Chapter Text
“Cannot believe I let you talk me into this.” Dean mutters, looking up at the boat with a weird feeling of semi-nostalgia. The memories associated with this place are thick and not really pleasant, but there’s is some good stuff tangled into it: the sense of escape and, weirdly, psychological safety, and meeting Cas.
“It’s a vacation, Dean.”
“On a goddamn boat.”
“Ship,” Cas corrects, slipping his fingers into his hands and tangling them together, tight, and giving him one of those lovely, dry smiles. “Sounds more pretentious that way.”
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester. Please leave a message after the tone.
Hey, Sam. It’s us, calling from the embarking queue. That’s boat talk for ‘getting on queue’ and you can keep that little piece of wisdom for free. We made it down to Southampton, obviously, because the cruise people provide a goddamn escort service all the way from London because rich people can’t be trusted with freakin’ anything. Not that kind of escort, ha. Anyway, enjoy your overnight ‘megabus’ to Paris, you two crazy cats. While you sweat it out next to some sad, vomiting teenager and some fat guy with a gas problem, trying to sleep on a damn bus, me and Cas are gonna be having a three course dinner with the captain so --- nah, that was tame, Cas, I could be a lot more graphic if I wanted, and it’s his choice to -- anyway --- yeah, I’m still thinking about it. I’ll let you know. See you, Sammy.
*
“Thank you for coming with me,” Cas says, fixing him one of those familiar intense-looks, spilling over with gratitude and affection and something weighty. “I know this is strange.”
“Awwh, man,” Dean says, pausing rifling through their suitcases to check that they have everything as a byproduct of the slight anxiety over this whole thing, because addressing this is way more important. Dean sits down on the edge of the bed instead and cocks his head, till Cas gets the hint and settles in the open v of Dean’s knees, hands on his shoulders. “You know it’s a no-freaking-brainer really, right?” Dean asks, brushing his knuckles over Cas’ lower back, skimming over the warmth of his skin. “Not like I’m gonna leave you here without backup.”
“I can handle my brothers. I regularly choose not to, but I am able to.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dean says, “Got every faith in you sunshine but…. Firstly, I’d miss the hell out of you. Abandoning me in California for a month.” Dean says, packing the word with enough vehemence that he hopes it translates how little he’d consider that option. Dean’s pretty sure they checked the ‘long distant’ thing off the to-do list for ever. He’s not in a rush to do any of that again.
“There are phones.”
“Can’t do this through the phone, though.” Dean says, nudging Cas a little closer with his thighs and offering him a wolfish look in the general direction of the guy's crotch, which wins him the smile Dean was looking for.
“Technically, it has been done,” Cas says, “Although I do remember the cost of calling someone on international waters.”
“What a way to stack up a phone bill,” Dean says, spreading his fingers wide, palms resting over Cas’ tailbone. “Second off, it’s about time I put in some good quality time into getting your brothers to like me.”
“They don’t dislike you.”
“Third —- not leaving you at the mercy of sharing a room with Gabriel again.”
“That was an experience.”
“Oh I remember, Sweetheart,” Dean says. “Although, the more I know you, the more I’m convinced those extra, extra safe condoms were yours all along.”
“Is this the kind of excellent emotional support I can expect?”
“And —- this way, you had a solid argument for cutting it short. Not overdosing on family time.”
“Have you abandoned numbering your points?”
“Fifth— I’m completely in fucking love with you, asshat, and I know full damn well that you didn’t wanna go alone cause your family make you crazy, so obviously I’m gonna be here.”
“Is there a sixth?” Cas asks, cradling Dean’s face in his hands with this warm smile that makes his chest flood with affection.
“Yeah,” Dean says, “Free vacation, courtesy of your big bro. Honestly, poor enough right now that that bit probably would’ve swung it.”
“Assbut,” Cas says, as Dean wraps his arms around him and hug-tackles him to the bed, burying his face in his shoulder and that glorious familiar Cas scent.
“I have a seventh point to submit for consideration.” Cas says, when they’ve settled looking at each other.
“Yeah?” Dean blinks up at him.
“I have never had sex on a boat.”
“Dunno if I’d count that as a separate point,” Dean says, trailing his fingertips across Cas’ shoulders, because apparently he can’t stop freaking caressing Cas today. Not that it’s day-specific, really, but Cas is especially touchable right now: mostly put together but slightly rumpled from the flight, jetlag creased under his eyes with some kind of worry pulling at the corner of his mouth that always coaxes Dean into trying to acting the clown to try and win a proper smile. And they’re on vacation. They’ve finally got clear schedules and actual, proper time together and Dean will take that. “Seems kinda covered by point number uno but —- yeah, real freakin’ tragedy.”
“You’re currently on the pillow chocolate,” Cas smiles and there it is, softening his features with easy-intimacy. “Your first point was that you’d miss me. The sub point was about sex.”
“Urgh,” Dean says, sitting up enough to locate the little square of chocolate and rescue it from being squashed against the pillows. “Okay, Mr Research, you’ve worn me down with technicalities — point seven is boat sex. Freakin’ love pillow chocolate.”
“That one’s mine.”
“Fight me for it.” Dean throws back, peeling off the wrapper with a wink, just because Cas’ smile broadens. Some more of the unease retreats from his eyes.
“You may be worse than Gabriel.”
“For that, I am gonna eat it.” He finishes, pointedly biting it in half with a smirk.
“Point eight,” Cas says, reaching forward to press a kiss into the hollow of his neck with purpose, so maybe the can’t-keep-his-hands-under-control is a mutual problem.
“That’s gotta be a,” Dean begins, getting cut off by Cas planting one on him, mid-sentence, “Subpoint.”
“You taste like my chocolate, thief.”
“You can have both tomorrow,” Dean says, finishing off the other half, as Cas sits up to shed his jacket and curl back into Dean’s space, chasing his body-warmth and comfort, and it’s lovely and safe and easy, these days.
“I do not remotely believe that.”
“Probably smart,” Dean says, reaching forward to kiss him again because he cannot think of a single reason why he wouldn’t. “Don’t really believe it myself.”
“You also said,” Cas says, kissing him against the pillows, as Dean fumbles with the bottom of Cas’ shirt — cause Cas is the kind of freak that wears a button down on a damn plane, looking all put together and gorgeous while Dean’s sweating through his scabby t-shirt and sweats — so he can get to some freakin’ skin. “That the first thing you were going to do is shower the plane off you.”
“All right, third thing,” Dean says, “Right after stealing your chocolate and de boat hymenating you.”
“Very mixed metaphor.” Cas says, “I love you too, Dean Winchester.”
“Good.” Dean says, crowding forward to kiss him properly and —-
Then there’s a knock on their door.
“Wow.” Dean comments, “Not even left the harbour and your brothers are already cock blocking me.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Cas mutters, detangling himself to stand up, trudging to the door with a poised expression of irritation. Dean busies himself sitting up and looking a little more put together, then the person at the door squeals and declares ‘Castiel!’ and Cas is obscured by a flash of red hair and a pair of arms.
