Work Text:
in the aspiration of being okay
(october 2010)
Dean met Castiel on a windowsill. Castiel was sitting, his back leaned against the frame of it, and smoking a cigarette. Dean was just trying to open his damn window, which was glued shut from paint. Once he finally got it open, he yelled out,
“What are you doing, you crazy bitch?”
“Smoking a cigarette, you bastard. You want one?”
Dean was 13 years old when he had his first cigarette. Castiel was 11 when he had his first and had been smoking them ever since. They learned a lot about each other that day.
They were inseparable after that. Dean wouldn’t dare sit on the windowsill like Cas, but he put his bed right up next to it, so he could sit and just lean out. Castiel laughed at him for this, but it was a long drop down.
They were both in tall brick buildings. The brick was nearly grey with age, and it smelled like urine from the alley below. Someone was always yelling, and sometimes they’d hear crying. They’d both just ignore it, because what can you do? The space between them was only 10 feet perhaps, but it felt farther, so a few weeks after they met, Castiel would come over to Dean’s. He would still smoke, but he wouldn’t sit on the windowsill because Dean would get anxious.
Cas started coming around a lot, and Dean’s dad didn’t seem to mind, so Cas would just keep coming. They didn’t go to the same school, so they’d meet up after and play cards or listen to AC/DC out of an iPod and share earbuds.
Sam became close to Cas as well, and started trying to hang out with them the older he got, but Dean would kick him out. Cas was his friend, and Sam couldn’t take that away from him.
(may 2012)
That last year of middle school went by quickly between hanging out with Cas and having his first girlfriend, Lisa. He only started dating her because her breasts were big and because he really wanted to lose his virginity, which he ended up doing freshman year anyway with an older girl. Cas shook his head when Dean told him this.
“Did you like it?” he asked Dean, his head propped up on the wall and the rest of his body laying on Dean’s bed.
“Well, yeah, did you like it?” Dean asked him, and Cas laughed.
“I’m still a virgin,” Cas replied, pulling a flask out of his pocket. Besides smoking, Cas was an avid drinker, but Dean didn’t really think much of it. He wasn’t an angry drunk or anything, if anything he seemed happier when he was drinking.
“How on Earth are you still a virgin?” Dean stared at him incredulously, his mouth gaping open. Castiel Novak, the classic bad boy, who drinks and smokes and beats up kids, hasn’t had sex? Dean assumed he’d been doing that since he was ten.
“Don’t like girls all too much,” he said, sitting up and giving Dean a small smile.
“You like boys?”
“Maybe,” Cas whispered, taking a swig out of flask. Dean could smell the whiskey from where he was sitting.
(september 2014)
It wasn’t until the end of junior year that Cas lost his virginity, and it wasn’t until the beginning of senior year when he stopped being the Cas he grew up with.
He’d changed, anyone could see that. He started doing his homework, and trying for better grades. He’s never had terrible grades, Cas was always smart, but he got the occasional C every once in a while. Senior year he got all As.
He stopped drinking as well, which was unusual. For him to be sober was like him being a totally different person. He kept smoking, though. That was a habit he couldn’t quit, no matter how much he wanted too. It was his crutch.
Dean questioned this constantly, and Cas would just keep saying he had to stop his bad habits.
“I suppose I just don’t understand how someone can go from not giving a shit to giving lots of shits within a two month span,” Dean said, shaking his head. Dean’s grades were always bad, he never picked up smoking, but he drank quite a bit. It sucked having the one person you always drank with stop drinking.
“I just had to grow up, Dean. Maybe you should too,” Cas nodded to the nearly empty bottle of beer next to Dean’s bed. He looked down quickly after saying that, back to the homework he seemed to always be doing.
“I was having a bad day, you asshole,” Dean grunted, kicking the bottle underneath his
bed. He could hear it clink with others he had rolled under there and winced.
“Seems you have a lot of bad days.”
Cas was right. Dean did have a lot of bad days, but he didn’t know that. Dean’s father
was useless. He was always drunk and trying to start fights. Dean ignored them now, but Sam loved to fight with their dad. It always ended up violent, and Dean always ended up with bruises.
