Take Care of My Baby

Per Michael's ridiculous request, Castiel spends his Saturday at home. To Michael's intense irritation, Castiel spends his Saturday confined in his bedroom and buried in a novel while he generally ignores the rest of the world.

Anna brings him his meals and eats with him in his bedroom, something that Cas greatly appreciates.

"It's not right, what he's doing," she tells him with pursed lips. "We didn't come here to have Michael play God and dictate our lives. We came here to be a family."

Castiel shrugs. "This is his idea of family."

Anna doesn't say anything to that, but Castiel knows she agrees. She's just hesitant to say so.

Gabriel also takes a shine to coming to bother him when he's got nothing better to do, which, in Gabriel's case, is often. At least, until night falls, and he goes out with Lucius to engage in some new prank that they've formulated.

All in all, it's a pretty slow day until Becky shows up to visit him. Castiel is somewhat surprised that Michael let her come in, although he probably wanted to enforce his demand that Castiel make 'good' friends.

She runs into the room exclaiming, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh," over and over, bouncing as she practically bursts from excitement. She plops down on the bed next to Cas, trying to restrain herself by placing her hands in her lap, but it's obvious that she's still bursting with happiness. Thankfully, Becky has enough common sense to wait until the door is closed and Castiel's record player is creating some background noise before she elaborates.

"I heard you were cruising with Dean Winchester last night!" she grins excitedly. Castiel shushes her. In a stage whisper, she continues with, "Is that true?"

Cas nods sheepishly. "Yeah."

Becky practically squeals with happiness, earning another shush from her friend. "I can't believe it, Castiel! Gee, you didn't tell me you two were at that point already!"

"I guess I've just been hanging out with him too much."

"That is perfectly, 100% okay. But you owe me details!"

So Castiel expounds the story. "I played hard to get like you suggested. After a few weeks, some racers drifted into town looking for Dean and gave me a hard time, and he... convinced them to leave."

"Oooh, protecting you! How romantic!"

Cas ducks his head, hiding his blush. "He gave me a ride to school that day, and I felt he had earned it."

"So what about the cruising? 'Cause it's, like, an honor to go cruising with Dean."

"He asked me one day on the way home from the university, and I agreed."

"Well, then why are you sitting at home! Go hang out with him, silly!" she grins, playfully punching his arm.

"That's the thing," Castiel mumbles. "Dean picked me up at home, and Michael grounded me when he figured out that I was associating with someone that he doesn't approve of."

"Castiel!" Becky cries, her face looking like a child's when they find out that Santa isn't real. "You're nineteen years old! You can't let your brother tell what to do! This is a one-time chance; you can't just pass it up!"

"I know, but I can't disobey Michael."

Becky's shoulders slump; if there's one thing that Becky is, it's expressive. She huffs out a dejected breath but appears deep in thought.

"I've got it!" she exclaims after a moment, jumping up from the edge of Cas's bed. "You wait here! I'll take care of this for you!"

She pecks Cas on the cheek before she runs from the room in a blur. Castiel is almost kind of hesitant about what she's planning.

__________

Dean and Sam are both sitting at the kitchen table, sketching and studying respectively. Dean has an unlit cigarette dangling forgotten between his lips, and Sam is worrying the eraser from his pencil as he reads. It takes several knocks at the front door before they're even partially startled from their focus.

"You got it," Dean mumbles, his gaze not moving from his drawing.

"What?! I've had to get it the last four times!"

"Respect your elders. Go get the door, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mutters, but he stands anyway, dramatically shoving himself away from the table. He heads toward the door, checking through the peephole before he answers it. What he sees, however, is a surprise. He hisses, "Dean. Dean!"

"Whaddya want?"

The younger Winchester hurries back into the kitchen as quietly as he can. "It's Becky!"

"What?" Dean asks, still confused.

"Dean, Becky is at the door. Becky Rosen is standing outside our door; please please please don't make me answer it," Sam insists. Dean almost thinks that the wild look of terror in his brother's eyes was funny, but he doesn't dare show it.

"Well if she's at the door, you better go answer it." As if to back up Dean's words, there's another rapid knock. Dean motions to the door dramatically.

"Please Dean," Sam pleads.

"You realize this is why I call you a bitch, right?"

The younger man groans dramatically, but nevertheless, he goes back to the front door. When he opens it, he does so with barely enough room to look through.

"What do you want, Becky?"

"I need to talk to Dean," she announces confidently.

Sam opens the door wider, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Dean?" Then, he stands aside and lets her in. "Y-yeah, he's in the kitchen."

"Thank you, Sam." And without even one pass at him, Becky continues into the kitchen. Once there, she plops down in the chair that the younger Winchester had previously been sitting in and stares at Dean.

He raises an eyebrow and looks up at her. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to talk about Cas," she states.

"Figures," he mutters, returning to his drawing. It's some sketches of a renovation he's going to give one of the cars at the garage. "What, you gonna tell me to stay away from him or somethin'?"

