Always Cas | ✔

CHAPTER SEVEN; part two

     When I get off of work Saturday night, Jack is parked outside my house. I've been debating on what to do for the night. I can't decide if I want to risk going to the gym tonight, a risk because Cas could be there, or if I should go for a run, pop some sleeping pills, and call it a night, instead. I promised Olivia I would help her get Cas back, and if that dinner had proven anything, it was that I was doing the opposite.

     "What are you doing here?" I ask as Jack hops out of his car. He's dressed in the tightest jeans I've seen him in since Atlas's birth and a dark crewneck sweater paired with the leather jacket he's never going to get rid of. He looks ready to go somewhere, I'm just not sure where that is.

     "We're going out," he says simply.

     "Out where?" I ask, confused.

     "Into the city."

     I shake my head as we walk inside. "No, no I'm not in the mood for all that."

     "Well get in the mood. Shotgun a beer or take some shots cause that's what we're doing."

     "I'm too old for this, Jack. And you're definitely too old for this."

     "What's that supposed to mean? Is that a snub at me being a dad because I'll have you know, I still got it. I'm the resident dilf."

     "You're the resident something," I mutter.

     "Go shower. I'll walk the dogs and get their food together. Stop looking at me like your nights are not the most uniform routine. Now go."

     It's not how I expected my night to go, but I go anyway.

     It isn't until our uber pulls up outside the venue that I realize Jack's taken us to a gay club. "So this is why you told me to put on my hottest outfit?"

     Jack makes a face. "Why else? I'm not the one on the prowl, here. I have a wife. And it was so much easier getting out of the house when I told her we'd be at a gay bar tonight."

     I turn in my seat to stare at him. "I'm not on the prowl."

     "Well, you should be. Now get out cause you're racking up this uber cost."

     I climb out reluctantly and Jack rounds the car, coming to a halt beside me on the sidewalk. The building looks like most city buildings, brick with metal scaffolding over the entrance from construction going on next door. There's a line to get in and Jack pushes me towards it. It's a cool night, damp too, but I don't feel it thanks to the whiskey Jack and I were drinking before we left.

     He reaches over suddenly and undoes a few buttons on my shirt. I swat his hands away. "You got all those tattoos, might as well show them off."

     "What are we doing here, Jack?"

     Jack breathes loudly. "Can you just try to have some fun tonight? At the very least, we drink, we dance, we burn some calories. But if you happen to see a cute little Twink, go for it, bro."

     "What makes you think Twink is my type?"

     "You forget that I knew Weston just as much as you did." I give him a look. He holds up his hands. "Okay, maybe not just as much. But between Weston and Sumner, you've definitely got a type."

     "And what's that? Bad for me?"

     Jack looks down, muttering, "You said it, not me."

     This isn't the first time Jack and I have gone out clubbing and it's actually not the first time we've done it at a gay bar, either. The first time Jack suggested it, before he was seeing Jasmine and was still in his serial hook-up phase, I was so surprised I actually couldn't hide it. 

     "What? I'm secure," Jack had said. And he is.

     Stepping inside feels like stepping into a sauna. There's smoke machines that make it damp and hazy and the flashing strobe lights show you just enough to light your path and reflect off of all the metallic spandex. There's a lot of metallic spandex. Right at the entrance is a pedestal with two dancers, wearing shiny gold g-strings and dancing with enough hip thrusts to get somebody pregnant.

     "Drinks!" Jack says over the thumping techno. I follow him to the bar where he orders us three rounds of shots. That's how I know he's trying to get me drunk.

     "It's just to loosen you up," he says when I eye him wearily.

     I take the shot, shrugging. "Let's get drunk, Jack."

     "Really?" he asks surprised.

     "Why not?"

     After Jack and I have sufficiently drank our tolerance levels into the ground, we go upstairs where the dance floor is packed with nearly-naked bodies.

     It's too hot for real clothes in here. Even with the dampness from the smoke machines, it's hot. Or maybe it's just the alcohol but halfway into dancing, I can't stand it and take my shirt off.

     Jack cracks a smile, then dips his head close to my ear. "Do you think they think I'm your partner? 'Cause I can make myself scarce."

     I shake my head. "Nobody in this room thinks you're gay, Jack."

     "Okay, well, why aren't men climbing you like a damn tree, then? 'Cause the shirtless-ness should've did them in."

     In a sense, Jack is right. But the few men I've made eye contact with I've also glared at heavily. Jack's drunk so he hasn't really noticed. When I'd gone to grab us drinks, someone else had paid for them. Cute guy, tall with dark hair and a strong stare. I glared at him, too.

     Jack has stopped dancing, staring at my chest like he hasn't seen these exact tattoos a thousand times before. That's about all the warning I get before he vomits on the floor. He's been out of the game for a while, so I don't blame him.

     I place a hand on his back, leading him towards the bathrooms.

     He grunts. "Shit, I'm sorry."

     "All good." I chuckle.

     He expels the rest of the liquor in the bathroom. Listening to him, I have to take a few deep breaths to keep myself from vomiting. I didn't realize just how drunk I am until I stopped moving. I splash some water on my face and then put my shirt back on.

     When Jack's done, I take him back downstairs and out onto the street. "Oh, we don't have to leave," he says but he looks like he's near passing out so we definitely do.

     "Let's go get some food."

     We walk about a block away and stop inside a pizzeria. I push Jack into a seat and then go up to order us some slices and grab some ginger ales.

     "I'm sorry I ruined the night," Jack says.

     I shake my head. "You didn't. It was just what I needed."

     And it's true. A whole night spent not thinking about Cas.

     "I just wanted you to have some fun," he responds. He's still drunk, apparently. I am, too, I think. "I want you to be happy dude."

     "I am happy," I tell him.

     "You haven't been happy for a long time."

     I make a face. "Eat your pizza, Jack."

     He does and then he knocks out, falling asleep with his face planted against the table. I'm eating my slice slowly, dozing off as I do. The pizza is sobering but not by much. I probably need to vomit, too.

     My phone starts ringing and when I pick up, it's Cas's voice that comes through.

     "I want to know why," he says. "I want to know why you left and why you lied about it."