After a few months passed, Castiel found himself hanging out with Dean a bit more than he'd expected. Dean had gotten word back from his brother, who said he'd started the novel and found it interesting. While Dean was working, Castiel sat at the bar and tried to slow down his drinking a little bit, but being in a bar didn't help any. It just made it harder. Occasionally he would sit at the bar, order a weak drink, and sip it slowly. He would swish it around in the glass most of the time in silence, people watching and trying to imagine new characters. It was difficult.
The only person he found interesting most nights was Dean. He always had a different story about something happening on the streets or in his time working at the bar. Whenever he laughed, Castiel found himself laughing as well, drawn to the joy by Dean's exuberant laugh. He always found his eyes trailing back to Dean, watching him put his all into everything he did, to everyone he met. Often he found himself on the receiving side of a wink as Dean got a break or got off work and made his way out of the bar with a woman on his arm. But, whenever Dean left with a woman on his arm, Castiel found himself with a small, unappealing feeling rushing up his torso and taking rest in his chest. His mood usually went down until he saw Dean next.
That's where he was now.
Castiel stood from his spot at the bar, frown on his lips, hands shoved in his pockets. "Excuse me," he mumbled, having dropped his money on the inside of the bar, on the floor, leaving a note near a bottle of whisky for Dean to see. He left the bar and exited into the cold night, the bite of a soft breeze latching onto his ears. Shivering, he started to walk.
Then he saw movement. Castiel frowned more and looked around, then heard a groan. He looked at the alley beside him and saw a familiar form pressing a woman against the wall. Castiel felt his eyebrows pull together, his head tilting as he squinted.
Then he felt the unappealing feeling grow tenfold and encase his whole being. It was Dean and that woman in the alley...
Castiel started to walk faster, breathing heavy from anger, both at Dean and at himself.
What was this? Why was he angry? All Dean was doing was having sex with some woman. That shouldn't anger Castiel.
Should it?
***
When Dean got back to work, he was disappointed to find Castiel gone. He smirked at the cleverness of Castiel's payment system and picked the money off of the floor, shoving it in the jar he had of money. He only had a few more hours of work, he could text Cas and figure out where he went and if he was coming back.
Dean smiled and flirted with people as usual, becoming confused when he heard a yell and a crash. His eyes scanned the crowd for the conflict before landing on the far corner, where the crowd was backing away. He jumped the bar and pushed his way through the crowd quickly to where two men were wrestling on the floor. He grabbed the shirt and hair of one of them, tugging on the shirt to lift him up and push him against the wall. He looked back up to find two guys holding the other one back. "Guys," he sighed, "this isn't high school. You're probably fighting over some girl, right? Probably her." He gestured toward the woman who was standing, scared, by the overturned table. "Explain."
"He was gettin' with her," the one Dean was not holding spoke. "Fuckin' her without havin' any idea what her name was, or who she belonged to."
"She never told me!"
"You didn't even ask!"
"Whoa!" Dean's hand tightened on the guy's hair to keep him in place. He'd been thrashing and trying to get Dean to let go. "Show's over. You want to fight, go somewhere else. You're both out. Now. The lady can stay, but you asshats are gone. Now, go. Leave."
He escorted them both out to the curb with a small smile, slapping their asses when he let go. "See ya."
***
Castiel was awoken by a pounding on his door at 4 am. He blinked a few times before the pounding continued and forced him to roll up off of the couch and head to the door.
Dean was standing there, rigid as a soldier, and just stared at Castiel for a moment before shaking his head and barging in.
Castiel pulled his robe tighter around him and frowned. "Dean-"
"You need to pack. Do you have a duffle or a suitcase or something?"
"In the closet. What are you- why do I need to pack? Dean, it's four in the morning."
"I know it is. I just got off work, and you need to pack because I said so. God damn it, where is your bag?! There it is!" Dean produced an old black and white duffle bag and threw the first few shirts he grabbed into it, along with a tie or two, and then made his way over to Castiel's dresser. Castiel frowned and walked after him.
"Not those jeans, they don't fit," he commented, too tired to question further. He wiped his eyes. "You want coffee? I need coffee. I'm making coffee now that you're done with my jeans. You packing my tooth brush and shit like that too?"
"Hell yeah," Dean called back. "I'm not putting up with your rank ass breath all the way across the country."
That caught Castiel's attention and woke him up more than any coffee could. "Across the country!? Excuse me? I never agreed to go across the country, Dean! I never even agreed to go with you! When did this agreement take place? I sure as hell wasn't there!" Castiel stomped back to the bathroom, finding Dean shoving toothpaste into his bag. "What the hell, Dean?"
"What? You told me last week you wanted out of this town. You wanted to see the country, visit everywhere! I'm giving you the opportunity on a silver platter."
"B-but- we don't have any plans!"
"Spontaneity, Cas!" Dean laughed as he shoved things further down in the bag to make room for others.
"Spontaneity is right, Dean! What's your problem? Have you finally cracked?" Castiel glared at Dean when he tossed the canvas bag on the couch and moved over to Castiel's computer area. "Dean, explain. I won't go with you until you tell me what made you decide to do this."
