Chapter Text
1993 - 22 years ago…
“I hate you!” Dean screamed at his father. How could he do this? They had just lost mom. Now, they were moving across the country, leaving Kansas for Washington. Leaving their friends…leaving Cas.
“Dean, I know you’re angry, but I’ve got to start fresh. There’s work in the northwest.”
Sam, at twelve, was looking back and forth between the two. Dean would have just packed his shit and ran away, but he couldn’t leave Sam. Sammy was still reeling from their mother’s death. The cancer had been swift. Diagnosed one day and four months later, she was gone.
The next week was too short. Dean spent every spare minute with Cas. They would lie on the hood of the Impala and stare at the stars, making plans to meet again at college. Cas had been accepted at Auburn University’s School of Architecture. Dean would apply when the time came. Two years wasn’t that far away…they’d keep in touch with phone calls and letters.
The UHaul truck was packed with their belongings, the Impala was up on a tow bar hooked to the truck and their father’s pickup was loaded with his mechanics’ tools. They would be pulling out in the morning. Dean, sixteen, would drive his father’s pickup since he was too young to drive the UHaul. Sam chose to ride with Dean.
Dean sat on his sleeping bag, the phone cord stretched around the corner so he could have privacy to talk to Cas.
“I don’t want to go.” The tears he’d tried so hard to hold back were running down his face.
“I love you, Dean,” Cas’ voice was racked with sorrow.
“I love you too.”
“I heard a song today and I taped it. This is our song. Listen.” Dean heard Cas fiddling around with his Walkman. The song started and the tune was vaguely familiar. Dean was a classic rock fan, this tune sounded like a country song. He got ready to make a snide comment to his boyfriend, but then he listened to the words.
Baby all I got's this beat up leather bag
And everything I own don't fill up half
But don't you worry 'bout the way I pack
All I care about is gettin' back, real soon
A goodbye kiss is all I need from you
'Cause I'm carrying your love with me
West Virginia down to Tennessee
I'll be movin' with the good Lord's speed
Carrying your love with me
It's my strength for holding on
Every minute that I have to be gone
I'll have everything I'll ever need
I'm carrying your love with me
On a lonely highway stuck out in the rain
Darlin' all I have to do, is speak your name
The clouds roll back and the waters part
The sun starts shinin' in my heart for you
You're right there in everything I do
'Cause I'm carrying your love with me
West Virginia down to Tennessee
I'll be movin' with the good Lord's speed
Carrying your love with me
It's my strength for holding on
Every minute that I have to be gone
I'll have everything I'll ever need
I'm carrying your love with me
On a lonely highway stuck out in the rain
Darlin' all I have to do, is speak your name
The clouds roll back and the waters part
The sun starts shinin' in my heart for you
You're right there in everything I do
'Cause I'm carrying your love with me
West Virginia down to Tennessee
I'll be movin' with the good Lord's speed
Carrying your love with me
It's my strength for holding on
Every minute that I have to be gone
I'll have everything I'll ever need
I'm carrying your love with me
I'm carrying your love with me
West Virginia down to Tennessee
I'll be movin' with the good Lord's speed
Carrying your love with me
The sob tore out of Dean. When his father finally told him to hang up the phone, Cas’ goodbye ripped his heart out. He felt the jagged pain and knew it wouldn’t heal until he could hold Cas one more time.
Present Day…
“My meeting will probably run late tonight, so I’m not going to come over,” Michael said as he kissed Castiel goodbye. “This new client has a two million dollar budget on a new house.”
Castiel returned the kiss with a noticeable lack of passion. He suspected Michael was having another affair. “That’s fine. I’ve got to go over the specs for the Reed project. I’ll be working late myself.”
Castiel watched his lover…boyfriend…walk out of his office. They were both architects at the prestigious firm of Crowley, Novak and Sebastian. The only difference was that Castiel was a managing partner and Michael was just an associate. Castiel always suspected that Michael only stayed with him because he wanted to make partner. The smart Castiel should have broken it off after Michael’s first indiscretion with the summer intern they hired last year. The socially awkward Castiel liked the comfort of having someone to come home too. Not that they lived together, that was one thing Castiel had done right.
