Draw My Lines In The Sky

”You shouldn’t eat so much pie, Dean. It makes you pudgy.”

Dean froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and looked at Sam like he’d been caught doing something forbidden. They were at Denny’s Diner, their favorite joint. It had the best burgers and the most awesome pie you could imagine - at least if you asked Dean. Sam thought the food was okay - they even served a bit healthier options than the deep-fried grease Dean favored - while Cas was mainly after, well, sustenance. He had never really considered food or drink to be anything more than fuel, and watching the brothers bicker about it was entertaining at least. Unfortunately, it tended to give him a headache too.

”And besides, you’d crush Cas if you were pudgier, and that would be a bit embarrassing, don’t you think?”

Cas was approaching their table when he heard the exchange. Sam had a mischievous grin on his face, and Dean was about to retort something when he saw Cas. He blushed and his eyes went a bit panicky, then he stammered something under his breath and fled the table. Cas blinked and turned to look after him, and heard Sam snicker behind him.

”Why did you do that?” Cas frowned.

Sam shrugged. ”It’s fun to tease him, especially about you,” he winked.

Cas huffed and sat across Sam, where Dean had been just a minute ago. ”There’s nothing to tease about. Dean and I, we’re not together as you well know.”

Sam cocked his head and gave him The Look. ”…Yeeeaaaah, about that. Tell me, why aren’t you, again?”

It was Cas’s turn to shrug. ”It didn’t work out,” he stated and focused on his food.

That wasn’t exactly true. He and Dean had been dancing around each other for several years now, neither of them ready to make the first move, both waiting for the other to take the lead. They would probably still be pretending there was nothing between them if it hadn’t been for one night in September, when Sam stood them up. They’d eventually ended up hammered and in Cas’s bed. Actually, now they were pretending there was nothing between them, except that there was. They had had sex twice: the first round a hurried and messy drunken fumble, the second a slow and lazy morning-after that had left Cas warm and fuzzy, falling asleep still inside Dean, resting his forehead against Dean’s back. When he had woken up Dean had been gone, and ever since things had been awkward.

Sam sighed. ”I’ll probably never understand you two. You’re crazy about each other, and it makes me sexually frustrated being around you!”

Cas gave him a flat stare, the one Dean called his Glare of Heavenly Wrath, and Sam rolled his eyes.

”Okay, fine. I’ll shut up,” Sam raised his hands in surrender.

Cas nodded, taking a sip from his coffee.

It wasn’t that he wanted to forget about it all. On the contrary, Cas very much wanted to be with Dean, but ever since then, Dean had been avoiding him, his reaction to Sam’s teasing just another example of the awkwardness between them. Things had been frustrating before, but afterwards everything had turned to the uncomfortable side, and Cas just didn’t get why.

”So, how are your studies?” Cas asked, in attempt to divert Sam’s attention from the nonexistent relationship between him and Dean. Fortunately, it worked just as well as it always did.

”Hell. Absolute hell. I think our professors are demons from the inner circle of Dante’s Inferno, and they’ve decided that none of us is going to have Thanksgiving or Christmas. Or at least not the kind we want to have.” Sam shook his head in frustration, launching into an explanation of the pains of his environmental engineering studies. Cas listened politely, his mind partly occupied on his own businesses and the effect of the impending holiday season on his shop.

And somewhere deep in his mind there was a small nagging voice that tried to point something out to him, something related to Dean’s reaction, but he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to pay it any attention.

It was three weeks before Christmas and Cas was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. His bookshop was swarming with clients and he was working his ass off trying to keep things together with the limited time and staff in his disposal. But he was loving it, every minute of the day.

He heard the doorbell ring again and turned to greet the new customer. Except it wasn't a new one.

”Dean!” Cas greeted with a warm smile.

Dean grinned his answer, and made his way towards the history section. Cas was occupied and sent Kevin, his seasonal helper, to take care of Dean while he tried to serve his picky customer. The elderly lady was not sure whether to choose the newest Ludlum or Cook for her nephew, but after questioning her on said nephew’s bookcase and hobbies, Cas helped her pick a suitable Christmas gift. After getting rid of her, Cas directed the next customers to Meg, his other seasonal helper, and went to look for Dean.

Dean had wandered from the historical section to the cookbooks and was intently flipping through a pastry book. Cas took the chance to indulge in the sight and gave in for a moment of staring. It had been a month since they had last met, the unfortunately short encounter at Denny’s, and now there was something different about Dean. His face looked a bit narrower and his eyes were tired… but there was nothing else Cas could pinpoint. He shook his head - working 24/7 was wearing him out, making him see things that probably weren’t even there.

”Thinking about baking? That’s a bestseller and for a reason, you know.”

Dean started and nearly dropped the book when he whirled around to look at Cas.

”Um. Is it? I was just looking, not thinking about baking. Nope.” The words seemed a bit off and defensive, and Dean hastily placed the pastry book back to its shelf.

Cas cocked his brow. ”Nothing wrong in looking, you know.” The double entendre hit him just a bit too late, but there was nothing he could do about it. Dean smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Cas cleared his throat and desperately tried to think of something else to say.

”You look different… Have you lost some weight?” It was the first thing that came to his mind and he winced internally. It really wasn’t what he had wanted to say, but…

Dean blinked and his eyes darted away from Cas before he answered, ”Yeah, I-.”

They were interrupted when Kevin called Cas for help, and, with his mind already occupied, he commented absently, ”It suits you,” because that’s what you usually say when somebody loses some weight, before he nodded as a goodbye and hurried off.

He missed the look in Dean’s eyes.

”Heavenly Hoard Bookstore, how can I help you?”

”Hi Cas, it’s Sam. Still alive, huh?”

”Barely. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.”

”But good for sales, right?”

”Well, that’s true. How about you? Survived Hell?”

”Ugh, don’t even ask… The assignments were a pain and we really had to push ourselves to get them done. Especially those from Adler and McLeod. They were terrible, but then, we already knew that. Fortunately our study group is a kicker and we all got through, but I don’t think Ava and Jake realize it’s already over.” Sam chuckled tiredly. ”So, do you have any plans for Christmas? Please tell me you’re going to have at least some time off at Christmas.”

”Yes. I’m closing the shop Christmas Eve and opening again after New Year.”

”Would you like to come over for Christmas? It’s just me and Dean, and Madison of course, if she can make it.”

”Sam…”

”Look, Cas, I’m not trying to pair you with Dean, no matter how much I ship you. But you’re our friend and it’ll kill me if you insist on spending the holidays alone. Again. Unless you’re going to your folks?”

”Uh, no. I really don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.”

”They’re still not over you being gay? Honestly? It’s been, how long now? Twelve years?”

”They are patient people, Sam. They are merely waiting for me to ’grow out of it,’ as they say.”

”Well, their loss is our gain. So, we’ll see you on Christmas then?”

”If you insist-

”I do.”

”-then I think I’ll see you on Christmas.”

”Great!”

”So, Madison…?

”Oh, don’t you go all big-brotherly on me. Not you too! It’s enough having to deal with Dean’s teasing about it.”

”Hmm… I think you might deserve it.”

”Bah. Call you later with the details, I’m still not sure if it’s going to be at my place or Dean’s.”

”Okay. Say hi to Dean for me.”

”Yeah, sure. Bye!”

