
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4201320.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Jessica_Moore/Sam_Winchester, Lisa_Braeden/Dean
      Winchester, Castiel/Meg_Masters, Dean_Winchester/Castiel
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Castiel, Sam_Winchester, Mary_Winchester, John
      Winchester, Gabriel_(Supernatural), Anna_Milton, Balthazar_
      (Supernatural), Benny_Lafitte, Garth_Fitzgerald_IV, Bobby_Singer, Lisa
      Braeden, Jessica_Moore, Ellen_Harvelle, Meg_Masters, Rachel_
      (Supernatural)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Abusive_John
      Winchester, John_Winchester's_A+_Parenting, Jessica_Moore_Lives,
      Religious_Castiel, Bottom_Dean, Top_Dean, Bottom_Castiel, Top_Castiel,
      Public_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Homophobia, homosexual_cas, Gay_Sex, Bisexual_Dean
      Winchester, Hand_Jobs, Loss_of_Virginity, Best_Friends, Dean_Being_an
      Idiot, Castiel_Being_an_Idiot, Protective_Dean_Winchester, Nerd_Sam, Big
      Brother_Dean, Big_Brother_Gabriel, Jealous_Dean_Winchester, Lisa_Being_an
      Asshole, Dean_Has_Self-Worth_Issues, Dean_Has_Feelings_For_Castiel,
      Castiel_Has_a_Crush_on_Dean, Oblivious_Dean, Oblivious_Castiel, dean
      loves_theater, Castiel_is_GSA_President, Twink_Castiel, Castiel_is_Not_a
      Morning_Person, Morning_Sex, Castiel's_Terrible_Family, Sexual
      Experimentation, Sexual_orientation_change_effort, castiel's_mom_is_an
      asshole, Additional_Warnings_Apply, Closeted_Dean, Closeted_Castiel,
      Supportive_Sam, Anna_Ships_It, Everyone_Ships_Castiel/Dean_Winchester,
      Dirty_Talk, Bottoming_from_the_Top, Topping_from_the_Bottom, First_Time
      Bottoming, Slow_Burn, sort_of
  Series:
      Part 1 of Cas,_the_Righteous_Man
  Collections:
      The_Destiel_Fan_Survey_Favs_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-25 Completed: 2015-08-27 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 43863
****** What the Righteous Man Wanted ******
by rea_of_sunshine
Summary
          “Cas, it’s not going to break.” Dean, just to prove it, stomps
     once, twice, three times against the ice. He even slams both feet
     down against it just for good measure, laughing when his foot slips
     and he crashes to the ice.
          “Dean!” Cas yelps, tears welling in his eyes and hands reaching
     for Dean.
          “Cas, I’m fine,” Dean assures, moving to stand, eyes locked on
     Cas.
          Then the ice breaks, and Dean falls through. The last thing he
     sees is Cas’ horrified face, helpless to stop him from falling before
     the cold hits him, stabbing the air from his lungs with fingers like
     knives and stealing every thought in his brain. He was pulled from
     the water that day, but later, he would remember the exhilaration of
     the ride and the joy of the laughter and the fear of the fall and the
     cold of the water, and he would think that that’s what loving Cas has
     always felt like. A constant back and forth of laughter and cold, of
     warmth and sickness, of love and hate. Loving Cas has never been
     easy, but falling for him has always been the easiest thing in the
     world.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
          Be warned of John's continued and excessive homophobia
     throughout the chapter, work, and series. He's a dick. Sorry.
          Also, in the beginning, I envisioned little Dean as little
     Jensen instead of Ridge Canipe as the show portrayed him in 1.18 and
     3.08, so if any of you are wondering where the heck I'm getting a
     cute little blonde with a bowl-cut, that would be where.
**** Prologue ****
     “Dean, are you sure this is a good idea?” Dean Winchester throws his head
back and laughs.
     “Come on, Cas. Live a little,” Dean says, leaning forward to clap his best
friend on the shoulder. The smaller boy huffs, his breath leaving steam clouds
with every exhale. Dean tightens his scarf, straightens his toboggan, and pulls
Cas down into the snow.
     “Dean, it’s very cold. If the ice breaks, we could freeze,” Cas says,
blowing snowflakes away from him as he settles onto the sled behind Dean.
     “The ice won’t break. Me and Sammy have done this a million times!” Dean
wraps his hands around the ropes and jerks forward, letting out an excited
shriek as they begin to slide. Cas’ face buries in Dean’s layers of clothes,
his arms wrapped around Dean’s middle. Dean just laughs, eyes glued open
against the cold and joy as they slide on and on, down each hill they go over
until they ease to a halt over the frozen pond. Dean rolls off the sled
laughing, but Cas stays frozen, even as Dean falls away. “See, Cas!” Dean
hoops, jumping to his feet and slipping back across the ice to his best friend.
“Wasn’t that so much fun?” Cas pries his eyes open and stares at his best
friend in horror.
     “That was terrifying,” Cas mutters, tears springing to his eyes. “Dean,
please get me off the ice. What if it breaks?”
     “Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asks, stepping forward and straightening Cas’
toboggan, brushing the snowy hair away to see Cas’ eyes.
     “Please, Dean. It’s going to break.” Dean can hear the terror rising in
Cas’ voice.
     “Cas, it’s not going to break.” Dean, just to prove it, stomps once,
twice, three times against the ice. He even slams both feet down against it
just for good measure, laughing when his foot slips and he crashes to the ice.
     “Dean!” Cas yelps, tears welling in his eyes and hands reaching for Dean.
     “Cas, I’m fine,” Dean assures, moving to stand, eyes locked on Cas.
     Then the ice breaks, and Dean falls through. The last thing he sees is
Cas’ horrified face, helpless to stop him from falling before the cold hits
him, stabbing the air from his lungs with fingers like knives and stealing
every thought in his brain. He was pulled from the water that day, but later,
he would remember the exhilaration of the ride and the joy of the laughter and
the fear of the fall and the cold of the water and he would think that that’s
what loving Cas has always felt like. A constant back and forth of laughter and
cold, of warmth and sickness, of love and hate. Loving Cas has never been easy,
but falling for him has always been the easiest thing in the world.
     
**** Chapter 1 ****
     “Okay, Dean, can you tell me your address?” Mary’s voice is soft, her
smile, loving, her posture, open. Dean sits perched on her hip, his chubby
five-year-old fingers running absently through his mother’s hair. Mary thinks
it’s a nervous habit, a comfort during stressful times.
     “One, two, two, six,” Dean starts, nodding his head with every number he
pops out. He’s proud of knowing his address. He doesn’t think many other five
year olds know their address. “Double Springs…” Dean falters. He knows there
are streets. He knows there are roads. He just doesn’t know what his is.
“Double Springs Street,” he decides finally, and his mother smiles.
     “Close,” she says, and kisses his nose. “Double Springs Road.” He groans
and lays his head on his mother’s shoulder. She smiles and opens the door, the
smell of glue and Play-Doh hitting them both instantly.
     “Mommy,” he asks, tugging gently at her hair. “What if none of the other
kids like me?” His voice is small, his green eyes, wide. Mary smiles softly.
     “They’re going to love you,” she tells him before kneeling down before
him. “Now listen. I know you’re scared about your first day of school, but
you’re already so smart. You’ll fit right in.”
     “I wish Sammy could come to school with me,” Dean tells her softly,
watching her blonde hair fall through his fingers. He shifts slightly, his
backpack a weight between his small shoulders that he’s not yet use to. Mary
squats down and gently pulls him off her, brushing over his cheekbones with her
thumbs.
     “How about this? After school today, we’ll go to get ice cream.”
     “Sammy too?” Dean asks excitedly, eyes wide in his request.
     “Sammy too,” Mary laughs, brushing her hands over his face again. Dean
smiles and nods vigorously. “Good. Now go make some friends. I love you.”
Though she smiles as he runs off, she spends the day worrying, but he does not.
He colors, and he giggles. He naps, and he plays. He does not, in any way, act
like he is different from the rest of them, because he isn’t. He’s just Dean
Winchester, freckle-faced, green-eyed, happy-hearted Dean Winchester, and when
he goes home that day, his mother scribbles her husband a quick note of their
whereabouts and loads her children into the car for ice cream.
     Baby Sammy makes a mess. Big boy Dean makes a mess. Mary laughs at their
sticky hands and their sugary kisses and takes them home to warm baths and
clean beds. The second day of school begins much as the first. The mid-August
air kisses Dean’s sleepy cheeks and his half-closed eyes. Mary carries him
through the door again and drops him at his seat with a soft kiss to his
forehead.
     “I love you, mommy,” he says softly, and she tells him she loves him back
before standing and leaving. The beginning of the school year passes in a blur
for Dean. He learns his alphabet, all the way up to his P’s with example words
and silly songs for everyone. “A says ah or aye or ahh. Apple or alien,
alligator too,” follows his every step. He learns his colors. “My eyes are
green,” he tells baby Sam one night. “Your socks are blue. Mom’s hair is
yellow.” He learns his numbers. “Onetwothreefourfivesixseven—mom look how fast
I can count!—eightnineteneleven,” becomes his favorite game. He is happy. He is
normal, and as Mary puts him to sleep one night early November, no one has any
idea that when he wakes, he will no longer be the normal and happy child he
once was.
     The fire burns the house to the ground. It leaves nothing but char and ash
and the tiny lockbox that has the boys’ birth certificates in it. It doesn’t
even leave a body for the widowed father and his two boys to bury. It takes
everything from them, including their mother, and from that point on, Dean
doesn’t see a point in learning his letters or his colors or his numbers.
     John moves them to a new house a few towns over, one with a big yard and
lots to do to keep their minds off all they’ve lost. John asks a lot of Dean.
He asks him to go to school during the day, to help out with Sammy at night, to
stay strong without his mother all on his own, but Dean Winchester is not in
the habit of disappointing his father. The first day at his new school is the
hardest for him. Of all things, they are learning their addresses. Every child
spits out a string of numbers and a street name, but when it’s Dean’s turn, his
tiny voice shakes out 1226 Double Springs Road, and the teacher frowns.
     “No, Dean,” the teacher says, surely a nice lady but unaware of the crisis
this child has been through. “Your address is 403 Sceadan Street,” she corrects
gently, and the entire class of grubby kindergarteners laughs at Dean. He
flushes and ducks his head. When recess comes, he hides behind a big tree so no
one will see him cry.
     “Why are you crying?” someone asks, a soft voice that stands over Dean.
Dean pushes his face further into his arms. “Come on. Why are you crying?” the
kid asks again, and Dean finally pulls his face out of his elbow. The boy
before him has a big tuft of light brown hair attached to his skull and big
blue eyes.
     “My mom died,” Dean says, and the kid before him blinks and sits.
     “My mom says I don’t have a dad,” the kid says and begins pulling grass up
by its roots.
     “Of course you have a dad. Everyone has a dad.” The kid blinks again,
slowly taking in what Dean says.
     “You don’t have a mom,” the kid says after a moment with a shrug. “It’s
the same thing,” and Dean wipes his nose, leaving a trail of snot along his
sleeve.
     “I have a mom. She’s just gone…” Dean says after a moment and rubs at his
nose again. The kid before him says nothing for a long while.
     “You’re the kid that lives at 403 Sceadan Street, right?” he asks finally,
and Dean shrugs.
     “I guess. We just moved in.”
     “I live at 406 Sceadan. That means you live right down the road from me.”
The kid blinks at Dean again. “My name is Castiel Milton,” the kid says and
pushes a hand with dirty nails out for Dean to take."You can call me Cas."
     “I’m Dean,” he says and takes Castiel’s hand into his. They don’t really
know what they are doing. They are merely playing at things they’ve seen grown-
ups do, so when their almost-shake ends, they sit under that tree hand in hand
until the teacher calls for the end of recess. They walk to the classroom hand
in hand, and when the day is over, they walk home hand in hand. John sits on
the porch, sprawled about with a beer bottle in one hand.
     “Dean Winchester,” he slurs, and Dean’s spine goes rigid. His dad can be
very scary without his mom to calm him down. “Just what the hell do you think
you’re doing?”
     “Nothing, Dad,” Dean says, eyes dropping to his shoes.
     “You’re holding hands with that boy,” he slurs, leaning forward and
narrowing his eyes at his son.
     “This is Castiel. He’s my new friend,” Dean says, looking over at the
blue-eyed boy. He doesn’t look scared, so Dean decides that he won’t be scared
either. He looks back to his father, his chin held up. The two stare at one
another for a long moment, John’s lips twitching and Dean’s hands trembling.
Not being afraid is a lot harder than Dean thought. Cas squeezes his fingers
gently, but suddenly, John lunges forward and grips Dean’s arm, jerking him
away from Castiel. Dean’s eyes widen in terror as John reels him close and
shakes him by the top of his arms. He smells like alcohol.
     “You don’t hold hands with boys,” he says, shaking Dean with every word.
“That’s fucking queer, and Winchesters don’t tolerate queer.” Dean nods his
head furiously. “You queer boy?” Dean shakes his head even more furiously. John
lets him go all at once. “Good,” he spits and steps away, scooping his beer up
and taking a swig, his glassed-over eyes still narrowed on Dean. “Get inside.”
Dean doesn’t look back at Cas as he runs inside. Instead, he runs past the
living room and down the hall, straight into Sammy’s room. He’s laying on his
back screaming, no telling how long he’s been lying there screaming. Dean
swallows down his tears to scoop his baby brother up, rocking him as he gently
as his trembling hands will allow.
     “What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean asks, as though the six month old will answer
him. He doesn’t need to answer for Dean to know. When Dean shifts his hands,
one landing on Sam’s bottom, it comes back immediately soaked. Dean looks
around. He’s five. He doesn’t know how to change a diaper, but he doesn’t want
to bother his dad. His arms still hurt where John grabbed him, so he learns. He
changes Sam’s diaper, but that only slows the crying. If John comes in and
hears Sam crying, he’ll probably get mad, maybe at Dean, maybe at Sam, and Dean
doesn’t know what to do. He panics.
     “Hey Jude,” he sings, swinging Sam slowly. “Don’t make it bad. Take a sad
song and make it better.” Sam’s teary eyes widen, his small brows pulling
together as he forgets to cry and listens to Dean. “Remember to let her into
your heart, then you can start to make it better.” Dean sings the song softly,
and when he finishes and Sam resumes crying, he sings it again. He doesn’t
really mind. Eventually, Sam falls asleep, and Dean puts him back in his crib
before going back to his own room and crawling between the sheets, tears in his
eyes.
     “I miss you, mommy,” he whispers. “I miss you a whole lot, but I’ll take
good care of Sammy. Don’t worry,” and he falls asleep. He sleeps fitfully for a
few hours before he is awoken by a quick succession of knocks. He sits up
suddenly. “Whoever’s there, my dad was a marine and, and he’ll beat you up!”
     “Psst,” a voice says, sending Dean jumping from his bed and running to the
light switch. As soon as he flicks it on, he looks around his room, checking
under the bed and in the closet and finding no one. “Dean,” the voice calls,
the tapping resuming once more, this time behind Dean. He turns quickly, only
to see a pale face hanging in the window. He lets out a small shriek.
     “Damn it, Dean,” his father growls from down the hall. “I’m trying to
sleep here!” Dean snaps his head towards his door, then looks back to his
window. He takes a step closer, and this time, he makes out a pair of very
bright eyes and light brown hair.
     “Cas,” he asks, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes.
     “Yes, please let me in. My arms are getting tired.” Dean scrambles onto
the foot of his bed, and opens his window, even going so far as to help pull
Cas in to save him from hanging there much longer. His window isn’t too high,
but he knows from experience that crawling through it can be hard, especially
for someone little like Cas.
     “What are you doing?” Dean asks when Cas gets situated on his bed. Dean
sees that he is wearing bee pajamas.
     “Did you mean what you said? About us being friends?” Cas asks, fiddling
with his fingers in his lap before snapping his eyes up to Dean, his head
cocked to the side slightly.
     “Um, yes?” Cas takes a long time to respond.
     “I’ve never had a friend before,” he says finally, but it doesn’t sound
like it saddens him. It just sounds like facts falling from the small child’s
lips. Dean frowns. He had lots of friends at his old school. Ash and Chuck and
Victor, and he was even friends with that girl named Donna. Now though, now he
only has Cas.
     “You’ll like it,” Dean says softly. “Friends hang out together and have
sleepovers and movie marathons and tell each other secrets that no one else can
know.” Cas’ mouth twitches with what Dean thinks is a smile.
     “It sounds nice,” Cas murmurs, fiddling with his fingers again. “Can we
have a sleepover tonight?” he asks, blue eyes wide and hopeful.
     “Dad would be mad if I had a sleepover without asking,” Dean says softly,
sitting on the bed next to Cas.
     “I don’t think I like your dad very much,” Cas says, and had Dean not been
so shocked, he’d have been mad. “He looked like he was hurting you.”
     “He wasn’t,” Dean mutters, even though he had. He doesn’t want Cas to get
his dad in trouble.
     “Okay,” Cas says simply, and they leave it at that. “I should probably go
home,” Cas says finally and stands. “See you tomorrow.”
     The next morning, Dean is awoken by the screaming of his alarm clock. He
peeks open his eyes and watches the blinking of the clock before pushing the
button to shut it off. Dean finds his dad in the kitchen, sitting at the table
with Sam in a high chair.
     “Hey, Dean,” John says when he spots him, a big smile covering his face.
Dean offers a small one in return. “Sit down, son. I want to talk to you.” So
Dean sits because John gave him an order, and that’s just what happens when
John gives an order. It is obeyed. “I’m sorry I was so tough on you yesterday.”
     “It’s okay,” Dean replies, because he somehow knows that if John saw the
bruises on his arms, he’d be even more mad.
     “No, it’s not. I love you, son, and I want you to grow up well, not as
some faggot.”
     “Okay, Dad,” Dean says, his eyes on his hands.
     “Chin up. The bus is going to be here soon.”
     “I think I’ll walk today,” he murmurs and turns away from his father. He
steps towards Sam instead, as he always has. Sam grins when he looks at Dean,
coos when Dean leans over to kiss his forehead, and whines when Dean starts to
step away. “Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean says, stepping closer and taking his baby
brother’s hand in his. “I’ll be back, soon. I promise.” Sam smiles again at the
sound of Dean’s voice, and this time when he tries to walk away, there’s no
crying.
     The second day of school for Dean is not nearly as bad as the first.
Today, he has Cas. They giggle, as kids are supposed to do. They play, as kids
are supposed to do. Dean likes that Cas makes him feel like it isn’t his
responsibility to worry. They walk home together again that day, racing down
the streets or stopping to poke bugs.
     “See that window over there?” Cas asks, hanging upside down from the tree
in his front yard, an arm stretched out as he points. Dean sits in the grass at
the trunk, staring up at Cas. “That’s my room. I have an aquarium. Would you
like to see?”
     “Actually, I need to check on my brother,” Dean says and stands, brushing
the dirt off his pants and turning for his house. “I’ll see you later, Cas,” he
says and walks away, leaving Cas hanging in the tree, his arms dangling below
him. When Dean makes it to his house, he finds Sam scooting around on the
floor, babbling the whole time. “Look at you go, Sammy!” he laughs, sitting
beside his brother and watching him scoot around.
     “Dean,” John calls, so he stands and makes his way to his father. John
hardly sees Dean when he looks at him. “Make your brother a bottle, would you?”
John asks, so of course Dean goes to do so, pulling a chair to the cabinet
because he’s not tall enough to reach it on his own. John sits slouched at the
table, rubbing his eyes. Dean doesn’t mind making bottles for Sammy. It makes
him feel important, like Sam needs him.
     This time though, as he grasps the edge of the bottle, the chair slips out
from under him, sending him and the entire shelf that the bottle was on
shattering towards the ground. Dean is too shocked to cry, doubly so when he
feels John jerk him away before he hits the ground.
     “You stupid boy!” he shouts, holding Dean up by his wrist, the rest of his
body hanging limp like some rag doll, too frozen to stand. “Damned kid,” he
spits, throwing Dean to the side, away from the glass. “You ruin everything you
touch!” Now, Dean begins to cry, but they are silent tears, tears so his dad
doesn’t hear.
     “I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Please
don’t be mad. I can clean it up,” Dean says after a moment, his tiny voice
shaking. He wipes at his eyes.
     “Just go watch Sam,” John spits, leaning down to sift through the broken
glass and plastic bottles. Dean goes to watch Sam, hating every tear that falls
down his face. That night, as he lays in bed, he thinks about what his dad
said. Do I really ruin everything? He asks himself, staring at the moonlight
falling through the window. Maybe it’s my fault Dad is so angry all the time.
Maybe it’s my fault Mommy died, he muses, and the very idea hurts him. The
tears once again begin to stream down his face, falling onto his pillow and
wetting his cheeks. I was holding hands with Cas. Dean crawls from under the
covers and stands on the foot of his bed, craning his neck to see out of the
window. He wants to know if Cas is still awake. He wants to know if Cas can
make this better like he made school better. Dean pulls on his shoes and climbs
out of the window before running across the yard, across the street to Cas’
window.
     “Cas,” he says quietly, knocking on the window, tears still spilling down
his face. Cas’ window isn’t as high as Dean’s, so he just stands on his tip-
toes to see inside instead of hanging by his forearms as Cas had. He knocks
louder, tears falling faster because he doesn’t want to be alone. He wants to
be with his friend, with the friend who makes him laugh instead of the father
who makes him cry. “Please, Cas,” he whimpers, putting his head down on the
cool brick of Cas’ windowsill. He doesn’t want to leave, but he’s getting cold
because he left without at jacket and a storm is rolling in. He knows he’ll get
sick if he stays outside any longer, so, with tears still in his eyes, he turns
away.
     “Dean,” he hears a voice ask, and he whips around to find Cas’ sleepy face
leaning out of his now opened window. His hair is stuck to his head on one
side, in a state of chaos on the other. Dean laughs a shaky laugh. “What are
you doing here? Are you crying?”
     “Can we have that sleep over now?” Dean asks, stepping back to Cas’ window
and peering up at him. Cas stares at Dean for a moment before moving aside,
making room for him to crawl through and offering a hand when he gets stuck in
the middle. As soon as he is inside, Dean immediately drops that hand, his
cheeks heating and his father’s words echoing in his mind. You don’t hold hands
with boys. That’s fucking queer, and Winchesters don’t tolerate queer.
     “Dean,” Cas asks, cocking his head at Dean, his eyebrows knit together.
Dean looks at Cas, begging him silently not to ask, begging him silently to
just let the tears on his face be ignored. The rest of Cas’ words die in his
throat. Dean smiles a bit and looks around. Dean’s room is decorated with cool
stuff. He’s got comic books and action figures and toy trucks and a rocket ship
bedspread that his dad’s best friend Bobby gave him, but Cas’ room is pretty
cool too, Dean guesses. He’s got a bumble bee bedspread to match his bumble bee
pajamas and a tank full of colorful fish.
     “Cool,” he croons, stepping closer and leaning to see them all. The tank
has at least a dozen fish in it, all of varying colors and patterns.
     “Thank you,” Cas says, sitting on his bed and kicking his feet. Dean turns
around eventually.
     “Did I wake you up?” Dean asks, walking over and sitting on the bed next
to Cas.
     “Yes, but I don’t mind,” he says, shrugging and threading his fingers
together. Dean wonders in passing if it’s okay for boys to hold hands with
themselves.
     “You can go back to sleep. I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dean offers, standing
and bending to untie his shoes. “Do you have an extra pillow and a blanket?”
     “No,” Cas says, kicking his legs once more. “But there’s plenty of room on
the bed.” Dean stops in the untying of his shoes and looks to Cas. Dean wonders
if his dad would be mad if he shared a bed with Cas. He’s shared a bed with
Sammy before. He thinks it’s the same thing.
     “Okay,” Dean says, and finishes kicking off his shoes before crawling into
the bed beside Cas. The two children lie there looking at one another for a
long while before one or the other’s blinking grows slow and sleepy.
     “Dean,” Dean hears, right as sleep threatens to overcome him. He opens his
eyes to find Cas staring at him. “Why were you crying tonight?” he asks, his
voice a whisper. Dean debates not telling him. He thinks that maybe he should
lie, tell Cas that he fell and scraped his knee or something, but then he
remembers explaining to Cas what friendship is. He remembers telling him that
friendship is trusting one another with secrets.
     “Are you my best friend, Cas?” Dean asks, his voice soft like Cas’. His
hair is white in the moonlight.
     “I think so,” Cas answers, uncertainly. His brows are knit together again,
and if his head weren’t pressed into the pillow, Dean feels sure it would be
cocked to the side.
     “I need you to be sure, ‘cause some things you can only tell your best
friend,” Dean says seriously.
     “Then, yes. I’m your best friend,” Cas replies with nod, just as serious
as Dean.
     “And you’ll be my best friend for forever?”
     “I’d like to be your best friend for forever,” Cas says, his eyebrows
still knit together. Dean lets out a small laugh.
     “You’re a weird dude, Cas,” he says, closing his eyes again.
     “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend,” Cas mutters,
pulling Dean’s eyes open with the hurt tone in his voice.
     “Sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean it. Best friends are also kind of mean to each
other,” Dean explains with a shrug.
     “I don’t understand.”
     “Neither do I,” Dean admits with a smile.
     “Why were you crying?” Cas asks again, this time scooting a bit closer, to
the point that Dean nearly has to cross his eyes to see him straight.
     “I broke a bunch of plates,” Dean murmurs, blinking slowly as to stave off
the tears he can feel forming again.
     “Did you get cut?”
     “No,” Dean answers softly, his voice barely there at all.
     “Then what was the matter?”
     “My dad said I ruin everything I touch,” he says after a long moment, and
no sooner than the words have slipped past his lips, he is crying, big, heavy,
hot tears that fall down his face and land on Cas’ bumble bee sheets.
     “Why would he say that?” Cas asks, watching in horror as Dean cries in his
bed.
     “Because it’s true! I killed my mommy,” he wails, and Cas’ heart wrenches
in his chest. He scoots a bit closer to Dean and wraps a skinny arm around
Dean’s heaving back, pulling the taller boy close to his chest and letting him
cry. Cas doesn’t think Dean killed his mommy. He doesn’t think Dean could hurt
anyone on purpose. Even so, he holds his new best friend tight to his chest
until his sobs become snores and the moonlight becomes sunlight. They are
awoken by a squealing child and thundering footsteps. Dean is jolted awake
thinking it’s Sam, thinking it’s his father. Cas is jolted awake because Dean
shoots ramrod straight in his bed. He watches with sleepy confusion as Dean
takes in his surroundings in a quick succession, his mouth set into a deep
frown. When his eyes land on Cas, his face relaxes a bit, realization smoothing
his mouth into a more neutral state.
     “You better stop running, Anna,” a male voice says playfully, followed by
the squealing child again.
     “Those are my siblings,” Cas says, watching as Dean reaches up and covers
a yawn before trying to straighten his blonde hair down into its usual bowl
shape. Cas rolls out of bed and stretches. Dean follows shortly after, walking
with him into the hall and poking his head out to see the running children.
“Anna is three, and Gabriel is fourteen.”
     “My little brother isn’t even one yet,” Dean says with a fond smile. The
small child lets out another squeal of delight as her older brother scoops her
into his arms and blows raspberries against her stomach.
     “You didn’t tell me you had company, Castiel,” a woman says, and Dean
turns to see a tall lady with reddish brown hair and a tight smile.
     “Sorry, mom,” Castiel says, dropping his eyes.
     “What’s your name?” his mother asks, leaning down and getting to eye level
with Dean.
     “Dean Winchester,” Dean says, staring up at the fierce woman before him.
He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass. Her eyes narrow at the name.
     “Winchester,” she mimics softly, but Dean can only nod. After another
moment of staring at him, she straightens and puts on a fake smile. “Well, Dean
Winchester, I have a very important question for you.” Dean swallows nervously,
looking up to her with wide eyes. “Do you like pancakes?”
     Dean sits at Castiel’s kitchen table and eats pancakes doused in syrup
from a plate shaped like a frog. He hasn’t been happier in weeks. Sitting at
that table surrounded by sweets and Cas and Cas’ family, he doesn’t worry about
Sam or about John. When he’s with Cas, he gets to be the kid he’s supposed to
be.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
     The years pass just like that. Dean splits his time between his house and
Cas’, laughing and crying and telling everything to Cas, watching out for
Sammy. Twelve years later finds them much in the same place. A few differences,
of course. Dean’s hair is darker, leveling out at a light brown, sandy blonde
if you squint. Cas’ hair is darkest, coming in at a shocking coal, chocolate
brown in just the right light. Anna turned out hot, thin and curved and
porcelain. Sam turned out tall, what he lacks in muscle made up for in his ever
growing height. Cas turned out gay, trusting only Dean with the fact. Dean is
in the drama club, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters is the
silence falling around them.