He didn’t mind taking the punches for Sammy, but it’d be nice if he didn’t have to take any punches at all. If he had it his way, he’d get a job and take Sammy and get out of there. But that’s hard when you have no savings, no car, and no family to help you out.
“It’s none of your fuckin’ business, Cas,” Dean finally said, sighing. Cas had his fair share of secrets that Dean knew nothing about. He’d come over with bruises littering his body. Usually places that could be covered up, his stomach, his thighs. Dean could remember his shorts riding up and revealing what seemed like miles and miles of blue skin. Or his lips filled with cuts that would gush blood every time he smiled.
Dean never asked, because he didn’t think Cas would want him to. He thought Cas would do the same for him.
“Of course it’s my business Dean,” he said, looking up from his worksheet, “You’re my best friend.”
Cas was his best friend. Cas was his only friend, actually. Dean avoided his gaze. He didn’t want him to know almost all his days were bad days. He didn’t want him to know the only good days he had were when they were spent entirely with him.
“Doesn’t matter really…” He mumbled, letting the subject drop. Cas continued to scribble on his paper and Dean laid on his bed, one earbud blasting music. They stayed like that for hours maybe, Dean dozing off sometime in between. He woke up to his door swinging open and banging against the wall.
“Dean, I’m so fucking- oh hey, Cas- I’m so fucking pissed,” Sam said, throwing his book bag on the floor. He sat on the carpet and looked at Cas.
“Can I have a cigarette?” Sam asked, pointing toward the case of them in Cas’s bag. Cas nodded and threw the case to him.
“No,” Dean got up from the bed and snatched it from Sam’s hands. Sam threw his hands in the air, sighing heavily.
“I’m not a kid, Dean.”
“You’re thirteen, dumbass. Take a shot if you’re so stressed,” Dean replied, throwing him a flask from his pocket. Sam twisted the cap open and sniffed it. He scrunched up his face and closed it. He set it aside on the carpet.
“Drinking’s no better than smoking,” Sam warned, laying his head on his backpack. He was getting tall much too quickly, and his legs made the room feel cramped.
Before Dean could respond, Cas piped in. “Why are you pissed off?”
“Some guys at school won’t stop harassing me,” he replied, massaging his temples.
“What kind of dumb shit have you gotten yourself in now?” Dean questioned, groaning. This would end in a black and blue and a scolding from his father. He could see it now.
“Listen, I didn’t think it would get this far. These guys were teasing this girl at school because she’s a bit chubby. So I just told them to stop being dicks, and now they won’t stop following me around taunting me and throwing fucking- like actually fucking throwing rocks at me. Fucking rocks. Like, that shit hurts.”
Cas laughed and put down his notebook. Dean slapped him playfully but giggled a bit as well. There was something pure about a few thirteen year olds throwing rocks at Sam.
“Want me to beat them up for you?” Dean asked, smiling. Cas nodded at Sam. He was always one to cheer on a fistfight.
“No, it’s fine. I can take them,” Sam mumbled, sitting up and going for the door.
“Karate isn’t gonna help you defend yourself from flying rocks, Sam,” Cas said, laughing.
“No, Cas, he can karate chop them mid-air,” Dean replied, laughing as Sam slammed the door shut. He could hear a distant ‘fuck you’ before Cas and him collapsed into a fit of giggles.
Today was one of the good days.
(march 2015)
Everyone had applied to colleges already, and Dean had a plan already in mind. He wasn’t going to college, no, he was going to a car mechanics school. He couldn’t afford college anyway, and his grades were so shitty that he’d be forced to go to community college first. Anyways, he liked cars, and this way he could stay near Sam at all times.
Cas, on the other hand, was looking to get far away. It seemed like he applied to every school that wasn’t nearby. He wanted to leave and never look back. He had dreams to go to NYU, and with his SATs and ACTs scores, it wasn’t too far from becoming reality. He couldn’t pay for it, not even close with the cost of out-of-state tuition. But apparently, if you’re dirt broke and live in a shitty area, the government likes to hand out money to kids with good grades. Cas was a perfect candidate. He had racked up tens of thousands in scholarships, and now all he had to do was wait for the acceptance letters.
