Ready to Fall

Chapter Nine

After their first kiss, it's as if a switch has been flipped, and neither of them can get enough of one another. Dean quickly becomes addicted to the taste of Castiel's mouth, the feel of his hands on Cas' hips, his shoulders, his jaw line. He becomes desperate for the way Castiel melts into him every single time, for the sighs he lets out, like kissing Dean is all he needs to live. But every night, when Castiel's face is pressed between Dean's shoulder blades or buried in his chest, when his best friend's arms are wrapped around him and their legs are tangled together like longtime lovers, he has to remind himself, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, and it hurts in a way Dean doesn’t understand.

His emotions go to war against themselves, one part of him losing himself in the fake relationship he and Castiel have going on, the other angry at having to give it up in a couple of months, and Castiel's advice to relax practically throws itself out the window.

Some days it's not a problem and Dean can save face just fine, but on others he becomes crabby and snappish. For the most part, his family stays out of Dean's way on the bad days, but somehow that feels even worse.

Castiel picks up on Dean's sour moods as well and usually just leaves him be, working in the garden with Mary or shutting himself away to read. But every night, no matter what kind of day they’ve had, he curls himself around Dean and brushes gentle fingers through Dean's hair, or holds him close like he’s telling Dean it's going to be alright without actually saying the words. Dean always falls asleep feeling more comforted and confused than ever.

Of course, the only person to actually say anything about it is Charlie. She shows up one day with a freshly purchased copy of the newly released video game Moondoor Kingdom: The Rise of Moondoor and waves it in Dean's face until he lets her in.

They go down to the den, and as Charlie plops down on the couch to wait while Dean sets up the game she asks, "Where's the BF?"

"Helping mom in the garden," Dean answers over his shoulder. "He loves it out there; I don't even want to know what they talk about while they're out there, though. Probably bees or some shit."

"Or you," Charlie offers.

"Nah," Dean drops a controller into Charlie's lap before settling in next to her and turning on the TV.

"Is everything okay between you two?" Charlie asks. Her voice is quiet but sincere, and Dean knows she means well, but he really doesn't want to talk about it.

"Yeah, everything's great."

Charlie cocks an eyebrow at him. "Dean, when have you ever been able to lie to me and get away with it?" she asks.

Dean lets himself fall back into the couch as he runs a hand through his hair and stares at his controller. She’s right, he's never been able to keep anything from her. "We kissed," he finally reveals. "We've been kissing. A lot."

"I'm still waiting for the bad part," Charlie responds.

"It was my idea," Dean continues, trying to hedge the irritation he's feeling out of his voice. "He'd never kissed anyone before, and I told him if he ever wanted to practice--"

Realization dawns on Charlie's face and her mouth forms a small O. "So you don't know if he's kissing you because he wants to, or because he's trying to perfect his skill."

Dean taps the tip of his nose.

Charlie nods and contemplation settles over her features. "Well," she finally says, "you can do one of two things. You can talk to him and tell him how you feel - and don't try to tell me you don't feel anything for him, because if you do I will tell everyone you acted as my handmaiden at LARP Con last year - or you can stop kissing him. End things. But like I said, Dean, I think he really likes you."

"What if he doesn't?" Dean asks quietly. He can't look Charlie in the eyes, not when he's feeling so vulnerable, so he keeps his eyes trained on his hands.

Charlie slides her hand over and rests it atop one of Dean's. "Then I'll be there with you next year to help pick up the pieces," she answers gently, "and you'll move on, and this whole summer will eventually be just another page in your book."

"I don't want Cas not to be in my life," Dean says.

Charlie offers him a sad smile. "I know." She squeezes his hand and Dean's suddenly insanely grateful for Charlie's friendship and the amount of feelings she forces him to talk about.

"Can we please kick some Shadow Orc ass now?" Dean asks, flashing Charlie a smile.

Charlie smiles back, "Absolutely."

When Charlie leaves a few hours later, Dean is feeling significantly better. He's still pretty certain he's completely fucked, but acknowledging that fact doesn't seem so hard after talking with Charlie.

~

Dean is in the kitchen when Castiel comes in from working in the garden. He's quite the sight, with dirt smudged on his cheek and sweaty hair matted to his temples. He smells of earth, and summer, and wind, and Dean doesn't even hesitate before pulling him in and slotting their lips together. Castiel's mouth is warm, and if held at gunpoint Dean might deny it, but he sighs into his best friend's mouth when Castiel's arms find Dean's waist.

If all of this is going to end, Dean's going to enjoy every last second of it while he can.

When they pull apart Castiel offers him an inquisitive smile. Dean smiles back and brushes his thumb across Cas' cheek.

"You've got dirt on your face," he says.

Castiel touches his cheek where Dean's thumb just was. "Thank you."

"You hungry?" Dean asks. They're still standing just inches apart, their eyes locked on one another, the warmth from Castiel's sun-kissed body seeping beneath Dean's thin cotton tee.

Castiel nods.

"Okay." Dean leans in once more and pecks Castiel's lips, before he steps out of Cas' space and pulls another couple of slices of bread out of the bag.

With Castiel so near and tangible, with the lingering feel of his kiss on Dean's lips, the burgeoning feeling to talk to the other teen about what's going on between them escapes Dean, and he's left with nothing but a happy smile on his face and the thought of maybe tomorrow in his mind.