Dean Winchester Is A Gay Virgin (Destiel)

Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Dean

The next day, Dean checks his phone as often as humanly possible for as many reasons he can think of: he wants to check the time, see if Sammy texted him, look at the most recent MLB scores, check Facebook—not that he ever has anything to check on Facebook, having only a handful of friends on it in the first place.

He absolutely refuses to admit that he's waiting for Castiel to text him, and because of this, he also refuses to admit why he feels more and more disappointed as his long Saturday drags on, textless.

After practice, he heads to the shop. Halfway through his shift, Bobby shouts at him, "Boy, if you don't get off that damn phone, I'll chuck it at a gor-damn wall."

"Sorry, Bobby," Dean mumbles, shoving his cell phone in his pocket and bending over the engine of a Corolla.

"The hell is so important anyway?" Bobby asks, opening a can of pop and meandering over to him.

"Nothing," Dean says. "Checking, um... my email... to see if my grades have been posted."

Bobby nods, looking over the engine. "Well, just be patient. They're not gonna change between the time you see 'em here and when you get home."

"Sure thing, Bobby," Dean replies, and hopes Bobby doesn't notice the sadness in his voice.

***

When Dean gets home, Sammy has dinner waiting for him. Their dad is off doing God-knows-what, and Sam knows Dean's Saturdays are always so crazy that Dean doesn't usually have time to eat.

Dean walks inside and smells mac 'n cheese cooking, just the way he likes it, with bacon on top and garlic bread on the side.

They live in a small house on the edge of the bad part of town. The house is a century old and a bit run-down, but Dean uses what little spare time he has to fix it up as best he can. It's livable. It's home.

The Winchesters are not men of many words, but damn if they aren't efficient. Dean and Sam take turns making dinner and grocery shopping. Sam pays the bills. Dean fixes up the house. John brings home his fair share of money and isn't around a whole lot. He's usually off gambling away what little money he has to spare, drinking, going to strip clubs; wherever his tortured, flighty soul takes him. Despite his overall absence, Dean has no current complaints about him. He comes to every single baseball game, he got Dean his job at the shop, and he's always done what was needed to make sure Dean and Sam have a roof over their heads and food in their mouths.

Their family isn't the most traditional, but it's the hand Dean has been dealt, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Dean breathes in deeply when he walks inside the little house. "Hey, Sammy. Smells great."

Sam is at the oven, looming over it because he shot up in height a couple years ago and now the guy is just a long stick of awkward, gangly limbs. He's stirring a big pot of noodles, and says, "Food's up in a few."

"Awesome," Dean replies. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

His hand twitches out of habit to reach for his phone, but he's covered in motor oil so he waits until he scrubs his hands clean before touching his phone.

When he dries off his hands, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks his text messages.

His heart sinks. Again. For the millionth time that day.

Maybe the connection he felt with Cas was completely wrong. Maybe Cas is just really friendly to everyone. Even so, if Cas does on the off-chance like him back, he seems to have a thing with Dick, and Dean can't date anyway without rustling up a shit storm that he would rather avoid.