Dean almost wished he’d done the same, but he was never as smart as Cas. Even when he was at his absolute worst, Cas always got decent grades. Dean wasn’t as clever, and when he tried, which he rarely did, his grades were mediocre at best. College wasn’t in the cards for Dean, he knew that.
But part of him still wished he could go away to college and never have to come back. He wished he could live in a dorm, and go to frat parties, and drink too much. But he couldn’t leave Sammy, he’d never forgive himself.
His plan wasn’t a bad one. He could be happy like that. They could get a two bedroom somewhere nice and get Sam into a better school. Sam was a genius, even though he cursed too much and kept asking Cas for cigarettes. Sam was going places, even if it meant Dean couldn’t.
Dean thought about this while walking to the abandoned train tracks. Cas had asked him to meet him there, a common occurrence. It became less and less often though, they used to drink till they couldn’t walk straight and smash the bottles on the ground, but now they just talked while Cas smoked and Dean sipped on a beer.
He watched the sunset turn from a bright orange to deep purple, soaking in the spring weather. It wasn’t warm yet, it hardly ever was in Milwaukee, but it wasn’t snowing anymore, and for that he was thankful.
He saw Cas in the distance, a towel laid out in the dirt and his backpack being used as a pillow. An unlit cigarette was in his hand as he watched the sunset. His glasses were propped on the top of his head.
Dean took a seat beside him. “You can’t see without those,” Dean said, nodding at this glasses.
“When I look at it like this, it looks like a painting. All the colors get blurry and mix together.”
“Are you high on something?” Dean asked, his eyebrows lifting.
“Only on nicotine,” Cas replied, smiling. He took out his lighter and lit the cigarette. He offered it to Dean before taking a long drag. It was almost impressive to watch. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay, shoot,” Dean answered, willing him to go on.
“I’m gonna be gone by May,” he said, looking at Dean now. He looked nervous.
“Uh, you going on vacation or something?”
“I got an internship… in New York. And I said I’d go. And then when I’m done, I’m gonna go to NYU,” he explained, his foot nervously tapping the grass. Dean put his head down for a moment before looking up at him.
“I’m really proud of you, Cas,” he said, a sad smile on his face. He thought he’d have more time with him.
“I’m sorry,” Cas blurted out, grabbing Dean’s hand.
“No, this is good for you. I’m glad you’re going,” Dean replied, looking down at their clasped hands. In less than two months, he wouldn’t have his best friend anymore. But he was getting out, and if anyone deserved it, it was Cas.
“I wish you could come with me,” Cas whispered. Dean laid his head next to his, and now all they could see was the blues turning darker and darker in the sky. The stars were coming out.
“I wish I could too,” he admitted. They stayed like that, in silence for a long time.
Dean wondered how two months could be enough time for Cas and him to say goodbye. They could visit each other, but Cas wouldn’t want to come back, and Dean wouldn’t have money. There’s phone calls and texts but Dean knew they wouldn’t be able to maintain it. It was like they were breaking up, and now they had to spend the limited days they had as best as possible.
He couldn’t think of a better way to spend it then sitting here with Cas now, gazing at the stars above in complete silence with the exception of their soft breathing. Life had taken many things from Dean, but he wanted to desperately hold on to Cas.
It felt like minutes, but the sky was black when Dean came out of his dozed state. Cas was pointing upwards and tapping Dean on the shoulder.
“You see that, Dean?” Cas asked quietly. Dean tried to follow his finger up, looking for something out of the ordinary.
“The stars, you mean?” Dean questioned, after failing to see anything odd.
“Yeah.”
Dean laughed. “Yeah, Cas, I see them,” he started. He said more gently now, “They’re everywhere.”
“Pick one,” Cas suggested, shifting his head.
“There’s thousands.”
“Well, more than that, but just pick one.”
Dean smiled, but nodded. He focused on one of the stars. He nodded.
“It’s dead, probably,” Cas stated, turning his head to look at Dean. Dean grinned and shook his head, looking back at Cas.
“That’s morbid,” he whispered.
“We still get the pleasure of seeing them, though,” Cas muttered. He squeezed Dean’s hand. “Even stars are mortal, Dean. Nothing lives forever.”
