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The Road that Calls You Home

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"Come on," Dean said. "You can spend a day away without them fucking everything up."

"I'm not sure that's true," Castiel said, but he stayed the day anyway.

Since his return, Sam had demanded more and more alone time, and Dean didn't want to push. One plus was that he could load up the trunk with a blanket, a cooler of drinks, and a ton of sandwiches, and Sam would just say, "Have fun on your date," only half-joking, not offering to come with them.

It meant he could chivvy Castiel into the passenger's seat and drive, taking roads at random and telling Cas to enjoy the scenery, Led Zeppelin playing low and easy while Castiel tipped one hand out the window like he was judging their speed by airflow.

Eventually, they would reach their destination, and maybe Dean would finally gather the courage to pull Castiel to the blanket or the grass, to press their mouths together in a quiet question, a silent request to stay much longer than a day this time. Eventually, he'd have to go back to Bobby's and Sam and all the things they weren't talking about. Eventually--

Eventually wasn't now, the leather wrapping of the steering wheel thrumming subtle and familiar under his hands, Castiel a comfortable presence at his side, and the road beckoning them ever onward.