The fields outside Dean's bay window were still crusted in white snow, landscape gleaming even in the gray, predawn light. The brown, bleached stalks of grass poking up throughout rattled in the January wind, making him more aware of the cold emanating through the glass pane. He took another slurp of hot coffee to combat the chill, letting his mind wander. February 1st was later that week, the point when he usually started really booking spring bird migration tours. Conversation was more stilted than usual over Christmas dinner, his mother's eyes worried. Dean wanted her to be wrong, but in the short days of winter, faced with a silent inbox, he prepared himself for lean times ahead. He managed to make it through until now since his public coming out without much regret, but business season was approaching. He was about to find out just how much he sacrificed.

Sam was up within the hour. His eyes had that faraway, unfocused look that Dean knew meant his mind was already churning on work for the day, so he kept conversion to a minimum, having another cup of coffee next to his brother in the kitchen, then reading email and planning his week. He wanted to take a drive to Konza, get some winter prairie photos for his social media, maybe find a few bison. The forecast for the week was cold but clear, perfect for making the drive. Baby would take a bit of coaxing to start this time of year, but she'd run well enough after that, and with Sam using the pickup for work commute, Dean didn't have the option of letting her hibernate all winter.

The house went quiet again after Sam left, only the occasional gust of wind outside making itself known, until Dean's phone suddenly clamored for attention. He grabbed it and was surprised to see Mr. Baker's name. He pressed to accept the call. "Hello?"

"Hello, Dean? Greg Baker… from Kentucky. I booked a group tour last fall?"

"Of course. The Trumpeter Swans. How's winter treating you?"

"Oh, about as can be expected. Bet it's a lot colder out there than it is here though. …Listen, I'm calling because I wanted to reserve a day tour slot for end of March, beginning of April. I don't know for sure how many people yet, but it will be at least Susan and me, probably a few more."

"Really? Coming back to Kansas so soon?" Dean didn't get many repeat customers from out of state; Kansas wasn't exactly a mecca for anything.

"Well, we never did get our Whoopers last year… And Susan and I… Well, we just want you to know that we, uh… we support you."

Dean wasn't sure Mr. Baker meant that until the man continued talking.

"We saw your announcement on Facebook. Not sure what people are saying, but we have a niece… she's got a girlfriend, and, uh… Susan just thought it would be a nice gesture."

Dean blinked at a prickle of tears, remembering the fond, motherly way Susan Baker had smiled at him, asked him if he had a special girl at home… He cleared his throat. "I really appreciate it, Mr. Baker. Maybe this time we can get you some cranes."

They closed the line with Dean feeling more at ease than he had in a few weeks. He knew that he would lose some business after coming out, but he never imagined that he'd gain some specifically because of it.

Spring turned out to be a mixed bag, when all was said and done. He picked up another new Konza photography tour from customers who mentioned seeing his coming out video online, a gay couple from Manhattan—the Kansas city, not the New York version. The annual trip booked by the local photography club, which had been a spring staple for four years running, never materialized. One of his clients brought along her son, who mentioned that it was 'cool' that he had come out despite being old (ouch). When a nuisance coyote was stalking a sheep ranch outside Olathe during lambing season, Dean's phone never rang.

He relayed each event to Charlie. It wasn't like they were keeping score… except they definitely were keeping score. Charlie seemed personally invested in his success as an out nature guide and author, strategizing about what to post and where, like a battle commander. Dean was sure anything he told her was passing through to Cas. Over the months, his initial impression that they were work teammates had been replaced by the realization that Charlie and Castiel were close friends outside work, possibly best friends. Kevin seemed to be part of their group too—Dean figured out eventually that he was the friend who suggested the cat and thought Dean might be a serial killer, which explained the dubious looks Kevin had given him back when he visited Elysium House.

It was a little odd, Castiel's closest friends being so much younger, but Dean supposed he really wasn't allowed to judge. He hadn't had friends that weren't business contacts since he was a kid, and besides Sam, he went months between touching base with people. Hearing little bits and pieces from either side about how Charlie had dragged Cas over to watch another Thor movie or how Cas and Kevin had gone to some museum photography exhibit was looking through glass at something Dean had never experienced in his own life, a sort of circle of friends that existed only in fiction.

