Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean blushed, staring pointedly down at the beer in his hand. He felt floaty, but apparently some of his inhibitions had decided to stick around long after his ability to think clearly had left.

“Winchester focus. It’s your turn,” Jo snapped at him playfully, smacking him with the back of her hand. He glanced at her lying on her stomach next to him and quickly regretted it. The whole circle was staring at him, all of their flushed faces looking just a little bit blurry. His eighteen-year-old body was apparently not prepared for the amount of alcohol he had put in it that evening.

“Um, okay. Um, never have I ever…” he paused, not wanting to seem like a loser. Not with this group. “Never have I ever blacked out.”

There was a chorus of claps all around the circle from most of the others, and they all took long pulls from their drinks.

“Unlike all of you idiots, I am proud to say I as well have never blacked out,” Charlie grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

“Oh hell no,” Dorothy protested, “no fucking way you remember all of night two at Comic-Con. No fucking way. I mean you started the night in your cosplay and came home wearing only—“

“Okay!” Charlie interrupted, flushing dark red. “Okay fine, fine I’ve blacked out,” she clapped and took a drink as well, laughing nervously.

“Never have I ever…” Jo started, grinning wickedly. “…never have I ever made out with a girl.”

Claps again, this time from Ash, Victor, Gabe, Michael, and Cas. Dean joined them a second later, along with Charlie and Dorothy. His ears burned furiously, though none of the others seemed fazed. He drank his beer, hoping it might help the blushing problem. He was going to kill Jo for dragging him along to this. He didn’t know any of these people personally, and they were so much prettier and more fun and more popular than him, it wasn’t even funny. He should’ve just stayed home with his books and Sammy; much safer than this dark, carpeted basement filled with alcohol and people who probably didn’t even know his name.

“You wanna change that?” Charlie winked at Jo, stirring up a bout of laughter amongst the circle. Dorothy scoffed and glared at her, but Jo just wiggled her eyebrows in response, grinning again.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t missing much,” Cas stated, leaning his head back to drink from the bottle in his hand. Apparently cups were too much of a hassle, since he appeared to be drinking straight from a bottle of some kind of whiskey. Dean let his eyes wander, taking in the boy sitting across the circle from him. His dark hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, like someone had purposefully tugged their fingers through it. He was wearing a grey ACDC t-shirt that was sticking to him in all the right—and no, nope, of course Dean wasn’t paying attention to that, not at all. He pulled the bottle away from his pink lips, wincing slightly as he swallowed.

“You wound me, Clarence,” Meg whined, pouting dramatically. Cas lazily turned his head towards her, smirking flirtatiously.

“Maybe you can change my mind later.”

Meg blew him a kiss and winked, which Dean felt distinctly unhappy about. He wasn’t sure why. Cas just settled the bottle of whiskey between his crossed legs and turned his attention to Ash who was speaking next.

“Fine then. Never have I ever…” Ash twanged, his accent peeking through. “…made out with a guy.”

Jo, Anna, Meg, Dorothy and Lisa all groaned, reluctantly taking sips from their various drinks. Dean noticed off handedly that Cas was drinking again, but he didn’t think much of it.

“Never have I ever…” Anna started, scanning the circle. She fixed her gaze on Cas. “Never have I ever made out with three people in one night.”

This time only Cas and Gabe clapped, which seemed to amuse the rest of the circle a great deal. Cas just smirked again, seeming unsurprised.

“Guilty.” He drank again from his bottle, his lips wrapping around the glass obscenely. Dean could’ve sworn he drank a bit more slowly this time, his throat muscles moving under the tanned skin.

“I feel targeted,” Gabe laughed, drinking anyway.

Victor said something, but Dean didn’t hear it. Cas was staring at him. Like, really staring. His blue eyes were absolutely piercing, and he tilted his head like something about Dean was confusing to him.

Dean, on the other hand, was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open and possibly his tongue was hanging out. At the moment they both felt pretty numb, so he wasn’t exactly sure. Dean brought his beer bottle up to his lips and drank slowly, parting his lips and letting the liquid slide into his mouth and down his throat. He kept eye contact with Cas the entire time, watching him inhale and lick his lips in reaction.

A weight against his side broke the spell and he tore his eyes away to see that Lisa was leaning pretty heavily against him. Her hand was settled on the inside of his thigh, a little higher than he thought was appropriate. Oh, okay, he thought, a small blush creeping up his neck. He looked at her questioningly, but she just smiled and squeezed his leg.

“…have I ever enjoyed whiskey,” Meg said, as Dean tried desperately to force his addled brain to focus on the game.

Dean, Jo, Ash, Victor, Cas, Dorothy, and Michael all clapped and drank. Dean pointedly did not look at Cas. Who knew what he might find in those blue eyes.

“That was a shit answer and you know it,” Michael slurred.

“Hey shut the fuck up, pretty boy,” Meg snapped back, her voice warm with affection.

“Save the dirty talk for later,” Cas said dryly, smirking at the two of them.

“You are such an asshole,” Michael muttered.

“Okay then Cas, why don’t you tell us what you haven’t done? Is there anything?” Lisa asked rhetorically, her voice dripping with sickly sweetness.

Cas turned his gaze on her and tipped his head again. “Don’t worry baby, I have a couple things we could try together.”

Lisa scoffed at him, clearly annoyed. She didn’t respond, choosing instead to settle her legs over Dean’s lap and nestle closer under his arm. He settled it over her shoulders, more out of necessity than anything else. Something flashed across Cas’ eyes, making Lisa giggle with pleasure.

“Never have I ever,” he looked directly at Dean, a cool expression settling over his features, “had sex in an actual bed.”

The whole circle groaned, mumbling some variation of “that’s not fair, Cas” before drinking. Dean wanted to drink, but his hand didn’t seem to be listening. Or his arm, or his eyes, or his brain, for that matter. He couldn’t stop looking.

“Winchester, you with us?”

“Huh?”

Jo laughed. “I asked if you needed more beer.”

He looked down at his bottle, realizing its emptiness.

“Oh, um, yes, yeah, um…please.” Stupid. Why did he sound so stupid? At least he wasn’t blushing this time. Not as much anyway.

“Come upstairs I’ll show you where it is.”

Cas. Cas had said that. Cas was taking him upstairs. He would be alone. With Cas. Without three feet of circle between them. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

He felt Lisa press a small kiss to his neck, purring into his ear “don’t take too long” before extracting herself.

Yep. Definitely killing Jo after this.

He stood up slowly, following Cas who was already walking up the stairs. He felt like the world was spinning and his body was too light, but Cas was leaning on the handrail so he didn’t feel quite as bad. They made their way into the kitchen, Dean lagging slightly behind. Maybe it was because he couldn’t exactly walk straight, maybe it was because he liked how Cas’ black jeans were hugging his ass tauntingly. Cas promptly hopped up onto one of the counters, letting his legs dangle over the side. He had on dirty white converse that Dean had yet to notice, but somehow seemed to complete his profile in Dean’s mind.

Whiskey drinker. Asshole. Hot clothes. Sex hair. Check, check, check, check.

“Want some?” His voice brought Dean back to the present, tearing him away from the scene currently playing in his mind about exactly how Cas got hair like that. He almost whined in frustration.

The cool expression was still covering Cas’ face, but his eyes were smiling. He was holding out the bottle of whiskey, the contents sloshing around inside. Something in Dean’s belly fluttered. He stepped forward, standing almost between Cas’ knees. He reached out a hand to grab the bottle, but Cas just tsked and pulled it back.

“Never have I ever poured whiskey down a hot guy’s throat.”

Dean gulped. Hot? Him? He stepped forward just slightly, within Cas’ reach. A warm hand settled on the side of his neck, a thumb sliding across his bottom lip before parting his lips gently. He never broke eye contact with Cas, his breath hitching in his throat. He noticed absently that the other boys cheeks were pink, his eyes bright and wild.

A press of glass against his lips, then the familiar burning of alcohol sliding down his throat. He closed his eyes and didn’t move his head or close his mouth, letting Cas control him.

