the final rose

Dean took a deep breath and took the drink a PA offered him as he walked into the elevator with a couple of the other guys. He downed half of it, relaxing into the subtle burn that coated his throat. At least for the cocktail party, they loosened up on the fucking alcohol restrictions.

He’d barely talked to Lisa all day, but he wasn’t too worried. He’d said as much when they pulled him aside for an interview after the strip portion of the date. Then a short nap, some dinner, and a change into a tux later, they were all ready to get their game faces back on.

The elevator doors swung open and they all walked out onto the hotel rooftop. Dean’s eyes swept across the pool, across the bright city lights, across the producers huddling around several bottles of liquor before landing on Lisa.

She was practically glowing, a radiant smile on her face as she chatted with the guys who had already made it up. Lisa looked up at the sound of them approaching and her smile widened as she beckoned them over.

Dean readjusted his mic pack so it wouldn’t rub as much before walking over to stand with her. He hadn’t noticed Cas standing next to Lisa, and their eyes met briefly before Cas gave him a solemn nod and turned his attention back to her.

“We’re just waiting for everyone to get up here before we get started,” Lisa said, looking over them to see the next group of guys come out of the elevator. “How was everyone’s day? Are we having a good time?”

“Great day!” Garth chimed in above the murmurs from the rest of the group. “I think I found my career change,” he added with a wink to Lisa.

She laughed softly at that and pulled him in for a hug as the other guys joined them, nodding their greetings.

Ketch came over, stepping in front of a camera guy and doing a quick headcount.

“Alright, guys, listen up!” The conversation died down and they all turned to face him. Dean cringed at the forced British accent and finished the drink still held lightly in his hand in a few big gulps, not even a pleasant buzz touching him yet. Tolerance too damn high for this. “We have a lot to shoot tonight, and we encourage you to pace yourselves. At the end of the night, Lisa will be giving out the date rose–we’ll bring it out in an hour or so for your reactions. There’s less restriction tonight, feel free to use the pool, chat with each other, don’t forget to make time for conversation with Lisa, and,” his eyes landed on Dean’s empty glass, now hanging forgotten at his side, “let the liquor flow.”

There was some scattered cheering, and then the group began to spread out, pairing off as Lisa was whisked away for an interview.

Dean poured himself another drink.

Something about today had him off his game. He wanted time with Lisa, but something in him was screaming to run. Not from her, though.

Cas’ panicked eyes filled his vision, his solid body heavy in Dean’s hands as his knees had buckled.

It was fucked up to film something like that. Yeah… that’s what was eating at him.

He glanced over to where Cas sat, an amused smile fixed to his face as he listened to Gabe tell an animated story, clear water in his glass.

Dean let out a sharp breath to clear his head and sipped at the drink he was now holding tightly.

He turned to see Nick sitting there, regarding him curiously.

“What?” The mic pack dug into Dean’s side and he wished he could have kept the rude edge out of the question, but it was too late now.

“Nothing, Dean-o. How’s the night treating you?” Something about this guy made his skin crawl, like there was something underneath the playful, somewhat dickish mask of his that was much much worse. Something that sent all of Dean’s alarm bells off, sent him back to the creepy guys that used to watch him and Sam from across motel parking lots.

“Can’t complain,” Dean said shortly, glancing around, instinct telling him to look for escape routes.

Nick laughed, and leaned forward. “I hear that. Unlimited booze, a pretty girl, and plenty of idiots to entertain us.”

There was a question at the end of that sentence, or, more of an invitation really. A clear ask for Dean to step over to his side. To get on Nick’s list of allies and last longer in the house. A fucking political gamble that made his skin crawl.

Dean set his drink down and leaned back, putting on that stupid confidence that came so easily and felt so fake. “I don’t know, man, only a couple idiots in the group. Couple assholes, too.” They could probably cut that line. The whole “no vulgar language” bullshit.

A sly smile crept over Nick’s face and he nodded, almost thoughtfully. When he spoke again, his voice was low, like they were sharing a secret laugh together. “You and Castiel put on quite a show together.”

continue reading on ao3

tag list below cut

looking through the cracks

Dean flinched at the sound of the bunker door slamming shut. The words, I think it’s time for me to move on , echoed through his mind. He might have gone too far. Cas left and he didn’t say a word. Maybe he’d lost Cas for good, maybe there was no fixing it this time, maybe he’d fractured his world too far beyond repair. He needed a drink.

The whiskey burned as it made its way down his throat; it was a welcome pain. The heat curled in his stomach and he left the map room, headed to his room for a long night of drowning his pain in alcohol.

He didn’t make it to his room, though. Jack’s door was ajar, the way he’d left it before… well, before. It looked so small, so empty, so untouched, almost as if nobody had ever lived there. He pulled the door shut, his heart aching, as he moved on down the hall towards his room.

Cas had been right. He did still blame him for Mary. He blamed all of them. But mostly he blamed himself. He’d failed her after being the only reason she’d been dragged back in the first place. So he lashed out, got violent, and it didn’t fucking matter anyway. Jack, Cas, Mom, hell, even Rowena, they were all equally gone . He had nothing left. Except Sam. He’d always have Sam, but he’d hoped that he’d always have Cas, too. He thought no matter what they went through that it wouldn’t be enough to break whatever bond it was they had.

He pulled out his phone, instinctively opening his contacts and hovering over Cas’ name. That’s what he did when shit went wrong. He called Cas. He could always call Cas.

keep reading on ao3

he alwasy call cas

@fandomstuff67

hm but guess what. i love you more

okay you don't know me