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For Dean Winchester, life in black and white is, well, life. He doesn't dream of the day when he'll meet his soul mate and the world around him will change completely, as so many others do. In fact he wakes up some mornings thankful that his bedroom is still the same dull shades of grey it's always been and the woman next to him will walk out the door in a few hours and they'll never have to see each other again. He's more than happy to spend his free time reading or fixing up his car, colourless as she may be.
His brother, however, has been seeing in colour for six months now, ever since he met Madison at the local pound. He never ended up adopting a dog - much to Dean's delight - though Madison moved in with them two months later. Dean's happy for his brother, totally overjoyed, but that's not the life he wants. Or so he thinks, until suddenly that is what he wants, and he can't have it.
They're at a Halloween party - him and Sam and Madison - and Dean's hoping to pick up some girl - or maybe one of those guys he's seen hanging around near the front door - and get out of here early. He's never been one for Halloween, but Madison loves it, and so he'd agreed to come to this party for his sake. Plus, he's in college, he's supposed to go to parties and drink too much, and pick up girls and then repeat the process the next weekend. Maybe during the week. He's kind of a walking, talking stereotype, but he can't really be bothered by it. He enjoys the way his life, is going, he doesn't expect it to change. But then it does.
He's heard multiple stories about their soul mate's eyes being the first colour they see, but things never work like that for him, and this is no different. The first colour Dean sees is a flash of orange - a string of lights hanging in the window - and it takes a second for him to work out just what he's seeing. Colour. It's dull and a little fuzzy, not the sharp brightness that Dean's been told accompanies finding your soul mate, but it's there, and that means-
He turns around sharply, expecting to find someone else standing around and gaping in the same way as he does, but there's no one. Bodies press and bump against him and he wants to call out, but there's no way he'd be heard over the music, it's too loud in here. Too crowded. He panics, but a voice that sounds too much like Sam pipes up in his head, speaking softly and reminding him to calm down, take things one step at a time. So Dean closes his eyes and breathes. He takes a few deep breaths and then opens his eyes again, scanning the crowd as he moves to the edge, sitting down on the arm of a couch that appears to be the only free space in the too-small room.
No one appears affected by anything other than the people in their direct vicinity, no one is looking for him the way he's looking for someone. That's okay, he assures himself, feeling less than confident, it's a small room, whoever he touched could have easily moved into a different room by now. He has to force himself to breathe as he makes his way back into the kitchen.
There are way fewer people in here, Sam being one of them, and he eyes Dean with concern. Dean's grateful, for once, that Sam has Madison because if it wasn't for her encouragement, Sam would be at home studying now, and Dean really needs him tonight. His brother seems to realize this without Dean saying anything, because it's less than a minute before they're standing on the front steps of the house, Sam's hand a calming weight on his shoulder.
Dean's vaguely aware that he's rambling, and judging by the look on Sam's face, making less than no sense. Sam is nodding and squinting, obviously trying his best to understand, but it doesn't seem to be working.
"Dean, calm down. What's wrong?" Sam's other hand comes up to his shoulder, and Dean realizes he's shaking. "Dean-"
"Right," he breathes, snapping back to reality, "I found them, Sam. I found 'em and then I lost 'em and there are so many people, I don't- how do you find someone when you don't know what they look like?"
"Dean, who are you looking for?"
"I don't know." His shoulders slump and he looks anywhere but at Sam. He was wrong; he's not the person who will never find his soul mate, he's the one who will find them and lose them in the space of five minutes. Fuck everything.
"You-" he starts, trying to imagine this conversation in any other context; the grin that would spread across Sam's facing, matching the one Dean would hardly be able to conceal. His expression falls further, if possible, and he pushes a hand through his hair. "Your shirt is blue," he sighs, "and it's hideous."
Sam's expression is muddled when Dean looks up at him, like he's trying to process the information and decide if he should be offended at the same time. He settles for looking down at Dean with something akin to pity in his expression, and Dean's overcome with an intense need to get out of there. He doesn't want anyone's pity or sympathy, he wants to find his soul mate, and failing that he wants to be alone where he doesn't have to face anyone else's happiness.
"I'm just gonna go," he mumbled, "I'll see you at home."