Dean thought about that a lot the following days leading up to Cas’s departure. It sounded like acceptance.
Sam seemed visibly more upset than Dean, and Sam wanted more than anything to go with Cas. He kept suggesting ideas to Dean, saying Dean could get custody of him and move to New York. Dean brushed them off, because he knew that they wouldn’t work. If he was anything, he was a realist.
He was set to start mechanic school in September, and Cas said he was happy for him. They both did better than what was expected of them.
(may 2015)
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before he knew it, Dean was standing on a train platform next to Cas. It was nearing midnight, and Cas would be in New York by midnight tomorrow. It was a long trip.
There was a flickering street lamp above them, and they stood in silence as they waiting for the train to approach. People were milling around them, some sitting on the cement, and others pacing around.
“You’ll call when you get there?” Dean asked Cas, breaking the silence. Cas nodded, staying quiet. He was happy to go, anyone could see that, but right now he looked burned out. He looked like he didn’t wanna leave. “I’ll miss you.”
Cas smiled sadly before snapping his head towards the oncoming train. The whistle sounded loudly and all the people on the platform began to stir.
The silence was broken by the onslaught of horns and alarms and people running to get a good seat.
Dean looked at Cas, and realized that he really didn’t want him to go. He wanted to jump in that train with him and never think about the life he was leaving behind. Dean quickly pulled Cas in for a hug, and they stood in the middle of the chaos for the few seconds they had left.
“I love you,” Cas whispered in his ear, before burying his head into Dean’s shoulder. He hesitantly pushed Cas off, willing him to go to the train. Seats were filling up fast, and Cas liked the windows.
Dean couldn’t even get himself to say it back, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to let go. He watched Cas grab a window before turning to leave. He caught his eye and winked before exiting the platform. Only 25 hours until they’ll talk again.
(december 2015)
One phone call a day turned into one phone call a week, and then a month, and then they just stopped calling. Life was just too hard, and they were too far from each other. It was Christmas now, seven months since Cas left. They had set up a Christmas tree up this year, since his dad was on a kick.
He stopped drinking for the hundredth time, but Dean waited patiently for the day he’d fall back to booze. It was only tradition. But now, he watched as Sam opened up presents happily from both Dean and their father.
Dean walked to his room, desperate to take a break from his father's empty promises. He grabbed his earbuds and began blasting music, willing himself into a nap. He must of slept for half an hour before a knock on his door woke him.
“Hey, what’s up?” Sam said, walking in. He sat on the edge of the bed, clutching something in his hand.
“Napping,” Dean complained, turning to his side.
“I brought you a cookie,” Sam offered, and Dean turned back around. He already had four, but another one wasn’t going to hurt. “Why are you in here?”
“Just tired of Dad’s shit,” Dean sighed, shoving the cookie in his mouth. He chewed angrily.
“Have you called Cas?” Sam said, out of the blue.
“Uh, no, did you?” Dean asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
“No, but I thought you would, you guys are best friends, after all,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes.
“Not anymore, Sam, I haven’t talked to him in months,” Dean said, scratching his head nervously. He really should call. Cas is probably all alone in his small apartment for Christmas.
“That’s crazy,” He started, before getting up and opening the door to leave, “You guys were best friends.”
I think we were more than that, Dean thought to himself. The door closed gently and he wished he had the courage to call.
(april 2017)
The apartment Dean got for himself and Sam was really quite nice. He finished school a few months ago, and the job he got afterwards paid well. Sam was disappointed at first for leaving the school district he grew up in, but he learned to like the new school. Either way, Sam would be graduating next year, and after that Dean didn’t think he’d stay in Wisconsin. Sam was like Cas in that way.
Dean hadn’t spoken to him for years now, and it weighed on him heavily. He held some sort of resentment for him, he’d figured that much out. Dean wanted what Cas had, but he couldn’t afford it. Cas could leave Dean behind, but Dean couldn’t do that to Sam.
In the end, Dean knew that Milwaukee was never good enough for Cas. He always needed something more than that. He needed something bigger than this town, something bigger than himself. Perhaps something bigger than this life.
Recently, he found out that Cas’s father was put in jail for domestic abuse. Dean couldn’t say he was surprised, but he felt for Cas. He really had no one, not the father who abused him, or the mother who let it happen to both him and herself.
