Chalk & Chainmail

Chapter 11

When Dean dropped Castiel off at his house after school, he did not expect to be invited inside. But when Castiel opened the car door and then slowly turned back and asked shyly, "Would you like to come in?", Dean didn't even need to think twice about turning off the Impala and jumping out.

He followed Castiel inside, trailed him up the stairs and into Castiel's bedroom. As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Dean had Castiel crowded up against it, kissing him and pushing himself firmly against Castiel.

Castiel kissed back for a few moments before gently pushing Dean away. "Dean," he said as Dean moved his lips to the lightly stubbled underside of Castiel's jaw.

"Mmmm?"

"Dean, I want to give you something," Castiel tried to explain, his brain a little foggy from Dean's lips on his skin. As good as Dean's ministrations felt, and as much as Castiel wanted them, he'd asked Dean in for a reason, and it was important enough to him to hold off on the physical contact for a few minutes.

Dean continued kissing at Castiel's jaw and neck, and so Castiel pushed at Dean's shoulders again until the other boy looked at him.

"Please, Dean, it's—" he paused, his nerves coming alive beneath him with Dean's green eyes fixed solely on him, "it's important." He finally stated.

Dean smiled and placed a gentle kiss to Castiel's lips before saying, "Okay."

Castiel offered Dean a small smile before instructing him to sit on the bed. Dean obeyed and Castiel went to digging through a drawer in his desk before producing a spiral bound sketchbook. He clutched it to his chest protectively and joined Dean on the bed.

They sat across from each other with their legs folded up underneath them, and Dean kept half a smile on his face as he watched Castiel fidget under his gaze, toying with the spiral of the sketchbook. Finally, he held it out to Dean, his eyes trained carefully on the cover. "I want you to have this," he explained.

Dean took the sketchbook, his eyes filling with disbelief, and his face falling to a frown. "Cas, are you sure? I know your art is private to you."

Castiel nodded. "I always meant for it to be for you," he answered.

Dean ran his fingers respectfully across the cover and looked back up to Cas, "Can I look inside?" he asked.

Castiel huffed a laugh before responding, "Of course, Dean."

Dean flipped the sketchbook open. The first page was a drawing of Castiel's house, with Castiel's eleven-year-old scrawl at the top of the page reading, New House, Lawrence, Kansas. Dean looked up at Castiel, his eyes wide and questioning. "Is this from that summer?" he asked.

Castiel nodded, and Dean smiled at him. He moved himself to sit up against the wall and tugged Castiel up next to him so they could look at the pages together. As Dean flipped through sketches of him and Castiel together, park swings, and video game controllers, Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, still feeling nervous at having exposed himself so freely to Dean. Along with most of the sketches were Castiel's thoughts scribbled somewhere on the page. Notes of what that summer was like for Castiel. Some of it was meaningless, like a reminder to himself not to eat red popsicles around Dean because he'll laugh at the red ring around your mouth written on a sketch of a melting popsicle and Dean's head thrown back in laughter. Dean chuckled at some of the more frivolous notes that were similar to that one, but when he found a page with his own smiling face sketched onto it and the words, Dean Winchester may be the best thing that's ever happened to me written below, Dean turned his head to look at Castiel.

Castiel lifted his head from Dean's shoulder and stared back at him. "I still feel that way," he admitted quietly.

Dean reached across and intertwined their fingers and raised their conjoined hands to drop a soft kiss to Castiel's knuckles before asking, "Then why did you push me away?" It was probably the wrong question to ask, especially since he and Cas finally seemed to be getting things right for a change and everything was so brand new, but Dean had to know. If Castiel had felt so deeply for him why had he pushed Dean out of his life? He prepared himself for Castiel not to answer or to pull away, take the sketchbook back and ask Dean to leave, but he did none of those things. Instead he reached over and flipped to the last fully used page of the notebook.

"You haven't reached the end yet," he stated.

Dean looked down to the page. No drawings were there only words written in a fine tipped Sharpie.

Father said I'm not to speak to Dean ever again. He said our friendship is not appropriate and that Dean is a waste of time. I didn't feel as if I was doing anything wrong by being Dean's friend, but after what father said, I feel ashamed of myself. Maybe he is right. Perhaps my feelings towards Dean were inappropriate. When I told him to go away he probably realized how uncomfortable I made him feel all the time and was probably relieved to no longer have to be around me. It makes sense now as to why he walked away so easily. He realized I'm worthless because I haven't made anything of myself yet. Just like father always says.

The words continued, Father also threw my scketchbookaway. Anna stole it back for me, but I don't feel like sketching anymore.

I miss Dean.

On the pages that followed there were only faint lines and scribbles, beginnings of sketches left unfinished and the words over and over again, I miss Dean.

Dean closed the sketchbook and looked over at Castiel whose face was solemn and unsure. Dean's heart had clenched so tight he felt it might stop pumping, and his stomach was uneasy, rolling with anger at Castiel's father, sadness for eleven-year-old Castiel, and irritation at himself for never having wondered how their falling out had affected Castiel. Wrapping a hand around the back of Castiel's neck, Dean fixed their eyes together.

"I have never thought you were worthless," he growled, pushing down as best he could all the emotions that were stirring up inside of him, "or inappropriate. And you never made me feel uncomfortable for the way you were when we were kids. Do you understand me?"

Castiel nodded, and Dean pushed him down onto the bed then, straddling Castiel's hips and pushing at his shoulders to hold him in place. They stared at each other for no short amount of time before Dean bent down and began to kiss his devotion into Castiel's skin.

"I loved you, then," he murmured against Castiel's neck before moving to drop a kiss on his nose and then nuzzle his cheek, "and I love you now." He removed his hands from Castiel's shoulders and pushed the palms of both their hands together, linking their fingers before leaning down again. His face was just inches from Castiel's. "And if I have to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives to make you believe it, I promise you, I will."

In later days and months that eventually stretched on into years, Castiel came to learn just how serious Dean was at making good on his promises.