Castiel spent a great deal of time thinking of what to give Sam, Dean, and the infamous Madison for Christmas. Something from his shop, of course, but also something personal. After agonizing hours of wandering around, he picked Sam a brand new encyclopedia of occult objects, to indulge Sam’s hobby of studying the history of witchcraft. After some internal debate he decided to give Madison a Moleskine notebook with a quality-set of ballpoint pens. He didn’t even know the girl, but you couldn’t go wrong with a notebook, could you?

Dean was even more difficult, and he finally settled on two books: a cross-analysis of Vonnegut’s works and the pastry book Dean had been flipping through when he had last visited Cas’s shop. Giving Dean both was a bit preposterous, even if he did own a bookshop, and he finally went with the pastry book - it was Christmas, after all. He could always give Dean the Vonnegut analysis for his birthday.

Sam had called and told him to come to his place, because Dean ’had something going on in his flat, don’t ask what, he’s pissed.’ Sam and Dean’s flats were both small one-bedroom apartments, so the location choice had nothing to do with size. The brothers had shared a bigger flat for years, but that had changed when Dean had moved in with his girlfriend and her son, and Sam had acquired his own place. After the break-up Dean had rented a place of his own, neither brother eager to give up their personal space.

It was a nice day, clean and crisp, with just the right amount of snow to get you into the holiday spirit. Cas inhaled deep and glanced at the clear sky, smiling a little. Out of nowhere he got an image of him and Dean walking in a snowy park, talking nonsense and just enjoying themselves. It was too much like a scene from 'The Love Story', and something he probably shouldn’t dwell on too much. He shook his head to get rid of the inappropriate thought before he went inside.

Madison was an intelligent brunette with an easy smile and a quirky sense of humor, and Cas instantly liked her. Turned out she shared Cas’s passion for medieval poetry, at which point Sam rolled his eyes at and muttered something about geeks finding each other. They shared a long and surprisingly heated discussion slumped on Sam’s couch, while Sam and Dean prepared food in the kitchen.

Dinner was excellent, and Cas wasn’t surprised at all when Sam told him it was basically all Dean. When he complimented Dean on it, the older Winchester blushed and shrugged, overly nonchalant. But Cas could tell Dean was pleased. They got caught in each other’s eyes for a moment, and Cas didn’t avert his eyes until Sam coughed pointedly and Dean poked his brother with a fork.

Cas had brought some wine and chocolate and Dean’s favorite beer (so what if he had raided three stores just to find it?), and after dinner they piled in the living room, Cas’s offerings in hand, to open the presents. Cas got a new scarf from Sam and Madison, probably something Madison chose. Despite all Sam’s good characteristics he couldn’t quite picture Sam purchasing a blue cashmere scarf. Sam was ecstatic about his book, and Madison seemed equally pleased by Cas’s gift, but when Dean unwrapped the cookbook, something flickered across his face, dulling his eyes and turning his smile a bit forced, and Cas didn’t understand what he had done wrong.

Troubled, he opened the gift Dean presented him to discover a pair of merino wrist warmers.

”You said that your wrists ache after a long day and I thought these might help.” Dean muttered off-handedly, but was clearly nervous about Cas’s reaction.

”Thank you, Dean. I’m sure these will come handy when winter really kicks in,” he answered sincerely and was rewarded with a small smile. He put the wrist warmers on and gently stroked the soft fabric, enjoying the softness and warmth. ”These are very nice. Thank you,” he repeated. ”I hope you like the pastry book. I saw you flipping it at the store and thought you might like it. I know how much you like pie, after all,” he tried with a grin, but the joke fell flat when the smile on Dean’s face withered and his eyes turned subdued.

”Yeah,” Dean said and stared at the book for a moment. Then he lifted his head and piped brightly, ”Coffee, anyone?” And darted to the kitchen.

Cas was left sitting on his chair wondering what the hell just happened. He looked at Sam, who raised his brows in a classic ’I’ve-got-no-fucking-clue’ gesture and made a shooing motion with his hands. Cas pressed his lips together, got up and followed Dean into the kitchen.

Dean stood with his back to the door and leaned his hands to the counter, his head bowed. He looked sad and frail, and not right.

”Are you alright?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean started and visibly squared his shoulders.

”Yeah, sure. Just tired, you know,” he shrugged and started to make some coffee.

Cas nodded, although with his back still to Cas, Dean didn’t see it. ”Yes, I know. It’s been quite busy for me too.” He paused. ”Look, Dean, if you don’t like the book, please just say so. Okay?”

Dean jerked his head sharply, not turning. ”No, it’s fine. Besides, I like pie, don’t I?” He laughed and though his tone was light, something was off.

Cas blinked and tried to come up with an answer. He found none.

After Christmas Cas couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Dean, but he didn't know how to bring it up. Talking to Sam was an option, but he didn’t like the idea of going behind Dean’s back, especially now that things seemed a bit strained between the brothers. Cas had asked Sam about that, but Sam had shrugged and said that Dean was being bitchy again, and something about him throwing a hissy fit when Sam had made a joke about Dean eating all the chocolate Cas had brought. Something about the comment nagged at Cas’s subconscious, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. He almost asked Sam to stop harassing Dean, but kept his mouth shut in the end. The dynamics between the brothers were none of his business anyway.

He made a mental note to remember Dean’s birthday at the end of January. He could give the Vonnegut analysis to Dean then, and maybe even muster up enough courage to ask Dean out for a dinner - along with Sam and Madison, of course. It was Dean’s thirtieth birthday, and surely big enough an event to celebrate in a proper restaurant. Since Castiel was almost thirty-five and an adult, he should have the balls to actually do this.

He got as far as calling Sam about the plan, only to hear that Sam was going off-state for a two-month internship (”to chain himself into a tree, like the hippie he is”, Dean had said), and spending all his free time with Madison. It was understandable, but it made Cas nervous: without the makeshift shield of Sam and Madison, asking Dean out for dinner for his birthday was now definitely a date, and it raised the stakes considerably. Cas wondered where he could take Dean and what he would want to eat. Someplace nice, of course, with a decent dessert list.

But it turned out that fate had other things in store for him: two weeks after Christmas a water pipe broke in his store, soaking half his shop and almost a third of the stock beyond salvation. By sheer luck he had updated his insurance policy the previous summer, and didn’t end up bankrupt. But he was still working around the clock to clean up everything and make sure the plumbers had full access to the faulty pipes to prevent an accident like this from happening again. The only silver lining was that the holiday season was over and he was able to put practically everything on sale and start with a fresh supply of books.

At the end of February Cas was emotionally exhausted. He had finally got everything in order: all paperwork done, insurance company properly informed, new plumbing in place, his shop refurnished and the new stock of books soon arriving. It had taken almost a month and a half, but his shop was finally ready to re-open again, with updated looks and a hopefully leak-proof plumbing.

He decided to have a weekend off, to actually rewind and relax, maybe meet his friends-

-and then he realized he had completely forgotten Dean’s birthday.

Cas almost face-palmed at his own stupidity. He glanced at the clock, and saw that at 10pm, it was way too late to go to see Dean. The next day was Sunday, and to his knowledge Dean wasn’t usually working. He put a post-it note into his coffee maker to remind him to text Dean in the morning and ask if it was okay for him to stop by.