"Oh, don't be so full of yourself, Dean. I'm really happy for the two of you, but there's a problem."

"Which is...?"

Becky leans forward in excitement, saying, "Cas got grounded for hanging out with you, and he's too scared to say anything to Michael. So..." She drags out the word as if she's trying to prolong Dean's interest.

"So, what?"

"So, you need to figure out for yourself what to do!" she exclaims. "Gee, I thought you'd have been able to put it together by now."

Dean rolls his eyes and stands up in annoyance, opting to dig around in the fridge for a beer instead of continuing the conversation. The thing is, he's not skilled in relationships. One night stands, and he's a pro, but actual, honest-to-god relationships? He's out of his comfort zone. And with a man?

He grabs a beer and holds it out to Becky. "Want one?"

"Oh, no. I'm not 21, I can't drink," she says, wrinkling her nose.

With another roll of his eyes, Dean pops open the beer and sits down. "Look, Becky. I appreciate that you're helping us out. I do. But ya gotta understand..." he pauses for a moment, trying to find the way he wants to word his statement. "I know you like to gossip, but you can't tell anyone 'bout us, okay?"

Becky's eyes furrow, but then her jaw drops as she understands the full implications of what he's saying. Dean thinks that he face is basically a mirror of all of her emotions. She shakes her head furiously, "Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it! I would never, ever tell anyone! I swear on my life!"

Dean is pretty sure he can capitalize on the fact that she's intimidated by him if he plays his cards right. He leans across the table, eyes narrowed, and utters, "I'll remember that, Becky."

She gapes at him for a moment before she jumps up from the chair. "Okay, well, I'll be leaving now!" And then she's gone, the door slamming on her way. Sam wanders in when she leaves, looking amused.

"Becky Rosen giving you relationship advice?" he asks with his signature 'ha-ha-something-embarrassing-happened-to-Dean' expression. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Can it, bitch, unless you want me to call her back here and tell her you're crushin' on her."

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Ugh. No thanks."

"'S what I thought," Dean grins as he stands up and heads out of the room. "Now get back to your homework."

"Where are you going?"

"I got some stuff to do."

__________

It's past midnight when Castiel hears an incessant clicking sound at his window, like something is hitting the glass. For a moment, he curses the june bugs that have a tendency to throw themselves at the glass in a vain attempt to reach the light source inside his room. He rolls over and buries himself deeper under his blankets to try to block out the noise.

It's a few moments before it occurs to him that, one: there's no light on in his room that the june bugs would want, and two: june bugs generally don't stick around this late in the fall.

The blood runs cold in his veins as he contemplates all of the grotesque possibilities that could be lurking in wait with naught but a wall of glass to protect him: murderers, homophobes, monsters... to his sleep-addled mind, anything seems possible.

He's always told himself that in a situation such as this, he wouldn't be the hero. He's read enough novels to know that's a bad idea. But, he reasons, his family is just one bloodcurdling scream away.

Castiel divests himself from all but one his welcoming blankets, which he wraps around his shoulders, and heads cautiously to the window, making sure to stay to the side of it so that he can peep out and not be seen.

But what he sees is Dean Winchester, drawing back his arm to chuck another something at his window. He steps in front of it just in time to have that something plunk against the glass. Dean sees that Cas is there and winces, though he still offers a wave. Cas's heart skips a beat, and he wastes no time in throwing open the window.

"Dean! What are you doing here?" he demands in a loud whisper. "What if someone sees you!"

"I heard you got grounded, and I wanted to come make sure you were doin' okay," Dean says somewhat sheepishly.

"Dean Winchester, you are an idiot. A wonderful, wonderful idiot."

The man grins. He reaches up and grabs Cas's hand, pulling the man down until their lips meet, and even then, it's just barely. The thing about Cas's house is that it's raised up above the ground to make room for a spacious basement, but it's built at the edge of a hill, raising the back of the first floor up higher than the front.

"You have one minute to get in here," Castiel growls, their eyes locked. "And you better be quiet, because if my family hears you, they'll kill the both of us."

Dean nods breathlessly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." With that, he hooks an arm around the windowsill and begins to drag himself up. He requires very little assistance from Cas, choosing instead to show off his physical prowess. The younger man, however, helps Dean through the final leg of his journey by wrapping an arm around Dean's torso and guiding him to sit on the windowsill so that he can swing his legs around and inside. It's the easiest way to get him inside without making much noise.

Once Dean is in, Cas closes the window. When he turns around, the taller man is just looking at him with a soft smile.

"Damn," Dean murmurs with a laugh of something similar to disbelief. Castiel vaguely becomes aware of the fact that he's wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. He's still cocooned in a blanket, and he's pretty sure that his hair is pointing wildly in a thousand different directions. But he forgets all of that for a moment, because Dean is looking at him like he's blessed just to be in Castiel's bedroom, seeing him like this.