When Cas finally pulled the bottle away, his lips were parted and he seemed to be breathing a little heavier. Dean noticed how close they were standing and felt the weight of Cas’ legs pressed against his sides, wondering when that had happened. His hands were resting on Cas’ thighs, closer to his knees but itching to move. They stared at each other, neither one wanting to look away.

There was a stomping noise in the direction of the stairs, but the boys didn’t care to look.

“What the hell is taking so—“ Dean recognized the voice as Lisa, who seemed to have paused as soon as she saw them. “Oh hell no. Castiel you motherfu—“

“Go. Away. Lisa,” Cas mumbled, completely cutting her off with his soft voice. She seemed to stand there for a few seconds before she huffed and stormed off, yelling down the stairs something about “fucking Cas” and “never have I ever been the biggest slut in the world.” Dean ignored her.

“You smell like her.”

His voice was so low Dean might have called it a growl. It sounded…possessive. His blue eyes weren’t looking at Dean anymore; they roamed around his neck, chest, and shoulders, sometimes sliding lower. Dean touched his fingers to the kiss on his neck, the memory of Lisa’ lips pressing against his skin. Cas set the bottle down and used his thumb to slide over the spot, his other hand still cupping Dean’s face.

Dean caught a few hints of flowery perfume sticking to his skin. He crinkled his nose, unhappy with the realization. Cas smiled warmly. Woah.

“I don’t like it either.”

“Never have I ever hated a perfume so much,” Dean managed, surprised at the clarity of his own voice.

“Well look at that, it knows how to play.”

The intense moment between them passed. Cas dropped his hands and spread his legs wider so they weren’t touching at all. Dean wanted to complain, but he wasn’t sure what game they were playing. He just didn’t want it to end. Cas grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a quick drink.

“Never have I ever been so God damn distracted by green-eyes, freckles, and fucking lips.” His eyes traveled around Dean’s face, capturing each feature as he said them out loud. He settled on his lips, and Dean found himself licking them self-consciously. Cas inhaled slightly at that, sliding just a tad closer to the edge of the counter. He offered the bottle to Dean.

“I haven’t done that either.”

“Just fucking drink, Dean.” He did, grabbing the bottle himself this time. He tried not to act surprised when Cas used his name.

“Never have I ever hung out with such an asshole,” Dean countered, positively shocked at his own sass. Cas smirked again.

“Oh, are we hanging out now?”

Dean blushed furiously, his skin burning. He tried to step backwards, away from this boy who was so far past what he could handle. Cas stopped him. He hooked his feet around Dean’s legs, pulling him forward and flush against the kitchen counter.

“Babe, I’m kidding,” he said, laughing at Dean’s reaction. Somewhere under the attitude was an apology, so Dean let it go. Cas put his hands up like he was surrendering, then took a long swallow from the bottle. He didn’t unhook his feet.

“Never have I ever gotten someone naked in my kitchen,” his tone flat and serious.

“Your kitchen?” Dean ignored the implication there, washing away his question with whiskey.

“My kitchen, my house. Well not mine. My parents’. What, did you think I just brought you up here to seduce you?” Dean gulped. “There is actually more beer, if you want it.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Not home much. Yes I am very sad about it and yes I miss them terribly when they are gone and yes I will go to therapy for years in the future to learn how to handle the latent anger I have towards them for abandoning their baby boy. Can we move on now?”

There was an unusual bite to his voice that made Dean flinch. He was shocked, but he dropped it. “Never have I ever been seduced by a boy.”

The statement felt awkward in his mouth, too forward and childish. Cas smirked though, the last traces of annoyance over his parents leaving his face.

“Never ever? Well damn. In that case I couldn’t possibly spoil your innocence.”

He moved like he was going to slide of the counter, which Dean was simply not ready for. He wrapped his fingers around Cas’ legs and tugged forward, sliding him so that Cas’ butt rested on the very edge of the counter and his legs wrapped completely around Dean’s waist. Cas’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Look at you,” he purred, just barely audible, his breath brushing against Dean’s lips. He was leaning back on his hands, and making no moves towards Dean. “Remind me who’s doing the seducing here?”

“You have to drink.”

“How could I possibly forget?”

Dean grabbed the bottle, but Cas still wasn’t moving. He wasn’t quite sure what the hell was making him so brave, but he was sure it was somehow related to the whiskey pooling in his belly. He moved his hand slowly up to Cas’ cheek, mimicking the way the other boy had settled his hand against his neck and jaw. Dean’s hands felt big and clumsy against Cas’ warm skin, but he leaned into the touch so he must’ve been doing okay. Cas blinked lazily as Dean petted his cheek with his thumb, noticing the flush in his cheeks and the shadows beneath his blue eyes.

He finally settled his thumb on Cas’ bottom lip, consciously forcing his brain to focus on the boy in front of him. He used his thumb to pull Cas’ lips open, pouring whiskey into his mouth. He pulled the bottle back after a few seconds, letting Cas swallow and take the bottle out of his hands, setting it back on the counter.

Cas gave him an odd look, doing that damn head tilt thing again. Dean couldn’t quite figure out what he was seeing in those eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Cas murmured, almost to himself. Dean didn’t respond. He didn’t think his mouth was working anyway.

Before he could figure out what was happening, Cas had both his hands buried in Dean’s short hair, their lips pressed together sloppily. Dean reacted as quickly as he could, kissing back eagerly. The traces of whiskey still in Cas’ mouth burned Dean’s lips pleasantly.

Cas moaned into his mouth, tearing his lips away for a few seconds while they panted into each others mouths. He was waiting for Dean; giving him and out, if he wanted one. Dean blew past that exit, capturing Cas’ lips with his own and wrapping his arms around the other boy’s waist. Cas’ legs tightened around his own waist as he slid his tongue into Dean’s mouth, deepening the kiss until Dean could barely tell where his own body ended and where Cas’ began.

“Holy fuck, my eyes!” Charlie squealed behind them, feigning pain.

“I told you!” presumably Lisa. “Cas got his fucking claws in him!”

Several other sets of footsteps were coming up the stairs, choruses of voices all talking over one another. Dean tore his mouth away from Cas and snapped his head around, a blush automatically creeping up his neck. Cas whined unhappily, but he didn’t untangle his fingers from Dean’s hair. He placed several kisses along Dean’s jawline, moving down and sucking marks into the skin of his neck.

“Haven’t you heard Lis? I’m fucking irresistible.” Cas only broke contact long enough to smirk at Lisa before pressing his lips to the hollow of Dean’s throat.

“Irresistible? I’ll show you fucking irr—“ Lisa started, but she was quickly interrupted.

“Green isn’t a pretty color on you, Lisa. Don’t be such a bitch.” Gabe grinned at her, winking. She seemed to still be fuming.

Jo finally reached the top of the stairs, Michael’s arm slung around her shoulders. “Well don’t you just look fucking guilty as hell!” she giggled, staring pointedly at Cas who was still kissing and biting Dean’s neck.

“I, um…uh…we, uh…”

The whole room erupted in laughter, Anna and Meg falling to the ground dramatically. He felt Cas sigh against his neck and pull his fingers out of his hair.

“Oh I’m sorry, you ungrateful little shits, whose house are we in right now?” Cas snapped at them, the amusement too clear in his voice for the insult to have much affect. “I’ll fucking kick your asses out. Sleep on the street for all I care.”

Meg and Anna scrambled up to their knees, sitting back like they were begging.

“Oh please no! Not the street Clarence! Don’t kick us out!” Meg cried, faking tears.

“Let us stay! You are our Lord Castiel! We bow to you!” Anna continued in the same fashion.

The others in the room quickly caught on and joined in.

“You can fuck on the counter for all we care! Just don't make us leave!” Charlie yelled.

Dean turned his head back to Cas to watch his reaction. He was grinning, his lips still a bit swollen.

“Shut your goddamn mouths, peasants.” The room went quiet, only soft snickers filling the silence. Cas turned his gaze back to Dean. “Upstairs?”

“I thought you never ever did beds.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Dean paused for a second. “Upstairs.”

Cas kissed him again, his hands finding their way back to his neck and chest. Dean tightened his arms around Cas’ waist, sliding his hands down underneath his ass. Cas used his thumb to pull open Dean’s bottom lip, sliding his tongue against Dean’s. He groaned, embarrassingly loud, but he couldn’t care.

