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That night, the moon was exceptionally pretty, Castiel noticed. The sky above was almost cloudless, with bright, twinkling stars scattered across the velvet black. He took a deep breath, wondering how long it had been since the air had felt so crisp and clean. It was unnerving, really, that precisely today the weather had decided to be so stupidly nice - but then again, he wasn’t exactly used to being outside at 3 in the morning. If there was something still coming easy to him these days, it was burying himself under his blanket and putting his tired mind to rest every night. Which he definitely couldn’t say about waking up, for instance. Or about the rest of his miserable existence.
He shifted his gaze from the Big Dipper to the empty sidewalk, looking around. He’d chosen this time and this shabby bridge for a reason, not particularly interested in explaining his intentions to anyone. Luckily, there was no other soul on the poorly lit street, so, with another deep breath, Castiel finally lifted his leg over the dirty barrier, carefully placing his foot on the other side. There was irony in that - being careful while actively attempting to part with this world - but he couldn’t bring himself to smile about it. Truth be told, there hadn’t been many genuine smiles he’d shared lately - if there had been any at all. Castiel could produce fake ones on demand, but even those had begun to come with difficulty. Strange, since everybody knew that practice makes perfect, and he’d had thirty years to master his carefully sculpted mask of being ‘okay’, or even ‘happy’.
The platform on the other side wasn’t slippery, but it wasn’t long enough to fit his whole foot, so the tips of his black dress shoes stuck over the edge. He could hear a few small stones fall into the calm, dark river flowing below. His sweaty palms painfully tightened on the metal behind him, and his heart started to race behind his ribcage. It made zero sense - Castiel wanted to be here - but bodily reactions rarely made any sense to him. He finally decided to pay it no mind, looking back at the beautiful night sky instead. Was it supposed to be a parting gift? Or maybe the moon and the stars were bait from the universe, trying to find a way to convince him to stay.
Unfortunately for the universe, Castiel was too tired to try anymore.
Obviously, not all of his life had felt this hopeless. There’d been some nice memories he’d made along the way, but they had eventually grown further and further apart, until new ones had stopped coming entirely. Castiel suspected it was his fault, even though he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to screw up his own life. He’d tried doing all the stuff mentioned in different guides - finding a hobby, running before sunrise, and engaging in absolutely exhausting social activities. He’d even tried going on vacations and attending therapy, but none of those had brought him closer to finding a purpose for it all. One day, life had become repetitive and pointless, but ongoing nevertheless, trapping Castiel between the tasks that were expected of him - he worked hard, paid the rent, fake-smiled at his rude, bald boss and Hannah from HR, eventually becoming a numb tool. Efficient and used by others, but never really essential or wanted.
But not today. Today, Castiel was in charge, standing at the edge of an unobtrusive bridge, under the canopy of stars he wasn’t able to appreciate, and for the first time in months, he felt something other than emptiness.
He tried to swallow, but his throat felt strangely dry, and the blood in his ears kept pulsing with each elevated beat of his heart. The last time he’d checked, those were classic symptoms of fear.
Huh.
He shifted from one foot to the other, then carefully leaned forward, wondering how long the fall would take. Sure, knowing the exact height of the bridge, he’d done the calculations; he just wasn’t sure if the proverbial life flashing before his eyes might prolong the whole process. There weren’t many things he’d engage in less eagerly than a half-hour reminder of how sad and lonely his life truly was.
He closed his eyes, then took another deep breath. Would anybody even miss him? Probably not. It was possible nobody would have even noticed his absence, if not for the letters he’d left behind. Meg would probably be mad after reading hers. Balthazar, on the other hand, would just laugh at him for paying the rent up front - just because, in Castiel’s opinion, leaving a debt would be simply rude.
No point in thinking about that, though. Now, all Castiel had to do was take a small step forward, and-
“Man, I drank too much. I’m gonna be so fucking hungover tomorrow…”
Castiel swayed dangerously forward, then pressed his back against the barrier, his head snapping toward the source of the gruff, deep voice. A few feet to his right, a tall man leaned against the barrier, an unlit cigarette trapped between his lips. He wasn’t looking at Castiel, his gaze focused on the sky instead.