It was snowing when Cas made his way to Dean’s flat, big fluffy flakes that slowly drifted to the ground. It was quite pretty, and before he was able to stop himself, Cas wondered if Dean liked the snow. He huffed in exasperation at himself, clicking his tongue when he entered Dean’s building. He was acting like a lovesick teenager, fantasizing about walks in the park and making snow angels.

It took Dean time to answer the door, and Cas was about to press the buzzer for the third time, when the door finally opened. The flat was dim and Cas couldn’t see Dean’s face when he got inside, which was probably the reason he started when Dean turned to face him. His face was even more gaunt than at Christmas, and despite the layers (at least three shirts and a sweater) Cas could see that Dean was much thinner than before. His eyes were a little sunken and there were deep shadows under them. Cas wasn’t even remotely pleased by his looks. He swallowed and turned to take his coat off, to give himself a minute to get over the shock.

”You want some coffee?” Dean asked and headed towards the kitchen before Cas had the chance to answer.

”Um. Yes, thank you.”

Cas followed Dean into the kitchen and blinked at the empty counters. He had been to Dean’s several times and had never seen his kitchen this bare before. It was like Dean didn’t eat there. In fact, Dean looked like he hadn’t eaten properly for a while.

”Sorry, I don't have much to offer. I’ve been sick and haven’t had the time or energy to do any shopping,” Dean said apologetically while making a pot of coffee.

”Ah. Okay,” Cas answered, but the worry lingered. ”Would you like me to get you something? You don’t look so good, you know. When was the last time you ate properly?”

Dean shrugged. ”Don’t remember. Eating isn’t really the first thing on your mind when you’re puking your guts out for a week.”

Cas blinked and stared. He was quite sure you wouldn’t end up looking like Dean after just a week of stomach flu, but he decided to let it lie. He wasn’t visiting Dean to pick at him about his eating habits, so Cas just decided to run to the store instead.

”I’ll go get you some basics, okay? Some bread and yoghurt, they should be gentle enough for your stomach.” Dean started to shake his head, but Cas wasn’t having any of it. ”No, you stay here. I’ll be back in five.”

He hurried to put his coat on and turned to leave, and then remembered the real reason he was visiting Dean. He fumbled with the book, suddenly nervous. He cleared his throat and turned to face Dean, who had followed him and now cocked his head frowning tiredly.

”I’m sorry, I-.” Cas chewed his lip. ”There was an accident in my shop and I completely forgot your birthday. I had this ready and wrapped for you, but I didn't remember it in time. But better late than never, right?” He smiled tentatively and offered the gift-wrapped Vonnegut analysis to Dean, who stared at it for a moment before taking it.

”Another cookbook?” Dean asked, raising a brow.

Cas didn’t catch the weird note in Dean’s voice, but gave him a small smile and said, ”Take a look while I get you something to eat.” He picked up Dean’s keys on his way out, thinking to spare him from answering the door when he got back.

He tried to choose gentle, nutritious foods for Dean: picking high-energy yoghurt, whole-wheat bread, chocolate and, as an afterthought, a slice of fresh apple pie, because Dean loved pie and apple was his favorite. Cas thought he might have gone slightly over the top, but he didn’t linger on the thought for too long.

When he got back, Dean was sitting on the couch, curled under a blanket, and flipping through his new book. He raised his head to look at Cas when he entered the flat and gave him a bright smile that made Cas’s breath hitch a little.

”Thanks, Cas. This is awesome.”

Cas felt a pleased warmth spread somewhere in his middle, and he ducked his head and walked briskly to the kitchen to put away the groceries. He chose a small container of creamy, plain full-fat yoghurt and took it to Dean.

”Here, you should eat this.”

Dean stared at the container, turned his eyes at Cas, blinked and looked at the container again.

”What?”

”Dean, you should eat. This is good for you: probiotic, organic and high energy without too much sugar. Please?”

Dean closed his eyes for a second. ”I’m not really hungry, Cas,” he said with a strained voice.

Cas refrained from telling him that he looked anything but not-hungry, opting to go with persuasion instead. ”I know. But please, try it? Just a little? Please?” Cas coaxed gently, and with an eye-roll Dean conceded, took the container and put a spoonful into his mouth. Cas left him to sit on the couch and went to use the bathroom. When he returned, he was pleased to see that Dean had eaten the whole container, and the empty jar was on the kitchen counter, rinsed.

”So, how are things in your shop? Everything okay now?”

Cas sighed and shook his head. ”I think so, yes. Everything is finally repaired, and the new stock will be here in two weeks, which means that I’ll be able to open again in the middle of March. Fortunately, this happened after Christmas. During holiday season it would’ve been a complete disaster.”

Dean smiled minutely. ”Good timing then.”

Cas snorted. ”As if there ever is a good anything for something like this.”

A silence fell, both of them slightly uncomfortable. Then Cas coughed and excused himself, saying that he needed to leave. He didn’t actually want to go, but he couldn’t come up with a good enough of an excuse to stay, either.

His uneasy feelings about Dean followed him home, and try as he might, he couldn’t shake them off.

Sam and Madison broke up in April - something about conflicting interests - although Cas suspected the real reason was most likely residual stress from Sam’s internship. As far as Cas understood, it was a joint decision, even though it was Madison who left. Sam didn’t talk about it much and Cas didn’t push him. Mutual agreement or not, break-ups were always difficult. At least that was his understanding. Cas didn’t have very much experience with break-ups since he didn’t have very much experience in relationships to begin with. But he had eyes and ears.

For some reason, Sam didn’t tell Dean about the break-up. Dean heard it from Cas in early May, when he came to Cas’s bookshop to find a birthday present for his brother. Cas didn’t even think about it when he asked if Sam was getting over Madison, but he realized his blunder when he saw the look on Dean’s face. Dean was hurt, but in a subdued, resigned way, and he evaded Cas’s questions about whether he was fine or not. Dean just shrugged absently and muttered that if Sam didn't want to tell him anything, it was his right and it wasn’t like he was responsible to Dean anyway. He sounded so lonely and tired, and Cas wanted to do something to make him feel better, but he didn’t know what.

Dean sighed and proceeded to look for a present for Sam. He moved between the shelves like an old man, slowly and carefully, like he didn’t trust his legs to support him. Cas watched him with concern, noted the multiple layers he was wearing despite the warm weather and suddenly realized how thin Dean actually was.

Cas blinked and frowned. Had Dean been so gaunt before? He tried to remember the blissful September night they had spent together, and was forced to admit that Dean definitely had not been thin then. When asked, he had admitted Cas that he had lost weight, but that had been months ago, and it seemed as if the man had gotten even thinner since then. So thin, in fact, that there was no way it was even remotely healthy.

When had he last really talked to Dean, like they used to? After they had slept together, things had gotten strained, and Dean had gradually started to drift away from him. Even more since Christmas and Dean’s forgotten birthday. It had been ages since they had sat down for a coffee, and even longer since the last shared meal at Denny’s.

Something clenched inside his chest. When was the last time he had seen Dean eat anything, apart from the yoghurt he had practically forced down Dean’s throat? With a pang Cas realized that, apart from the first spoonful, he hadn’t actually seen Dean eat it, he had only assumed that he had when he saw the empty container on the kitchen counter.