"Dean wait, I'll drive you-"
"I'm just gonna walk, Sam. See you later."
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It's been three weeks since the Halloween party and the rest of the world is already well into the Christmas swing, but Dean is still having trouble getting out of bed in the mornings. He's called in sick to work the last few days, and he knows full well that Bobby's bullshitting when he responds with annoyance and insistence that Dean come in tomorrow. The tone of his adoptive parent come boss is put on, and barely masking the concern in his voice and Dean hangs up on him before he has to hear any more of it.
He's had a headache for the past four days, and as much as he brushes it off whenever Sam or Madison ask about it, he's starting to get a little worried. He's had migraines before, and awful headaches, but not for this long, and the pain usually wanes before coming back at full force. This is nothing like that, this feels like his brain is expanding and pulsing, trying to actually get out of his skull, and he can barely focus on anything but the pain. At least he's not entirely lying, when he calls into work again. He drops his phone onto the bed beside him, and lies there for a while, debating whether or not to get up.
Eventually, his stomach makes the decision for him, growling and gurgling until Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking his blanket with him. He hopes it's his imagination that his legs shake under him when he stands up fully. Madison is in the kitchen, sifting through her recipe box, when Dean comes up beside her.
"Morning," she smiles, then pauses when she turns to face him, one hand coming up to brush over his cheek, "you feelin' okay?" she asks.
"Fine," Dean lies. Of course he hasn't told Sam or Maddie about the headaches, or the exhaustion, or the general lack of desire to do anything. "Just didn't sleep so well last night."
"I told you not to drink four cups of coffee that late," she tuts, and Dean's struck by the fact that's he's got an alternate mother for a sister-in-law.
"I wanted to finish my book," he grumbles back, ignoring the way his head throbs at the light. He opens the freezer and frowns at the lack of food inside. "We out of waffles?"
"Sam's gone out to get groceries, go sit down and I'll make you some proper waffles." Dean's in no shape to argue, and he really wants waffles, so he crosses to the kitchen table and slumps over it, head resting on his folded arms.
Maddie hums as she busies herself with the task of making breakfast. She always seems to happy when she's cooking, and Dean can relate, but today there's a question buzzing in the back of his mind, and he couldn't focus to offer his help even if he thought Madison would accept it. He sits quietly until Maddie pulls the waffle maker out of the cupboard and plugs it in. She's spooning batter into it when Dean clears his throat.
"Hey, Mads," he mumbles, looking up at her.
"Mmhm?" she asks, not turning around.
"Have you uh... have you heard anything?"
Her shoulders slump, and Dean doesn't want to hear her reply, her body language is enough that he doesn't want to know what she's going to say.
"Sorry, hun," Maddie breathes, turning to face him, "nothing yet."
"'S okay," Dean mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of his elbow. "We'll keep looking, right?"
"Right," she agrees, cheering up and pulling her lips up into a smile, "we just have to be patient."
Dean nods against his arm, but he has trouble convincing himself that it's true. They've been searching for his soul mate since the party, going through personal ads and the I Saw You section in the local paper. So far there's been nothing but disappointment, and the only thing that makes it less than devastating is that neither Sam nor Madison have mentioned his sudden change in personality.
All he can think of lately is the mysterious person who he knows is out there somewhere, but he can't seem to reach. He can't even remember the last time he looked at someone and didn't wonder if maybe that was them, but then again, he's sure he could tell if they were. He aches for someone he's never even met, and for all he teases Sam and Madison about their disgusting domesticity, he kind of envies them for it now. More often that not, he dreams of cold winter days curled up with someone by the fire, or sweltering summer evenings lying out in a field watching the stars, content just to have each other for company. On those mornings, he wakes up particularly miserable. It's everything he never wanted before, and his brother and sister-in-law have just accepted it the way they've accepted every other change in the last few weeks.
Dean's dragged back to the present by Madison pushing a plate of waffles in front of him. He smiles up and thanks her before cutting into them with his fork.
- -
"I'm gonna grab you a glass of water, will you be okay for a few minutes?" Dean nods against the wall, and she drags her fingers over his shoulder before she leaves the room. He's not sure how the hell Sam landed himself such a fucking phenomenal woman, but at this particular moment, Dean's so glad that he did.
