Chapter Text
“I have never been so exhausted in my life,” Castiel growled, flopping tiredly onto his hotel bed.
“That’s what you get for being so damn smart,” Dean teased into the phone, “Just had to be a jet-settin’ doctor, traveling the world.”
“Hey, you had the chance to come with me, so don’t gripe,” he sniped back, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “It’s not my fault you have an irrational fear of flying.”
“Dude, it’s unnatural. Metal tubes shouldn’t go hurtling through the air,” Dean said with a shudder.
“I miss you,” Castiel said softly, still smiling.
“I miss you too, sweetheart,” Dean replied, giving a soft smile of his own. “Just think, this time tomorrow, I’ll be picking you up from the airport.”
“I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed,” Castiel sighed. “This sleeping alone thing gets old quickly.”
Dean laughed. “Admit it, you just miss getting to ogle my hot bod,” he teased.
Dean could practically hear the eye roll across the miles as Castiel replied dryly, “Oh yes, that’s absolutely the only reason I’ve been ready to come home since I got here. I simply cannot sleep without a good looking male next to me. I suppose I’ll have to see about hiring a prostitute so I can be well rested for the plane ride home.”
“Like hell you will,” Dean growled, making the other man chuckle. “I’m the only dude that gets to see you naked, sleep be damned.”
“So does that mean I can get a female instead?”
“Absolutely not!”
“But, Dean,” Castiel said though his laughter, “I want to be well rested when I come home.”
“Fuck that,” Dean laughed. “I can still fuck you into the mattress even if you’re asleep.”
“I think you are overly confident in exactly who will be fucking who,” Castiel replied, grinning into his phone.
“We’ll rock, paper, scissors for it, then,” Dean answered.
“In that case, I’ll be fucking you, because you always lose.”
“That’s not true!”
“It really is, you’re too predictable,” Castiel teased.
“God, I miss you,” Dean sighed, still smiling.
“I miss you too, Dean. I’ve got to start packing, but I’ll call you from the airport when I check in, okay?”
“All right. Travel safe, I have plans for that ass when you get back.”
Castiel shook his head, grinning. “I love you too, Dean,” he said softly, ending the call.
It still amused Castiel greatly that even after three years together, Dean still had trouble saying the words. He’d said them once, after they’d moved in together, but Castiel didn’t need to hear it everyday. Dean was more for showing than telling, after all. With a sigh, he heaved himself up off the bed, walking to the tiny sink. Splashing some water over his face, he eyed his tired eyes in the mirror, noting the bags and ever expanding crow’s feet. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, before scrubbing a hand down his face. He’d been brought to Tokyo to present a paper on his research on use of gene therapy to treat Pre-Alzheimer’s, and he felt like it had been well received. The whole conference had been interesting, to say the least, and it had been amazing to get to talk shop with some of the best minds in his field. Although he’d loved the experience, he truly couldn’t wait to get home, back to his classroom, and to Dean. He smiled, picturing the lanky man with the stunning green eyes that still took his breath away.
They’d met through Sam. Sam’s wife, Jessica, had been one of his students doing her graduate work in the study of neurology. He’d become very fond of the vivacious blonde, becoming friends with her and her husband after she’d graduated. One night the couple had invited him over for dinner, and he remembered how it felt like he’d been struck by lightning the first time he’d laid eyes on Sam’s brother, Dean. He grins to himself, remembering how he’d felt like a complete fool, having been struck dumb by the gorgeous man. He’d managed to stammer through his introduction, and was relieved that Dean seemed to think he was merely inept rather than creepy. However, at the end of the night, Dean walked with him to his car, then gave him his number, slapping him on the ass before winking at him and walking back into the house. It’d taken quite a bit of courage to call that first time, but he’s so glad he did. He simply can’t imagine a life without Dean Winchester in it.
Heaving a sigh, he wished he could just snap his fingers and be home, but since that was not to be, he started packing instead. If he hurried, he had time for a quick nap before his overnight flight back to California.
