Chapter Text
He parked in front of the nondescript, grey shotgun house and waited for Steve Perry to finish singing. Dean turned the radio off before another song could come on and cut the engine. For a moment he just sat and moved his neck in a circle to work out the kinks. He’d been driving for hours with only a couple breaks for coffee and to hit the head. He was stiff and sore. Still, the finality of opening the Impala’s door and taking the next step felt suddenly overwhelming.
Maybe Journey songs about how life is always changing were a bad way to start things off. He debated turning the car back on just so he could find “Back in Black” or hell, “Walking on Sunshine”. Anything to lighten the mood. No, what he needed to do was stop being a chickenshit and get on with things. He took a comically deep breath and opened the car door slowly, careful to make sure he didn’t hit the curb.
“Fucking street parking,” he grumbled as he slid out and shut the door before locking it. He scowled at the tree branches hanging directly over his head. He wondered again if getting a cover for his beloved car would be too douchey. It depended on how many sticks, leaves, and whirlybirds ended up dropping on to Baby. He patted her roof and whispered to her that he’d think about it.
Dean grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat. He and Bobby had brought down what little furniture he had, in a truck last week after Sam’s ex-roommate had vacated. This, a suitcase, and a box in the trunk were the last of it. Once they were inside, he would be completely moved from his old life in Sioux Falls. He was back in his hometown, his birthplace. Dean Winchester had returned to Lawrence, Kansas.
“Pushing 30 is turning you into a gloomy fucker, dude. Just stop it!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to dial his brother’s number. Dean was just a few digits in when he felt a looming presence coming up behind him.
“Dean!”
Giant, mutant arms wrapped around him. He tensed but almost instantly calmed. Only his dopey, golden retriever of a little brother would get a pass for something like this. Still, he couldn’t let him know that. “Dammit, Sammy! Get your Yeti arms offa me.”
The man behind him chuckled and let him go. “You’d love it if I wasn’t family. I remember that linebacker you dated senior year.”
Dean turned around and snorted. “Totally different. Craig was a defensive tackle, and a bear. You’re a freak of nature as well as my brother. Just ew.”
Sam rolled his eyes then grabbed a cloth bag he must have set on the ground before committing assault. “Your timing is perfect. I realized I was out of coffee this morning, so I ran over to a local place to grab a bag. Do you like Sumatran? It’s fair trade.”
“Of course it is. The last coffee I had was from a Flying J. Honestly, anything will be better than that burnt swill.” Dean looked his brother up and down. He was wearing a tank top, basketball shorts, and sneakers. “When you say ran…?”
The dork grinned. “It’s just a short jog. I didn’t know when you’d get here. I skipped my usual morning bike ride, so I needed it.”
“Wow. Ok, some ground rules. Number one, I will not start jogging with you, so do not ask. Number two, don’t even joke about me getting a bicycle. I’m not 15. Those are to start, I’m sure I’ll add more later.”
“Dean, everybody bikes in Lawrence.”
“Well, I ain’t everybody.” He sighed. “Help me get the last couple things from the trunk, will ya? I think I might need to crash for a few hours.”
“Yeah, ok.”
Sam was making one of his sad puppy faces now. Dean grimaced. Why did he have to be such a dick? They’d barely seen each other in months and Sammy was taking a risk on him being able to find a job to cover his part of the rent and bills once his savings dried up. He turned and opened Baby’s trunk. “Can you grab the suitcase? I’ll get the box. After I sleep a little and shower maybe you can show me the cool places to hang out. I need a burger and a beer.”
That worked. His brother went from crushed to beaming. They rounded up what remained of Dean’s life and hauled it onto the porch. Sam opened the unlocked front door and pulled the suitcase inside after him as though it was nothing.
“Really?” Dean said. “How much weed have you been smoking between classes?”
“Relax, Dean. I wasn’t gone very long. A lot of people don’t lock their doors. This neighborhood is mostly students anyway.”
“Yeah, because students never steal from each other or go on killing sprees. Rule number three, we are locking the doors when we leave the house.”
“Whatever, jerk.”
“Eat me, bitch.”
They were both grinning as the door shut behind them.
~
Their reunion dinner went better than he’d expected. Sam had not dragged him to some hippy dippy place with sprouts and wheatgrass juice. Instead, it was a laidback brew pub with mac and cheese, burgers, onion rings, and beer. Good beer too, not just a selection of hipster IPAs that made his tongue curl in protest. They talked while eating. Sam updated him about his last semester and Dean filled him in on how their adoptive parents Bobby and Karen were doing. After the basic catching up was done, his brother started poking at him to share his feelings about Lisa and what had happened there.
