Chapter Text
And Walk Yourself to the Laundromat
Castiel let out an annoyed sigh as he pulled the laundry out of the dryer. He had yet to grapple the intricacies of such a mundane task, but it had not impacted his everyday life. Until today.
The Winchesters had found an old washer and dryer set on the side of the road a few months back, which had made all of their lives easier, considering the laundry of a dozen people was cumbersome in a laundromat. Not to mention expensive, and while Castiel wouldn’t have minded utilizing his powers to aid in that piece, Dean had been insistent.
There were so many facets of humanity Castiel had yet to grasp. Whether it was the difference between the Stooges characters (much to Dean’s chagrin), to what sort of water temperature would be required to prevent clothing shrinkage. A problem I do not have to deal with in a laundromat, he thought bitterly. As he held up his much too small trench coat, Castiel let out another sigh.
“Cas?” Jack asked as he stepped into the makeshift laundry room, which was simply a converted utilities room.
“Hello, Jack.”
Jack sidled up next to him. “What’s the matter?”
Castiel held up the laughably small coat. “My intention to preserve my energy, my ‘mojo’ as Dean calls it, has failed.”
Jack’s expression was indicative of the amount of time he had spent with the Winchesters, lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to stop himself from laughing outright. Castiel might have felt annoyed had there not been a wave of fondness muting that confounded emotion. “Are you able to fix it?”
Even if he had enough energy stored away to undo the damage, it wasn’t something he could justify. On the off chance his powers were needed for a much more dire, pressing need. Castiel shook his head. “I don’t see the need.” Coat still held up, he eyed the item of clothing and held it up against Jack’s frame. “It might fit you.”
The way Jack’s eyes lit up brought him such joy, Castiel couldn’t help but think perhaps his inability to properly use a washing machine might have been a good thing.
Jack gently grasped the coat and slid it over his shoulders. It fit him perfectly. “You don’t mind?”
Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “It’s yours.”
Like a child in a superhero cape, Jack ran off, almost colliding with Dean as he left the laundry room. Dean had sidestepped with his hands raised as his eyebrows shot up, a mumbled apology from Jack before the nephilim disappeared into the bunker.
Dean chuckled and looked at Cas. “He looks even more like you in that thing. When did the kid get a trench coat?”
Castiel smiled, weirdly touched by the inadvertent compliment, as he started folding the remaining laundry. “Approximately two minutes and thirty seven seconds ago.”
That was met with a curious eyebrow raise. “Didn’t use cold water?”
“Where were you two hours ago?” Castiel grumbled as he continued to focus his attention on the task at hand, and not the distracting human.
Dean approached and started helping him fold. “You’ve been needing a coat upgrade for a while.”
Castiel quirked his brow, ignoring the pang of disappointment he felt at Dean’s words. “Was it not to your liking?”
“Don’t pout,” Dean chastised with an amused expression. “I just figured you could find a jacket that’s more… cool.”
And just because he knew it would frustrate Dean, having learned the colloquial speech of the eldest Winchester, Castiel replied, “I thought the point of a coat was for warmth.”
Dean rolled his eyes and gently punched Castiel’s shoulder. “You know what I meant.”
“I did,” Castiel said with a well-learned smirk, “but I enjoy your exasperation.”
“Spoken like a tried and true Winchester,” Dean quipped with a wink.
Castiel chuckled, appreciating a rare moment of peace and levity. There weren’t enough of them in their lives. “I was bound to learn eventually.”
Dean smiled, his expression earnest and relatively content. Castiel wished he could see that expression more often. “So?” Dean asked as he shook out a shirt before folding it, “you up for a trip to find you a new jacket?”
Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that.” As he finished folding the last pair of jeans, Castiel grabbed the basket. “When?”
Dean shrugged as he moved to let Castiel through the door first. “No time like the present.”
“Alright.”
It seemed less and less likely that Dean was going to live a normal life, but as he continued to grow older, he found it was getting easier and easier to have snippets of normal interwoven into the shitshow that was the life of a Winchester. Wipe out a vamp nest, thanks to the sneakily planted storage facility of weapons Crowley had left a “treasure map” for, then go grocery shopping. Hunt a shapeshifter, then play a round of mini golf.