“Um,” Castiel managed to rasp out. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if the words had been meant for him.
The man offered him a brief look. Despite the clear bags under his eyes and the fatigue written all over his face, he couldn’t be older than 30. His hair was carefully styled, and if Castiel weren’t in the process of jumping off a bridge, he’d admit that the stranger was quite handsome.
"My brother’s wife gave birth yesterday. It’s his first kid. We had a little celebration party," the man explained, patting the pockets of his dark jacket. A second later, he fished a lighter out of his jeans and lit his cigarette, then closed his eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs.
Castiel frowned, watching as the stranger enjoyed the first hit of nicotine in his system. Did he know this man? He was almost sure he’d remember such a face if he’d ever seen it before.
“Shit… Sorry. You smoke?” The man asked a moment later, patting his pockets once more. When Castiel shook his head, the stranger leaned against the barrier in front of him, looking into the distance. “Good, that’s not healthy. I should quit,” he muttered. “I don’t know how to be an uncle… But damn, Sammy’s got it way worse. He’s gotta be a dad now,” he added, completely unfazed by Castiel’s perplexity.
“Excuse me, do we… know each other?” Castiel decided to ask, still tightly holding onto the railing. In the back of his head, he realized he should probably move away from the other guy, but the stranger wasn’t making any movements indicating he was going to stop Castiel. In fact, the man looked like the whole situation didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“Don’t think so. Hard to forget a trench coat like that. It’s gettin’ dirty, by the way,” the man replied, nodding at Castiel’s back, where his clothes were pressing against the neglected barrier.
“Oh,” Castiel said, because there wasn’t much else to say. “Right… Well, would you mind, um, moving a few steps away? I’m in the middle of something,” he added, frowning even harder.
“Nope,” the stranger simply said, and as he’d announced, he didn’t move an inch.
“This is ridiculous,” Castiel stated after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “It’s much easier for you to change your position than for me to change mine.”
“Yep,” the man nodded, then drew the smoke into his lungs again. “But I kinda like it here. And last time I checked, it was a public bridge. You can’t tell me where to stand,” he added, the corner of his lips lifting into an impudent smirk.
As unnerving as it was, Castiel had to admit that the man was correct, and unfortunately, the only way to proceed from here was for Castiel to make a move. Before he managed to come up with a reasonable solution, however, the man started talking again.
“You come here often, trench coat guy?”
The question was so bizarre that Castiel almost snorted. Almost - because he was still literally a step away from ending his earthly existence, and laughing wasn't exactly an activity he wanted to pursue at this very moment. Apart from that, the man was quickly starting to get on Castiel’s nerves.
“No,” he snapped back, silently praying for the irritating individual to finally leave him alone.
The man slowly nodded, then leaned forward to look over the barrier. He pursed his lips, then locked eyes with Castiel. “I'm Dean, by the way,” he said, inhaling the smoke once more. The tip of his cigarette lit up with a faint red glow. “You’ve got a name?”
Castiel slightly tilted his head to the side. Maybe his unwanted companion was even worse at reading social cues than Castiel. Or, perhaps, the man was just inebriated.
"I'm not sure if there's a point in introducing myself to you," Castiel finally said, stating the obvious.
“Sure there is. I ain't gonna call you trench coat guy - it sounds stupid,” Dean reasoned, propping his chin on his hand. “What's with the outfit, anyway? You look like an accountant.”
“I am an accountant,” Castiel admitted, squinting at Dean. “Are you trying to insult me now?” He asked, well aware that not so long ago, he’d tried to convince Adler there was no point in wearing a suit every day just to enter numbers into Excel.
“How is being an accountant insulting? No, man. Just wanna know your name,” Dean chuckled, flicking the ash. “Are you gonna keep me in suspense for long?”
Since looking for logic didn’t seem to work here, Castiel gave up on trying to understand the situation. He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted anyone around the damn bridge tonight. “I’m Castiel.”
“Wow,” Dean commented, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got yourself a long name, dude.”
“I didn’t get myself anything,” Castiel grumbled. “If you want to blame anyone for it, blame my parents.”
“Sure, Cas. Whatever you say,” Dean replied cheerfully, then turned around and leaned his back against the barrier. “So, how’d you end up on the other side?”
