Wait and See

All Four Missed Calls

All four missed calls are from Castiel. He went to the bookstore and his tire went flat. He'd called Dean, more and more annoyed with each voicemail as the store got closer and closer to closing.

Freaking Gabriel.

Dean called Cas back.

"Hey, I'm alright. Sorry. My phone must be acting up.

"I know you're alright. I also know you're lying to me. I called the shop. You weren't even open late today."

Shit. Dean drops his forehead down onto the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. Are you still at the bookstore?"

"No. Someone helped me and took me home."

"I'm glad you're alright." He was a girly thing to say, but it was best to walk carefully with a totally pissed off Cas.

"Come home. I'm mad at you." Cas hangs up on him and Dean checks the ringer volume on his phone, cranking it all the way up, before tossing the phone onto the seat.

He wonders when he started living the kind of life where his response to "Come home. I'm mad at you," is to hurry.

When he rolls up to the house he can see both Cas and Chelsea in the kitchen. The greeting he gets from Cas is cold. From Chelsea just a little pitying. Dean points to the books in front of them.

"Are we hunting?"

"Not really," Chelsea says, "Just background. Not all of us grew up with this."

"Were did you go?" Cas asks. It's not a demand it's just very obviously a question that Cas expects to have answered. Dean knows that lying is going to make it worse, but he just can't face up to telling Cas quite yet. He needs a second before he watches that hard set of Cas's eyes burn.

"I… just needed some air," he says, pouring himself a mug of hot water and dropping a tea bag into it.

"And?" Cas asks. Dean hears his chair scoot back and then feels the very light lift of his jacket as Cas pulls something off of it.

And then he makes a sputtering sort of noise and Dean turns to see the post it in his hand. It says "Kick Me. I'm into that."

Cas lifts the paper to his face and sniffs it.

"You summoned Gabriel," Cas says, then repeats it- shocked to furious in four seconds.


"You summoned a God Damned Archangel. Did he know where Sam was?" Cas barks.

"No. He says that no one does. But hey, your brother's alive."

Cas looks like he is seriously considering decking Dean right in the face. He spins, grabs his book off the table and storms up the stairs.

"That is the second most pissed I have ever seen him." Dean rubs a hand over his face and turns to Chelsea. She is giving him a very disappointed look.


Chelsea holds up her hands placatingly.

"Dean, I love you boys. I really do… but you realize that you're a codependent mess right?"

"I'm always a codependent mess. It's my thing." Dean replies. "I may have taught Cas to be a codependent mess. I'm not going to stop looking for Sam. You both should know that."

"We know. I know. Bobby knows. I just… Cas and I… and Bobby… think it would be good for you to maybe ease up on the hunting and do other things."


"You need a night off. Just one. Call the guys at work. Have a poker game. You liked the soccer games. You like your co-workers. We'll even help set it up."

"Chelsea, we can't have people over to Bobby's house for a damn play date. There's a cast iron demon proof panic room in the basement that looks like it's where we gut our virgin sacrifices. There's an arsenal next to it. And then there are the huge piles of lore everywhere."

"We'll lock the basement. We'll move the bookshelves. Poker night. This is happening. Don't make me go to your work and invite your little friends."

Dean grabs a book and takes his tea into the living room. He thinks about telling Chelsea to leave. He thinks about going upstairs to talk to Cas. He winds up reading on the couch until Chelsea leaves and then just going up to bed.

Cas is talking to him again by the next evening. Though not with all that much enthusiasm. Dean also figures out, by pure chance, that Cas has hidden away all of the myrrh in the house. Dean feels a little shiver when he figure this out and remembers when he did the same thing with the pain killers.

By Thursday Cas has swung wildly in the opposite direction. He's affectionate and laughing a lot. It's almost like he's excited about Friday and the stupid poker game. It's nice, really. Big excitement about a little normal thing.

Well. Mostly normal. Cas and Chelsea are planning it like it's a dinner party. Dean has learned from TV that poker between friends involves snacks from bags and beer from cans.

Chelsea and Cas are preparing hor's devours. Dean's a little embarrassed but it's not like anyone's going to turn down Cas and Chelsea's little sandwich roll up slice things. Or those spicy meat balls.

Thomas, Jose, and Matthews are all up for it. Dean fixes up the box that Bobby made to hide all of the labeled phones. Chelsea puts flower pots on it so it looks less suspicious than a random wooden thing in the middle of the kitchen. Also less like dudes lives here. Dean huffs and is ignored.

Friday just gets steadily weirder. Chelsea comes over early. She braids Cas's hair so it looks neat and old fashioned. When Cas does it for himself he looks like a hippie. It's hard to figure out how Chelsea makes it seem classy. Dean gives Chelsea a refresher in poker while Cas puts the appetizers together.

Thomas shows up first. Dean notes that he, as a totally normal guy who is not badgered by female friend or an ex-angel, has shown up with a six pack. He does, however, dive right into Cas and Chelsea's slices of rolled up sandwhich things. He's very polite about the house. Particularly the way that the wall paper behind where the bookshelves used to be is a totally different color than the rest of the wall. Thomas thinks the old cars in the yard are funny.