“I thought you were pre-law not a psych major.” He grumbled.
The dope just grinned and explained how much psychology was involved in practicing law. Dean wanted to knock that smug look off Sam’s face but instead he clenched his fist and flagged down the cute waiter to order more beer. That flash of anger reminded him of the reason he was here so maybe talking it out wasn’t such a bad idea. The thing was that Dean had really liked Lisa. She was the first person he had dated in a long time that felt like someone he could commit to. It had felt like something solid, something real.
“Did you tell her that?” asked Sam. Annoying bitch had a point. He’d never been very good at expressing his feelings, too much like dad. Sam was like their mom, full of hope and optimism. They always looked for the good in people. He found it naive but also comforting. Even while their mother was facing the worst, she did it with a brightness that had made it easier to get through. Dad on the other hand? Better not to dwell on how John Winchester handled intense emotions, and the shit life handed him.
“I thought that offering to stand by her when she told me she was pregnant said that. Silly me.” He shook his head and took a long drink off the new beer the waiter had just brought. He thanked the server with a slow grin and got a bashful one in return. Probably a college boy. A bit more of a twink then he tended to like, but hey it had been a while.
“That’s a grand gesture, Dean, not a statement of commitment. I know that’s your MO, but most people need the words too.” Sam smirked. It wasn’t clear whether his facial expression was directed at his brother’s flirty behavior or at his general clueless way of handling relationships.
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure it would have mattered if I had. We were only together for 4 months and only exclusive the last two. I probably freaked her out when I offered. She was already dealing with a lot. Then I go and all but propose to her? It was a bonehead move.”
“Yeah, but it was also a decent one. You’re just a big softie. Honestly, I think she missed out big time.” He reached over and tapped his pint glass against Dean’s.
“Damn right. I am a catch.” He picked up his glass and raised it with a cheeky grin.
~
Routine took over faster than Dean expected. The first week he just slept in and explored the main drag. Mass St, as Sam called it, was a jumbled mix of restaurants, bars, chain stores, galleries, and quirky retail places that catered to the student and tourist population. There was even a pair of shops with British and European foods and knickknacks. Weird, but they had really good chocolate. He found a couple paperbacks at a used bookstore to add to the ones he’d already unpacked. Sam had a stocker job at the natural food store. With classes out he was hoping to get more hours or even a cashier position. So, when Dean wasn’t scoping out local auto shops and checking the want ads, he read. Sometimes in the house and sometimes in one of the many coffee shops downtown. He liked the one called Java Break the best because while it was still kinda pretentious, all of them were, it had comfy chairs and lots of nooks and crannies to hide out in. Sam liked it too, which meant they could meet up after his shift and just hang out there or move things to a bar. Reconnecting with his little brother felt good.
There were lots of bars too. Some felt too collegey and some were trying too hard to be swanky, cocktail places. Dean didn’t feel comfortable in either type. But there was one with pin ball machines and another with live music or DJs every night. Aside from the brewpub from the first night, those were his favorites.
After finishing the last two new novels he’d gotten at the used bookstore, Rocannon's World and a newish one called Old’s Man’s War that he’d really liked. He went back there and found a display of books by local authors. He grabbed Junkie and Queer figuring that he’d liked On The Road, so he might like another of the Beats. Anyway, the movie version of Naked Lunch was wild so maybe these would be too. There was also a The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes that he grabbed since he recalled liking some of his poems in high school.
Sam pointed out later that he’d managed to pick works by Lawrence’s two best known gay writers. Dean just shrugged. He’d gotten over any angst about his sexuality years ago. Hot people were hot people, and he liked hot people. Getting worked up about what fun bits they had was kinda pathetic.
Dean sometimes wondered if he would have felt differently about it if his dad had still been around. John Winchester wasn’t a raging homophobe or anything, but he did have some rigid ideas about masculinity and gender roles. Probably partly the fault of his time in the Marines. Mary had always been more open to all different sorts of people. If both his parents had lived longer, he might still have been ok coming out as bi, just maybe not when he did. Living with Bobby and Karen had been different.