He wasn't sure how or why it expanded to include him, at least in the digital sense; it happened gradually. In her spare time, Charlie sent him LGBTQ+ news links relevant to nature, the outdoors, and writing, then pestered him about whether he and Sam had gone to see some latest movie release. Before he knew it, he was replying to her frequent meme messages with memes of his own. He got emails from Kevin with lists of synonyms—because nobody 'chuckled' as much as his characters and he'd used 'russet' 37 times in his book—and passed links about serial killers and murder documentaries on to Sam. He continued texting Cas interesting pictures and spoke with him at least once a week, discussing books and places he might want to see on the road trip vacation Dean was determined he should take. It got to the point where Sam asked what they were up to, whether Dean had talked with them recently… then just friended them all on Facebook. One night in April, when Sam was out in the city for a change and nobody had left any sort of message or email that day, Dean cleaned his Smith & Wesson revolver, threw in another load of laundry, and then looked around his empty living room and wondered how he used to fill his time. …He thought he probably used to rewatch classic movies from the 80s.

Early spring also shaped Dean's plans for the first part of the summer after bird migration ended. Elysium marketing had been ramping up since the end of the previous year for a June 1st release date, just in time for Pride Month. After the holidays, Charlie asked Dean if he was throwing a book release party. Dean snorted, typing back that he already had the guest list all planned, adding a one bullet point list with Sam's name on it. His phone rang a moment later.

"Dean, you can't not have a release party!" Charlie insisted.

"Charlie, even if I could afford a party—which I can't—no way you'd catch me volunteering for an awkward evening of trying to hawk my book on people. Ain't happening'."

"Deeeaaannn."

"Nope."

"…Fine. Come to New York then. I'm taking you out."

"Charlie."

"Seriously! Come on, I'll get Castiel and Kevin, we can go have a few drinks to celebrate."

"A bit of an expensive drink, Charles. Those New York hotels ain't cheap."

"Hotel schmotel, Winchester. You can couchsurf. Come on, hop a train."

Dean sighed, looking out the front window where the moonlight shone crystal white on the ground. "I'll think about it."

"I'm taking that as a 'yes'!" Charlie decided and hung up on him.

After that, Bobby Singer called in February, locking him in for a fishing weekend in mid-May. "Time for you to learn the art of fly fishing," he told Dean. Dean figured anything was worth trying. Besides, it was time he came clean to Bobby about everything that had been going on, about himself.

There were very few people in his life Dean had felt obligated to make a personal announcement to, but his agent and his previous editor were on that list. Benny had been easy—during the time they'd been acquainted, the man had dated an array of different genders. Dean called him right after making the decision to come out publicly. Benny's response to Dean's declaration was a slow, "Thought it was something like that. Welcome to the limelight." He knew Benny would do whatever he could to help.

Bobby was going to be more difficult. Dean wasn't sure how he was going to take it, but if they were going to stay friends, Dean wasn't going to hide anything.

The final piece slid into place when Castiel announced that he had reserved a week of vacation time for late July. It was during prime tourist season, especially in the Rocky Mountains, which Cas picked as his top choice destination. Trying to do the drive from New York to the Rockies and back in that time would be tight. Dean talked it out with him, and Castiel agreed to take a train to meet Dean in Pittsburgh—the Amtrak line was surprisingly scenic, even if it was a grueling day trip. After the end of the road trip portion, Dean would take him back to Kansas, where he could catch a plane to New York. It would shave a few days off the driving and give them more time for stopovers. Between the first and final legs of travel, Cas told Dean to plan whatever he thought would be enjoyable—and not burden him with the details. The only other question Dean asked was whether Castiel would be okay with sharing a double room for overnights. Within a few weeks, Dean came up with a plan and called around to make reservations; no way he was going to wing the motels on Cas's first ever road trip. That sort of thing was fine when it was just him—worst case, he slept in the Impala—but that wasn't the sort of first impression Dean wanted to give Castiel of travelling.