"Cas, you gonna play?" Thomas asks.

"Yeah. And you better watch out. He's pretty good," Dean tells him, patting Cas on the shoulder. He's gone from excitable to gradually more nervy and Dean's not sure why. He likes Thomas, Jose, and Matthew.

"Well… I'm not staying long."

Dean stops. "Wait. What? Where are you going?"

Cas shrugs and looks at the floor.

"Cas- where are you going?"

"I have a date," Cas admits, looking up suddenly.

Thomas whoops like a junior high kid. Dean feels like the floor has just gone out from under him.

"You have a what?"

"A date," Cas repeats.

"And you didn't mention this because?"

"I was mad at you," Cas says shrugging. Dean's aware that Thomas is looking at something's really weird. He can practically feel Chelsea preparing to dart between them.

There'a a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Chelsea volunteers. Cas turns and follows her.

"She's picking you up?" Dean demands.

"No," Cas answers.

Chelsea opens the door and does a double take. So does Dean, but for a very different reason.

"Hey, Castiel," says the lanky blonde in the doorframe with a familiar smirk. He steps inside and takes Chelsea's hand. He kisses the back of it. "Chelsea, beautiful as ever."

"Who are you?" Cas demands, stepping toward Chelsea protectively.

The blond looks affronted and Dean reigns in an urge to punch him.

"You don't recognize me? I'm hurt. Here. Imagine. Two feet shorter, still devastatingly handsome, just in an old fashioned way. Really old fashioned."

Cas's eyes narrow, then fall wide open. "Gabriel?"

"Nice to see you two, little brother." Gabriel smiles. "Like the long hair on your vessel."

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Dean demands.

Gabriel shrugs. "I heard you made spicy meatballs." He walks right past them, then turns on his heel. "Oh, and I brought someone." He snaps his fingers and Chuck appears, looking clean cut and exasperated. Chelsea jumps back.

"Hey." Chuck waves. "How's everybody been doing?"

"You don't know?"

Chuck's eyes fall shut for a moment. "Prophet humor. Classic."

"I meant the voicemails I've been leaving you."

"I haven't gotten any voicemails."

"Now that's too bad. There were a couple of those that I was proud of, like the one where I was going to shave all your skin off."

Chuck grimaces. "Well then… let's start drinking." He slips past them and into the living room.

Chelsea throws up a time out sign. "Wait- hold up. Exposition time- who's the cute blond?"

"Gabriel. The archangel that Dean summoned. He's notoriously capricious and dangerous and spent most of the last two centuries pretending to be a pagan god of deathly petty vengeance," Cas hissed.

Chelsea nodded, then laughed and dropped her head to her palm.

"What is funny?" Cas demanded.

"Sorry… just… a mechanic, and arcangel and a prophet walk into a bar." She laughed again. "I haven't been properly bored since I met you guys."

Cas doesn't think it's funny. He crosses his arms and rounds on Dean. "You had to provoke him didn't you?"

He storms off after Gabriel and Chuck. Dean can hear Gabriel talking exuberantly to Thomas and Chuck's squeaky muttering.

Chelsea shrugs and follows. There's another knock at the door. At this point Dean's ready to usher the Easter bunny in and give him some of that salad shit that Chelsea keeps at their place.

It's Joese and Matthew. Dean welcomes them into the living room. Gabriel is doing card tricks. Chuck already has a glass of whiskey. Jose recognizes him as "the writer". Dean sees him puff up at that, and deflate instantly at the hateful look Dean gives him.

Cas is tugging at his shirtsleeves. Dean's fighting an urge to forbid him to go. Cas is getting better at faking normal, sure. He's really close with Chelsea, he deserves "companionship" too, but it's just so weird.

Chelsea's handing out the poker chips. Dean's surprised to see them for a moment before he realizes that no one should bet against Gabriel and Chuck.

"So, Gabriel," Jose starts. "How do you know Dean?"

"I actually grew up with Castiel. Cousins."

Thomas smiles a little more. "Castiel, huh? I didn't realize that was your full name."

"Yes," Cas replies. He's standing behind Chelsea, looking bizarrely human.

"Our family's religious." Gabriel shrugged. "I'll deal."

"No." Dean grabbed the cards out of his hands. "You won't."

There's another knock at the door. Cas bites his lip. Chelsea grins. Dean moves his chair so that he can see this girl.

Cas opens the door. Dean catches Thomas leaning over to peek too.

There is a brief greeting on the theme of "Hey, it's cold, come in."

And a tall lanky guy with glasses and a tulip in his hands steps inside. Dean's wondering what the hell angel is crashing the damn poker game now.

Thomas whispers, "Wait- is Cas…"

And then lanky and glasses leans down and brushes his lips over Cas's and it finally clicks.

"Son of a bitch."

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.