He swallowed and walked after Dean, and took the time to really look at his friend. Dean’s face was drawn and pale, his eyes sunken in their sockets, and he looked like he was about to faint. Cas felt alarmed and angry at himself for being too preoccupied to notice that Dean was in such a bad shape, and he barely resisted the urge of just to grab Dean and cradle him in his arms. He needed to think about this, to get more information and finally try to be a good friend to Dean.

Cas plastered a smile on his face and walked to Dean, asking what he had chosen for Sam. He kept a close eye on Dean, cataloguing his posture, his wandering mind, the slightly vacant look in Dean’s eyes and his slipping concentration. Cas helped Dean to choose a suitable gift and wrapped it, and when he gave the bag to Dean, he held on for a moment, holding Dean’s stare and said, ”We should go for a coffee some day.”

Something flickered in Dean’s eyes before they slipped away from his.

”Yeah,” he answered before he took the bag and left.

Cas leaned on the counter and stared his hands for a long moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he set on the unpleasant task of googling.

”When was the last time you saw Dean eat?”

”What do you mean? We went to Denny’s yesterday for my birthday and Dean ordered his usual.”

”But did you actually see him eat anything?”

There was silence while Sam thought. ”I’m not really sure. I was so caught up with my rambling about Madison that I didn’t pay it any attention. But I think he ate. Yeah, he must’ve eaten.” Pause. ”Why do you ask?”

”Sam, did you look at your brother at all? He’s way too thin and he’s dressed up in several layers of clothing even though weather is getting warmer all the time.”

”So what if he’s lost some weight? He was a bit pudgy to begin with, and he’s always had some weight troubles anyway. Besides, shouldn’t you be pleased? He won't crush you in bed, now.” There was a wry chuckle, but Cas wasn’t exactly amused.

”For heaven’s sake, Sam!” Cas snapped, tired of this ridiculousness. ”First of all we’re not a couple, not even friends with benefits, and you know that. Secondly, whatever gave you the idea that I would give a damn about Dean’s weight?”

”Don’t you?”

”What’s that supposed to mean? Sam… has Dean said something?”

There was an awkward silence, and then Sam said, reluctantly. ”After you slept together, Dean was jittery, and at some point, after several beers and a hell of a lot coaxing he said that you had called him pudgy.”

Cas was struck speechless. He had no recollection of saying anything even remotely like that.

”Sam, I swear-”

”You didn’t? Are you sure? You both were pretty shitfaced after all.”

Cas rubbed his face. His memory was a bit fuzzy, but he was adamant… pretty sure… almost certain - Shit. Had he really said that? Why? He had loved the way Dean’s middle had felt under his hands.

”Oh shit, I don’t know,” he said out loud.

Sam sighed. ”That might explain why he’s been ’dieting’ all these months.”

”But why? I never thought he was ’pudgy’!”

”Cas, honestly, you can’t be that dim. He’s doing it because of you. If he believes you called him fat, he might actually try to lose weight to appeal you.” There was a pause, then, ”Oh fuck…”

”What?” Cas asked alarmed.

”I can't believe I actually forgot all about it. This isn’t the first time. Oh fuck. Fucking fuck shit fuck!”

Cas pulled the phone off from his ear and stared at it. He had never heard Sam swear like that, and for a moment he wanted to giggle, just because. But then the reality of the situation hit him.

”Not the first time?”

Sam sighed. ”No. I was nine or ten at the time. Dean had a serious crush on this girl, and it wasn’t reciprocated, but for some reason Dean got it to his head that if he tried hard enough, he could be enough for that girl… Rhonda or something. I don’t know everything, but from what I can remember, she pushed Dean around a lot and then rejected him and everything went to hell. Dad was away and things got really bad before anyone interfered. Dean was hospitalized for a couple of weeks, and after that we moved again, and it was sort of silently forgotten.”

Cas had to sit down, the information hitting him like a hammer.

”Sam, I think we need to get to him as soon as possible.”

For a couple of seconds, silence.

”Fuck this. Are you home or at the shop?”

”Home.”

”Make yourself ready. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Cas put the phone down and rubbed his face, with a sick feeling in his gut.

No-one answered the door, but fortunately Sam had the spare key. They entered Dean’s flat carefully, not sure what they were going to find, but it was silent and seemed empty.

”Dean?” Sam called, but got no answer.

Sam made a beeline to the bedroom, and Cas walked to the kitchen and found it as empty as it had been when he had last visited Dean. He looked into the fridge and found only diet sodas and the containers of yoghurt he had bought Dean ages ago. It was painfully obvious that Dean had not eaten them, and Cas wondered if Dean had actually eaten anything lately.

”Cas! Call an ambulance!” Sam shouted, and Cas thought his heart might stop. He dialed 911 as he hurried to the bedroom, but when he got to the door, he stopped.

The man lying on the bed was not Dean. He was like a shrunken shell of the man Cas had known previously. There was no way this gaunt shape was Dean, brilliant, beautiful Dean. Sam had sunk to his knees beside the bed, tears leaking from his eyes, his hand resting on Dean’s cheek, talking urgently to his big brother, who looked like a corpse.

It took Cas a second to realize someone was calling sharply him through the phone. He reoriented himself with a shake of his head.

”I-. I’m sorry. Yes- yes we need an ambulance. Thirty years old male, starved-. No, he’s not conscious-. Yes, he’s breathing-.” He checked and saw Dean’s chest rise and fall with fluttering, uneven slow breaths. He rattled Dean’s address and said he would wait outside to meet the paramedics. He then ended the call and stared mutely at Dean, hit with the sudden realization that if he lost Dean, he would lose so much more than just a friend.

It felt like forever before the ambulance arrived, and Cas nearly called 911 again, just to make sure they had taken his call seriously. But the ambulance did arrive, with brusque paramedics who didn’t waste their time for chatting, but immediately started the he task of checking Dean’s vitals, installing an IV-line, and hooking him onto monitors Cas understood nothing about.

When they left for the hospital, Sam rode with Dean in the ambulance. After a moment of hesitation, Cas followed with Sam’s car. He knew he wasn’t family and, therefore, not entitled to any information regarding Dean’s condition, but at least he could be there for Sam. It took him a while to find a place to park Sam’s car, and when he got to the ER, there was no Sam nor Dean to be seen anywhere. Just as he had anticipated, he was kindly but firmly directed to the waiting area by the ER nurse, and ordered to wait until Sam or someone else came for him.

”Castiel Novak?” A voice called after a couple of hours, and Cas almost fell from his chair. He had been nodding off despite the highly uncomfortable chair, and it took a moment for his muddled brain to realize someone had called his name.

”Um. Yes?”

”You can go see your boyfriend now.”

Cas blinked. The nurse had said something because her lips had moved and sound had come out, but Cas didn’t understand a word she had said.

”Ah…”

”Dean Winchester, room 8, the last bed on the left.” The nurse’s voice was kind with a hint of impatience. And because Cas didn't know what else to do, he nodded. The nurse seemed satisfied with that, turned, and walked away.

Cas stood slowly up and started towards room 8. He didn’t know why the nurse thought he was Dean’s boyfriend, but if that was what it took for him to see Dean, he could roll with it.

The curtains were drawn around said bed. Cas approached it a little hesitantly and peeked carefully behind the curtain. Sam was sitting beside the bed, holding Dean’s hand in his own and resting his head to his other hand. Dean was hooked on monitors, he had several IV-drips attached to the cannula in his arm and an oxygen tube on. He looked old and frail, like a man dying, nothing like the loud and lively man Cas had learned to know him to be.