Castiel tapped his intercom button. “Hannah, do me a favor and check the company calendar and see if we have any client meetings scheduled for this evening.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Castiel stared at his computer screen. He hated editing specifications. He looked out his office window. From the tenth floor, he could see the Atlanta Aquarium. It was a shame that he lived in Atlanta and never visited the place. Not even once. An old memory surfaced. Dean’s little brother, Sam, would have loved the place. He used to love books about the ocean and dreamed of being a marine biologist one day. Castiel wondered if he got his dream. He knew Dean’s desire to become an architect like Castiel didn’t come to fruition. The two had lost touch once Dean’s father took them away that summer. Castiel waited patiently for a phone call or an email. By the time Castiel was in his sophomore year, he’d pushed all thoughts of his first love out of his mind. The only thing that he wouldn’t let go of was the picture tucked into his wallet. It was faded and the edges were ragged, but the small square cut from the strip of three photos still showed two young men kissing in a photobooth. Did Dean still have his? Probably not.
Dean Winchester was now one of the biggest names in country music. How ironic. Castiel was the one who liked country, Dean was classic rock all the way.
A knock on his door pulled him out of the painful memories.
“Come in.”
Hannah, his secretary, opened the door and leaned her head in. “There were no scheduled meetings for tonight, Mr. Novak. Did you need anything else before quitting time?”
“No. Thank you, Hannah. Have a good evening.”
“You too, Mr. Novak.” Try as he might, he could never get Hannah to lighten up enough to call him Castiel. Even the draftsmen down in the production room called him Castiel.
He stood up and grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair. He wasn’t sure what he was more pissed about. Michael having another affair or that Michael thought he was so stupid, he would find out.
Castiel’s loft was in a converted office space the firm renovated into studio apartments and lofts. Castiel liked his design so much, he’d forked over the million and a half to buy one of the larger lofts. He tossed his the keys to his BMW onto the kitchen counter and sat his briefcase on the dining room table. Then he made his way to his bedroom.
After changing from his normal work attire of jeans, dress shirt and blazer, he pulled on a worn pair of sweats from his alma mater. He heated up a microwave dinner because he wasn’t in the mood to cook and sat down at his dining room table to work. Laptop open, he edited specs until his eyes hurt. It was after ten. He stretched and packed up his things. He’d finish it up in the morning.
He poured a glass of wine, grabbed his Ipad from the coffee table and went out onto his balcony. The May evening was pleasant now, but in a few weeks the Georgia summer humidity and heat would make it unbearable to come enjoy the view. A few swipes of his fingers and Dean’s beautiful baritone filled the night sky. He sat back in one of the patio chairs and put his feet up on the railing. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the last summer Dean lived in Kansas.
The first time they’d made love was the night Castiel graduated. The rest of the summer had been a blur of hot sex in the back of Dean’s car. They’d made plans for their future that summer. Castiel took a big swallow of his wine. Plans that Dean forgot the moment he left Kansas behind.
***
Dean was tired. The last tour wore him out. The divorce was an added stress. He couldn’t blame Jo for hating him and that’s why he told Sam to give her the settlement she asked for as well as the house in L.A. He kept the ones in Nashville and Austin.
“Are you sure about this?” Sam asked him. They were in Sam’s office, the bright California sun streaming into the windows.
“Yeah, Sammy. I just need to get away for awhile. Shit, I haven’t had a day alone since…fuck, I can’t remember when.”
“But a road trip? Dean, you’ll be recognized everywhere you go. Why don’t you fly down to the Bahamas or Jamaica?”
“I’m not flying. A vacation is supposed to be about relaxing. Flying is the opposite end of the spectrum from relaxing.”
“Alright…whatever.” Sam put Dean’s copy of the divorce papers in a large envelope and handed it to his brother. Dean hesitated before taking it. Their marriage only lasted six months. Six long months. He loved Jo and the relationship that started as a publicity stunt turned into a strong friendship, but then there was the pressure to get married. Pressure from his manager, pressure from Jo, shit, even the tabloids got involved. Before he knew what was happening, Jo was wearing a diamond ring that she picked out and paid for. Jo’s singing career skyrocketed after the engagement announcement was made, so Dean went along with it. He wanted Jo to succeed. Then she went and told the world via the CMA Awards that they were getting married the first of December. Dean had been on tour in Texas and hadn’t been able to attend the event, even though he’d been nominated and won three awards. Sam had called him after the concert, yelling about what a dumb fuck he was and Dean didn’t have a clue.