While it wasn’t perfect, it was as close to a real life as they were going to get, and Dean found more and more of his own contentment in this idea. Maybe one day he’d own a bar, like Ellen did. Dean couldn’t help but smile as he turned left at the light on his way to the Goodwill.
Cas tilted his head in bemusement, a small smile playing around his lips. “It’s nice to see you smile.”
Dean ignored the heat that warmed his ears in mild embarrassment and waved Cas off. “I just like when we get to be normal.”
Cas’s bemusement was even more pronounced from the way his brows quirked. “I’d say our lives are as far from normal as possible, Dean.”
Granted that was probably true, Dean still couldn’t help but feel contentment. Especially after the fucked up year they had. “Still, I never imagined I’d be taking an angel clothes shopping. It’s weirdly… domestic.”
Cas let out a soft laugh. “It’s funny, I thought the same thing earlier today.”
Dean chuckled as he pulled into the parking lot. “So… what’re we thinking? Gonna join the cool kids and get a leather jacket?”
That was met with a smirk. “I was thinking a bright yellow raincoat.”
The bark of laughter that erupted from Dean was as surprising as it was delighted. Just imaging Cas in such a thing made Dean’s cheeks hurt from the way he was smiling. “And that’s why you’re my best friend.”
“My clothing taste?” Cas asked as he stepped out of the car.
Dean nodded. “Yup, that’s it. That’s the only thing.”
Cas chuckled as they made their way into the Goodwill. It was weird how human Cas looked when he laughed. Dean decided then to make Cas laugh at least once a day, if he could. It was only fair, Cas always made Dean laugh.
As they made their way to the men’s coat section, they took a side of a rack and started perusing the different jackets. When he found an obnoxious light purple track suit jacket, he held it up for Cas. “How about this?”
That was met with an unamused expression and an eyebrow quirk. “That’s more your color.”
Dean rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to the rack. That was when he saw the perfect leather jacket. He grabbed it and rounded the rack to approach Cas. “Here, try this on.”
Cas seemed impressed as he slipped his arm into the proffered jacket sleeve. Dean ignored the voice in his head about taking the Bogie role in this gentleman situation. He stepped back as Cas pulled on the jacket the rest of the way. Cas lifted his arms and gave Dean an expectant look. “What do you think?”
As he soaked in Cas’s appearance, he couldn’t help but think the angel looked weirdly… hot was the only word that came to mind. Over the years, Dean had become more and more accustomed to what he referred to as his ‘gay thoughts’. Which Cas was the frequent star of. Not that Dean would ever act on them. But he was finally becoming more comfortable with having them.
Hell, at least he stopped going out for one night stands every time he had a sex dream or dirty thought about those pouty lips. “I think it’s the winner,” Dean said, annoyed that his voice broke slightly. Like a prepubescent boy around a girl (or in his case, celestial wavelength of intent) he liked.
“Is it ‘cool’ enough for you?” Cas challenged as he started taking the coat off again.
Dean could hear the quotes in Cas’s question. He smirked and said, “Yeah. So? You want it?”
Cas folded the coat over his forearm and smirked. “I’ll purchase this, if you find a new shirt that isn’t plaid.”
Dean rolled his eyes, but the competitive part of him liked that his best friend was challenging him. He nodded for Cas to follow him over to the men’s shirts section. Again, they found themselves on either side of the rack, searching through the ridiculous amount of options. When he found a D.A.R.E. t-shirt, he bit back a laugh and held it up. “Cas, let me introduce you to one of this country’s dumbest attempts at drug prevention, well, besides mandatory minimums and the war on drugs.”
Cas furrowed his brow and did that damnably adorable head tilt thing. At this point, Dean used references just for this reaction. “Dare to resist drugs and violence?”
As Dean put the shirt back on the rack, he chuckled. “Yeah, basically a bullshit program to convince twelve-year-olds to abstain from drugs and gangs, that probably led to more drug use, not less.”
“I see,” Cas hummed thoughtfully, brows still scrunched from thought. Cas was bringing out all the hits.
When a hint of yellow caught his eye, Dean grabbed it and immediately barked out a laugh. He held the dirty yellow shirt up for Cas.
