Archive of Our Own

This was almost too much. Castiel stood, hand covering his mouth, at the door to his flat, staring down at the vase on the ground. It was a simple glass vase filled with a splash of violet, lavender, and plum-coloured flowers speckled with tiny, white hanging blooms amidst soft, silvery green leaves. He slowly stooped to pick it up and examined each of the slips of paper that hung from the blossoms. Periwinkle, mezereon, wormwood, lily of the valley, ranunculus. Sweet memories, desire to please, happiness, sweetness, I am dazzled by your charms . The note at the neck of the vase read, “Thank you for making the last six months so perfect. Pick you up at 5:30pm.”

He bit his lip, failing to prevent a wide, goofy grin from spreading across his face before unlocking his door and entering the kitchen. He set the vase on the table and removed his sweater, draping it over the back of the couch. He had, of course, gotten Dean a bouquet as well, though its message differed slightly and he was sure his selection did not look as aesthetically pleasing as the one he had just received, despite its usual strange combination of flowers. He had gone with lavender petunias, white gerbera daisies, and a few dark pink roses with lacy ferns, tied with a silky ribbon matching the roses. Your presence soothes me, cheerfulness, thankfulness, sincerity.

They had been planning this camping trip for a couple weeks now, both feeling that six months together was indeed cause for some sort of celebration. It might not seem like much to others, but to Castiel and Dean, it was everything. In their own ways, they had been the beginning of a new chapter in each other’s lives. For Castiel, he had come to trust Dean, to rely on him, and to care deeply for him. He made him feel things he never thought possible, an actual connection to another human being. Only one of the relationships Castiel had had in the past had been considered “serious” by his family members, and though he felt this way at one point, having Dean made him realise how much he had been missing.

He had had flings, of course, in high school before his anxiety overtook him. He’d tried to be with several girls in his classes, the ones who had approached him at parties mostly, the most memorable being a dark-haired girl named Meg. She constantly gave him less-than-subtle hints in school, giving him devilish looks in AP World History, “accidentally” bumping into him at his locker and striking up conversations, even winking at him in English.

One night, at the end of his sophomore year, he had gone to a party at Crowley’s house while his parents were away. He hadn’t consumed much alcohol, but there was enough in his system to have loosened him up a bit. When Meg found him, she’d swiftly taken his face in her hands and pressed their lips together; she was only slightly more inebriated but nonetheless vastly more bold than usual. He reciprocated enthusiastically by pinning her against the wall and kissing her vigorously, thinking of his religious family and how they had asked him if he had found a nice girl once he’d started high school. She’d backed them into a vacant room, kicking the door shut behind them. He remembered her yanking off her top, peeling his shirt off his skin dampened from the collective heat of so many bodies under one roof. Once shoved onto the bed, he’d felt his belt loosening and his jeans tugged from his legs.

Meg bent down and continued to kiss him, running her hands over his chest down to his hips. He gasped suddenly when she palmed his crotch through his boxers, biting at his neck.

She stopped suddenly, looking down at him. “Having trouble getting it up there, big guy?” she breathed.

“ ‘m fine,” he said, dragging her back down. He hadn’t been sure why he’d continued this way. He had no romantic feelings for Meg and the truth was, yes he was having a bit of an issue getting things going down south, but hey, he was a sixteen-year-old boy. This was what he was supposed to do, right?

Well, needless to say, when the boxers came off, it was clear they wouldn’t be going much further. Meg actually chuckled as she stared down at him.

“Castiel,” she’d said. “You didn’t tell me you were gay.”

His heart hammered in his chest. Gay? He thought. No, no I’m not that… I’m just… I’m not that. “I’m not!” he practically yelled.

But Meg sat back and raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay, Cas,” she said seriously. “Really. You didn’t know you were, that’s all.”

“I’m not gay.” He stood and began to put his clothes back on. “I’m not gay.”

“Hey,” she grabbed his arm. “I’m not going to say anything, alright?”

He glared at her. “Meg,” he said coldly. “Listen to me. I am not gay .”

“You say it like it’s a disease,” she scoffed. “You got religious folks or somethin’?”

He clenched his jaw. “Yeah, you could say that.”