Looking out across the months to come, with a fair spring guide season rolling to a close, Dean's schedule seemed very full, a contrast to previous years' stretches where he answered to nobody except himself, besides the occasional nag from Benny or Sam. As a rule, Dean tried not to plan too far ahead or set his heart on distant futures, but he couldn't help feeling, this year, that he had some things to look forward to.

----------------------------------------

His palms were sweating where they clutched the wheel of the Impala. Dean was stopped at the base of the driveway to Bobby's new place—he hoped out of view of the house—taking a few breaths, going over in his head what he wanted to say. He'd been mulling it over for months, and he'd decided he better just get it over with right when he got there. No sense in playing nice for a few days before springing it on the old man. If things went south, he'd just get back in Baby and drive over to Good Earth State Park for a long walk.

"Ready as I'm gonna be," he whispered, forcing himself to let up on the brake and ease up the dirt drive.

Bobby's house was a country-style new construction, made to look more rustic with broad, vertical siding panels and stained wood accents. The expansive footprint had to be triple the size of Dean's own cottage, with an attached double-bay garage. He pulled Baby around the horseshoe drive our front and got out, leaving his bags in the trunk. Bobby swung the door open before he even reached the steps.

The portly, older man was in a brown flannel shirt and a new pair of jeans. His hair and mustache, more gray than auburn now, were bushier than he'd kept them when he was still an acquiring editor at Elysium, but his complexion had more color and his blue eyes were brighter. Overall, Bobby looked haler than Dean had ever seen him. A wide grin split his face as he stepped partway out onto the stone stoop. "Dean, good to see you! How was the drive?"

"Great, not a spot of rain the whole way up." Dean climbed up and entered through the door at Bobby's nod. Inside was a long hall paneled in stained wood, with flooring made to resemble cobblestone.

Bobby shut the door and turned back to grab Dean in a bear hug, thumping his back for good measure before releasing him. "You made good time… Well, come on in. You want some coffee or something?"

"Sure."

Bobby led the way down the hall and took a right turn into a spacious room, divided up into kitchen, dining, and living room sections by floor style, counter islands, and furniture. After he'd brewed a few mugs out of the single-serve coffee machine, he and Dean sat down at a solid wood table set near a pair of tall, glass sliding doors that opened onto a porch along the back side of the house. The view past the porch showed rocky hills dusted with the brilliant green of emerging spring grasses.

"I figure we can get an early start tomorrow, head over to Palisades. Today, I can show you around the neighborhood, if you're up for it. Got a couple steaks for the grill later on…" Bobby blew across the top of his mug before sipping from it.

Dean held the warm coffee up to his face, nodding, and took a deep inhale to fortify himself. "Listen, Bobby, before we get too far, had something I needed to talk to you about…"

Bobby raised an eyebrow, giving Dean his full attention.

Dean swallowed. "Uh, a lot has been going on the past year, with me… well, longer than that, really. I just have been trying to be, uh, more myself. More honest with myself and other people. Not really an easy way to work this into a conversation, but I'm… uh… bisexual. Came out publicly last November."

Bobby's eyebrows lowered, and he glared at Dean, mug hovering a few inches from his lips.

Dean swallowed again, mouth going dry, preparing himself for whatever Bobby was about to bust out with. He should have known this was a little much for someone like Bobby to accept… had known it, really. But something in him was tired of lying low, getting along to get by. He'd take the consequences like a man, move on past the hurt.

"I know that, ya idjit," Bobby snapped. "Found out from your Facebook."

Dean's mouth dropped open; the mug almost slipped from his fingers.

"What, you think an old fart like me can't figure out how to watch a video on the internet?" Bobby's eyebrows rose, and he gave Dean a bug-eyed stare. "Hell, I ain't senile yet."

"Uh…" Dean faltered, mind blank.

"Thanks for the heads up, by the way. Glad you got around to officially telling me before the six-month mark."

Dean flushed and ducked his head, feeling foolish. Bobby had known all this time, and Dean had worked himself up for nothing. "So… I guess that means you ain't gonna run me out of town then?" he joked.

Bobby scoffed at him. "Oh, so because I'm old and southern, I'm some homophobic hillbilly, that right?"

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to escape from the pit he'd dug himself. "No, sir."

