Wayward - [A Destiel AU]

Chapter 3

Cas stayed at Dean’s house for the rest of the day, and most of Sunday too. Sam came back, with Jess clinging to his arm as if afraid she might fall off. He threw Cas a wolfish grin, not unlike the ones Cas usually got from his older brother, and said ‘How long have you been here?’

Cas shrugged. ‘A while.’

‘And… you didn’t get up to anything nasty?’

Everyone in the room paused for a minute, as Cas darted a glance at Dean, who was going beet red. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway, Samsquatch?’

‘It’s Sam.’

‘It’s Getoutofmyroom.’

‘I’m not in your room! We’re in the living room!’

‘Fine!’ Dean gave up with a sigh. ‘Leave me alone then!’ he threw a blue couch pillow at the offender, who ducked and it hit the wall behind him.

Sam smiled at Cas. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ he winked, and left the room with a smirking Jess.

Dean groaned and slumped further into his chair after Sam left. ‘If we’re going by that, it means we can’t do anything. Like seriously, we can study, and we can eat rabbit food. That’s literally it.’

Cas grinned again. ‘Your brother is so weird.’

Dean rolled his eyes, walking over to pick up the guitar leaning by Cas’ chair. ‘You’re telling me.’

Cas pondered over what Sam could have meant. Did that mean he thought Cas was gay? Or maybe Dean was. Was he? Cas felt a little prickle of hope, mixed with betrayal. Dean had been his best friend since they were both small. Surely he would tell Cas something as important as that?

But then again… if Dean was gay, and Sam knew about it – could that really happen? Hypothetically speaking, of course – Cas corrected himself – if Dean were gay then maybe this could work. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

(A.N: I know Castiel did not write this song, nor did Misha Collins. I just really wanted Cas to have written this song for Dean. All credits go to Michael Bublé and any other writers of the song.)

The soft sound of a strumming guitar brought him back to the present, along with Dean’s amused stare. Dean was curled up in his comfy chair, entwined around the guitar, smirking at Cas. He shot Dean a confused look, before he raised one eyebrow. ‘You right?’

‘Huh?’

‘You were making weird faces. I think you were thinking too hard.’ He replied.