It's not Madison that returns to him, but Sam, pressing a hand on Dean's back and kneeling down next to him. Dean takes a drink over water and chokes on it before setting the glass back down.
"Mads told me you were sick. I called Doctor Roberts, and I think you should see her."
"'M fine, Sammy."
"Dean you've been in bed for practically three weeks, Bobby told me you've been calling in to work and Charlie said you're barely there in class." Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Sam continues, "you can't tell me this is just you wanting to find your soul mate, Dean. Something's really wrong, isn't it?"
Dean doesn't want his brother to worry, doesn't want to admit there's something not quite right with himself, but he nods anyway. "Haven't felt right since Halloween."
- -
"Dean?" she asks, and he nods, eyes shut again. "What seems to be the problem." Everything he wants to say, because that's how it feels right now, and he kind of wishes he hadn't told Sam to stay in the waiting room.
"Um?" he starts dumbly, trying to think through the pain. "I've had a splitting headache for like almost a week straight now and nothing I do makes it any better," he pauses to think, "I have less than no energy, and when I do get up I feel like I'm about to collapse..." he trails off and avoids looking up at the doctor as she jots down what he's saying.
"How have you been feeling emotionally?" she asks.
"Shitty," he replies honestly.
"How long ago did you meet your soul mate?"
Dean starts, his head snapping up to look at her. "How did you know I've met my soul mate?" he asks.
"You're suffering from extended withdrawal," she says simply, "your souls haven't bonded, and your physical body is feeling the affects of that. Just stop rejecting the bond, and you'll feel better almost instantly."
"Oh," Dean huffs, the news hitting him like a fucking cement truck. He feels like shit because he's not with his soul mate, who he can't find because he was stupid enough to leave the goddamn party without running around and touching every single person in that house until he did.
Across from him, Doctor Roberts is explaining that if he initiates the soul bonding process with his soul mate, everything will return to normal, and Dean can't bring himself to tell her he doesn't even know who his soul mate is.
He leaves the room with Doctor Roberts in tow, assuring him that everything will be fine, and he can't even fake a smile when Sam looks up at him hopefully. On the drive home, he explains everything to Sam, and Sam assures him that they'll find Dean's soul mate, however long it takes and Dean thinks that if it takes longer than another month, he's not going to survive.
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Still, he feels like absolute shit, and the guy sitting above him on the balcony won't shut the fuck up for five seconds. Dean's already got sunglasses on to stop the dull grey light of the day from making his head worse, and this guy's voice is fuckin grating. He's about to make his discomfort known to the guy when he hears
"He's barely left his bed since Halloween, no idea what the hell is wrong with him." The woman he's sitting with offers soothing words that probably make no difference to him.
Dean continues to listen to their conversation while Charlie debates over the menu. Apparently this guy's brother - Castiel or some weird shit like that - is suffering almost exactly what Dean has been.
"Charlie," he hisses, and she raises her head with a sympathetic look.
"No, Dean, it's probably a coincidence."
"What if it's not?"
He doesn't think before he turns around and gets the guy's attention.
"Has he met his soul mate?" Dean asks, and the guy and his red-headed companion both stop and look at him.
"Uh, who the hell are you?" he asks.
"Dean Winchester," he says calmly, "I think I have the same problem as your brother. My doctor said it's something to do with my soul mate, how we were separated after we met." The guy continues to sit and stare at him until Dean adds, "at Michael Milon's party on Halloween."
He swallows hard as the guys eyebrows rise into his hairline, and he hopes against hope that just maybe this is what he's been waiting for. The guy stands and comes over to sit in the empty chair between Dean and Charlie.
"Yeah, my brother was at that party. And he's seeing in colour, but he's not- he doesn't know who his soul mate is. Gabriel Novak," he holds out a tentative hand to Dean, which Dean can't help but smirk at. He wouldn't want to touch him either, going by the reflection in the mirror every morning. "You look awful, by the way." A small smile creeps onto his face, and Dean can tell he's trying not to hope too hard when he says, "just like Cassie."
- -
He has to stop himself from rushing inside when they pull into the driveway, and he waits for Gabriel to get out of the car and lead him upstairs. There's a bedroom right at the top of the stairs, and Gabriel knocks softly before entering.