Maybe it was because of what he and Sammy had already been through. They paid attention. When Dean started boosting men’s fitness magazines along with the girlie mags he’d already been liberating from convenience stores, Karen noticed while bringing laundry to his room. After that, Bobby had an awkward conversation with him about it being ok to like girls and boys if he did and that he could tell them anything and they would support him. Easy as that. By the end of his sixteenth year everyone in his circle of friends knew he was bi. By senior year the whole school knew it. Didn’t hurt that both he and the guy he was dating could beat the crap outta anyone who messed with them or the other kids who joined their tiny GSA.
He'd lost touch with most of his high school buds save one and he hadn’t talked to her since the big break up. Dean decided he would have to remedy that. He shot Charlie a quick email about that newer sci-fi book he’d read and got a response right away saying that she’d read it and the next book in the series and liked both. They emailed back and forth for a little before Charlie got pulled into a coding dustup that needed her expert attention. They both promised to call soon.
The main repair shop he had really hoped would have an opening sadly did not. Mike Guenther had been the co-owner of his father’s place before John had his accident. He’d taken over sole ownership and now was running it with his daughter and son-in-law. Dean wasn’t sore about it and Mike offered to throw him some freelance work if they needed help with a 60’s or 70’s muscle car or sport sedan since those were his specialty. He’d dropped off a few applications at some other places and just had to wait.
~
It was going on a month and Dean was feeling frustrated. It has been years since he’d been unemployed, and he was feeling stir crazy. Mike had been able to bring him in for one job, but it hadn’t ended up paying much. He was enjoying using the food Sam was bringing home with his store discount to whip up some yummy dinners for them but unless he was gonna completely switch gears and start looking for kitchen jobs, it was only going to lead to having to buy bigger pants. At least he was walking more than driving most days so that helped. After the first hail storm, he broke down and got an all-weather cover for Baby.
One Saturday morning, Dean woke up earlier than usual. It was a little after 7:00, about when he used to wake up when he had to be at work at 10:00. His body seemed to be over the whole extra sleep thing; seven to eight hours was more than enough. He heard Sam in the bathroom, so he waited for his turn. Once he’d drained the snake and swished some mouthwash around; he headed downstairs to the smell of coffee brewing.
“Mmm. That’s the stuff. Morning, Sammy.”
His brother blinked at him. “You’re up early.”
Dean shrugged. “I used to get up around now most days back in Sioux Falls. I think I just needed to hibernate for a while. Recharge. If I’m gonna find work, I need to get my ass moving and on a regular schedule.”
Sam gave him a contemplative look. “Ok. Good idea. I was going to have some coffee and then walk over to the Farmers Market. You could join me.”
He looked at the coffee maker burbling away. Farmers Market. Karen liked to go to the one in Sioux Falls when she had time. It was nice. “Is there meat?”
“Really good meat. The grass fed, organic stuff. Sometimes cheaper than the stuff I get at work too. The trick is to get there early for the produce and bread then go grab more coffee somewhere. You then come back later when the meat vendors start to mark things down, so they don’t have to haul it back home.” He grinned like he’d figured out some great truth of the universe.
“Nice. Sam has a system. Pour me some joe while I go get dressed, college boy. Are we bringing bags or that old lady shopping cart of yours?” He turned to leave the kitchen knowing the cart was hanging on the basement door.
“Grab the cart. There are some bags in it if we need them.”
Dean took the stairs two at a time and found clean jeans and an old Def Leppard Pyromania tee that fit snug across his chest. No reason not to look good while perusing fresh fruits and veggies. Quick comb through his hair and.. perfect. He’d shaved yesterday and a day worth of stubble suited him.
He returned to the kitchen, grabbing the big green bag on wheels on the way and picked up the mug of black coffee waiting there. Sam drank his with soy creamer, which was just gross. He tried not to think about it while he sipped at his. After a few minutes, they finished their coffees and headed out the door toward their goal.
It was a quick walk up Connecticut to 9th St and then west til they hit Rhode Island. Dean remembered years ago, in like Fourth Grade, when a teacher had told his class about how the founders of the city had named the north south streets after the states in the union at the time.
They were in the order they had entered it but they had deliberately left out slave holding states. It was a pretty badass move if you asked him. Just the sort of thing a bunch of anti-slavery activists would do.
They got to the east parking lot that made up one half of the market. Dean followed Sam around as he went to his favorite vendors and carefully picked out a selection of produce and a loaf of bread that smelled heavenly. Dean made suggestions but mostly just took in all the sights, sounds, and smells of the different things that were on offer. There was a lot. He bought a croissant and ate it slowly, ripping the flaky pastry into buttery strips as he wandered from one awning covered stand to another. They moved to the other parking lot but it was mostly where the meats, dairy, housewares, and some honey vendors were so stuff they were going to come back for later when the market was closer to closing.