Castiel temporarily forgot about the very strange nickname he’d just gotten from Dean and squinted at the other man. “I stepped over the barrier.”
At that, Dean chuckled again - not in the pitiful way people normally did when listening to whatever Castiel was saying. No, it was a legitimate, deep chuckle. Kind of a nice sound, actually - if Castiel had a habit of rating chuckles.
“You got me,” Dean muttered, and his smile crinkled his eyes. “I’ve got a feeling you're a really funny guy, Cas.”
It was probably the last thing Castiel would have expected to hear in this situation. In fact, he hadn’t expected to hear it ever in his life, period. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Um. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. But seriously, what’s the reason behind you, uh… weighing your options over there?” Dean asked, then leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “Is it the work thing? I always thought counting could be kinda depressing.”
“I believe that may be true for people who are bad at it,” Castiel countered, observing with consternation as Dean’s grin grew even wider.
“Damn… Handsome, funny, and good with numbers? Let me tell ya, that doesn’t happen very often. What are the chances you’ll let me take you out for a coffee?”
Castiel almost let go of the barrier from sheer shock at Dean’s words - which, all things considered, would be a pretty stupid way to finally fall from the bridge. The most reasonable explanation was that the other man was simply joking, but still, hearing such praise from someone who easily ranked among the most beautiful people Castiel had ever seen caught him completely off guard.
“Sorry. I know I’m probably not very subtle,” Dean then said, stubbing out his cigarette on the pavement beneath his feet. “You have to believe me when I say I’m not usually this direct, but you’re literally standing on the edge here, so I had to raise my game a notch.”
Castiel blinked. There was always the possibility that he was hallucinating this entire conversation. Dean could be a wishful product of Castiel’s vivid imagination - or even the result of some kind of severe head trauma. If that were the case, Castiel had to congratulate his brain for coming up with such a good-looking fantasy.
But since there was still a slim chance that, despite all odds, Dean was real, Castiel finally decided to open his mouth. “Do you find flirting with all suicidal people interesting, or did you make an exception just for me?”
Dean pursed his lips, thinking. “Let’s just say it’s the first time I’ve been this invested. I’d really like that coffee with you, y'know?”
It was absurd, and that was probably the only reason Castiel’s lips slightly quivered. “I didn’t plan on going out for coffee today, Dean.”
“Perhaps you’ll change your mind over time, man. Charlie says I grow on people.”
“Is that your girlfriend?” Castiel asked, not really sure why it was important to know.
“God, no! She’s more like a sister to me. Kind of like Sam, but much smarter,” Dean replied, turning back to Castiel. “And that’s saying a lot, ‘cause Sammy’s pretty damn brilliant. Don’t tell him I said that, though,” he added with a small grimace. “You got any siblings, Cas?”
The sudden thought of Gabriel and Anna made the usual pain in Castiel’s chest double in intensity. He had intentionally isolated himself from them, knowing full well that they wouldn’t understand - especially Gabriel, who had already started to suspect that something was wrong with Castiel’s recent behavior. If not for the distance between them, Castiel was sure his brother would have been the first to raise the alarm.
“Shit. I shouldn’t have asked, sorry,” Dean muttered, watching Castiel’s face with concern.
“No, it’s fine,” Castiel lied, trying to regain control of his expression. “You, um… said your brother became a father recently?” He asked, desperate to change the subject.
Dean huffed, then nodded, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. He called the little dude ‘Dean.’ Can you imagine? What a stupid idea…”
“It’s a beautiful name,” Castiel said quietly. “You must be very important to him.”
“Yeah, but that’s not enough of a reason to make all our future family gatherings confusing. Gotta find a nickname for the kid,” Dean grumbled.
“Why, um,” Castiel began, then stopped to clear his dry throat. “Why are you really here, Dean?”
“You caught my eye,” the other man replied without missing a beat. “Besides, you kinda looked like you needed to talk to someone.”
“Ah. So you are trying to save me, after all,” Castiel murmured, looking at the endless sky above them. Strangely enough, admiring the stars for a little bit longer didn’t seem like the worst idea at the moment.
“You must admit, the story of how we met would be a great one to tell our future kids.”
