Rx: Physical Therapy

Physical Therapy

Shit.

Castiel stared at his phone, the tingling numbness of adrenaline rushing to his fingers and toes. The lead weight of guilt sank to the pit of his stomach, and he squeezed his phone in his fist to fight the nausea.

Fuck.

Cruel. Unreasonable. Spiteful. Callous. Every terrible state of existence in the dictionary raced through his head. But worst of all...

God damnit.

He was a fucking hypocrite.

No. It couldn't end there. Not like that. There had to be a way to handle their lives together. They deserved that much. Dean deserved that more than anyone he had ever met.

In a split decision, Castiel grabbed his coat and headed out the door. He had to get to Dean's before he left, before either of them regretted what happened next. He drove as fast as he dared, hoping with all his heart Dean would still be home when he arrived. Every scenario played out in his mind, none the ending he sought. So, he forced it from his thoughts and drove, mindless, numb but for the guilt deep in his gut.

Stuck at a stop light, Castiel glanced at his phone, surprised to find it silent. He had expected Dean to call him despite Castiel telling him not to. Another look as the light turned green served as his final check, and Castiel tossed the phone onto his dashboard as he hit the gas.

The twenty minute drive frayed his nerves to nothing by the time he arrived at Dean's. He slammed on the brakes and barely waited for the car to stop moving as he flew from his seat and sprinted to Dean's front door.

But once there, fist poised to knock, he hesitated. The worst ending played out in his mind, and for a single breath, Castiel felt doomed to that fate.

And then he knocked.

Several seconds passed before the door opened and revealed Dean, eyes red and nose redder. When Castiel opened his mouth, all the words he had readied, all the apologies and requests for forgiveness faded away. Instead, he gaped, mind ground to a halt. Nothing he had prepared to say in that moment would fix anything. Nothing would help Dean understand. That was up to Dean to determine.

Then they spoke at the same time. "We need to talk."

Of all the things Castiel had expected, Dean's smile was at the bottom of the list. But smile he did, and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief as Dean stepped aside with a gesture. "Dude, it's freezing, get inside."

Castiel obliged with a smile of his own as he shuffled past Dean. Once inside, he turned and waited, not wanting to stay any longer than Dean wished. When Castiel turned around, Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Gimme your coat and go sit at the counter. We're not doing this in the entryway."

Not one to miss an innuendo, Castiel snorted, but left the thought unsaid. Not that it needed saying. Dean cursed as he snatched Castiel's coat from him and shoved a hanger in one arm. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" Castiel sang as he wandered to the kitchen and seated himself at the counter as instructed.

On his heels, Dean entered and grabbed two glasses from a cupboard. "Syrah or Pinot?"

"What?"

Dean grunted with another eyeroll. "Do you want a glass of Syrah or Pinot? The Syrah is from Chile and the Pinot is Willamette Valley."

"I..." Castiel paused with a side-eyed squint. "Since when do you know wine well enough to buy a Chilean Syrah?"

"I know my wine."

Castiel's glare fell flat. When he said nothing, Dean scoffed as he said, "Fine, I called Sam. These were supposed to be for dinner tonight."

"You bought them because your brother recommended them?" Castiel asked.