Dean stepped out into the rainy evening and finally had a chance to check his phone. He could feel it buzzing in his pocket earlier but wasn’t in a situation where he could answer it.
1 Missed Call - CAS
1 New Voice Message
Dean dialed his voicemail box as he dug the Impala keys from his jacket, the familiar metal shape tinkling against the shiny bullet keychain he kept on the ring.
You have … 1 … new message. First message.
The quiet hiss of an open line. Dean pressed the phone tighter to his ear, eyebrows scrunching.
“You gotta passcode lock your phone, man, you can’t keep butt dialing me.” Dean muttered, dropping into the driver’s seat. The gentle patter of the rain gave way to the close silence of the car and Dean froze, the phone still pressed to his ear.
There was a noise, faint and almost lost to the hiss of the open line. It sounded like… Cas was crying. Then,
Dean’s stomach clenched tighter, just a hard knot behind his navel.
“Dean, I know you’re busy. I know…”
Cas’ hoarse voice broke off and Dean heard a muffled sniff, likely stifled by a sleeve.
“Damn it.” Cas said quietly. Then, stronger, “No, I’m sorry. I’m fine, I shouldn’t have called you. Disregard this. I...”
End of messages.
Dean immediately pulled up his call log and hit Cas’ name to call him back. He could feel his heartbeat thudding in his ears, pressing the unyielding shape of his phone too hard against the shell of his ear, imprinting a hard line. The phone rang and rang, then clicked through.
“Cas, hey. You alright m—”
A robotic female voice interrupted, hollow and impassive. We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not available—
Dean turned the engine over and threw the car into reverse, swinging out of his parking space, the falling rain shimmering in the two conical beams of his headlights.
Cas was an hour and a half away by car, in the dull little apartment they used to share, even duller now with half as much stuff. As much as Cas used to tease Dean about them, the Indiana Jones posters were a marked improvement to the naked expanse of scratched off-white paint, walls that Dean knew Cas hadn’t bothered to redecorate. It had been two months since Dean moved out to follow a job opportunity, into a tiny one-bedroom that was all he could afford, still just standing with a foot in the door and not really climbing any ladders yet. Two months since leaving Cas all alone.
Dean understood why Cas needed to stay. He couldn’t burden Cas with a ninety minute commute any more than he could stomach one himself, and Cas’ internship with the wildlife refuge was close enough to the place they’d rented senior year that it just made more sense that he stay there than it did to uproot him.
It’s just… After graduation, all their friends had scattered to the four winds, and Dean hated that in a way, he had to include himself in those ranks. He still felt a gnawing guilt for moving away, even if it wasn't far; it still felt too much like leaving Cas — his goddamn best friend — behind, despite Cas’ reassurances to the contrary. I’ll be fine, Dean. I can take care of myself.
So then what the hell was that phone call?
Dean side-eyed the dark screen of his phone on the bench seat beside him and pressed his boot firmer against the gas pedal.
Continued on Ao3
I’m Only Honest When It Rains
Summary: College roommates Dean and Cas have graduated, found employment, and lived apart for two months now. One dark and stormy night, Dean gets a phone call. Cas is having a rougher go of it than he let on. Not as angsty as it sounds. Honestly just an excuse to write some fluff.
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