“Mustache rides, fifty cents?”
Dean grinned and nodded. “It’s two sizes too big, but damn, I kinda want it.”
Cas looked even more confused. “What is a mustache ride?”
Damnit! Dean tried, operative word being tried, to refrain from sex talk with Cas. Because Cas asked a lot of questions and sometimes… sometimes it made Dean think things. Sometimes it made Dean have bad seventies porn fantasies where Dean would remove his shirt and say something over the top like, “let me show you.” So, it was safer to steer clear of the subject entirely. “Uh, it’s… where are mustaches?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
Dean rolled his eyes and put the shirt back. “Men grow mustaches on their face, right?”
“Yes?” Cas asked, his tone lilted in hesitation.
“Think about it. If someone rode a mustache, what would that look like?”
Dean most definitely did not enjoy watching the confusion turn into slow, surprised realization. And just to add a cherry on the sundae of adorable angel expressions, Cas actually ducked his head as his cheeks darkened. A blush. Maybe he should buy the shirt for Cas?
Suddenly Cas pulled up the most hideous red and yellow hawaiian shirt. “What about this?”
“No,” Dean said without hesitation, impressed with the diversion.
“You like red shirts,” he argued and Dean refrained from tossing the mustache ride shirt in his face.
Dean scoffed. “Dark red. And plaid.”
The small smirk on Cas’s face was new. Like he was actually in on his own joke this time. “My mistake,” he murmured as he put the shirt back.
“How about a compromise?” Dean redirected.
Cas quirked his brow expectantly. “On?”
“Since I picked your jacket, you pick my shirt.” It wasn’t like Dean would have to wear whatever hideous choice Cas made.
And honestly, he might wear it once or twice, if only for the expression on Cas’s face in that moment. Like he’d let Cas pick the music. Hell, maybe Dean would do that when they were done here. Really push Cas over the edge.
“Anything?” Cas asked, clearly intrigued by the idea.
Dean chuckled and nodded. “Give it your best shot.”
Castiel had never had a more difficult choice than choosing between the overly large purple tie dye t-shirt with a wolf on it or the other half of a couples’ matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse slim fit shirt that had a small frill on the red and white polka dot bottom half, the word, “His,” embroidered across the chest and back.
Dean’s vehement protests over the latter was what made his decision, albeit there was a semblance of satisfaction he felt at insisting the man own something with such a possessive statement. Not that Dean would ever know that.
As Cas slipped into the passenger’s seat, he flashed Dean a quick smile. “I expect you to wear that on our next case.”
Dean snorted, a sound that became more and more pleasant as the years went by. “Yeah, totally appropriate for a fed.”
Castiel rolled his eyes, a habit well learned. “I meant for if you work undercover.”
The way Dean laughed was reminiscent of the first time he made Dean laugh like that. It was even better than the autistic man’s heaven. “Alright, alright, fine. Next case where I dress casual, I’ll wear it.”
Considering he was expecting a drawn out debate, it was a pleasant surprise how readily Dean acquiesced. The protests had been half-hearted at best, and they left the consignment store with two new articles of clothing. Today had been a good day.
“I must admit, I am a little surprised how comfortable you are with such subject matter now.” They had settled inside of the vehicle with practiced ease.
Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed north, instead of the south required to get back to the bunker. Perhaps Dean needed to run other errands. “What do you mean?”
It wasn’t often that Castiel was the one who needed to clarify to what he was referring. He offered Dean a smile and said, “Your comfort levels with ideas and concepts outside of your gender and sexuality. The way you embrace them now, as opposed to batting them away.”
Dean shrugged, another change in his prior responses. “Well, I had to get over it at some point, considering…” his words ended full-stop, body tensing in apparent distress at possibly revealing too much.
Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. He knew that Dean did not wish to clarify, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Considering what, Dean?”
There was a beat of tense silence. So much so, Castiel assumed the conversation had ended, which happened sometimes. Never receiving answers to his questions because silence was the preferred response. But suddenly Dean sighed and said, “Considering I…” His hands twisted in a mimicry of wringing against the hard plastic of the steering wheel. “Might not be entirely… uh, straight.”