She sighed as he threw his shirt over his head. “Well, like I said I won’t say anything.”

“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “And like I said, I’m not into guys.”

Looking back on it now, Castiel was grateful for the encounter with Meg, though it caused him quite a bit of grief for months afterward. Crowley threw yet another party midway through their junior year, at which he had realised he could no longer ignore this part of himself. He’d been approached by Zachariah, a senior with whom he’d had very little contact, and before he knew it, they were making out on a random bed in the house, neither of them particularly drunk. They gradually lost bits of clothing until there were none left. Eventually, Zachariah had reached into his bag, retrieving a small bottle of liquid from one of the pockets and Cas had momentarily frozen. It was his first flashback, though at the time he hadn’t realised it. Zachariah had asked him if he was okay, and Cas told him yes, he was fine. He assured him that yes, this was what he wanted. After all, he was definitely more aroused than he had been with any of the girls he’d been with. Though he didn’t let himself think, “I’m gay.” He’d deal with that later.

But as he felt the other young man inside him, rocking the bed against the wall, he felt anything but fine.  He gripped the sheets until his knuckles were white, trying desperately to remain present. This is supposed to be enjoyable , he’d reminded himself. When Zachariah came, Castiel felt him clutch at his sides as he practically convulsed against his back. He didn’t stay long after that. He mumbled a quick, “Thanks” and “Have a good night” as he threw his clothes back on and left the room, leaving Castiel in, what he would later realise, a semi-dissociative state. He lay on the strange bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling as his subconscious showed him images he hadn’t known he’d blocked out. Once he felt reality settling around him once more, he stood and cleaned himself up on a towel he found lying on the floor. Dressing himself, he stumbled toward the door and made his way through the crowd and out into the night.

The next day, he’d told Charlie what happened. He had been hiding the “Meg thing”, as he called it in his mind, for months, but he couldn’t hide it any longer. She sat on his bed with a calculus book open as he spewed the details of the night he and Meg did not have sex.

“Cas, why didn’t you tell me?” she’d said softly.

He looked away from her. “Because I, I dunno I was afraid? I feel like my parents would flip…”

“They would not, dude,” she said. “Seriously, if I know Naomi and Chuck, which I do, they are not homophobes. I really believe that.”

In a combination of overwhelming guilt and wanting to believe his best friend was right, he’d told his parents two weeks later about the boy. About how he felt around girls. And he cried, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, so afraid of their reaction. But it was nothing he’d been expecting. When he’d told them he needed to tell them something, they’d been fearing the worst, apparently, and his mother lunged forward and embraced him once he’d gotten the words out of his mouth.

“Castiel,” his father sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he’d cried into his mother’s shoulder.

“Stop it,” she said gently. “We thought you were hurt or something. We thought you were going to tell us, I don’t know,” she stuttered.

“Like you were secretly on drugs or something,” his father finished. “You really thought he’d judge you for this?” He hugged Cas after that.

“Well,” Castiel sniffled, “yeah… You’re so religious and--”

“Castiel James Novak, we do not use religion as an excuse to hate others,” his mother said sternly. “We are not those kind of people. We love you.”

And that was that. Castiel never called himself “gay” per say, rather that he liked people for who they were. He continued to say this into adulthood, despite the fact that he had never been with a woman.

Although relieved, Cas couldn’t help but think of the party. Of the part he didn’t tell his parents. Sure, he’d admitted to them he’d had sex, but he didn’t tell them how he felt afterward. The pounding of his heart and the scenes playing in his head as the room spun around him. That was a secret he continued to keep from them for some time, until his hospital stay.

His one “serious” relationship occurred just over a year prior this infamous undergraduate mental breakdown, and one less serious one in high school. Barty had been his first boyfriend, whom he had dated from the end of junior year until they graduated. He was a kind boy, but again, Castiel had similar problems with freezing up after any sexual encounters. Then there was Gadreel, a guy he’d met over the summer before starting his undergraduate classes. But even with him, with whom he stayed for nearly three years, he had had to learn to numb himself to all emotion during such instances. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Gadreel, he certainly did and the end to their relationship brought Cas a great deal of distress, but he never felt he wanted to have sex with him. He felt that it was an unnecessary means to show his feelings toward the man, he rathered quiet conversations and sharing stories, just talking.