Dean stepped back from the counter, easily carrying Cas away with him. The other boy was thin but definitely not skinny, corded runners-muscles covering his body. Dean might have been a nerd, but he sure as hell was grateful for his dad’s PT every morning. There were whoops and hollers from the rest of the group as they navigated their way out of the kitchen. Dean never broke the kiss, trusting Cas to tell him where to go.

“Right. Left. Stairs. Right. Right. Door.” Cas murmured instructions between heated kisses, the wolf-whistles and cheers from their friends getting further and further away. “Left. Bed.”

Dean stepped into the dark room and closed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. This one night, it was just going to be him and Cas. Who knows what might happen tomorrow but tonight…

Tonight was a start.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up to a crick in his neck, and the distinct feeling that his stomach was trying to crawl out of his body. He was lying on his back, a tanned arm and leg thrown over his torso. A dark-haired, bare-chested boy lay next to him, wearing only black boxer briefs. The boy’s face was buried in Dean’s neck, and he seemed to be sleeping pretty deeply still.

Well, fuck.

Last night’s memories were slowly replaying in his mind, definitely fuzzy but all still there. He remembered kissing Cas in the kitchen, carrying him up the stairs, dropping him on the bed, grinding their bodies against one another. At some point he slid Cas’ shirt over his head and let his hands roam over the bare skin.

And then he remembered…falling asleep. The darkness of the room quickly engulfed him, and in his defense he drank a lot of whiskey. He thought Cas might have laughed at him, which made his ears burn.

Leave it to Dean Winchester to fuck up something that should’ve been simple.

He started to pull away, trying to extract himself without waking Cas. He felt embarrassed, stupid, and inexperienced. No way was he prepared to face the boy lying next to him. Hell, Cas would probably be relieved to wake up and find him long gone.

“Dean Winchester I am shocked. Are you trying to sneak out on me?”

Dean froze. His sleepy, hung over brain was panicking, but his body quite liked the way that Cas nuzzled against his neck, his fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“Uh…” He didn’t have a good answer. Sneaking out was definitely what he was trying to do.

Cas lifted his head just enough so he could level his blue eyes on Dean. He looked rumpled and grumpy, and his already wild brown hair was sticking up even more. The shadows under his eyes that were so pronounced the night before seemed lighter now, less noticeable.

“I would like you to stay,” Cas said, softer and more vulnerable than Dean was prepared for. His eyes roamed around Dean’s face, watching for a reaction. “It’s still early, and I don’t have plans. But I won’t make you.”

Those intense blue eyes met his, and they looked so damn hopeful that Dean couldn’t say no. He tried to smile, but wasn’t exactly sure what his face ended up looking like.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, sure.”

Cas smiled, kissing him softly. It was slow and tender, and it sent a chill up Dean’s neck and down his arms. Dean slid his fingers into the hair at the base of Cas’ neck, needing to feel the strands between his fingers. Cas smiled against his mouth and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth and coaxing him easily. Dean felt a moan escape his throat, his jeans growing tighter with every press of Cas’ lips.

Cas shifted slightly, his entire body now lying on top of Dean’s. They hissed almost in unison as their cocks rubbed together, even through so many layers of fabric. Dean was pleased to feel that Cas seemed to be reacting as strongly as he was. Maybe it was just the morning, but he easily let that thought drift away. After a moment or two Cas pulled back slightly, as if to speak.

“Might I ask why you still have so many clothes on?”

Dean shrugged. “You haven’t taken them off.”

“So it’s my fault you were too hammered to take off your own clothes?”

“Hey the whiskey was your idea, not mine.” Dean fought the blush that crept up his neck, but Cas definitely noticed it. He just smirked, knowing exactly the effect he had.

“No I get it, it’s okay. Little Winchester can’t handle his booze.”

“I—“ but Cas wasn’t listening anymore.

He sat back on his knees, straddling Dean’s waist. Dean let him pull his t-shirt off, his flannel already discarded on the floor sometime last night. Cas made quick work of his jeans as well, tossing them on the floor at the foot of the bed before lying down on top of Dean once more. He left Dean’s underwear on, which Dean tried very hard not to complain about.

It somehow wasn’t sexual, the whole process. Cas stripped his clothes off slowly and sleepily, with none of the intensity and urgency Dean had felt the night before. This was something entirely different; more of a slow, burning desire, like Cas simply wanted Dean’s skin pressed against his own. It was easy contact, sharing the warmth of their bodies, Cas’ smell embedding itself in Dean’s skin.

They were surprisingly intimate, these slow touches in the soft, early morning light, and yet Dean didn’t feel the need to hide. He let his eyes take in all of Cas, his crazy-ass bedhead, kiss-swollen lips, and wide blue eyes, pupils dilated. Dean grabbed the fluffy comforter from where it was bunched up on the side of the bed, pulling it over them both to trap some of the heat.

Instead of picking up where they left off, Cas just laid down, his cheek pressed against Dean’s chest. Somehow Dean didn’t mind, and he absently traced patterns on Cas’ bare back with this fingers.

“So, what’s your deal Winchester?”

“Um, my deal? I don’t, um…”

“Yes, your deal. Never been seduced by a boy before, maybe haven't been with a boy before. And yet here you are.”

“I’d thought about it. Just hadn’t met the right one I guess.” Dean froze at that, hearing the implication in his own words. Cas just hummed in acknowledgement, which Dean took as a good sign.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Dean continued, trying to diffuse some of his own embarrassment.

“Surprisingly yes, although you did your best to get in the way of that with your drunk snoring. Why do you ask?” His voice was thick with sleep, sort of a slurred mumble.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas’ smile against his skin made him stop.

“You looked tired last night. You look less tired today.”

Cas’ muscles immediately tensed up under Dean’s hands, and although he didn’t move, Dean could almost tangibly feel him pulling away. Dean acted quickly, saying the first thing he could think of:

“Who knew you were a cuddler.”

Cas’ head snapped up at that, his eyes lit up mischievously. He rolled his hips just slightly, and Dean gasped at the friction. Cas’ lips were so close, his breath caressing Dean’s mouth with each exhale. He continued to grind against Dean in a completely and utterly distracting way while he spoke, his hips moving in slow, torturous circles.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Then show me.”

Dean gathered every ounce of courage he had and kissed him, resetting the slow and easy tone Cas had set earlier. He slid his hands down Cas’ back to cover his ass with his hands. Cas just hummed happily, his hard cock teasing Dean’s with every movement.

Their hands became more and more insistent, grasping at each other desperately. Cas licked, bit, and kissed his way down Dean’s neck and chest, slipping two fingers underneath the waistband of Dean’s underwear and sliding them off in one easy movement as his comforter got pushed to the side once more.

Before Dean could process, Cas was nuzzling the inside of his thigh, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin lightly. Then his mind went completely blank, and all he could possibly think about was Cas’ pink lips wrapped around him, his tongue teasing expertly. One hand was wrapped around the base of Dean’s shaft, squeezing and twisting, while the other scratched the skin on his thighs, nails digging in just slightly. Dean moaned loudly, thinking that he could come right now with the amount of heat that was pooling in his belly. But he wanted more, more than this.

“Cas, I—“

Cas paused, removing his mouth but slowly running his tongue from base to tip before looking up at Dean. He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head and waited for a response.

“I—I need you.”

“Well, fuck. How demanding of you.”

Cas moved quickly, taking all of Dean into his mouth once more before moving to his nightstand to grab a bottle of lube and a condom. He placed himself between Dean’s legs, spreading them even further. Cas squeezed some lube onto his hands, sliding one finger down and pressing into Dean’s hole. Dean moaned again at the sensation, barely conscious of his noise level. A second finger followed shortly after, and then a third, as Cas slowly pried him open with his wonderful fingers. It felt odd at first, but Dean was a panting mess by now, unable to do more than groan and press his hips towards Cas’ fingers.

Then they were gone, and Cas was putting on the condom and spreading lube over himself. He leaned down and kissed Dean softly and sweetly, still kneeling between his legs, his erection against his skin.