"I lost my job, okay?" Dean turned around, slowly coiling up Castiel's laptop charger. "I don't know what the hell I did to lose my fucking job, but I did and it's gone and I want out of this god damn town. It's toxic to everyone in it. I was already considering getting out because some guys proved a point that I haven't even had a fucking thought about and it's a rule I've been breaking for years. So yeah, I want to get out. Now you know the story." Dean eased Castiel's laptop in over the charger, then started to zip the duffle. Castiel stopped him.
"Thank you for telling me, Dean," he mumbled, hand on Dean's. "Now, go make the coffee, I guess. I'll get dressed and ready to go."
"Okay," Dean whispered, eyed falling to the floor. "Okay. I'll make the coffee."
Castiel waited until Dean was in the small kitchen to turn on the lights and dig out his tooth brush.
***
Dean tapped his hand against the steering wheel of his car, cursing the cold of the northeastern early morning. It had hit five when Castiel finally said he was going to be a few more seconds, so Dean had gone down to the car.
He couldn't wait to get out of this damned town. He wished Castiel would hurry up. Dean needed out! He wanted to be gone! Then the passenger door opened and Castiel eased into the seat, tossing his bag into the back with a soft "Hit the road."
Dean registered that he was grinning like a mad man and hit the gas, leaving the parking lot with a screech of tires. He soared through stop signs and maybe even one red light (by accident, of course). With the windows down, both men had windblown, messy hair when Dean finally slowed down near the highway.
He looked over at Castiel, who finally let his hand fall out the open window, like he was expecting to catch a ball or expecting a high five from a passing someone, smile on his lips. "You can choose where we go first. I dragged you into this. Might as well make it enjoyable."
"Just go anywhere. The highway is good right now. Let's go aimlessly until we find somewhere." Castiel looked at Dean, his blue eyes sparkling. It made Dean grin more. "Just drive, man, drive."
"Turn on the cassette player," Dean said, still driving slower than he wanted, "and turn it up. All the way. Think bleeding ear loud!"
Castiel obeyed Dean's orders, turning the dial up as much as he could. The beginning of AC/DC's Back in Black started to blast out of the speakers in the car, Dean tapping out the notes on the wheel as he reached the highway and hit the pedal again, throwing one hand out the window and whooping into the cool, wet Vermont air and abandoning his home of six years in the rearview mirror.
Dean barely heard Castiel's laugh as he began his off-tune rendition with Brian Johnson singing over him.
***
They finally stopped for gas when they reached Bristol, Vermont. Castiel pulled himself out of the car with a grunt, legs wobbly from sitting for about four hours. He leaned against the trunk of the car as Dean filled the tank, looking out over the brick buildings across the street from them and the flourishing green trees in the back of the buildings. It reminded him of home, and how glad he was to be out of there and away from his crappy life, even if he'd escaped with someone he'd only known for a few months.
"You want anything to drink?" he asked Dean, standing fully again. He had to go to the bathroom anyway. "My treat. I'll pick up food during this, okay?"
Dean seemed taken aback. "Okay," he agreed finally, accompanied by a shrug. "Just a Coke."
"Just a Coke," Castiel repeated with a nod. "I'll be back." With that he went into the Gas n' Sip, entering the bathroom with a slight smile. He took care of his bladder and, as he was washing his hands, looked in the mirror.
Somehow, he detected a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. The same light, he supposed, that had been in his chest when they'd taken off at high speed down the highway with classic rock exploding out of the speakers and windows of the black Impala. It had stuck with him all this way, and Castiel figured it would stick with him the whole way. He hoped it did.
After splashing his face with water and drying it and his hands, he exited into the store again. He grabbed a Coke and an iced tea out of the refrigerated section of drinks, paid for them along with a bag of chips, and went back out to the car.
Once back out on the road, on a straight portion, Dean took his hands off of the wheel and opened his soda with a hiss. Castiel reached over and kept the wheel in place as he did so, shooting a glare at his companion, who smiled back.
"C'mon, Cas, Baby can go miles straight without any help. You're offending her!"
"It's impossible to offend a car, Dean. It's an inanimate object."
"It's not impossible! You're the writer, Cas, you know anything can be personified." Dean took a long swig from the bottle and replaced the cap, one hand settling on the wheel again. Castiel smiled appreciatively and took his hand away from the leather.
"I may be a writer, Dean, and I may know that many things can be personified, but it's easier to not grow attached to them. They are inanimate, they cannot return love."
"You can always pretend they do," Dean sighed. "Much easier than humans, at least. You can pretend they love you back, no strings attached, no heartbreak. Treat them however you'd like, too."
Castiel shook his head, sipping his tea. "Whatever you'd like to say and practice... We need more music. Do you have any more tapes?"
"Under the seat. Cardboard box."
Castiel reached down and produced said box, astounded by the vast selection. "Fleetwood Mac? Really, Dean?"
"What? A man can't enjoy his Stevie Nicks?" Dean laughed.
With a laugh Castiel chose to put the tape of The Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street into the player.