As it turned out, Gadreel didn’t feel the same as Castiel, and it was too much for him to take. As Castiel’s panic attacks and dissociative states became worse and worse, Gadreel became less and less capable of being with him. He was kind enough when he broke things off, saying things like, “You deserve more than I can give” and “I’m sorry, I wish I could help you”, but it stung just the same. He couldn’t help but wonder if his lack of enthusiasm over intimacy had anything to do with it. He couldn’t see the problem; Gadreel wanted it, so Castiel gave it to him. What did it matter if he didn’t enjoy himself?

As it turned out, this was not considered “normal” according to the unwritten social code. And when he finally opened up to Charlie, long after he and Gadreel had broken up, after the hospital stay, and after he’d followed her suit by moving to the west coast,  she expressed a real concern for him.

“Cas, relationships are supposed to be mutual ,” she said as he sat on her couch. “If you need to take things slow that’s okay. That’s not abnormal. But you can’t just force yourself into doing things like that.”

“So I have learned,” he sighed. “Charlie, I don’t think I can do it again.”

“Well good, I mean you really deserve to have a proper relationship, Cas--”

“No, I mean I don’t think I can do another relationship.”

She looked up at him from her place on the floor, packing up Christmas decorations. “Don’t say that,” she chided. “You just need a break. You need a fresh start.”

And a fresh start he’d gotten indeed. After the hospital stay, Castiel became an incredibly anxious person, not to mention easily depressed. But his therapist agreed moving to the west coast was probably the best decision he could have made. Yes, everything was new and terrifying, but he knew he had conquered worse things. He knew he would be okay, somehow.

And now as he stared fondly at the vase brightening his kitchen, he couldn’t help but think about the insanity of life. In the last three years he had received his bachelor’s degree, had a bout of psychosis, been hospitalised for months, uprooted himself from everything familiar to him (save for Charlie), fallen apart, and begun to put himself back together. Not the mention the past six months, in which he had begun to feel more like himself than he had in ages. It was a whirlwind.

Castiel sighed and went to his bedroom, preparing his backpack for the weekend trip. Around 5:30pm, there came a knock at his door.

“Hello, Dean,” he smiled as he let Dean into the kitchen.

“Hey, Cas,” he kissed him on the cheek. “Ready?”

He nodded, shouldering his bag and tying his boots. They were headed to a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail which lay several hours from their city. The had decided a good hike would be better than a dinner, considering they frequently dined together anyway.

Locking his door, Cas followed Dean down the stairs and out to the Impala, placing his bag in the back seat with Dean’s and climbing into the passenger’s seat.

Castiel spent most of the ride gazing out the window, watching as they left behind towering grey buildings, replaced by towering trees topped with shuddering green leaves. He closed his eyes after a while, listening to Dean sing quietly along to the classic rock streaming from the radio. He didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until there was a hand shaking his shoulder.

“Rise ‘n’ shine sweetheart,” said Dean excitedly. “We’re here!”

Cas rubbed his eyes and tried to blink away his drowsiness as he stepped out of the car and took his bag from Dean. They locked up the car and headed through the trail entrance. They hadn’t planned on travelling terribly far, but there was a small lake nearby they wanted to camp by, given the beautiful weather forecasted for the weekend.

After many hours of marching on, whistling and humming various tunes as they passed over the sun-dappled trail, enjoying the crisp wind passing through the trees. Around 8:00pm, they decided to stop and set up camp for the night.

Castiel sighed contently as he ate his pasta. “This was a really good idea,” he said.

“Agreed,” said Dean, his mouth full.

“What are we going to do about the tent?” he asked as they cleaned their dishes.

“What do you mean?” said Cas.

“I mean, um, I only have one and you said in the car you didn’t bring one.” Castiel could see the colour rising to his face in the glow of his headlamp.

“And…?” he said.

“And I didn’t know if you were comfortable being that close all night,” he blurted.

Cas laughed. “I think I’ll manage, Dean.”

They each took turns changing in the tent before climbing in together under the sleeping bag. Considering the mild temperatures, they opted to unzip it entirely, using it as a blanket. Feeling fatigued from the hours in the car and trekking, they fell asleep hand-in-hand with little discussion.