Dean’s father, on the other hand, was living in the same slum as always, paying with his disability checks from month to month. Sam visited from time to time, but if Dean could ignore him for the rest of his life, he would.
The nicest part of the apartment was the balcony. They were up on the third floor, and it gave them a nice view of Lake Michigan. He sat there and watched the sunset, the sky turning pink before his eyes.
“I feel like your always out here,” Sam said, interrupting the silent moment Dean was having. He had just come back from one of his clubs at school.
“I guess,” Dean replied, yawning. His days started early.
“I don’t see the appeal,” Sam concluded, sighing loudly. He munched loudly on a bag of chips and Dean rolled his eyes.
(may 2018)
“Cas called, Dean.”
“What?” He asked, taken aback. It’s been nearly three years. He couldn’t imagine Cas calling for anything.
“He, uh, called to congratulate me. On Stanford. He must of seen on Facebook or something,” Sam said, giving Dean a small smile.
“Oh, right,” Dean answered, slightly disappointed. He was glad Cas called Sam about that- getting into Stanford was no easy feat. And anyway, Sam used to look up to Cas.
He just wished Cas called him too, even if it was just to say hi.
“He asked how you were though,” Sam said quickly, and Dean tried to hide a smile.
“What’d you say?”
“I said you were good, you know, fixing cars and being a responsible adult.”
Dean laughed, “I try Sam. Honestly.”
“He’s good too, Dean,” Sam offered, “He got a book published right out of college. You should call.”
“I can’t,” Dean scoffed, sitting down on a dining room chair. Their dinner was getting cold.
“I don’t understand you guys… you were best friends, and you can’t even call him because what? Emotional trauma?” Sam exclaimed, sitting down across from Dean.
“It would just be weird now,” Dean replied, trying not to raise his voice. It was incredible how many times Sam had tried to push the friendship in the past three years. It almost seemed he wanted it more than Dean, and Dean wanted it.
“He was in love with you,” Sam snapped, bringing Dean to look at him incredulously.
“What?” Dean uttered.
“And I think you were in love with him too,” he continued, while Dean continuously shook his head.
“I’m not gay,” Dean said, standing back up. He’d lost his appetite.
“I never said you were,” Sam said, huffing, standing up now too, “But you two idiots have been dodging each other for years because you’re too embarrassed to tell each other what you felt and what you feel.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dean yelled, turning red with embarrassment. He shook his head as a short, harsh laugh came out. “I’m not- I wasn’t in love with Cas. We were friends.”
“You and I both know that’s not true,” Sam replied gently.
“When you love someone, you don’t leave. And he left, and he never came back, so don’t come at me with this bullshit,” Dean exhaled, walking to the door before Sam could respond. He needed a drive somewhere, anywhere.
He drove in circles for hours. He thought about the night where they watched the stars, and when he saw him leave forever. Cas told him he loved him.
But friends can love each other. Friends can hold hands. Friends can feel the way he felt after Cas left… can’t they?
(march 2019)
It was really cold today, and mixed with the harsh wind, he felt like he might just get frostbite on his toes. He thought a walk was a good idea, for God knows what reason, but now he was three miles away from home with no way to get back except his own two feet.
He walked along a strip and decided to stay in a store to warm up before traveling back home in the harsh winter. He entered a small book store, which was run down but contained a friendly old lady at the desk who smiled at him when he came in.
He browsed as he tried to warm up, looking for anything he’d be interested in. He wasn’t much of a reader.
Dean stopped when he saw a shelf lined with the same book. It was called ‘In the Aspiration of Being Okay’, and the author was Castiel Novak. They had made a mini shrine of him, and it talked about how he went to high school here, in Milwaukee.
He left quickly, not daring to open even one copy. He wasn’t even done warming up, but his toes would just have to deal with it.
(december 2019)
Dean could hear Sam snoring in the room next to him. He came back from California for the holidays, and it’s been nice living with him again, even if it’s only for a week or two. Dean got lonely after the first month of him being gone.
He switched on the light, stumbling to the bathroom in the pitch black. He used the bathroom before washing his hands and looking at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t see himself going back to sleep anytime soon, despite the dark circles underneath his eyes.