Castiel shifted his gaze back to Dean, raising his eyebrow in question.
Dean shrugged, sending Castiel a cheeky grin. “What? Deep inside, I'm a bit of a romantic.”
“I think you should probably reconsider your target audience. It's not very wise to offer a date to someone who's trying to take their own life.”
“Dude, have you tried dating these days? It's a nightmare,” Dean chuckled. “And don't even get me started on all those dating apps! Man, I hate it. I just want someone to watch old movies with… You like old movies, Cas?”
“I can't say I've seen many of them,” Castiel replied truthfully.
“Hey, that's even better! More potential date night ideas for us,” Dean commented, adding a wink at the end. Somehow, during their conversation, the man had shifted closer - close enough that their arms were almost touching.
Castiel shook his head, looking away from the handsome stranger. “You don't even know if I'm into men.”
At that, Dean licked his lower lip. Castiel's traitorous eyes followed the movement.
Dean snorted. “Yeah, could've fooled me. My radar is impeccable, dude.”
“You’re ridiculous. We met just a few minutes ago. You know absolutely nothing about me, and I know nothing about you,” Castiel reasoned.
“Hey, that’s not true!” Dean protested. “I know you're a good-looking, smart and funny accountant, with questionable style choices - but I’m always up for a challenge. I also suspect you’ve got a fucked-up family situation, and I’m pretty damn sure that someone should be punched in the face for not appreciating you enough, because you wouldn’t be on the other side of this barrier if it were any different,” he continued, leaning even closer to Castiel’s face. “And while we’re at it, I know for a fact that you should be drinking coffee with me at some nice place that’s still open at this godforsaken hour.”
Before Castiel had a chance to form any kind of response, Dean started talking again. “As for me, well… I’m an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and a few years back I’d say I liked frisky women. It turned out I like guys just as much. How’s that?”
“That can barely be considered knowing each other, Dean,” Cas finally managed to say after uselessly opening and closing his mouth for a few too-long moments.
“Yeah, well. It’s a start,” Dean remarked before his expression shifted to a more serious one. “Now you can tell me what went wrong that led you to this bridge tonight.”
Castiel sighed, rocking slightly on his heels. “You're a very stubborn man, aren’t you?”
“That’s what they say, yeah,” Dean confirmed with a nod, and even the faint streetlamp couldn't dim the light in his eyes. “There was a time in my life when someone else was so stubborn for me, y’know? I wouldn’t be here tonight if it weren’t for my family and friends. And now, I wanna be here for you, Cas. So just… y’know, let me.”
In the end, Castiel wasn’t even sure what it was that made him start talking. Perhaps it was the warmth of Dean’s voice, his unwavering confidence, or just the fact that Castiel couldn't remember a time when someone had actually listened to what he was saying. Because there was no doubt that Dean was really listening, no matter how chaotic Castiel’s words became. He was nodding, and asking questions, trying to make sense of disorganized thoughts that Castiel’s brain produced.
And there were a lot of those, flowing out of him seemingly without end, like a wild river. He told Dean how, no matter where he’d gone, he’d always felt out of place, never fitting into any group. That making friends had been almost impossible. That too many sounds made his skin crawl, and being among people for too long usually ended with him hiding in a bathroom.
How his family hated him for being different, so he’d eventually stopped sharing his thoughts with them completely.
How alone he’d felt, even though he’d tried really hard to understand normal human interactions that seemed to come so easily to others.
How he’d eventually given up on trying, because nothing he’d done made any difference.
How disappearing completely had, somewhere along the way, started to sound like a reasonable solution. Some sort of relief, even. Removing himself from the whole, very complicated equation.
It took some time to let it all out - to tell his story fully. Somewhere in between, he realized that his eyes were strangely wet and stinging, but he paid it no mind, determined to make it to the finish line. Surprisingly, the further he got, the lighter his chest became, the chronic pain behind his ribs easing up, drop by drop. By the time he had covered most of it, Castiel’s throat was throbbing, his arms felt too stiff, and his legs ached from standing in the same position for so long. The sky over the peaceful river had slowly changed to dark purple, indicating the upcoming sunrise.
It will be a particularly beautiful day, Castiel thought, thoroughly surprising himself.