When Cas sensed the brightness of early morning sun illuminating the tent, he felt his back pressed against Dean’s chest. This was not a position he usually enjoyed, however in this moment, he felt comfortable. Safe. He turned slowly so that he faced Dean and scanned his face, void of any stress or tension as he slept. He could see the faint freckles that dotted his nose, the slight twitches in his eyelids. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked.

His eyes flickered open as Cas drew him closer, wrapping an arm tightly around his back.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

Dean’s arm tightened at his waist. “Speak for yourself,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Good morning, Dean,” he replied.

“Good morning, Cas,” he said, smiling.

Cas leaned in and kissed him slowly, resting his head on the pillow close to Dean.

“We should eat,” said Dean between kisses. “And get hiking.”

“Yes I suppose you’re right.”

He reluctantly sat up and dug around in his bag for the stove to heat their water. They sat outside the tent as they ate their breakfast, joking lightheartedly and enjoying the fresh air before setting off once more.

***

So apparently the lake was farther than they’d thought. That was okay, Dean thought, it just meant they wouldn’t be able to camp there; they’d have to turn back and camp somewhere in the woods again.

Dean was really enjoying himself, and he told himself they should do these things more often, though he still thought it was an excellent date to mark six months in a relationship with Cas. As they hiked on that Saturday afternoon, Dean’s mind wandered, contemplating the past in light of this six month celebration.

Six months really wasn’t that long, and he knew that. But somehow, it hadn’t felt like six months. It felt like ages. Like Cas was simply supposed to be there. As cheesy as it sounded, and Dean really hated sounding cheesy, he knew he had never felt like this with anyone else. He recalled past girlfriends, two of which had been serious; the ending of the latter had left him a broken mess for what seemed like an eternity afterward. Aside from all his antics in high school, which involved a decent amount of parties and trivial sex with strange women, Cassandra had been the first person he ever felt like he cared for. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he loved her, though they were together for a solid two years of their undergraduate studies. But she’d had to move and neither of them wanted to do the long distance thing. So that had been a pretty mutual breakup, even though it was bittersweet.

Lisa, on the other hand, was a whole different story. They’d started seeing each other when Dean was 25, and she was 27. To say they hit it off right away would be a lie, considering they met at a bar when he was drunk one night and he’d accidentally dumped beer down the front of her shirt. Her then-boyfriend, who was equally drunk, proceeded to clock him right in the nose. Apparently this was a thing he frequently did, because she told the guy that was the last straw and broke up with him days later. She’d even gone to Dean’s apartment building to apologise. That’s when it began, really.

They spent about two and a half years together after that, setting a rather rapid pace for their relationship. Reflecting on this, Dean felt it had been much too fast; they moved in together just months after they started dating and it quickly became rather unhealthy and codependent. They began spending every day together, losing contact with their friends and barely speaking with family members. It didn’t help that Dean’s drinking began to take its toll on the relationship after while, too. It had been one particular incident that pushed them over the edge, an incident that continued to cause Dean a great deal of stress long after they’d broken up.

One night at a bar, when Dean was pretty far gone, he took someone else home with him. He never would have thought himself capable of cheating, and after that night he vowed never to let it happen again. He’d never forget the look on Lisa’s face when she came out of their bedroom in the morning to find him on the couch with a strange man under his arm, their clothes strewn across the floor. Once he’d woken up, the guy quickly caught on to the situation and got the hell out of the house, saying a few trepid, “I’m sorry”s.

Dean had felt horrible, a deep-rooted nauseating guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach. “Lisa, I’m so sorry--” he began.

“Dean, you’re gay?” Lisa cut him off.

He stared at her, incredulous. He’d cheated on her, and all she could think of was whether or not it had been with a man or another woman? “But I--”

“You need help, Dean.” The lack of anger in her voice only made him feel worse. She should be screaming at him, he’d thought. She should be furious. But she simply gave him that look of “I expected better of you” and walked out of the room.