      “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Dean says, his eyes
shining in the darkness. The collective breaths from the audience are nothing
but a whir from the other side of the curtain. His best friend grins.
     “You were made for this,” Cas says, straightening the tie on Dean’s neck.
     “I was made for greasy cheese burgers and short-skirted cheerleaders. A
play about a gay prince, made for, I was not.” Dean worms away from the make-up
brush Cas is trying to force on him.
     “Okay, you’re playing an army lieutenant, not Yoda.”
     “Remind me never to befriend another president of the GSA,” Dean says with
a roll of his eyes. He’s nervous. He’s never done a play where his love
interest is another dude, but as a drama club senior veteran, Dean Winchester
considers himself a professional. Professionals don’t let a little thing like
sexuality get in the way of their characters.
     “Please,” Cas snorts, pushing back the curtain a bit to see the crowd of
students waiting for the play to begin. “I’m the only kid dumb enough to take
on being the president of the GSA.”
     “True.” They both stare out at the audience. A quiet hum runs through
them, half of the students waiting to tear the play apart and the other to put
it in the pile with the rest of the school’s greatest.
     “You nervous?” Cas asks, still grazing his eyes over the crowd.
     “No,” Dean lies smoothly. “Are you?”
     “Well,” Cas starts, running a hand through his hair, leaving it in further
disarray. “The play I spent the better half of my high school career writing
and editing and making adequate is about to showcase. The audience is mostly
straight, meaning they probably won’t feel it like they should.” Cas lets out a
long breath. Dean can feel the tension radiating off him. “I’m not nervous at
all.” Dean smiles at his best friend.
     “Cas, you wrote an amazing play. I mean, you’re a helluva nerd for writing
a play about Frederick William II.” Dean sways gently into Cas’ shoulder,
teasing him softly. “But regardless of sexual orientation, people will feel
this play. It will destroy them.” Cas laughs.
     “As a writer, that’s all I can ask for,” Cas replies with a grin.
     “Good,” Dean says, even though he knows Cas is still nervous. “Because
your best friend, i.e., me, has got this play in the palm of his hands.”
     “Thank God,” Cas says with a roll of his eyes and half a grin.
     “Castiel, curtain in two,” says Balthazar, a snarky British exchange
student with a headset much too small for his huge ego.
     “Okay, thanks,” Cas says, and Balthazar disappears back into the folds of
the curtains. Cas breathes in a deep breath before turning back to Dean. “Break
a leg out there.”
     “Back at ya,” Dean says, and goes to take his place upstage. In the
moments as he stands on his mark, his mind tumbles over his every line. When
Cas first showed him the play, it was in its first stages and shined like
nothing he’d ever read before. Granted, Dean only read SparkNotes of his
assigned reading and maybe a Dr. Seuss or two, but still. He could tell that
Cas had put everything into this play, so when he asked if Dean would play the
lead’s love interest, Dean was shocked. He was flattered, and some part of him
couldn’t help but think he could never do his best friend’s play justice.
Still, he glides seamlessly through his lines, all the while thanking God that
Cas wrote the tale of the eighteenth-century love story in modern English.
     The curtains part.
===============================================================================
     “Okay, so not everyone got it and so maybe Kevin forgot a fewof his lines,
but Cas, I thought it was great.” Dean carries his bag over his shoulder, his
costume folded up neatly for tomorrow’s performance along with his gym clothes.
Cas holds his head in his hands.
     “It was a train wreck,” Cas says with a groan. “Garth was asleep when it
came time for the important light work, Benny’s accent came out so hard people
could hardly understand him, and you could completely tell the kiss, thekiss,
the single, solitary, most heart-wrenching kiss in the whole play was staged!”
Cas sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
     “Cas…” Dean says slowly. “I don’t mean to fan the flames of your disaster,
but…the whole play was staged.” Dean grins as the words reach Cas’ hunched
form. He straightens a bit in the darkness.
     “Hilarious,” he says, not without humor, and Dean nods.
     “I know.”
     “I just mean that Benny had his head angled completely wrong, and the
audience could see that you weren't reallly kissing.” Cas sighs again.
     “Cas, don’t beat yourself up about it. Tonight was practically a practice
run anyways. It was just the student body. Tomorrow is the important one,
right? That’s what you’ve been saying all along.”
     “Yes, but I still wanted tonight to be good.”
     “It was good, Cas,” Dean says, putting a hand on his best friend’s
shoulder, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk. “You put your heart into
this, and it shows.” Cas manages a small smile. “Now, I’m hungry, so what do
you say we go to Ellen’s and grab a burger?” Dean grins at his best friend, and
for the first time tonight, Cas really smiles at Dean.
     “Okay,” Cas says, so they do. Dean takes Cas to get burgers, and for a
while, they are together like they always have been. They laugh like they have
since they were five, and Cas lets Dean help him forget the disaster that was
his play. When they are full and satisfied, they walk home together in the dark
and part ways at the end of their adjacent driveways. The next morning finds
Cas tucked into his bed, his alarm clock screaming in time with his ringing
phone. Cas groans and answers, wiping the night from his eyes.
     “Hello,” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.
     “Cas,” the voice on the other end says…well, chokes. “Cas, I’m sick as a
dog, brotha’. There’s no,” the voice stops to cough, sending Cas shooting
straight up in his bed. He pulls the phone back from his face praying to God
that the caller ID doesn’t read Benny. “There’s no way I can make it tonight,”
Benny says, because of course the caller ID says Benny.
     “Benny, you have to! Tonight is the important show! You can’t be sick!”
Cas’ voice is frantic, but Benny can’t help but cough over him.
     “I’m real sorry, Cas, but,” he pauses to cough, and Cas has to admit that
he sounds like shit on toast. “There’s just no way.”
     “Damn it!” Cas hisses, takes the phone away from his ear to breathe, and
brings it back with a small piece of his control reclaimed. “Feel better,” he
tells Benny, then hangs up.
     That morning finds Dean sprawled on his stomach, Metallica playing softly
in his ears to drown out Sam’s television constantly blaring in the next room.
Sam can’t sleep without it, and Dean can’t sleep with it, so his headphones are
a resentful compromise. He is so enveloped in Metallica and…well, sleep, that
when Cas knocks on his window, he doesn’t stir in the slightest. Cas climbs
through the screen they’d long since removed anyway.
     “Dean,” he says, though he knows Dean cannot hear him. He huffs and jerks
the cord from Dean’s iPod, to which Dean immediately pushes himself up on his
elbows and looks around.
     “Sammy?” He asks blearily, automatically, still not having spotted Cas
standing by his window.
     “Dean, Benny is sick,” Cas says, distress tingeing into his voice. Dean
sits up completely and pulls the headphones off his ears.
     “What?” Dean asks, blinking stupidly at Cas. Cas tries to focus on Dean’s
bed head instead of the disaster the play will be without its lead.
     “Benny, he’s got the flu or something. I don’t know, but we don’t have a
Frederick! Dean, this is going to be a disaster. What am I going to do?” Cas
sits at the foot of Dean’s bed and runs a hand through his hair as he often
does when he’s stressed.
     “Cas, calm down." Dean rubs a hand over his eyes. "You’re his understudy,
right?” Dean asks, all traces of sleep gone from his voice, but he still has to
squint up at him. Cas nods slowly.
     "Yes, but I never intended on playing him. I've been focused on directing,
not acting."
     “So? You know the lines, and who could play Frederick William II better
than the man who created this representation of him?” Dean smiles at Cas, and
the sight of that smile alone is enough to send the rolling waves of Cas’
stomach into a perfect calm. That smile means everything will be alright,
really and truly.
     “You’re right. You’re right; it’ll be fine,” Cas says with a small shrug.
     “It’ll be more than fine. It’ll be great!” Dean’s excitement bleeds into
Cas, leaving them both grinning like idiots. They grin at each other for a long
moment until Cas shakes himself a bit and looks away from Dean.
     “I should go. I have to get Benny’s costume and tell everyone he won’t be
there.” Cas ducks back out of Dean’s window without another word.
     He stays gone for the rest of the morning, only resurfacing to have lunch
with Dean and to insist that Dean fix his hair before coming to the school.
Dean obliges simply to take some of the stress off Cas’ shoulders, and the next
time the curtains part, Dean is ready for the glare of the lights. He is ready
for the sudden silence of the crowd. He is ready for the immediate attention,
and he works it. He knows Cas will be out shortly, so he performs. He squares
his form into the soldier Cas wrote him to be, and delivers his lines. He loses
himself in it; so much so that when the curtain closes for intermission at the
end of act one, he is left upstage breathing heavily.
     “Dean,” Cas says, laying a hand on his shoulder, shocking Dean back into
reality. He is on his knees next to the gallows he helped Cas build. Fake
chains are on his wrists, and Dean takes the moment to breathe.
     “I’m good,” Dean says finally, and stands, shaking the chains away. Cas
narrows his eyes at Dean, but nods.
     “Take a break. The next couple of scenes are mostly mine.” Dean tries to
smile. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him; all he can think about is how
he’s never felt this with Benny. He’s never felt like the love and terror he
was channeling into his character was real, but here he is, staring at Cas,
thinking that he’s never seen the guy so free, thinking that he’s never seen
the guy so beautiful, thinking he'd do anything to protect him. Cas steps away
from Dean to help with the set change, but Dean finds himself rubbing his
perfectly manicured hair into worried spikes.
     Cas’ scenes go by without a hitch; Dean can feel the audience—now mostly
adults—sitting on the edge of their seats, afraid their very breaths may
shatter the frailty of their protagonist’s situation. Dean is amazed, as he
often is by Cas. Dean watches his usually clumsy and shy best friend move with
surprising grace and confidence on the stage. He is mesmerized, and when the
time comes that he must get back on stage, he has to shake himself out of the
trance Cas has put him in.
     The set up for their scene—thescene really—is simple. They are in a prison
cell, trapped by the light that Garth is successfully shining on them. Dean is
on his knees. He is bloodied. He is tired. Cas is shaken. He is worried, and
when he sees Dean, all he can do is fall to his knees next to him.
     “Don’t worry,” Cas is saying, and Dean has to stop and wonder what it is
that he shouldn’t be worrying about. He feels sure that with Cas so close,
nothing could be wrong. He shakes himself slightly.
     “Frederick,” Dean says, his voice broken of its own accord. His hands are
once again chained, but still, he reaches up and takes Cas’ face between his
hands. Cas’ eyes widen a bit.
     “Don’t worry; please, don’t worry. I’ll do something,” Cas says. They are
both angled to the audience. “I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry.”
     “It's alright,” Dean says in a soft and projected voice. “I got what I
wished for. I got you, if only for a moment.” Dean smiles a beaten and wary
smile. His heart is pounding, every instinct telling him to kiss Cas. It's the
script, and it's real, and Dean can’t move.
     “Dean, kiss me,” Cas whispers finally, urgently, and for a split second,
Dean forgets that he is onstage in front of hundreds of people, in front of his
Uncle Bobby, in front of his baby brother. He hauls Cas to him and kisses him,
opened mouthed and teeth clashing. Somewhere in his mind, Dean registers the
many sudden intakes of breath, but all he can focus on is the small gasp he
swallows from Cas. All he can focus on is how surprisingly soft Cas’ constantly
chapped lips are. All he can focus on is the fact that he is here, kissing Cas,
but then, all he can focus on, is the fact that Cas is pulling away. Cas’ wild
eyes are meeting with his, and Cas is scrambling away.
     “Wait,” Dean calls, because they have already messed the scene up.
“Please, come back,” he calls again. He stands and tries to follow Cas, but his
chains, though plastic, are tethered to the floor. They catch him, and all he
is left to do is watch Cas run away. The lights dim around him, and the
narrator’s voice comes out, rhythmically spilling some crap about why Frederick
fled to cover Cas’ bailing. Dean isn’t listening. He is reliving kissing Cas,
wondering at the fact that it felt like the most natural thing in the world to
be doing. Dean is trying to catch his eye even though Cas is standing across
the stage very pointedly looking anywhere but at Dean.
     When the time comes, they finish their scenes in character but without the
chemistry they previously had, and as soon as the curtains close for good, Cas
bolts, leaving even before he gets to enjoy the standing ovation he receives.
Dean follows shortly behind him, but after changing out of his costume and
telling Sam to catch a ride with Bobby, Cas has a pretty lengthy head start.
When Dean gets to their quiet little road, he heads straight for Cas’ house,
knocking rapidly on the door and receiving no response for his troubles.
     “Damn it,” he growls, leaving Cas’ doorstep behind in favor of where he
feels sure Cas has gone. The path is beaten; it is old. It is sunny summers and
two five year olds adventuring into the wilds. It is chilly mornings and two
seven year olds swinging sticks to clear their way. It is cloudy autumns and
two nine year olds hauling wood to build a tree house. It is rainy dusks and
two eleven year olds running back to their houses for movie night. It is snowy
afternoons and two thirteen year olds hiking back to their sanctuary. It is
humid dawns and two fifteen year olds trying to find a quiet place to talk.
Now, it is a starry night and one seventeen year old looking for his best
friend.
     “Cas,” he calls, stepping higher as the path meets the creek bed. The
lights in their tree house are off, but Dean can see enough by the moon to know
that Cas is sitting hunched on the porch watching the water carve its path
through the sand and stone. Dean walks to the tree and begins to climb, not
looking down until he is sitting safely next to Cas. “You okay?” he asks after
a moment of silence. Cas nods, his knees curled against his chest and his chin
on his arms.
     “The thing about it is,” he starts when Dean's eyes on him become too
much. “The kiss didn’t even happen.” Cas continues to stare out at the slow
moving creek, but Dean is stunned.
     “Um,” Dean starts, looking down to his hands, his face suddenly hot.
“Yeah, it did, Cas. I know it was,” but Cas breaks him off.
     “No, in real life, in Frederick William II’s life. There’s no proof, or
even speculation, that the kiss happened. I wrote it in because I couldn’t
understand how they could love each other so much and never have a physical
guarantee.” Dean breathes deeply, but Cas lets out a dry laugh before Dean can
respond. “I didn’t realize that emotional things don’t have to be physical.
Maybe what I should have realized is that physical things aren’t always
emotional.” Dean doesn’t know what to say; he finds himself following Cas’ eyes
to the water, feeling like Cas is jabbing at him to see him squirm. It's
working.
     “Cas,” he starts finally, silently fumbling for a way to explain himself.
“I didn’t mean to…you know..”
     “I know,” Cas says quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet Dean’s. “It
was just the heat of the moment, right?” Cas finally turns to Dean, a small
smile resting on his lips, but his eyes look tired, exhausted even.
     “I guess,” Dean says, and some part of himself believes it. Some part of
him believes that kissing Cas meant nothing, that he is still only interested
in girls, that he has no feelings for Cas, and the part of him
thatdoesn’tbelieve that, that knows exactly what kissing Cas means, that knows
he isn’t completely straight, that knows his feelings for Cas have never been
completely platonic…well, Dean shoves that part deep, deep down inside of
himself and pretends it doesn’texist. “At least it looked real,” Dean says with
a half-hearted smile, bringing an honest one to Cas’ lips.
     “True,” he offers with a smile, letting his legs hang down over the side.
They sit in silence for while, listening to the quiet of their little world and
pretending like nothing has changed between them. “But, you know,” Cas says
finally, clasping his hands between his knees. “I did enjoy kissing
you…physically of course, not in a way that would ruin our friendship, not
emotionally.” Cas’ words tumble out of him, seemingly landing with splashes
into the stream running beneath their feet. Dean’s face heats back up.
     “Yeah, Cas, I enjoyed kissing you, too,” Dean says, looking down to his
hands, praying that the moon isn’t giving enough light so that the blush on his
cheeks is exposed enough for Cas to see and to judge and to mock.
     “Well,” Cas says, his hands ringing nervously against his trousers. He is
still wearing his costume, Dean notices idly. “Maybe we could keep…enjoying
kissing each other?” His voice turns the suggestion up like a question, but
Dean’s eyes were already headed towards him. Dean’s hands begin to sweat on his
jeans.
     “You don’t think that would make things weird?” Dean asks, for the first
time in a while catching Cas’ eye.
     “No,” Cas says after a long moment of consideration. “I mean, you’re
already the person I’m closest to. You were the first friend I ever made. You
were the one who taught me to ride a bike. You were the first person I came out
to. I don’t really think anything could make what we have weird unless we chose
to let it.” Dean smiles at the memories Cas offers but wonders if he’s right.
Is it possible to have the kind of relationship they have and add sexual
endeavors to it without it changing into something ugly? “Never mind,” Cas says
quietly, reading Dean’s thoughts as he often does. “I mean, I may be queer, but
you’re straight. Not to mention you have that thing with Lisa. Never mind. I
shouldn’t have asked; I just really liked kissing you, and I thought maybe,”
but this time, Dean cuts Cas off.
     “Look, Cas,” Dean says, but Cas doesn’t. “Look at me, Cas,” Dean amends,
and this time, Cas’ blue eyes pull towards Dean. “I don’t think I’m one-hundred
percent straight.” Cas gives a small huff of laughter.
     “I hadn’t noticed,” Cas says, that rare sarcasm of his shining through.
"It was just supposed to be a stage kiss after all."
     “I know. Shut up,” Dean says with a grin before continuing, “And that
thing with Lisa is just a thing. It’s nothing really. Anyways, if we did decide
to do this, it would be purely physical, right?” Cas nods. “I get to keep you
as my best friend?” Cas nods again, his enthusiasm doubled at the idea of
losing Dean. “And this,” Dean waves a hand between the two of them. “This isn’t
going to make things weird?” Cas shakes his head.
     “It can be whatever you want it to be,” Cas says softly, and Dean smiles.
     “I’m a little bicurious, I’ll admit,” he tells Cas, that smile still on
his lips.
     “Well, I’m gay, so,” Cas says with a shrug, pulling a laugh out of Dean.
     “Thank God for that,” Dean mutters before pulling Cas to him by the lapels
of his costume and kissing him. The feeling is just as intense as before. Those
lips on his, driving him recklessly to a slow death. Cas’ tongue parts Dean’s
lips slowly, and when their tongues meet, Dean finds his hands worming into
Cas’ hair to pull him closer.
     “Wait,” Cas gasps, pulling away from Dean with lips already swollen and
eyes incredibly wild. Dean groans playfully and lets his head fall to where
Cas’ shoulder meets his neck. “We need boundaries.” Dean plants small kisses
against Cas, claiming the entirety of his body as his own. “Stop it, Dean, I’m
serious,” Cas says weakly, his nails scraping gently at the base of Dean’s
scalp.
     “Uh-huh, I’m listening,” Dean says, nosing behind Cas’ ear.
     “This is purely physical, right?” Cas asks, a bit breathless from Dean’s
invasive nosing. Dean makes an affirmative noise into Cas’ neck. Cas doesn’t
know Dean can hear the tiny puffs of air he lets out at each of Dean’s kisses.
“Okay, um, what is this exactly?” Cas asks after a moment of frazzled silence.
“Friends with benefits?”
     “If you want to label it, sure,” Dean offers, tugging on Cas’ hair
slightly because he doesn’t want to talk anymore; he wants to kiss Cas, and he
wants Cas to kiss him.
     “You’re clean, right?” Cas asks when Dean relents pulling on his hair.
     “I’ve always used condoms, so I would assume so,” Dean says softly,
pulling away to look at Cas. He’d have never imagined how delightful it would
be to just lean over and kiss him, but now that he’s realized, he does so and
revels in the tiny flip of his tummy. Cas smiles as Dean pulls away.
     “I’m still mostly a virgin, so we’re good there. We should probably still
use condoms, just in case.” Dean can see the wheels turning in Cas’ brain as he
goes down his mental checklist, but Dean has been smacked across the face by
the word 'virgin,' floored by the realization that sooner or later, Dean will
be expected to have sex with Cas. He pulls away a bit. “What?" Cas asks,
brushing gently at Dean's hair, taking in Dean's wide eyes with concern. "You
didn’t know I was a virgin? You’re my best friend. I’d tell you if I got laid.”
Dean barely hears him. “Dean, what is it?” Cas asks, bringing his hand back
around to Dean’s face. The touch startles him back to reality.
     “I, nothing, I just…I don’t really know what I’m doing here, Cas.” Dean
suddenly crumbles from the level of confidence he usually sits on into
practically nothing. He lets Cas see the vulnerability. He holds himself open,
he never having known before now just how terrifying trusting someone could be.
Cas runs his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, his brow pulled low over his eyes.
     “Hey,” he says softly, drawing his thumb across Dean’s face slowly. “We
don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Cas stares at Dean for a long
moment before a small smile finds its way to his lips. “Just being here with
you is enough for now,” and those words are enough to get Dean’s heart rate
skittering back to normal.
Chapter End Notes
          The play that Cas and Dean are preforming in the beginning is
     actually a fanfic idea of mine that will be my next project after
     this series! It will be a historical AU based off the life of
     Frederick William II of Prussia and the fact that he tried to run
     away with his best friend and suspected lover. It may not follow
     through, but let me know if you'd be interested in reading such a
     fic! (If I do go through with writing it, sorry about the spoilers
     from the play... It was unavoidable)
          I'd love to know what you all thought of the chapter!
***** Chapter 3 *****
     And so began their relationship, their twisted, beautiful, messy
relationship. They have always been Dean and Cas, Cas and Dean. Never would you
find one without the other, and never would you want to. Without Cas, Dean is
arrogant. He is reckless, and without Dean, Cas is blunt. He is heartless. They
round each other out. They soften the edges and sharpen the pudge. They level
each other. They better each other. They’ve been together all their lives,
since the beginning of creation, but never have they been together like this.
Sure, they’ve never been these sweating palms or these frantic lips, these
broken cries for more, but they’ve always needed each other. They’ve always
been everything the other ever needed, a best friend, a brother, a confident,
someone to beat at Call of Duty, but they've never known how much they needed
this until the sweating palms and the frantic lips becomes all that they have.
Dean needs Cas in his entirety, every damn blink, breath, and smile.
      Which is precisely why he’s freaking out. Dean's never before needed
someone to love, only someone to fuck, and here he is, thinking of Cas every
single moment.
      “Hey, Dean,” Sam calls, startling him out of these thoughts. He is
sitting at a picnic table in the yard of the high school. Dean’s head is still
spinning from all that that night was, and his dorky brother is jogging towards
him, a dopey grin on his face.
     “Sammy,” Dean says, smiling and waving to his little brother. Sam takes a
seat next to Dean on the bench.
     “Where’s Cas?” Sam asks, and Dean’s face heats before he can stop it.
     “How should I know?” Dean asks with a defensive shrug.
     “I don’t know. You’re always together. I just thought you might know,” Sam
says, reaching into his backpack and pulling out an apple.
     “Well, I don’t.” Dean left that night and has avoided Cas since. His
window has been locked for the past three nights, and Sam doesn’t know. Dean
fears that, should Sam find out his big brother was fooling around with a dude,
he would find him repulsive, find in himself the disappointment Dean has always
been accustomed to. “What do you need him for anyway?”
     “I wanted to thank him,” Sam says, that dopey grin coming back full force
around the chunk of apple in his mouth. “He said he’d put in a good word for me
with a girl he’s been tutoring, and last period she asked me to get a milkshake
with her after school.” Sam is practically giggling. Dean barks out a laugh.
     “You go, Sammy!” He cheers, reaching a hand out and rustling Sam’s shaggy
hair.
     “Dean,” he groans, leaning away from his older brother, cheeks heating.
After the blush subsides, he speaks again. “Would you mind driving us?”
     “Course not. So what’s her name?” Dean asks, still grinning at his
brother. Sam’s eyes brighten immediately.
     “Her name is Jessica, and she’s awesome.” Sam’s grin comes back, fully
doting now. Dean represses the urge to roll his eyes.
     “Hey, guys,” a voice says, coming up on and sitting across from Dean. Dean
goes rigid at the sound, his face heating as he remembers kissing him yet
again.
     “Cas,” Sam says excitedly, turning away from Dean to gush to Cas about his
new girlfriend. “Thank you so much for talking to Jessica! She wants to go out
for milkshakes later!” Cas lets out a laugh that makes Dean’s blush rise
higher.
     “That’s wonderful, Sam. I told her only the truth.” Sam grins at Cas a
moment longer before turning back to Dean, but his gaze goes right over him.
     “There she is,” he mutters, so Dean turns to follow the gaze of his baby
brother’s sights. What he sees is a willowy girl with long blonde curls and a
sweet smile aimed straight for Sam.
     “She’s looking at you, Casanova,” Dean mutters, elbowing Sam to get him to
stop staring. His baby brother’s eyes flash to his, slightly horrified, pulling
a laugh out of Dean. “Why don’t you ask her if she wants to come over here?”
Sam nods.
     “Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly and turning his eyes back to Jessica.
“Yeah, okay.” Then he stands and walks away. Dean watches him the whole time so
he doesn’t have to stare at Cas staring at him. When Sam turns back and motions
to them, Dean offers a slight wave. He doesn’t know that Cas does the same,
making them look even more couple-y than they already do. Jessica smiles and
puts a small wave up in response before following Sam over to where they are.
     “Hello, Jessica,” Cas says when she steps close enough. She smiles
nervously.
     “Hi,” she says before glancing to Sam. He is looking back to her, as red
as Dean has ever seen him. Dean barks out a laugh, and both sets of eyes cut to
him, Sam horrified and Jess curious.
     “Hey, I’m Dean, Sammy here’s big brother,” he says, seeing that Sam is
clearly too nervous to make introductions himself. Jessica smiles again and
shakes Dean’s hand gently. “You must be the infamous Jessica. I’ve heard a lot
about you,” he says, even though he hasn’t. Sam looks appropriately
traumatized.
     “Same goes for you,” Jessica says with a deep flush on her face.
     “Uh, you wanna sit?” Sam asks shakily, but Jessica just smiles and nods,
taking a seat on the end of Dean’s bench, leaving room for Sam between them. He
takes his seat dutifully and silence falls around them. Dean can practically
feel Sam panicking.
     “So, Jessica,” he says, leaning around his baby brother, giving him
another elbow to the ribs in the process. "You come here often?" he asks
teasingly, and despite the fact that it wasn’t his best line, she pushes out a
startled laugh before it becomes less forced. He winks at Sam when he looks
over gratefully. The conversation comes back to life, Sammy and Jessica talking
and giggling, Dean and Cas avoiding looking at each other. Lunch is in full
swing by the time a touch against Dean’s back startles him out of actively
ignoring Cas. Dean turns to see Lisa’s smiling face looking down to him.
     “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning down and pecking his lips. His cheeks burn,
and for the first time in a while, he cuts his eyes to Cas. Cas is looking
away.
     “Hi, Lisa,” Dean pushes out, moving where Lisa puts him as she takes a
seat in his lap. His hands automatically come up to circle her waist.
     “What’s going on?” she asks cheerfully, wrapping a loose arm around Dean’s
shoulders and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Dean’s mind
flashes back to Cas’ fingers tugging his hair, forcing him this way and that.
Heat rises beneath her palm.
     “Uh, nothing much. This is Sam’s friend, Jessica,” Dean eventually says,
and motions to Jessica. The two girls smile and exchange hellos. Jessica turns
back to Sam, and Lisa soon enough turns back to Dean. He doesn’t know what to
say.
     “So, I tried calling you,” Lisa says instead, her voice quiet so it’s
clear the conversation is just between the two of them. Lisa had tried calling
him, but it was after the play, and he was otherwise occupied. He felt too
weird later to think about calling her back.
     “Yeah, sorry, I was with Cas,” he murmurs, feeling the ghost of Cas’
strong hands on him instead of her dainty fingers currently brushing over his
cheeks.
     “Oh, speaking of which,” Lisa says, raising her voice a little and turning
to Cas. “I don’t appreciate you stealing my boyfriend,” she says, and Dean’s
eyes snap to Cas, feeling sure the horrified look he sees there is reflected in
his own face. Even Sam and Jess are looking over now, knowing and sadistic
smiles growing on their faces. Oh shit, he thinks, panic rising around him.
Shit, shit, shit. They know. It's over. I'm outed. Sam's gonna hate me, and Cas
is never going to talk to me again because ifI'm out then so is he, but Dean,
beneath the terror and panic, is confused. He looks to Lisa, only to find her
smiling. “The play?” she says, reaching out and putting a hand on Cas’ arm,
drawing his eyes from Dean’s to hers.
