Dear Addiction

Chapter Fifty Three

The rain pounded against the car. Each splatter seemed to echo through the small space. It came in sheets rather than drops, leaving the world a grey blur, with only the occasional street light managing to break through. It casted them in the shadows, making the already dark car more somber than ever. LA seemed darker than New York, despite all the billboards and neon signs. The light was always fake. The sun rarely came out.

Cas shifted in his spot, the leather seats cold against his skin. The car's back seats were built to face one another, with himself facing forward, while Dean and Crowley sat across from him, both with their phones out.

The silence wasn't new. Dean hadn't talked to him all day. Hadn't met his eyes. They hadn't even been in the same room since breakfast, when Dean made a vague complaint about having to see a psychiatrist on his birthday.

It's because Dean was nervous.

Or at least that's what Cas told himself. Over and over. He couldn't remember any mistakes he'd made, or any reason for Dean to be mad at him. He replayed the week over and over in his head, analyzing every word he'd said and every mistake he'd made. Trying to decide when he'd let things shatter, and anticipate when the bruise would come. It always did, even if Castiel wasn't certain about what he had done wrong.

He shifted Jack, who was fast asleep in his arms, and rested his head against the seat's headrest. Through the storm a single drop managed to form against the window.

"Please, do not make this any more difficult than it needs to be," Crowley said, his voice echoing through the small space. "The poor doctor already has the misfortune of having to work with you."

"I'm a pleasure to be around," Dean replied, his voice distant.

"I'd beg to differ."

"I told ya I didn't need a chaperone."

Crowley sighed and the small rain drop began rolling down the glass.

The car pulled up to the curb, and Dean undid his seat belt and opened the door. The smell of rain filled the car. "Dean," Crowley said. The drop hit the window sill and faded, the evidence that it ever excited being the small trail it left behind, though even that would be lost to the storm. "All I ask is that you try to take this seriously."

"When don't I?"

Cas turned his head, meeting Dan's gaze. He wasn't exactly smiling, but the corner of his lip was tugged up and at that moment it was something. Like the beginning of sunrise. When shades of gold and pink tainted the night sky.

"We're still getting dinner after?" Dean asked, and Cas gave a small nod. "Awesome."

And without another word Dean turned, the car door slamming behind.

They found a coffee shop a few blocks away; its windows large and filled with plants, while bistro lights strung across the ceiling. The smell of coffee was thick in the air. It was the kind that could be found on every LA block. They ordered their drinks then took a seat at one of the empty tables, Castiel sat so he could see the windows and continue to watch as the rain fell. It casted the world in silence as everyone waited. For their coffee. For their shift to be over. For the rain to end.

Castiel wrapped his fingers around the mug, the hot water sitting still in the glass. It was slowly becoming green as the tea bag gradually seeped, darker shades trickling into the lighter. Still, it wasn't fast enough. No matter how many times he stirred the drink, or fiddled with the tea bag, it seeped at its own pace. Its own, slow, drawn out pace.

Was it the same for Dean?

Was each tick of the clock drawn out as he sat in the waiting room. Could he feel each beat of his heart. Each rise and fall of his chest. Did it seem as if time itself had stopped?