Cas touched Sam softly to the shoulder and Sam jumped a little.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Cas said quietly.

Sam exhaled and rubbed his face. ”It’s okay, I drifted off. Would you mind sitting with him for a while? I need to make some calls.”

”Of course. You should eat something, too.”

Sam nodded, got up and circled around the chair to step out of the little space delineated by the curtains. He looked terribly old and young at the same time, his face haggard and gray and his eyes red. Cas remembered suddenly that Dean was not only Sam’s brother, he was practically the only real family Sam had ever had. Dean had been Sam’s constant, his lifeline and anchor: all in one package, brother, father and role model. Despite his age and size Sam was forever the little brother, and seeing Dean broken and vulnerable had cracked something inside him.

Sam gripped Cas by the shoulder when he passed, and Cas went to take his place beside Dean’s bed. Sam stopped as an afterthought, and turned towards Cas.

”Um. About the boyfriend thing-,” he started, a little embarrassed.

Cas shook his head, not looking at Sam. ”Don’t worry about that, I know why you did it. Thank you.”

”Okay. Good,” Sam said and then he was gone.

Cas stared at Dean for a moment, then reached out hesitantly and took Dean’s hand into his own. It was cool and dry, the bones and joints protruding, skin like paper with veins dimly visible through it. Cas bit his lip.

This was not Dean, this could not be Dean.

”Why?”

Cas hadn’t meant it to ask it out loud, but once the word was let loose, it was like something had been unleashed inside him. He remembered enough from the websites he had read that it probably wasn’t the wisest move to say any of this to Dean, but he couldn't help himself. If he really had triggered this with a careless word in his inebriated state, he could never forgive himself.

”Why would you do something like this to yourself? Why do you feel so bad that you felt compelled to punish yourself? Didn’t you believe you would be enough just the way you were? Did you really think that Sam or I would’ve wanted you to be something else?”

Cas closed his eyes and bowed his head.

”I’m sorry if I said something that made you feel inadequate. I don’t remember what I said, but I’m absolutely sure I never meant to hurt your feelings. You were enough for me then, Dean. You’ve always been enough for me. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to say it before.”

He raised his head slowly to look at Dean and almost hoped to see Dean stare back at him. But of course he didn’t, he was still under. Cas sighed.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Cas turned sharply around to meet the cool eyes of a doctor.

”So, you’re the boyfriend?”

”Um. It’s complicated.” Cas stammered, still a bit over his head to be called Dean’s boyfriend. He had a fleeting panicky thought of what the doctor would think about him, if she thought that Cas was a total dick, letting his boyfriend end up like this.

”Relationships are,” the doctor commented calmly. ”Is the brother around?”

”He went to make some phone calls and to get something to eat. Why? Is something wrong?”

The doctor pursed her lips. ”Nothing immediate, we can wait for him. I’ll check in on you later.” She nodded and walked briskly away. Cas stared worriedly after her, but he deduced that she probably wouldn’t have left if something was seriously wrong with Dean. Well, in addition to starvation, that was.

Sam took his time, but Cas didn’t mind. He sat patiently beside Dean’s bed, traced the tendons and veins of his hand and counted the fluttering pulse on his wrist. He looked back at the information he had read from the various websites, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dean was truly and really suffering from a severe form of anorexia, and both he and Sam had been completely oblivious to it.

But that wasn’t exactly true. Cas could track back to several occasions when he had felt something was wrong, but he had never acted on it. He had never been able to put his finger on it, but now it was like Dean’s odd behavior made sense. What if he had thought about it more? Would he have been able to prevent this if he had been braver? If he hadn’t been too busy with his own life to actually look around and think about others for a change, would it have made a difference?

Had he let Dean down?

He started when Sam put his palm on his shoulder and offered him a cup of coffee.

”Here,” Sam said. ”It tastes like shit, but at least it’s warm.”

Cas made an attempt to get up, but Sam shook his head and pushed him back.

”I have another chair, don’t get up,” he said, and set another chair to the other side of Dean’s bed. ”Any change?”

Cas shook his head. ”No. Oh, the doctor stopped by. She said she wanted to talk to us, but that it was okay to wait for you. She said she would come back later.”

Sam nodded mutely, dropped onto his chair and buried his head to his hands.

”I don’t-. Why didn’t I- Cas, I can’t-,” and then Sam was crying, painful heaving sobs that raked through his frame.

Cas didn’t say a word, because he knew exactly how Sam was feeling, and kept asking himself the same questions.

The ER was busy and it took time for the doctor to come back. When she did, she looked tired to the bone and she had a smudge of blood on her coat.

”Good, you’re both here. Let’s get this settled, then.” Despite the weariness her voice was all business. ”I’m Dr. Talbot and in charge of Dean today. As you are probably aware, he’s severely anorexic, and by the look of him, has been for a while now. I take it that the severity of the situation came as a surprise for you both?” She didn’t wait for an answer. ”Usually male anorexia manifests in excessive exercise and a restrictive diet, but the starvation form isn’t uncommon either. The basic principle is the same regardless of the gender: the person consumes less energy than their body requires, and over an extended period of time the body starts to consume itself.

”I don’t think I’d be too wrong to guess Dean is more than 20% below his ideal body weight, which means that in addition to the blood and urine tests and the ECG I’m ordering a heart echo and thoracic and brain scans. And if this has been going on for over six months, we’ll also test his testosterone levels and check his bone density.”

Cas couldn't help himself. ”Is he going to die?”

Dr. Talbot sighed. ”I don’t think so, although I can’t promise anything yet. But if he survives, there are no guarantees on what damage his body has suffered and whether he’ll recover from them or not.”

”So, what happens now?” Sam asked quietly.

”At the moment we’re concentrating on stabilizing him, getting him hydrated and making sure his kidneys still work properly,” Dr. Talbot answered. ”He’s going to stay here for now, and when he no longer requires intensive monitoring… well, I suppose he’s going to rehab. Assuming he want’s to live, of course.”

Cas turned sharply to Dr. Talbot. ”What do you mean, ’assuming he want’s to live?’”

Dr. Talbot raised a placating hand. ”I’m not an expert on eating disorders, nor a psychiatrist, but when the eating disorder reaches a certain point, it really is a matter of a choice. The reasons behind the disorder are various, but they usually boil down to things like depression, loneliness, insecurity, pressure to be perfect, or feeling out of control. In a way, anorexia is an attempt to control one’s life and emotions.” Dr. Talbot stopped and looked at Dean. ”He has to decide that he want’s to live, in order to survive.”

Cas turned to look at Dean with wide eyes. What if Dean decided that he didn’t want to live anymore?

Everything around him slowed down, words turning into a low static that buzzed around him. Cas concentrated all his attention on Dean: his breathing, his fluttering pulse, the slow drip of saline into his IV-line. He willed the heart to keep on pumping, the lungs constricting and expanding, the synapses connecting. Cas willed Dean to live with all his heart, but with a sinking feeling he realized that his will might not be enough.

”Cas?” Sam touched his hand from the other side of the bed and Cas snapped out of his zone.

”I’m sorry, what?”

”I said that the last time Dean hated being hospitalized, even though it was needed. I’ve made preliminary arrangements with my teachers so I can drop my last classes before summer vacation and finish them as written assignments instead. I played the family emergency card and it worked out. I’ll be able to stay with Dean and look after him during the day while I study.”