     “Oh,” Cas says, obvious relief in his voice. She laughs.
     “What did you think I meant?” she asks, drawing her hand back and resting
it once again on Dean’s arm. Cas smiles a bit.
     “I couldn’t think of a thing,” he says easily, as though there were
anything easy about this. Dean feels a laugh shake through Lisa.
     “Well, you did a wonderful job. I saw it at school the day before, and I
thought it was good. But when I watched it the next night, I cried like a baby
even though I knew what happened. It was so, so moving. Oh, I was devastated.”
Dean looks back to Cas because even though it’s weird between them right now,
he still wants to watch his best friend receive the recognition he deserves.
Cas doesn’t look as though he’s enjoying it like he should be.
     “Thank you,” Cas murmurs, smiling to her before looking back down to his
hands. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
     “Enjoyed it? God, I was shattered, absolutely miserable!" Lisa smiles
again, before turning to Dean, eyes wide. “Oh crap. Speaking of miserable, I
have to go. I have a test I have to finish. Hey, do you want to come over after
school?” Her fingers are still brushing through his hair, and he really loves
that, so he can't help but tell her yes.
     “Wait, you said you’d drive me and Jess,” Sam says, looking away from the
girl he just unconsciously nicknamed to stare at his brother. Dean knows from
the blush on Jessica’s cheeks that she noticed.
     “Oh, that’s fine, babe,” Lisa says and kisses Dean quickly before
standing, her hand still on Dean’s shoulder. “I'll just come with you,” she
says, winking and walking away.
     “I should probably get going too,” Jessica says, reaching for her bag and
standing. “My next class is all the way across campus. It was nice meeting you,
Dean. Bye, Castiel. Bye, Sam,” she says, and offers Dean’s baby brother a shy
smile before walking away.
     “If she’s leaving, I’m leaving,” Sam says, and before Dean can beg him not
to go, not to leave him alone with Cas, he’s standing and pulling on his
backpack. “Hey, by the way, can you give me the money to pay for me and Jess? I
don’t want her to think I’m broke.”
     “You are broke,” Dean says with a snort.
     “Yeah, but you’re not,” he tosses before running after Jessica yelling,
“Wait, hold on. I’ll walk you.”
     “'A part-time job at Ellen's and one summer mowing yards does not mean I'm
rich,” Dean mutters with a scoff. Then he realizes that he is alone with Cas.
Any further comments die on his tongue. So Cas and Dean are alone, and Dean
doesn’t know what to say.
     “Dean,” Cas says with sigh. “Are you okay?”
     “Yeah,” Dean says immediately with a snort. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
     “I don’t know...maybe because the last time I saw you, I had my tongue
down your throat.”
     “Jesus, Cas, talk a little louder, would you?!” Dean spits, looking around
to the bustling students around them. None of them spare them a glance apart
from their own little worlds.
     “Dean,” Cas sighs, leaning forward and trying to catch Dean’s eye. Dean
doesn’t say anything, just stares at his clasped hands before him. The silence
stretches into oblivion around them, and before he knows it, Dean is drowning
in it. There has never been an awkward silence between Cas and Dean. Cas, the
epitome of awkward, has never once in his entire twelve-year friendship with
Dean caused an awkward moment, but now…now, they sit in silence. Dean cannot
think of a single solitary thing he wants to say to the person he never tires
of talking to.
     Finally, the bell rings.
     “I’ll see you later,” Dean murmurs, standing to leave his best friend
sitting there alone.
     “Your window was locked,” Cas calls, freezing Dean. There have been only
two times when the window separating his world and Cas’ has been locked. Once,
before that first night, the very first one, and now. Dean turns around slowly,
his eyes sliding to Cas. Cas looks hurt. He looks like someone set an
earthquake on his entire world then burned the rubble just for fun. “Are you
mad at me?” Dean sits back in front of Cas, his eyes wide.
     “What? No, no. Of course not.”
     “Then was it…us? Because if it was, we can forget it. We can forget it
ever happened, and go back to just being us, the normal us.” Cas looks wrecked.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
     “No,” Dean says firmly. “I just…I'm freaking out, Cas. I’ve never…you
know…kissed a guy before. I don’t know, man.”
     “Dean,” Cas says gently, still leaning forward on his elbows and staring
at Dean. He’s so close that Dean can’t help it when his eyes flash down to Cas’
lips. “I don’t want you to feel weird about it. We’re two consenting adults who
just kissed. If you want to do more than that, fine, great. You’re hot as hell,
and I won’t say I haven’t thought about it. But if you don’t, we won’t. I don’t
want you to stop talking to me just because we made out. I don't want to lose
my best friend." Dean doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but he holds Cas’
eyes to show that he doesn’t want to stop talking, that he doesn’t want to lose
his best friend either.
     “I think it might be best if that, us kissing, was a onetime thing,” Dean
says eventually, scared that Cas will be mad.
     “Okay,” Cas says with a smile, putting Dean's worries at ease. "If that’s
what you want, then that’s what I want.” Dean grins at his best friend, a huge
weight lifted off his shoulders and a horrible ache unfurling in his gut. The
silence they sit in is no longer awkward. It is simply the silence of two
people who have spent their entire lives together, who don’t need words to
talk. After a moment or two though, Dean decides he wants to talk.
     “You think I’m hot as hell?” he asks, to which Cas groans, grins, stands,
and begins to walk away. Dean jumps up laughing and walks with him to class.
     When they meet back up at the end of the day, Cas is leaned against the
side of Dean’s car, his shirt rising slightly with his lean.
     “Hey, gorgeous,” Dean calls, watching with amusement as Cas cracks open a
confused eye.
     “Hello, Dean.”
     “No, not you. I was talking to her,” he replies, running his hand over his
car’s glossy, black finish. Cas snorts.
     “Do you want me to leave you two alone? Cause I can leave,” Cas pushes
himself off and mocks the start of walking away.
     "Awe, don't listen to him, Baby. He just doesn't understand us," Dean
croons, leaning close to his car, watching the sway of Cas' ass as he walks
away. “Hey, wait,” Dean calls finally with a laugh, so Cas does, as he always
does. “What’s up, buddy?”
     “Nothing, I'm just making sure we’re still on for Game of Thrones
tonight?”
     “Ah,” Dean groans, bringing a hand to his head. “I can’t. I told Sam I’d
drive him to get milkshakes with Jessica, remember?”
     “It doesn’t come on until 8,” Cas says with a smile. “Do you think an ice
cream date will last five hours?”
     “No, but Lisa’s coming. I figure she’ll want to hang out after,” Dean says
with a shrug. Cas smiles, but Dean doesn’t like the look of it.
     “Yeah, okay. No problem,” he says, and pushes himself off Dean’s car for
real.
     “Why don’t you record it, and we can watch it tomorrow?” Dean offers
because he does not like the sight of Cas walking away from him, not in the
least.
     “Sure,” Cas says, but continues on his walk away.
     “See you later,” Dean calls, one last attempt to make him stop, but Cas
doesn’t answer with anything more than throwing a hand up in a half-assed wave.
Just as Cas disappears around the corner, Sam and Jessica burst into Dean’s
line of sight, talking and giggling to one another. Dean will have so much fun
teasing Sam about this later, but for now, he forces a smile and unlocks the
doors so they can crawl inside. Lisa comes out a few moments later, offering
Dean a smile and kiss before climbing in and setting them off on their double
date.
     He takes them to Ellen's because Ellen's is homey and familiar, and Ellen
is a gem and one of his mother's oldest friends. Sam orders himself and Jess
milkshakes to share and drink them in a tiny booth that is very clearly not
welcoming of Dean and Lisa. Instead, Dean and Lisa take their respective pie
slices across the diner, taking turns speaking around the dessert.
     “Hey,” she says once the pie between them is gone. “Cas was being really
weird all day. Is he okay?”
     “Cas?” Dean asks, licking his fork clean of any filling. “What do you
mean?”
     “Well, he was spaced out all day long. In calculus, Mr. Singer called on
him, and I don’t think he even knew what class he was in.” Dean shrugs.
     “Calculus is boring.”
     “Not that you would know, Mr. Senior Still In Pre-Algebra,” Lisa ribs with
a smile.
     “Ouch. That hurt, Lis. And anyway, Bobby is like family. I know how boring
he gets.” John's best friend Bobby has been there for them through all he
could, buying them school clothes, attending anything and everything, baking
birthday cakes. He is the father figure they spent their lives trying to sober
out of their actual dad. Bobby is a blessing, but calculus is boring as fuck,
and there's not much anyone can do about it.
     “Do you think Cas is okay?” She asks, bring him slowly back to reality.
     “I don’t know. It’s probably his mom or something. He hasn’t said anything
to me.”
     “Maybe it’s you,” Lisa suggests softly, her eyes on her fingers. Dean
almost swallows the fork between his lips.
     “What?” he chokes, incredulous and hot faced.
     “I’m just saying, Dean. That kiss looked pretty real.”
     “It was a play. We were acting. It was supposed to look real.”
     “Calm down, Dean. I’m just saying.”
     “Yeah, you’ve been doing a lot of that.” Dean is angry. His mouth is
sticky, his pride is hurt, and he feels like Lisa is accusing him instead of
Cas. Lisa’s brow furrows together.
     “I don’t know why you’re getting angry. I just think he might have
feelings for you.”
     “He definitely does not have feelings for me.”
     “How do you know? Why is that so unbelievable?”
     “Because! Because he’s straight, first of all,” Dean sputters, because,
just because Cas is out to Dean doesn’t mean he’s out to everyone and telling
anyone around here might as well be tattooing it on Cas' forehead for everyone
to see, including Cas’ mom. Lisa rolls her eyes.
     “Please. He’s president of the GSA. He is the gay of the gay-straight
alliance. It doesn’t matter that he’s gay. Everyone already suspects it.”
     “His mother doesn’t, and she can’t.” Dean sighs and stands. “You want a
coffee?” he asks, and she nods. He leaves the booth immediately. "Two coffees
please. Oh, and could you grab Ellen for me?" he asks the guy behind the
counter. He says nothing, instead pours the coffees and disappears into the
back to get Ellen. She comes out almost immediately, a grin spread across her
lips.
     "Dean Winchester," she croons, opening her arms and leaning across the
counter to hug him. He smiles into her shoulder as he hugs her back. "Must be
my lucky day seeing you twice in one week. Where's Cas? Is Sam here?" She pulls
away and looks around her diner, spotting Sam and Jess with smile.
     "That's his date Jessica," Dean says, following her gaze and silently
thanking her for not pushing the Cas situation. He'd almost gone a full two
minutes without thinking about him.
     "You boys are just growing up so fast," she says, a sad look in her eyes
as she brings her hand up against his face. "Your mom would be so proud."
     "Thanks, Ellen," he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing her forehead.
"Anyway, I should probably get back to my date. I just wanted to say hi." he
says, raising the cups towards Lisa who is sitting at the booth on her phone.
Ellen snorts.
     "She looks concerned about your absence," she says sarcastically, and Dean
grins. Ellen has never liked Lisa, or any of his girlfriends for that matter.
He has a sneaking suspicion that happens to be because of the crush her
daughter not-so-secretly has on him.
     "Tell Jo I said hello, will you?" he requests with a grin as he walks
away.
     "I need you to work Tuesday," she calls, to which he brings the back of
his hands to his ears, covering them as much as he can manage.
     "La la la la la I can't hear you," he sings, hoping she can hear the smile
in his voice. She rolls her eyes and retreats into the kitchen. “Did you hear
that Stacy slept with Ryan?” Dean asks when he sits back down and hands Lisa
her coffee. He does not give a rat’s ass about who Stacy is sleeping with, but
he does care who Cas is sleeping with, and he knows that if he doesn't start a
new topic now, she'll want to talk about it. Dean does not want to talk about
it.
     “Dean,” Lisa says, her mom voice in full swing. “We need to talk about
this.” Dean leans back and sighs.
     “Why are Cas’ feelings so important to you?”
     “Why aren’t they to you? He’s your best friend,” she counters, mirroring
his leaning back and adding a glare.
     “His feelings are important to me, and yes, I know he’s my best friend.
He’s been my best friend since I could say my alphabet. I just don’t care if he
likes guys!”
     “I don’t care if he likes guys either. I care if he likes you.” Dean takes
a big drink of his coffee, praying that she thinks it’s the steam or the fight
that has his cheeks flushed.
     “Well, he doesn’t,” he says, and he really believes it. Then, thank God,
Lisa lets it drop, the silence that then ensues nothing like the silence he
shares with Cas. Instead, it is waiting for anger to break, waiting for the
other shoe to drop, waiting and waiting and waiting, and Dean can’t stand it.
“Well, I for one, want to go home and have sex with you.” Lisa rolls her eyes.
Dean looks over to his baby brother and his date. They are talking, a smile on
each of their faces.
     “They’re having so much fun," she points out, following his train of
thought. "We can’t just go home.”
     “Yeah, but we can still get out of here,” Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows
suggestively. Lisa rolls her eyes, but stands to leave. “Hey, Sammy. We’re
gonna take a drive. Call me when you get ready to go,” Dean tells Sam,
shrugging into his jacket and receiving no response from his little brother.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Sam Winchester wears make up.” Sam laughs at something
Jessica says. “Sam Winchester cries his way through sex.” No response. “Sam
Winchester keeps a ruler by his bed, and every morning when he wakes up he—”
     “Goodbye, Dean,” Sam says pointedly, and Dean chuckles his way out of the
door. He then slides into his beautiful car next to his beautiful lady, all the
while definitely notthinking about how great it would feel to be cuddled up
next to Cas getting ready to watch Game of Thrones.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Smut shall ensue!
     “Dean,” Lisa moans, her bare chest pressed snugly down Dean’s. They are in
the car on some dirt-paved side road. Dean’s hands are heavy on her, dragging
over her hips, her ass, her breasts. He is trying to enjoy the curves instead
of wish they weren’t there. He is trying to enjoy that she smells like perfume
instead of cologne. He is trying to enjoy that she is Lisa instead of Cas. It’s
not working so well, and she can tell. She grinds down hard on Dean, his pants
still zipped and comfortable. “I want you so fucking bad,” she moans, running
her hands through Dean’s hair, pulling him this way and that. Control and dirty
talk. Two of Dean’s favorite things, but still, when he looks up and sees brown
eyes instead of blue, he knows he’s fucked. And not in the fun way.
     “Lisa,” he says, and the tone is enough to bring her grinding to a stop.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
     “What? Why?” she asks, leaning back so that they are no longer pressed
together.
     “I don’t know,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. He feels like a
failure. One make-out session with a guy and now he can’t get it up for his
fucking hot girlfriend. Thanks a lot, Cas. Dean watches as Lisa moves off of
him and begins to put her bra back, disappoint set firmly into her motions.
     “Was it me? I know I gained three pounds, but,” she starts, watching him
sadly with her hands in her lap. Dean cuts her off.
     “No, no. You’re perfect,” he tells her, taking her hand in his and
bringing it to his lips. “I think I’m just too stressed.”
     “Sex is a great stress reliever,” she says, leaning forward and catching
her lips between Dean’s. Even that feels wrong.
     “I know,” he says, pulling away softly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with
me,” but he does. CastielFucking Milton is what’s wrong with me,he thinks
viciously, lifting his shirt violently off the ground and pulling it on. Lisa
pouts for a moment before resuming getting dressed and crawling back up front
to go get Sam. When they get back to Ellen’s, they find the lovebirds still
curled into that little booth, talking like they haven’t known each other since
preschool.
     “Hey, Sammy,” he says, stepping forward because he doesn’t want to play
games anymore. “Are you two ready to go?”
     “Awe, Dean,” Sammy says, throwing on his big puppy dog eyes. “Do we have
to?”
     “Yeah, Dad’ll be home soon. We don’t want him worrying about you.”
     “Not like he’d notice anyway,” Sam mumbles before glancing back to
Jessica. “Could Jess come over for a little bit?” Dean shrugs nonchalantly,
mentally cheering because his brother actuallyhas a pair.
     “It’s cool with me if it’s cool with her parents,” he says, taking Lisa’s
hand into his with an absent smile in her direction.
     “Actually,” Jess says, and Sam’s eyes snap back to her. “My mom said I had
to be home by dinner.” Upon seeing Sam’s disappointment, she adds a soft
apology.
     “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll take both of you beautiful ladies home,” Dean offers
when Sam says nothing. “See you, Ellen,” he calls, bringing his free hand up in
a wave in her direction.
     “Bye, boys. You be careful out on that road, you hear me, Dean
Winchester?” she calls, her hands on her hips next to her customer.
     “Yes ma’am,” Dean says with a smile, opening the door for Lisa.
     “Bye, Ellen,” Sam calls with a wave. She waves back, and the door shuts
after the four of them as they make their way to the Impala. Dean drops Lisa
off first with a quick kiss and a promise to call later. When they get to
Jessica’s house, he hopes he doesn’t have to yell at Sam to get out of the car
and walk her to the door, and his baby brother doesn’t disappoint. He sits
watching them—yeah, okay, whatever, it’s his baby brother—as they say goodbye;
he’s just about to turn away when he catches sight off Jess leaning in and
planting one right on his brother’s dweebish cheek. He has to clamp his mouth
shut to keep from cheering. When Sam comes back to the car, he is beaming
brighter than anything he’s ever seen, and it spreads to Dean, even through all
of his performance issues and identity crises.
     “Sammy’s in love, Sammy’s in love,” Dean sings the whole ride home, but
Sam can’t be bothered. He still has a sticky, glossy lip print on his cheek.
     When Dean gets home, he drops Sammy off and goes straight to Cas. He
doesn’t bother with the front door, instead, heading for the window. He doesn’t
bother knocking either, instead slipping his fingers into the crack Cas always
leaves open just for him. He slides through the window with a lithe grace,
landing next to Cas’ bed with a soft thud. Cas looks up from the book between
his hands, eyes shining.
     “Dean,” he breathes, marking his place in his book and setting it to the
side. “I thought you were with Lisa,” he says, and sits up as Dean sits down
beside him.
     “I was,” Dean says with a shrug. “Then I wanted to watch TV with you.” Cas
gives him a grateful smile.
     “Do you want to watchCriminal Minds?” he asks hesitantly. Dean smiles, and
they watchCriminal Mindsshoulder to shoulder until time for Game of Thrones and
then they watch that in much of the same way. When the TV leaves the room
around them flickering with credits, they sit in silence. “Wow,” Cas says,
referring to the end of the episode as he flicks the TV off.
     “I want to kiss you,” Dean says, referring to the absolute control it took
to keep from leaning over and kissing him right then and there.
     “What?” Cas says, turning and staring at Dean in the darkness.
     “I was wrong…what I said at lunch. I so don’twant to keep us kissing a
onetime thing." Dean blinks, trying to clear Cas’ face in the darkness so he
can tell if he totally overstepped his boundaries.
     “But you said you wanted it to be a onetime thing,” Cas sputters. Dean
wants nothing more than to lean forward and take Cas’ lips between his.
     “I know what I said. I really believed it too. Then me and Lisa started
getting at it, and it...it just wasn’t working. I couldn’t get it up for her,
and she was saying all this stuff about how real the kiss looked and how she
thought you might have feelings for me, and I just…”
     “Do youhave feelings for me, Dean?” Cas asks, leaning away from Dean with
wide and startled eyes.
     “I,” he starts but silences upon seeing the horrified look on Cas’ face.
“No. I just think you’re ‘hot as hell’, and that you’re a really good kisser,”
Dean offers with a shrug. Cas rolls his eyes, half a grin on his face. “So…I
can kiss you?”
     “Yes, Dean. You can kiss me,” Cas says, and in the time it takes for Dean
to grin and lean in, Cas has already closed his eyes. When their lips meet, it
is hot and heavy and everything they need. Dean gets it up for Cas with just a
little kissing and a little necking and a little rubbing. Of course, Cas’
hushed whimpers only add to the situation.
     Dean pulls away from Cas just long enough to reach down and free himself
from the unbearable pressure of his jeans. Cas takes advantage of the moment to
climb in Dean’s lap, his knees strattling him and his hands running through his
hair.
     “Is this alright?” Cas whispers, pulling away to kiss at Dean’s jaw. Dean
shows his assent by bringing his hips up to meet Cas’, earning himself a groan
against his mouth. Dean brings his hips up again, holding tight to Cas’ waist,
barely able to think through Cas grinding down on him. “Fuck,” Cas growls,
nipping at Dean’s neck and soothing over the mark with his tongue. Dean lays
Cas back against the bed, cherishing the moment of wild, virginal excitement
Cas shows before Dean is smashing his lips back against Cas', hands pulling
insistently at his shirt until eventually, it winds up on the floor with Dean’s
following close behind. They both gasp at the heat of the other against their
skin.
     “Shit,” Dean hisses, twining his fingers through Cas’ and pinning his
hands high above his head. Cas eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated as he takes
in every move Dean makes for him. Dean watches those eyes as he mouths along
Cas’ jaw, nips against his earlobe, sucks on his neck. He watches those eyes
for every moment he can, and if he weren’t already rock hard and ready to roll,
the look alone that Cas is giving him would be enough. He drops his eyes as he
drops his tongue into the hollow at the base of Cas’ throat. Dean hears Cas
audibly swallow, and the sound is so appealing that Dean cannot help but move
to plant a kiss against Cas’ Adam’s apple while squeezing Cas’ fingers just as
tightly as he’s squeezing Dean’s.
     Dean continues his trail downward, stopping to lock eyes with Cas once
again before he flicks his tongue out against Cas’ nipple. Cas hisses in
response, so Dean takes the flesh between his teeth and sucks until he knows
Cas is probably raw, then he laps at it again and again with his tongue to
soothe it. Dean then decides that is low enough and begins his ascent back to
Cas’ mouth, but apparently Cas has other ideas, rolling them easily and landing
back astride Dean. Dean’s hands hook behind Cas’ knees, lining up their dicks
so that his every thrust up meets Cas’ grind down perfectly. They writhe
against each other for a long while, until Cas’ breathing gets ragged and
Dean’s jeans become too fucking much, even unzipped.
     “Cas,” Dean gasps, bringing their slow friction to a grinding halt. “I’m
gonna come in my pants if we keep this up.” Dean knows he probably looks a bit
pathetic, but when Cas leans down to kiss him, pulling gently at his bottom lip
as he sits away, Dean realizes that he is full out begging.
     He’s not even ashamed.
     Cas dismounts Dean long enough to shimmy out of his sweat pants and
boxers, allowing Dean a moment to do the same before climbing back up,
eliciting a broken sob from Dean when he takes both of them in hand. Dean
squeezes his eyes shut and tries uselessly to buck up into Cas’ hand, bringing
one of his own to wrap around Cas’ and bridge the gap between palm and fingers.
     Cas’ grip is tight and slow, agonizing, really. He keeps Dean from moving
with weight of his body, the touch of his hand. After what feels like an
eternity of glorious, agonizing jerking, Cas picks up the pace a bit, rocking
his hips against Dean’s with a slight grunt every time. Cas’ rhythm is soon
stuttering out, giving way to frantic, erratic thrusts and jerks, and with the
added friction of Cas’ cock rubbing against Dean’s—not to mention the sounds
Cas is making, holy hell—Dean isn’t foolish enough to think that he’ll last
much longer.
     Dean’s whole world is spining. It’s too much, it’s never enough, and Dean
opens his eyes because he wants to see Cas when he comes. He needs to see Cas.
It takes a moment of watching Cas, of seeing him come undone by Dean’s hand to
push him over the edge. He comes in hot spurts on his stomach, on his and Cas’
joined hands, and a few seconds later, Cas is coming too, rubbing his dick
against Dean’s to draw the last drop of come out of both of them.
     “Fuh-huh-huck,” Dean whines, when Cas finally lets him go and rolls off,
nuzzling close beneath his arm. If Dean weren’t so drained, he would snort
because of courseCas is a cuddler. The nerd. The moment lasts for a small
eternity, Cas curled perfectly against Dean’s side like he doesn’t belong
anywhere else and Dean holding him tight like he wouldn’t allow him to be
anywhere else anyway. Dean reaches over and takes a handful of tissues and
wipes his stomach off, offering some to Cas to clean his hands before tossing
them in the garbage can by Cas’ bed for later disposal. Then, he pulls Cas
tight to him again and pretends the rapid cadence of his heart is just from the
sex.
     The next morning hits Dean like a bag of bricks, but instead of pretending
the pain doesn’t exist, he faces it head on. He is eager to see Cas, so much so
that after crawling back into his own window, he only showers and catches a
couple hours of sleep before heading back over to Cas’ house with Sam half
asleep in the back seat.
     “Hey,” he says, pulling up to the curb where Cas is walking, his backpack
bouncing between his shoulders. “Need a ride?”
     “I don’t know. Are you a stalker?” he asks, a grin he’s trying hard to
hide staining his lips.
     “I do crawl into your window occasionally,” Dean allows with a shrug. Cas
grins and climbs in, sitting closer on the front bench than strictly necessary.
Not that Dean minds. He’s been thinking about being close to Cas ever since
last night. “So, where to, sir?” Dean asks teasingly, but Cas only rolls his
eyes.
     “The stars,” he says, to which Dean grins and drives off. When they get to
the school, Sam perks up when he sees Jess walking alone to her locker.
     “Later, Dean,” he calls, jumping out and running after her. Dean watches
him catch her with a small grin to match Jessica’s large one. Dean likes this
girl for Sam. Dean also knows that when he gets out of the car, he begins
strutting about like a dude who got laid last night, the joke being that no one
knows it was Cas instead of Lisa.
     “I’ll see you later,” Cas says, stepping out and heading towards the
doors.
     “Hey, wait. Where are you going?” Dean asks, stepping after Cas, pocketing
his keys and pulling his jacket closer around him.
     “My locker,” Cas says, raising it like a question.
     “I’ll come with you. I need to get a few things out of mine anyway.”
     “Do you even remember your combination?” Cas asks with an incredulous
scoff. Dean shrugs.
     “Maybe…no. Do you?”
     “Yes, Dean,” Cas says with a fond smile, and together they walk to their
lockers, laughing about a joke Dean told to get Cas to smile. So what if Dean’s
completely gone on his best friend? It's fine. Cas isn’t interested. He’s made
that very clear. If having the occasional sex with him will be all that he
gets, Dean’s okay with that...just as long as he gets to keep Cas as his best
friend.
     As it turns out though, the sex isn’t just occasional. In fact, that very
night, he’s back at Cas’ house, kissing and sucking and devouring. The next
night is the same issue. He and Lisa grow farther and farther apart. He still
forces himself to sleep with her if only to convince everyone else he's not in
love with his best friend, but every time he kisses her, he feels as though he
should be feeling stubble. It even gets to the point where right as that forced
relief washes over Dean, he accidentally moans Cas’ name. That sure made Lisa
mad, even after Dean swore he was just saying ‘ass.’ Even now, as they sit
together at the lunch table, she will hardly meet Dean’s eyes.
     Sam is chattering happily away at his girlfriend—the punk finally got the
nerve to ask Jess to be his girlfriend—and Cas is sitting peacefully reading a
book. It has been nearly a month since they started this best-friends-by-day,
sex-partners-by-night endeavor, and Dean has never been happier or more
confused in his life. Dean is watching Cas, and when he comes to the end of his
book, he looks up, confused as though he didn’t realize he was in reality
instead of the fictional land his book sent him to.
     “You finish that one?” Dean asks, and Lisa glances at him because he
doesn’t care about books. He never has before.
     “Yes. It was very intriguing,” Cas says with a smile and a nod. He doesn’t
look at the beautiful brunette giving him death stares because she isn’t dumb.
She knows that Cas is stealing her boyfriend from her despite all that Dean
swears he doesn’t have feelings for him, and she doesn’t like it one bit. She’s
sure, but she’s not sure enough about Dean’s feelings to call him out on it.
     “Do you want another one? We could go to the library? I need another
Vonnegut anyways,” Dean says with a shrug. He really did finish Cat’s Cradle.
He really does want to get Cas alone in a closet and suck his cock down his
throat.
     “Okay,” Cas says, putting the used book in his bag, completely oblivious
to the fact that Dean is mentally tearing his clothes off. The thought alone
makes him exceedingly hot.
     “I’ll go too,” Lisa says, pulling her purse higher on her arm and standing
with Dean. His smile deflates.
     “You don’t have to do that, Lis. I’ll just see you later?” he asks, and
leans forward to kiss her cheek.