“Well, damn…” Dean muttered once Castiel had finally fallen silent. “No wonder you had a hard time with all of that weighing on your shoulders. And I thought that dealing with my alcohol addiction was hard.”
Castiel frowned at that, turning to Dean. They were standing next to each other, with only the barrier keeping them from touching. “You’re an alcoholic? But didn’t you say you were out drinking yesterday?”
Dean grinned again. “Yeah, I lied. I've actually been sober for almost four years now.”
“But… why did you lie about it?” Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side.
Dean shrugged. “Needed a reason to start a conversation with a handsome accountant. I really wanted that coffee with you, Cas,” he said, his gaze briefly dropping to Castiel’s lips, “and you’ve gotta know that when I want something really, really bad… I lie.”
Castiel swallowed. There was very little he understood about Dean's behavior; in fact, he still wasn’t entirely sure the man was even real, let alone attracted to him, but…
Well…
For the first time in months, he was actually willing to find out.
And perhaps let Dean take him for that coffee.
Maybe he’d even like some cake with his beverage?
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to eat cake.
“Winchester? What are you doing here?”
The unexpected voice behind Dean shattered their safe bubble, startling Castiel. He reflexively tried to pull away, completely forgetting that he was still standing on the edge of a very short platform.
Something he realized only after he’d stupidly let go of the damn barrier. With nothing to support his weight now, his body started to fall backward, moving away from Dean’s warmth.
It was like watching everything in slow motion - which, Castiel vaguely realized, had been exactly what he’d feared not so long ago.
Now, however, it felt much more like the time he’d been given had been abruptly cut short.
Funny how life still found ways to disappoint him, even in the moment before his death, Castiel thought, closing his eyes.
…only to open them not even a second later, as a firm pressure secured him in place. He felt a sudden shift in balance, and a grounding presence pulling him back up.
“Got ya!” Dean grunted into his left ear. The man was leaning over the barrier, his arms wrapped tightly around Castiel’s torso.
Castiel didn’t even have to think twice before grabbing the man just as tightly, desperately digging his fingers into Dean’s dark jacket.
He was lifted up, and as soon as he felt the platform beneath his foot again, Castiel stepped onto it fully, trying to calm his racing heart.
“It’s okay,” Dean said after a moment, a little breathlessly. “I’ve got you, don’t you worry, Cas. I’m here…”
Castiel nodded, burying his face in Dean’s chest. It carried the strong scent of leather and cigarettes. He was shaking, or perhaps they both were, as the beautiful sun started to rise in the distance, casting golden rays onto the stupid bridge.
Overwhelmed, and held in a way he never had been before, Castiel let himself cry. Just for a short moment, and for a completely different set of reasons than in the past few months.
Just because he was still there.
He vaguely heard some voices in the distance. Dean was talking to someone, and there were some other noises, faintly reminding Castiel of crime scenes and hospitals, but he couldn’t hear the exact words, focusing solely on Dean’s presence. And Dean didn’t let go of him even for a second, no matter how long it took for Castiel to stop weeping and pull himself back together.
“You ready to get back on this side, Cas?” Dean finally asked. Castiel was, so he nodded, finding the courage to raise his gaze.
Dean was smiling at him, and in the sunlight, his eyes gleamed forest green.
It was quickly becoming Castiel’s new favorite color.
“Good,” Dean said quietly. “That’s really good.”
Since Castiel’s legs were tired and weak, it took some clever maneuvering to move him back onto the pavement. There were plenty of people in different kinds of uniforms around them now. The ambulance's lights pulsed behind the fenced-off area, like a scene straight out of a crime novel, and it took Cas a moment to realize that all the fuss was entirely because of his actions. He suddenly felt a little dizzy, but Dean’s strong hands steadied him once more.
"Hey, you okay?" Dean asked.
Before Castiel managed to form a reply, a blonde firewoman approached them. "He needs medical attention, Winchester."
“In a minute, Jo. You’d better check on Ash, though. The idiot is probably still shaken up after he almost made Cas fall off the bridge. He should’ve known better than to yell like that,” Dean said, partly turning to the woman, but placing one of his hands on the small of Castiel’s back. Castiel was very grateful for it.