“Charlie?” Dean says, scrambling to sit up and not quite making it before she’s abandoned Cas at the doorway and thrown herself at him. “Holy shit —-it’s , you said you couldn’t switch boats.” Dean says, hugging her to his chest.
“Surprise, bitches! Also —- hi, nice to meet you.” Charlie says, pulling back to sit on the edge of the bed and wave at Cas. “You’re even dreamier from not far away or in a picture.”
“Hello Charlie.”
“How great do you look?” Charlie demands, turning back to him and slapping Dean’s knee with enthusiasm. “Happy looks great on you.”
“Thanks kiddo,” Dean beams, “I — not that it isn’t great to see you, but shouldn’t you be not risking your job coming in here?”
“Pst, if Dean Winchester, the least subtle man in the universe can get away with it, I’m pretty sure I’m fine.”
“I can be subtle.”
“Oh I’m Dean, I’m definitely not in love with the dreamy passenger with the voice I won’t shut up about, even if I just gave me the keys to my prized possession as a symbol for how much I love my brother.”
“You —- shut up.”
“Anyway, they probably won’t fire me when I’ve already handed in my notice.”
“What? No fucking way —- you’re done escaping?”
“Yep,” Charlie beams, and she looks different too. He knows the look, because he sees it in himself when he looks in the mirror and faces down a guy he actually likes, these days. He holds himself differently. It’s about shaking off burdens. It’s about feeling like you have control over how your life turns out. “Got me a flight booked and a job at google.”
“You —- wait, google like in silicon valley google, or…?”
“Yep.”
“You’re coming to freaking California,” Dean beams, hugging her again, because he just has to, because there’s nothing else to be done with how fucking happy he is right now. “Pick up a damn phone and tell a guy.”
“Figured it’s better in person,” Charlie says, “But, I’m back, bitches!”
“Holy crap this is the best news,” Dean grins, “So fucking proud of you, kiddo.”
“Shut up, Mr seven months sober, stealing my lines. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m going to leave you to catch up,” Cas says, pulling Dean out of his moment. It’s a mark of how goddamn excited he is about Charlie that he pretty much forgot Cas was there, because usually Cas has his own centripetal force, pulls him in and takes up all the space in his head.
“Oh —- no! I didn’t mean to drive you out of your room,” Charlie says, “And we’re not best friends yet and I am deeply invested in that as an end goal.”
“We have time,” Cas smiles and, god, Dean loves him. That smile. “A two week cruise and afterwards, it seems. Let Dean know when you’re not working and we can arrange dinner.”
“I would love that,” Charlie says,” And —- totally sweet talked the shift manager to finish off our European adventure,” Charlie says, glancing back at Dean before looking back at Cas. “If you’re cool with a third wheel with really great hair and excellent taste in television.”
“Oh, we're having movie night so damn hard when you’re home.”
“Oh, do I get to meet Sam?” Charlie says, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m gonna meet Sam!”
“Clearly, been giving my little brother way too much good press.”
“Of course you’re welcome to join us on your days off,” Cas says, smiling at them. “And you are welcome for movie night at our place whenever you want.”
“Um, excuse you — our place?” Charlie says, slamming her hands down on Dean’s knee again.
“Uh, yeah, we really need to catch up but—- hold that thought, a sec.” Dean says, pulling himself off the bed to hover in Cas’ space by the door for a minute and drop his voice. “You okay? I—- we can catch up later, if you want.”
“More than okay,” Cas says, “Catch up with your friend, Dean. I’m going to investigate the coffee and see if any of my least irritating relatives have arrived.”
“Kay.”
“And she’s right,” Cas says, thumbing along the edge of his shirt, something simmering in the way that he looks at him. “Happy looks very good on you.”
He has got no idea how Cas still manages to knock all coherency out of his head.
“Meet you on the top deck in a bit?” Dean says, once he’s worked out how to control his mouth again.
“Take all the time you want.”
“Thanks, Cas.”
“Have fun,” Cas says, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, before he pulls on his coat and heads out of their stateroom.
When he turns back around, Charlie has half a fist stuffed in her mouth and makes this noise between a squeal and a freaking coo the second Cas shuts the door.
“Holy shit,” Charlie says, “Are you two always that cute?”
“Maybe,” Dean throws back, as Charlie throws an arm around his shoulders again and starts talking.
*
He finds Cas standing at the bow of the ship, folded into the V of the deck with his trench coat wrapped around him, looking out over the sea. It’s a pretty grey day which tracks with every single experience he’s had of England so far, but the ocean stretched out in front of them is still beautiful and Cas looks appropriately haunting and intense, like a character in an artsy movie that Dean would pretend he’d never watched.
Still, he can tell by the slope of Cas’ shoulders that he’s having a bit of a moment, so he opts for wrapping his arms around his back even though it’s some real titanic-shit, and pulling him in close.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No,” Cas says, leaning back into his touch.
“Kay. You gonna talk about it?”
“You’ve taught me a lot about restoration in family relationships,” Cas says, turning in the circle of his arms to look at him, “But the key aspect is effort.”
“Yeah, remember that part,” Dean says.
“They don’t try, Dean. Not really,” Cas says, “This --- a once a year cruise in memoriam to our father is lip service.”
“I dunno,” Dean says, “I mean --- I get it, but. Sometimes just showing up is the thing.”
“Unless you are showing up with an agenda,”
“Huh, so it’s Michael you ran into first.” Dean comments, rubbing his arm, because he cannot quit it, and half-smiling at him. “Guarantee you’ll feel better after Gabe’s given you shit for something and calls Michael out on his posturing.”
“So, five minutes into dinner.”
“Probably,” Dean says.
“We have a mini bar in our room,” Cas says, forehead creasing as he looks at him.
“Yeah,” Dean says, “Clocked it.”
“Do you want me to get someone to deal with it?”
“N’ah,” Dean exhales, looking back out over the sea. He’d noted it the second he walked in, in the same way that you spot an old lover in a crowd but he… he was expecting it. He’d already thought about it. He already did a thorough assessment of his internal bullshit about it before they got off the plane and… it’s okay. “I’m good.”
“Dean,”
“Look, man. We’ve got two weeks floating around on this tin can with your whole freaking family, before two weeks of bumming around the mainland with my kid brother and his girlfriend. Last thing I wanna do is break seven months of hard work with the world’s most overpriced whisky -- that your brother is paying for -- and capsize this whole thing into an awkward, month-long, angst-fest that pissess off every damn person I care about.”
“I don’t think we’d be pissed off.”
“Hurt. Upset. Disappointed. Fill the blank,” Dean says, waving this off, “Hard pass.”
“Dean, logical as that is, it may not come down to logic.”
“Yeah, I…” Dean says, feeling out the corners of his head and sighing. “Feeling good. Things are good. Really don’t think we’re in the danger zone and, honestly, Cas, this place has like sixteen bars. If I decide to freaking go, an empty-mini-bar ain't gonna stop me.”
“You’re uncomfortable about being here.”
