tea please☼ destiel au

xxiii.

thursday morning, november 10, 1967.

it had been two weeks since ruby's heartbreaking visit. two weeks since the phone call that changed castiel's mindset in ways the attack hadn't even managed. he realized many things after that night and -now that he was home finishing his healing process- he decided he needed to begin moving on. after all, nothing good lasts forever.

gabriel made himself at home while cas was in the hospital, practically moving in with the amount of belongings he managed to accumulate in just a couple weeks time. he never ceased to amaze his brother. ruby was always visiting, using castiel's injuries as a reason to leave her once occupied home. bobby made some use of him, allowing him to help out at the shop since ellen banned him from going back to that horrid gas station. sam wrote letter after letter, describing what it was like to be behind an operation- without giving away the key details of course. everything was sewing itself back together it seemed.

•

"boy, what do you think you're doing'?!" bobby shouted, pulling cas out from under a truck by his ankles.

castiel laughed graciously, his eyes shutting as his nose crinkled, a loud, unfamiliar sound coming from his mouth- it'd been forever since he'd laughed like that.

he pushed himself up off the pavement of the garage floor, wiping his brow only to smear grease everywhere. the thick texture was obvious against his skin, but he didn't mind it anymore. if anything, it made him feel a fifth more normal. his abdomen was bandaged under his tank top, the pressure easing the dulling pain of his ribs as he attempted to work his ass off every minute he could: the work distracted him.

bobby whipped his hat off, swatting cas on the back of his head with it before telling him -as if he didn't already know-, "do you know how stupid you are? you're fresh outta the hospital! when i gave you this job i didn't say go throw yourself under cars- i said man the register!"

the young man knew better than to roll his eyes at his superior, because it didn't matter how old he was, bobby would beat him into next week. instead he sighed, looking at the greying man with self pity. he knew his tactic wouldn't work, that he needed to explain himself, but at least the old man's complaining would give him time to think of how to word his excuse.

"well? what do you have to say? spit it out, son!"

     "it's all busy work, bobby. i just need... i need something more distracting than counting exact change," he sighed out truthfully, his heavy head falling down as his dull ocean eyes stared at the ground solemnly.

      castiel knew the old man would raise hell if he found out he was doing such labor, but he prayed bobby would understand: he prayed bobby would let it slide and allow him to work despite his injuries. to cas, his life was worth giving if it meant he died not thinking about dean winchester.

     the name still burned, like straight whiskey from the bottle. every time those forestry eyes and sandy hair came to mind, cas could feel his skin itch and crawl under his clothes, almost as if his skeleton was trying to pry itself from his body.

"alright, fine. fine! but don't go screwing around and getting yourself hurt!" bobby relented, pointing at the young man sternly but all out of love.

cas nodded, sighing in relief as his boss walked out of the garage in a fussy manner: bobby singer hated being guilt tripped.

with no more distractions, castiel laid his body on the ground, scooting himself under the 62' muscle car so he could continue his work. the under workings were complex with tubes and machinery intertwined like lovers' legs.