“Stay with me,” he murmured between kisses, pulling Dean down from the clouds, his lips grounding him. Then his mouth was everywhere again, licking at Dean’s nipples, biting his lips, sucking marks into his skin. Dean was overwhelmed with sensation, his body quivering and his moans sounding more like whimpers and pleas. He had one hand wound in Cas’ dark hair, the other leaving scratches on Cas’ back with his nails.

All the while Cas kept his fingers wrapped around the base of Dean’s erection, holding off the orgasm Dean knew was quickly building.

When Cas finally pushed inside of him, unendingly slow and careful, Dean didn’t feel pain; there was no room for pain. All he felt was lips crushed against his own, burning heat where Cas touched him, and this incredible ache, the need for Cas to fill him up. Cas slowly pressed deeper, the intensity of his kisses betraying his calm. Dean clenched his fingers in Cas’ hair and cried out as he bottomed out, thankful now for Cas’ hand or else this would’ve ended much sooner.

Cas moved slowly, pulling back and sliding in with none of the slamming rhythm or slap of skin that Dean was used to with the girls he’d been with. Cas was gentle and loving, setting a slow and easy rhythm for Dean to match. They continued kissing, sloppily and lazily, while their bodies moved in unison.

Cas was soon moaning into Dean’s mouth shamelessly, each thrust getting more insistent. He was shaking now, his whole body trembling.

“Dean…” Cas moaned, sounding much more like a whimper now. Mostly, he just sounded completely wrecked. As the sound left his lips he came, his body tensing up all over. He finally released Dean’s cock, letting the blood flow back, and Dean came almost immediately with a cry that sounded a lot like Cas’ name.

Dean might have blacked out a little bit after that. Maybe.

Several minutes later he gathered himself, realizing that Cas was flopped down on top of him with his cheek pressed against his chest, his softening cock still inside of Dean. He tried not to think how much he wanted stay like this, sated and sleepy. Dean wrapped his legs and one arm around Cas, clinging to him in the aftershocks of an orgasm that was still resonating through him. Of course Dean would never use the word “cling,” he preferred to think he was just holding Cas while he slept; which may or may not have been worse than clinging.

He dragged his fingers through Cas’ hair, mussing the crazy spikes even more.

“That was…” Dean started, but wasn’t able to finish. He didn’t have the words.

“Mmmm,” Cas just hummed in response. Dean hadn’t even been sure he was awake. “Clean-up. Blanket. Sleep.”

He pulled away slowly, like he had to physically drag himself. Dean felt an immediate absence, wanting so badly to feel Cas inside of him again. Cas wandered through a doorway that Dean hadn’t noticed before, returning a second later with a damp washcloth that he handed to Dean before disappearing through the door again. Dean assumed it was a bathroom, but with the door closed behind him he couldn’t be sure.

Dean quickly cleaned the sticky come off of his stomach and tossed the washcloth to the floor, pulling his underwear back on but leaving the rest of his clothes off. He then took a second to observe Cas’ room, something he had yet to do.

And quite honestly, he didn’t see a whole lot. The room was shades of black, white, and grey, and everything was made of sharp edges and empty spaces. The bed he was laying in was rather large, and the only indication that Cas enjoyed any sort of comfort in his life. The walls were starkly plain, and Dean couldn’t help but feel like this room wasn’t a home to anybody.

Cas returned then, also wearing his underwear this time. He climbed into the bed and pulled the comforter up with him, covering them both. He lay on his side, so Dean turned to face him. Cas pressed their bodies as close together as possible, resting his forehead on Dean’s and sliding both his hands into Dean’s hair. One thigh was pressed between Dean’s legs, the other leg hooked over his hip.

Within seconds the other boy was asleep, and Dean quickly felt the tendrils of sleep dragging him under. He didn’t resist, knowing that when he woke up, it would be to bright blue eyes and a boy he already knew he was falling for.

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

Some time later, he woke up to an obnoxious buzzing noise that he identified somewhere in his brain as a cell phone ringing. He thought maybe it was Sam or his mom calling to find out where he was, but it wasn’t his cell. It was Cas’. The other boy didn’t react much; he just made an unhappy face in his sleep that maybe made Dean laugh a little bit.

When the phone started buzzing again Cas finally woke up enough to form words. He nuzzled his face against Dean’s neck, mumbling “make it stop” in a distinctly whiny voice.

The phone started a new bout of buzzing, so Dean reached over to the nightstand and snagged the phone to turn it off.

“Who the fuck is calling at this ungodly hour,” Cas grumbled.

“It’s 12:36, so I maybe wouldn’t call it ungodly. But, um, somebody named Balthazar?”

Dean stared at the screen, a pit forming in his stomach. He tried not to let his mind wander off with this information, but the way Cas immediately pulled away made it incredibly difficult. He was physically putting space between them, and it hurt. He snatched the phone out of Dean’s hand, something between anger and hope flashing across his face as he stared at the screen before that cool mask from the night before took over his features.

“I’ll just, uh, go, um, go…downstairs. And, um, go find Jo. Then, um, then I’ll be gone.” He gathered up his clothes while he spoke, trying his hardest not to make eye contact with Cas.

“Yeah, okay.”

Dean almost flinched, but he forced himself to hold it together as glanced at the other boy. Cas’ eyes looked sad, but his face looked impassive. Dean threw on his clothes as quickly as he could, not bothering to button his jeans or lace up his boots before practically running out the door.

“Why are you calling me,” he heard Cas say as he walked away. “Quite honestly no I’m not…No I’m not busy…My voice sounds like what?...No...No I’m in my own fucking bed asshole, Jesus Christ…”

He stopped hearing Cas’ voice when he started down the stairs, for which he was eternally grateful. He scanned the living room that was attached to the kitchen, seeing the other teenagers passed out on various surfaces. Jo was asleep on the couch, nestled underneath Michael’s arm. Dean made his way over and shook her gently.

“Hey Harvelle, we gotta go. Now.”

“Mmmm, what time is it?” She opened her eyes, and whatever she saw on Dean’s face was enough explanation for his best friend. “Okay, yeah, getting up now.”

She kissed Michael, who was completely gone still, once on the nose before getting up to collect her belongings. They were out the door in less than two minutes. Dean thought he might have heard Cas say his name as he shut the front door, but he never looked back.

He needed out of this house, away from this boy. He needed to scrub his skin until that damn smell was gone. He needed to wash away the memories of Cas touching him; the marks would take longer to fade. How fitting.

“You alright?” Jo asked when they got back to his car. The impala rumbled, the familiar feel of the steering wheel in his hands grounding him. He peeled away from the curb, setting off towards the Roadhouse where he could drop off Jo.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Chapter Text

Dean spent the rest of Saturday nursing his hangover, playing video games with Sam and trying to avoid any and all forms of thinking. He spoke with his mom briefly when he got home, and thank the lord she didn’t pry too much.

“Did you have a fun night, sweetheart?” She put her fingertips on her neck, eyes darting to the marks that Dean was sure were obvious on his skin. She was censoring herself for Sam’s sake, trying to save Dean some embarrassment. He blushed dark red, not sure if he should lie or just let her think whatever she wanted.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Tons.”

She looked at him suspiciously, but seemed to decide to drop the topic there.

“Your father is out in the garage. I think Sam is out in the living room. Why don’t you grab a shower, maybe brush your teeth?”

She waved her hand in front of her nose, as if to say that he smelled something awful. Dean wondered idly if she could smell the sex on him, smell Cas. He sure as hell could.

Sitting on the couch with Sam now, Dean found it difficult to focus on the first-person shooter game on the TV.

“Dude, you suck right now,” Sam laughed, clearly enjoying Dean’s distraction. The fifteen-year-old was getting sassy.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped back, smacking him on the back of his shaggy head. He was secretly thankful that Sam knew his brother well enough not to ask what was up in that moment.

“Ow! Jerk.”

Dean smiled. “Bitch.”

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

Sunday flew by way too fast, and before he knew it, it was Monday morning and his alarm was blaring on his nightstand. Dean dragged himself out of his bed, letting his hand drag across the sheets. He stumbled into the bathroom, ready to take a quick shower and clear his head.