"Damn straight. Now, if you're done sharing your big news, how about you drink your damn coffee so I can give you the tour."

"Yes, sir." Dean buried his face in his mug, looked out the window to avoid Bobby's further wrath.

The weekend, after Dean's awkward opening, went better than he could have hoped, although Bobby continued to rib him at intervals about his 'big secret'. The weather was gray and cool, perfect for fishing, and Bobby took Dean to some of his favorite spots with a cooler of beer and sandwiches to last the day. The retired editor gamely agreed to let Dean take some videos of his fly fishing techniques to post to the social media feeds, triumphantly pulling in some decent sized carp and a bass for Dean to net. Then, he insisted on filming some videos of Dean because, "It's your show, kid. Nobody visits to see my ugly mug." The videos mostly consisted of Bobby lambasting Dean's fishing form in voiceover with Dean making some less-than-witty comebacks. When Dean finally managed to bring in a small carp, Bobby raised it in the net and took a closeup, saying, "There ya go! Now, next time, how about you hook one about double this size, and maybe you can keep it…"

Sunday night found them rounding out a dinner of store-bought salmon with some berry cobbler Bobby's friendly neighbor Marcy had dropped off. Dean thanked Bobby and raised his bottle of beer, proclaiming him "the superior fisherman".

"Not much of a contest," Bobby snorted. He took a long swig from his bottle and swished it around for a moment thoughtfully. "Well, you said your piece at the start of the weekend, so I'm gonna say my piece at the end of it."

Dean paused, setting his beer on the edge of the table.

Bobby smacked his lips a few times and set his bottle down as well. "All I want to say is… when we worked together, that stuff I said about your book, the edits we made…" His mouth tilted into a frustrated frown. "Maybe that's why you thought I'd be all bent outta shape about this coming out thing—"

"—Bobby," Dean said, shaking his head, "that was—"

"—No, listen. The edits were for the book. For selling something… and maybe that made you feel like you had to edit yourself. If that was one of those reasons you kept quiet… I don't want that for you, boy." Bobby nodded at the far wall, picked up his bottle for another swig. "A man doesn't need friends like that."

Dean nodded in agreement and grabbed his beer again. He couldn't think of a response that wouldn't send them straight into Sapsville, but luckily Bobby rose and proclaimed they could both use a second helping of cobbler, saving Dean from further embarrassment.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Monday morning, they hugged goodbye on the steps, and Dean drove out to Good Earth State Park for a much different hike than he had originally dreaded. Under the gentle spring sun, looping through patchy prairie, along lush lake's edge, among newly leafed trees, his boots felt light, as though he could turn south and walk clear back to Kansas. Before he left, he stopped to take one last photo, framing feathered tips of grass lined with pale sunlight and tilting the phone upward, so the view climbed into the cloud-dotted blue sky. Satisfied with the result, he messaged it to Cas, then made his way back to Baby… then made his way back home.

----------------------------------------

"Winchester!"

Charlie bobbed out of the crowd in Penn Station, stretching up and waving one arm to catch his eye. She had on black flare pants, a denim jacket, a light blue graphic tee, and a large canvas shoulder bag slung around her hip. Having her red hair pulled up off her neck somehow made her look even more petite in the sea of large figures surrounding her.

When Dean had told Sam he was going to hop a day and a half train ride out to New York to have drinks with the Elysium team, Sam had looked at him like he was crazy, but seeing Charlie's bright grin, Dean knew it was worth it. As he pushed his way closer, he saw that her shirt had a prancing unicorn with the words 'A book a day keeps reality away'. A smile tugged up the corner of his lips.

"Mister Author-of-Two-Books Winchester, are you ready to party?"

"You said 'drinks'," Dean protested, pulling his face into a mock scowl.

"Ah, yes, but drinks the first of June are Pride drinks, and therefore, party drinks." Charlie raised a finger as she made her point, then tilted it to point at Dean an instant later. "Oh. And it is also your first official Pride. So you, sir, are entitled to party extra hearty."

Dean's face had drifted into a crooked smile as Charlie went on, unable to hold up against her energetic barrage. "Not too hard. I have to get back on a train west tomorrow."