“It’s weird,” Dean agrees, “But I’m not --- not uncomfortable. It’s got a lot of memories but it’s all kinda… bittersweet, not bad. Know I was pretty unhappy here, but I learnt a lot. Now I get to sit on the deck with my kick ass boyfriend and drink virgin pina coladas. There’s a beautiful symmetry about it, so don’t get in your head about asking me to come.”
“Yes,” Castiel says, “It’s not at all inappropriate to bring your boyfriend to a place he worked for two and a half years, on vacation, to remind him of the two and a half years of emotional trauma and destructive coping mechanisms because you don’t want to deal with your brothers without a buffer.”
“Cas --- if I couldn’t handle it, I would’ve said no, okay?” Dean says, “You gotta trust me on this.”
“I do trust you.” Cas says, “It just feels growingly unreasonable.”
“Hey, I’m excited,” Dean says, “This is our first actual vacation, which is kind of wild given our relationship, like, spanned half a dozen countries before we did the official thing.”
“I think you could make an argument to count London.”
“You flew out to dump me,” Dean comments, with a flat eyebrow raise, “Doesn’t count. Look, Cas --- I’m confident, right now, that the mini-bar thing ain't gonna be a problem, but I will let you know if I start feeling differently, okay? And if you feel better doin’ something about it, I’m not gonna be offended. Your vacation too. No point you sitting there worrying about me instead of having a good time.”
“I’ll think about it.” Cas says, leaning against Dean’s arm, swaying into his touch, and frowning at him. “I’ve known you for an entire year.”
“I know,” Dean says, because that feels both too-short and too-long at once: on the one hand, nothing in his life is the same as when they first met and all the differences are so stark that it feels like it couldn’t have only been twelve months, but he’s also never done anything this successfully for this long. A relationship. “At some point, we need to figure out which date we’re calling our anniversary.”
“Dublin,” Cas says, without hesitation. “You kissed me. I didn’t know you were interested until then.”
“For the record, that is crazy,” Dean says, “You had me at the most expensive wine you can get.”
“You didn’t say anything.” Cas says, looking fond and lovely, with the sea stretched out behind him. “I am not looking forward to dinner.”
“We’ve got forty minutes,” Dean says, “We can either go to that bar, recreate our little meet cute, or…. you can help me write my first post card to Bobby, or we can finally go shower off that plane.”
“When did you buy a postcard?”
“You were in the bathroom.”
“You’re a very charming man,” Castiel says, reaching forward to kiss him briefly. “I could use a shower.”
*
You have one new voicemail.
Hey Dean, calling from Paris and… the megabus wasn’t that bad. It was really good value, Dean, and we got to spend half the day in London yesterday and sleep on the way here, which is such good time saver and it wasn’t —- okay, you know what, I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s six AM and we just got off the bus and Jess went to the bathroom to try and freshen up and get some coffee, because we’re not allowed to check in to the hostel till two PM and — and no one threw up, but there was — some interesting characters on the coach and we all had to get off it for the ferry in the middle of the night and — yeah, we’re tired. But it was so cheap, Dean, and not all of us have a rich boyfriend to keep us in cruises. Hope you had fun at your fancy dinner. I hope —- well, I hope you’re okay. Know you’d tell me if you weren’t, but… no, no buts. Just keep me updated.
And sorry for bringing it up right before you’re getting on a boat full of bars. That wasn’t fair and I should’ve thought it through, but it just — we ended up talking near enough about it on the plane and it felt weird not to bring it up. Tell Cas hi from me. Oh, and Gabriel. Enjoy your sea day today. We’re gonna go do Paris things.
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester. Please leave your message after the tone.
Hey Sam, hope you’re enjoying the city of looove. You and Jess behave, okay? If I hear of a couple of grad students getting kicked out of their hostel for getting down in their communal room, swept up in the Parisian spirit of seduction and romance, then I’m gonna be disappointed in you, Sammy. Cas loves Paris, so he’s probably pretty jealous. Sea day was good, and we hit La Rochelle today. We did a solo venture, cause Cas is still trying to convince me that French food is the pinnacle of eating, or whatever, so he took me out to seduce me with a fancy ass lunch. He’s lucky I’m easy, but the food was okay. Tomorrow it’s a full family outing in Seville, which should be fun, then I’m trying to talk Cas into skipping dinner-and-the-show with the family to do something less intense, like watch a documentary about war crimes, or something. It’s cool, though. Cas’ family are okay if you’re not related to them. Gabriel’s fun, and his cousin Balthazar is a fucking riot , so it could all be worse. Think I’m growing on them.
Also, my boyfriend ain’t rich. You think I’d touch a dime if this cruise money came from Cas? I know he bitched at you about me pitching a fit about not doing some bullshit pro-rata stuff with the bills after I cut half my hours to study and wind up dirt poor, cause we had a fight about you two ganging up on me, so I know you know that’s not what’s happening here. This is Michael’s money. So keep your damn kept man comments to yourself.
And don’t worry about the timing, Sam. I can handle it. If it starts getting in my head I’ll compartmentalise and think about it when I’m not in a floating bar complex, but for now I’m still mulling it over.
*
You have one new voicemail.
Um, Dean, I don’t actually think they chuck people out of hostels for having sex in communal hostels. If they did, at least three people in our room last night should have been kicked to the curb. So, no, not that romantic. We’re on our way to Switzerland now, though, and we’re doing this glamping thing there and we don’t have to share with anyone, so we might actually get some sleep, which is great news for me because you know what Jess gets like if she’s sleep deprived. She's waiting with our bags right now as I queue up for some food, so she didn’t hear that. Obviously.
Good about Cas’ family. Hope you survive Sevillie . You hit Barcelona next, right? No rush on the Dad stuff. I can hold him off indefinitely, if you want. Or tell him it’s not gonna happen. Oh —- and I’m sending you a picture of the worst postcard I found for Bobby. Operation spam is going well. We sent him three from Paris, but Jess had this idea that we write one whole message across all four, lay them all out length ways, and then send them from different post boxes. Oh, and she wrote it in a bad google translation of hebrew. He’s going to hate it.
Okay, glad you’re doing well. I’m --- obviously, having a really good time with Jess, but I’m really glad that we get to catch up with you guys in a couple of weeks, too. On the plane I realised how long it had been since we’d had a proper catch up. I mean, I guess we’re all busy but, yeah --- I’m just really pleased that I get to spend half of my summer with my big brother.
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester.
At least three? A little ménage à trois, huh? Sounds like you’re having fun. Us, too. Cas told me to tell you that the answer to your question is twenty eight hours, but he won’t tell me what the hell he’s on about, which probably means you two are clubbing together to mock me. So —- tell Jess that the answer is ‘about twenty minutes longer than you’d expect’ and see what she says.
