Uncle Cas

You turned out the lights

You turned out the lights

Castiel tossed and turned in his bed, sleep eluding him even at this hour. He sighed heavily and stared at the clock. He hated his life.

Dean had been avoiding him ever since his birthday over a year ago and Castiel guessed he couldn't blame him. He hadn't been very present himself since that fateful day. He and John had actually been on pretty good terms, even as they had woken up the next day and remembered everything. Every touch, every stroke and definitely the way Castiel had looked as he had slid to the floor and sucked John down his throat.

They had not really talked about it and it hadn't repeated itself — which it shouldn't — but they had been spending a lot of time together and that had actually been pretty nice. Them getting together like in the old days; it was as if this new incident had erased everything bad about the old one.

So that was good. Dean, however...

Castiel had reacted to him and John doing... that and to Dean doing what he did by fleeing to LA, staying there almost three whole months before daring to come crawling back. That was when he had discovered two things. One, John and he were better than ever and two, Dean and he were at their absolute worst.

The teen would be moody when Castiel was around and he refused to spend even a couple of moments alone with his uncle. It wasn't so noticeable that the rest of the family saw it but to Castiel it was painfully easy to see.

He still felt bad about how he had handled the kissing and he had a nagging feeling that his incident with John in the kitchen should make him feel bad about Dean as well but he couldn't remember why, whisky and time having conveniently numbed his memories.

Since Dean had refused to talk to Castiel, even on the phone, Castiel had resorted to doing what he did best: flee, again. This last year he had spent more time in LA than Lawrence, so much so that his boss Nora had asked if he was finally gearing up to ask for that transfer. Castiel honestly thought about it but couldn't make up his mind.

He had wronged Dean but the teen refused to let him apologize, maybe time apart would do them good? Dean would at least get a chance to cool down and maybe they could talk about what the problem really was. He was certain there must been something else rather than just puberty leading up to the youth's behavior and he wanted to help. Until Dean decided to talk to him however, he would do nothing good here, moping around.

Still, his relationship with John was at its peak since their break-up 16 years ago and he didn't want to miss out on that.

Castiel sighed as the alarm clock switched from 01:47 to 01:48. Was he just being selfish? Should he just move? Was he being cowardly? And if so, what was he fearing? Should he maybe force Dean into a talk?

The kid obviously thought he was adult enough, maybe it was time he started acting it too. Christ, it had already been over a year and even though Castiel had been absent most of it there was no reason Dean couldn't have called him.

As if answering his prayers, his phone started buzzing.

Castiel turned, confused, and flailed a bit before reaching it on his bedside table. He answered at once at the sight of the caller ID.

"Dean?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Hiya Cassie." Dean slurred, obviously drunk.

Castiel frowned and sat up on the edge of bed. "What's wrong?" aside from the boy being drunk at two in the morning and this being the first time they'd properly talked in a year, that was.

"Sssccch!" Dean shushed loudly and Castiel had to tear the phone away from his ear. "I'm on the phone."

Castiel sighed when he realized Dean was talking to one of the loud mouths he could hear in the background.