"Boooo! I can't believe you're only staying a night. We could have used you as an excuse to do so many horrible tourist things…"

"Maybe next time." Dean smiled at her. The only reason he had agreed to the one night was because it was necessary; he certainly wasn't going to overstay his welcome. Besides, cities were nicest in small doses, spaced widely apart.

Charlie walked him through getting a MetroCard, and they hopped a bus. She tapped at her phone for a few minutes once they were seated, fingers flying at a velocity that made Dean vow she should never see him trying to type a text. He scanned the bus denizens out of the corner of his eye, briefly staring at some balding guy in a maroon tie who was watching Charlie a little too intently.

"Okay, Castiel is going to meet us at his place. We can get cleaned up and chill for a few hours before heading out."

The reminder that he was about to be face-to-face with Cas again made Dean's heart rate pick up. Ever since they'd met last fall, Dean's dreams were dogged with blue eyes and gruff voices. Cas was his editor, and asexual to boot, and therefore off the table, but certain parts of his body and mind weren't getting the message. Glancing over, Dean found Charlie watching his face intently. He immediately forced it blank. "What?"

"Oh, nothing!" Charlie's eyes darted away. "This is just, like, the second time I've ever seen you. Getting used to real life Dean instead of Messenger Dean."

He didn't have much time to collect himself before Charlie prodded him up and off the bus. They walked to a tall stack of apartments the color of Kansas mud. Dean craned his head up at the symmetrical rows of windows, suddenly thinking about lines of bank swallow nests dug into the dirt bank of a river. Or maybe one of those African termite mounds.

After they were buzzed inside, they went to the thirteenth floor—Dean always thought buildings skipped that number—and made their way to apartment 1305. The place looked nice, the almost pristine clean of a hotel. Dean's experience with New York City apartments pretty much came from television and movies, but he thought Cas's building was probably higher end. Charlie knocked, and there was just enough time for Dean's stomach to flip before the door swung open to reveal Cas.

He drank in those deep blue eyes under fretful brow, barely containable hair, broad shoulders. Cas stared back, his look somehow both pleased and unsettled. There was that same, too-long pause there had been at their first meeting, neither one of them willing or able to start.

Charlie, thankfully, intruded upon their silent staring contest. "Hey, Castiel! Can we come in?" The toe of one of her sneakers nudged the back of Dean's boot.

"O—Of course." Cas stepped back to give them room to pass.

Dean glanced down to see if Charlie wanted to enter first and found the younger woman giving him a very pointed 'get on with it' stare. Clearing his throat, he made his way into the front hall of the apartment.

"I'll show you where you can put your bag," Cas offered, glancing at the wall below Dean's right shoulder before leading the way down the hall. The room he brought Dean to was small and simply furnished with a bed, side table, and wall closet. It was painted offwhite like the rest of the visible apartment, the view outside the window of gray and brown buildings under an overcast sky not adding much atmosphere. Still, it was very clean, and you couldn't beat the price.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean turned to him but found him studying the far wall.

"Bathroom is down the hall on the right." Cas nodded, then turned and went back out into the rest of the apartment before Dean could say anything else.

Good start, Winchester… Dean sighed and set down his bag before heading to freshen up a bit. Farther down the hallway, he saw a door on the left that he suspected led to the main bedroom, then discovered the bathroom tucked off to the right around a corner.

When he came out, he followed Castiel and Charlie's voices back down the hall on the other side of the apartment, finding them standing in an open living room with a gray couch and armchair. Cas's eyes found his face for a moment before flicking over his shoulder.

"Let me show you around the apartment," he suggested. "Um, as you saw, your room out and down the hall. My room is beyond that, across from the bathroom. Living room here…" He turned farther into the room and a hidden corridor in the back right revealed a narrow kitchen area that ran along the front wall of the apartment. "Dining room and kitchen."

A small table was set up at the end nearest the living room, and appliances lined the inner wall. Dean spotted a very nice electric range and double oven combo, and beyond that a stainless steel refrigerator model. The counters were glossy granite, with pristine white cabinets hanging above and below. Castiel turned back around and drifted to a stop when he realized he couldn't easily pass Dean.

