Bouquet

Chapter Eleven

Cas was woken up in the middle of the night by a loud ringing. He groaned, fumbling for his phone, which he had left on the nightstand. It was about three in the morning. Why would anyone be calling him then?

Most likely it was just a scammer. He would turn off his ringer, roll over, and fall back asleep.

Cas' hand closed around his phone and he held it up, squinting tiredly at the bright screen.

Call from Dean

Dean wouldn't call him at this time, would he? Unless- there was a spark of fear- something had happened.

Cas did his best tamper down the spark before it became a blaze, and answered the call.

"Dean? Dean, are you okay?"

Dean's voice was shaky on the other end of the phone. "I screwed up, Cas. I- shit, I screwed up so badly."

This was doing nothing to ease Cas' worry.

"What happened?"

"I called Sam," Dean said. "I was drunk and thought that if Sam knew I wasn't straight then I wouldn't have to worry about him finding out when he came, so I called and- fuck. I told him, point blank told him, and then hung up."

"Has he tried calling you back? Or texting you?"

"No. Dammit, Cas, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

He sounded so small and afraid. Cas hated it. Dean shouldn't have to feel like that.

The words were out of his mouth before he fully realized what he was saying.

"Just stay there, Dean. I'm going to come over, okay? Don't drink any more alcohol. Have some water, you're probably dehydrated. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Cas ended the call, felt his way to the apartment door, pulled on his trench coat, and hurried down the stairs and to the street. The keys to his Lincoln were accessible in his pocket.

Cas drove a little bit over the speed limit as he raced through the dim streets of Sioux Falls. He knew Dean wouldn't do anything stupid right now- nothing dangerously stupid, at least- but it didn't mean he was going to leave him there alone to agonize over what had happened. Not for any longer than it took to get there, which was still too long.

Less than ten minutes after the car had sputtered to life, Castiel was pulling onto the street with Dean's apartment. Since they had seen Star Wars, he had been there once, but he remembered where it was.

Dean was waiting in the front hall, and when Cas came in, he collapsed against him, letting Cas simply hold him tightly. Cas could feel, from the way Dean melted into him, the tension in his body dissipating, how upset he was. How terrified he was that his spur of the moment, drunk decision, that this was going to estrange him from his brother.

"It's going to be alright," Cas said quietly.

Dean buried his face deeper into his shoulder.

They stood like that, Dean leaning against Cas, enveloped in his arms, for a long while.

"Probably should head upstairs," Dean mumbled into the trench coat.

Neither of them moved.

Eventually, Dean pulled away reluctantly. "Sorry for getting your coat wet."

Cas looked down. The fabric where Dean's face had been nestled on his shoulder was damp.

"It's fine," he said.