"Hi," Cas says for a lack of anything else to say.

"Hi," Dean echoes, smile widening. "You're cute, y'know that?"

Castiel blushes furiously at the statement, ducking his head. "Please."

"No, you are!" he exclaims, which earns him a shush from Cas. With his voice lowered, he walks over to the other man. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

"You have a habit of leaving me speechless," Cas smiles softly. He crawls back into his bed and pats the spot next to him. Dean kicks off his boots and removes his leather jacket before he joins the other man.

"I don't cuddle," Dean informs him as he wraps an arm around Castiel, dragging the smaller man over him. Cas rolls onto his side and traps Dean beneath his arm while he rests his head on the man's chest. He likes that he can feel Dean's heartbeat and each rise and fall of his body as he breathes.

"Your family is kind of dumb," Dean informs him quietly, breaking the silence. The other man huffs in amusement.

"They really aren't all terrible. It's mainly Michael and Zachariah who seem to think that they've got divine right to rule over all of us." He rolls his eyes, though Dean can't see it.

"Yeah, well. They think they're hot shit, and I don't like it."

"No one likes it."

Dean tips Cas's chin up and kisses him softly. Cas drinks in the feel of it; before Dean, he's never kissed anyone, and he regrets waiting so long for it. Maybe it's just because of Dean's skilled lips, but the whole action fills him with warmth and just general happiness. He likes the way Dean brings one hand up to touch Castiel's jaw. He likes the way they seem to fit together, even though this goes against every social doctrine that he's ever been taught. But most of all, he likes that it's Dean Winchester - perfect, beautiful, dangerous, masculine Dean - that's kissing him like his very existence depends upon this action.

And Dean, for all of the girls - and the small handful of guys, though he doesn't talk about it - that he's kissed, there's something about Castiel that makes him different. There's no pressure between them, no promise of sex later, no burning shame, and no rush.

When they break for air, Dean is smiling so much that it's hard for him to get his breath back.

"I just think you should know," Castiel starts off, sounding nervous and a little out of breath himself, "that I'm not going to sleep with you. Yet."

The older man can't help it; he chokes on the laugh that he tries to smother. "That's okay, Cas. Whenever you're ready."

"Why are you laughing?" he asks with a tilt of his head. Dean likes that, he thinks, he likes it a lot. That naivety and confusion, the way Cas's brow furrows and his lips part slightly.

"You're just real blunt, is all."

"Oh. My apologies."

"Don't be sorry. I like it." He taps the side of Cas's face endearingly and kisses him again.

They lie there together for a while, Cas absently stroking a hand through Dean's hair, when Dean turns to him.

"D'you wanna move in with me?"

Cas is startled from his motions. "What?"

"Move in with me. Move out of here. Do you want to?"

"... You don't think that's moving awfully fast?"

"Ah, hell, I don't know when it's, when it's the right time to ask. I've never done this shit before. I just thought, since you're an adult, and Sam's talking about moving in with Jess..." he trails off, scrubbing at his face in embarrassment. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Forget I asked."

Cas furrows his brow. "No, Dean. I would like to move in with you."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Woah. This is... this is great," Dean grins excitedly. "I won't make you share a room with me or anything. My old bedroom is open, and you can have that. I don't want you feel like you're forced to sleep with me or whatever."

"I appreciate that, Dean," he smiles.

"We can move your stuff out whenever you want. Just lemme know, and I'll be here."

Castiel makes to answer, but he's overcome by a yawn instead. It's probably a ridiculous hour of the morning, and it's taking his toll on him.

"You should sleep, Cas."

And though he wants to argue, Castiel merely nods instead, nuzzling into the warmth of Dean's chest. His last thought before he allows himself to drift into oblivion is how much better it feels to have someone sleeping right next to him.

Dean doesn't sleep. He just holds Cas in his arms and watches the moonlight dance across the man's body. It's the first time he's ever done this, the first time he's ever lingered for longer than a few minutes.

When the sky turns from black to gray, Dean disentangles himself as gently as possible from Castiel's embrace. With a silence acquired by years of juvenile delinquency, he pulls his boots and jacket back on and exits through the window. There's no place he'd rather be than in that bed, with the rest of the world oblivious to the two of them. But for now, he has a life to get back to, and he can't jeopardize Castiel by letting the Novak family know he stayed the night.

Before he goes, he takes one last look into the room. Castiel looks peaceful wrapped up in more blankets than Dean can count. His room is quaint and just a little bit messy, but it's the kind of mess where Cas can probably find everything he needs. Boxes are still unopened and stacked against the wall; hell, it seems like all Cas has unpacked are some of his clothes, his records, and some stacks of books. It seems so typical of Cas that Dean can't help but smile.

And then he leaves. Dean has never really been one for poetry, yet he can't help but think that maybe the rising sun is a prophecy of things to come.