"Seems nice, Cas," Dean said, for lack of anything better. His estimation of Castiel's level of wealth had ticked up since arriving. Still, there was something familiar about the space… so clean that, in fact, it looked empty. What furnishings there were looked as though they probably came with the place. The single exception he'd seen were the books in the living room. No pictures, no personal items strewn around on tables. Dean realized what it was. It reminded him of his own place, before Sam had moved in. Dormant.

Across from him, Castiel nodded, eyes focused behind Dean. Dean swallowed and took the hint, turning and going back out to join Charlie.

They ended up watching Futurama, as Charlie wanted to stream something in the background. Dean hadn't gotten to watch too much of it before but found it surprisingly funny. Charlie talked over it as much as anything, elaborating on some of the more obscure pop culture references. Eventually, she excused herself to change, leaving him and Cas alone in the living room. The conversation limped along without her. Dean played with a hangnail for a minute before sighing aloud.

"…I don't know why this is so hard," he muttered to Cas. "We talk for hours, all the time."

"It's easier when I don't have to look at you."

"Gee, thanks, Cas." He looked up in time to see Cas's wince.

"That wasn't what I meant… I—"

"—No, I get it," Dean interjected, wanting to wipe the anxious look from Cas's face. "Just… easier to say things without someone else staring at you sometimes."

"Yes." Castiel gave him a relieved smile, looking at him.

"Feel free to stare at the wall and pretend I'm in Kansas. I'll do vice versa, and maybe we can manage."

The tilted smirk of amusement Cas gave him did funny things to Dean's chest and train of thought. "I don't believe that will be necessary," Cas determined, keeping eye contact.

When Charlie emerged, she had taken her hair down and swapped out her top for a black one that showed various Star Trek ship models with a staggered rainbow of contrails, a particularly geeky Pride graphic. She pushed Dean into showing her what he was going to wear out that night. The new black jeans, gunmetal collared shirt, and navy bomber jacket Dean packed earned her pleased disbelief.

"Wow, this is actually nice…"

"Hey, I can do fashionable."

Charlie raised her eyebrows and gave him a wordless stare.

Dean shrugged and met her gaze until it became clear Charlie wasn't buying it. "…Sam helped," he added finally.

Charlie smirked. "I wish Sam had come to the city," she lamented as she passed the clothes back. "It would have been nice to meet him in real life."

"Good luck getting him to take a vacation day. Kid's picture is next to 'workaholic' in the dictionary."

"Mission accepted! We just need to find something he likes more than work."

"Uh, I dunno, jogging?"

"Ew."

"Right?"

Kevin showed up shortly after. Dressed in a fitted black shirt and slim jeans, he looked like a broody lead from a CW series, a stark contrast to his office attire. He joined them in the living room, where Futurama was still going, competing with Charlie in running commentary. At one point, he engaged Cas in a ten-minute discussion about genetically engineered foods, which Dean did his best to follow. The most he knew about the topic was that a lot of Kansas farmers were angry about GMO crops that turned out to be unsellable on the international market. Somehow, that segued into public land use, something more in his wheelhouse, and he found himself alternately defending grazing rights, hunting rights, and conservation until Kevin finally asked, "What side are you on?!"

"It's not as easy as picking sides." Dean shook his head. "It all has value, where I'm from. It's a balancing act."

After Charlie pointed out that it was nearing time to go, Dean changed, followed by Cas. As soon as Cas came in from the hall, dressed in a pale blue collared shirt open at the neck, Dean knew he was going to spend the entire night trying not to stare at the line of his collarbone. Off limits, Winchester.

The bar was within walking distance. Dean was grateful for the open air as the group powered along the broad sidewalks. It wasn't exactly 'fresh' air, and the number of people around them made Dean miss the weight of a holster under his jacket—New York City was absolutely not gun friendly—but after a few days confined in the train, it was nice to stretch his legs. The place, Morn's Tavern, was nestled next to a juice bar and a funeral home, a strange mix of polished wood finishes and futuristic decor and lighting. A Pride flag hung behind the bar next to a black marker board of drink specials. The crowd was casually nerdy, a little younger than Dean was used to but more sedate. What music was playing was kept in the background, the conversations far louder in volume.