After that, Dean tried his best to fix things. He reflected on all the times alcohol had screwed him over, had made him make horrible decisions and gotten him into all varieties of trouble. Strangely enough, it seemed to be the root of it all. And just like that, he signed up for a local AA meeting and he quit the stuff. Sure, there were a few relapses, but none too awful to overcome. And they’d even managed to keep their toxic relationship together an entire year before it completely fell apart.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she’d said, folding her clothes and stuffing her belongings into a large suitcase.

Dean felt the prickle in his eyes and quickly set his jaw, refusing to cry now, of all times. “I’ve changed, Lisa. I’m not who I was before, you know that.”

“I know that, Dean,” she replied. “But I can’t be with someone who’s… you know. I just, I can’t do this.”

“Someone who’s what, exactly?” he asked, taking a step forward.  “Please tell me it’s not what  I think it is. You’re telling me you can’t be with me because I cheated on you, right? Because I can understand that. But if it’s…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d felt the distance between them since the incident with the man from the bar, but couldn’t bring himself to think Lisa, someone he loved and whom he thought loved him in return, could possibly be so close-minded.

She zipped the suitcase, leaning against it with all her weight to force the lid shut before finally looking up at Dean.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wished you had told me about your problem before, then this wouldn’t have happened. We could have gotten you help.”

“I got help,” he said. “I quit! I haven’t had a drink in--”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she spoke softly, barely audible.

“Lisa,” he sighed.  “I love you. And you should know that. But I seriously have a difficult time seeing you as a homophobe—”

“Oh so you’re admitting it?” Now she was walking toward the door.

“Admitting what?”

“That you’re gay?” She practically spat the word.

“No, I’m—”  he thought for a moment, realization finally coming over him. “I just don’t really have a preference I guess? Bisexual, I guess… “ he trailed off, talking with himself as much as with Lisa.

But she opened the door and turned to him saying,  “There’s no such thing, Dean,” quietly. “You’re one or the other, and I know what you choose. I see the way you look at other guys.”

“I do not look at other guys!” His hand was on the doorknob now.

But she wouldn’t listen, jealousy evidently clouding her judgement. “Goodbye, Dean. I’m so sorry this couldn’t work.” And she was gone.

He’d called after her. Hell, he’d cried . When she was out of sight, gone from the driveway, he’d slammed the door, feeling overwhelmed. His heart sat like a rock in his chest; he couldn’t believe the things she’d said. Was she right? Was there something wrong with him? No , he told himself. No , there is nothing wrong with this.

Things had been rough after that. Soon after Lisa left, Dean spoke seriously with Bobby and Ellen about his plans for the florist shop, and they agreed to help him get it started. They told him it would be a great way to get his mind off of things and to help him move forward. He reconnected with them, along with Sam, apologising for everything that had come to pass, not only for his lack of contact when he was with Lisa, but for his drinking habits. They’d had numerous heartfelt, sometimes tearful, conversations. Dean had been so afraid they wouldn’t accept his apologies, that they would tell him he blew his chance. But of course, they reminded him that he was part of their family, through thick and thin. Sam had especially been a little hurt by this assumption, but he made it clear that no matter what happened, Dean was his brother before anything else.

Completely humbled and immensely grateful, Dean poured his heart and soul into every step to starting the business, working his way through his depression instead of drinking through it. His work paid off, considering how quickly That’s Ranunculus! had become popular among locals and visitors alike. He moved to a new flat closer to the shop and helped Sammy pay what little tuition he owed to Stanford. After a while, things really started to look up; it was just him, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo again. Dean hadn’t been expecting he’d meet anyone new of interest, keen on taking a much-needed break from such commitment and using the time to get back on his feet, start taking care of himself.

Things had thoroughly settled down when Cas had come to the city. He’d had the flower shop for nearly two years and his life was probably the simplest it had ever been, not that he minded. But who’d have thought the newest barista Ellen had hired, whom she had described as being timid and quiet, would be so damn hot? He’d come to terms with his bisexuality, and he had been on a spare few dates with men, but what he felt when he met Castiel was nothing short of embarrassing to him. He felt like a schoolgirl trying to talk to a crush every time her went into Ellen’s coffee shop. He couldn’t believe himself when he’d had the balls to use the language of flowers to ask the guy out. But now, as he hiked happily over hills and through forests on this beautiful October day, he could not be more glad he had done so.