     “It's fine; I want to go. I need a new book too,” she says and pulls a
pair of sun glasses out of her bag and puts them on.
     “Okay,” Dean murmurs, and walks between his two fuck buddies to the
library. When they get there, Cas immediately tears off for the historical
fiction section, but Lisa is sticking to Dean like white on rice. “Uh,” he
starts, detaching his arm from her vise-like grip. “I’m gonna go hit the head,”
he mutters, and leaves the library. He really does go to the bathroom, but as
soon as he checks that there is no one else in any of the stalls, he locks the
door and pulls out his phone.
     “Bathroom by library. Knock once,” he types and sends it to Cas. He stares
himself in the mirror. All the things his father said to him about gays, about
people just like him, just like Cas, rush at his reflection. Disgusting,
unnatural problem. He blinks. Dean doesn’t think that Cas is bad. Dean thinks
that Cas is everything good in the world. Dean? Dean might be all those things,
but Cas isn’t.
     “Dean,” Cas hisses, his knuckles rapping on the door once. Dean steps away
from the mirror and unlocks the door for Cas and locks it back as he steps
through. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning to Dean with wide, concerned eyes.
Dean steps closer and traps Cas’ face between his hands, pulling him roughly to
him in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Cas gasps, but Dean takes the opportunity
to slide his tongue into Cas’ mouth. “Dean,” Cas gasps again, reeling away and
wrapping his fingers into Dean’s hair. Dean is sucking away at Cas’ neck,
mouthing at his collarbones and licking against the sweet spot behind his ear.
     “Shh,” Dean soothes, nipping against the strain in Cas’ neck then licking
over it with his tongue. “We don’t have much time.” With that, Dean begins to
palm at Cas’ crotch, drawing a groan out of him. Soon enough, he is dropping to
his knees and tugging Cas’ jeans around his ankles.
     “Jesus Christ,” Cas groans when Dean licks a stripe along the underside of
his dick and stops to suck at the head. Dean hums in agreement, drawing another
groan out of Cas. They discovered Dean’s little affinity for sucking cock a few
days ago, and since then, that’s all Dean has wanted to do. Every time he and
Cas are alone, he is on his knees. Every time he is alone, he is fantasizing
about being on his knees with Cas. Dean thinks he might have a problem, but
it’s just so fucking hot. Seeing Cas come apart with his cock down Dean's
throat...it’s the biggest gratification Dean’s ever gotten. Dean likes knowing
he’s making who he’s with happy, especially when it's Cas and he enjoys what
he’s doing so much.
     Dean knows Cas likes it dirty. He likes the sloppy sounds and the spit all
over Dean’s face and the occasional fingering. Today though, he is practically
doing all the work for Dean. He has both hands threaded through his hair and is
groaning, fucking up into Dean’s mouth. Dean lets Cas do what he wants, keeping
the pressure tight and his tongue working even as he unzips his own pants and
takes his dick into his hand. Dean moans around Cas’ cock, and Cas lets out a
groan like sin. He’s close, so Dean releases his own dick with a slight whimper
and takes Cas’ hips into his hands, stilling his thrusting immediately. Cas
whimpers.
     “Dean,” he whines, and Dean has half a mind to bend him over and fuck him
right here and now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slows his pace to an
agonizingly slow speed, watching Cas come undone before him. He can feel him
writhing in his grip, but he is no match for Dean’s strength. Cas’ lithe frame
is nothing compared to Dean’s body with four years of powerlifting behind him.
“Dean,” Cas practically screeches when he comes to a complete stop, his tongue
just lapping gently at Cas’ head. “Fucking move,” he hisses, his fingers
pulling at Dean’s hair. Dean hums around his cock before taking him down to the
base again and again, holding him with Cas’ head down his throat as he comes.
When Dean feels Cas begin to wilt in the back of his throat, he pulls off with
a pop, wringing the last bit of come from him and earning himself a whimper.
“Goddamn,” Cas mutters, sinking against the wall, his face sated and exhausted.
Dean grins and starts fisting his cock, still looking up at Cas. “Just what the
hell do you think you’re doing?” Cas asks, watching lazily as Dean jerks
himself.
     “I don’t wanna wait for it to go down,” he manages to grind out around the
ecstasy of flesh on flesh.
     “Let me help,” Cas offers, sliding down to his knees and fisting Dean
properly, tugging him low and tight with the occasional twist of the wrist and
swipe of thumb over his head. Dean groans, pulling Cas closer and kissing him
hot and heavy again. He’s sure that Cas can taste his own come in Dean’s mouth,
and the thought makes the heat in his stomach coil tighter.
     “Fuck, Cas,” he groans, arching up into him and biting down on his neck.
“Talk to me. I need you to talk to me,” he grunts, hissing as Cas swipes his
thumb around Dean’s head again.
     “You’re so fucking hot,” Cas mutters, his breath hot against Dean’s ear
and neck. “You like me fisting your hard cock don’t you? You couldn’t even wait
until we got home. You’re such a little cock slut. Did you like sucking my
dick? Did you like the taste of my come in your mouth? I know you did.” Cas
scoots closer, taking Dean’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbling slightly. “You
love this, don’t you? Fucking around in the school bathroom…” Dean is so
fucking close. Cas speeds up as though he could feel it too. “Anyone could just
walk in and see you with my dick in your mouth. Then everyone would know you’re
fucking mine,” and just like that, Dean is coming all over Cas’ hand, covering
him in hot spurts and groans that taste like sex. Dean kisses Cas’ opened
mouth, panting against his lips and seeking tongue, and when he pulls away, he
rests his forehead on Cas’ shoulder and just breathes. They sit in silence for
a long moment, their heartbeats slowly returning to normal.
     “We should clean up,” Cas says after a while, and Dean nods blearily,
nearly falling over when Cas moves from under him and steps to the sink.
     “Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans with a grin, tucking his dick back into his pants
and zipping up. “That was hot,” he says and stands, walking over to Cas and
kissing his neck. Cas smiles softly, scrubbing his hands to get Dean’s come off
of them.
     “I’m going to go find a book,” Cas says after a moment, turning off the
water and pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. He isn’t looking at Dean.
“You might want to wait a minute or two. We don’t want anyone thinking anything
if they saw.” Dean scoffs.
     “Yeah, we don’t want them thinking we're gay,” Dean says jokingly. Even
though people don’t talk about it, everyone knows Cas is gay. And Dean has
always flirted, regardless of sex. So what if they thought he took that next
step?
     “You’re right, Dean. We don’t. My mom would kill me if she found out, kick
me out, refuse to let me see you.” Cas angrily throws his paper towels in the
garbage can. Dean looks more incredulous still.
     “Are you mad at me?” Dean asks, stepping forward and dipping his head so
Cas has to meet his eyes.
     “No,” Cas sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s just
had sex, but then again he always looks like that, so maybe no one will notice.
“It’s just...you came when I said people would catch us and think you’re mine.”
     “So? The possibility of getting caught makes it ten times hotter,” Dean
says with a defensive and confused shrug.
     “But that isn’t what did it for you. You came when I said they’d know you
were mine,” Cas says, refusing to let Dean look away. An eternity passes.
     “You’re all I ever think about,” Dean doesn’t say. “I want to be more than
your fuck buddy,” Dean doesn’t say. “I’m in love with you,” Dean doesn’t say.
“What do you want me to say, Cas?” Dean says instead, and Cas sighs.
     “I don’t want you to say anything, Dean. I just.” Cas lets out a shaky
breath and runs his hand through his hair again.
     “Why did you even say it if it was gonna be a problem?”
     “I didn’t mean…I don’t know…” An eternity passes, and for every second,
Dean tries to pretend he isn’t hurt. “I need a new book, so I’m going to go get
one, and I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” And then he’s unlocking the door
and leaving Dean alone with no one but his reflection. Winchesters don’t
tolerate queer. Gays are what’s wrong with the world. Queers deserve to die.
Faggots are fucking disgusting.His dad’s voice is harsh, but he is no longer
staring at a poor gay couple crossing his path or a TV broadcast about same sex
marriage. Instead, he is staring his son dead in the eye telling him he’s
worthless because he likes Cas.
     Dean wonders if maybe he's right... He sighs before pulling open the door
and sauntering back into the library. He doesn’t see Cas, but he see’s Lisa, so
he goes up to her and wraps an arm around her waist. “You ready?” he asks her,
glancing down to the paperback she holds between her hands.
     “Did you not want a Vonnegut?” Lisa asks, pushing her hair back from her
face concernedly.
     “Nah,” he says shrugging. “They didn’t have the one I wanted.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
     Dean doesn’t see Cas again until later that night. He and Sam sit in the
living room playing Mario Kart (Dean is just letting Sam win so the little
bitch won’t cry), and John is dead to the world, passed out in his bedroom.
     “Oh, fuck you,” Dean shouts, fishtailing and spinning across the banana
peel his little brother threw at him. Sam laughs and crosses the finish line
ahead of Dean for the sixth time that night. “Whatever,” Dean grumbles, tossing
the steering wheel to the couch and standing. “I’m going outside.”
     “I’m gonna call Jess,” Sam announces, his face smug.
     “You do that,” Dean teases and walks outside. He pulls a pack of
cigarettes from his pocket and takes one out to light. As he inhales, he sees
Cas leave his house, but he is content to just sit and watch. He knows Cas is
still weirded out about earlier, and Dean doesn’t blame him. He did shoot his
load all over Cas just because of some stupid claim that didn’t mean anything
anyways. Dean flicks his ashes with a sigh.
     Cas is beautiful, no doubt. He’s six feet of tight, lean muscle, smooth,
tanned skin, and big, blue eyes. He is strong jaw lines, high cheekbones, and a
head full of constant sex hair. He’s beautiful, and he’s Dean’s best friend in
the world. He’s been here through it all, and just because Cas doesn’t like
Dean the way he likes Cas doesn’t mean Cas doesn’t still love him.
     “That’s bad for you,” a voice says, and Dean realizes he was so involved
in watching Cas walk away that he missed the little sister slipping out behind
him. Well, Dean supposes she isn’t so little any more. She’s only two years
younger and just as beautiful as Cas. They are different, but equally
beautiful. She is five feet, six inches of soft curves, porcelain skin, and
smoldering green eyes. She is bow-shaped lips, sloping cheek bones, and long,
red hair. She has every ounce of sex appeal that Dean’s ever been attracted to
in a woman, but he could never be attracted to her like that. Changing her
smelly diaper at three will put a guy off real quick.
     “I know,” he says, taking another hit, still very blatantly following her
brother with his eyes.
     “Are you and him okay?” she asks, taking a seat next to him on the porch
step.
     “Sure,” he says, taking another long pull on his cigarette. “Why wouldn’t
we be?” Anna shrugs.
     “I don’t know.” A long moment passes. Dean continues to smoke, staring
after Cas until he turns a corner and removes himself from Dean’s sight.
“Listen, Dean, my mom is still pissed at him for being the president of the
GSA, and she's still pissed at him for writing that play. She’s none too happy
with you either for kissing him, but she still thinks it was all for the play.”
     “It was.”
     “Right, because I don’t hear you two at night,” she says with a roll of
her eyes. Dean flushes a deep red, fumbling to think of some way, anyway to
deny it. “Even if I didn’t, I have eyes. I see the way you two look at each
other, and so do other people.”
     “What? People are saying stuff?” he asks, flicking his cigarette into the
grass easily. She shrugs.
     “They’ve always said stuff. It’s weird for you two to be so close.”
     “He’s my best friend,” Dean says defensively. Anna puts her hands up.
     “It’s more than that though, and people can tell. So they’ve started
talking, and like I said, that’s not really new, but now I’ve started hearing
it because I see it too.” Her green eyes narrow on him, and Dean mentally rolls
his eyes in preparation for her if you hurt my brother I’ll kill you speech.
“He really loves you,” she says, startling him.
     “I love him too. He’s my best friend in the whole world,” Dean says,
because he so does not want to talk about his totally un-platonic feelings for
Cas with his little sister.
     “So don’t hurt him,” she says, and Dean rolls his eyes internally again.
There it is, he thinks dryly. “Because you really could. If Mom finds out, she
would never speak to him again. Not that that’s the worst fate there is, but
she could inflict so much worse if she wants.” Dean says nothing. He wants to
light another cigarette, but his eighteenth birthday is still months away and
he hates asking people to buy them for him. “I’m just saying, please be careful
with him, with whatever this is that you guys are doing.”
     “Aye, aye Captain,” Dean says. He is so done with this conversation. He is
so embarrassed that, if he were to be dissected right here, he feels sure his
organs would be found liquified. Anna offers Dean a smile before standing and
walking back to her house. Dean wonders dryly as he watches her walk away if
great asses run in the family or if that’s just a Cas and Anna thing. Dean
sighs and puts his head in his hands.
     “So, you and Cas,” a new voice from behind him says, and Dean jerks around
so fast that his head spins. Sam is standing behind the screen door, one of his
socks falling to his ankle and his hair sticking up on one side.
     “Sam,” he says, swearing that his heart is breaking. “Sam please, listen
to me. It’s not what you think.” Sam pushes open the door and walks to Dean.
Dean is waiting for him to tell him that he’s worthless, tell him he’s a
failure, tell him he’s repulsive. He doesn’t think he can stand hearing that
from his brother, so he swallows down his tears and tries to speak again. “Cas
and I…we’ve kind of been...seeing each other…sort of.” Sam stares him for a
long moment, and Dean sees himself losing his brother, losing everything in the
aftermath of this one single admittance. Tears simmer in his eyes.
     “Okay. Can we order pizza for supper?” he asks, and Dean’s eyes snap to
him.
     “What?”
     “Pizza, can we order some?”
     “I…sure. Did you hear what I said?”
     “Yeah, I heard you. You and Cas are dating, sort of.”
     “And you’re just okay with it?” Dean asks, studying Sam’s face carefully
to see if he’s really okay.
     “Does he make you happy?” Sam asks, turning and looking at Dean. Dean can
barely look him in the face. He feels sure that he’ll see disgust and
disappointment in his brother’s face, but all he sees is curiosity.
     “Yeah, Sam. You know he does,” Dean says, his throat tight as he swallows.
He threads his fingers together between his knees.
     “Then I don’t care. I mean, okay, it’s a little weird, I guess, but
whatever. As long as you’re happy.” Sam shrugs. Dean stares at his little
brother, absolutely incredulous.
     “You are the best,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around his little brother’s
shoulders and pulling him against his side as the dread finally washes away
from him.
     “You’re a dork,” Sam laughs, ducking his head as Dean ruffles his hair. “I
mean, you’d do the same for me.”
     “All day, every day,” Dean replies with a smile. “But, Sammy, keep it
quiet. I don’t want dad to know. He would be pissed.”
     “Yeah…he would. Okay. I have a question, by the way,” Sam says, pulling
away from Dean and turning to look at him.
     “What? And I swear if you ask who’s the chick in our relationship I’m
gonna split your lip, ‘cause neither of us are and that's kind of the whole
point." Sam lets out a horrified squeak around his flushed cheeks.
     “Gross! No!" he exclaims, reeling away and closing his eyes to burn the
mental image and find his question again. "I see and hear waytoo much of your
sex life as it is and I want to see and hear even less of it with Cas." He
shudders, and Dean grins, finding ever the pleasure in making Sam
uncomfortable. "Okay, my question is, why Lisa if you’re with Cas?” Sam asks
finally, and Dean’s playful banter deflates.
     “I don’t really know. It’s really complicated.”
     “You can tell me,” Sam promises, and Dean knows that. He thinks about it
for a moment before deciding to tell him everything. “So,” Sam says when Dean
finishes. “Let me get this straight. You kissed Cas and then he wanted you to
kiss him again, but with no strings attached. So you did. And since then you’ve
been falling for him, but all the while, hethinks it’s just a friends with
benefits, no strings attached kind of thing? And you haven’t broken up with
Lisa because you think that somehow, she can be your gay cover and convince
people you aren’tin love with Cas?”
     “Pretty much,” Dean says, hanging his head between his knees.
     “Dude,” Sam says, his hair hanging in his eyes as he looks at his big
brother. “That’s messed up.” Dean scoffs.
     “Tell me about it.”
     “So what are you going to do?”
     “What can I do?” Dean asks, raising his head with a shrug.
     “I don’t know, man,” Sam says with a soft huff. “You could tell him.
There’s always the chance that he likes you back.”
     “Yeah, thanks for that, Sammy,” Dean says sarcastically. Sam rolls his
eyes and huffs again.
     “I’m just saying. It sounds like a set up for some cheesy rom-com. Stands
to reason that it would end like one. The girl always gets her hero.” Sam winks
at him, and Dean bitchfaces him, because thank you very much, he is the hero.
     “Actually," Dean starts seriously. "He might already know." Dean sighs,
earning himself wide eyes from Sam.
     “What?” he asks, leaning forward to catch Dean's eye again. “He already
knows you're in love with him?”
     “I'm not in love with him,” Dean tries to protest weakly, but Sam is
already talking over him.
     “Why the hell are you here then? How did he find out? What did he do?”
     “Christ, Sammy,” Dean interrupts with a roll of his eyes before he can ask
him to tell him exactly word for word what he said like some ten-year-old girl.
“It was weird. I didn't exactly have control over telling him.”
     “What exactly does that mean?” Sam asks, and Dean huffs out a laugh
because he forgot he does indeed have a ten-year-old little sister instead of a
thirteen-year-old brother. Might as well call him Samantha.
     “You don't wanna know.” Dean assures with a sly smile at his brother,
praying that it will be enough to let Sam know he really doesn’t want to know.
     “Yes, I do,” Sam pushes, so Dean cuts him a sideways glance.
     “He was jerking me off in the school bathroom, and when I came, it was
because he said anyone who walked in would know I was his,” Dean says, watching
with halfhearted glee as the horror makes its way onto his little brother's
face.
     “Gross!” Sam shouts, reeling away from Dean with his face screwed up in
disgust. Dean laughs a little.
     “Told you that you didn't want to know,” Dean says with a shrug. “If it
makes you feel any better, this is so not how I was wanting to tell you I like
dudes too.” The horror leaks out of Sam's face.
     “There are worse ways I could have found out,” Sam says with a shrug and a
small smile. “At least you were clothed this way.” Dean snorts and stands,
ready to make his way inside. When Sam stands, Dean wraps and easy arm around
his shoulder and begins to lead him inside feeling lighter than he has in
weeks. “By the way,” Sam says before they get through the screen door. “You
guys haven’t...here...in your room or anything, right?” Sam asks, that
horrified look coming back to mingle with desperate hopeful. Dean shakes his
head.
     “Nah...” Dean says, watching with glee as relief washes over Sam. “But we
have in yours,” and the shriek that Sam lets out is instant gratification that
sends Dean into a fit of laughter even as Sam bounds down the hall yelling
about disinfecting his sheets. “Better get your desk too!” Dean calls after
him, laughing when Sammy yells again.
     “Gross, Dean!” Dean smiles and makes his way to his room. Cas is not
waiting in his room when he arrives, so with a small surge of disappointment,
he pulls his headphones on and drifts into the clutches of sleep before he can
decide otherwise.
     He dreams in shades of blue.
     The lunch table the next day is crowded with its usual suspects. Jess,
Sam, Cas, Dean, and Lisa. They all sit together and they laugh together. Dean
keeps stealing glances at Cas, all the while imagining his lips on Cas’. He
knows it has reached a crisis point. He keeps watching Cas laugh. Even with his
fucking hot girlfriend slyly sliding her hand up his thigh, he watches Cas. He
watches him, watches his every blink, his every inhale…right up until a new
face arrives at their lunch table. Even if the new face hadn’t been wearing a
v-neck that practically showed her nipples, the smile that she brings out of
Cas is enough to make Dean see her in a new light, one that makes Dean hate
her.
     “Meg,” Cas says, his eyes light and mouth set in a smile. Dean’s eyes
narrow.
     “Clarence,” says Meg, a rolling lilt in her voice. She grins down at Cas,
brown eyes twinkling dangerously.
     “Sit, please,” Cas says, waving to the empty bench next to him, smiling
wider when Meg sits closer than strictly necessary.
     “Sure, Meg. Sit,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes and a bite to his
voice. Cas cuts him a sideways glance, too consumed to even spare him a full
glare. Lisa’s hand creeps further up his leg.
     “What’s up, Clarence?” Meg says, leaning forward on her elbows and cocking
her head to Cas. Dean rolls his eyes.
     “I still don’t understand why you call me that,” Cas says, that dopey
smile still on his face.
     “I see that,” Meg says, turning and tossing the rest of them glances.
“Would you like to go get a soda with me?” she asks, turning back to Cas with a
smile on her face. Cas nods and stands, walking too close to Meg as they head
towards the vending machines. Dean probably isn’t hiding the disgust on his
face as well as he’d like to. Lisa’s hand reaches critical point, but Dean is
too angry to be annoyed.
     He doesn’t see Cas that night. Instead, he has sex with Lisa and pretends
he doesn’t mind that she isn’t Cas. He doesn’t see Cas the next morning.
Instead, he accepts a blow job from Lisa and barely holds back Cas’ name as he
comes. It’s lunch when he finally sees Cas again, and lucky for him, Meg is
close behind. Cas is smiling.
     “Dean,” Sam says, leaning close and tapping his shoulder. Dean reluctantly
tears his eyes away from the fact that he’s not the one making Cas smile to
look around him. Lisa is nowhere to be seen, Jess is holding tight to Sam’s
hand, and Sam is looking at him concernedly.
     “What?” Dean practically hisses. Sam rolls his eyes.
     “Stop,” he hisses back, cutting his eyes to Cas, and Dean would be
embarrassed if Cas weren’t too busy laughing at something completely unfunny
Meg said. Dean stands and walks away. So what if he doesn’t like Cas’ new
friend? So what if he doesn’t want to sit and watch Cas laugh at everything Meg
says. He’s not jealous. He’s not jealous. Dean punches the wall of the boy’s
bathroom, reeling his knuckles away bloody.
     “Dean?” Dean turns on his heels and finds himself staring into eyes of the
bluest blue to ever blue. He bites back a groan. “Are you alright?” Cas asks,
tilting his head in earnest.
     “Fuckin’ great, Cas,” Dean retorts, turning away from him and leaning over
the bathroom sink. He feels stupid. He feels stupid because some part of him,
despite all they said about keeping it purely physical, really believed that
someday Cas might have feelings for him. He feels stupid because some part of
him, even through all this shit, really believed that they’d end up together.
He feels stupid because Cas obviously likes Meg.
     “I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Cas says, his brow pulled together
in confusion.
     “You like Meg,” Dean spits, turning to Cas. Cas’ eyebrows pull lower.
     “Yes. She’s very bright and quite funny.” Dean exhales hugely, anything to
keep from feeling the knife Cas just jammed into his side.
     “Awesome,” Dean spits, pushing himself away from the counter. He starts
for the door, and would very likely be out and storming down the hall had it
not been for Cas’ hand snapped around his wrist.
     “Do you not approve of Meg?” Cas asks, and Dean rolls his eyes.
     “Sure, Cas. I think Meg is cherry.” Dean jerks his arm away from Cas but
doesn’t leave.
     “Meg is just a friend.”
     ‘Yeah, I’ll bet,” Dean snorts. Cas steps forward, his eyes dark, his lips
slightly parted.
     “Dean Winchester, you are jealous,” Cas says, his voice a growl that
shoots straight between Dean’s legs.
     “Am not,” he mutters, eyes flicking down to Cas’ lips before rising to his
eyes. Cas is steadily closing the distance between them, one finger in Dean’s
belt loop and the other around the nape of his neck.
     “I’m about to kiss you,” Cas says, and Dean nods, wrapping an easy arm
around Cas’ waist. So Dean’s jealous. He’s still the one making out with Cas
right now. Dean runs his tongue along the seam between Cas’ lips, groaning with
the moan Cas lets out when their tongues meet. Dean walks them backwards until
Cas’ shoulders meet the wall and Dean is able to push against him, his entire
front meeting the line of Cas’, and for three days, they stay in that precious
limbo, Dean sneaking into Cas’ window at night to fool around and Cas stealing
Dean aside in school to get him off. Then day four comes, and it starts with a
flyer.
     “Hey-o brother,” Benny says, jogging to catch up with Dean as they make
their way to the next class. Benny has a grin on his face, and a stack of
papers in his hand. “Party tonight at my place and you better be there,” he
says, slipping one of the papers into Dean’s hands and slapping him on the
back. “Hey, Andrea,” he calls, running off to pass out the rest of the fliers.
     “Hey, Cas," Dean calls, sidling up to Cas and leaning close. "Wanna go to
a party tonight?"
     “Sure,” Cas says eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips.
     “Hey, Clarence,” a new voice says, and puts a hand against Dean’s chest,
effectively pushing her way between the two of them. Dean has half a mind to
rip her from the conversation by the roots of her hair, but instead, he rolls
his eyes and steps away from Megstiel.
     “I’ll see you tonight, Cas,” Dean says and steps away. He drives Sam home
that day and sits to play video games with him for a while before showering and
heading out for Benny’s. The minute he walks in, someone hands him a beer, and
he downs it. “Yo, Benny,” he calls over the pulsing music, but Benny does not
appear. “You seen Benny?” he asks a random, and they point to the kitchen. Dean
finds Benny pulling Jell-O shots from the fridge, humming along to the beating
bass with the smell of alcohol already staining his breath.
     “Dean!” Benny shouts when he catches sight of him. “You are mybest friend.
Come here!” Benny reels Dean in with a sloppy kiss on his cheek and an easy arm
thrown around his shoulders.
     “Wow, you’re really wasted,” Dean comments, wiping Benny’s spit from his
cheek, grinning when Benny begins to laugh.
     “Am I?” he asks, whining softly when Dean takes the Jell-O shots from him
before they end up on the floor and sets them on the counter
     “Yeah, buddy. You are. Have you seen Cas?”
     “Cas? No! You guys are the best. You are like," Benny pauses, bringing his
hands around front to stare at them. He concentrates on them for a while before
smashing them together, lacing his fingers and wiggling them. He continues
excitedly. "The best bestest friends. I love you guys!” Dean rolls his eyes and
takes a Jell-O shot before leaving Benny alone in the kitchen to tell someone
else how much he loves them. Dean searches the house from top to bottom,
pushing his way through the people and the pulsing crowds until he finally
spots Cas alone by the door looking for all the world like he doesn’t want to
be here.
     “Cas,” he shouts, pushing through the people until he is standing directly
in front of Cas, that dopey grin still on his face. Cas smiles at Dean, stubbly
cheeks almost swallowing his eyes. “Do you want a drink?” Dean asks, leaning
close so Cas can hear him over the music. He smells like cologne and strawberry
shampoo.
     “Yeah,” Cas agrees, following Dean through the crowds back into the
kitchen. Benny is still in there, but now he’s got a dark-skinned, dark-haired
girl pressed flush against the wall with wildly searching hands.
     “Beer?” Dean asks, turning to Cas with a small smile. He looks hot
tonight, Dean thinks idly, taking in the sharp contrast of his blue eyes to the
deep, rich purple of his shirt Dean is so caught up in the disarray of Cas’
hair that he misses his response. “What?” he asks, hoping he can blame his slip
on the music, though it is considerably quieter in the kitchen than the living
room.
     “I said whatever you’re drinking,” Cas says, stepping closer to make his
voice heard. Dean fills Cas a cup from the keg and leads him back to the main
room, ignoring the sloppy sounds Benny is making on the girl he’s groping.
“Great party,” Cas comments when they make it back to the main room. People are
dancing everywhere, cups held high and lights turned low.
     “Yeah. Kinda crowded though,” Dean says, swaying gently into Cas’
shoulder. Dean leans closer to Cas so that his lips brush Cas’ ear when he
speaks. “I bet we could find a place a bit more private.” Cas turns minutely,
catching eyes with Dean before heading for the stairs without another word.
Dean has to stop himself from reaching out and smacking Cas’ ass as he makes
his way up the stairs.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Smut shall ensue again!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
     They do indeed find a place that’s more private. Granted, it’s Benny’s
bedroom, which, thanks to Benny’s recent streak of acting out, has had the lock
removed. Dean will thank him later for letting them borrow his room and then
bitch at him a little for being a rebellious shit and getting his lock taken
away.
     They barely get the door shut before Dean is slipping his shirt over his
head and reeling Cas to him, lips parted and seeking. It doesn’t take long for
Dean to get Cas’ shirt matching his, that being elsewhere; however, he does
take a moment to strip Cas of his shoes, open the door, and slip a sock over
the handle, because fuck yeah, this room is occupied. When the door shuts back,
Dean is once again on Cas, pushing their bodies together and swallowing the
moans Cas lets out.
