Repair Me | Destiel

Chapter 6

Sunlight speared through a gap in the blinds, landing right on Dean's forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the throbbing in his head. Last night. A jumble of images flickered behind his eyelids - the dimly lit bar, the shared bottle of tequila, Cas's hand tangled in his hair...

His eyes flew open. He wasn't in his own bed. The room was unfamiliar, plastered with faded band posters and overflowing bookshelves. Panic clawed at his throat as he sat bolt upright. Cas' trench coat was draped over a chair in the corner of the room, offering both reassurance and a conformation to his fears.

He scanned the room. Clothes were strewn across the floor - his clothes, and Cas'. A discarded condom wrapper peeked out from under the nightstand. The blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything else. They'd had sex. Dean and Cas. His best friend, the one person he could always confide in, the one person who knew every secret...

He scrambled out of bed, wincing as his head protested. The sheets were tangled around him, revealing a fresh set of hickeys on his shoulder. He yanked on his clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open. Cas stood there, hair a mess, eyes heavy with sleep. He blinked at Dean, then a smile - a slow, painfully slow smile - spread across his face. "Hello, Dean."

Dean wanted to crawl back into bed and disappear. Instead, he blurted, "What did I do last night?"

"Me," The angel responded, until he saw the look on Dean's face.

Cas' smile faltered. "We... we talked. A lot. Tequila was involved." He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm sorry, are you uncomfortable?"

"I gotta go," he choked out, stumbling towards the door. Cas stepped aside, his face unreadable. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

As Dean reached for the doorknob, Cas spoke, his voice low. "Dean, wait."

Dean hesitated, his hand hovering on the metal. He didn't want to talk, didn't know what to say. He couldn't say anything, so he twisted the doorknob and walked out of the room.

°•■•°•■•°•■•°•■•°

Cas sat hunched over a counter lined with chipped Formica, the amber liquid in his glass swirling hypnotically.

Each swallow of bourbon did little to dull the ache in his chest. Dean. The memory of Dean's face, etched with confusion and a flicker of something Cas couldn't quite decipher, replayed on a loop in his mind. Maybe betrayal. Cas felt like he took advantage of Dean. It was a horrible feeling.

His cell vibrated off the hook, but he ignored it, assuming it was just Sam.

Cas ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more habit than anything. His trench coat, usually a source of comfort, felt like a shroud, isolating him from the bar's boisterous energy.

A creak on the barstool beside him drew his attention. A woman, her face painted a little too brightly, leaned in with a suggestive smile. Cas barely registered her words, a polite refusal catching in his throat before it could form. He couldn't deal with human interaction now, not when the one human connection he truly craved lay fractured and bleeding.

Then, the door swung open, a gust of cool night air carrying a familiar scent of leather and a hint of oil. Cas's heart lurched, a flicker of hope warring with dread.

"Whiskey, neat," a gruff voice said, right beside him. Cas finally turned, and there stood Dean, his face etched with a mix of worry and determination.

"Dean," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

Dean's gaze swept across the half-empty bottles, his lips tightening. Cas felt the familiar heat rise in his cheeks, a telltale sign of shame. Just his luck to be caught at his most vulnerable.

Before Cas could stammer out a response, Dean reached out, a firm grip landing on his upper arm. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Cas blinked, confused. "But-"

"No buts," Dean cut him off, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You're attracting too much attention."

It was vague, but Cas got the point. He was jealous.

He tried to pull his arm away, but Dean's grip was surprisingly strong. "I can take care of myself," Cas mumbled, his voice thick with defiance and the remnants of alcohol.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. You look like you could barely stand up straight."

Cas straightened his back, a futile attempt to reclaim some semblance of dignity. "I-"

He practically dragged Cas out of the bar, the door slamming behind them with a sound that resembled the mood between them.

"What, Dean?" Cas hissed, his voice on the verge of being slurred.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. "You were about two tequilas from going somewhere private with a stranger. There were sure enough assholes in there eyeing you up to make it easy."

Cas stared at Dean, his anger giving way to confusion. "Since when are you my keeper?"

"We're going back to the motel, now," Dean ordered, gesturing to an Impala Cas had no idea how he got.

The angel growled under his breath before resentfully getting in the Impala.

°•■•°•■•°•■•°•■•°

Dean sat across from Cas at the motel room table, avoiding eye contact.

A thick silence hung in the air,one that the angel had no interest in cutting. His head hurt, and he was really starting to wish he hadn't had so many shots.

"You in love with me, Cas?" Dean asked, choosing to get straight to the point. The angel didn't respond, still keeping his eyes trained on his hands folded in his lap.

"'Cause, you know, if you are.." Cas looked up, feeling a spark of hope, silently begging him to continue.

"Well, that's the best news I've heard in a long time."

Cas smiled, trying and failing to suppress it by biting his lip.

"Last night didn't ruin anything?" He questioned, concern laced in his voice.

Dean shook his head. "Sam explained. Straightened me out. I'm- I'm sorry I made the fuss that I did. I just-"

"I love you, Dean."

The hunters breath caught in his throat, making it hard to get words out.

"Yeah- I- I love you too, Cas."

Dean leaned over the small table, pressing his lips against Cas' in a brief yet perfect kiss that truly spoke all the words he wished he'd said over the years.