Cas looked at Sam for a moment. ”Which means that I’m looking after him during the night, because you need to sleep.” He nodded. ”It’s okay by me.”

”Well, that’s all nice and cozy, but you still need a clearance from his doctor when the time comes,” Dr. Talbot said. ”And don't look at me, I can’t make such a promise. Dean needs to stay in for a while, and it’s up to him and his future doctor whether or not he’ll be released into your care when the time arrives.” She shook her head. ”Dean is seriously ill, and you need to be fully invested if you intend to see this through. He’s going to need physical and nutritional therapy, as well as psychiatric help, and, as I said, there are no guarantees of what the long-term effects of his starvation are.”

They watched Dean for a moment. Then Dr. Talbot sighed. ”It’s not a walk in the park, you know. Dean will need constant supervision and care, no matter how complicated things are,” she said pointedly, and Cas knew, even without looking, that her eyes were fixed on him.

”The complicatedness was never on my side. If Dean is willing, I’m ready to do this,” Cas said softly, keeping his eyes on the unconscious form on the bed.

”Alright,” Dr. Talbot said. ”Let’s hope for the best, then.”

Dean stayed in the hospital for three weeks. He went through various tests to check if he was suffering from major organ failure, which he fortunately wasn’t. It was enough that he was slightly osteoporotic, was going to need regular check-ups with his heart and kidney function, and he was going to probably suffer from impotence for a good while. Not that any of that actually mattered to Cas: Dean wasn't going to die. At least not yet, anyway.

It was a battle to convince the doctors to release Dean into Sam and Cas’s care. It was understandable of course, since Dean’s condition had been so severe, but in the end they (most likely) got tired and annoyed enough to agree. The schedules, food nutrition charts and support group information Sam presented them on several spreadsheets probably helped. If nothing else, they were impressed about the sheer amount of information Sam had dug up in a relatively short amount of time.

When they contacted the hardware store Dean worked for to inform them he would be in no condition to work for some time, they had found out that the company had been forced to fire several employees due financial struggle, and Dean had been one of them. Turned out that Dean hadn’t been able to find another job and had slowly run out of money, and, too stubborn to ask for help, was a month behind in his rent already. They really had no choice but to let the apartment go, after Cas had taken care of the overdue rent and assured the paranoid landlord that Dean hadn’t turned the flat into a crack den.

They had half-heartedly argued over where Dean would stay, but there was only one logical option, as Cas flatly refused to turn Sam’s home into a sickbay. He still needed a place to study and sleep in peace, and Cas’s apartment was bigger and logistically more reasonable, being close to his work. Of course, Dean argued against it, but his opinion was ignored.

”It’s Cas’s place or rehab, Dean. Choose,” Sam said, and they all knew there wasn’t really a choice. Dean would rather die than be admitted even a day longer than absolutely necessary, but it didn’t stop him from seething.

”I don’t need fucking babysitting!” Dean hissed under his breath. Sam only shook his head tiredly.

”Actually, you do.” Sam sighed. ”You nearly starved yourself to death, so we’re not leaving you alone, even if we at some point want to. Your attending doctor is way too scary to intentionally piss off.”

Dean snarled and turned to his side to sulk. It would’ve been amusing if it wasn’t such a pitifully frail and careful movement. It nearly broke Cas’s heart.

It was almost the middle of June when Dean was finally released and Sam and Cas got the permission to take him home. They were provided with a stack of papers: info leaflets, important contact information and, of course, the deadlines by which Dean was expected to reach a certain weight. It felt bad, to be so blatantly told that if Dean didn’t gain enough weight he would be hospitalized with or without his consent, but it only spurred Sam and Cas’s determination to make everything work.

As Cas rearranged his bedroom and made it ready for Dean, he considered briefly where he would sleep. He needed to be in the bedroom since he was not supposed to leave Dean alone, but he seriously doubted he could share the bed with Dean. Or well, he could, but he wasn’t so sure Dean would be enthusiastic about the idea. He settled on a mattress on the floor, and decided that sharing the room was enough.

In the beginning Dean was so physically and emotionally exhausted that he mainly slept throughout the day and night. Sam and Cas kept to his schedule with meticulous care, feeding Dean his supplements and specially selected foods, and later, when he finally was able to eat by himself, they sat beside him to make sure he actually ate. It was frustrating, grating and embarrassing to all of them, but it was necessary.

Dean was also meant to have psychiatric help, but they decided to start with the therapy later, when Dean had gained a bit more strength. As far as Cas knew, Dean (and Sam) had a lot of baggage left by their dad, and he knew, even without asking, that Dean’s father was the main reason for Dean’s problems. John had been a strict and demanding parent, and had tolerated no weakness, weeding sentiment out of his sons with militant care. Being the eldest, Dean had borne the brunt of it. John never hit his sons, but Cas knew that you didn’t need physical violence to break a person. Emotional deprivation and mental cruelty were just as bad, or even worse.

It would be very difficult to gauge John’s influence on Dean, perhaps even impossible. But damned if Cas wasn't going to try!

”You’re a fucking idiot, Dean!”

Cas could hear the shouting through the closed door when he got back from work. He sighed and stopped by the door. One of those days, then. Dean’s stubbornness had increased along with his weight, and the brothers fought almost daily now. In a way it was a good thing, because it meant that Dean’s physical condition was improving, but it was mentally exhausting. Sam couldn't understand why Dean was so ungrateful and Dean… Cas didn’t know what Dean thought.

Cas opened the door to the battlefield.

Sam was standing in the middle of the living room, his side to the door, shouting with frustration. ”I just don’t understand why you are so fucking determined to end yourself. Yeah, I’m bugging you about the food because I want to keep you alive, damn it!”

”Why?” Came a muffled snarl from Cas’s bedroom.

”Why?” Sam repeated incredulously. ”Because I care about you! Cas does too.”

”Well, that’s your mistake.”

Cas saw Sam’s face distort into an ugly grimace. ”Fuck you, Dean!” Sam spat. ”You're my brother and I love you, but sometimes you’re a total dick.”

There was a slow shuffle from the direction of the bedroom and Dean’s voice drifted closer. ”Yeah, well. You have a familial obligation, but Cas doesn’t.”

”Goddammit Dean!” Sam growled. ”Cas loves you, you fucking moron. He’s just too afraid to say it and you’re too fucking stupid to see it.”

Cas stood still, eyes wide, barely daring to breathe. The shuffling came closer and then Dean was leaning to the doorframe and his eyes snapped into Cas’s. From the corner of his eye Cas saw Sam stiffen as he realized Cas was standing behind him and he turned slowly around.

”Um,” Sam said, but Cas shook his head slightly.

”I think I’ll take it from here,” Cas said quietly, and Sam swallowed, hastily packed his books and practically fled the flat.

Cas turned and walked calmly into the kitchen. His thoughts were in turmoil and his guts were tied in a tight, clammy knot, but he let none of it show. He felt Dean’s eyes bore into the back of his neck, but he resisted the urge to fidget.

He checked the chart taped onto the fridge door. ”According to this you need to eat, and by the argument you just had with your brother I figure you haven’t eaten. So, a cheeseburger or some soup from yesterday?”

”What?”

”I bought you a cheeseburger,” Cas said. ”It’s a healthier version, but it’s a burger. I’m fine with the soup.”