Before he knew it, they were at the lake eating their sandwiches and enjoying the placidity of the place. They hadn’t seen many other people around, surprisingly. The weekend was passing much too quickly, in Dean’s opinion. He watched as Cas inhaled deeply, no doubt enjoying the aroma of the various wildflowers around them. He loved the way the sun made his eyes match the hue of the sky, wind ruffling his already slightly dishevelled hair.

“What?” said Cas, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dean shook his head, looking down at the grass. “Nothin’.”

Castiel continued to look at him, head slightly tilted; Dean cleared his throat. “We should, uh, get going back if we wanna make good time.”

Cas’ gaze lingered momentarily but he nodded and stood, shouldering his bag.

As they packed up and headed back toward the woods, Dean thought of the newest flower shipment he had scheduled for Monday morning along with the couple he was supposed to meet up with to discuss arrangements. He tried to put the thought out of his head for the time being and fell into step beside Castiel.

The weather, which had been close to perfect since the beginning of the trip, suddenly took a turn and soon they found themselves donning rain gear. As the sun began to set and darkness filled the woods, the two hastily set up the tent along with a tarp between two trees to block the rain from the fire of the stove.

“So six months,” said Dean as he poured hot water into their mugs.

“Indeed,” said Cas. “Six months.” He paused before adding, “I am very happy to have spent these past six months with you, Dean.”

Dean placed bags of tea in each of the cups and looked over at him. “I feel the same, Cas. I didn’t really know what to expect with this… with us . You know?”

“Mmm,” Cas said as he sipped his tea. “I certainly wasn’t expecting it to go so well. My last relationship was… well it didn’t end well.”

Dean laughed humourlessly. “Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir there, man.”

“You too?”

He nodded. “Yeah, there was this girl…” He delved into the story of Lisa, something about which he had been purposefully avoiding telling Cas for fear it might scare him off. But Castiel listened carefully as he admitted the unhealthy nature of the relationship, along with his repression of his sexuality and how he had made up with his family after a long two years.

“Now I’m just rambling, I guess,” Dean finished, absentmindedly stirring his food in its dish.

“I’m very sorry things happened that way,” said Cas. “You deserve better.”

“I mean, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. I was the one with the drinking problem, and I’m the one who cheated. I’ve never really been able to get over that. I’ve been afraid of being in a relationship since then…”

“Because you fear you’d cheat again?” Cas asked casually.

Dean looked him in the eye. “No. I will never do that again,” he took a deep breath and averted his eyes. “It was out of fear that no one would ever trust me again, that I fucked up so badly, I wouldn’t be able to fix myself.”

Castiel looked at him fondly. “You can’t fix what isn’t broken, Dean.”

A sudden lump caught in Dean’s throat at that. He swallowed it down quickly and said, “Don’t make me blush, Cas,” laughing nervously.

“I’m serious. You’re human, and humans make mistakes. I firmly believe you are a good person, Dean. And I do trust you. Which is saying something, considering my, uh, issues .”

Dean finally met his eyes and smiled. “That means a lot to me, it really does.” After a few moments, he asked, “So what about you? What happened with your last relationship, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind,” he set his bowl on the ground beside the stove and brought his knees to his chest. “It wasn’t his fault. I felt like it was mine, but, well you know.” He sighed. “I met this guy, Gadreel, right before going to university. Things were good for a while.”

“But?”

“But, all good things must come to an end…”

Dean listened as he spoke about the time he’d spent with Gadreel, and how his PTSD became too much to ignore. He found that the reasons Gadreel had given Cas for breaking up with him made him angry; he thought it was cowardly of the man to give up on him so easily.

But Cas shook his head, “Dean, he wasn’t a bad person. And he did the best he could. Not everyone can handle being with...someone like me,” he lowered his gaze to the grass, illuminated by his headlamp. “I think it was good of him to admit he couldn’t do it. Rather than string me along. I think that would have been worse for both of us.”

Dean said nothing, because he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never had problems with anxiety, so he couldn’t say he empathised. He just wanted Castiel to know he would never do that to him.