“You know you won’t be able to wriggle out of writing a report, right?” Jo asked, resting her hand on her hip. “And Jody wants to question both of you. The passerby reported seeing a man crying on the edge of the bridge, attempting suicide. You know the protocol.”
Dean rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath. “First of all, I’m off the fucking clock. Besides, literally nothing happened here! I was on a date with my boyfriend, then Ash appeared, Cas slipped, and I saved him. End of story.”
The woman gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, right. A boyfriend you didn’t even have when we were changing shifts tonight?”
“I move fast,” Dean shot back with a cheeky grin that was quickly wiped away by a smack to the head from an older firefighter who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
“Do what she says, boy. Stop ignoring the rules,” the man grumbled.
“Jesus, Bobby,” Dean whined, covering the back of his head with a wince.
“Knock it off,” the older man said, then turned to Castiel. “And you’re gonna get examined now. Don’t worry, it won't hurt. We’ll just make sure you didn’t strain your muscles or somethin’.”
“So, you’re a firefighter?” Castiel asked once a few moments later Dean had reluctantly agreed to Bobby’s order and they were left alone again.
“Yeah,” Dean admitted as he led Castiel in the direction of the ambulance.
Castiel hummed, watching his feet as he walked. Had anything Dean said to him even been true? There was no doubt that the man wasn’t attracted to him, that would be simply stupid. Dean had been just doing his job, because he was apparently a firefighter, and a decent human being, and Castiel was just a deeply troubled individual with mental issues-
“I’m gonna talk to Jody, make sure she’ll go easy on you,” Dean said quietly, interrupting Castiel’s disturbing train of thought. He then slowed down, forcing Castiel to do the same. “Look, I know you must be exhausted after all this, and I’m probably getting ahead of myself here, but it would be great to find someplace to sit and uh… get to know each other a little better. Y’know, now that we actually have some time to do it properly,” he said, catching Castiel’s eyes.
“You still want to go on a date? With me?” Castiel asked, just to make sure his brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. After all, he’d almost died just a few minutes ago, it was completely possible he was simply making things up now.
Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Man, for a counting genius, you’re pretty dense… You thought I was joking when I repeatedly told you I liked you?”
"I tried to jump off a bridge, Dean. I would assume you’d say anything to save my life," Castiel reasoned, raising his eyebrow.
“Yeah, fine. That’s fair, I guess,” Dean muttered, then pulled Castiel closer, and his smile turned a little mischievous. The smell of leather and cigarettes filled Castiel’s nostrils again. “That’s not what happened there, though.”
“It’s not?”
“Nah,” Dean said, then bit his lower lip. “I just really wanted this freaking coffee with you.”
Slowly, an uncertain, but genuine smile began to form on Castiel’s lips. “I believe you’ve very much earned it by now.”
“Y’know,” Dean said, trapping Castiel’s chin between his fingers. “We could try and skip all this nonsense and just go to my place, if you’re up for it.”
Castiel nodded, as he raised absolutely no objections to either Dean’s plans or his idea to slowly bring their lips together. Which was apparently happening, since Castiel had run out of other possible explanations for Dean moving closer and zeroing in on his mouth.
If that wasn’t a tide turning for him, Castiel had no clue what was.
“Winchester! The hell you’re doing? Groping a victim in the middle of the street?” A sharp voice cut through the air, stopping Dean only inches before Castiel.
“Fuuuck,” Dean groaned, releasing his hold on Castiel’s face and slightly moving away. His other hand, however, placed around Castiel’s torso, didn’t move. “I’m just providing the necessary emotional support here, Jodes. This man is traumatized," he then said, turning to the policewoman standing next to the ambulance.
“Uh-huh. That’s cute. Now get him here and let the paramedics do their work, would you?” Jody asked, pointing at said paramedics with her thumb, before disappearing behind the vehicle again.
“Not even a moment of peace, I swear to God,” Dean muttered, then grasped Castiel’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Alright, let’s get you checked out and get the hell outta here. You’re drinking coffee with me today, sweetheart - with or without your clothes on,” he said, pulling Castiel toward the ambulance.
In the end, Castiel had been right.
It really was a particularly beautiful day.