Yeah. Hold off on holding him off permanently. I’m … think I’m still pretty thrown by the idea that he even wants to have a conversation, but… think I’m gonna go for it, at some point. I —— talking some of this stuff out with you was good and if… if Dad’s in the kind of place where you don’t wanna punch him in the face then maybe we could talk. I don’t know. It’s --- obviously, in a much better place with all this Dad stuff, generally. I mean, we talked about it and it didn’t make me wanna leave the damn continent and I… I get that it was good, you know, to go over some of that stuff that happened when we were kids and hash it all out, but then I also remember exactly how that last conversation went. How our relationship used to be. And I don’t have time for that kind of crap in my life, you know? There’s already a lot of stuff changing. I mean --- me and Cas haven’t actually done the living together bit yet. I moved my crap in and then we came right out here and, you know, if we can survive a boat then we can probably survive Cas’ place and I… I mean, I’ve basically lived there for a while, anyway, and then next month I start school so…. So yeah, I think that I’m probably at least gonna try and have a conversation with the guy, but I don’t know that now is a good moment.
Anyway, yeah. Barcelona over here. Cas has already gotten all tanned and gorgeous and has actually relaxed, now, which is great, because the guy’s needed a damn break for ages. Charlie’s joining us tomorrow which should be awesome and…. Right --- Cas is out the shower, which means its fancy meal time. Michael is Michael, so he keeps ordering these pretentious ass bottles of wine that aren’t included with the drinks package to remind us all that he’s loaded, and Cas says I’ve gotta stop smiling at the waiters and telling them I’m an alcoholic whenever they offer me some, because it is, I quote, ‘not actually funny’, so I’ve gotta find a new strategy of amusing myself. Maybe something dirty under the table. I’m kidding, Cas. Allright, Sam, love you kiddo and -- - miss you, too, all that stuff you said about getting some good time to hang out. Same. That.
*
You have one new voicemail.
Yeah, you definitely have a lot going on right now. Although, with the Cas stuff, I mean… Dean, you guys have basically lived together for the last six months. I mean, maybe when you first moved in with Ash you made like a token attempt at not spending seven nights a week with Cas, but it’s -- - you’re probably not gonna notice the difference that much. And you are really, really ready for studying. I think it’s going to be great, actually, and I’m --- yeah, yeah, no chick flick moments, but I am really damn proud of you Dean. You’re doing great. That’s not pressure, though, I mean…. Honestly, Dean, I know… I know I made my decision about Dad, but it’s different. For you. I know… I know you took a lot of the brunt of all that stuff just because you were older and because you’re you, and you’re hardwired to care about people and try and protect me, but I …
I found trying to understand where Dad was coming from, what was going on in his head, helped me to process all of it. To find some peace with it. But… that’s me, Dean, and it doesn’t have to be you. If you’re doing it because it’s something to do with making me happy, then forget about it. It’s not like I’m about to go running to spend Christmas with the guy, I just… I’m just telling you about this because he asked me too and I think you’re smart enough and know what’s good for you well enough to make your own decision.
We’re in Italy now. Milan. Jess’ choice, but it’s pretty sweet.
And yes, Dean, joking about being an alcoholic is always a real crowd pleaser. You just like making other people feel awkward. Oh and Jess says , in response to your twenty minute thing, ‘didn’t actually need that much information about your sex life’ because she thinks she’s funny and she also likes making other people awkward. Sometimes you too are scarily similar. Speak soon, Dean.
*
For some reason, today everything is clawing at the inside of his head, vicious and unyielding, and he feels like shit. He gets through the big family outing to Florence without screaming at any of Cas’ relations to shut the hell up, but by the time they get back to their stateroom Dean’s burnt through all his reserves.
He wishes he’d had the piece of mind to pack some fucking cigarettes, because he really feels like he needs to do something with his bullshit emotions and smoking is the lesser of a multitude of evils, and it’s supposed to be his back-up, but he was riding on this glorious high of just having moved in with Castiel and finally getting some time off work and he figured that would be enough to sail him through two weeks of heavy exposure to aclohol fucking everywhere, but ---
Right now, he feels a lot like he shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t be accepting half-free vaccations from some guy that Dean’s met all of three times (and heard about plenty) and he shouldn’t be spending money on the other half of this vaccation, right before he cuts his damn hours to study, with this dumb notion that maybe one day Dean will get something better. It’s fucking illogical to be burning through his bank balance just because he really wanted to spend some quality time with Cas and Sam and Jess and it was stupid to burrow himself into their stateroom bed, alone, to throw himself a pity party when everyone in Dean’s life has been more than generous in accepting Dean’s crap. He’d seen Castiel’s ‘concerned expression’ when Dean had insisted that he wanted to ‘skip dinner’, alone, because he wasn’t hungry and he knows that Sam would freak out if he knew the stuff going on in Dean’s head and they’re all trusting him and they’re all proud of him but, really, all he wants right now is a fucking drink.
He’s not going to do it --- he’s absolutly fucking not going to --- but god he wants.
He wants.
He’s just about to get up and go buy some fucking cigarettes, when Cas opens the door with his hip with a tray with burger-and-fries in one hand and some psychadellic rainbow drink in the other.
“Hello, Dean.”
“Hey,” Dean exhales, unclenching the fists he’d balled up against his stomach and sitting up properly. “Heh. Food.”
“Bacon cheeseburger,” Cas says, sitting on the edge of the bed and passing him the tray. “And this is the mocktail of the day.”
“Looks like it was made by a gay drug user.” Dean says, wedging the plastic cup between his knees and assessing it. He takes an experimental sip as Cas sits next to him. “Wow, that’s a lot of sugar.”
“I don’t think you can make anything that green without sugar.”
“How was dinner?” Dean asks, taking a french fry and not looking at him dead in the eye, because it’ll just make his stomach twist up with guilt and shame and bullshit.
“Hmm,” Cas hums, helping himself to one of his fries, “Everything is less pleasant without you,” Cas says, completely seriously, which does something complicated and painful to Dean’s lungs. “But my sea bass was delicious. Can I help?”
“Probably not,” Dean says, taking another sip of his drink. The red layer is thick with grenadine; sweet and thick. “ I didn’t --- didn’t do anything stupid.”
“I know that,” Cas says, forehead creasing slightly. Cas has always had too much faith in him, but they have talked enough about the gritty truth of all of this that he isn’t just trusting him blind. They’ve sat there and talked about exactly what it would probably look like if Dean went down the rabbit hole because Dean probably would lie about it, hide it, try to justify himself in the dark places in his head before he let anyone anywhere near this. Sometimes it scares the shit out of him that Cas might trust him forever, but the guy’s not stupid. He knows Dean. Knows him well enough to guess how Dean’s been feeling all day, even though he didn’t actually say anything. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day.”
“Thanks for the food,” Dean says, unwrapping his cheeseburger and staring down at it. He doesn’t really feel like eating, because it feels like his stomach has turned into concrete: cold and harsh and uncompromising and not really like a person. The self-care thing is pretty much the only antidote to any of this, though, so he takes a deliberate, slow bite of burger and chews.
“Can I put the TV on?”
Dean hmms his ascent through another bite of burger, as Cas settles next to him on their bed and flicks through the channels, landing on some weird-ass quiz show based around an arcade game. It’s transfixing enough to distract him through the burger and another layer of his rainbow drink, which was probably Cas’ intention.
“Is it totally fucking stupid to be in freaking Europe, when I should be cramming in some extra shifts before I start school?” Dean asks.
“There’s more than one way to prepare to study, Dean,” Cas says, “You needed a real break.”