“Fuck.”

The bruises on his neck had barely faded at all, and he swore he could see the marks from Cas’ teeth still. Thank God his clothes would cover up the marks on his chest and stomach; no way did he need the extra embarrassment.

He hopped in the shower, the water so hot it almost burned his skin. It hurt, but he liked it. He couldn’t wash away the stupid hickeys, but he felt a little bit better this way.

He threw on a grey hoodie with his jeans and t-shirt, hoping it would be enough to cover his neck. Besides the one beneath his ear, the others were low enough to hide. How sweet of Cas to leave marks that were only mostly visible.

He grabbed his phone off his bed and made his way downstairs, seeing a text from Jo:

happy monday winchester! pick me up?

Dean shot back a quick reply:

you better not make me late this time

Jo replied almost immediately, nothing but a little winky face. Yep. He was definitely going to be late.

Jo had texted him several times on Saturday and Sunday, clearly trying to figure out what had happened that morning. Dean never said much; just that he wasn’t wanted there anymore.

Half an hour later Sam and Dean were in the car, driving to pick-up Jo at the Roadhouse. They drove for a few minutes in comfortable silence before Sam started in on him.

“So you aren’t mad at Jo, or you wouldn’t be picking her up. Was it Benny? I didn’t think you were with him on Friday. Who were you with on Friday? You don’t have that many friends, so who could it really be? I mean maybe it was Benny. But you never get mad at Benny. Even after that one time last summer, you were sort of annoyed, but never really—“

“Sam!”

Sam finally paused, looking at Dean with a confused expression on his face.

“What?”

“Do you ever stop talking? Jesus when do you breathe,” Dean half-joked, just glad to have interrupted his brother’s long-winded speech. He pulled up outside the Roadhouse, and a little blonde came strolling out the front doors before Sam could start up again. Jo slumped down in the back seat, dropping her bag next to her.

“Good morning, Winchesters! How are we today?”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam beat him to it.

“Dean is angry at someone but he won’t say who. I thought it was you, but you guys seem fine. Or whatever. But he’s been pissy all weekend, so maybe he’ll tell you.”

Dean glanced in his rearview mirror as he drove away, catching Jo’s raised eyebrows. He sighed.

“Little brother, you really gotta learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“Dean, shut up. Your brother is right. Unfortunately, Sammy, I don’t think I’ll have much luck either.”

Sam hit him with his signature “I told you so” face as Dean pulled up to the curb at the middle school.

“Ha, ha, ha. Get out of my car.”

“Love you too!”

Sam yelled over his shoulder as he hopped out and hurried over to two girls, a small blonde with ringlets and a petite brunette. Jo clambered over the seat, joining Dean in the front.

“Damn it, Jo. Do you have to climb over?”

“Yes. Especially when you’re being a grade-A ass. Now are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to pull out the big guns?”

Dean just laughed. “Big guns? I’d love to see you try Harvelle.”

Her face turned surprisingly serious, and she turned to face him almost completely. “I’m serious Dean. You should’ve seen your face Saturday morning. You looked wrecked. Like someone just fucking broke you or some shit. So sue me for being worried about you.”

Dean didn’t answer. He just focused on the road in front of him, watching the yellow dashed lines flying past. He was driving faster than he should’ve been, but the road was straight and it felt good to burn some pavement under his tires.

“Dean I’m serious,” Jo snapped her fingers in front of his face, forcing him to focus on her. “What did Cas do?”

The sound of Cas’ name felt like a slap to the face, and Dean felt a fresh throb in his chest, the same ache he’d been feeling since he closed the front door on Saturday.

“He didn’t do anything. Some guy named Balthazar called and he clearly wanted nothing else to do with me. So I fucked him and I left, like a good little one-night stand. That’s it.”

Dean felt the hurt and anger boiling inside of him, threatening to burst at any second. It took all of five seconds for Dean to fall for Cas, the same amount of time it took for Cas to toss him out when someone better came along.

Jo was right. Someone had broken him. And here he was, putting himself back together.

‘That’s clearly not it, Dean. You’re allowed to be upset. I just don’t understand why Balthazar would’ve been calling.”

“You know him?” There were so many things Dean wanted to hear. Among them “it isn’t what you think”, “Cas isn’t fucking that guy”, “he didn’t mean to kick you out”, “he’s sorry”, “he wants you”. Jo didn’t say any of those things.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve met him. He doesn’t go to Lawrence. He’s at the university, I think. Him and Cas have known each other for a while. If you ask me, they’re pretty shitty together, always breaking up and getting back together—“

“So you knew? You knew about this guy and you let me—“

Dean cut himself off, feeling the anger rising in his voice. He jerked the car to a stop in a parking spot at the high school, whipping around to stare at Jo.

“Dean I swear, I had no idea. I thought they were done. Balthazar hasn’t been around for weeks. Last I heard they fought and Cas kicked his ass to the curb. Cas hasn’t been himself in a while and then Friday night, Friday night he was so happy and flirty and snarky and I just, I hadn’t seen him like that in so long, and it was you, it was just you that brought him back and I thought that maybe—“

Dean slammed his hands on the steering wheel, cutting Jo off. He couldn’t listen to this. He dropped his head to the wheel, making the horn bleep loudly.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.” It really wasn’t. This wasn’t on Jo. It was on him.

They sat like that for a while; Dean’s head resting on the steering wheel while Jo scratched his back with her nails. It was calming, and eventually his grip on the wheel loosened enough so he could drop his hands into his lap.

“Let’s go inside. You’re going to be fine.”

Dean let Jo herd him inside, leading him towards homeroom. He didn’t really pay attention to the crowds, keeping his brain singularly focused on Jo walking next to him.

The beginning of the day passed without excitement, and when he reached lunch Dean automatically sought out Benny in the cafeteria. He found the other boy sitting alone, and slumped down across from him.

“Uh oh. What’s up with you, brother?”

“Don’t wanna know.”

Benny gestured at the hickey beneath Dean’s ear. “Uh huh. Sure. Seems like your weekend was pretty uneventful anyway.”

Before Dean could respond, he felt long nails scratch at his scalp and smelled a familiar flowery perfume. He shivered at the sensation.

“Hey Dean,” Lisa said as she sat down next to him, sliding her nails down his neck and back.

“Um, h-hey, uh, hi,” Dean stammered, blushing automatically. Benny raised his eyebrows at Dean’s inability to speak, clearly looking surprised to see her. Girls like Lisa didn’t talk to guys like Dean and Benny, let alone sit with them at lunch.

“Quit scaring the kid, jeeze.” That voice belonged to Charlie, and soon Dean found himself at a table surrounded by everyone from the previous Friday. He tried to conceal his shock, unsure of why they all suddenly deemed him worthy of their attention.

Missing from the table was a shock of dark brown hair and a pair of blue eyes, so Dean counted his blessings for the time being.

Jo sat down on his left, giving him and apologetic look for her friends and squeezing the back of his neck gently. Lisa continued to scratch his back like Jo had that morning, and Dean wondered if Jo had tipped her off about his weakness.

The group settled into rather rambunctious conversation, every one of them trying to be heard over the others. Dean just sat back and listened, not sure that he had the energy to participate today.

When Cas finally did show up, Dean barely recognized him. He had on jeans that fit him well, but were worn and tattered looking. The dark red zip-up he was wearing over his grey V-neck looked a size too big, and the hood was up over his head so only the front part of his hair was visible. He looked, for lack of a better word, tired. The dark circles under his eyes looked even more severe than they had looked on Friday night, and his face looked flushed and pale. His movements had a sluggishness to them that made it seem like moving at all was an exertion.

He sunk down on the opposite side of the table next to Gabe, looking like he wanted to curl in on himself. He looked sad and beautiful in a broken sort of way, and Dean wished with everything he had that he could make those dull eyes light up again.

When his gaze moved to Dean, he had to force himself not to flinch away. Dean looked back, but they never made eye contact. Instead, Cas’ eyes watched how Lisa was stroking his back, how the tension melted out of Dean at her touch, how the space between them closed as she slid closer to speak into his ear.