     Dean walks them backward towards the bed until Cas is sitting down and
Dean's leaning over him. Cas doesn’t break the kiss as he leans back, pulling
Dean until he’s hovering over him, arms bracketing Cas' body. Dean runs his
hands along Cas’ sides, taking a moment to pull away from his mouth and suck at
his pulse point, lick into the hollow of his throat, nip along his shoulder,
before pushing his lips back against Cas’.
     “Dean,” Cas moans, one hand unraveling from Dean’s hair to fly down to his
ass, bringing their hips grinding together against the delicious friction.
“Dean, I want you so fucking bad,” Cas whimpers, bringing his hips up to meet
the push of Dean’s.
     Dean is ready for this. He really is. They’ve been fooling around for over
a month now, and it’s gotten to the point where he can't even have sex with his
girlfriend without Cas popping into his head. He can't even jerk himself off
without wishing that Cas were there, and it shocks him to realize he wants Cas
inside him.
     “Cas, I want you to fuck me,” Dean says into Cas’ mouth, nudging Cas’
knees apart with one of his own and pressing hard against the bulge he finds
there. Cas groans, be it from the word or the knee.
     “I-I would love nothing—ah!—nothing more than to fuck you,” he bites out,
panting as Dean sucks hickey after hickey into his neck.
     “Then what’s stopping you?" Dean growls, pushing against Cas’ straining
dick once again, his own reaching a crisis point. He removes one of his hands
from Cas’ chaotic hair to sit back, unzip, and take it in hand. Cas’ lips part
hungrily at the sight of Dean’s swollen and leaking cock, even going so far as
to lick his lips before he speaks, his eyes still on Dean’s penis.
     “You…bottoming…I don’t want to hurt you, Dean,” Cas chokes out finally,
his eyes flicking away from Dean’s dick to look at his face. Dean is ready to
resist. He is ready to assure Cas that he could never hurt him, but something
in Cas’ eyes tells Dean that this is about more than just that. He gets the
feeling that there is something else, something important, so Dean swallows
down his pride and kisses Cas softly.
     “Whatever you want,” Dean allows, falling onto his side next to Castiel
instead straddling over him. Dean stops the slow pull on his dick to wrap an
easy arm around Cas’ middle and pull him close.
     “I want to give you the best blow job of your life,” Cas says, leaning
forward and kissing Dean sloppily until he is laying on his back, Cas’ tongue
leaving hot trails across all the good places between his mouth and his dick.
     “I would not be opposed to that,” Dean chokes out, folding his arms behind
his head to keep from wrapping his fingers into Cas’ hair and fucking up into
his mouth. He takes in a deep, calming breath before Cas’ lips are around
Dean’s dick, sucking relentlessly with little laps again and again against his
head. Dean groans, bringing a hand over to cover his eyes. Cas hums contentedly
around Dean’s prick, his hand working in perfect time at the base, occasionally
slipping lower to fondle his balls. Cas never touches his hole though, and Dean
cannot honestly say that he isn’t disappointed about that fact. “Holy fuck,
Cas,” he groans, finally giving up and slapping a hand into Cas’ hair.
     Dean knows that he’s moaning, groaning senseless encouragements around
Cas’ soft whimpers. He knows that everyone knows he’s getting some damn good
action in here, but he doesn’t know that not everyoneknows the sock on the
doorknob means do not disturb.
     "Whoa!” a new voice says, sending the two scrambling away from each other,
ten shades of red coloring their faces. They had been so…well, immersed that
they hadn’t heard the door open.
     “Garth,” Dean stammers, slamming a pillow down over his bare crotch.
     “Iso wish I hadn’t seen that,” Garth slurs, bringing a hand to his face as
though that could wipe the image from his memory.
     “You and me both,” Dean grumbles around his slight panic.
     “Yeah, no, sure, definitely. I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. I mean,
I’m completely supportive of this relationship because it’s been forever in the
making, and everyone knows you kinda love each other, but lock a door! Balls!”
he says and leaves the bedroom, holding a hand over his eyes and bumping into
the frame on his way out.
     “Holy shit,” Dean mutters when he’s gone. “Getting caught is not as hot as
I was expecting.”
     “Do you think he saw?” Cas asks worriedly, wiping absently at his swollen
lips as though he had come on them. Which he did not. Because Dean had not.
Which Dean is painfully aware of.
     “I don’t know, Cas.”
     “Do you think he’ll tell anyone? Dean, my mom cannot find out about us.”
Cas’ eyes are sparkling, and it takes Dean a moment to realize that tears of
panic are filling them.
     “No, Cas. He said he didn’t want to talk about it,” Dean assures, leaning
forward and putting a kiss against Cas’ shoulder.
     “He looked very drunk. Maybe you should talk to him,” Cas suggests, panic
practically radiating off of him.
     “We can’t finish?” Dean asks, only half-kidding as he raises his hand to
cup Cas’ cheek, earning himself a blue-eyed glare. Dean grins and moves to put
his pants on. “I’ll talk to him,” Dean assures, leaning back down to kiss Cas.
     “Thank you,” Cas whispers, looking up to Dean with watery eyes.
     “Anything for you,” Dean murmurs, but he’s pretty sure Cas doesn’t hear
him. It's probably for the best. “Yo, Garth,” Dean calls after he gets dressed
and leaves the room, catching sight of the scrawny boy walking very quickly
down the stairs. “Garth, hold up.” Garth pauses, mid-step and turns to look at
Dean.
     “Hey! Dean!” Garth calls, face lighting up as though he hadn't just seen
Dean getting his brains sucked out.
     “Garth, I need to talk to you.” Dean claps a hand on Garth’s shoulder to
keep him in place. Garth’s eyes widen.
     “Is this about what happened in there?” Garth asks with a conspiratorial
grin, bringing a hand up to mime a blowjob, one that Dean promptly pulls down
and makes him decide that Garth is absolutely hammered. The guy probably only
had one beer. Dean sighs.
     “Yes, listen. Cas and I…it was just…Garth, listen, you can’t tell anyone.
My dad…Cas’ mom…it..." Dean doesn’t even know what to say.
     “Nooo,” Garth interrupts, waving a big, dramatic hand before Dean can find
his words amidst his big gay-panic. “You guys are the best. I’m not going to
tell anyone.” Garth hiccups.
     “Seriously, Garth. Don’t tell anyone.”
     “I’m nooot.” Dean sighs. He figures this is about as good as it’s going
get.
     “Thanks, Garth,” Dean says, clapping his shoulder again before turning and
heading back to the room where Cas is. When he gets the door open, he finds Cas
sitting in the middle of the bed, his shirt back on and his hair in a state of
disarray. Dean closes the door behind him, taking long strides to sit before
Cas. “He’s not going to be telling anyone,” Dean assures, leaning close and
dipping his head so he can kiss Cas. Cas is hesitant at first, but the minute
Dean slides his tongue along Cas’ bottom lip, Cas is ready to accept him again.
Dean brings his hand up to knot in Cas’ hair, sucking his bottom lip between
his own. Ten minutes could not have passed before a new and violent
interruption presents itself.
     “Dean Winchester!” A voice screeches, accompanied by thunderous footsteps
and many slamming doors. “Get out here, you son of a bitch!” Dean pulls away
from Cas, turning concernedly to the door.
     “Is that…Lisa?” Cas asks, his thumb absently stroking Dean’s jaw.
     “Oh, shit,” Dean groans, rolling away from Cas and jogging to the door.
When Dean pulls the door open enough to poke his head out, he sees Lisa banging
away at the door next to them, anger set into her shoulders. “Lisa,” he says,
stepping out and taking her wrist in his hand to stop the banging.
     “You son of a bitch! You’re fucking around with Ca—” she starts before
Dean slaps a hand over her mouth.
     “Lisa, please,” he says, stepping close so that the heads she has turned
with her spectacle cannot hear. “Don’t make a scene.”
     “Yysshmks,” Lisa spits, so Dean removes his hand. She wipes angrily at her
lips, smearing what was left of her lipstick. “You asshole! I asked you if
there was anything going on. You lied to me!"
     “Can we talk about this?” Dean asks quietly, glancing around to the faces
still blatantly watching them. “Privately,” he says pointedly, putting a hand
on Lisa’s back, one that she promptly slaps away but moves for the stairs
anyways. Dean follows, throwing a mournful glance at the door Cas has the good
sense to keep firmly shut between them. When they make it outside, Lisa decides
that they have gone far enough and turns to Dean with fury in her eyes,
demanding an explanation. "How did you find out?” Dean asks quietly after a
long moment of surveying the groups of people around him. Everyone outside is
too wasted to care what Lisa and Dean are arguing about.
     “Garth told me,” Lisa spits, and Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes.
     “Of course he did,” Dean mutters sarcastically, earning himself an attack
of slaps against his chest.
     “Of course he did, you asshole!” she shouts between slaps. “He’s my
cousin! Did you expect him not to? What the fuck is the matter with you?” Dean
catches her wrists, but once again she jerks away. “You’re fucking Cas,” she
spits venomously.
     “Technically, we’ve just been fooling around. We haven’t fucked yet.” Dean
shrugs, as though that or his words would make the situation better. All anger
drains from Lisa’s face.
     “Oh. You’re just fooling around? Well, that makes it better.” The anger
pushes itself through her sarcasm in a rush. “What the hell is your problem?”
she shrieks, stomping her foot prissily.
     “Lisa, look, I like Cas. A lot,” Dean says with a shrug, bringing a hand
to the back of his neck.
     “What are you? Fucking gay?” she spits, and Dean visibly recoils.
     “No, smartass. I’m bisexual,” Dean counters, watching as everything drops
off Lisa’s face. Her arms come up to cross over her chest.
     “We need to break up,” she says flatly, staring up at Dean with her hip
jutted out and contempt in her eyes.
     “What?” Dean asks, entirely dumbfounded because he’s sure as hell that he
didn’t hear her right. “Why? It’s not like you haven’t been fooling around too!
You have Roy, and I have Cas.”
     “That’s not what this is about. We’ve never been mutually exclusive, but I
can’t date a gay guy,” she says, sticking her nose up in the air and turning
away from Dean.
     “I’m not gay. I’m bi,” Dean repeats with a snarl, anger unfurling from his
gut with her every step away from him until he can't take it anymore. “You’re a
real bitch, you know that? You spend months cheating on me with Roy and Michael
and Adam, and it’s the fact that I kiss one guy that puts you off? How many
guys have you kissed this month alone?” Lisa turns around and reels backward,
planting a foot behind her and stretching her eyes wide. “My sexuality doesn’t
change who I am, Lisa, and if you can’t accept that, then I don’t want to be
with you either. Homophobes aren’t really my style.” Dean stares at Lisa a
moment longer before turning and heading back for Cas.
     “Dean, wait,” she calls, and if it weren’t for the hand on his shoulder,
he probably would have kept walking. He turns back to her with his decision set
into his shoulders. “You’re right," she says softly. She even has the good
grace to look ashamed. "I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if you like guys too.” She
steps closer, bringing a hand up and cupping Dean’s cheek. Dean clenches his
jaw against the brush of her fingers over his stubble. “I still want you. I
still want to be with you.” Dean stares at her for a long while. He takes in
her long, dark hair, her big, brown eyes, her full, pink lips. He thinks of
having sex with her, of her perfect breasts and her wonderful pussy. He'll
never have that again if he walks away from her tonight...
     “No,” Dean says, taking her hand off his face and stepping back because
really, it's a no-brainer. Ask him Lisa or Cas, and it'll be Cas every single
time.
     “No,” Lisa repeats, leaning forward and catching Dean’s eyes. “Why not?”
     “Because I want to be with him,” he says, and it feels like a weight has
been lifted off his chest. He wants to bewith Cas. He wants more than the sex
and more than the friendship. He wants Cas in his laughter and Cas in his joy
and Cas in his grumpy mornings and his lazy afternoons and his sleepless
nights. He wants Cas, and he wants Cas to want him back.
     “You’re choosing Castiel over me?” she asks, her eyes set wide.
     “Hell yeah,” Dean says and starts to walk away.
     “No!” she shrieks, but Dean keeps walking. “You can’t do that! I’ll tell
everyone!” As soon as the words leave her lips, Dean stills, his spine rigid,
his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He spins slowly to face her.
     “If you tell a soul, I will ruin you,” Dean snarls. “Castiel has the world
waiting for him, and you will not ruin that for him. Do you understand?” Lisa’s
eyes are wide, horrified, and Dean walks away. He doesn’t think she has it in
her to tell. She cared about Cas once upon a time too. “Come on, Cas,” Dean
says when he finds him just inside the door. “We’re leaving. Thanks for the
party, Benny,” Dean calls, saluting the drunken Benny who is now clinging to
the dark-haired girl’s waist. Dean just catches Benny waving back before he and
Cas have made it through the door and into the Impala. Cas is silent for a long
while, chewing on his knuckles and watching the miles pass by.
     “What happened?” Cas asks finally, his eyes still on the outside.
     “With Lisa?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas before throwing his head back with
a short laugh that is built on bravado and worriment. “Ah, that’s over. Garth
let it slip about us making out. She said she didn’t want a bisexual
boyfriend...never even mentioned the fact that I was cheating on her.” They
laugh together, and Dean swallows back the fact that hebroke up with Lisa for
Cas.He’s not ready to tell him yet. “You wanna go to my house? Or…?”
     “Actually, I’m kind of tired. Rain check on that blowjob?” he asks,
glancing over to Dean with a half-formed smile.
     “There’d better be a rain check,” Dean says with a wink, reaching out and
taking the hand Cas has resting on his thigh. He feels Cas tense beside him,
and of all the things that they’ve done, he feels this is the one that has
crossed the line. In their ‘purely physical’ relationship, every action thus
far has been with the obvious endgame of getting off. Lacing fingers with Cas
is something Dean is doing just because he wants to feel Cas, just because he
wants to hold him, and according to the hard swallow Cas gives, he knows it.
Dean almost lets go just because of that, but despite the fact that he isn’t
looking at Dean, Cas is holding tight.
     When the road beneath Baby's wheels turns to Cas’ driveway, they finally
detach. Dean wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss Cas goodnight, but
there’s always the chance that Ms. Milton is watching and waiting for Cas to
slip up. Cas offers Dean a smile before moving to get out of Dean’s car.
     “Hey, wait,” Dean says, stopping Cas with his hand on the door. Dean
scoots closer to Cas and takes his hand again. Cas looks down to their joined
hands, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Dean doesn’t pull Cas’ hand to his
lips, instead he bends down and plants a kiss against his knuckles. “I’ll see
you later, okay?” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers before pulling away and
turning back frontwards. Dean, from the corner of his eye, sees Cas hesitate
and then leave, never once looking back.
     “Sammy,” Dean calls when he makes it back to his own home, throwing his
keys onto the table and pulling open the fridge in search of something to eat.
No response comes from his little brother, so Dean spares the microwave a
glance to check the time, finding it only 11:20. Sam’s usually not asleep yet.
Dean swallows a gulp of milk from the carton and closes the fridge. He walks
down the hall to find Sam’s door cracked enough that Dean can see the little
twerp sleeping peacefully, legs sprawled out and covers barely holding on
through Sam’s tornado-like slumber. Dean smiles fondly before taking a running
start and leaping on top of him.
     “Ungh,” Sam grunts, flailing wildly through Dean’s giggles. Dean gets an
arm around Sam’s shoulders, trapping his head against his bicep and rubbing his
knuckles into his hair.
     “Wake up, you little snot!” Dean calls, still giggling wildly.
     “Dean,” Sam whines, slapping at his brother and wriggling until he’s free.
Dean grins and leans back against the wall through Sam’s bitchface.
     “So, Sammy,” Dean starts, wrapping an arm behind his head. “You wanna
watch a movie or something?”
     “No,” Sam growls. “I want to sleep.”
     “Awe, Samantha needs her beauty rest?” Dean croons, reaching out and
ruffling Sam’s disarrayed hair. Sam slaps him away.
     “I have class in the morning,” Sam says, still looking at Dean with
disgust.
     “Tomorrow is Saturday,” Dean laughs, kicking Sam lightly.
     “You don’t know that,” Sam grumbles. Dean rolls his eyes.
     “Come on, Sam. I’m bored.”
     “So go bother someone else, you asshole.”
     “Whatever, bitch,” Dean says, getting up and pushing Sam on his way out.
     “Jerk,” Sam calls, bringing a smile to Dean’s lips. When Dean makes it to
bed, he lays there for hours. He’d be lying if he said he was thinking of
anything other than Cas. Dean was right though, Saturday morning breaks around
them with rays of sun struggling to cut through the thick clouds. Dean has
slept in intervals of twenty minutes at a time, each time snapping himself
awake with sharp blue eyes on his mind. He’s spent the time he isn’t dreaming
of Cas, thinking of Cas, and feeling pussy as fuck for it. It doesn’t matter
though. None of it matters. All that matters is that he can’t, for the life of
him, stop thinking that he wants Cas for real, and eventually, he has had
enough.
     Dean finds himself slogging through the cold of the mist and stopping at
Cas’ front door. His knuckles rap against the wood for nine full seconds before
it is being flung open and Dean is staring into the cold and irritated eyes of
Ms. Milton.
     “Hi, Ms. Milton. Is Cas awake?” Dean asks, shoving his hands into his
jacket pockets and leaning around the woman to look inside.
     “Yes," she replies shortly, clearly irritated as she crosses her arms over
her chest.
     "Well, um, could I speak to him?" Dean asks, and she moves aside with an
irritated sigh. Dean steps around her and heads straight for Cas’ room. Cas is
laying half-naked in bed, the blankets pulled up to his waist and his eyes
glued on the TV.
     “Cartoons,” Dean snorts in playful contempt, following Cas' eyes to the
colorful animations on the screen. Cas glances up to Dean and smiles.
     “Cartoons are hilarious,” Cas says defensively as he sits up, the covers
pooling around his hips. Dean finds his eyes drawn there.
     “Get your ass outta bed,” Dean says after a moment, not bothering to
shield his gaze as Cas stretches, his lean muscles pulling and tightening. Cas
groans as he pushes himself out of bed before pulling on a pair of sweatpants
and a faded t-shirt that Dean’s almost sure belonged to him once upon a time.
     “What are you looking at?” Cas spits, a grin hiding in his eyes.
     “Nothing much, princess," Dean tosses with a wink, cherishing the eyeroll
Cas sends his way. "So...I really need to talk to you," Dean starts, gathering
his courage. Then he chickens out. "But first, I’m gonna need you to brush your
teeth.” Dean grins at Cas. Cas rolls his eyes again and pushes past him to get
to his toothbrush. “I’ll be in the living room!” Dean calls, to which Cas
throws up a hand, not bothering to turn around. Dean watches Cas’ ass
shamelessly as he walks away, bringing a hand to his chest and rolling away
with a small groan. I’m so fucking gone on him,he thinks, making his way to the
living room and slumping into the armchair.
     “Hey, Winchester,” Anna says, walking through and pushing his head
slightly, a grin in her voice.
     “Yo, Milton,” Dean calls, turning slightly to look at her, catching only a
trail of red hair tied back into a ponytail.
     “You here to steal my brother?” she asks, returning to the living room
with a handful of candy.
     “Well, I’m not here to steal you,” he mutters, turning back to the TV and
ignoring the M&M Anna throws at his head.
     “What’s this about stealing me?” Cas asks, entering the living room and
plopping down on the couch next to Anna.
     “I thought we’d hang out, if you wanted. Make use of that rain check,” he
says, tossing Cas a wink. Anna rolls her eyes.
     “You two are disgusting,” she mutters, standing and leaving the pair alone
in the living room, the sounds of the TV being the only other distraction. Ms.
Milton is banging around in the kitchen, Anna has disappeared to God knows
where, and Cas is leaning forward in his seat, eyes locked on Dean’s.
     “We’ll definitely cash in that rain check," Cas says, his eyes sparkling
darkly. "But first, you said something about talking?” Dean swallows hard and
nods.
     “Wanna go to the old tree house?” Dean asks, pushing himself off the chair
and offering a hand to Cas. Cas groans, falling back but putting his hand up
for Dean to grab. Dean rolls his eyes and pulls Cas up, lingering his hand
against Cas’ before letting it go and heading for the door with Cas on his
heels. He pulls in a deep breath, setting his shoulders against the cold and
torment before pulling it open. They walk in silence.
     “Dean, are you ever gonna talk?” Cas asks finally, swaying his shoulder
into Dean's as they break through the line of trees around the creek and their
treehouse.
     “Yes,” Dean says, stepping forward and beginning to climb. When he gets to
the top, he turns to help pull Cas through before scooting to the edge and
looking out over the creek. “Do you remember that time when we were…I don’t
know, nine? Anyways, we had been playing like you were God, but youkept
changing the rules and teaming up with that punk Crowley.” Dean laughs,
scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, I was so mad at you.” Cas laughs too, his
shoulders shaking.
     “You wouldn’t talk to me for days. I finally had to fill myself with
'monsters' and banish myself to ‘purgatory’ to get you to forgive me.”
     “Yeah, which was like ten bags of gummy worms and the woods! You had the
worst stomach ache and you got lost. Me and Benny had to come in here and save
your sorry ass!” Dean’s laughs mingle with Cas’, and the next thing Dean knows,
Cas’ laughing face is pressing into his shoulder. The laughter drains slowly
from Dean as the warmth fills his chest. “I’d do it again,” Dean says, turning
to look at Cas. Cas turns his head, cheek still resting on Dean’s shoulder to
look at him. Dean’s eyes flick down to Cas’ lips, and so what if he can’t help
but lean forward and kiss him. Cas pulls away softly, licking his lips and
moving closer, his head still pressed against Dean’s shoulder. Dean flips his
hand palm side up, and Cas slips his fingers through Dean’s.
     “Did you drag me out here to tell me stories about us as kids?” Cas asks,
gripping Dean’s fingers and voice barely there.
     “No,” Dean admits, laying his head against Cas’. The feeling from last
night races through his veins, the feeling that what they’re doing is riding
awfully close to the line separating “purely physical” and “full of feelings
and shit.”
     “Do you want to tell me?” Cas asks, his voice barely a whisper. Something
tells Dean that Cas is not quite ready to hear it just as much as Dean’s not
quite ready to say it.
     “Not just yet,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers and staring out towards
the lazily moving creek. They sit there hand in hand for a long while, sit
there in their thoughts and silence until Cas’ stomach grumbles loudly,
bringing a small laugh out of both of them. “Come on, you nerd. Let’s go get
some food,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers before detaching and starting for
the ladder. Cas follows close behind him, and by the time they have broken
through the trees again, Dean has decided that he’s ready.He’s Dean fucking
Winchester. He’s ready.
     “Okay,” Dean says, swaying gently into Cas’ shoulder to get his attention.
“So, we’ve been best friends for what, twelve years? Thirteen?” Cas nods,
swaying back into Dean. “And they’ve been great,” Dean continues as their
houses come into view. “And recently, we’ve started making out and giving each
other killer blow jobs and just being generally sexy.” Cas laughs.
     “We are pretty sexy,” he agrees, rolling his eyes.
     “Yes!” Dean says excitedly, raising a hand to his hair and brushing it
down. He’s nervous. He’s really fucking nervous, but he breathes through it
because it’s just Cas, Cas who taught Dean how to build a kite, Cas who Dean
taught how to whistle, Cas who taught Dean that home is a baby brother and a
best friend. “We are sexy, and we are best friends, and it’s awesome.
You’reawesome, and you’re my best friend.”
     “You said that already,” Cas reminds with a grin.
     “Shut up, would you?” Dean grumbles with no real malice. “You’re messing
up my speech.”
     “It sounds like rambling to me.”
     “Would you like to tell it?”
     “Proceed.” Dean rolls his eyes.
     “Cas, I really want this, us, to—”
     “Clarence,” a voice drawls from behind. Dean turns to see Meg walking
towards them, horrid looking in tight leather jeans and a low cut top.You’ve
got to be fucking kidding me,Dean thinks viciously, glaring daggers at the
intruder. "Just the man I was looking for.” Meg steps even closer to Cas,
edging Dean back with her shoulder. “Whaddya say, you and me order a pizza and
move some furniture around?” She winks at Cas, chuckling at the blush she pulls
from him
     “Excuse me?” Cas stammers, turning to Dean with a terrified look in his
eyes.
     “Come on, Cas. I really like you. Let’s go out,” she says, grinning up to
Cas, swallowing his ferocious blush like it’s food and she’s a starving animal.
     “Um,” Cas says, looking to Dean for guidance, but he is too shocked to
respond. “Yeah. Okay,” Cas stammers finally, turning away from Dean to look at
Meg.
     “Great,” Meg drawls, stepping closer and wrapping an easy arm around Cas’
waist. Dean watches his downfall without emotion on his face. He watches Meg
sidle closer and closer to Cas, and he watches Cas grin back at her before Dean
decides he’s had enough and walks away. If he weren’t so busy deciding that he
never had a shot with Cas anyway, he might applaud Meg on her form. If he’d
just said what he was trying to ten seconds sooner, then maybe Cas would be his
boyfriend instead of hers, his boyfriend instead of his fuck buddy/best friend.
Dean glances back at Cas, but he is gone, left as though Dean was never there.
Chapter End Notes
     So sorry for making Lisa into a bitch here. I always liked her in
     canon, but someonehad to kick Dean's repressed ass out of denial.
     Figured it might as well be me and her.
***** Chapter 7 *****
     For the rest of the weekend, Dean sees nothing more of Cas than passing
glimpses through his window as Meg whisks Cas away to some bar or some party or
some something that he would not be doing if it weren't for the bitch. Then
school comes, and Meg insists that Cas sit with her and her band of she-demon
friends. Granted, he looks longingly back at Dean through out the lunch period,
but Dean works hard to ignore it. One of Meg's bitches—Dean thinks her name is
Ruby—keeps screwing with Sam right there in front of Jess, and it is plenty to
keep Dean's mind off Cas. Dean puts his head in his arms to keep from killing
her.
     “Dean, will you please just talk to him?” Sam asks, leaning around Jess to
look at Dean. Dean snaps his head up, a glare already set in place.
     “Well, isn’t that just the most ingenious, cutting-edge idea that I’ve
ever heard!” Dean barks with false excitement.
     “Don’t be a dick, Dean. I’m just trying to help,” Sam counters, his
bitchface on overdrive.
     “Yeah, well, I tried talking to him. Then just as I was about to tell Cas
that I’ve completely fucked up our ‘no feelings involved’ agreement, Meg swoops
in and says, ‘Hey Cas, let’s rearrange some furniture.’” Dean sighs and puts
his head back into his arms.
     “Ew, she said that?” Sam asks, looking to Jess and laughing.
     “Shut up, Sam,” Dean grumbles, wriggling lower in his seat. He sits there
for the whole of the lunch period before pulling himself up and heading to
math.
     To top off his considerably shitty day, he fails a test that he actually
studied for, and with a very small amount of debate, he elects to ditch class
and go the fuck home. When he gets there, he elects to ignore his dad’s drunken
ramblings and instead, to sit and to play Mario Kart until it’s time to pick
Sam up. Sam, of course, is bouncing when he gets in the car, going on and on
about a test he aced, and Dean sinks lower into his funk. He decides then that
the only thing he needs is the solitude of the treehouse that Dean and he-who-
shall-not-be-named built.
     The trail to the tree house is as familiar as ever, a huge rock tossed to
the side, a pesky root sticking up from the ground, the grass worn to death.
Dean could walk this path with his eyes closed, and he just might if every time
he closed his eyes, he didn’t see Cas running with a cape tied to his neck, Cas
laughing with a fishing pole in hand. Cas...Cas everywhere. Instead, he keeps
his eyes open and watches the trees crawl by until he spots that rickety little
house behind the branches.
     He exhales softly as he begins his climb, the tension already beginning to
ease out of his shoulders. Just as he tops the ladder, Dean notices immediately
that something is wrong. Fabric is strewn all over the place, and moans are
filling the air. Oblivious, Dean turns his head only to find Cas stretched out
beneath Meg, his hands gripped high and tight in her hair.
     “Holy fuck,” Dean blurts, and Meg jumps, as if the little pervs hadn’t
heard Dean climbing the ladder and left it all out on display anyway.