“Hmm,” Dean says, taking another sip of his drink and grimacing and… yeah, there is some logic in that. Cas’ been gunning towards a research deadline and spent a lot of time at work, and Sam had exams, and Dean’s genuinely terrified of doing something as fucking crazy as earning less money to study, so he’s been working stupid hours and not really been giving himself enough time to think. He just moved in with Cas, which is crazy and wonderful and amazing, and Sam’s started talking to him about John Winchester, so it’s…. He does need some time to sit on a beach and read a book and eat food he hasn’t cooked and kiss his boyfriend on the deck of a boat. If he’s gonna actually make it work, then coming into it not already feeling frazzled and stressed is the smart thing to do. He went wrong with school the first time by having too many other things going on, but it still feels selfish and self-indulgent and like he doesn’t deserve for anything to be easy and good, at least right now. “This purple layer is not the one.”
“You don’t have to drink it,” Cas says. “It’s more of a gesture of solidarity. I assumed you’d prefer that to talking about it, although both are options.”
Castiel is basically perfect.
“Can you, uh.” Dean begins, setting his drink down on the bedside table and grimacing at his knees for a moment. He knows that this feeling goes away. Alcohol usually feels like the quickest solution to the problem, even if that’s actually a damn lie because it makes everything so much worse, long term, and cigarettes are fine, but mostly he just needs to wait until he’s feeling a little more alive to wrestle with the root of the thing. He doesn’t have the energy to work out why it’s illogical and where it came from at this exact second, he just knows that it sucks and he feels like shit.
“Whatever you need, Dean.” Cas says, with that perfect blue eyed squint. He’s serious about it, too. He’s probably too serious about it, but that’s why they’ve talked it out on the better days so Dean doesn’t exactly capsize them on the worst.
“Distract me.”
“Allright,” Cas says, pushing himself off the back of the headboard and standing up, stretching, slowly shedding his jacket and hanging it up like he’s got all the time in the goddamn world. Dean watches as Castiel unbuttons his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves. He’s particularly gorgeous right now, all tanned and actually relaxed after a week of sun and bumming around, and Dean doesn’t really know how to look away as Cas walks back towards him, and he thinks he could do this alone, but he’s really damn glad that Cas is here anyway.
As it turns out, accepting love from Cas gets a lot easier with practice. It’s not perfect, because Cas is too good to be downgraded to distraction, really, but he loves Dean and he wants to help, and it’s easier to feel like a real person, safe and secure, when Cas leans forward and kisses him with purpose and simmering heat, and Dean can think about being held and looked after, instead of dwelling on any of this floating guilt.
They don’t get very far before someone knocks on the damn door.
Dean mutters exactly how he feels about that into Cas’ neck, and hooks him closer with his knees to stop him from moving away, because it kind of feels like the rest of the world is on the other side of that door, and it’s fucking scary out there, and people expect things of him that aren’t to just be Dean. Cas doesn't actually seem inclined to move, anyway, and focuses on pressing their foreheads together and frowning at him in that way that means he’s not actually unhappy, he’s just thinking intensely about something.
“Cassie,” Gabriel calls from the other side of the door. Cas makes a dissatisfied noise at the back of his throat and shuts his eyes. “We need keys, buddy. So I’m gonna need you two lovebirds to wrap it up, or stop wrapping it up, and come out here.”
Cas drawns in a pointed, deliberate breath and sits up.
“Balthazar’s this close to telling someone they’re concerned about your welfare and getting permission to burst in there.”
“Asshats,” Cas mutters, detangling himself and standing up. “What?” Cas demands, cracking open the door with his shirt half undone, radiating frustration and irritation. It’s the same brand of aggravation he carried the first time they met, a whole freaking year ago, while he was pointedly buying expensive wine and captivating Dean with his ridiculous passive aggression and those eyes.
“Room keys, kiddo.”
“Haven’t you all drunk enough?”
“Firstly,” Gabriel says, “There is not enough alcohol in the world to deal with the stick up Michael’s butt, but —- We didn’t technically pay for the wine, and they’re not letting anyone else leave the restaurant till they’ve seen our stateroom keys so….”
“You’re here.”
“That’s because I know how to turn on the charm with the staff. A trait we have in common, apparently.”
“You’re all infuriating.”
“Maybe,” Gabriel says, cheerfully, “But you’re the one organising the great key robbery.”
“Fine,” Cas says, shutting the door in Gabriel’s face and stalking his jacket, digging through the pocket to pull out a number of room keys. “Here, now go away.” Cas says, before they have some muted, quiet conversation that Dean can’t hear over the hum of the TV, that he’s pretty sure is about Dean and probably about alcohol, but he doesn’t really want to hear it right now, anyway.
“You stole all their room keys?” Dean asks, as Cas turns away from the door with a deep crease of something in his forehead.
“They were irritating me.”
“How?” Dean asks, which wins him a flat deadpan. “I mean, how did you steal six room keys. Can figure the irritating part out, obviously.”
“Michael and Lucifer were arguing about varieties of sea salt. I saw my opportunity.”
“And they’re just been —- sat at the restaurant?”
“Apparently,” Cas says, almost smiling, “I thought they’d just be locked out of their rooms and unable to drink.”
“I fucking love you,” Dean smiles, pulling him back in and kissing the corner of his mouth, affection welling up in his chest. This man. This perfect dorky little weirdo. “You are freaking awesome.” Dean says, pulling him in for a proper kiss again, cradling his face and smiling. He doesn’t feel it all the way through his chest, but it’s broken through something, and he’ll take that.
“Thank you,” Cas says, “I kept Michael’s. It’s in my other pocket.”
Dean presses their foreheads together.
“Freaking genius,” Dean says, smiles, till it dies on his face and the rest of it presses in. “Not that I don’t appreciate you venting your feelings by stealing room key, but —- I am gonna be okay.”
“I know,” Castiel says, vehement, “They could stand to be more considerate.”
“They’re on vacation,” Dean says, “They’re allowed to drink.”
“Incessantly.”
“That hasn’t been bothering me, honestly.”
“It’s bothering me.” Cas says. “In the morning, I’m going to ask them to deal with the mini bar. For my sake. I know you’re fine, Dean, I just want to feel like I can control something. Please don’t take it personally.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, then I’m down.” Dean says, reaching out and running a thumb over the crook of Cas’ arm and offering him another, weaker attempt at a smile. He honestly doesn’t actually care. It’s a little more complicated when it comes to Sam --- because isn’t everything -- but, generally, he’s learnt not to take something that could look like a lack of trust as a character insult. Sometimes it’s just common freaking sense, because Dean is a freaking alcoholic and that’s not actually going to change, probably ever, and given Cas can’t read every single thought in Dean’s head, it’s not a surprise that sometimes Cas is going to worry. He’d rather Cas always felt like he could put in extra barriers without it being some emotive, complicated issue that turns into a fight, because one day Cas might be more switched-on to how Dean’s doing than Dean is, and he might not say something for fear of starting an argument. He doesn’t want that. He wants to always stay as far away from falling off the wagon as possible.
