son of a bitch," he whispers in awe. It still really hadn't occurred to him that Cas was actually this popular. It warms something inside him, because at least the man was able to find something good in the heaping pile of shit that life served him.

"Tell me about it," the man in the cab grumbles. "All these damn fairies keep showin' up and-"

Dean flips the driver off and throws a few bills in the man's lap. Normally, he'd fight any motherfucker that said something like that, but right now, he can't be bothered. Not when Cas is probably inside that goddamn bookstore right now, and there's less than a hundred yards between them.

He fumbles his wristband on as he walks over to the end of the line, and there he stays. As it nears the time that the doors open, more and more people show up, but Dean lets them cut in front of him each time. He wants to be last. He doesn't want there to be a huge line of people gawking at the both of them.

As it turns out, the final two people who end up in front of him are a couple. Dean just pulls his hood up over his head and minds his own business as he taps his feet and tries to ignore the little butterflies that are fluttering around in his stomach.

But then one of the men in front of him turns around. It's the skinnier one, and he says, "Hi."

Dean doesn't realize that they're talking to him at first, not until he lifts his head a little bit. "'Scuse me?"

"I just... you look lonely," the man says. He lets go of his partner's hand and turns to offer it to Dean. "I'm Barnes. This is Demian." Here, he motions to the larger man next to him.

"Dean," he introduces, offering his hand to the other man. Really, the last thing he wants to do is talk to someone right now, but at the same time, he doesn't want to be a dick to one of Cas's fans.

"So..." the skinner man - Barnes - begins with a smile on his face. "Exciting, huh?"

Dean raises his eyebrows and nods, jamming both hands into his jacket pocket. "Yeah," he agrees.

"I can't believe we finally get to meet Castiel Novak!" Demian exclaims with a huge smile on his face, like this is the best day of his life. "We've been such fans since his first novel, and they just keep getting better and better. Castiel is the only author I know of who's bold enough to write about the gay community like he does!"

"And I heard," Barnes adds in an almost conspiratorial tone, "that this new novel is actually a true story!"

"Wow," Dean says, sounding spectacularly unimpressed. "What made you think that?"

"The way he wrote, with such passion... you can't fake that," the larger man says with a self-assured nod.

"Plus, in some interviews, he's mentioned a hospital stay after a tragic accident as being the place he began to write. It only makes sense!"

"It would be great if it was a true story!"

"How?" Dean finally cuts in. He's had enough of the two men. Their ignorance is almost a personal affront. "In what way would it be great if it was real?" he demands. "Their lives are, are crap! Sure, they had it good for a while, but it all ended with a load of pure shit that got dropped on their shoulders. Their lives suck."

"Hey, buddy, take it easy," Demian says softly. Both men look taken aback by Dean's sudden exclamation of something containing more than two words. "It's just a book."

"Besides, Jensen and Misha... their lives were pretty great," Barnes chimes in.

"Please. Enlighten me." Dean waves a hand in front of him in an almost sarcastic motion for them to continue.

"In real life, he sells used stereo equipment. I fix telephones. Our lives suck," Demian tells Dean emphatically. "But Jensen and Misha? Jensen raced cars, he was someone that people knew. They woke up every day next to each other, and they were in love. And they had to hide their love, right up until the end, when they announced it in front of anybody. And, sure, maybe they didn't have a happy ending, but they were happy. They loved each other more than most other couples you see in books, because their love was just... pure. Who knows, maybe one day, they could meet again and rekindle that spark." He trails off for a moment. His voice has dropped down almost to a whisper, as though this matter means a lot to him. "Well, who wouldn't want that?"

"Huh," Dean says. "Maybe you've got a point."

After that, their conversation peters out, and Dean is left to mull over the things that were said.

So maybe he and Cas didn't have that happy ending. So they were both left with broken hearts. Life is usually like that, and it would have ended painfully between them one way or another, be it through a break up or death.

But Dean did - does - love Cas more than he's ever loved anything in his life before. Cas took every single thing that Dean thought he knew about himself, and he twisted it almost completely around, and that was okay. Hell, it was better than okay. He still loves Cas, in more than just the way that first loves always hold a place in one's heart. He still longs for the way things used to be, would love nothing more than to build a time machine and go back.

And from the way Cas writes, his feelings for Dean still linger as well.

Maybe there's cause for hope. Maybe they'll meet, and they'll hit it off again.

By the time Dean forces himself to quit thinking those things, the line has moved almost all the way up to the door. Of course he clears his mind right before he's supposed to go in there. Now he's got nothing planned out to say to the guy.

