Standing Together

Chapter 50

A/N Kathryn Newton (Claire) was at the Taylor Swift concert last night in Nashville and she got to meet Taylor after the show and their pic on Kathryn's insta is so cute alzkskdhakzhsj

Castiel wakes up to the sound of Dean's alarm just as the older boy's shutting it off. Dean looks over, checking to see if Castiel is still asleep, just as he does every morning. Occasionally, Castiel does manage to sleep through the obnoxious beeping, but today is not one of those days.

"'Morning, sunshine," Dean says with a grin.

Castiel sits up slowly and rubs his eyes. "It's too early for this."

Dean chuckles. "You've said that every day for the last two weeks."

"And every day for the past two weeks, it's been too early for this."

Dean shakes his head in amusement. "You're lucky you don't have a real job, because I can't imagine you keeping up with a consistent sleep schedule."

"I have a real job," Castiel mutters, but he doesn't push it because he knows Dean is right.

"Mm, sure you do." Dean yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. "Well, I'm gonna go make coffee. You're welcome to stay in bed."

Dean says that every day, and every day, Castiel decides to come with him. Dean quickly tosses on some jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel, and then heads out to the kitchen, Castiel following close behind. As Dean starts making coffee, Castiel sits down at the counter.

"Tomorrow's game day, right?" Castiel asks. On days he plays away games, he has to leave a day early, so he'll be gone for a while.

Dean nods. "Yep. Last game 'til the season starts."

Castiel cocks his head to the side, squinting his eyes slightly. "But hasn't the season already started? This is, like, your fourth game."

Dean chuckles. "Yeah, my fourth preseason game. The real season starts next Sunday."

Castiel just stares at him uncomprehendingly.

Dean shakes his head in amusement. "Maybe I should have waited to explain this when you weren't half asleep."

"Probably," Castiel agrees. He's never been a football person. Couple that with the fact that he's also not a morning person, and this is clearly not going to work out.

They chat as Dean makes breakfast, and soon, it's time for him to leave.

Castiel walks over and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll probably be back pretty late," Dean tells him. "The game's not 'til, like, 7:30 or something, and it's all the way in Washington. I might not see you until Friday morning — Friday afternoon if you sleep through my alarm."

Castiel sighs softly. "Okay, but call me at some point while you're gone so I'm not lonely."

Dean chuckles. "I'll do that." He ruffles Castiel's hair gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good luck tonight," Castiel says. "You're gonna do great."

"Thanks, Cas." Dean squeezes his hand once before walking out the door.

Castiel sighs to himself. Now what does he do? He's got the whole day to himself. He needs to find something here for him. He starts by getting dressed — or throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an AC/DC tee shirt, which is as close to "dressed" as he's gotten since coming back from California a couple weeks ago.

He grabs his phone and goes back to the kitchen. He's barely sat down with the front door slams shut, and Castiel jumps in his seat, his heart pounding.

"They fucked up my car!" Dean practically yells, storming into the room.

"What?" Castiel runs to the window and peaks through the blinds.

Sure enough, there's the impala, with four slashed tires, a few shattered windows, and homophobic slurs written in white paint on both the hood of the car and the side -- and that's just what he can see from here.

"Oh my god," Castiel breathes. No wonder Dean's so mad.

He turns around to see Dean pacing back and forth, his hands balled up in fists so tight, he's probably going to leave little cuts on his palms from his nails. He's clearly pissed, and he doesn't try to hide it.

"Okay, Dean," Castiel says cautiously, "let's calm down —"

"'Calm down'?" Dean repeats incredulously. "I can't calm down! I don't have a damn car anymore, so I can't get to work; they let the air out of the tires and I can't fix it until I come back on Friday, so it's going to bend the rims; and they took all my freaking cassette tapes!" Dean slams his foot into the wall, probably just to let some of the anger out, but he just gets more upset when he accidentally leaves a hole behind. "Oh, son of a bitch!"

Castiel reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, Dean smacks it away with enough force that it's probably going to leave a bruise. Castiel quickly pulls his arm away and takes a small step away from him.

"Can I just be the voice of reason for a second?" Castiel asks hesitantly.

Dean crosses his arms but doesn't say no, which Castiel takes as his cue to try it.

"Right now, you have to get to the stadium," Castiel says. "Your car will still be here when you get back —"

"But the longer I leave the car like that, the worse she's gonna get, and I don't have an infinite amount of time to fix her!" Dean interrupts, back with the yelling. "I swear to god, when I find out who did this —"

"You can fix it on Friday," Castiel says, a little timidly. He really doesn't want Dean to yell at him again. "But you can't put off the game tonight. Get someone else to drive you — a limo, a cab, a friend; anyone — and fix the impala later. Okay?"

Dean hesitates, then sighs. "Yeah, you're probably right. I just —" Dean runs a hand through his hair, clearly still frustrated, but calmer about it. "I don't know who I can call. I'm already pretty late. Everyone else is probably either already there or almost there, so I don't..." Dean thinks for a minute. "God, I have no idea. I don't even know how to get a cab. I don't have a phone number or anything."

He sighs and pulls out his phone. Castiel watches in silence, curious as to who he's going to call, but sort of scared to say anything to him right now.

Dean puts the phone to his ear, tapping his foot impatiently. It doesn't work out, so he calls another number, muttering, "Come on, pick up!" under his breath, until finally — "Oh, thank god. Finally, someone who uses their damn phone."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. He's not even going to try to be nice? It's probably not his best plan if he's hoping to get a ride.

"Oh, shut up," Dean snaps. "Someone completely fucked up my car, and now I'm pretty much stuck here unless I get a — yes? Awesome. Thanks." Dean hangs up and puts his phone down on the counter. He runs a hand down his face, exasperated.

"Did you get a ride?" Castiel asks, sort of hesitant to do so.

Dean nods. "Benny's going to pick me up, so we can take on the wrath of the coach together when we're late instead of me just suffering alone." Dean glances back at the window and sighs. He sits down and puts his head on the counter, eyes closed and just looking defeated.

Castiel frowns. He wishes there was something he could do to cheer Dean up, but he's sure that if he said anything, Dean would just snap at him. Instead, Castiel just sits down at the table, fidgeting with his hands as he waits for Benny to show up.

After what feels like forever, a car honks from outside. Dean pushes himself too his feet and heads to the window, muttering under his breath, "That better be him..." Fortunately for both of them, it seems it is, because Dean says a quick monotonous, "Bye," and walks out the door.

Castiel sighs and props his head up on one hand. Maybe spending a couple days alone isn't going to be too bad.