Kevin pushed forward and claimed them a free table next to the bar. When they had gotten a first round and ordered a few appetizers, Charlie raised up her glass.

"To Dean and his second book. May it sell best and win the Pride games."

Conversation fell to Netflix series, finding common ground with Travelers and The Good Place for a while, Kevin making a case for all of them to watch Mindhunter, Castiel mourning the exit of David Tennant from Jessica Jones. The discussions took them through a second round of drinks and even more food. Charlie periodically looked around, checking out the crowd, which was getting progressively denser and louder. Some time after, she seemed to make a decision, rising to get a round of rainbow jello shots for the table, then waving her phone.

"Okay, guys, come on this side of the table with me and Dean…" Castiel and Kevin circled around to get in the frame. Charlie called out to a few nearby tables. "Drink on me to anyone who will snap a few pictures for us!"

She caught the attention of a young woman in a flowing maroon top with shining black curls and deep brown skin. "Here, I'll do it," she offered, giving Charlie a friendly smile.

After handing her the phone, Charlie raised her voice even louder. They all froze as she screamed out to the entire bar area. "May I have your attention, Morn's denizens! It's first night of Pride Month, and we're here celebrating the release of Dean Winchester's second book. Please help me make some noise for this out and proud author!" She whooped and leaned down to hug Dean.

Their new photographer grinned and called out, "Smile!"

Everyone at the bar behind them roared and whistled while the woman with Charlie's phone lined up the camera. She handed the phone back, and she and Charlie stepped over to get her drink order. As the people around them laughed and returned to their activities, Dean pulled at his collar and tried to get the flush he could feel in his face to subside.

"You guys know she was going to do that?" he grumbled. Castiel shook his head at the same time as Kevin nodded. Dean shot Kevin an irritated glare.

Kevin regarded Dean unapologetically, his lips flicking up into a smirk, and shrugged. "Are you even the guest of honor if we don't embarrass you at least once…?"

Charlie came back to her seat and flipped through the pictures, ignoring Dean's glower. She grinned triumphantly. "Next best thing to having a release party? Making it look like you're having a release party." She leaned over and held her phone up for Dean to see.

The picture showed Dean, surprised but smiling, luckily nowhere near as red as he had felt, with Charlie clinging to him, a brilliant grin lighting up her features. Castiel had managed a happy expression despite his shock; Kevin's smile over his shoulder was broad and amused. Behind them, a crowd of bar patrons filled the frame, fists and hands raised in celebration, frozen in various stages of laughing and hollering. It did look like a big party.

"…You are devious," Dean conceded.

"I know. I'll send you a few of these to post to your feeds."

Dean rubbed the side of his face and smiled in exasperation, gaze sliding over to Cas. The man looked as rattled as Dean had felt but met Dean's eyes with a thin smile of his own.

It took until after eleven, which Dean later blamed on the alcohol and the fact that he had been actively trying not to stare, for it to twig that something was off. The nagging feeling made him scan the crowd repeatedly until he realized the problem was Cas. Even though Charlie and Kevin were passionately debating horror movies and whether gore or jumpscare made the most impact, Cas had dropped out of conversation. Dean took in the way his fingers were curled under, almost a fist, the hunch of his shoulders, the fixed, pinched expression… It was on Dean's tongue to ask if Cas was okay before he realized he didn't need to; Dean knew he wasn't.

"Okay, I gotta tell you, I'm beat," he groaned when there was a pause in the horror dispute.

"Winchester, it's not even midnight," Charlie complained.

"Yeah, well, you ain't the one who has to get on another thirty-six-hour train ride tomorrow," he pointed out.

"Thirty-six hours?! You're going to Kansas, not Hawaii!"

Kevin gave Charlie a look that clearly meant, Are you serious?

Dean snorted, considering it partial proof of his fear that city folks really had no idea how large the United States was. He looked to Cas. "Sorry to cut the evening a little short, but I think I am about hitting my limit."

"Of course. You had a long trip in." His relief bled through despite the evenness of his voice. "I can walk back with you, if Charlie and Kevin want to stay."