“He’s a possessive little thing,” she whispered, smiling and using her other hand to cup Dean’s cheek, pulling his face closer to her. “I’m sorry for being a drunk bitch on Friday. Let’s be friends?”

She pulled back slightly to look at his eyes, a sneaky smile on her face. Dean opened his mouth to inhale, letting his eyes travel over her body. Honestly, he was too surprised to respond, and he was sure the look on his face was playing into her game. She grinned and brought her lips back to his ear.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now let’s fuck with him.”

She kissed him on the cheek and pulled away, winking at Cas before leaning across the table to talk with Benny. Cas on the other hand, whose eyes had never left them during the entire exchange, looked like he wanted to leap across the table and wring her pretty little neck. Dean might have fallen in love with her in that moment, and for the first time he didn’t feel completely alone in his suffering.

“You look like you had a hell of a night, Clarence.” Dean couldn’t see her, but he easily recognized Meg’s nasally voice. “And on a Sunday too?”

“Especially on Sunday,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh the perks of having an oh-so-cool college boyfriend,” Anna teased.

The words hit Dean like a punch to the stomach. Boyfriend. Yeah, he needed to leave this table right now. He shifted to get up, and Lisa and Jo both immediately stopped him from moving. Jo shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Lisa leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“No running away, babe. Hang tight.”

The ache in his chest throbbed harder, but he complied. She was right. No running away.

“Who says I was with Balthazar?” Cas winked at her, trying a little bit too hard to pull off the careless vibe.

Gabe reached over and pulled Cas’ hood off, exposing several hickeys and other marks that were clearly made by teeth.

“Those do. I think we all know Balth’s handiwork by now. Plus you reek of smoke. Happy reunion, I take it?”

Dean felt like he was going to hurl. How was it fair that he still had to bear Cas’ marks while the other boy got fucking chewed on by his college boyfriend? And now he had to sit and watch Cas blush about it.

“Fuck off,” Cas smirked again, none of it reaching his eyes. He reached back and pulled his hood up again, and Dean was just thankful he didn’t have to look anymore.

The conversation turned elsewhere, splitting off into smaller groups. Dean turned towards Jo, wanting to get away from that table.

“Can I leave now?”

Jo looked at him sadly, and he hated the pity he saw on her face. He didn’t need pity. She just nodded at him, so he got up with as much calm as he could muster and wandered into the hallway towards his locker. Class would be starting soon anyway, and he wanted to do some quick review before his Chemistry quiz after lunch.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and soon enough he found himself at his locker gathering his stuff before meeting Jo to head home. He was digging out his books when he felt someone touch the mark beneath his ear, the smell of smoke and unfamiliar cologne surrounding him.

“I didn’t realize it would last this long, though I can’t say I’m not proud.”

Dean whipped around and saw Cas standing there, much closer than Dean wanted him to be. He reached up a hand and pulled Dean’s hoodie aside, lifting his collar to see the other barely concealed hickeys there.

“Proud?” Dean asked incredulously, unable to comprehend what he’d just heard. Up close Cas didn’t look any better, his eyes seeming unfocused and far away.

“Mmmm. I really did a number on you.”

Dean shoved his hand away and slammed his locker. No way was he going to stand here and be desperate. Cas looked shocked, like he hadn’t expected Dean to react.

“It was alright. But if you’re looking for compliments, I’m sure your boyfriend would be happy to give them to you.”

With that he blew past Cas, walking down the hallway as confidently as he could manage. Thank the lord Jo and Lisa were standing up ahead of him, questioning looks on both their faces. He didn’t stop when he reached them; they just turned and continued walking with him. Lisa easily slipped her arm around his waist, providing some support for his shaking body. He couldn’t really lean on her tiny frame, but the gesture was there.

“What the hell was that?” Jo asked, sounding worried.

“Don’t ask. I think I’m gonna puke.”

Lisa laughed. “Well isn’t that sexy.”

He managed to make it to the impala before he collapsed into the front seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles started turning white.

“You okay?” Jo asked softly, carefully.

Dean exhaled slowly and released the steering wheel, forcing himself to be okay. He was fine. Everything was fine.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good.”

And then he looked up. Directly across the parking lot he saw Cas, walking towards a person he assumed was Balthazar. The other guy wore dark, perfectly fitting jeans with a black V-neck, his dirty blonde hair just a little bit messy. He had a smirk on his face to rival Cas’ own, and was sporting what looked like yesterday’s five-o-clock shadow. He said something to Cas as he got closer, flicking away the lit cigarette in his fingers before grabbing him by the waist and pushing him up against the side of his enormous truck. Balthazar kissed him rough and possessive, pulling at the hair at the base of Cas’ neck.

“Ugh,” Lisa scoffed, sitting now in the back seat. “I hate him. Don’t you just hate him? Like, go back to college. Asshole.”

Jo said something in response that got lost in the rumble of the impala’s engine. Dean pulled out of the parking lot and set off towards the middle school to pick up Sam. He had seen enough today, he didn’t need this too. He wished he could scrub the image from his mind, forget what it was like to watch someone else claim Cas’ lips, or to watch someone else’s fingers run through his dark hair.

Lisa and Jo continued to talk on the drive over to the middle school, but Dean wasn’t really listening. He maneuvered around the parking lot, avoiding all the neutral colored mini-vans and Suburban’s. God help him if he ever owned a car like that. Sam spotted him in the parking lot pretty quickly, strolling over to the car with the petite brunette from that morning in tow.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean greeted him, throwing on his best smile. “No Jess today?”

“Her mom picked her up,” the little brunette chimed in. “Just me. Your favorite.”

“Nice to see you too, Ruby.”

“Are you in a better mood now?” Sam asked, eyeing Lisa sitting next to him. She blew him a kiss, and Sam paled like he’d seen a ghost.

“I told you this morning Sam, I’m fine.” Sam gave him a look that said that in no way was he buying Dean’s bullshit.

“The answer to your question,” Jo interrupted, “is yes. He’s doing better. Or he will be.” Jo smiled at him, placing her hand on his cheek for a second before facing forward again.

“Good. You’re exhausting to be around when you’re grumpy.”

The car filled with light laughter, and for a second Dean let himself believe his best friend. Once they made it home and past his mom in the kitchen, Dean, Jo, and Lisa all wandered upstairs to his room. The girls flopped down on his bed, and Dean sunk down into his desk chair.

“Wanna get rid of those hickeys?”

Dean looked over at Lisa who was holding a rounded tube of lipstick in her fingers. He raised his eyebrows, not sure what she intended to do with it.

“With lipstick?”

“Ye of little faith. Shirt off, let’s see the damage.”

He tugged his shirt over his head, incredibly conscious of how the girls were surveying him.

“Sorry to be the one to say this,” Lisa started, “but the sex must’ve been fan-fucking-tastic. I mean jeeze. Like seriously, Jo look at that one! Was it good?”

She pointed at a mark that sat particularly low on his hips, partially hidden by his jeans. Her voice was warm and amused, and her words almost didn’t sting.

“Please don’t answer that,” Jo said, before Dean could come up with a good non-answer. “101 things I don’t need to know about my best friend. This is all you, Lis. ”

She flopped back down on the bed, throwing her arm over her eyes. Lisa had him stay sitting as she worked on each one.

“Hickey’s are just blood pooling under the skin. Rub it out, make the blood disperse, and voila! No more hickey,” she explained, clearly pleased with herself.

She pressed the lipstick tube into his skin, pushing hard and twisting the rounded cap on each mark. It took some time, and it hurt, but anytime Dean opened his mouth to hiss or complain Lisa just shushed him and told him to “stop fucking biters” if he didn’t want to walk away with a few bruises. She sent him off to the bathroom after she was done to look, and Dean silently said his thanks that the torture was over.

However much he had doubted her, her method had worked. His skin was splotchy and red in places, but other than that it was mostly back to normal. He went back to his room to thank her, fairly sure that it was relief that he was feeling.

“The redness will fade. Now you can act like it never happened.”

Dean smiled. Yeah. Like it never happened.

Chapter Text

Dean spent Tuesday and Wednesday morning preparing himself to have contact with Cas at school. On Thursday he was fairly sure there would be no more encounters. By Friday, he stopped expecting to even see him.