Funny how life gets out of hand sometimes. The wedding Jo planned was on the river at Dean’s house in Austin. Most of country music’s royalty were in attendance. Dean just went through the motions and said ‘I do’ at the right time. Dean went through the motions on the honeymoon too. Sex with women was pleasurable, but Dean preferred men. He had a type, dark hair and blue eyes. Jo was a super freak in bed, wanting it all day and night until Dean had enough. The blowjob from the bartender in their hotel room wasn’t Dean’s smartest move. In his defense, Jo was supposed to be out shopping all day.
Dean got behind the wheel of his car. The Impala and Sam were the only two constants in Dean’s life. A gift from his mom and dad on his sixteenth birthday, she’d been given a few facelifts over the years. He tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat.
Jo hadn’t wanted sex after she caught him with his pants down. She’d made him get tested for HIV and all the other little beasties out there. Dean gave her credit though, she never leaked it to the press. Their divorce was just another case of irreconcilable differences. Today when they signed the final papers, she’d wished him well. Yeah, Jo Harvelle deserved a lot better than him.
His personal items from the house were in the trunk. It wasn’t a lot, just a few pictures and awards. The house in Austin was his main home.
He topped off the tank and headed east. He wanted to make Vegas by nightfall. He was just outside of Barstow and needed a bathroom break. The gas station wasn’t busy and with his sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his face, no one recognized him. He was standing at the cash register, a small bag of gummy bears and a bottle of Coke on the counter when the song began to play over the speaker system.
Baby all I got's this beat up leather bag
And everything I own don't fill up half
But don't you worry 'bout the way I pack
“Four, thirty-two.”
The wave of sadness and longing washed over him. Cas. Where was he now?
All I care about is gettin' back, real soon
A goodbye kiss is all I need from you
'Cause I'm carrying your love with me
“Sir, it’s four, thirty-two.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Dean tossed a five on the counter and picked up his stuff. He needed to get to the car. He let his forehead rest on the steering wheel. Dean always tried to do his level best to not think of Cas.
His father couldn’t afford to get them a phone for a few months, but Dean wrote several letters to Cas. He would buy stamps and give the letters to his father to mail. The months went by and Dean never got a letter from Cas, not one. Dean stopped writing. He figured Cas was at college and had moved on. It broke Dean’s heart and he didn’t date again until he finished high school.
The lights of Vegas drew Dean out of his thoughts of Cas. He found a small hotel off the strip and used the credit card in Benny’s name. His manager kept money in a separate account for Dean’s use for times when he was incognito. Instead of going to the casinos, Dean found a diner and got a hot meal. He wasn’t recognized until he was paying his bill. Several pictures and a few autographs later, Dean was back in his room.
He turned on the TV and flipped channels, but found his mind wandering. In all those years, he never once allowed himself to think about Cas. Cas was history. That damn song though…
“Fuck!” He got up and pulled his laptop case out of his bag. Once he was connected to the hotel’s wi-fi, he typed Castiel Novak into the Google search bar. An hour later he knew that his old boyfriend, his first love, had followed his dream. He was now partner in some fancy architectural firm in Atlanta, designing buildings and homes all over the southeast. The photo on the firm’s website caused Dean’s heart to stop. Cas had been cute, lanky and his smile could light up a room, but this Cas…Castiel, fuck, he was drop dead gorgeous.
***
Castiel was sitting at his desk eating his lunch. He was supposed to be working on the house plans for one of the Atlanta Braves team members, but he needed a break. He clicked on the bookmark for a news site and the article caught his eye.
Country Music Legend, Dean Winchester and wife, Jo Harvelle Divorce After Six Months
The article stated the couple parted amicably. Castiel stared at the photo of the couple. It was taken on stage at a concert when they sang a duet together. Castiel knew Dean had married back in December. He’d gone on a two day bender and woke up in a puddle of his own vomit in the middle of his living room.
