Young and Beautiful [A Destiel Fanfic]

Chapter 4: The Book

The next day, Cas got to the diner bright and early, the book in tow. His copy of Wuthering Heights was old—the same one he had in high school. It was well-preserved, but also very clearly used often. The pages were not exactly crisp and new anymore, and the paperback cover had more than a few folds and tears in it. Along the margins of the text, Cas had scribbled little notes for class in faded, blue ink. There were a few spots where Cas had written in other notes and comments during other reads—these were usually in black or pencil. One thing was for certain, Dean was going to have quite the experience reading this book, and he'd probably learn a little more about Cas along the way.

Morning came and went, and there was no sign of Dean. A wide range of emotions passed through Cas during that time. Fear—maybe something had happened to him? Self-loathing—he was stupid to think someone as handsome as Dean could be interested in him. Hope—maybe Dean just woke up late and didn't have time to get breakfast? Despair—Dean probably forgot about him anyway.

When the breakfast rush ended, Cas had some down time. Hannah was working again, and she volunteered to wipe down the tables and put out silverware. So, Cas leaned against the counter and paged through Wuthering Heights. He skimmed most of it, but stopped to read his favorite parts. Whenever he got to the parts of Heathcliff and Catherine, he imagined himself as the dark-haired gypsy boy, and Dean as the fair Catherine. "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same," Cas murmured the quote to himself. Of course, that would never be him and Dean. They were too different. You're a foolish man, Castiel—to think that Dean could ever be with you.

"Are you reading that blasted book again for the millionth time?"

Cas turned to see Chuck Shurley poking his head through the window to the kitchens. "You know, you've read that book so many times, and said so many of its lines out loud, I'd be surprised if I didn't know the whole thing by heart at this point."

The younger man blushed. He tucked the book away behind the cash register. "I was actually going to give it to someone today," he confessed.

"Oh, that blond guy Gabe keeps telling me about?"

Cas spluttered. "Wh—What?"

A smile crept onto Chuck's face as he observed the waiter's clear discomfort. "Yeah, he told me everything."

His throat went dry. "Everything?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chuck nodded his head slowly. "Everything."

Cas put his head in his hands.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," the chef soothed. "I've had a few awkward... situations like that. Did I ever tell you about the time I wrote those books? Supernatural, that's what they were called. I had this one fan named Becky—she was so beautiful, but she hardly noticed me. Then, one day, boom. All of a sudden, she realized I'd been there right in front of her face... Of course, that didn't last long. She was... well... Have you ever read Misery by Stephen King?"

The waiter gave a nod, peeking up from his hands.

"Well... Becky was like that psychotic 'number one fan' and tried to make me rewrite the last few books so everyone would live. I don't let people live—that's not my style, you know?" Chuck continued to prattle on about Becky and his books. Cas only half-listened. He had read a few of Chuck's later books—he remembered a man in the novel, a hunter, named Jensen. He kind of looked like Dean. And then there was the angel—Misha—that followed him around and the two ended up falling in love. It wasn't some grand, romantic epic like Wuthering Heights. It was more of a soft, subtle love that they had. Each relied on the other and was always there. That's what Cas wanted. Maybe... maybe I could have that with Dean...?