A/N That last chapter is really short but it's exactly 666 words (which was actually an accident believe it or not) and I don't want to ruin it.

To say not much happens in Los Angeles would be a lie, but nothing worth writing about occurs. It takes about a month, but he does finish recording all his songs, and he has the first music video filmed within a week, completely void of costars to keep it a secret from as many people as possible.

He'll come back a week after his birthday and film the second single's video, which is pushing it with the deadlines, but by this point, he just wants a break from working on his album, if only for two weeks.

Until then, he's going home — accompanied by Dean and Misha, of course. Their schedules worked out well enough that Dean has to go back to New England at the same time Castiel is going back to California, so they'll get to go to the airport together and delay their parting just a little bit longer, but they still have two weeks together, and he wants to make the most of it.

Dean drops their bags on the floor of their house, and Castiel does the same, unclipping the leash and letting Misha run free around the house. He looks more excited than he ever does, probably glad that he's not cooped up in the hotel room anymore. Castiel makes a mental note to leave the dog with Lucifer next time instead of dragging him away.

Castiel lets out a long breath. "Home, sweet home."

"Never thought I'd miss this place," Dean tells him, "but compared to that hotel room, this is paradise."

"I can finally make my own food," Castiel observes, more excited than one would think. For the last month, as Dean was eating out all the time, Castiel just went to subway once a day, partially because he didn't have time, though he easily could have made some, but mostly because he definitely didn't have time to work out and burn it off. He's vaguely aware that it's not healthy to eat that little, but eventually, your stomach gets used to it, so he felt fine.

"Like cookies?" Dean suggests.

"Like cookies," Castiel agrees. "Do you think we have cookie stuff here? Could I make cookies now?"

Dean shrugs. "Not a clue. Go look."

It doesn't take long for Castiel to realize that they don't have everything they need. After a month, basically everything in the fridge has gone bad, so Castiel dumps it all in the trash while Dean does... something. He probably isn't even doing something. He's probably doing nothing and just doesn't want to help, knowing him.

He conveniently joins Castiel in the kitchen right as he's putting the trash away again. "No cookies?"

"Nope." Castiel sighs. "Probably for the best, though. I have to be in shape for my next music vid or people are gonna start bitching about it." He rolls his eyes. Girls have it so much easier. Society may tell them that they have to be thin, but at the same time, with the body positivity movement going on, it's losing its meaning very quickly for them, while Castiel and all the other guy celebrities are supposed to have a six pack because it's not like he has anything else to do with his life than work out, right? It's just ridiculous, but it's his life, as much as it sucks.

"Just hit the gym with me and try to keep up," Dean replies with a teasing grin. "If you manage to survive, you'll be in great shape."

"Oh, how cute," Castiel replies. "You think there's a possibility that I can keep up with a pro football player's workout."

Dean chuckles. "Not a chance, I know. If you worked for it, though, I'm sure you could. Then when football season ends, you'll probably out-bench me."

Seeing that Dean obviously doesn't believe it, Castiel tells him, "I'm gonna do it, and I'm going to crush you."

Dean scoffs. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, really," Castiel replies with confidence he doesn't really feel.

"Then game on."

~~

They hit up the gym, and, just like last time, Castiel tries to compete with him. He doesn't try to do it better, but at least equal would be nice. Of course, Dean just has to have the treadmill up to a completely unreasonable speed, and Castiel barely lasts ten minutes until he has to hop off to the sides, panting harder than he ever has. His legs burn and he doesn't want to stand on them anymore, but obviously, being in a public gym, he can't just sit down on the floor, so he suffers through it.

Dean smiles slightly and hops off the treadmill as well, breathing heavily as well but not as bad off as Castiel is. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and gives his boyfriend a grin.

"Well, A for effort," he says teasingly.

Castiel holds up a finger to tell him to wait a moment as he tries to catch his breath. Finally, he says, one syllable per forced breath, "I hate you."

"You love me," Dean says confidently.

"I fucking hate you."

Dean just laughs. "Hey, maybe you'll be able to squat more than me."

He can't.

Dean is like a freaking god over there, and Castiel doesn't even try to keep up. He pushes himself harder than he usually would to make himself look somewhat okay athletically in comparison to his boyfriend, but he's still nowhere near as strong as Dean. It's not a surprise, if course, but it's a bit disheartening that Dean bests him in everything.

"I have to be better than you at something," Castiel whines. "It doesn't even have to be athletic. At this point, literally anything counts."

"Guitar?" Dean suggests.

Castiel scoffs. "Funny joke. You're just as good as I am."

"N— well, maybe, actually," Dean concedes. "How about singing?"

"That's debatable," Castiel replies. "You're pretty good at that, too."

"Hmm..." Dean thinks for a moment. "Friendliness. Boom. You win."

"Okay, that one's a fact," Castiel agrees. "And now I feel better about my life, so thanks for that."

"No problem," Dean replies. "Anything for you."