Ideally, it would never impact his life, ever, but that’s not going to happen, so he’ll settle for minimising the damage.
“It will,” Cas says, shutting his eyes. “I’m looking forward to the part of the trip where I don’t have to speak to Balthazar anymore.”
“Huh. Balthazar’s one of my favourites.”
“I’m supposed to be distracting you.”
“You did,” Dean says, tugging Cas further onto the bed and relocating the remote to crank up the volume slightly, “Come on, wanna see if this guy knows any of the American presidents.”
“Can I hold you while we watch?”
“Practically mandated,” Dean says, kicking the covers off his legs to twist into Cas’ side and settle there, and it’s not exactly a perfect evening and he still spends a lot of it thinking about how much he wants just one freaking whiskey, but it could certainly all be a lot goddamn worse.
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester. Please leave a message after the tone.
Hey, Sammy. Just —- just to let you know that I had a pretty bad day yesterday. I’m fine. Spend a lot of the evening in our room hanging out with Cas and he was great, obviously, and this morning when we got hooked up to the WiFi at the port I called Garth and we talked some of it out. So… I’m good. Still doing the right things, still fighting the good fight excetera excetera. Still hard to accept having good things, sometimes. With Cas. Starting school. College. Getting there, slowly.
Sooo… we’re gonna take it easy today. Original plan was heading to Pompeii but I am beat, and we’ve all been before, anyway, so me, Charlie and Cas are having a beach day in Salerno, which is pretty freaking gorgeous, actually. One of my favourite patches of sand. I’m gonna go radio silent on the Dad issue for a few days till I’ve got my head together, but I am okay, and we’re both looking forward to stage two of the vacation. Send Jess my love, too. Maybe I’ll catch you live at some point today. Not that I, like, need need to talk to you, it’s not like that, but —- if it happens that would be cool. All right, speak soon.
* It’s kind of crazy that he spent most of his misery in some of the most gorgeous places without ever really looking at them.
The Amalfi coast is this beautiful kaleidoscope of blue sea, bright white buildings and red roofs and Dean freaking love it and he can’t really work out how he was quite so unhappy facing down somewhere so beautiful. He does know, obviously, because his unhappiness was threaded under his skin with lies and self-worth-issue and a whole lot of internalised-crap that was never rooted in who he actually is, but it feels kinda far away right now. He doesn’t feel amazing, because he still needs to properly talk to Cas about yesterday and he’s fallen into that post-funk frustration where he’s annoyed at himself for letting it take over his head, but it’s still hard to work up any real guilt or shame when the sun is shining and the sea is the perfect temperature for cooling off in, when the only thing he’s really got to do all day is be.
“Hey Dean,” Charlie says, nudging him with her knee, “Sorry you’re having a bad day.”
“It’s… okay,” Dean says, looking away from the sea to take her in, “I mean, this version of a bad day is like… a helluva lot better than my good days used to be. I can handle it.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Charlie says, “I mean, I kind of hoped that one day something would click in my head and I’d be cool with all of it. With what happened with my Mom. There was a click moment, but it was like --- it was like me deciding that I didn’t want to feel like this forever, rather than actually stopping feeling like that.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, assessing her on the sun lounger next to him, “That’s the moment. And it … it does all get better. It is.”
“Just not all the way all the time.”
“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “Really glad you’re gonna be in freaking California, but I … if anyone gets the whole putting down roots thing being scary as hell, it’s me. So. You just let me know if I can help.”
“Try and stop me,” Charlie says, “Is it… the bad day stuff about things with your Dad?”
“Not exactly,” Dean says, “I mean, that’s probably part of it, but it’s more --- everything all at once. But I uh… did wanna talk to you about that, now that you have the low down.”
“About your Dad?” Charlie asks, raising an eyebrow, “Not really an expert on parents, ‘cause I haven’t really had any for a while, but talk away, Winchester.”
Dean runs his tongue over his lip and looks back out over the sea.
“I wasn’t... wasn’t really out before I got on the ship,” Dean says, “And I mean… I came out to Sam via freaking voicemail and then Sam just played that for Bobby, cause Bobby needed to hear that I was alive, and they were both cool, so I skipped that whole thing.”
“And you don’t think your Dad will be cool?”
“Don’t even know if I wanna talk to him anyway,” Dean says, squinting at the sun. He feels mellow about it today, mostly. Like all his emotions are regrouping after waging war against his head yesterday. “He —- well. Technically, he walked in on me and some guy in a position that left very little ambiguity, but we’ve never actually had a conversation about it.”
“Awkward.” Charlie says, “Did he say anything?”
“No,” Dean says, “He took off for a week the next day, but he did that, so I… uh, I assumed the two were related, but I never got any actual confirmation and... maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. And. Haven’t spoken to the guy for three years so… not gonna pretend that I don’t care about his opinion, cause that stuff eats me up, but I ---- I can live without John Winchester.”
“Doing a mighty-fine job of it, actually.” Charlie says.
“And… it took me a while to get my head around Sam and Dad being in contact,” Dean says, “And I --- I know where I stand, but I don’t wanna fuck things up with Sammy.”
“You mean, if your Dad is a homophobic douchebag.”
“Right,” Dean says, “Cause that’s no deal from my perspective. See you the fuck later, but, uh...”
“I don’t think your brother is going to not care if your Dad is a dick.”
“He’s on a real forgiveness kick,” Dean says, “I --- I mean, it’s good for him, Charlie. Him, talking to Dad, I … it’s helped him process crap I didn’t even know he needed to process, because Sam’s felt all of it, heavy, and I… I was too busy being suffocated by it myself to consider his point of view, but now we’re both… functioning adults. Happy. And … doesn’t always make sense to me, and on bad days I don’t even like it, but I… don’t wanna mess up Sam’s relationship with him. It’s his choice.”
“Yeah, it is,” Charlie says.
“Doesn’t meant I won’t be pissed if Dad turns out to be some… homophobic douchebag and Sam is okay with that. Is that unreasonable?”
“No,” Charlie says, “But… I mean, honestly, I don’t think Sam would be okay with it. From everything you’ve said about your brother, he is way fiercely overprotective about you and everything about you.”
“It --- as far as I can work out, this hasn’t even occured to him.”
“Straight people are wild,” Charlie says, “But… okay, say hypothetically, your Dad can’t accept Cas and Sam is ‘okay with it’, it really depends on what that means. I don’t know if it’s reasonable for you to expect Sam to never talk to your father again, but I think it’s totally reasonable for you to expect Sam to never put you in a position where you have to deal with him, with it. It’s all… it’s complicated, but … whatever it looks like, I am sure that you and Sam will find a way to be friends and brothers. You have worked way too hard at it to give it up.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, “Yeah. Stuff that messes with our relationship still scares me, but I know we’re solid.”
That part is wild, really. Learning that he’d never actually felt safe in any of interpersonal relationships, ever, was the exact opposite of fun, but rebuilding and reshaping and reassessing was good, and now there’s a lot of relationships he feels genuinely secure in. The Sam one is more complicated than, say, Bobby, or Cas, Charlie, Benny, but they’ve also worked at it. A lot. Logically, he knows Sam isn’t going to stop caring or trying.