He turned around to look at Dean and raised his brows.

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head aside a bit. ”Yeah, whatever,” he muttered and walked slowly to the the table and sat down.

Cas handed him the take away bag and heated a bowl of soup for himself. They sat in silence, Dean forcing himself to eat, Cas forcing himself to admit that they needed to talk.

After a moment Cas sighed and put his spoon down. ”Sam was right, you know,” he said quietly.

Dean froze in the middle of chewing and turned his eyes very slowly to Cas, who met them briefly, before letting his gaze slide to the soup bowl in front of him.

”That night with you… To me, it was like a dream come true. But then you were gone and I-. I thought you didn’t want me, and…” Cas exhaled. ”What I mean is that you are important to me, Dean. But it’s okay if you don’t want me back, I just want you to get better, okay?”

Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean’s, and saw something raw and desperate flash in them, before Dean ducked his head, swallowed and whispered, ”Okay.”

The summer was marked by Dean’s struggle to learn how to eat again and reluctantly admitting that he needed help, Sam accepting his newly frail big brother, and Cas coming to terms with the fact that he was hopelessly and completely in love with Dean and had been for quite some time already.

Summers in general tended to be easier in the bookshop. This allowed Cas way too much time to think. It was unfortunate in a way, because sooner or later he ended up mooning over memories of green eyes, warm skin and plush lips, and his shop really wasn’t the appropriate place to have a full hard-on, even though he owned the place himself.

On the other hand, slower summers also meant that Cas could keep the shop closed on weekends. He had never done that before, then again he had never been in a situation like this, either. It was a bit tight, financially, but he had made good profit during the holiday season, and now with the reduced opening hours, he could avoid hiring help over the summer. It wasn’t a nice thing to do to Kevin, who had been a huge help in the shop, but in order to survive the summer and spend as much time with Dean as possible, Cas really didn't see any other option. Besides, having weekends off meant that Cas could give Sam Dean-free, for which the man was very grateful, even though he tried to hide it in front of Dean.

Things got a little easier after Sam completed his assignments, at least in the sense that Sam had more time to spend with Dean instead of just being in the same room with him. If the weather was nice, they would pack their lunch and make long, slow walks in the park, or just sit at the bench and watch the birds, clouds or do nothing at all. Dean had grumbled about the ’girly activity,’ but his objections were quickly overruled. It didn’t take that long for him to start to actually enjoy the quiet walks, but he never said it aloud. But then, he didn’t have to, because Sam and Cas knew it anyway.

Despite the increased time the brothers spent together, things weren’t alright between them. Cas wasn’t sure what was going on, and it wasn’t as if they talked about it. After all, the Winchester way was to clam up and live in denial, which meant that majority of what they let to show was fabrication and not to be taken seriously. Cas knew that he was emotionally stunted, but compared to the brothers he felt like a fucking giant redwood. He hoped that Sam and Dean would work out their issues and have some bonding time during summer. They were each other’s only family, after all.

It wasn’t all bad news, though. As if by a miracle they had been able to persuade Dean to look for a psychiatrist, and they were all relieved when the frustrating business of finding one that Dean could stand was finally over. The psychiatrist was an interesting combination of motherly softness and I’m-not-buying-any-of-your-shit badass. She demanded they call her Jody. After the first meeting (where she told them she could provide group and couples counseling too) Cas felt quite confident in leaving Dean with her. The lady clearly knew how to handle challenging clients.

They also got a green light from the hospital during the check-ups. The doctors were pleased Dean’s weight was going up, that he had a steady routine and was finally going to therapy. They listened to endless lectures about nutrition, the importance of therapy, and the meaning of loving people around the recovering person. Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, and Cas ducked his head, unsure of what to say. They still hadn’t talked about it since Sam and Dean’s argument. Cas hadn’t gotten the courage to further address the issue. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to, he just… needed to wait for the right moment, right?

As fall neared, they started thinking about logistics again. Summer had gone pretty well, but now Sam really needed to actually attend his lessons. So they agreed to a two-week trial: Sam would study as normal, Cas would go to his shop and Dean would stay at Cas’s place, take a little walk in the park, go to movies or do whatever he wanted. His only obligation was to be at home when Cas returned from work and eat everything that was allocated to him that day. It started well, but it didn’t take more than a week for Cas to realize Dean had stopped eating again.

When Sam found out he threw a fit and stormed out, screaming that he was so fucking done; that if Dean was so goddamn eager to end himself, he should go and get a gun and just get on with it, before he slammed out of the house. Dean’s whole demeanor crumbled, and he swayed before he turned and staggered into the bedroom. Cas stood still in the middle of the living room and wondered how the fuck was he going to fix this.

His phone beeped, and even before looking he knew the message was from Sam.

> I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said it.

> It’s not me you should apologize to.

> I know. I just don’t understand why he’s doing this!

> I don’t think he understands it himself. Your father has a great influence on him, even from the grave.

> Dad? What the hell does dad have to do with this?

> Dean’s been conditioned since childhood. When he fails the standards your father ingrained into him, he turns against himself.

Silence. Cas wondered if this was the first time Sam was forced to face what kind of a father John had been to Dean. But because he had no time to coddle Sam, he sent yet another message.

> I think you should take a break for a while. This is hard for you, too. I’ll let you know how things go from here.

He put his phone on silent mode and put it on the kitchen counter. Then he turned to face the bedroom and braced himself.

Dean was laying on his side, curled in a fetal position on the bed, facing the wall. Cas wasn’t sure how to proceed, so he just walked to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress and reached a hesitant hand to touch Dean on the shoulder.

”Why are you still here?”

Dean’s voice was muffled and watery, and Cas had to stop himself from just gripping him tight and enveloping him in an all-encompassing hug.

”Where else would I be?” He asked gently instead.

Dean snorted. ”I’m a failure. A mess. You should just dump me already.”

”No.”

”I mean it, Cas! I’m a burden, I’m nothing. I can’t even fucking make myself eat right. I can’t- I just can’t-”

”That’s not true, Dean.” He reached out to caress Dean’s cheek despite himself, and Dean jerked like his touch burned the skin.

”Why?” Dean drew a ragged breath. ”Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He started to shake with silent sobs, and Cas’s heart broke. He lay down behind Dean and gathered him into his arms. Dean was slightly taller than him and had always been bulkier, but now he seemed so small and vulnerable in Cas’s hold.

He pressed a chaste kiss into the nape of Dean’s neck and whispered, ”I always thought it was quite obvious.”

Cas held Dean close until the sobs quietened, until Dean’s breath evened out and he fell asleep. Then Cas burrowed his face in Dean’s back, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

After that day, Cas didn’t sleep on the mattress on the floor.

Cas and Dean made a deal: Dean would accompany Cas to the bookshop, help wherever he wanted or had energy to, and eat absolutely everything Cas brought him. They were on a tight schedule with the next check-up approaching, and Cas was pretty sure Dean would be admitted if his weight went down. Dean grumbled half-heartedly but agreed to the terms, probably realizing that he really had no choice if he wanted to stay out of the hospital.

It took two weeks for Sam to return. He didn’t call beforehand, but appeared at Cas’s door, sporting an apprehensive look. Cas greeted him with a smile, and then retreated to the kitchen to give the brothers some privacy. He took his time preparing dinner and making coffee, and announced his presence before walking to the living room, just in time to see Sam and Dean part from a hug, eyes red and puffy. When Dean said that Sam would stay for dinner, Cas let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Dean claimed he wasn’t a cuddler, but he ended up burrowed in Cas’s arms anyway.

