In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere

Best Year of His Life

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.

"Listen, Cas, are you proud of that sketch?"

"Of course I am. It encapsulated everything I was feeling at that moment."

"Well then fuck everyone else. Who cares what they think?"

"They already think I'm gay."

"Your boyfriend sittin' here next to you would tend to agree with them," Dean said. "Besides, it'll make next year's naked sketch of me easier to deal with."

Castiel chuckled. "I suppose the showcase of the sketch provided an impetus for the discussion with my mother."

"Try that again."

"It helped me tell her how I felt about you."

"Huh. Then maybe I should draw you half naked and asleep in bed and stick it under some helicopter parts so my dad'll see it."

"Are you concerned about telling your father?" Castiel asked.

"I don't think 'concerned' is the word for it. More like terrified."

"What do you think your father will say about me going with you this summer?"

"Were you serious about comin' with me to visit Sam?"

"I want to be there to support you. If you need me, that is."

"Hell yeah I need you, Cas."

"You don't think your father would understand our relationship the way my mother did?"

"Not really," Dean groaned. "But I will tell him. You're too important to me not to."

"The proper time will present itself eventually."

"Yeah, I just need to find the right moment...like maybe when he's asleep."

"Our trip may bolster your confidence."

"You, me, and the Impala all alone out on the road, Cas?"

"That's the proposed plan."

"That sounds like the perfect summer vacation."

"Your father is working tonight, correct?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Did you want to sleep over?"

"I could...do you have to ask your mom?"

"She'll say yes. She loves you, remember?"

"Is there gonna be an oil painting of me hangin' above the couch when I wake up?" Dean teased.

"I don't think so."

"Time to move on to bowls of fruit?"

Castiel shook his head. "I prefer water colors."

"Very funny."

"I could offer you breakfast, if you'd like. You might have heard...I have a talent for soufflés."

Dean laughed, and Castiel got up from the couch.

"Let me ask Mama if it's all right if you stay."

"I'll go change the sheets now, for when she says yes."

Castiel rolled his eyes and kissed the top of Dean's head, knowing he was probably right.

He was, of course. His mother even insisted they all watch a movie together before bed, which Dean also got to pick. Castiel made Dean promise not to recite all the dialogue, but Castiel could still see him mouthing it through almost every scene in The Empire Strikes Back.

At eleven o'clock they went about setting up Michael's bed — which Castiel began calling 'Dean's bed' in his head — and going through a ritual of changing and washing and brushing that was starting to become routine. Dean went first in the bathroom while Castiel neatened his room, and then they switched. Castiel decided on plain pajama bottoms that night, but Dean found a way to comment on them anyway.

"Where are the moose?"

"What moose?"

"On your PJs. The cute ones."

"I went with the boring ones tonight."

Dean stuck his bottom lip out. "I'm disappointed."

Castiel threw a pillow at him.

One addition to their routine was Castiel's mother coming in to say goodnight to both of them. Castiel watched Dean grin through her entrance and exit, and something told him that Dean relished the attention; the smile was genuine.

Despite the late hour, neither of them decided they were tired. They talked instead, making plans in the dark for the road trip and the rest of the summer. At one point Dean made Castiel turn on the light and give him a notebook and a pen so he could make a list of all the music he wanted to bring along.

"Led Zeppelin, Metallica, uh, Black Sabbath, ooh, Motorhead — "

"Can I contribute CDs to the trip?"

"Hootie is banned from gettin' anywhere near the Impala, just so you know."

"Point taken."

Dean flipped a page in the notebook. "Music Cas Can Bring Along That Doesn't Suck," he said as he wrote the words along the top of the page and underlined them. "We'll look through your CDs in the morning — and after all my hard work schoolin' you on music, there better not be any Michael Bolton around here."

Castiel knew he was going to lose the battle and plopped back on his pillow with a chuckle. "I concede defeat."

"Damn right."

Castiel stared at the ceiling, listening to Dean's pen scratch across the paper as he continued his list.

"What do you think senior year is going to be like?" he asked.

"A lot more peaceful now that dickhead Alastair is gone."

Castiel nodded. "I was contemplating whether or not our relationship is going to make life difficult."

"Probably, but dude, summer hasn't even started yet and you're worryin' about that already? We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Together."

Castiel turned over to look at him. "I never could have gotten through this year without you."

"That's not true. Hell, you handled Alastair on your own...you were the one protectin' me at the end there."

"That's not what I meant. Ever since Michael died, it's just been Mama and me, but I've never had anyone with whom I could truly be myself. You were the first person who accepted me because of my differences rather than ridiculing me for them. Our relationship — our friendship — means more to me than I could ever adequately express."

Dean threw off the sheet and padded over to Castiel's bed, where he slid in beside him. He pressed close to Castiel's back and wrapped his arms around him.

"I think you just did," Dean said, kissing the side of Castiel's mouth.

Eventually Dean's breath on the back of his neck became steadier and he drifted off to sleep, arms still draped over Castiel's body. But Castiel lay awake for a long time thinking, and wondering, and listening to the comforting sounds of Dean lying beside him.

Dean was right when he told him not to worry about next year. When he thought about it, he was still a nobody and a weirdo, the type of kid whose shyness and reserved nature forever labeled him as different, except now he had Dean to share it with. Senior year was going to be fantastic.

So in the morning when Castiel Agnus, the nerdy loser kid with the funny name pulled his breakfast soufflé from the oven, his mother applauded, Dean gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he sent up a silent prayer thanking whoever was up there for giving him the best year of his life.