Still.
“Going on a double-date backpacking trip around Europe solid.”
“Just done with freaking drama,” Dean says, twisting on his sun lounger to make himself more comfortable, spotting Cas walking back from the toilets. “Not that there isn’t an upside to this one.”
“Oh, I bet.” Charlie says, looking at Cas approach over her sunglasses. “I like him.”
“What’s not to like?” Dean asks, as Cas sits down on the edge of Dean’s sunlounger and presents him with two plastic cups.
“I can offer you a coke, or a virgin sex on the beach.”
“What a way to lose it,” Dean says, taking the coke.
“Too much sand for my tastes.”
“Good to know.” Dean says, folding a hand over Cas’ knee and smiling at him, feeling warm and full of affection and love. He used to be fucking terrified of that last part. He thought it would always hurt. He didn’t know things could be like this.
“I’m gonna go for a swim,” Charlie says, standing up, “But you’re defo right about the upside.”
“Hm?” Cas asks, forehead creasing as he looks at him.
“Just talking about you,” Dean says, nudging him with his arm.
“That’s disconcerting,” Cas says, sipping his virgin sex on the beach, then stretching out on his lounger next to him, folding his arms under his head.
“Good things,” Dean says, “You having a good day?”
He doesn’t look at the bright turquoise sea, or at the sun blazing in the sky, or at the sand. Cas just looks directly at him, smiles, and says ‘Yes.’
*
You have one new voicemail.
Hey Dean, sorry you’re having a crappy day. Beach day with Charlie and Cas sounds pretty good, though. Let me know if I can do anything to help.
We’re in Venice, right now. Well, we’re staying a train ride away from Venice, because it turns out Venice is like … crazy expensive. Probably because it’s fascinating: historically, as a feet of engineering and it’s beautiful and we think we’re gonna stay here another couple of days, because Venice is also as confusing as hell, and we kept getting lost. So I guess we’re both actually in Italy right now, so have a pizza on me, Dean. Remember we love you.
*
“—- and they have a crew bar,” Dean says, as Greece falls away behind them and Balthazar sits opposite him, apparently fascinated.
“A crew bar. And you never took our Castiel?”
“Firstly, that’s like beyond asking to get fired. Pretty sure they’d’ve been happier with this situ than me taking Cas into crew quarters, plus it’s like —- a kitchen counter with alcohol, basically in the basement. There’s a reason most of that staff would rather drink in the guest bars —- not exactly a prime date spot.”
“So —- no one goes?”
“Didn't say that,” Dean says, “It’s dirt cheap and opens a helluva lot later than anywhere else, and this ain’t exactly a dry workplace. Hey, Cas.”
“Hello Dean,” Cas says, looking all gorgeous and tanned, holding a freakishly large drink out to him. “This is a milkshake that’s supposed to taste like an apple pie.”
“Oh, sweet,” Dean says, eyeing it up.
“That sounds disgusting.” Balthazar comments.
“Hell yeah,” Dean agrees, as Cas takes his seat next to him, “Wouldn’t’ve thought that would be covered in our crap-package.” Dean says, because they’re both on the no-alcohol basic package as a matter of common sense.
“It isn’t,” Cas says, “I used Gabriel’s. That’s why Gabriel only has a coke.”
“Screw that, I want one of those.”
“At least give it five minutes,” Cas says, looking bemused. “How is it?”
Dean tries it with enough enthusiasm to wind up with a cream-moustache, mostly on purpose, because it gets that affectionate pooling at the corner of Cas’ mouth: he likes it when Dean acts like an overgrown kid because it’s ‘endearing’ and Dean’s not above playing to it to make him smile, plus it has Cas reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.
The milkshake is both simultaneously delicious and disgusting.
“Awesome,” Dean declares, leaning forward to kiss him before Cas starts on his beer (and Cas is back to feeling secure, again, if he’s back to having the odd drink in front of him), then settles back into the sofa they commandeered for take-off with his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder, his disgusting milkshake and Cas’ family quizzing him about the dark side of cruise ships, and it all feels pretty fucking good.
(And that night they check-in about the whole alcohol conversation, and John Winchester and it’s fine and it’s almost easy, at this point).
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester. Please leave a message after the tone.
Hey Sammy, feeling good today. Hit up Chania, which is a gorgeous old Venetian port, and me and Cas ditched the brothers half way through the day and sat at this restaurant eating freaking gorgeous Greek food, and we talked more about Dad. Felt like a good time to talk about it because I hadn’t gotten into it in detail with him — obviously he knows what you said and what we’ve been talking about — but we hadn’t really chewed it over, cause I hadn’t decided what I was gonna do, and I didn’t want anyone to decide for me and Cas is —- you know, perfect, and considerate as hell and basically the best guy ever, but he also had this pretty complicated relationship with his Dad, and I didn’t want it bleeding all over our relationship. But, I decided I am gonna call him, so we talked it out, checked he was cool with it.
I’m…. Feeling good about it. Pretty confident I can handle it, and if I can’t then I can hang the hell up and get myself out of there, and I can… I think, this last year, I’ve learned a lot about communicating how I feel and working out what I need and what to do when someone can’t give me what I need, and how to deal with that. So I think I can handle Dad.
But… I don’t know how he’s gonna feel, about Cas. And that’s not something I’m gonna compromise on. I don’t care if the guys turned into mother freaking Teresa — if he can’t handle the fact that I have a serious life partner with a dick, then I don’t wanna talk out jack shit. So I’m not gonna go in cautious. I wanna know before I get invested in this. And uh… I don’t know, if you’ve thought about that possibility, or not. But, uh. I don’t know. I guess I wanna know where you stand on the issue, cause I’m really not interested in making crap complicated with us. You’re my best friend, Sammy, and I’m… well, pretty sure Dad undermining my damn life would make me feel pretty conflicted about you two being best buds. And I’m not saying that should dictate what you do and don’t do it if that’s even my place to feel, guess I just wanna be prepared.
Hope you had a good time in Venice. Looks like you did, from that picture you sent. Oh, and Bobby text me to say he’s run out of room on the damn fridge, so mission postcard is going well.
*
You have one new voicemail.
Hey Dean, glad you’re enjoying Greece. Looking forward to meeting you in Athens in a couple of days and, uh… yeah, I… I thought about the Dad thing. I would have asked him outright a long time ago, but you said you didn’t want him to know anything about what was going on in your life and I figured that he might… do some of the math, if I tried asking. Dean, I’m not… I am not ignorant to his faults and us… having a relationship is entirely contingent on him not being like he was. I mean, him not barking contextless orders to try and have control over his life and… I don’t want someone in my life who treats you like crap. Treats me like crap. And anyone who meets Cas is crazy if they think he’s not really good for you, and… basically, I guess I’m saying that Dad’s feelings about you exactly impact how I feel about him. I mean, if it’s just plain ignorance, I could —- I think I’d probably try and talk to him, but I’m not sticking around for homophobia. So that’s where I stand, Dean, and if you wanted me to… to feel that out, I can do it for you. If you think it’s likely, I don’t see that you should have to deal with that crap.
