It's Complicated

Chapter Seven

The next morning Dean finds out two things about Castiel. One, he has no reservations about walking around Dean's house in his underwear (which Dean doesn't either, but he's pleasantly surprised to find he has this in common with Castiel), and two, his scowl before he's got a cup of coffee in him is enough to put the fear of God in Dean.

"Not a morning person, huh?" Dean asks around a chuckle when Castiel shuffles into the kitchen, his eyes still blinking open and his hair sticking up in every which way.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Castiel growls, reaching for the mug in Dean's hands and tugging it out of his grasp. He takes a swallow of the bitter liquid while Dean watches, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he processes the loss of his coffee. "No milk?"Castiel asks.

"I'm sorry, your majesty, I didn't know you'd want milk in my coffee," Dean mutters as he digs the milk out of the fridge. Castiel holds the mug out, and Dean pours until Castiel tells him to stop.

"You sleep okay?" Dean wonders, pulling another mug down from the cupboard and pouring himself a second cup of coffee.

A light smile plays at Castiel's lips now as he stares down into his mug, and he nods. "Yes, thank you."

Dean smiles back. "Awesome."

It's quiet for a moment as they drink their coffee, stealing fleeting glances over the edges of their mugs, and Dean wonders briefly what's supposed to happen next. "You want something to eat?" he asks.

"I'd like to shower first, if that's alright."

"Yeah, sure. It's in my room. You need help with anything?"

"I assure you I know how to shower, Dean." Castiel responds with a smirk.

Dean's cheeks heat as he barks a nervous laugh. "So not what I meant."

"I'm sure it isn't." Castiel puts his mug in the sink and saunters off towards Dean's bedroom.

"Towels are under the sink!" Dean shouts after him. Castiel raises a hand in the air, and then he disappears around the corner. Dean shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile. Apparently Castiel comes with a hefty supply of sass.

When Castiel pads out of Dean's room, his hair is still wet, ends sticking out like a patch of weeds, and he's in a pair of jeans just a little too big to be his own and one of Dean's old band tees.

"Looks like you found everything okay," Dean says, his chest tightening at the sight of Castiel in his clothes.

"I did, thank you."

Dean pulls his skillet from the stovetop and holds it up. "Breakfast?"

Castiel nods, and Dean leads the way to the table.

"So," Dean says around a mouthful of eggs. "What do you think about me updating the bookshelves at Stacks?"

Castiel pushes his second helping of potatoes around on his plate, mulling over Dean's words. "I'm reluctant to do anything that takes away from the original state of the store," he explains.

"Alright, I can understand that. What if I just fix up the existing ones? Y'know so they don't topple over on someone's head. Think of it as a safety upgrade."

"That might be alright," Castiel agrees, "if you really think they need it."

Dean's brain flits back to his first visit to Stacks; the rickety tables barely standing well enough to hold books, the dilapidated bookshelves with warped shelves. "Trust me," he says, "they need it.”

"Tomorrow then," Castiel offers.

Dean nods. "I'll be there."

Castiel remains at Dean's for most of the day, leaving only when the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Dean assures him he doesn't have to leave, but Castiel just offers him a warm smile and a shake of his head. "I need to feed Bumblebee and follow up on a few things at the store. But, thank you, Dean."

"Are you sure I can't at least take you home?" Dean asks as they stand in his doorway, the cab Castiel called minutes before idling at the curb.

Castiel smiles and presses his lips against Dean's. "I'm sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean toys with the hem of the t-shirt Castiel borrowed, slipping his thumb underneath and swiping it across Castiel's warm hip. "Tomorrow," he repeats. He accepts one final kiss from the other man and then watches as Castiel makes his way down Dean's walk and climbs into the cab.

Shortly after Castiel leaves, Sam arrives with pizza. He originally came to watch the Jayhawks game, but so far all he's done is yap at Dean about a new girl in the office, Jess, who's smart and sassy, and apparently everything Sam's ever wanted in a woman, but she won't give him the time of day. Dean only half listens, his mind stuck on Castiel and where their relationship is headed. Facebook may have gotten a few things right with their relationship status options; ‘It's Complicated’ is about the only way Dean could accurately describe what's going on between him and the quirky bookstore owner, but he's growing to really despise those two words.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Dean finally blurts, cutting Sam off mid-sentence. Dean feels bad not listening to the kid, he really does, but there are too many questions taking up space in his brain; he has to let some of them out before he explodes.

Sam stares at Dean, a slice of pizza midway to his mouth. "What the hell are you supposed to do about what?" he asks.

Dean sighs, tossing his napkin onto the table and staring down at the melted cheese oozing off his pizza in strings. "About Cas," he mumbles.

Sam puts his pizza back on his plate and wipes his fingers on his napkin before crossing his arms over the table and fixing Dean with an inquiring stare. "Dean, what's going on?" he asks.

"I don't know, Sammy, I really don't. I can't stop thinking about him. I want to be around him all the time. He makes me feel like this whole other person, but still myself? Like apparently I drink tea now, and I discuss books, and go to farmer's markets and shit. But, this all feels so out of my league that I'm about ten seconds away from just walking and never seeing the guy again."

"Dean, that doesn't make any sense."

Dean's hands fly up in the air, and he lets out a frustrated, "I know!"

Sam sighs, his expression filling with concern. "Why are you two having such a hard time establishing the fact that you're in a relationship? Or that you want to be in a relationship? You like him, he likes you what's so hard about that?"

"I don't know, maybe because I've never dated a guy before? Or, anyone really? I don't do relationships, Sammy. So how am I supposed to know when I'm in one?"

"Dean, I think the best thing for you to do at this point is just talk to Cas." Sam's voice is quiet when he speaks, just sympathetic enough to make Dean feel like an idiot for saying anything in the first place. Sam means well, he knows that, but Dean's mantra is to keep everything inside and let it work itself out. This is beyond what he's used to dealing with.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean agrees.

Sam stands from the table. As he walks past Dean on his way to the kitchen, he stops to squeeze Dean's shoulder. "You can do this, Dean. It's not as tough as it sounds." He pauses, probably giving time for Dean to process, and then asks, "You want another beer?"

Dean nods, and Sam leaves the room. The thing Dean hates most about their talk is the fact that he knows Sam is right. Dean needs to talk to Cas.