"Hey." Kevin leaned forward. "Brunch tomorrow? We all have the day off."

Cas nodded. "Text us when you're up."

He and Dean left the younger generation to their next round of drinks, exiting into the cool air outside. The streets were bright, the sky above glowing gray with the reflected light.

"Thanks," Dean murmured, falling into step beside him, raising one arm with the intent to wrap it over his neck before checking himself, shoving his hands into jacket pockets. Yikes, no. Cas had broad shoulders that Dean was interested in learning the shape of, and he got touchy when he'd had a few drinks. Better remember to take it easy on the beer during their road trip…

"I was feeling ready to leave myself," Cas confessed, "so perhaps I should be thanking you."

Dean smiled to himself and let them lapse into silence. There were fewer people walking around now, although the city streets never seemed empty. Cars continued to flow by them, the sound of their passing occasionally punctuated by a horn or a siren, a nighttime soundtrack that just made Dean miss the field crickets and swaying grass of home. He wondered what Cas would think during his vacation, if he might long for the racket of New York City the same way.

After they were back to Cas's apartment, Dean got changed for bed, then sat on the couch in the living room while Cas did the same. He busied himself writing up a 'release party' post with Charlie's photos, focusing on getting the right words and remembering all the hashtags she wanted him using. When he hit 'Post' and glanced up, he did a quick double take, startled by the sight of the other man standing motionless a few feet into the room, blue eyes wide and fixed on Dean.

The breath went out of Dean's lungs. The loose t-shirt Cas wore revealed the lines of his forearms, his wrists, outlined by a shadow of soft hair, and Dean was absolutely not thinking about that. If it had been any other man… but this was uncharted territory. He broke away from the stare, eyes bouncing down to his flannel pajamas to reassure himself that everything was buttoned up and there wasn't any obvious reason for Cas to be transfixed.

"Uh, guess nights are colder in Kansas," he suggested, feeling like an idiot even as the words came out of his mouth.

Cas gave a start and seemed to break out of whatever had arrested his progress. "Yes, I expect they are. …Good night, Dean."

"Good night…" Dean's words were spoken to Cas's back; the other man had spun and exited so fast. Dean watched the doorway for a moment, mystified, but it became clear Cas wasn't coming back. He sighed, looked down at his hands. What was that…?

No answer presented itself to his tired, beer-soaked brain. He took another minute to type a reply to a text Sam had sent a few hours prior, then headed for bed, hoping he hadn't messed something up somehow.

The next morning, Cas seemed determined to dispel the weirdness of the night before, leading a conversation about his favorite spots in the city over cups of coffee. They met up with Charlie and Kevin for brunch, eating outside on the street at a restaurant that had about twenty kinds of pastries and anything you could think of on their breakfast menu. It was the first time Dean had seen Charlie less than bubbly, and he teased her between bites of crêpe.

"It's all downhill from twenty-five, Charles. Next thing you know, you'll be heading to bed at ten with us old timers…"

The bitchface she gave him wouldn't scrape Sam's top twenty, but he lightened up anyway, not wanting to kick a man while he was down. Kevin drank a full glass of water before picking at his scone and coffee, barely managing a few nods for the first hour. He kept shooting accusing glances at Dean's multi-plate sampler breakfast, finally rallying enough as the meal was wrapping up to go on a rant about Rogue One and Hamlet.

With his train slated to leave in a few hours, Charlie took on the task of escorting Dean back to the train station, ignoring his argument that he could find his own way there (probably). The group loitered for goodbyes momentarily on the sidewalk, pressing up against the patio wall to stay out of the way of the neverending stream of passersby.

"Thanks for the hospitality, Cas." Dean locked eyes with him that last minute before they parted on the street, probing. Cas looked the same as he ever had, fixing Dean with his typical intense stare, and Dean wondered if he'd misread the previous night entirely, if there hadn't been anything at all.

The midday June sun lit up the depths of Cas's blue eyes and a breeze tossed a few errant waves of his hair back and forth as he wished Dean a safe trip. There was one last beat of silence while they regarded one another, standing close and still while New York City rushed around them like a river.

Dean thought about that moment a lot in the weeks that followed.