Sent Bobby another postcard today, so should be filling up his kitchen nicely. Send Cas my love.
*
You have reached the voicemail of Sam Winchester. Please leave a message after the tone.
Rodger sending Cas your love. Pretty sure he’s more excited to see you in a couple of days than I am, cause we disembark from the ship tomorrow and Cas has been telling me about all these places of ancient historical significance yada yada nerdy nerdy, and I’m just trying to pick out what kind of filo pastry covered deep fried cheese I wanna eat. We’re gonna go have the big final night tonight, raise a glass to his Dad, then pack up for tomorrow. He’s doing good. Cas. Says it’s the best anniversary of his dad’s death he’s had, which is good and… it’s just nice, to be there. Would’ve fucking hated it if he was out here alone, bunking with Gabriel tonight, rather than him having some back up.
And, uh. I appreciate it, about Dad. Really proud of us actually, Sammy. There’d have been a point where I wouldn’t have known how the hell to talk to you about any of this crap, and I’m glad we’re not there anymore. It’s been a helluva a year. Don’t worry about calling Dad to do some kind of homophobe test, though. I can handle it. Text me his number and I’m gonna call him. Not tonight, obviously, but… at some point. Soon.
*
“That was a very good vacation,” Cas says, looking back at the boat from the port. In a lot of ways, its a relief to be putting some distance between that damn ship and the rest of his life, but it was nice, too. Good to see Charlie. Good to continue to heal.
He’s glad they carved out two whole days of time in Athens, just the two of them, before they meet up with Sam and Jess. He’s glad he negotiated his internal bullshit into allowing him to have some time off. He’s glad he’s here, period, rather than literally anywhere else.
“Never really been on a straight up vacation before,” Dean says, taking another long look at the boat and trying to work out exactly how he feels about it now, after everything.
“The good news is that my brothers do this ever year,” Cas says, turning away and beginning to walk towards the port, “Always something to look forward to.”
He’s as dry and deadpan as ever, but there’s something about casually being included in ‘next year’ that makes Dean’s soul clench with some confused-joy. He’s never really had a ‘next year’ kind of plan. He barely knows what he’s doing right now , except that it’s moving forwards, towards something, fully intending to enjoy the journey.
It’s pretty great, though, so, he turns away from the sea and follows Cas to dry land.
*
You have reached the voicemail of John Winchester. Please leave a message after the tone.
Hey Dad, it’s… it’s Dean. Sam gave me your number. I’m, uh, I’m calling from Athens, my second day here, and it’s freaking’ boiling and… been thinking about calling you for a couple of weeks. Know you and Sam have been talking for a while now and he said that it’s been good, that it seems like you’re doing well and, uh, he said it’s been helping. With his little quest to understand our childhood. And he thought, thinks, that maybe it would be good for me, too. I don’t know about that but… I’ve been thinking about it and I decided --- yeah, that I’d give you a call.
So. I’m good. I’m… not with Sam, right now, even though we’re both in Europe. We’re meeting up tomorrow and going off-coast, cause I’ve just got off a cruise ship with my boyfriend, which will be news to you, ‘cause I’ve been policing the crap Sam can say to you about me while I work it out. So that’s a thing. Me and Cas. And ---well, if you’re not cool with that, then you can just stop listening now, cause that’s not negotiable. Not changing. And I don’t mean that don’t ask, don’t tell crap. I mean, if you can’t be cool with asking about Cas every time you’d ask about Jess without judgement, without thinking whatever dumbass things homophobic asshats think about this stuff , then I am fine with keeping on living without you. But, uh, that’s that. Other than that, I’m... workin’ at a restaurant, just moved in with Cas, going to college after the summer to work out what I wanna do with my life cause I never really thought about that till about a year ago and… uh, Sam said you’re sober, now. That’s most of the reason why I even thought about calling you. So --- me too. That’s relatively new, for me. Sam said you’re in front by six months or something so that’s ---I’m glad. That you’ve dried out. Everything else aside… I am glad about that.
Sam said you started asking about me. That you wanted to talk. I’ve been holding him off, telling him to skip the details because… Honestly, I don’t really know how I feel about you right now, Dad. Don’t know what kind of anything I want with you. From you. Think that really depends on how you feel about everything that went down. Been doing a lot of thinking over this last year, about everything that went wrong with us. This family. Spent a long time wanting to pin everything on you, ‘cause it made it a lot simpler to deal with, especially when you weren’t around, but I… for me, getting sober has been a lot about facing up to the crap in my head. Unwinding all the lies I’ve been telling myself. And I know that it was complicated, after Mom. And I know that you tried. And I know that you probably didn’t mean to hurt me. Also know that you --- you really let me down, Dad. Repeatedly. And you made me feel like I… like I wasn’t enough, as is, and I think --- I think you were probably projecting and I think you were probably in a lot of pain, but a lot of the time I don’t feel a lot like giving you the benefit of the doubt and I --- if you wanna do this reconnecting thing, it’s gonna take me some time to forgive you, or absolve you of guilt. I know I fucked up my own life plenty, but I learnt some of that from you first.
Didn’t call you to give you a damn guilt trip. I’m --- I’m just sayin’ that… I don’t know if you’re in a place right now to face up to the consequences of your decisions and your actions. I don’t want us dragging this up to drag you back down. For me, this stuff gets to me. Makes me wanna drown myself in whisky. I’m feeling pretty strong in all of it, though. Got a lot of good support around me, but… I don’t know if you have that, Dad, so… I’m willing to talk about it. Slowly, probably. Learned the hard way with Sammy that this stuff tends to be a little bumpy. But if you’re not …. If you’re not solid enough to get into the ring with our collective emotional bullcrap, right now, then I’m not gonna take it personally if you don’t call me, but that also means I’m not ready to talk to you yet. Cause if we do this… it’s gotta be different, Dad. You’ve got to talk to me with some respect and we have to actually talk about what went down, because I am a hundred percent not gonna let you, let anyone, make me feel like that anymore. I’m not a kid. I’m not lookin’ to you to fix my life, anymore. I’m not looking at you to tell me what to do, or even suggesting what I freakin’ do, I don’t want your opinions about my life choices. If you --- if you really want to talk and you think you can handle it, then I’m game. I’m not gonna censor how this crap impacted me, or how I feel about you at any given moment, because I think it’s the only way to move forward. If that’s what you even want. For all I know you tuned out at the bisexual part. Find it hard to imagine you wanting to talk all this out, but Sam… Sam seemed to think it was on the table.
So --- that’s it. Do me a favour, if you do wanna do this, just not right now, just send me a text saying something to that effect. If Sam’s got it wrong and you don’t wanna do the reconnect thing, or if you can’t deal with Cas, then… I don’t want some bullshit explanation or justification, ‘cause I don’t need it, and I don’t want it. You can keep this number, though, if you change your mind later. Except if your issue is with the bisexual thing, then you can go screw yourself.
Otherwise, you wanna talk this out, call me. If I don’t answer, just --- leave a voicemail. I’ll get back to you.