     “Dean,” Cas shrieks, pushing Meg off him and fumbling for his pants, as
though Dean hasn’t seen it all before. Dean, however, Dean is already
scrambling down the ladder, jumping at the highest rung he can get away with
and all but sprinting towards the house. “Dean, please wait,” Cas calls. Dean
can hear him clambering his way down the ladder before jumping away and running
after Dean. Cas eventually catches up with him, flinging a hand around Dean's
arm to turn him around. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up there.
That’s our place.”
     “Damn right, you shouldn’t have,” Dean spits, anger unfurling in his gut.
     “Yes…that’s what I just said.” Cas murmurs and not without sorrow, mind
you, but after a long moment of looking at Dean, Cas’ brow furrows together.
“Dean, what’s the matter?”
     “You brought a whore into our tree house!” Dean shouts, throwing his hand
towards her.
     “I can hear you,” comes a voice from the tree house.
     “Fuck off, Meg,” Dean screams, bouncing towards her on the balls of his
feet.
     “Dean,” Cas hisses, putting his hands on Dean's chest and pushing him
firmly down from his bowed up stance. “Don’t talk to her like that."
     “What are you even talking about? She’s a demon, Cas.”
     “Why are you being so hateful? She’s never done anything to you!” Cas'
voice grows so angry that it begins to shake.
     “You don’t even like girls!” Dean hisses quietly, tossing hand up towards
Meg, never forgetting that she can in fact hear them.
     “She’s nice,” Cas defends, eyes narrowed at Dean. “What does it matter,
anyway?" Cas asks, crossing his arms defensively. Dean clenches his jaw,
refusing to answer. This will not be the way he tells Cas, Dean furious and Cas
reeking like prostitution. Dean refuses, and Cas gets even more pissed off.
"You know what, Dean," Cas says finally, his voice angry but controlled. "I
don’t want to be around you right now.”
     “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
     “What is that supposed to mean?” They are gravitating towards one another.
They are always gravitating.
     “It means you’ve been so stuck up her ass that you haven’t seen your best
friend in days.”
     “She’s my girlfriend, Dean. Of course I’m going to spend time with her.
You were always stuck up Lisa’s ass when you were together. How can you be mad
at me for wanting to see Meg?”
     “Do you see Lisa? Have you seen me ditching you for her?”
     “Is that what this is, Dean?” Cas’ voice raises a decibel. “You think I’m
ditching you?”
     “Yes! I-” but then Dean is dragging Cas in by the bare of his shoulders
and kissing him, open-mouthed and desperate and needy. Cas kisses him back
fiercely, his hands wild and frantic, his tongue demanding, but then everything
is gone as Cas shoves him away roughly, eyes shining.
     “No, damn it!” Cas spits, eyes blazing and shiny. “You can't just do
that!" Cas shouts, hands flying rapidly around his head as he screams. "You
can't just make me all angry, and then kiss me like that will make it okay. You
can’t! It doesn’t make it better, Dean!” Cas takes a breath, his chest heaving,
his hands shaking. “I knowyou, Dean. This isn’t about bringing Meg into the
tree house, but you won't talk to me so I can find out what the fuck's wrong!
So when you’re ready to tell me about what your problem really is, I’ll be
here—like I’ve always been. Until then, just stay the hell away from me because
I can’t deal with your bullshit today.” Cas turns away and leaves Dean to stare
after him because Cas is right, and they both know it. It’s not about Meg and
the treehouse. It’s about seeing how muchhe needs Casand how little Cas needs
him. Dean walks home with anger barely pushing down the hurt slicing through
his veins.
     Dean spends the rest of the week sulking. He watches Cas when he swears he
isn’t. He thinks about Cas when he wishes he weren’t. He pouts. He grumbles. He
watches Game of Thrones alone—though Cas does text him before the premier
asking if he wants to watch together, and Dean, because he's a sulking bitch,
ignores him. He gets on everyone’s nerves, and by the end of the week, he is
ready to go crawling back to Cas. So he goes to Cas' house and knocks on the
window, all to no answer, and not because Cas is mad at him. No, there is
silence because Cas is gone, but Dean knows exactly where he is. Dean goes to
the treehouse, and sure enough, the lights up top are ablaze.
     Dean climbs the ladder slowly, knocking on the floor before he pops in.
Cas is sitting in the beanbag chair, a book propped open on his knee. He
glances up when Dean crawls in, but his eyes go straight back down to his book.
     “Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs, sitting in the hole with his legs dangling
below. Cas doesn’t respond. “I want to apologize.”
     “Great. Sit down. You can write me an essay about how sorry you are.” Cas
never looks up from his books.
     “Come on, Cas,” Dean says, pushing himself up and crossing the small house
to Cas. He kneels before him, laying his hands against Cas’ knees. Cas’ eyes
stay down, so Dean reaches out and lifts Cas’ chin. Their eyes meet, and it is
the fire and ice their relationship has always been. “It wasn’t about Meg,”
Dean admits quietly, and Cas nods, his chin still in Dean’s palm.
     “I know. I just can’t figure out what it was.”
     “Well, it sort of was her. She’s terrible, Cas. I hate her.” He was trying
for humor, but there’s too much truth in it to ring playful. Dean drops his
hand and stands, turning his back to Cas and facing the stream below them. When
Cas speaks, his voice is angry again.
     “I’m getting really tired of you talking about her like that,” Cas growls,
tossing his book aside and standing. “If this isn’t about her, leave her out of
it.”
     “Of course it’s about her, Cas!” Dean explodes, and from there, Dean knows
he’s a goner. “She came in here and said what I couldn’t and you’re so damn
happy and I wanted that! I wanted you! I wanted you to stay!”
     “Well then why are you mad at me?! I didn’t know you wanted me to stay!
You said it was just supposed to be fun! No strings attached and purely
physical. I thought it was all I was going to get, so of courseI turned to
someone else, someone who wanted to be with me!” Dean turns, eyes blown wide as
he takes in Cas’ anger.
     “Are you kidding?! How could you be so goddamned blind? Honestly!” Dean
puts a hand to his head and wipes angrily down his face. “I came out to Sam for
you! I broke up with Lisa for you! How could you think I didn’t want to be with
you?”
     “I’m not like you, Dean! People don’t just, just fall all over themselves
wanting to be with me! I’ve never had anyone want me! How the fuck was I
supposed to know the difference?”
     “You should have known! I gave everything for you!” Dean is staring at the
creek, hands on his hips and back to Cas. He takes a moment to breathe, to push
down the tears. The anger is gone from his voice when he continues. “I’d give
anything for you…We said it would be purely physical, and I messed it up, Cas.
I fucked it up like I fuck everything up.” Dean shoves his hands deep in his
pocket. “And I…It’s just…we started this thing, and it was great. It was
getting to have you in all the ways I’ve ever wanted. I was getting to hold you
and kiss you and it was great, but it was never supposed to be more than
sex…and I fucked it up.” Dean hears Cas before he feels him, but soon enough,
those long, lean arms are roping around Dean’s middle and that face is pressing
between his shoulder blades.
     “You really fucked it up,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels a million pounds
lift off his chest. He knows he’s forgiven. He pushes out a broken laugh. He
drops his arms from his hips, fingers winding between Cas’.
     “I fucked it up," Dean agrees, squeezing Cas' fingers before continuing,
"But I want this, Cas. I want you. I want more than just us fooling around.”
Cas moves his face from between Dean’s shoulder blades to prop his chin on
Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns his head, his cheek brushing Cas nose.
     “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Dean,” Cas whispers, stretching out to kiss
Dean’s cheek. Dean turns and hooks his hands around Cas’ middle, bringing their
foreheads together.
     “Really?” Dean asks, nosing against Cas. Cas laughs.
     “Yes, Dean.You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” Dean leans forward and kisses
Cas. He can’t help it. "I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry for reacting the
way I did after the bathroom thing...I just didn't want to hope. I'm really,
really sorry about Meg...You were trying to tell me that day, weren't you?"
     "Yeah," Dean says softly, kissing Cas' forehead again. "I wanted to tell
you sooner, but then I got nervous and started rambling and then she showed
up."
     "I'm so sorry, Dean...I don't even know what I was doing with her. I guess
I was just trying to figure out how I was supposed to get along without you."
     "Without me?" Dean questions, rubbing slow circles low into Cas' spine.
     "Well, yes. I knew we couldn't do this 'friends with benefits' stuff
forever. I've seen the movies. It was either going to end here," Cas pauses to
kiss Dean, and when he pulls away, his eyes are incredibly sad as he thinks of
the other possibility. "Or with us apart, and I mean really apart. I think I
was just trying to figure out if I would ever be happy without you."
     "And? What did you find out?"
     "That I will never be okay without you, ever." Cas smiles at Dean softly,
and so what if Dean can't help but kiss him again? Cas is his now. Really and
truly his. "That day you found us in the treehouse was the third time we'd
tried having sex. I could never get it up for her." Dean smiles and nods. He
had similar issues with Lisa back when they were together, but Dean only kisses
Cas again.
     “I’m sorry I said all that about her,” Dean says softly when they pull
away, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair. “Really, I am, but Meg’s gotta
go.” Dean smiles and kisses Cas’ laughing mouth.
     “Deal,” Cas agrees, reeling Dean in by his hair and kissing him. They stay
that way for a while, kissing lazily and feeling each other like they always
have. When they finally decide that they’ve had enough, Dean kisses his new
boyfriend and leads him home, kissing him again before finally letting him go
and grinning all the way to his room. Sam pokes his dorkish head in after
while, catches sight of Dean’s dopey grin, and throws his hands up in victory.
     “Thank God!” he cheers, and Dean barely has the malicious energy to throw
a pillow at him before he is back into that dopey state.
     The next morning, he picks Cas up exactly the same as he always does, but
everything is different now. Now, when Cas gets in the car, he sits in the
middle, and when they are out of Ms. Milton's sight, Cas leans over and kisses
Dean sloppily.
     “Hey, watch the road!” Sam cries when Dean begins to swerve in the next
lane. Dean breaks away from Cas and tosses Sam a wink, throwing an arm around
Cas’ shoulders and pulling him close. “You guys are gross,” Sam snorts, turning
to the window and watching the trees pass with a small smile.
     “So, boyfriend, what do you want to do tonight?” Dean asks, pulling Cas
closer and cherishing the hand Cas rests on his thigh.
     “My mom is working late, and Anna is going to Rachel’s. We can go hang out
at my house.”
     “I hope by ‘hang out’ you mean crazy amounts of making out and shower blow
jobs,” Dean says, turning and batting his eyelashes at Cas.
     “Dean!” Sam squeals, slamming his hands over his ears and turning ten
shades of pink. Cas kisses Dean’s cheek.
     “Of course it means shower blow jobs,” Cas assures, turning back to the
road with a smile.
     The school day does not pass fast enough, but when the day does decide to
end, he takes Cas by the elbow and rushes him to the car, barely remembering to
load up Sammy before they’re speeding away towards Cas’ house. Dean is so
excited that he literally puts Sam out at the end of Cas’ driveway and pulls
Cas from the car.
     They fall through the door with their tongues in each other’s mouths,
hands wandering free and sliding under shirts and down into pants. Dean groans,
pushing Cas against the wall, grinding his hips against Cas’ and swallowing the
moan Cas gives for his efforts.
     “Uh,” a new voice sounds, pulling them apart with the utterance.
     “Anna,” Cas groans, putting his head back on Dean’s shoulder. “I thought
you were going to Rachel’s.” Anna hikes her bag higher on her shoulder.
     “Hi, Dean,” Anna says, tossing Dean a wave.
     “Anna,” Dean says, his whole face ablaze with mortification and a small
smile.
     “Well, I am going to Rachel’s, however, I thought I might need clothes, so
I came home only to see my brother canoodling his best friend. Thank God, by
the way. I’ve about had enough of you two idiots being all woe-is-me. Mom will
be back by nine, so don’t let her see you. Later guys. No sex unless it’s safe
sex!” Anna pushes past them and slams the door behind her. Cas huffs out a
laugh, putting his head in the crook of Dean’s neck.
     “Holy shit,” Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around Cas and kissing his
hair.
     “You can say that again.”
     “Holy shit," he says, grinning widely at Cas. Cas merely rolls his eyes
and kisses the corner of that grin.
     "Do you want to move this party to my room?” Cas asks, leaning up and
nipping at Dean's neck. Dean nods furiously, leaning away and sealing Cas' lips
against his own. They kiss frantically, but then Cas is pulling away and taking
Dean’s hand. They find themselves stretched out naked on Cas’ bed in no time.
     “Cas,” Dean moans, threading his fingers into Cas’ hair. “Cas, fuck me,”
Dean moans, pulling Cas closer and sucking his way down his neck.
     “Are you sure?” Cas asks, pulling away and leaving Dean to whine.
     “Yes,” Dean hisses, tugging gently on Cas’ hair to bring him back to his
mouth.
     “It’s my first time, Dean,” Cas whispers, pulling away to watch Dean.
     “Do you not want to?” Dean asks, his confidence deflating.
     “What? No, of course, I do!” Cas sits back on his knees, and Dean follows,
taking Cas’ face in his hands concernedly.
     “Babe, what’s wrong?” Dean asks softly, stroking his thumb over Cas’
stubble.
     “Nothing, it’s just...I always imagined you inside of me for our first
time. That’s silly and it shouldn’t matter, I know, just as long as it’s you
and me, but…I’ve never done this before, any of it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Dean smiles softly.
     “I want you, so much, Cas, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, ever.
I also want your first time to be as perfect as you’ve ever imagined it, so
we’ll do whatever you want. Say the word, Cas," Dean promises Cas with a smile,
ducking his head to catch Cas’ eye. Cas gives a small smile in return, leaning
forward and kissing Dean. “But if it’s just that you’ve never topped," Dean
continues when they pull apart a bit. "Don’t worry. I trust you. This way, we
can be virgins together.”
     “Okay,” Cas whispers softly, kissing Dean again, running his hand over his
shoulder and down his side, causing a rash of goosebumps to errupt on Dean's
skin. When they break away, Cas slides his hand down and down and down until
the pad of his finger is brushing against Dean’s hole. Dean puts his head back
and tries not to groan. The heat of Cas’ chest against his disappears as he
shifts towards Dean’s pelvis. When he gets there, he presses a soft kiss to
Dean’s hipbone, noses his way down the length of Dean’s cock, and licks over
Dean’s balls before his tongue is pushing against Dean’s rim.
     “Shit,” Dean hisses, closing his eyes and trying to think through the
relentless push and swirl of Cas’ tongue. Cas eats him slowly, lapping at his
insides again and again just because Dean wants him to. Eventually, he removes
his tongue and pushes a tentative finger inside. Dean hisses again, this time
recoiling slightly.
     “Does it hurt?” Cas asks eyes flicking up to Dean’s concernedly.
     “Nah, it just burns a little. Keep going,” Dean says, with a nod. Cas
watches him a moment longer before continuing to stretch Dean. He pushes his
finger in a little further, twisting and hooking until he brushes across the
small mound inside Dean, feeling him gasp beneath him. “Feels good,” Dean
murmurs, rolling his head back against the pillows. Cas smiles and brushes a
kiss against the inside of Dean’s thigh.
     “Dean,” Cas whispers, brushing his finger across Dean’s prostate again,
making him jerk. Dean hums an affirmative, and Cas adds another finger. “I love
you,” he murmurs, and Dean laughs.
     “You’re already in my pants, Cas. You don’t have to say that,” Dean huffs,
grinning down to Cas.
     “I’m serious, Dean. I’m in love with you.” Dean closes his eyes, Cas’
fingers still moving slowly in and out of him, stretching him steadily for Cas’
cock. He loves Cas. He knows that, beyond a shadow of a doubt. They've always
been Cas and Dean, Dean and Cas. Never would you find one without the other,
and never would you want to. Dean loves Cas, but Cas can’tlove him. Cas is too
good, too kind, and he is too wonderful for Dean. Dean is not good. He is not
kind, and he is not worthy. There’s no way Cas can love him. Then Cas adds
another finger, and the moment gets sorted away to deal with later.
     “Christ, Cas,” Dean growls, burying a hand in Cas’ hair and pressing down
onto his fingers. Cas sighs against Dean’s thigh, partially because Dean
wouldn’t say he loved him and partially because Dean is gloriously hot around
his fingers. He brushes against Dean’s prostate once again, stretching him wide
before kissing his way back up to Dean’s mouth.
     “You’re so good for me, baby,” Cas murmurs, brushing a kiss across Dean’s
lips and hitting the good spot with his fingers. Dean arches up beneath him,
and Cas uses the moment to slip an arm beneath him. “Are you sure you want
this?” Cas asks, because Dean’ ass is giving easily, and Cas may be mostly a
virgin, but he knows Dean is ready.
     “More than anything,” Dean whispers, sweat pooling on his chest, against
his spine. Cas stares at Dean for a moment longer before nodding and slowly
pulling his fingers from Dean. Dean swallows heavily, but Cas’ eyes never leave
his, not even as he fumbles around for a condom, not even as he puts it on, not
even as he lubes it up, returning a finger to Dean’s hole to slick that up with
more than spit. His eyes never once leave Dean’s. Not when Cas hooks Dean’s leg
high around his waist, and definitely not when he lines the head of his cock up
with Dean’s hole.
     “It’s okay,” Dean assures, reaching up and threading a hand through Cas’
hair, pulling their foreheads flush together. Cas blinks, kisses Dean once
again and pushes in slowly, a shaky breath leaving him.
     “Dean,” he breathes when he is fully seated inside of him.
     “M’ right here. I got you, Cas,” Dean mutters against the side of Cas’
neck. He starts slowly, rocking his hips back and forth rolling against Dean
with every thrust. Dean’s eyes are screwed tight, hands gripping Cas’ arms, his
back, his hair, his ass like he’s got nothing else in the world to hold on to.
     “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his hips stilling slowly, drawing a whine out
of Dean.
     “Please, Cas,” Dean moans against the side of Cas’ neck. “Don’t stop,” so
Cas doesn’t. He moves against Dean, inside Dean, sweat slicking the slide of
their bodies. The only things either of them can hear is the moans of the other
and their own heart pounding inside their chests. Cas’ rhythm picks up
steadily, going faster and harder and earning filthy moans for his efforts.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans, lifting his hips so that Cas’ every thrust hits
against his prostate. Cas licks the sweat away from Dean’s neck and pulls a
hand around front to grip Dean’s cock. He doesn’t give Dean a moment to ease
into it. No, he just starts jerking Dean in time with the thrusting of his
hips, hand clenched sure and tight and steady.
     With every single thrust of Cas’ hips hitting his prostate, Dean knows it
won’t take long. Just a few more seconds… Cas senses that Dean is close and
picks up the pace, twisting his wrist and swiping his palm over Dean’s head.
     “Holy fuck,” Dean grunts, his come shooting out over both of their chests
and stomachs. He lets out a breathy little laugh at the release.
     “I meant it, Dean,” Cas huffs after a moment, his hips slamming harder and
harder, faster and faster.
     “Not the time,” Dean grunts in response, bringing his forehead against the
curve of Cas’ shoulder in his state of sated bliss.
     “Please, Dean,” Cas says, whines, begs. “Just say it for me. Please. I
need it. You don’t even have to mean it.” He sounds wrecked, impossibly so.
Dean pulls away from Cas’ shoulder to stare into his eyes. The rhythm of his
hips falters, and for a disappointing second, Dean thinks Cas won’t need Dean’s
love after all. “Please,” Cas sobs, now looking as wrecked as he sounds.
     “I love you, Cas,” Dean says, his voice impossibly soft, impossibly
tender, impossibly sincere, but apparently, it is enough. The moment after the
words leave Dean’s lips, Cas is moaning into Dean’s shoulder, sobbing against
him, arms clenched tight as though Dean would ever walk away, as though he ever
could. “Shh,” he croons, rubbing Cas’ back through his orgasm. “I've got you,
babe.”
     When it is over, Cas sags against Dean, wilting slowly inside of him,
Dean’s come slowly cooling between them. Dean lets him, holding his boyfriend
close to his chest and staring up at the ceiling, uncaring to the nastiness of
this post sex state. Dean stares up at that ceiling for an eternity.
     “Cas,” Dean whispers, lips brushing his clammy forehead. Cas doesn’t
answer; he’s probably already asleep. “I meant it too,” he whispers, arms
tightening around Cas. A long moment passes, and in that moment, Dean sees
that, yes, Cas is asleep. Dean lets out the breath he had been holding and
settles himself down for a good night’s sleep.
     “Good,” Cas whispers, right as the world slips away from Dean.
***** Chapter 8 *****
     The time flies by. Day in and day out, Cas and Dean are the dynamic duo.
Dean keeps refusing Lisa’s requests, Cas keeps fending off Meg’s advances, they
keep falling in love, and it’s great. It’s magical. It’s everything either of
them could have ever asked for. It is the sun in their sky and the grass on
their ground and the air in their lungs. They fight, sure, like every healthy
couple fights, but they always go back to one another. Cas has never been
happier. Dean has never felt better. Dean is head over heels in love with his
best friend, and he’s not afraid to show it…except to his dad…and Cas’ mom…and
the general public.
     So...their parents still don’t know, and it makes their dating a lot
harder. Even so, they manage, and soon, winter is here, wrapping around them
like a warm quilt of promise to begin each day.
     “Cas,” Dean groans, rolling gently onto his sleeping boyfriend. Dean knows
they have the house to themselves, for Gabe is away at college while Anna and
Ms. Milton are visiting family up north for the holidays. “Caaassss,” Dean
whines, bouncing until Cas’ eyes snap open to glare at Dean.
     “Dean Winchester, so help me, if you don’t leave me the hell alone, I will
kick your ass to the curb,” Cas growls around the pillow smashed to his face.
     “Grumpy pants in the morning, are we?” Dean says, mouthing along Cas’ neck
and exposed shoulders, back and glorious ass. Cas grumbles again, but Dean is
not convinced, especially with the way Cas is writhing beneath him, spreading
his legs and arching his ass up to meet Dean’s nipping and licking mouth. Dean
bites Cas’ ass cheek before lapping his tongue along the bite to soothe it. He
then licks broad stripes against the underside curve of Cas’ ass, where Cas'
cheek meets his leg. He makes it to the middle and laps at Cas’ hole, earning
himself a whine from Cas.
     The first time Dean made love to Cas was weeks ago, mere days after their
first time period. Cas was a whimpering mess, and Dean decided that he rather
liked seeing Cas come undone beneath him, almost as much as he liked seeing Cas
come undone above him. So Dean takes hold of Cas’ hips and pushes his tongue
inside him, savoring the whimper Cas lets out. From there, Dean stretches him
slowly, first with his tongue, then with his fingers, pulling him apart until
Cas is nothing but a writhing mess beneath him.
     “Dean, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he chants, fingers holding tight to the
sheets and spreading wider for Dean. Dean has three fingers inside of him,
brushing against his prostate again and again.
     “I will, baby,” Dean croons, rolling Cas gently so they are face to face
and slipping his tongue out to lap at the head of Cas’ cock. Cas whines and
jerks his hips.
     “Please,please,Dean.” Cas is whining, gripping tight to the sheets, and
Dean knows he is nearly out of his mind. Dean doesn’t relent though. He keeps
stretching him hot and slow, never stopping sucking Cas' cock down his throat
just for kicks. “Dean, please, please. I’m ready. I swear, I'm ready," Cas
whines on repeat, but Dean thinks he’s just a little cockslut who'd say
anything if it meant Dean fucking him sooner. When Dean feels Cas is acceptably
stretched and wrecked enough to continue, Dean pulls off and out, savoring the
whimper Cas lets out at the loss. He watches Cas lay there, eyes blissed shut
and chest heaving as Dean rolls on a condom and slicks himself with lube.
     “Ready, Cas?” Dean asks, leaning close and nosing against Cas’ neck. Cas
lets out a huff of air that Dean thinks is supposed to be a laugh.
     “Are you fucking kidding?” Cas asks, finally relinquishing his hold on the
sheets and bringing his hands up along Dean’s sides. Dean grins and kisses his
boyfriend, threading his fingers through Cas’ hair.
     “Alright,” Dean murmurs, pulling back and lining his cock up with Cas’
tight hole before pushing slowly past the ring of muscle, letting out a shaky
exhale for every millimeter he feels Cas around him. He feels Cas, despite the
shaking of his hands, relax beneath him, allowing Dean complete access. “Fuck,”
he hisses when he is fully buried in Cas. His hands are threaded through Cas’,
his forehead resting on Cas' shoulder as he reigns the control it takes not to
slam into Cas again and again because he’s so fucking hot and tight.
     “Dean,” Cas whimpers, and that’s all it takes for Dean to decide control
is overrated. He pulls his hips out slowly, giving Cas moment to prepare before
he slams back forward, moaning into Cas’ neck. Dean thrusts into him again and
again, holding tight to Cas’ fingers, his mouth opened against Cas’ neck. Dean
can feel Cas’ ragged breathing, his cock rubbing between their stomachs. Dean
knows neither of them will last much longer.
     “Cas, I want you to come with me,” Dean gasps, pulling away slightly to
stare into Cas’ sex-crazed eyes. Cas nods rapidly, his lips parted and panting.
Dean untwines one of their hands and reaches between them to stroke Cas. He
never tears his eyes from Cas’, even as his rhythm stutters and the heat in his
gut reaches into overwhelming territory. One last brush of Cas’ prostate has
Cas coming over Dean’s hand and stomach, eyes squeezing shut as his body
spasms. The sight of Cas falling to pieces, along with the tight clench and hot
promise of his orgasm, sends Dean coming right after him, his forehead falling
against Cas’ shoulder when he’s got nothing left.
     He lays there on top of Cas for a long while, breathing in the scent of
sex and Cas, enjoying Cas' rubbing fingers against his scalp and through his
hair. Eventually, he rolls off of him, his wilting dick sliding free as well,
causing a soft whine to tear through them both. He sits up and begins the
meticulous and monotonous project of his and Cas' clean-up. Eventually, he lays
back down and draws Cas close, an easy arm coming up to wrap around his
shoulders.
     “Babe, Christmas is in like four days,” Dean says, holding tight to Cas,
pressing kisses into his hair.
     “Yes,” Cas murmurs, his lips brushing against Dean’s still sweaty chest.
Dean knows Cas is pressed close so that he can hear Dean’s heartbeat drumming
against his ribs.
     “Is there anything you want?” Dean asks, looking down but finding himself
only able to see Cas’ dark head of hair.
     “Nothing I don’t already have,” Cas says, kissing Dean’s breastbone
gently.
     “Come on, Cas. This is our first Christmas together as a couple. I want it
to be special.” Dean rubs slow circles into Cas’ back, his lips playing gently
in that dark tuft of hair. Eventually, Cas props up on Dean’s chest, chin
digging into his sternum and eyes burning holes.
     “You know what I want for Christmas?” Cas murmurs, reaching up and pushing
a hand through Dean’s hair.
     “Mmm, do tell,” Dean says with a grin.
     “I want you,” he says, stretching up to kiss Dean's lips. Dean grins when
they separate.
     “You’re being a huge dork right now,” he deems, still rubbing those big,
warm circles into Cas’ back. Cas rolls his eyes and lays his head back on his
boyfriend’s chest.
     “Really, Dean. I want us to be able to be together like a real couple. I
want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to be able to kiss your
cheek in front of my mom. I want to be able to tell my brother how much you
mean to me.”
     “Don’t be ridiculous, Cas,” Dean murmurs, a dark, slow sadness filling his
chest.
     “You asked what I wanted…that’s it.”
     “You know that can’t happen, baby, for your sake and mine.”
     “I hate it, Dean. I hate that everyone else gets to be with the one they
love, and I don’t.” Cas huffs irritably, and Dean smiles.
     “Babe,” he prompts, squeezing Cas a bit tighter. “I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, but I’m right here. Yours for the taking.” Cas turns again, locking
eyes with Dean.
     “You’re right,” he murmurs, stretching forward and kissing Dean again.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
     “No, I understand. You don’t know how many times I’ve watched you being a
dork in public.” Cas pushes Dean's face away playfully, a grin on his face.
“And when I watch you,” Dean continues seriously. “It takes everything in meto
keep from kissing you. I’d change it if I could, Cas. I’d make my mom and my
dad switch places because she would go beyond absolutely adoring and loving
you. Not only that, but she’d be proud of me for finding anyone who can put up
with me like you do.” Cas presses a soft kiss against Dean’s chest. “Then I’d
give youa better mom, one who would accept you regardless of your sexuality.”
Cas pushes closer against Dean. “I’d change it if it were up to me. I’d change
it in a heartbeat…but it isn’t. All we’ve got is a bedroom when no one’s home.