“You’re allowed to ask me about him, you know.”

Dean pulled himself out of his momentary daydream, looking at Jo who was sitting next to him at their lunch table. He didn’t usually see Jo that much during school, seeing as their friend groups didn’t exactly overlap. This last week, however, had been drastically different. Like Dean and Benny had suddenly been pulled out of their nerddom to join the popular kids.

It wasn’t just lunch either. Charlie and Ash had sought him out during their Intro to Computer Science class, giving him some tips along the way and showing him some stuff he was pretty sure wasn’t strictly legal. In Chemistry he was joined by Michael and Victor, both of whom seemed to be heroically terrible at science and maybe only sat with him to mooch off his good grades. Meg and Anna found him in European History, Lisa in Calculus, and Dorothy in English. He was thankful that he and Benny had PE to themselves, because the whole transition to popularity was a bit overwhelming for him.

Benny, on the other hand, loved it, and Dean had to admit that for the most part, he enjoyed their company. Much to his own surprise.

“Um, what? Ask about who?” He played dumb, hoping Jo would drop it. Honestly he should’ve known better.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He couldn’t force himself to say the name out loud.

“What would I even ask? I mean he hasn’t even been at school all week—“

“Told you he noticed,” Jo interrupted, talking over the table at Lisa who was sitting across from them.

“Why do I ever doubt you?” she laughed, shifting so she was facing the opposite end of the table. “Hey Gabe!”

“What’s up, baby cakes?” he heard Gabe respond from somewhere to his right.

“Do you know where our darling Castiel has been all week? Seems he’s missed a bit of school.”

“No clue. You know how Balthazar likes to keep him hostage. Ya know, since high school is such a bore and all.”

Dean’s heart sunk. Of course he was with Balthazar. Dean looked back at Jo, the amusement draining from her face while guilt took its place.

“That’s why I never ask,” he said, smiling as much as he could manage.

“Like I told you. They’re shitty together.”

Michael came up behind them, putting his big hands on Dean’s shoulders and shaking him slightly.

“Yo, Winchester! Chem time! Let’s go we need you brainiac.”

He smiled at Jo and winked, making her blush, before walking away. Dean got up and followed him and Victor to class, rolling his eyes at her. At that moment he was relatively happy to have two fairly incompetent chemistry students with him; his brain needed the distraction.

After school he spent a bit of time with Jo and Lisa at the Roadhouse before heading home. He usually spent his Friday nights with Benny, but the other boy had actually for once in his life made plans to socialize with their new friends. Jo also said she “had plans,” but him and Lisa both knew that was just code for “going to see Michael.” Ruby was over with Sam again, and quite honestly he was a bit relieved. He needed some time to himself. His mom asked about Jo and Ellen, as usual, and his dad grumbled something about the car needing a tune up. He promised to work on it over the weekend before heading upstairs, wanting nothing more than to crash on his bed and catch some sleep.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of his phone vibrating in his bed. He fumbled around until his hand touched the warm metal, answering it without bothering to open his eyes.

“Mm ‘ello?” he sighed, his brain entirely too sleepy for words.

“Dean?”

He bolted up in bed, immediately recognizing the deep voice on the other end of the line.

“C-Cas?”

“God you sound hot when you’re sleeping.”

The words were slurred just enough that Dean knew he wasn’t sober, but he could still hear the smile in his voice. Cas was drunk calling him, an idea that took him a couple of seconds to process even while he rolled his eyes at the greeting.

“Um, how did, uh, how did you, um, get my number?” His brain was scrambling for words, trying to piece together coherent thoughts.

“Does it matter?” Dean didn’t respond. “I, uh, s’kinda hoping you would come pick me up.”

“Me? Why not any of your other friends?”

Cas paused for a long time, and if it weren’t for his breathing on the other end of the line Dean would’ve sworn he’d hung up.

“I wanted t’see you.”

Dean paused at that. Cas was drunk. Cas wanted to see him. Cas seemed to be alone. This was a bad idea. His brain clearly had no interest in listening.

“What happened to—?”

“Explain later. ’S cold here.”

It turned out that Cas was sitting on the side of the freeway someplace about twenty minutes from Dean’s house, which took forever to figure out over the phone. Luckily Cas was within eyesight of a road sign, which gave Dean enough info to at least guess where he probably was. He left as soon as he could pull his jeans and boots on. They stayed on the phone the entire time; neither of them spoke, but Cas was humming softly into the phone and Dean was content with that.

Dean finally spotted Cas sitting on the side of the road, arms wrapped around himself and his hands moving in an attempt to keep his bare arms warm. He was staring down at his dirty converse, looking up only when the impala’s headlights hit him. He squinted slightly, tilting his head to the side in a gesture that Dean had become far too familiar with in such a short time.

If Dean thought he looked shitty on Monday, he had another thing coming.

He had on those black jeans again, with a baggy, striped tank top that wasn’t nearly warm enough for the cool weather. His hair was sticking up, as usual, but in a way that looked like someone had fisted a hand in the dark strands. And not in a friendly way.

When Cas didn’t move Dean hopped out of the car, walking over to the other boy and squatting in front of him. He held Cas’ chin with his thumb and forefinger, sure to be gentle and careful, trying not to caress the skin. Up close, he noticed how the circles under his eyes took on a blueish hue, how the coloring around his dilated pupils looked way closer to grey than any shade of blue. Dean tried not to notice the handful of hickeys on Cas’ neck and shoulders.

He looked Dean straight in the eyes, and yet somehow managed to stare straight through him. There was no focus there, and Dean knew the boy he had cuddled with and kissed and cared for on Saturday morning wasn’t present at the moment. He felt a sort of sadness settle over him, but he knew it wasn’t for himself. He was sad for the boy in front of him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“In my professional opinion, I’d say you’re a little bit intoxicated.”

Cas smirked at him lazily.

“Winchester, I been drunk since Saturday. Saturday at…when’d you leave? Twelve…twelve thirty-six?”

What? Dean felt his face heat up as he blushed at Cas’ words. Since he left? But why…why did that matter? And why did Cas remember the exact time? None of this was making any sense to him. Cas just grinned toothily.

“Twelve thirty-six. That’s it. Maybe I’ll say twelve thirty-seven. ‘Bout how long it took you to run out the front door. Tryin’ t’make it to a week.”

Dean sat back abruptly, releasing Cas’ chin and sitting down on the cold pavement. He wrapped his arms around his raised knees, unconsciously pulling away from the other boy. Cas’ head fell forward before he regained control of his neck, struggling to hold his head upright.

“I ran out the door? Cas you basically told me to leave.”

“What?”

He looked genuinely surprised, like he never expected those words to come out of Dean’s mouth in a million years.

“I didn’t—I just needed a minute. I didn’t think you would run out the door, I mean I never would have—why would I just—Dean I asked you to stay. I told you I wanted you to stay with me. Do you even know how many people I—?”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he leaned forward to place a cold hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean shivered but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want Cas to stop talking.

“For the whole day. For all of Sunday. For all of Monday. All damn week. I would have stayed with you. I just—I was panicked and distracted and I needed—just a minute or two and—and then you just—you were gone. I couldn’t make you come back. And I was—and what was I supposed to do?”

Dean had to force himself not to look away. The pain in Cas’ eyes was so raw, so uninhibited, Dean wasn’t sure how to face it. Part of that, at least some of it, was because of him.

He wanted to kiss him. He should have kissed him. He should have held him and never let go. He should have wiped away his unshed tears. He should have helped him sleep away those ugly bruises. He should have lit up those big blue eyes again.

He didn’t do any of those things.

He just looked at Cas, who eventually dropped his hand and curled back into himself, letting his head sag forwards.

"Were you drunk? On Monday?"

Cas didn't look up at him. "Only a lil' bit. Wanted to try to talk t'you. Fucked that up."

"You were kind of an asshole," Dean smiled, but he wasn't really joking. Cas looked up and smirked at him, another fake grin that failed to reach his eyes.

"Hi, I'm Castiel. Nice t'meet you."

It felt odd to hear him say his full name like that. Dean wondered what it would sound like coming out of his own mouth.