“Dean.” Sam’s voice pulled him away from the bar of goat butter soap he was sniffing. The bayberry and celery seed smelled way better than he expected. He bought the bar from a smiling butch who twigged his dar and made him miss Charlie again.
“What’s up, Sammy?”
His brother’s lips pursed a bit, but he just sighed quietly. “We should head off and swing by later for the meat. I’ll get some eggs, so we don’t miss them. Can you grab a 10 ounce jar of honey from Seraph’s over there? I’ll meet you at Java Break.”
“Sure thing.” Dean took the cloth bag Sam offered him and dropped his bar of soap into it before turning to walk toward the stand Sam had pointed at.
The first thing he noticed was the bees. They buzzed lazily around inside the tented area of the stand, sometimes landing on the jars of honey or the different beeswax candles arranged on the table. Some crawled over the blue and white checked tablecloth toward tins of salve and lip balm marked with the vendor’s logo. Long fingered hands gently shooed them toward the north end of the table where most of the bees congregated. There sat a round shallow dish, like a fancy pasta bowl, about halfway filled with water. Flat rocks sat in the bowl so that the bees could land on them and uncurl their weird little tongues into the water. Dean tried to remember what they were called. Probe something or other. The other thing he noticed was the man.
The booth’s vendor was a certified fox. Messy dark hair that looked like he’d just dragged himself from a bed. Broad chest and shoulders and built arms that strained at the blue t-shirt that he was positively poured into. The man also clearly never skipped leg day. His cargo shorts and hiking sandals combo should have looked goofy but on him, didn’t. Not at all.
Dean gulped and moved closer as the guy chatted away with another customer who was asking about the candles. His voice was gentle, gravely and melodic as he explained that the wax was 100% beeswax from his hives and hand poured. She nodded and decided to buy a bundle of tapers. He bagged the candles, took her cash, and made change. He then smiled and Dean felt like he’d been hit by a sunbeam.
“Whoa.”
That face turned; bow shaped and oddly chapped lips, square jaw, cleft chin, perfect stubble, graceful neck, the whole package. And the eyes. Blue. Insanely blue. “Can I help you?”
“Uh. Uh, yeah. I need some honey.”
“It’s your lucky day then. I happen to sell honey.” He smiled again, smaller than the last one but slyer this time. “What size do you need?”
“Uh” What size had Sam said? Dean felt like his brain had shorted out. “12 ounces?”
The other man’s face became thoughtful. “I have 10 ounce jars and 16 ounce jars. 16 might be more than necessary so you probably should go with 10.”
Dean nodded at that like it was something deep and philosophical. “Yeah. That sounds right. My brother puts it in his tea, I think.”
“Now this one is from the hives nearest my cherry trees. Sour cherries, perfect for pies. They aren’t ready yet. I should have cherries in a week or two though.” He handed over a hexagonal shaped jar with a white flower sticker on the top.
“I love pie.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean was internally screaming 'sonofabitch' at 11.
That solar blast of a smile slammed into him again. “Well, you’ll have to come back for the cherries then, won’t you? I’m Castiel, by the way.”
There was suddenly a hand reaching out toward him and Dean nearly panicked. The part of his brain that actually knew how to interact, and even flirt with, other humans suddenly woke up and took over. He clasped the extended hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Dean. I just moved back to town a month ago.”
“Welcome back. It is a great place.” Castiel released his hand and bagged the honey jar before waving away the offered money. “Consider it a homecoming gift. One pie lover to another.”
Dean felt a blush start to rise in his cheeks and turned to the water dish the bees were enjoying. “Hey, what are bee tongues called again? I heard it on some nature show but I can’t remember.”
“The proboscis. Though the actual tongue part of it is called the glossa. It’s really a fascinating organ.” He looked at the bees with clear affection. It made him look even cuter, which didn’t seem even possible
“Proboscis. Cool. Nice meeting ya, Cas. Thanks for the honey. I gotta go find my brother. I’ll see ya around.” Dean grinned and carefully placed the bagged honey jar into the cloth bag he was gripping onto for dear life. He gave one last nod and turned away from the stand. Part of him wanted to sprint away but he forced himself to walk casually until he was on the other side of the far line of booths. He finally let out a breath he’d been holding and leaned against a divider.
“Son Of a Bitch.”