Castiel tossed what remained of his lunch in the trashcan next to his desk. He looked back at the computer screen. After all these years, why was Dean Winchester still haunting him?
The door to his office opened and he looked up, irritated. Only his partners and Michael opened his door without knocking.
“Castiel, let’s go to The Hideaway tonight. We can have a few drinks and then we can spend the whole weekend in bed.”
Michael leaned against his desk and gave Castiel a seductive smile. Castiel wanted to tell the man to go to hell…not to pass Go and not to collect two hundred dollars…but he didn’t. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “That sounds great.”
After Michael left his office, Castiel put his head in his hands. The bastard had his dick in someone else last night and Castiel just didn’t care. No, that was wrong. He cared a great deal, he just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.
The Hideaway was crowded as usual. Castiel wasn’t a fan of going to gay bars, but it was Michael’s idea of a good time. Michael just liked to look at the young men and Castiel always wondered how many phone number his lover took home with him. He wasn’t paying any attention to Castiel, who was sitting at the end of the bar nursing a vodka martini. A younger man approached Castiel and sat down next to him. He was pretty with brown hair and dark eyes. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“I don’t usually come here,” Castiel responded. He wanted to go home.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Before Castiel could answer, Michael was next to him, his hand coming to rest on Castiel’s crotch. “He’s taken, Sugar.”
Castiel frowned and watched the younger man walk away. This was Michael’s thing. He ignored Castiel until someone else was interested and then he played the possessive boyfriend role. Resigned, Castiel stood up. “I want to leave.”
“I’m having a good time, Castiel. We can stay for a little while longer.”
“You stay. I’m going home.” Castiel didn’t wait for a response.
He was lying on the sofa listening to Dean’s latest CD when he heard Michael’s key in the lock. He watched the man stumble over the threshold and sighed. Michael was drunk. Tonight wasn’t going to be a good night.
“Come on, let’s go fuck.” Michael was already taking his shirt off and weaving towards Castiel’s bedroom. Castiel closed his eyes, ignoring the other man. Suddenly, the air was forced out of his lungs when Michael, naked now, landed on top of him.
“I said I wanted to fuck.”
“Get off me, Michael. You’re drunk.” Castiel tried to shove him off but Michael was dead weight. Michael’s mouth crashed down on his and his tongue forced Castiel’s mouth open. He tasted like stale beer and cigarette smoke. Michael’s hands fumbled with the buttons of Castiel’s shirt, finally getting frustrated, he ripped the shirt open. “Stop it.”
Castiel rolled his hips and dumped Michael on the floor. “Go sleep it off, Michael.” Castiel pointed to the guest room and walked away. He shut his bedroom door and as he undressed, he heard Michael at the bar fixing a drink. He shook his head. He really needed to end this.
He turned out the light and rolled over on his side to get comfortable. He would end it tomorrow. His door opened. “Castiel…I’m sorry, Baby. Please let me sleep with you.”
Castiel turned to tell him to go away but Michael’s weight was on him again. Castiel pushed at the hands that were groping for his cock. He winced as Michael grabbed his balls and squeezed. “You’re mine, Castiel. Don’t ever forget that.”
Michael’s breath made Castiel gag. “Get off, Michael.” He could feel Michael’s erection rutting against his thigh. Castiel usually held his temper in check, but he’d finally had enough. His fist caught Michael in the ribs at the same time his knee got the man in the balls. Michael grunted and rolled off, holding onto his junk.
“You motherfucker.”
Castiel stood and calmly put on his bathrobe. “Michael, you’ve got exactly five minutes to get dressed and get the fuck out of my house or I’m calling the police. You will come into the office on Monday and clean out your desk. You are fired.”
He went into the living room and picked up Michael’s keys. He took the office key and his loft key off the key ring and threw the remaining keys onto the pile of clothing Michael had left on the floor.
Castiel watched Michael dress and met the man’s glares with detached boredom. Only after the door slammed and Castiel locked it, did he allow the trembling to start. Why had he let it go on this long? Was he that fucking needy?