There's a man at the door who checks for Dean's wristband. After that, he can walk freely into the bookstore, out of the cold rain and into the warmth. He shakes some of the droplets off his his coat and wipes his boots.

And when he looks up, he sees Cas, and it takes his breath away.

The man is sitting behind a table, all messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looks like he hasn't shaved yet today, but there's still that usual reserved joy on his face that he saves for the things he loves most.

And he looks good. He's still as handsome as usual, and he looks healthy. Cas is no longer the strong-but-small body Dean once held, is no longer the thin man in Sam's wedding photos. Even though he's wearing a sweater, he has the sleeves pushed up, and Dean can see toned forearms.

A stupid, happy grin breaks out on Dean's face, and he tries to quell it immediately. He feels like a giddy teenage girl on her first date, but he just can't help it. Excitement and anxiety are building up inside him at such a rapid pace that the only thing he can do is constantly fidget with his fingers and the sleeves of his jacket.

As he watches, fans step up one at a time and set books down on the table. Cas signs them, and, bless his heart, he even talks to each of them for a few minutes. He offers each person a heartfelt smile and a gentle handshake before they leave.

Time loses all meaning to Dean as he stands there. The ten minutes that pass are the longest and the shortest that he thinks he's ever felt. He both dreads and desires to be face to face with the man again. His heart is pounding in his chest so damn loud that he thinks the whole store can hear it, and soon Demian and Barnes are talking to Cas and a short British guy with brown hair and a face that somehow seems familiar to Dean is telling him, "You only get one item to sign. If you didn't bring something of your own, feel free to take a complimentary poster," in a bored tone of voice, because it's likely that he's rehearsed this speech hundreds of times before, and Dean's not listening to him, because, oh god, it's his turn to step up to the table, and he thinks he's going to pass out before he even gets there.

But then, he slides his book across the table.

He can see every detail of Cas's face. He can see thin little lines that weren't there before, can see strong shoulders under his sweater and soft, messy hair, and tired eyes.

And Cas doesn't look up at him, because he's trying to find a pen that works.

Cas pulls the book over, and says, "My apologies. What's your name?" in the voice that's as sinfully deep and gravelly as Dean remembers it being. It punches the air out of him just like it did the first time, and Cas doesn't even notice, because he's already signing 'Castiel Novak' in illegible, choppy script.

"Dean," he answers softly, because if he says it any louder he might just display some girl emotion that he'd rather not have the whole world see.

At that, Cas's lips quirk up. "I used to know someone named-"

And then, it dawns on Cas. The voice registers in his mind, and he drops his pen. His blue eyes are wide in disbelief when he looks up at Dean. They spend a long moment just staring at one another in shock. They can't believe that they're actually here after so long. It's a moment that they've only been able to dream about, and they both have to make sure that they're actually conscious. Dean is grinning like an idiot and feels like crying, because jesus, it's so nice to see Castiel fucking Novak in the flesh, and Cas just leaves his jaw dropped, like his entire brain is focused on what the hell Dean is doing there right in front of him.

Cas stands up from his chair so fast that it actually tips over onto the floor. He looks both overjoyed and another emotion that Dean can't place at first.

He smiles through eyes prickling with tears and says, "Hey, Ca-"

Before he can finish, Cas cocks his fist back and sends it flying into Dean's face so hard that the man stumbles back a few steps. He's freaking bewildered. Of all the greetings, he certainly hadn't been expecting a punch to the face from a man who looks like he couldn't be happier. He touches his lip and finds it split, and he can't stop himself from looking up at Cas with his jaw hanging open. The man puffs up his chest once before letting it deflate into something less severe.

"Jesus, what was tha-"

Again, he's cut off, but this time, it's different. Cas flies out from behind the table, grabs Dean by two fistfuls of his jacket, and yanks him in for a hard kiss. It really isn't romantic, with their closed lips pressed tight together and Cas's stubble rubbing against Dean's shaved skin and the blood oozing from Dean's lip, but goddammit, it's so perfect. Dean hasn't been this happy for a long time, and something as simple as being punched in the face and kissed by the man he's pined after for eight years is enough to make him so damn happy that he could cry.

When they pull apart, Cas clenches his jaw to hold his emotions back and growls, "You are unbelievable."

And Dean can't help himself. There are tears in his eyes that threaten to spill over like they're breaking through a dam, but he can't stop the laugh that Cas's words rip from him.

He can't believe it. He's standing face-to-fucking-face with Cas. Cas is still gripping onto his jacket like he's afraid Dean will disappear again.

"Yeah, well. Kinda comes with the job description," he says lamely, but he's still smiling. "Eight years, huh?"