"Cassie? I've got someone I want you to meet, can we come in?" There's a muffled sound of annoyance, but Gabriel pushes the door open anyway.
The first look Dean gets at the man in the bed on the other side of the room is obscured by blanket. The second the door had open, he'd pulled it up over his face and groaned curses at his brother.
"Castiel?" Dean asks cautiously, looking to Gabriel for his okay before crossing to the edge of the bed. He pauses before sitting down on the edge of it, and Castiel pushes the blankets away from his face to frown up at Dean.
His face is deathly pale other than the purple rings around his eyes, and he looks like he hasn't slept for days. His eyes are dull and grumpy, but the most gorgeous shade of blue Dean's ever seen. Castiel looks like he's a good gust of wind away from blowing away, but Dean thinks he's gorgeous, and he can't help himself from brushing sweat-damp hair out of the man's eyes.
Castiel's frown deepens and he reaches up to push Dean's hand away, but the moment his fingers brush against Dean's, they both freeze. Their eyes snap together like magnets, and a relieved but completely disbelieving expression clouds his face.
"Cas-" Dean chokes out. He faintly hears the click of the door shutting in the background, but all he can focus on is the pair of blue eyes beneath him, and the sudden lightness that fills his entire being. It's like floating, and judging by the expression Castiel is wearing, he feels the same.
It's been so long that Dean can't tell if he's actually feeling fantastic, or if he's just not in pain anymore. Either way, he can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest, and Castiel beams back at him.
"Oh my God, I thought I'd never find you." He doesn't realize he's crying until Castiel swipes a thumb across his cheek.
"Neither did I," Castiel breathes, and damn that is some voice. Dean closes his eyes and drops his chin.
"God, I-"
"I don't know your name," Castiel interrupts, tipping Dean's chin up again.
"Dean," he grins, "and you're Castiel," he adds unnecessarily. Castiel nods and smiles up at him.
"Call me Cas."
"Okay."
Cas' hand falls from Dean's cheek to cover his hand on the bed, and they stay still for an immeasurable amount of time, just grinning at each other like idiots. It isn't until the wind blows through the window and Cas reaches up to rearrange the curtain, that Dean looks around and suddenly realizes how much brighter everything is. He's distracted from his realization when careful fingers slide over his cheek, and he turns back to Cas.
"Can I kiss you, Dean?"
Dean nods enthusiastically and tilts down to meet Cas, their lips pressing softly together. His eyes shut instinctively, and he leans on one elbow to keep himself balanced. Cas is tentative at first, testing the waters, until Dean slides his tongue across Cas' bottom lip. Cas opens to him, sitting up as he deepens the kiss and suddenly his hands are on Dean's hips, sliding around to bring his body closer. Dean lets himself be dragged down to the mattress, fitting his body flush against Cas'. He doesn't pull away until the need to breathe becomes too much, and Cas nuzzles against his neck.
"Will you stay for a while?" Cas asks, and Dean couldn't deny him that even if he'd wanted to.
"Of course," he hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas' head, "you'll have to drag me outta here."
"I hope not." Cas leans back and kisses him again, slower this time, but more assured. For a few minutes, Dean forgets that anything in the world exists besides Castiel and his beautiful blue eyes. Cas pulls back again and shuffles around until Dean's in bed next to him, blankets pulled up to their chins, and Dean suddenly realizes that if he's not going home any time soon, he should probably let Sam know. And Charlie, for that matter, although Gabriel will probably do that for him.
"Hold on," he mumbles, digging his phone out of his jeans. Cas watches patiently as Dean shoots off a couple of text messages. All he says is a simple "I found him" and he knows Sam is going to give him shit for that later, and he's going to have to give him a better explanation when he gets home, but for now he shuts his phone off and drops it off the side of the bed, turning back to Cas with a soft smile. Cas is smiling back as he kisses the tip of Dean's nose before cupping his face and dragging their lips together again. Dean hums into Cas' mouth and curls his fingers into the short hair at the back of the man's neck. Later, he thinks, later he will sit down and tell Sam everything he wants to know, but for now there is nothing on heaven or earth that could drag him out of this bed.