You deserve so much more than that, Cas, but...it’s all I have to offer.”
     “It’s enough,” Cas whispers, and in that moment, it really feels as though
it might be.
     They lay there for a while, lazily kissing and holding until Dean decides
he must eat. Then they pull on clothes and pad into the kitchen, eating cereal
like it is the breakfast of champions and laughing around the mouthfuls they
take.
     “I love you,” Cas murmurs, a smile ghosting across his lips as he looks at
his boyfriend, milk dripping down his chin and hair askew from Cas' hands. Dean
slurps and swallows.
     “I love you too, you dork,” he says, grinning fondly.
     After leaving Cas’ house that night, Dean takes a long walk, wandering
aimlessly around town before returning to Sceadan Street. His eyes ghost over
the sign, like it usually does, but this time, something about it catches his
eye. It is an unspectacular sign, the chipping, forest green paint giving way
to the slate-gray metal.Sceadan…Dean grins and jogs back to his garage. A few
moments later, he is staring back up at the sign, tools in hand and an itch to
take.
===============================================================================
     “So, Sammy,” Dean says later, his stolen sign hidden between his mattress
and box spring. “What did you get Jess for Christmas?” They are sitting in
Dean’s room, backs pressed against the wall and talking like they haven’t seen
each other in years, and really, they haven’t. Sure, they’ve technically seen
each other; they've teased, as usual, but it’s been months since they have done
more than co-exist in the same space. Sam lays his shaggy head back against the
wall and stares to the ceiling.
     “Nothing…I have no idea what so ever,” Sam says defeatedly. “I am the
worst boyfriend ever.”
     “Nah…I got Cas a street sign,” Dean says with a small laugh. Dean, despite
his low sense of self-worth, honestly believes Cas will love his gift.
     “At least you got him something.Jess wants to exchange gifts on Christmas
Eve, and I have nothing. I want it to be perfect for her.”
     “Maybe you should bang her,” Dean says teasingly. “Best gift I’ve ever
gotten.”
     “Come on, Dean,” Sam says with a roll of his eyes, but his cheeks have
heated, giving Dean the satisfaction he was seeking. “She’s too good for that.”
     “She said she’s too good for you?” Dean asks incredulously. Not only is he
offended for the sake of his brother, but he is disbelieving that sweet Jess
would say such a thing.
     “No,” Sam dismisses quickly with a wide wave of his hand. “I said she’s
too good for me.”
     “Oh, shut up, Sam,” Dean says as he rolls his eyes. “You have no reason to
feel not good enough. You’re the best kid I know.”
     “Yeah, because I have a whole lot of reasons to feel good enough,” Sam
says with a biting snort. “We Winchesters sure know how to instill a sense of
self-worth into our kids.” Sam turns away from Dean, knee bouncing and tongue
sucking at teeth to keep from sniffing.
     “Hey, Dad is doing the best he can,” Dean says, ever one to defend his
father.
     “You’re right. Passing out on the couch is the best he can do.”
     “Dude. What is your problem?” Dean spits, jerking Sam’s shoulder so they
are face to face. Dean is shocked to find hot tears welling in Sam’s eyes. Sam
chews on his lip a moment before speaking, his pubescent voice breaking more
than usual.
     “Her birthday was this month…and I forgot,” Sam whispers, unable to hold
his brothers eyes for the shame in him. “I forgot Mom’s birthday,” he gets out,
and the tears tear their way through him, racking his lanky body with sobs.
     “Sammy,” Dean croons, reaching out and pulling his baby brother to his
chest. Sam cries there like he hasn’t in years, arms clinging to Dean and snot
soiling his shirt. “It’s okay,” Dean assures, but it only makes Sam cry harder.
     “No it’s not! How could it be alright? She would neverhave forgotten my
birthday,” Sam cries, spit flinging from his lips and spattering into Dean’s
shirt. “I miss her so much,” he says, then apparently, he tires of talking,
instead taking to only sobbing into his brother’s shoulder. Dean just holds him
tight, running gentle hands through his hair and rubbing soothing circles into
his back like he barely remembers his mom doing for him. Eventually, Sam’s sobs
slow, and after a few moment of mere clinging, he pulls away, wiping at his
eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing out a broken and fake laugh. “I’m
thirteen years old. I shouldn’t be sobbing like that.”
     “It’s okay to cry, Sammy,” Dean tells him, shifting his shoulders against
the cooling tears and spit and snot his baby brother laid into his shoulder.
Sam snorts another half-laugh and shifts back on Dean’s bed. “Listen," Dean
continues slowly. "I know you miss her. I miss her too, believe me.”
     “You do?” Sam asks, turning with wide eyes to his brother.
     “Of course. Everyday.”
     “You never mention her,” Sam murmurs, dropping his eyes to his fumbling
hands in his lap.
     “Well yeah. It’s hard for me to talk about her…” Dean shrugs and tries to
shake away the feeling of sadness rising up in him at the thought of her.
     “I don’t even remember her,” Sam admits quietly, almost ashamedly, and
Dean smiles.
     “She was wonderful. She loved you like crazy.” Sam offers a small smile,
but his eyes are still on his hands. “Hey, Sam…” Dean starts, rubbing the back
of his own neck gently. “I just want you to know...I tried. I really did.” Dean
looks down to his feet, stretched off the edge of the bed and kicking
anxiously. Sam stares at him, confusion on his face before he gets it.
     “Dean, what are you even talking about?” Sam asks, ducking his head to
catch Dean’s eye. “You’re the best mom/dad anyone has ever had. You’ve given up
so much for me.”
     “It was nothing,” Dean mutters, though in fact it was. It was losing sleep
as a five year old to soothe Sammy’s nightmares. It was hours sitting in a
bathroom floor as a six year old to teach Sammy to use the toilet. It was
starting work from the first moment he could to get some money for Sam’s
college. It was kissing scraped knees, killing imaginary monsters, sacrificing
the last bowl of Lucky Charms.
     “Yes, it was. You raised me practically on your own.”
     “We had Dad,” Dean defends weakly. “Uncle Bobby was here when he could
be.”
     “Yeah and Dad was always either too drunk or not drunk enough. I mean,
Bobby helped where he could, but he didn’t get his job here until just a few
years ago and by then you had already raised me. I don’t know how I’m ever
going to be able to repay you.” Sam is gazing at his brother with such pride
and adoration that Dean barely manages to speak confidently around the blush.
     “You know what you can do to repay me? Take Jess out for ice cream. Go to
college. Be happy, for Christ’s sake. If you really want to repay me, you’ll
take every opportunity ever passed your way.” Sam watches Dean for a long
moment, those big puppy dog eyes staring up at him.
     “Deal,” Sam agrees, and a weight lifts off Dean’s chest.
     “I’m gonna hold you to that, you little bitch,” Dean assures, reaching out
and punching Sam’s shoulder gently.
     “Jerk,” Sam replies, a grin on his face before he scoots to the edge and
tosses a wink back at Dean.
     The next morning, Dean is pulled from sleep by John’s gruff voice yelling
through the halls, heard even over his blaring Pink Floyd. His first thought,
as it often is, is Sam, and in seconds, he has ripped the headphones from his
head and torn out into the hall wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. He
heads straight for his little brother's room, but when he gets there, he sees
Sam struggling to get out from under his covers and the weight of sleep. John
is nowhere in sight.
     “Wha’s goin’ on?” Sam mutters, pushing his sleep-matted hair out of his
face with his hand.
     “You got dried drool on your chin, doofus,” Dean says, rolling his eyes
and turning away from Sam, his heart rate skipping back down to normal now that
he knows his baby brother is safe. He scrubs a hand through his hair and pads
off to see what’s gotten John’s drunken undies in a twist, following the sound
all the way to the front door. When he gets there, he sees that John is
standing in the threshold, arguing with Bobby.
     “Bobby?” Dean asks, cocking his head to the side. John and Bobby don’t
usually argue. They have been best friends since before Dean was born, and for
a long while, they had much the relationship that Dean and Cas have now, minus
the mind-blowing gay sex. Bobby has always been the one to pull John back when
he got too close to destruction, the one to block a punch meant for one of the
boys, the one to talk some sense into them all when they need it. He is
normally abundantly patient with John, giving him chance after chance, time
after time.
     “Hey, son,” Bobby says, cutting John a glare before pushing past him and
into the living room where Dean stands. Bobby opens his arms for a hug, and his
scruffy beard feels funny against Dean's bare shoulder.
     “Bobby, damn it! You can’t just push into my house and demand that I let
you stay here,” John half-shouts, but he sounds more irritated than angry.
     “How many times have I let you and the boys stay at my house?” Bobby asks,
pulling away from Dean and glaring at John. Judging by the harsh silence that
follows, John knows the answer just as much as Dean does, the answer being any
time they ever needed to. “You’re saying I can’t stay here for three daysso I
can spend Christmas with you and the boys?” John glowers, and Bobby knows he
has won. So in semblance of his victory, he turns away from John. “Your bother
up?” he asks Dean, and Dean nods. “Good,” and Bobby is off moving towards Sam’s
room. Dean watches him walk away for a moment before turning his eyes back to
John. He looks seriously hungover, but as far as Dean can tell, the only
alcohol in his system is left from what he ingested yesterday.
     “What?” John spits, and Dean drops his eyes.
     “Nothing, sir,” he murmurs and turns away from his father.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
     Over the next two days, Dean hardly has the time to sneak away and be
alone with Cas. What makes it worse is that, since his own family is away, Cas
is always there at Dean's, sitting a respectable distance away, smiling
politely at what ever Bobby says, touching Dean only what is platonically
acceptable. There's the occasional shoulder touch...the ‘accidental’ hand
brush...the discreet foot sliding up Dean’s leg under the dinner table, and all
the while Cas, hands folded innocently under his chin, carries on a perfectly
normal conversation with Bobby about something Dean is too busy trying not to
rut against Cas to listen to. It is all driving Dean relatively crazy, and when
Dean decides he can no longer take the torture of Cas being so damn close and
very obviously off-limits, he stands abruptly from the table, turning every eye
and bringing a blush to his already bothered cheeks.
     “Gotta piss,” he mutters and turns away from the table, bending awkwardly
as he does his best to hide just what a frenzy Cas’ foot has worked Dean’s dick
into. Dean half sprints, half scuttles to the bathroom, locking the door behind
him with a huff. He knows that after a while, someone will ask what is taking
him so long, and he knows after that, Cas will offer to check on him. Sure
enough, Dean hears the scrape of a chair down the hall as Cas stands and makes
his way to the bathroom. The knock comes a few seconds later, and Dean is
immediately swinging it open and jerking Cas through, promptly shutting it
behind the other boy and pinning him against it.
     "Dean,” Cas gasps in shock, but Dean swallows it down as he kisses him,
open mouthed and desperate for now, now, now. “What is it with you and
bathrooms?” Cas mutters around Dean’s lips, but Dean doesn't have time for
teasing banter.
     “Shut the fuck up. We don’t have long,” he says, pushing his hips against
Cas’, jerking Cas’ head back by the roots of his hair, and latching onto every
piece of skin the motion exposes. Dean needs Cas as hard as he is, and he needs
him there now. Cas lets out another choked squeak, hands fumbling for purchase
against Dean’s back as Dean grinds hard against him, nipping at the spot where
Cas’ neck meets his shoulder before soothing over it with his tongue. Soon
enough, Cas’ fumbling hands become demanding hands, grabbing Dean’s ass and
tugging through his hair.
     Cas lets out a groan, and Dean bites down on his shoulder to shut him the
fuck up. He gets the message, burying his face in Dean’s neck to muffle the
sound. He arches up to meet Dean’s thrusts down, and Dean is so fucking hard
that the jeans against him are deliciously painful, especially when riding
against the thick ridge in Cas’ pants. Dean drives hard against Cas, pushing
against his hips again and again, the heat in his stomach pooling rapidly. Dean
can’t help the groan that falls from between his lips, and muffled as it is by
Cas’ shoulder, it is still too loud.
     “Shut up. They’ll hear us,” Cas reminds, panting and tugging at Dean’s
hair again.
     “I know,” Dean groans, grabbing Cas’ ass to pull him up into his next
thrust. "I don't care." The risk of exposure, as always, makes it that much
more exciting. “Tell me I’m yours, Cas,” Dean growls, remembering their first
semi-public romp and squeezing the handful of firm ass he has, earning himself
a whimper from Cas.
     “You’re mine. No one else can have you. Fucking mine, you hear me?”
     “I’m fucking yours,” Dean agrees, his orgasm pushing against him. He just
needs Cas here.
     “And I’m fucking yours,” Cas grunts, and there it is. Dean bites down
against Cas’ shoulder to keep from yelling out, and a few seconds later, he
feels Cas’ head smacking into the door behind him as his own orgasm hits him.
When he feels Cas begin to crumble beneath him, Dean licks gently at the spot
he chomped down on, Cas’ hands sliding slowly out of Dean’s hair.
     “They’re going to wonder what took us so long,” Cas murmurs, planting a
gentle kiss against Dean’s shoulder.
     “Tell them I shit in my pants,” Dean offers with a snort, his fingers
still locked in Cas’ hair as he turns to kiss him.
     “I love you,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s lips, and no matter how many
times he hears Cas utter those words, his stomach still does a tiny flip. It
will probably always do that little flip to those little words.
     “You too, you dork,” Dean says, leaning back in and kissing Cas as
chastely as can be managed with come cooling in his pants. “Now get out there,
tiger,” Dean says, pushing away from the door and slapping Cas' ass as he turns
to walk away.
     “You’re coming over to my place tonight,” Cas says, and it isn’t a
question. It is a demand.
     "Anna and your mom still up north?” Dean asks, and Cas nods.
     “Yes. They aren’t coming home until tomorrow morning.”
     “Then I’ll be there,” Dean assures with a wink. “We’ll have lots of sex
where I can come in something other than my pants.”
     “You can come in mypants,” Cas offers with a wink, leaning forward to kiss
Dean again before slipping out of the door.
     “Holy shit,” Dean laughs, staring at his reflection in the bathroom
mirror. “I am so fucking lost on him,” he decides, running a hand down his face
as the excitement builds in his chest.
     The rest of dinner is damn near excruciating. Cas no longer has his foot
against Dean’s crotch; instead, it is nudging Dean’s sweetly. It makes Dean
want to hold Cas’ hand or kiss his forehead or smooth his hair down or some
other stupid coupley shit like that, which is dangerous because he’s very
likely to do all of those things without ever thinking. Even so, they make it
through, and Dean decides that, oh, well since Bobby is here to keep the drunk
and the child entertained, he'll just go to Cas’ house. Thus, they make their
escape, trying not to run but being too eager to walk.
     They barely make it through Cas' front door before they’re clinging and
kissing and pushing against each other. Dean makes quick work of urging Cas’
coat to the ground after shrugging out of his own. Their sweaters go next,
followed by their undershirts, leaving their hot-skinned chests to press
entirely together without restraint. Dean’s fingers begin to fumble blindly
with Cas’ belt, but Cas becomes a giggling mess before Dean can get the buckle
open.
     “What?” Dean asks, pulling away slightly, his fingers stuck between the
belt and the warm stretch of flesh at Cas’ waist.
     “It tickles,” Cas says with a grin. Dean stares at Cas for a long moment
before slipping his hands from beneath the band and pulling Cas closer to him
by the arch of his hipbones.
     “I’m so fucking in love with you,” Dean says before trapping Cas’ lips
with his own, leaning over the slightly shorter man.
     “Ditto,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s lips. When Dean pulls away, their
foreheads find their way together, resting with eyes closed until Cas’ spring
open. “I have your Christmas gift,” Cas says suddenly, pulling away while his
hands rest on Dean’s chest. “Let me go grab it.” Cas removes himself from
Dean’s arms, his tight little ass shaking as he walks away. Dean gets excited
just thinking about riding it later. Even so, he moves to get his own present
for Cas.
     It is wrapped in an old t-shirt of Dean’s, one he’s very likely not to get
back. He really doesn’t mind. He likes people seeing Cas in his clothes, even
if they don’t know they’re his. Cas returns just as Dean gets the bow
resituated on the fabric of the shirt. Cas approaches excitedly with a giftbag
in hand, but Dean presses his gift forward first and wraps an easy arm around
Cas’ waist as he takes it and begins to unwrap the t-shirt. “I hope you know
I’m keeping this,” Cas mutters, motioning to the shirt.
     “I would expect nothing less,” Dean says with a smile before leaning down
and pressing a soft kiss to Cas’ shoulder. When Cas gets the shirt off, he
flips the sign so he can read it, and as he does, a grin spreads across his
lips.
     “I wondered what happened to our street sign...I should have known it was
my hooligan boyfriend,” he says, turning to kiss Dean gently.
     “Do you get it?” Dean asks when they separate.
     “Yes. It’s our street, where we’ve spent our lives and fallen in love. It
has been the base of our whole world.”
     “Yes, but look at it. If you just rearrange the letters a little,” Dean
says, pointing to the chipping letters. “S-C-E-A-D-A-N becomes C-A-S-D-E-A-N.”
     “It’s an anagram,” Cas says with delight lacing his voice. “And it says
our names.” He lets out a short laugh. “I can’t believe I never noticed that.”
Dean smiles and pulls Cas closer.
     “You like it?” he asks uncertainly, ever one to be unsure of himself.
     “I love it. It’s our whole lives in a street sign,” Cas says, wrapping an
easy arm around Dean’s neck and stretching up to kiss him. Dean holds him a
little closer, parting his lips to let Cas’ roaming tongue slip inside his
mouth. When they pull apart, Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s, fingers
brushing soft patterns into his cheeks. After a while, Cas pulls away
completely and offers Dean the gift bag. Dean digs into it excitedly, and when
he gets past the last sheet of tissue paper, he finds a rectangular, wooden
frame. He pulls it out gently, and in it is a black and white picture of a
woman with a small, bundled baby in her arms. He stares at her for a long
moment, taking in the way her waving, blonde hair fades from the black and
white color scheme into a light gray. He takes in her eyes, though they are as
bright as ever, and he takes in the short sentence printed beneath the faded
picture in blocky news type. It reads, New mother Mary Winchester and her son,
Dean.
    “Cas,” Dean chokes out, tearing his eyes away from his mother to look up at
his softly smiling boyfriend.
     “You told me every picture of her burned. I wanted you to have at least
one,” he says with a shrug. Dean is looking back down at her, and she is
smiling up at him. She is beautiful. She is radiant, holding gently to the baby
in her arms.
     “How did you find this?” he asks around the lump in his throat.
     “I pulled some favors with my friends at the library.” Cas is smiling
fondly at Dean. Some favors, in reality, had been Cas bribing the librarians
onto letting him in after closing hours and upon succeeding, spending weeks
searching through multiple newspapers' new born archives. He would do it again
too, if it meant seeing Dean as happy as he looks right now.
     “Thank you, Cas,” Dean says, his voice shaking slightly. He pulls Cas to
him in a hug, burying himself in Cas’ neck, in Cas’ scent, in Cas’ existence.
Cas presses a kiss to Dean's shoulder.
     “Anything for you, Dean,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean
can do nothing to stop the tears but press his face into Cas’ neck. Cas knows
it too, because after a while of gentle fingers running through Dean’s hair,
Cas speaks to pull him from his thoughts. “Come, my love. Let’s go to my room,”
and what else can Dean do but pull himself away from Cas' neck, wipe his hands
down his face, and accept? Cas takes Dean’s hand and leads him down the hall,
pulling him to his room with a small smile. He strips down right there, giving
Dean a full view before he crawls towards him, pushing him back against the bed
and kissing him insistently. It is enough to get Dean out of his soppy and
sentimental mindset and into the mindset that his boyfriend wants to have sex
with him.
     “You’re a goddamned twink,” Dean mutters, squeezing Cas’ ass. It’s the
hottest thing Dean’s seen all day.
     “I have no idea what that means,” Cas says, sucking a trail down Dean’s
chest before stopping at the band of his jeans and pulling them down over
Dean’s hips and tossing them to the floor.
     “Means you’re hot, young, and gay,” Dean answers, shifting his hips with
the gentle rub of Cas’ hand. His jeans are elsewhere, so all he has to worry
about now is the thin layer of cotton separating them.
     “Well, then you’re a twink too,” Cas counters, crawling back up to Dean
and laying on his chest, his knee falling easily between Dean’s thighs. “I’m
assuming by ‘gay,’ you simply mean attracted to men. Bisexual counts too then.”
     “I guess,” Dean laughs, bringing an arm up to circle Cas’ shoulders and
pull him flush to his chest. “But no, I’m not a twink. Twinks are small, and
I’m not small.” Cas’ head quirks in confusion.
     “Neither am I,” he says confusedly. “I’m only slightly shorter than you,
and though my muscle mass isn’t quite as great as yours, my bone size and
structure is very similar.”
     “Shut up, Cas. It’s a good thing. Twinks are hot. You’re hot.” Dean leans
up and kisses Cas, effectively ending the conversation. Cas’ lips are
demanding, hands tugging and pressing, and Dean wants Cas inside of him right
this minute. Dean rolls them so he is pressed down the front of Cas, his thinly
sheathed cock rubbing against Cas’ bareness. Dean moves down Cas slowly,
sucking at his pulse point and licking against his collarbone, ghosting his
fingers over his ribs and swallowing every soft gasp and moan Cas lets slip
out. Soon enough, he is sucking big bruises into Cas’ hipbones and licking over
them with his tongue before sucking the head of Cas’ cock between his lips. Cas
groans at the heat, bucks up slightly into Dean’s mouth, and buries his hand
into Dean’s hair. Dean sucks him down again and again, careful to keep himself
from finishing it. He wants Cas inside of him when he comes, and when he gets
too close, Dean pulls off with a pop.
     “Dean!” Cas half-shrieks, but Dean just grins.
     “I want you to fuck me,” he says, lips brushing the shaft of Cas’ cock.
     “Yes, yes, please,” Cas says, bringing his hips up in hopes of getting
just a bit more friction with those lips.
     “Good,” Dean whispers, pressing soft kiss against Cas’ dick before
scooting back up to his mouth, lips swollen and pink. He presses down against
Cas again, knee nudging between Cas’ thighs. They kiss for a long time, rutting
slowly against each other, losing themselves in the monotony of it until Cas
slips his hand down the back of Dean’s shorts, the tip of his finger pressing
tentatively against Dean’s hole. Dean presses back against him, but Cas removes
his fingers and brings them around to Dean’s lips.
     “Get them wet,” Cas breathes, watching with lust-lidded eyes as Dean sucks
the digits into his mouth, slicking them with spit, dipping his tongue between
them, slurping all the while. When Cas pulls his hand away, a string of spit
follows him a good ways to Dean’s ass. “Take your underwear off,” Cas says, his
gruff voice sending a jolt of electricity straight down Dean’s spine to his
cock. Dean wriggles over Cas, hands trembling as he hurries to follow orders.
The minute his underwear is on the floor, Cas’ slippery hand is sliding down
between Dean’s butt cheeks and teasing at the pucker of skin between them.
     “Come on, Cas,” Dean groans, arching up against the slow rub of Cas’
fingers.
     “Foreplay is all the fun,” Cas says, pushing a finger in slowly,
tortuously.
     “I taught you that, you one-minute wonder,” Dean hisses, sucking hard on
Cas’ neck and pushing back against his finger.
     “Hurtful,” Cas mutters, hooking his finger against Dean’s prostate, making
Dean groan.
     “Stop fucking around and fuck me already,” Dean moans, so Cas slips
another finger in, now prepping him hard and fast before adding another finger,
opening him up for Cas’ cock. Dean’s dick rubs against Cas’ every time he
pushes back against Cas’ hand, driving them both half crazy. Cas’ fingers in
his ass are nice, but Dean needs more, and he needs it now. “I’m good,” he
insists, moving away from Cas’ hand. Cas huffs out a laugh, one that Dean
promptly steals with his lips. Dean feels Cas’ fingers slip from him, but he
keeps swirling his tongue against Cas’, keeps running his hands over his torso
as he feels Cas spread lube around his hole. He only stops when he hears the
crinkle of a condom wrapper.
     “Wait,” he gasps, pulling away and catching Cas’ wrists. Dean looks Cas
dead in the eye when he speaks. “I want to go bare back.” Cas’ breath hitches
in his throat.
     “You want…”
     “Yeah, Cas,” Dean says, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Cas'.
     “Okay,” Cas murmurs, staring deep into Dean’s eyes before reaching down
between them and spreading the lube over his dick. When he finishes, Dean
kisses Cas one last time before kneeling back on his knees and taking Cas’ cock
in his hand. Eyes locked with Cas, he lowers himself slowly onto it, thighs
trembling around Cas. “You’re so hot,” Cas mutters when Dean is fully seated.
Dean rolls his hips forward a bit, experimenting. He’s bottomed before, but
he’s never bottomed from the top. He decides rather quickly that he enjoys it a
whole hell of a lot. Dean rides back and forth on Cas’ cock, speeding rapidly
as his head flops back against the slide of flesh on flesh.
     “Fuck yeah, right there, Cas,” he mutters, bringing his ass down hard
against Cas’ cock. Cas’ hand are gripped tight against Dean’s thighs, his eyes
squeezed shut, his lips parted and quivering. “You like me riding your dick?”
Dean asks, leaning down and nipping against Cas’ shoulder.
     “Uh-huh,” Cas grunts hands clenching tighter around Dean’s legs.
     “Say it. Say you like me riding your cock.”
     “I fucking love you riding my cock,” Cas blurts, half crazed.
     “Yeah you do,” Dean mutters, tilting his hips so that every drive down
rubs against his prostate. “Fuck yeah you do,” Dean says, throwing his head
back again. His cock is achingly hard, rutting back and forth against Cas’
stomach. He’s torn which he wants to do more, ride Cas’ cock until he comes
untouched or jerk his meat and blow his load all over Cas’ chest in mere
minutes. He starts jerking. Dean knows the closer he gets, the louder he gets,
but they’re alone, and Cas likes em loud. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his hips
slamming down into Cas’ again and again. “I fucking love you, Cas.”
     “I love you too,” Cas promises, and Dean can feel that he’s close. Dean
picks up his speed and leans in for the kill.
===============================================================================
     For the past week, Anna has been attacked from every angle with tiny and
constantly sticky hands. They rub down her face, pull on her hair, pat against
her calf. It doesn’t matter that they have each other, or that Anna doesn’t
want them, each and every one of her little cousins want her. They want her
undivided attention, playing games with them or listening to them read or
walking to the bathroom with them. Whatever the task may be, they need her
there beside them, and the way they ask for that is with their tiny, constantly
sticky hands rubbing her face, pulling her hair, patting her leg. Anna thinks
that she has paid her dues as big cousin and deserves an easy flight home the
next morning.
     The sun is just about to set, and the children are elsewhere and self-
content for the moment. Just as Anna is about to breathe a sigh of relief, the
door to her borrowed and shared room flies open. She stops the groan slipping
between her lips when she sees that it isn’t sticky little hands coming for her
but instead, her mother’s satiny and demanding hands. They are pulling the
suitcase out from beneath the bed, throwing their things in angrily.
     “Mom?” Anna asks, sitting up on her elbows to watch.
     “Pack your things, Anna. We’re leaving right this instant,” her mother
hisses angrily, still packing the suitcase.
     “Our flight isn't until the morning.”
     “I don’t care. We’ll drive.”
     “Mom-”
     “Don’t argue with me, Anna. Just pack your things and get in the car!”
     “…yes mam.” So they pack their things and head out as the sun sinks below
the horizon. “Why did we have to leave like that?” Anna asks once their
relative’s house fades away.
     “Because Raphael wants to be called Raphaela, and my sister is fine with
that,” Anna’s mother hisses, hands visibly tightening on the steering wheel.
     “So he wants to change his name?” Anna asks, confusion riding into her
voice. Her mother shouldn't be so mad about Raphael wanting to change his name.
     “No,” her mother spits, pressing her foot down harder into the floorboard.
“He wants to change his sex.” Oh. Oh. He wants to become a she. Anna’s mouth
flutters open, fumbling for a way to tell her mother that there’s nothing wrong
with it, that if Raphael wants to be called Raphaela, its probably because he’s
always felt like a she. She deserves to be called what she wants. Anna doesn’t
say any of this though. She doesn’t know how. Her mother is not one to be told
off, so she swallows down her complaints and tries to ignore her mother’s
insults. “It’s unnatural, Anna.” You’re an asshole. “God made him a boy, and a
boy is what He intended he stay.” He put her in the wrong body. “My sister
should not condone this type of behavior." Anna becomes so angry that her ears
ring her mothers words in and out. "If any child of mine...out of the house.