It's contagious. Cas lets out a huff of amusement event though tears fill his eyes, and he places both of his hands on Dean's face, tracing the lines and bones that were familiar to him all those years ago. "Dean..." he whispers before deciding that words aren't adequate enough to express just what it is that he wants to say. He pulls Dean forward and places an impossibly careful kiss on the man's forehead. Neither one of them wants to push their boundaries. To be honest, Dean isn't sure where they stand, because he knows that Cas likely still has some bitterness residing within him, but for now, it's just nice to bask in the fact that Cas is alive, that Cas is kissing him, that he's holding onto Cas's hips and that Cas is tangible being. He has to constantly remind himself, because otherwise it would all feel like a dream.

They just fit in together, and somehow, it seems like no time has passed while yet still managing to feel like it's been centuries since they last held one another.

They only break apart when the sound of applause catches their attention. As it turns out, they've gathered quite the audience. Demian and Barnes are there, alternating between looks of joy and shock. The British guy is leaning up against a support beam, a smug look on his face. And that's not even mentioning the random patrons of the store, some who were there for the signing and lingered after and some who simply came to shop for books. Dean is glad that this seems to be a more accepting place, or else he'd be worried for their safety.

Cas's cheeks begin to flush red, and he immediately lets go of Dean and takes a step back. He's still within arms reach, but now things aren't so obvious.

"Well, well, well," the British man croons, almost sarcastically. He saunters over, hands in his pockets and doing a damn good job of looking intimidating despite the fact that he's far shorter than either Dean or Cas. "If it isn't Dean Winchester."

"Wait," Demian interrupts from his place a few paces away, looking at Dean, "Are you Jensen?" And then, turned to Cas, "Are you Misha?"

"One could infer that, yes," Cas mutters quietly, barely audible.

Both of the fans' jaws drop open. "So you..." Barnes splutters as he gestures at Dean, "You knew? When we talked to you?"

"Yeah," Dean responds with a terse nod.

And it's the short man who waves the two men away dismissively. "Let's have some privacy, shall we? No more gawking at the pretty boys."

It seems to dawn on several of the people who have gathered around to stare that they're being a bit rude, despite the fact that Dean and Cas are standing in the middle of a busy store. But, they go back to at least hiding their spying behind bookshelves.

"So," the British man drawls slowly, reverting his condescending gaze back to Dean, "the infamous Dean Winchester, making his dramatic return after eight years. What brought you back? Not satisfied enough with how you left Cas the first time around?"

Dean demands, "Uh, who the hell are you?" at the same time as Cas states, "Crowley, enough."

"You don't know? Oh, right, you don't, because you never bothered to call Cas back after you decided you'd used him up," Crowley says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. In response to Dean's still questioning look, he states, a bit louder, "I'm Crowley. The best thing to happen to sweep him off his feet five years ago. Nice to meet you."

Dean furrows his brow, looking between Cas and Crowley. So Cas did move on after all? Then why did he kiss Dean in front of his new boyfriend?

"Crowley, stop," the younger man growls with the wrath of heaven shining in his eyes. It kind of scares Dean just by being in the same room as him; he wouldn't want to be the object of that fury.

The man in question holds up his hands in resignation, but he still has that smile on his face, the one that says he's going to milk every little bit of annoyance out of Dean that he can.

"Fair enough," Crowley shrugs. "Have fun with him while it lasts, Cas. You know what happened last time. Until then, I'll be at the hotel."

And then, Crowley is gone. Dean hardly registers his leaving because it all happens so fast, but he certainly isn't complaining that he's gone.

"Who the hell was that?" he asks Cas, his brown furrowed in confusion.

"I'll tell you over dinner." Cas doesn't bat an eyelash as he says it. Instead, he just reaches over and grabs his backpack from underneath the table, slides on the gaudy freakin' trenchcoat that he still wears despite his new, more laid back attire, and he turns to Dean, who's still gaping like a fish out of water at the concept of dinner.

"Uh, um, yeah. Sure. Let's go," he finally fumbles out with a shrug, and then he mentally punches himself for being so dumb. He's trying to make a good impression, and yet he can't find it in himself to be cool about it.

"Great," Cas says as he heads toward the door, leaving Dean no choice but to follow. "There's a restaurant just down the road that I think you'll enjoy. We can talk there."

And goddammit, Dean is dreading that conversation, but right now, he's willing to make more sacrifices than just that. If Cas asked him to skydive right now, if he said that would mend things, Dean would do it, no questions asked.

He follows Cas into the rain eagerly.