After a while of silence, Dean studying Cas’ face as he picked at the blades of grass, Cas spoke. “It...also may not have been the only reason he wanted to leave me,” he started.

“What do you mean?” asked Dean.

“I, um, well I may not have been all that affectionate with him. I don’t think he liked that.”

Dean laughed. “That’s kinda ridiculous if that was part of the reason he broke up with you, don’t you think? I mean, everyone’s different and you were going through a lot, maybe you just didn’t like to be touched.”

“It wasn’t just that.” Cas was squirming a little, appearing to find words difficult to say. “I didn’t like sex.” He said plainly.

“That’s okay, too,” Dean replied. “Especially given your past.”

“At the time I wasn’t thinking about that. But it’s always been like that. I’ve never enjoyed sexual encounters, they always lack emotion on my part.” He briefly described his encounter with Zachariah back in high school, and how that had gone over.

“Hm,” Dean furrowed his brow, troubled by the story he’d just heard. “You think your lack of emotion has to do with what happened when you were a kid?”

Castiel looked at him. “Well, yes I suppose so. But it’s not as though I can’t feel things for people, obviously. I cared about him. And I really care about you. But…”

“You could just be asexual?” Dean suggested.

Castiel sighed. “While I see nothing wrong with others being asexual, I don’t feel that I am. Or maybe I just don’t want to be. I want to want it. I want to feel something, you know? What others feel. I feel like I’m missing out on something, some integral part of being human.”

Again, Dean felt at a loss for words. Cas seemed to sense this and said quickly, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all of that. I just --”

“No, no I’m glad you did. That’s really good to know I just, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to help, but just so you know, we don’t have to be all, you know, touchy or anything. I thought that’s what you wanted…”

“I do!” he said quickly. “That’s the thing, Dean. I want to touch you, and I actually enjoy being near you and holding your hand and kissing you and...everything.” There was a definite smile in his voice.

Dean was thankful for the darkness around them, willing Cas not to look up at him with his headlamp so he wouldn’t see him blushing so fiercely.

“I’ve never been good at pretending that I like physical contact, but I never have to when I’m with you. You’re...different I guess,” Cas finished.

Dean took his hand and squeezed it. “You are so perfect, Cas,” he said quietly.

Now it was Castiel who blushed, “Shut up,” he said playfully. “Let’s go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”

With that, they packed up the stove and tarp, rinsed their dishes, and got ready for bed. Climbing under the sleeping bag, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, pressing his chest close to his back. Dean felt content enough not to mention being made the little spoon.

***

As soon as the sun was up, the two men rose and packed up their camp. The trek back to the car was mostly painless, save for a tumble Dean took down a small hill, the trail muddy from the previous day’s rain. But eventually, they made it back to the parking lot where they’d begun just a few days prior. Stowing their packs in the trunk, Castiel slid into the car beside Dean, who started her up and pulled out into the road.

“Back to the old grind,” Dean sighed.

“We’ve still got all night,” Cas replied, looking out the window. “It’s only five.”

“True. Got any big plans for tomorrow?”

Cas chuckled. “Just making bagels, that’s about it. As usual. You?”

“I’ve got a shipment coming in early. And I’m meeting a couple to discuss arrangements for their wedding next month.”

“Have they requested anything ridiculous?”

“Nah,” Dean shook his head. “Thankfully they’ve only specified they want pink and yellow. I can work with that.”

Within a few hours, they’d made it back to Castiel’s building, and Cas invited him inside.

“I really should go home, man I have to shower.”

Cas jiggled the key in the lock, opening his door. “You could shower here,” he offered.

Dean chuckled. “I’m kinda beat. I was gonna hit the hay early.”

“You could stay here…” he replied sheepishly.

“I can’t wear these clothes to bed. Or to work tomorrow, for that matter.”

Castiel turned to him. “You could borrow mine?”

“Yeah?” Dean smirked.

Cas nodded, leaning closer to him.

“Alright, if you insist.” Dean kissed him softly and followed him inside.

A short while later, Dean found himself snuggled against Castiel, breathing in the smell of him on the soft sheets beneath them. He ran his hand through Cas’ damp hair and smiled as his breathing became slow and steady. Before falling asleep himself, he thought, I am never letting go.