He walked back to his room, careful not to hit any creaky floorboards or bump into anything. The last thing he wanted was Sam knowing he had a tendency to wake up at 4am everyday and not go back to sleep.
Dean walked in and shut the door, before tripping on an unidentified object on the floor. He cursed quietly but caught himself before his face met the floor. He looked back looking for what he tripped over. Who leaves shit in the middle of the floor?
It was a book, actually, it was the book. The book he’s been trying to avoid for the past two years, which was hard when it had been on the New York’s best sellers and all over the internet as a ‘major success’. Even Sam had bragged about it to Dean, telling him how good it was, how it was a masterpiece.
He wanted to read it, he was just scared about what it would be about. He opened the cover, and a sticky note was pasted over the dedication. It was in Sam's handwriting. All it said was, ‘I think it’s time’. And finally, Dean agreed.
He removed the note and smiled softly. It was dedicated to him. “To Dean”, it said.
(december 2019, one day later)
He was done with the book by the morning. And then he read it again. And then he took a nap. And then he was getting a luggage ready and ignoring Sam’s questions.
“I read it, Sam,” Dean admitted, sighing. He took his luggage and began to go for the front door.
“That doesn’t explain why you have a luggage,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s shoulder before he could open the door.
“I gotta go see him.’
“It’s New Years Eve, you can’t just go,” Sam said, shaking his head. He was nearly smiling, the dick.
“You read the book. You know I have to go,” Dean replied, finally opening the door. He walked out into the cold, getting ready to ascend the steps to his car and drive.
“You can’t wait?” Sam asked, sighing. He planned to take Dean to some hipster bar so they could watch the ball drop. Dean shook his head, while going down the stairs. Sam shut the door and followed him all the way down. Dean opened the trunk of his car, throwing his luggage in it. He had know idea if he’d even need it.
“Would you wait?” Dean asked Sam, now. Sam shook his head, and whispered something. Dean couldn’t make it out, but it sounded a lot like ‘go.’
He jumped into his car, and waved goodbye to Sam. The rumble underneath his car was brilliant and there was snow upon his eyelashes and he felt wonderful.
(january 2020, new years)
The drive was long and hard, as he sped through snow covered roads and heavy wind. He was nearly there now. It was almost midnight, but with the help of coffee and music he kept driving.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the book. They were right, it was a masterpiece. It was almost an autobiography, but no one knew that except for Dean, Sam, and Cas. They all lived it. Cas didn’t call himself Cas in the book, but he kept Dean and Sam’s name.
Cas spent many chapters speaking about his parents, about the terrible things his father would do. He spoke about how his mother wouldn’t stop him, not even when Cas was just a toddler. He spoke about his addictions, his vices. He talked about his sexuality, and how he never even thought to tell his parents.
But mostly, he spoke about Dean. He spoke about the humid summer days spent in Dean’s room drinking cheap beer, and helping Sam with his homework. He wrote about the day they sat near the train tracks, but he ended the book with the night at the train station. Dean kept hearing the last page in his mind. He couldn’t forget it. It raided him.
‘I wish you could’ve seen your eyes glittering under the moon that night. You almost looked like you were crying. The lamp above us kept flickering, and your eyes kept darting back and forth. You wouldn’t dare look me in the eye.
You kept trying to break the silence, by joking around, or saying you’ll miss me, or you’ll call me. I wouldn’t reply, because I couldn’t let you break it. I had to keep the silence because I wanted you to remember what I was about to say. I needed you to remember.
I loved you, Dean. I think I loved you from the moment we met.’
His car slowed as he attempted to find a place to park. The street was littered with snow covered cars, and he could see Cas’s apartment. He eventually found a spot two blocks down, and while it was freezing, he could feel that his face was hot with anticipation as he walked towards Cas’s door.
He stood in front of it for what seemed like forever before knocking. The lights were still on, and he could hear shuffling. He held his breath.
The door opened, and it was as if he was seventeen again. Cas looked the same, his hair had grown out a bit, and he had new glasses but he was still Cas.
“Dean?” Cas whispered, clutching the door.
“I’m in love with you,” Dean breathed.