The morning after his emotional breakdown Dean had fled from Cas’s embrace and locked himself in the bathroom, only opening the door after Cas had to threatened to pick the lock. The following night Dean had wrapped himself in his blanket and curled on the edge of the mattress, but in the morning they had woken up tangled together, with Dean making an excellent imitation of an octopus. This time Cas was prepared, tightening his hold when Dean jerked awake.

”You don’t have to,” he said softly into Dean’s hair. ”I like being near you and holding you. And to be honest, I think you need this.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dean relaxed and Cas loosened his arms, but kept rubbing Dean’s back.

Things slowly improved, as Dean became more comfortable with being physically close to Cas. Despite Cas’s slowly growing sexual frustration, they kept their pajamas on, and Cas steadfastly kept himself in check and waited for Dean to be ready. But it was literally hard sometimes, to have Dean so close and just wait, not knowing when he would be allowed to touch for pleasure, not for comfort.

Then, in a certain night in September, Cas decided to be brave.

”Why did you leave? Back then, why did you leave in the morning?” He asked softly, drawing little circles on Dean’s chest. The fabric of the shirt was worn and soft, but Cas would’ve rather drawn the circles on Dean’s skin instead.

Dean tensed in his arms. Cas was glad they were not facing each other, knowing Dean’s uneasiness with everything related to feelings. When Dean started to shake his head, Cas interrupted him.

”Dean, please. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know.” He paused for a second. ”Did I do this? Did I say or do something that caused all this?”

Dean was silent, and that itself was enough of an answer to Cas. He closed his eyes and wondered how the hell was he ever going to make this right. He didn’t expect Dean to speak, and, for that reason, jumped a little when he did.

”You… had your hands on my stomach, and you said I was soft.” Dean’s voice was flat and quiet and Cas had to strain his ears to hear properly.

Oh. ”Oh Dean,” Cas sighed and hugged him closer. ”It wasn’t a complaint.”

Dean let out a strangled sound. ”I don’t get it. How can you like me? I’m broken. You could find someone better. You deserve someone better, someone perfect.”

Cas shook his head and rested his forehead on the back of Dean’s head. ”’I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more…’”

”What?” Dean whispered hoarsely.

Cas gathered him closer. ”Not my words, but it doesn’t make them any less true.”

Dean was breathing shakily, with shuddering gulps, and Cas held him until he fell asleep.

Three weeks later Dean turned around in bed, reached out to take Cas’s hand and slipped it under his shirt.

”Please,” he said so softly that Cas almost didn’t hear him.

Cas pressed his palm gently to the small of Dean’s back. ”Are you sure?”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, and Cas let himself touch.

When Dean shyly asked if he could actually do some work in the shop instead of just wandering around, Cas was more than happy to accept. He wanted to pay Dean, but he flatly refused.

”I owe you a month’s rent, Cas. You’re so not paying me anything.”

Cas grumbled, but let it lie. He didn’t bring up the issue of the salary anymore, but neither did he tell Dean that he had opened an account on his name and deposited his paycheck there.

Of course they had to think hard about what Dean was able to do. He was still recovering, but none of them would’ve thought that the children's section would prove to be the safe haven for Dean to work in. Kids seemed to sense his frailty and realize that he was in no hurry for them to go. Dean would happily sit on the floor and have a serious conversation with a two-year-old about the true meaning of a purple caterpillar with zebra-striped wings. Cas thought it was amazing.

The days grew steadily colder as winter creeped up, and the world around them slowly started to prepare for Christmas. One morning, when Cas woke to see the ground white with snow, he was reminded of the day a year ago, when he had had the flash of him and Dean in a ’Love Story’ scene. He shivered when he realized how close they had actually come to creating their own ’Love Story.’ As much as he liked the film, he had no real desire to live through it.

The intimacy between them grew stronger slowly but steadily. Cas ensured Dean knew that they proceeded at his pace, and they would do only what he felt comfortable. He never commented on Dean’s impotence, only reminded Dean that he was so much more than his physical self, and as beautiful as his erect cock had been, he loved it just as much when it was flaccid, just like he loved everything else about Dean’s body, because it was him. Whenever Dean initiated sex, Cas made a point of making him feel as good as possible, like he could literally love Dean healthy again.

”I’m not going to break, you know,” Dean said to him one night, when Cas made love to him slowly and carefully. Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean’s gaze, and Dean rolled his eyes.

”Cas, honestly. You can actually fuck me into the mattress.”

He stared Dean a moment, giving him a chance to change his mind. When he didn’t, Cas pulled out, flipped Dean on to his stomach and set himself the task of ”fucking Dean into the mattress.” A short while later he came with a hoarse cry and collapsed on top of Dean. When he turned them to their sides, his hand hit a wet spot under Dean’s groin.

Maybe they both had needed the proof that Dean wouldn’t break.

The holiday season was driving Cas crazy, again. Even with Kevin and Meg he was still drowning in work, and if it wasn’t for Dean taking care of the children’s books, he would’ve truly been lost. As he recovered, Dean gained confidence and took on more responsibilities. Before Cas even realized it, Dean was in charge of the entire kid’s section. He redecorated it to stand out from the rest of the shop (”This is a caterpillar cave, Cas!”), and then, one day, spontaneously started story time for the kids, while their parents conducted their Christmas shopping. When Cas saw Dean sitting on the floor, surrounded by kids, reading The Big Friendly Giant, he stopped in the middle of stacking the shelf and stared. It took Meg’s dry ”You’re drooling, boss,” to get him to move again.

A week before Christmas a family with their small girl, about four years old, approached Dean. Cas was once again lost in the efficient process of mooning over the man he was in love with, and was therefore in the perfect spot to listen to the conversation from behind a low bookshelf he pretended to be inventorying.

”You’re really thin,” the little girl said after a long and hard scrutiny.

Cas saw the girl’s parents draw a shocked breath, but Dean wasn’t fazed. He looked at the girl solemnly and nodded.

The little girl scrunched her brow, thinking hard. ”Why?” She asked, and Cas saw the involuntary twitch from the girl’s mother.

Dean shrugged and knelt in front of the girl.

”I thought I needed to be something that I wasn’t, and I tried to change myself to match that. And because of that I… forgot myself and it made me sick.”

”That’s stupid,” the girl said flatly, and Dean’s lips twitched.

”Yeah, that’s true.” He agreed. ”But you know what? I was much thinner a while ago, but I’m better now.”

The little girl cocked her head. ”Why?”

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor and there was a moment of silence that made Cas to hold his breath. Then Dean raised his head and looked straight at Cas, who was too late in trying to duck behind the low bookshelf.

”Because I have people who love me and who think I’m worth it. And they almost make me believe it myself.”

Cas blinked hard to clear his vision. He was barely able to hold himself back and wait for the little girl and her parents to move a couple of steps away, before he rushed to Dean, who was in the process of getting up from the floor. Cas grabbed Dean’s face between his hands and kissed him messily, passionately, right there in the middle of his bookshop, and he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

”I love you,” he whispered into Dean’s lips.

Dean froze for a second, then buried his face in Cas’s neck and answered in a muffled voice, ”I love you too.”