To say Dean’s admission was surprising would have been quite the understatement. Castiel found himself stunned to silence, unsure what the appropriate response was. He was well aware how such a thing was a ‘touchy’ subject for many humans, much to his complete bemusement.
As he rifled through the various popular culture knowledge (forced upon him by Metatron) for the correct way to respond, Dean (clearly having grown frustrated), barked out a soft, “Say something.”
Perhaps it would be easier just to ask. “What would you like me to say?”
Dean sighed and shook his head. “Forget it, forget I said anything.”
Castiel was well aware what that meant, so he waited a beat before summoning the will to go against his friend’s wishes. “I’m happy you had the courage to tell me.”
That was met with a scoff. “Yeah, and why is that?”
Sam had told him once that honesty deserved honesty, so Castiel tried to harness his once removed-from-emotion mentality and stared resolutely at the white lines of the road quickly disappearing beneath the car. “For selfish reasons, I suppose.”
Suddenly, the speed with which the lines were being swallowed began to decelerate as Dean pulled the vehicle over, stopped at a quiet, unending road surrounded by cornfields. It might have been peaceful if Castiel’s heart wasn’t hammering within the confines of his human form.
The distinct sound of a seatbelt being unbuckled and shifting of the shared front seat still wasn’t enough to get Castiel to look at Dean’s face. It wasn’t until a warm hand clasped his chin and forcibly (albeit gently) turned his face. “What do you mean?” Dean asked, but it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
As his vision was clouded with a concerned green gaze that made the trees surrounding them pale in comparison, Castiel swallowed dryly, a lump in his throat. He took a steadying breath and pushed himself to give Dean the honesty he had been gifted. “Because of my feelings for you.”
Dean released his chin and drew back, the air between them tense, and Castiel found himself more unsure in this moment than any other he had experienced since his fall. “What feelings?”
Castiel sighed, realizing Dean was going to need to hear the words. “Dean, I fell for you. You are more than aware of what that means, why angels choose to fall.”
There was another beat of silence before Dean replied, “You fell for me?”
A wave of annoyance washed over Castiel. Dean was either being purposely obtuse, or genuinely didn’t realize that. Either way, he had to repress the urge to smack the infuriating human upside his head. “Yes, Dean. I didn’t fall for humanity. I fell for one, very specific human.”
Dean stared at him for a moment before he breathed out a quiet, “Why?”
“Why do you think?” he bit back, unable to keep the anger from his tone.
“Because… you’re in love with me?”
And there it was, the words he still hadn’t been able to bring himself to say. Castiel sighed and merely nodded in response. Dean’s face was unreadable, and he momentarily wondered if he should make himself his own Ma’lak box to hide away for all eternity.
“Okay,” was Dean’s infuriating response as he shifted back to the driver’s seat.
Castiel had to refrain from screaming at Dean to say something more, but while there was a quick spike of an urge to do so, he knew he would never. His control over his emotional responses was one of the few perks of being an angel. It also meant he wouldn’t push Dean to clarify further.
Instead Castiel fantasized about the directions the clarification would take. All of the different responses he would hear from Dean. To the logical: I don’t feel the same. To the supremely illogical: I do feel the same.
It wasn’t until they were back on the road, heading in the direction of the diner Dean loved to frequent that Castiel had accepted that neither of them would pursue further clarification.
Just as Castiel had resignedly shifted to stare out of his window at the passing scenery, he almost startled when warm fingers tentatively touched the back of his left hand. Castiel turned to look at Dean, certain his confusion etched into his features, brow furrowed, head tilted in silent question.
If it wasn’t clear the contact was by no means an accident because of just how far the man would have had to reach to accidentally touch his hand, the insecure smile that was flashed in his direction would have been. Dean appeared to grow bold and grasped Castiel’s hand before intertwining their fingers. Without saying a word, Dean’s attention was back on the road.
Castiel stared down at their entwined hands and couldn’t bring himself to quell the smile that emerged. He didn’t know what this meant, but there was a good to fair chance it was a very promising gesture. So, instead of breaking the silence with unnecessary questions, he squeezed Dean’s hand and felt warmth course through him when the action was returned.
Suddenly, he was incredibly grateful for his lack of knowledge when it came to water temperatures and washing machines.
The End. The Beginning.