~~
Dean hummed along to the music playing loudly in the garage, swaying his hips slightly to the beat. Cas’ flight wouldn’t get in until a little after seven this evening, so he was working on one of the projects in the garage. His current project was a ‘57 Chevy Bel Air that the owner wanted restored to her original glory, and Dean was happy to oblige. It’d been a bitch tracking down some of the original parts for the engine, but it’d been worth it. Tightening a last bolt in under the hood, he stood with a happy sigh. She was ready for primer, than paint. He took a moment and looked around his shop. Winchester Restorations had been busier than usual as of late, but right now things were progressing nicely and on schedule. Garth was in the painting booth finishing the clear coat on the ‘68 Shelby Mustang, and tomorrow he’d start on the Bel Air. Ash was gone on a parts run, collecting the ordered parts for a ‘70 Road Runner. Jo was working on repairing the upholstery on a ‘69 Camaro. He closed the hood on the Bel Air, giving the hood a fond pat. He checked the clock hanging in the back of the shop. It was coming up on four o’clock; he had just enough time to go shower before heading to San Francisco to pick up Cas.
“Jo! I’m headed out, you okay to lock up later?”
“Seriously?” the petite blonde sniped, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. “You ask me that every time Dean, I’m a big girl, I can handle locking up the shop you dork.”
“If I didn’t ask, your momma would whip me, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you, Joanna Beth,” he teased, putting up the last of his tools.
“Yeah, whatever, you pussy. Give Cas a hug for me and tell him he owes me some chocolate chip cookies for putting up with your sorry ass while he’s been gone.”
“Hey, I’m a delight, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, runt.”
“About as delightful as a case of the clap,” she grumbled, slapping away Dean’s hands as he mussed her ponytail. “Get outta here, would you?”
“I’m gone, don’t gotta tell me twice,” Dean grinned, his playful wink at the woman he considered like a sister met with an eye roll and a smile of her own.
Stepping out of his shop, he slid into his pride and joy, his ‘67 Chevy Impala. Starting her up, feeling the rumble of the engine, it never got old. He drove the short distance from the shop to the house, and headed inside to get cleaned up. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he whistled as he entered the bedroom, quickly stripping out of his dirty clothes, pitching them basketball style towards the hamper. He turned on the shower, and stepped beneath the spray, washing quickly. Cas had been gone less than a week, but Dean had missed him like crazy and couldn’t wait to see him again. Stepping out of the shower, he dried off quickly, heaving the towel back into the bathroom. Humming “Enter Sandman” under his breath, he made quick work of getting dressed. Snapping his fingers, he grabbed his wallet, keys, stuffing them in his pockets. As he went to grab his phone, it rang, the caller ID lighting up with the name “Bitch”. Grinning broadly, he swiped his thumb over the screen to answer it. “Sammy! What’s up?”
“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam’s voice was unusually somber, tinged with concern.
Frowning, Dean sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, Sam, I’m fine, was just getting ready to head out to the airport to meet Cas. Why?”
There was a pause. “Sam?”
“You haven’t seen the news have you?”
A bubble of unease rippled through Dean. “Sammy, I was at work, I just came home to clean up before I went to the airport, I haven’t had time to watch the news today. What’s going on, man, you’re kinda making me nervous here,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his chin.
“Dean, I. . .I’m sorry.” He heard that crack in Sam’s voice, the one that always meant he was trying not to cry.
“Sammy, what’s going on? Just spit it out, man,” Dean said, genuine fear beginning to seep through him.
“His plane. . .it’s all over the news, they think it was a bomb. . ISIS is all over twitter taking credit for it. . .” his brother trailed off again, as if each word were a stone he had to force from his lips.
Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It was hard to breathe. “What. . .what exactly are you saying, Sam? Are you. . .” he stopped, closing his eyes.
“They lost contact with the plane, Dean. They think it’s been attacked by terrorists. They have search and rescue out looking right now, looking for wreckage and any survivors.”
Dean closed his eyes. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. “No, it can’t be, not possible. I just talked to him last night, Sammy, I’d know if he were . . .” he swallowed hard, unable to say it aloud.
“Dean, I’m almost to the house. Is the door unlocked?” Sam said something else, but Dean was no longer listening. He didn’t even feel the phone falling from his hand, hitting the carpet with a soft thump, Sam’s tinny voice calling his name over and over.
The next thing Dean was aware of, his brother had both hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, calling his name. Dean blinked slowly; his brother’s voice sounded as though it came from a great distance away.
“. . .families are meeting at the airport to wait for news, Jess is gonna meet us there.”
“What?” Dean asked, trying to blink away the fog.
“I said, we’re going to the airport. They said on the news that any family were welcome to wait for news and updates.” Sam clasped his brother’s face in his hands, wiping away tears from under Dean’s eyes with his thumbs. “You’re not going through this alone, Dean.”
Numbly, Dean nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face harshly. Taking the hand Sam offered, he let his not-so-little brother haul him to his feet and guide him downstairs.