That’s the problem...gays have taken over. They infiltrate our
work...next?...abominations, each and....” Go fuck yourself, Mom.
     Anna stews in silence for the rest of the drive. Anger towards her mother
is singing through her veins, ripping apart any warmth and camaraderie they may
have built over the past week together. The rest of the ride is covered in
stilted, icy silence, but to the jolt of fear Anna feels in her chest when they
arrive to Dean’s Impala in the drive, she’d almost prefer the ice.
     Anna knows that maybe they are sitting nicely, perhaps watching a movie or
playing video games. (God knows they spent enough years acting platonically
that it is familiar to them.) Then again she also knows her brother and his
horndog of a boyfriend, and whatever chance there is that they aren’tacting
coupley, there is an even greater one that they are cuddling on the couch or
fucking each other over the kitchen table.
     Anna leaps from the car, barely hearing her mother grumble about “that
Winchester boy” taking her parking space. Anna is rushing to the door, and it
is locked. She is sighing and waiting for her mother’s keys, but by then, she
cannot run to Cas in warning without arousing suspicion. All she can do is pray
that they are sitting innocently on the couch in plain view, but from the
instant Anna gets the door open, breathy moans fill the air.
     “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, but her mother is too tuned in to
the moans to scold her profanity.
     “Is he…fornicating with a woman?” She hisses, slamming the door behind her
and stepping towards Cas’ room. Clothes line the way, but crumpled on the
ground in their hurried liberation, whether they are a male’s clothes or a
female’s clothes cannot be discerned. Anna knows. She knows the leather jacket,
and the worn boots. She knows the faded plaid and the large socks.
     “I don’t think so, ma,” Anna mutters, running beside her before stepping
in front of her. “Don’t go in there,” Anna says, stretching her arms across
Cas’ closed door. Oblivious moans fill the air, and if her mother were
listening for more than sex, she would hear no female breaths, double male
grunts.
     “Anna, he is blatantlydisobeying my rules! He is supposed to be following
his code of chastity and instead, he is in there having sex with,” she pushes
past Anna and flings the door open, stunning the pair behind it. Dean whips
around, legs splayed wide over Cas’ hips, still perched like a king atop his
boyfriend. “Dean.”
Chapter End Notes
     "And Ms. Milton asked the boys to get dressed, told Cas she loved
     him, and went to make the happy couple a pie. The End." If only,
     right...
     Okay, so firstly, in re to their bareback romp, this is a very dumb
     thing, children. While I don’t want you to stress about Dean or Cas
     suffering the consequences—because they won’t in this fic—I do want
     to emphasize the fact that more times than not, there are
     consequences to having unprotected sex. Please be careful if you
     choose to partake in sexual activities. Take precautions, even if you
     think the other person—yourself too—is clean. I just cannot stress
     all the ways this could have gone wrong for the boys… Just do
     yourselves a favor and wrap it up when you aren’t 100% sure.
     Also, um...a lot of you saw this coming...it was bound to happen
     eventually. I know that doesn't get me out of the doghouse with you
     all, but I'm still sorry. There is a lot of angst up ahead, and for
     that I also apologize. Have faith that I will fix it, because I swear
     I will.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Graphic depictions of violence and raging homophobia, beware.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
     Dean rolls away immediately, swallowing the whimper and fumbling into his
jeans. Cas just lies there staring slack-jawed and horrified into his mother’s
wide eyes. The moment lasts an eternity.
     “Ms. Milton,” Dean finally whispers, anything to stop the hellish silence.
     “Not a word from you, Dean Winchester,” she spits, tearing her eyes away
from Cas to glare daggers at Dean. “From the very beginning," she pauses,
nostrils flaring in anger. "You have been nothing but a bad influence on my
son! Now you’ve got him in here...naked...filthy...rolling around like
animals!”
     “Mom,” Cas shouts, finally standing up, pulling the sheet with him to
cover himself.
     “I’ll deal with youlater,” she snaps at Cas, her eyes locked firm on Dean
as she prepares to start back in on him. “You are nothing but an ignorant
animal! Acting as though you don't know better than to pervert my son like
this! You're absolutely useless! You are an abomination!" Dean, whittling down
under her scrutiny, is not angry; he can’t even find it in himself to disagree
with her. Instead, he hears them all, all the hundreds of insults thrown at
him, people like him, over the years. Winchesters don’t tolerate queer. He is
six, staring up at his father's alcohol glazed eyes. Gays are what’s wrong with
the world.He is an elderly man walking down the street with his husband. Queers
deserve to die. He is a lesbian girl, staring into the hatedfilled eyes of her
mother.Faggots are fucking disgusting. He is back to staring at Cas' mom, heat
in his veins and in his bones. He swallows heavily, eyes falling to his bare
feet in shame.
     “Stop it,” Cas hisses, stepping between Dean and his mother. They stare at
each other for a long moment, each testing the other’s will. “Dean,” Cas says
finally, eyes still on his mother. “You should go. I’ll call you later.”
     “Cas,” Dean starts, but Cas cuts him a look that quickly kills the rest of
his argument. “Okay,” he murmurs, staring longingly at Cas like he wants to
kiss him goodbye, like he wants to take away every pain he’s ever felt, but he
leaves without another word, picking up the rest of his clothes as he walks
away.
     “You don’t get to talk to him like that,” Cas says when he hears the front
door shut. His voice is firm, resolute.
     “He’s nothing! He lets other men use him for sex! And you? You had your
penis inside of him? That’s abhorrent, Castiel! You know better than that!
He'll send you straight to Hell!” His mother’s face is the color of a tomato.
Anna is standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes, and Cas is back to
yelling in his mother’s face.
     “I love him!”
     “Love? This isn’t love! It’s sodomy!”
     “How would you know? You’ve never loved anything in your life!”
     “I love my children! I loved your father!”
     “Look how that turned out," Cas sneers with a snort. "He’s gone, and your
son's fucking another man.” His mother’s face is so contorted with anger that
he shouldn’t be so surprised when her hand slams out across his cheek, snapping
his head to the side hard enough for him to taste blood. “Hit me all you want,”
Cas mutters after the shock and the pain subside enough for him to speak. “It
doesn’t matter. I’ll still love him. I’ll still let him fuck me.” She is
stunned silent. She has no words, nothing but wide eyes telling him that he did
something right.
     “I’ll deal with this myself,” she says eventually, turning on her heel and
stomping off towards the front door. Cas watches her for a long moment, half of
him jutting his chin up and refusing to give her the reaction she clearly
wants.
     As for the rest of him, a panic begins to grow, every horrendous
possibility flashing through his mind in an endless cacophony. He sees wild
possibilities, improbable possibilities, entirely likely possibilities,
everything from her running Dean down with a baseball bat to castrating him.
The dark possibilities creep up and up and up with every step away from him she
takes. He locks eyes with Anna who has been pushed aside by their bulldozer of
a mother, tears in her eyes and hands shaking. They are both terrified and
stunned silent.
     “Wait,” Cas calls, unable to stand not knowing for another second, the
anticipation drowning him. “Where are you going?” Cas runs after his mother,
following her with half jogs and skips and fumbles. She is staring straight
ahead, head held high and gaze teary. They are almost to the front door.
     “You will not see him again, Castiel,” she says, refusing to look at him
as she closes the final few steps to the door. “And if you won’t listen to me,
perhaps Dean’s father will.” Cas’ blood turns to ice. His whole world is moving
in slow motion as she reaches for the door handle, but Cas’ mind is flying in
high speed. He sees her walking over, standing in the threshold of that little
house he’s spent half his childhood in. He sees her telling John. He sees her
wide hand motions, and he sees the anger erupt on John’s drunken face. He sees
the door between the parents slam, his mother’s face satisfied as she turns to
walk back to her own home, now clean of any discrepancies. Cas hears screaming,
crashing, a gunshot.
     He sees Dean's headstone standing cold next to his mother's.
     “No,” Cas gasps, tears in his eyes as he throws himself between his mother
and the door. “Please, no.” He is crying, shaking as though his premonition had
already happened. “Please. I’ll do anything, whatever you want, just don’t tell
John. Please.” Her eyes narrow at him, obviously unsure of why he’s crying. She
doesn’t know John like Cas does. She doesn’t know that, should John find out,
Dean would be getting off easy to walk away with all his extremities attached,
black eyes, a broken nose, and bruises all over. He would be getting off easy
to walk away alive.
     “I thought you might change your mind,” his mother says, smug and sadistic
smile on her lips. “I’m sending you to a sexual orientation change effort
clinic.” Cas flinches, but at least Dean is alive. “If you refuse to go, John
Winchester will be notified of what his son has done.” Dean is alive. “If you
try to leave before your treatment is complete, John will be notified.” Dean is
alive.
     “If I go, you have to promise me that you won’t tell John,” Cas says, his
voice still shaky from the tears. His mother grins at him.
     “I promise,” she says, and Cas has no choice but to believe her.
===============================================================================
     Dean climbs in through his window. He doesn’t think he can face his drunk
biological father, his concerned surrogate father, his bouncing little brother,
so he just...doesn’t. He climbs in through his window and pulls his headphones
straight on in an attempt to let Led Zeppelin destroy the night he just had. It
doesn't work. Instead, above the music, he hears Cas telling Dean all the
horrors his mother might inflict on him if she found out. He wills Cas to be
okay.
     Dean falls asleep staring at the wall, and he awakes to Sam shaking his
leg with moonlight wrapping around him. Sam’s eyes are wide, his lips spilling
words rapidly, but Dean cannot hear. He pulls his headphones away, and Sam
starts again.
     “Cas’ mom is here. She told Dad.” Dean stands immediately, fear heating
his veins as he steps into the living room just in time to see Ms. Milton nod
her head at John before leaving. John turns to face Dean slowly, and that makes
it all the worse. If he would explode, it would be over quickly. This
sluggishness means endurance, which means any number of people could be hurt.
     “Dad,” Dean starts, stepping away slowly with his hands up. John cocks his
head to the side, eyes clear and focused. He is very obviously sober. He is
very obviously angry. He steps closer and closer, his fists clenching and
unclenching rapidly.
     Then he swings, catching Dean square across the jaw before Dean can
recoil, sending him stumbling backwards until he hits the wall behind him. The
hit didn't hurt too badly; the recoil was in fear of what's to come. John steps
closer, teeth bared and fist raised. He swings again, this time splitting
Dean’s lip and roughly forcing his head against the hard wood.
     “Stop!” Sam screams as he runs into the view of the beating, but John
ignores him, bringing his fist up again and hitting Dean in the stomach,
doubling him over with a groan. “Stop, damn it!” Sam screams with every punch,
all to no avail.
     “Sam,” Dean groans finally, seeing Sam’s trajectory. “Don’t,” but he does.
He jumps between Dean and the next punch, catching it right across his scrawny
little ribs. Dean swears he hears something crack. "Sam," he whines, unable to
help as Sam crumples to his knees there at their feet.
     “You stay out of this, goddammit!” John screams down to his fallen son.
Sam wheezes there on his knees, helpless to do anything but watch as his big
brother takes another hit, watch the moment when Dean is defeated by the only
villain that's ever been bigger than his heroics. “I did not raise my son to be
a cock-sucking faggot!” John screams over the sound of a door opening in the
back. Footsteps fill the air as John brings his fist around to meet Dean again,
but this time Dean ducks, and John’s fist slams into the wall, cracking the
plaster and a few fingers.
     “What in God's name is going on in here?” Bobby shouts above the sound of
the one-way fight, coming into view from the back of the house. John, keeping
his injured hand tucked to his chest, picks up his other fist and swings at
Dean, catching him across the eye because he was distracted by Bobby. Sam is
still kneeling dazed on the floor, and Dean sputters blood every time John will
give him a moment to. John swings again, but this time, it’s Bobby who jumps
in, throwing John off balance and stopping the blow from meeting anything but
air. John struggles against Bobby for a moment, but he is too busy screaming
profanities at Dean to bemore than struggling.
     “You’re a good for nothing piece of shit! I give you a home and clothes
and food, and this, this is how you repay me? By letting some guy fuck you? By
being a goddamn faggot?!” John swings again, but Bobby’s hold keeps him from
getting close.
     “What the fuck is going on here?” Bobby demands of John, jerking him a bit
further away for emphasis.
     “He’s a fucking cock sucker!” John screams, and Dean recoils in on
himself.
     “What?” Bobby asks, snapping his head around to Dean. Dean sees the anger
flare in Bobby’s eyes, and he prepares for another beating, curling in on
himself out of reflex. Years of abuse has taught him that often, being smaller
being the only way out. Small is less threatening. Small is less punchable. He
closes his eyes against Bobby’s flying fist because if anyone could love him
despite of his sexuality, he hoped that Bobby would. He doesn’t want to see the
façade he put on his and Bobby’s relationship shatter, so he closes his eyes.
The hit never comes. Instead, the volume gets louder, and Dean opens his eyes
to see Bobby jerking John harder. “So you beat him? This is your son!”
     “That’sdamn right, and no son of mine is gonna be queer!”
     “What the hell's it to you? If he likes boys shouldn’t mean nothing to
you!” Bobby jerks John a final time, this time tossing him away from his sons.
Bobby glares at him for a long moment before kneeling down to pick Sam up.
     “I’m glad your mom isn’t here go see this,” John spits, leering at his
sons like the sack of shit he is. “She would be damn disappointed in you.”
     “Alright that's enough.” Bobby stands and crosses the room to stand nose
to nose with John. “You’re a sorry son of a bitch, John Winchester, you know
that?”
     “Get thefuck out of my house,” John spits, and no one can tell whether
he’s talking to Dean or Bobby. They both stare at him in stunned silence. “You
heard me. Pack your shit and get out. You’re not staying in my house if you’re
queer,” John snarls, eyes snapping to Dean. “And you’re not staying in my house
if you sympathize withthem,” he finishes, staring at Bobby.
     “Go pack a bag, Dean,” Bobby says quietly, and Dean turns to stare at him
incredulously. Eventually, after a few moments of staring at Bobby ignoring him
and instead staring at John, he hangs his head and goes to his room to pack. He
makes quick work of it, all the while pretending he doesn’t hear Bobby and John
screaming at each other before going back into the living room, bag slung
across his shoulders with his entire life condensed inside. His mom's picture
is right on top, but it hurts to look at now because she would be disappointed
in him. Everyone is.
     “Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” John growls, his eyes
turned toward Dean, and Dean is about to scream that John told him to pack his
shit and get the fuck out, so he’s packed his shit and now he’s getting the
fuck out. “You’re not fucking leaving,” John snarls, snatching Sam’s arm from
beside Dean. Dean hadn’t even noticed his little brother standing beside him,
his own bag strapped to his back. Sam jerks away from John immediately.
     “I’m going with Dean,” Sam says, stepping closer to Dean. John laughs
humorlessly.
     “You’re going to go with your queer brother,” he leers, leaning closer to
his boys. Dean brings a protective arm up around his brother. “You’re not.” He
turns to Dean. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
     “You can’t stop me,” Sam says, standing taller than Dean thinks he’s ever
seen him. Dean wonders in passing how much longer it will be until Sam
surpasses him completely.
     “If you walk out on me, you walk out on this family,” John snaps, leaning
closer towards Sam.
     “Dean is my family. Bobby is my family. They’ve always been there. How
many of my t-ball games did you go to? How many of my awards programs did you
attend? How many nights did stay up helping me with my homework or fighting
away the nightmares? Do you even know what grade I’m in?” Dean turns to his dad
curiously. Both of his sons are watching him with wide eyes. Sam hopes he
knows. He hopes John will surprise them all and confidently say eighth. He
hopes that someday he’ll be able to forgive his father for all the hell he’s
put them through, but if that is ever going to be possible, John needs to know.
     “Sixth?” John guesses after a long moment, and Sam’s face turns sour
before he can even get the end of the word out.
     “Fuck you, Dad,” Sam spits, recoiling into Dean’s side.
     “You watch your mouth, boy,” John snarls, but Sam is already turning away,
already heading for the door. Dean stares at his dad for a long moment, hoping
that his family isn’t about to be ripped apart at its seams, hoping that he can
blink and wake up from this nightmare. “The fuck are you staring at, faggot,”
John spits at Dean, and Dean drops his eyes. He heads for the door, scooping
his keys off the counter. “You’re not taking my car,” John calls, just because
he can, just to rub salt in the wounds, and Dean stops with his back to his
father, jaw clenched in anger.
     “You’re taking everything from me,” Dean says, his back still to his dad,
his head held high. “You’re taking my home, my life, my school, my boyfriend.
You can’t even let me keep the fucking car?”
     “You’re gay,” John says by way of explanation, so Dean laughs humorlessly.
He turns around and throws the keys to the ground by John’s feet.
     “You know what, you should keep the car. It’s got some pretty nasty stains
in the backseat anyway. Who knew gay sex could be so messy?” Dean grins at his
father, swallowing down John’s disgust and hate-filled glare.
     “Come on, boys,” Bobby says gently, stepping forward and putting a hand on
Dean’s shoulder. Dean had forgotten Bobby was even there. He looks around and
sees Sam waiting for him by the front door, ready to face the world with him.
His heart swells, and he wants nothing more than to hug him against his chest
and tell him that it’s going to be alright. He wants to promise Sammy that even
though they may not have a house anymore, they’ll be alright. Dean will make
sure Sam is alright, just like he always has. John’s malicious and slightly
shaky voice draws him back to reality.
     “I’ll call the police. Tell them you’re kidnapping my boys.”
     “Please,” Bobby snorts. “Let’s call the police. Tell them how Dean got his
lip busted, how Sam got his rib broken. Tell them how many drinks you have a
week. Tell them how you’ve been rubbing in to them since they could talk that,
unless they were little copies of you, they wouldn’t be good enough. Tell them
about the scars you’ve put on them, physically, emotionally, and then try and
tell them that getting these boys away from you is anything but in their best
interests.”
     John’s mouth hangs open, clearly searching for a response, but by the time
he has thought of something, Bobby is already gently steering the boys away.
Dean doesn’t look back, and with that slamming door, the reality of it all
falls on top of him.
     “Holy shit,” Dean breathes, panic rising in his chest. “He just kicked us
out of the house. Where are we gonna stay? What are we gonna do? I’m gonna have
to quit school and get a job an-”
     “Whoa, boy,” Bobby interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s rapidly heaving
shoulder. “What do you mean, what are you going to do? You boys are gonna stay
with me. I just didn’t want your daddy knowing where you were in case he
decides he wants to bring you back with force.”
     “Bobby,” Dean starts, shaking his head slightly.
     “I don’t even want to hear it. You boys are like my own. I’m not going to
leave you stuck here with him, and I’m definitely not gonna leave you out on
the streets. I been plannin' on taking you boys for a while—with your consent,
of course. Even got some lawyers involved. That’s the real reason I came for
Christmas, to try and talk some sense into your daddy, to try and make him see
that unless he started treatin' you boys right, he was gonna lose ya.” A long
moment passes during which Sam and Dean stare at Bobby in wonder.
     Then Bobby decides he’s had enough and guides the boys into his old,
beaten-down, and rusty truck. They all cram in on the front bench, and it feels
good. Dean revels in the feeling the whole drive to Bobby’s, trying to forget
that his relationship with Cas is hanging precariously in the balance, that he
was just kicked out of his home, that he's got basically nothing. For now, all
he can process is that his baby brother is pressed safe against his side, and
the miles are passing easily beneath their wheels. They are almost to Bobby’s
house when they turn suddenly off the highway into Ellen’s, Bobby muttering
about needing enough food to feed a litter. The little diner Bobby parks in
front of has seen many nights of Sam and Dean avoiding drunk John, many
mornings of Dean and Cas sneaking off, many afternoons of Sam and Jess studying
and laughing. Bobby gets out, leaving them alone for the first time in days and
staring at the front of that diner. They don’t know what to do with the
silence, so for minutes that seem to stretch into hours, it suffocates them.
     “He wants us…No one has ever wanted us,” Sam whispers finally, and had
Dean known that was what was turning through that big, dorky brain of his, he’d
have been screaming every obscenity to make him stop, singing every lullaby to
calm the doubt. But he didn’t, and now the thoughts are there and Dean knows
from experience that they will not be leaving, so Dean does all he knows to do
and wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder.
     “It’s always been you and me against the world, huh,” he says softly,
hugging Sam to his side.
     “Uncle Bobby’s gonna take care of us, right?” Sam murmurs, turning up to
Dean with big and terrified eyes.
     “Of course he is, and if he doesn’t, then I’ll take care of us. Always
have.” Sam smiles a small smile and ducks his head. “We’re gonna be fine,” Dean
promises, ruffling Sam’s hair teasingly. Sam smiles, broader this time, but as
soon as he sees Dean’s eyes flick away, the smile slips away.
     “Hey, Dean,” Sam says after a long moment of silence, a crease growing
between his eyebrows. Dean has been watching Bobby move about in the small
diner, talking with the warm-eyed Ellen with a smile on his face.
     “Yeah, Sammy?”
     “You know that’s not right. What he said?”
     “What who said?”
     “Dad, when he said Mom would be disappointed…She wouldn’t be. She would be
proud of you. She would be glad you found someone who makes you happy.” Sam
offers Dean a smile, one that Dean tries to return around the tears that
definitely aren’t welling up in his eyes.
     “Merry Christmas, Sammy,” Dean murmurs.
===============================================================================
     The next morning finds Dean in a tiny bed, scratchy flannel sheets keeping
him impossibly warm. He wakes up slowly, even unconsciously knowing that sleep
is better than reality. Then the smell of bacon convinces him that, shitty as
reality is, there are still some things to wake up for. Sam. Cas. Bobby. Bacon.
Dean makes his way barefooted into the kitchen to find Bobby at the stove and
Sam sitting at the table, phone receiver cradled in his hand.
     “Yeah, Jess,” he whispers, his voice low and cheeks heated. “I miss you
too...Yeah... I’ll definitely see you soon, okay? Things are just crazy...No,
we're fine. Uncle Bobby's letting us stay here for a while...Yeah, Jess...I
love you, too…bye.” Dean’s heart clenches in his chest. He misses Cas. Sam sets
the phone aside but keeps his eyes low. He looks so beaten down by the world
that he cannot stand it.
     “Hey, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, sitting in the seat next to him. “Wanna see
what Cas got me for Christmas?”
     “Please tell me its not a silicone mold of his penis,” Sam says with a
groan, and if Dean’s face weren't busy instantly heating, his eyes busy
flicking nervously to Bobby’s back, he'd be glad that Sam is feeling happy
enough to be a bitch.
     “No, you little pervert,” he mutters, but his pride is shot. “Come on,”
Dean says and stands, leading Sam to the tiny room he has been put in for the
rest of the near, unforeseeable future. When he gets there, he sits Sam on the
bed and turns to his bag. Of all the hurried things he packed, the frame is the
only thing he set in gingerly. He pulls it out, stares at his mom for a selfish
moment before passing her to Sam. Tears immediately form in Sam’s eyes, and
Dean fears that instead of helping, he just hurt Sam more. Then his shaking
fingers become greedy fingers, running over the glass covering her, taking in
her every curl, her every bend.
     “She’s so beautiful,” Sam murmurs finallly, and Dean nods.
     “I was totally right in saying his gift would be better than mine,” Dean
says with a tired smile. Sam never looks up from the picture clutched in his
hands, so eventually, Dean decides to leave the two of them alone and make his
way back to the smell of bacon.
     “Hungry?” Bobby asks when he enters the kitchen, and Dean nods as he sits
at the table and pulls a plate to himself. “Dig in,” Bobby says, sitting next
to Dean in silence as he loads his plate. Bobby waits until Dean has a mouthful
of food--unable to defend himself, the sorry bastard--to begin speaking.
“Listen,” he starts, and Dean chews all the faster in order to talk, not
listen, because 'listen' means they’ll have to talk about what happened last
night, about Dean liking guys, about life, and it’s not a conversation Dean
wants to have, like ever. Unfortunately for him, Bobby beats him to the punch.
“I just want you to know that…Your dad never...It doesn’t matter….I still…even
though you’re…”
     “Bobby,” Dean forces down his food half-chewed and starts, cutting him off
with his face hot beyond compare and lips sticky with syrup. “You don’t have
to…please.”
     “No, Dean,” Bobby persists, shaking his head. “It needs to be said.”
     “No, it doesn’t,” Dean argues, his head falling lower and lower into his
chest. Small is less threatening. Small is less punchable, and that includes
with words.
     “Well, you need to hear it,” Bobby says firmly, so Dean has no choice but
to look up to those miserly eyes and swallow down his embarrassment. “Now
listen here. I firmly believe that a great deal of what your father did, he did
with what he believed was your best interest at heart. He may not be the
smartest or most empathetic man, but he does care about you boys. With that
being said, what he said was way out of line, so far out of line that he can't
even see the line anymore. He shouldn’t care that you like guys too. All he
should care about is that you’re happy. That’s all I care about. I know you
aren’t big on the touchy feely, and neither am I, believe me." Bobby takes a
breath to slow his ramblings. "But I love you, son,” he finishes after a
moment, and Dean's whole face heats again.
     “Love you too,” Dean murmurs after a moment of stunned silence, a smile
tugging on his lips.
     “And I’m not at all surprised that you and Cas wound up together,” Bobby
adds as an afterthought, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
     “What? Seriously?”
     “Oh, yeah. Anyone with eyes could see that you two care about each other.”
     “He was my best friend,” Dean says with an incredulous shrug.
     “Yeah, but it was more.” Dean rolls his eyes, but a smile ghosts across
his lips. “I’m glad it was him,” Bobby says sincerely, drawing an even more
prominent smile out of Dean.
     “Me too,” Dean murmurs, starting back in on his bacon. Bobby leaves him to
his breakfast after that, and when he finishes, he picks up the phone and
wanders into the garage. He just needs to hear Cas’ voice, so he dials the
number. He doesn’t answer, so he dials Cas’ house phone. He doesn’t answer, but
Anna does.
     “Hello,” she asks when the line opens between them.
     “Hey, Anna. Can I talk to Cas?” Dean runs a worried through his hair, and
the silence between them hangs for a long moment.
     “He’s not here,” she says finally, sadness creeping into her voice.
     “What? Where is he?”
     “...she took him to a SOCE clinic,” she murmurs finally, and Dean has to
pull the phone away from his face to make sure he heard her correctly.
     “What?” he asks, incredulously. “She took him to a SOCE clinic? As in,
sexual orientation change effort clinic?”
     “Yeah,” she murmurs, and Dean scoffs. Then the tears well in his eyes.
     “Fuck no,” he spits into the phone.
     “I’m so sorry, Dean. I tried so hard… She said something to him; I don’t
know what. He said he wanted to go.” Dean swallows, all the air stripped from
his lungs.
     “What?” Dean asks quietly, but it isn’t angry. It’s lost.
     “He wouldn’t budge. He got that stubborn little set in his jaw and
wouldn’t cave.” Dean can see it now. They are fighting over pizza toppings.
They are fighting over a movie to watch. They are fighting over a million
little things, but they are not fighting over Cas leaving, never about Cas
leaving because Cas would not leave. “He said to tell you he meant it. Said
you’d know what he meant.”
     “Sorry, bastard couldn’t just say he loves me?” Dean asks with a laugh
that is trying hard to stay steady and tear free.
     “I don’t know. It seems more romantic this way,” Anna replies with a sad
smile in her voice.
     “Thanks, Anna,” Dean replies softly.
     “Hey, Dean,” she calls before Dean can hang up.
     “Yeah?”
     “Don’t give up on him, okay?” Her voice is soft and sincere.
     “I couldn’t if I tried.”
Chapter End Notes
     Close Scene for Part One.
     So...what did you guys think? Did you expect it? (I know some of you
     did) Were you shocked? (I hope some of you were)
     (Just as a footnote, I don't know if this really needs to be said,
     but the opinions expressed in this fic, part two and three as well,
     are not, in any way, size, shape, or form, my opinions. I am not a
     homophobic asshole. I just wanted to make that clear so no one gets
     offended personally or thinks something John or Ms. Milton says is a
     sentiment I that I share because I don't.)
     On to brighter subjects! I want to thank you all so much for reading
     and living the first part of this journey with me. You guys give me
     life with your sweet and expressive comments, wonderful_fanarts, and
     endless support. I honestly cannot thank you enough. I love you all
     and can't wait to hear your thoughts on part two!
     (Hey you guys wanna see something kind of funny/ridiculous that I
     doodled during one of my planning stages? If so, here you go!)
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