“What, um, what happened out here? Were you with Balthazar?”

“Fuck him,” Cas growled, his voice switching from amused to pissed in a split second.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

Cas glared at him. “Sure, Dean. Les’have story time. We were at a party. Both got hammered,” he gestured at himself, as if he was demonstrating his drunkenness. “Balth wanted to drive home. Told him no. Got manhandled into the car and he drove like a maniac for a couple of minutes before I threatened to jump out if he didn’t stop. So he did. Said I could get out or quit whining like a bitch. I got out. He left. And they lived happily ev’after. Or some shit.”

Dean was truly and honestly appalled. He quickly calculated the chances that he could find Balthazar’s address on Cas’ phone and go strangle the guy himself. He was pretty sure he could take him.

“Sorry Cas, but uh, that’s pretty fucked up.”

“Thanks Sherlock, I’ad no fucking idea.” His head slumped forward again as he refocused his attention on his shoes.

Dean wanted to fill the silence, but he had no clue what to say. Luckily, Cas did it for him. He lifted his head slightly, peering at Dean through his thick lashes.

“S’tell me something. When you left my bed, d’you go straight to Lisa’s? Or d’you at least shower first?”

The comment hit Dean like a punch to the gut. He knew Cas was striking out, knew that he was frustrated, but that didn’t stop him from feeling shitty. He leaned forward, threading his fingers gently through Cas’ hair before responding.

“It’s not like that with her. She was just being a friend.”

Cas lifted his head to look at him directly, and Dean could see hope peeking through the suspicion. Dean let one hand settle on the back of Cas’ neck, bringing the other hand up to cup his cheek and stroke his bottom lip with his thumb.

“It’s not like this.”

In that moment, Dean was completely unaware of everything around him. He didn’t notice the impala still running behind him, or the cold, hard pavement under his butt, or the wind settling a chill in his bones. All he could see was Cas, so beautiful and sad, and he needed him to hear those words—even if he wouldn’t remember them.

“Where are your parents?”

Dean knew it would break the spell, but he also wasn’t trying to get him in trouble by bringing him home to pissed off adults. He was pretty sure Mary would be okay with Cas staying at the house, if necessary. Either way he knew he had to get Cas someplace warm pretty quickly. His speech was deteriorating, and his lips looked a little bit purple. Cas laughed harshly, pulling back out of Dean’s reach.

“Outta town. Always outta town. Dad’s been out of town since I’as six. Mom’s only here when she’s gotta be. But hey! Dad left us cash. Whas’there t’be mad about?”

Dean’s heart broke again for him.

“Let’s get you home then, hmm?”

Cas just nodded, never looking up from his shoes. Dean helped him into the passenger side before climbing in himself, setting off towards Cas’ place. He made it all of one mile before Cas fell asleep, lying down across the front seat. He rested his head on Dean’s leg and snored softly, not waking up once on the drive home.

His memory failed him a little bit, and it took him longer than necessary to find Cas’ house again. He’d only been there the one time, with Jo’s instrucions, so he was actually sort of surprised that he found it at all. He pulled in the driveway and sent a quick text to Sam, something about a friend emergency and that he would be back sometime on Saturday.

He patted down Cas’ pockets and found his cell phone and a set of what he assumed were house keys. Cas didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, so Dean opted to carry him into the house and upstairs. It was oddly reminiscent of their first night together, albeit much less fun. Dean recalled Cas’ murmured instructions between heated kisses, and found the boy’s bedroom with ease.

Cas whined when Dean laid him down on the bed, murmuring something that Dean couldn’t understand. He gestured at his sneakers, so Dean took the hint to pull them off and toss them on the floor. Dean hesitated when Cas started to fumble with his jeans, but decided to help him anyway. Cas seemed to decide that was sufficient, sinking down into his bed wearing his tank top, boxer briefs, and tall white socks. Dean wanted to laugh, but he controlled himself.

“Dean?” Cas murmured sleepily, reaching a hand across the bed towards him.

“Yeah Cas?”

“Don't leave this time.”

His voice was so clear; Dean wanted to believe he was sober. As it was, he knew Cas would probably wake up to regret all of this in the morning, only to run off with Balthazar again.

Right then, Dean didn’t care. He was going to be there for Cas this time. He barely knew anything about this guy, and yet he felt so fiercely protective. No way in hell would he run away again.

“Yeah, um, sure. I’m not leaving.”

He lay down next to Cas, who immediately wrapped his limbs around him and pressed his cold nose into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean wanted to be annoyed, but Cas was doing his best monkey impression and mostly it just made Dean happy.

Cas hummed quietly for a moment or two before falling back into a deep, drunken sleep. Dean was reminded again of their first night, of the feeling he had then as he lay on top of Cas, kissing him and grinding against his erection. The feeling that this was a beginning, a start of something. He felt it again, and he hoped to God that he wasn’t wrong this time.

Almost as if on cue, Cas’ phone started to vibrate. Dean snatched it off the nightstand where he had set it down along with the keys. He stared at the screen, unsurprised to see the name ‘Balthazar’ staring back at him once again. He ignored the call, only to see a handful of text messages pop-up on the screen. He was itching to read them, but decided against it.

The phone vibrated four more times and Dean ignored four more calls before he finally picked up on the fifth one.

“Cassie? Baby you okay? Where are you? Let me come pick you up. I’m sorry I was—“

Dean cut him off, tired of listening to his stupid accent and his stupid pet names.

“Fuck off, asshole. Don’t call back.”

“What? Who is th—“

Dean hung up and turned the phone off. He wasn’t sure where that bit of bravery came from, but he sure was glad for it in that moment. Cas shifted slightly in his sleep, snuggling closer and nuzzling Dean’s chest. Maybe Cas didn’t want him, and maybe he would kick him out in the morning.

No matter what, Cas deserved a hell of a lot better than Balthazar.

Chapter Text

Dean slept well that night, surprisingly enough. Cas’ limbs made breathing a significantly more difficult task, but he found himself enjoying it. In a way. He woke up before Cas, trying to pull his phone out of his pocket without waking the other boy. The screen was too bright on his tired eyes, the clock reading a bit after nine. He had a text from Sam, something about Dad not being happy and Mom being worried but happy to know where he was.

Great. He’d have to deal with John later.

Cas’ head was tucked under his chin still, and Dean felt him stir against his chest. Dean tried not to stiffen, mentally preparing himself for the blow of Cas pulling away again.

Until…he didn’t.

“This seems to be turning into a trend. You in my bed on Saturdays,” he mumbled into Dean’s t-shirt, not bothering to pull away before speaking. He moved his head up and down, rubbing his face against the cotton.

“What’re you…?” Dean paused, trying to look down at Cas but not seeing much with the mess of dark brown hair blocking his view. “Are you itching your face on my shirt?”

“Mmmph.”

He felt Cas smile while his own lips curved up just slightly.

“I had no idea you were such a cat.”

“Think I’m still a bit drunk.”

“A bit?”

“Just a bit. A bit.”

Silence stretched in the room, oddly comfortable and not stifling in the least. Dean, for the first time, didn’t feel the need to speak. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, sliding his free hand into Cas’ hair to smooth the brown strands. Cas hummed, a tune Dean didn’t recognize. The ache in his chest didn’t feel quite so sharp.

“Don't remember much after Balth left. I’ll assume I called you. If I didn’t, then how dare you climb in my window and take advantage of my inebriation.”

“I didn’t climb in the window. The front door was unlocked. I used the stairs.”

Cas smiled and his shoulders shook slightly, like he was holding in a laugh.

“Think I’ll feel worse if I move? Tastes like something died in my mouth.”

“Coming down from a week of being drunk, I’d, uh, say you’re gonna feel terrible no matter what.”

“I told you that, huh?”

“You, uh, you said a lot of stuff.”

His body almost physically locked up, all of his being unsure of what to do. Was he supposed to forget what Cas said? Take his words as drunken blabbering and nothing more?

Tendrils of hope from the night before still clung to him, a small part still searching for some truth in the other boy’s words. Not that he would ever admit to it.

Cas pulled away slowly, untangling his limbs and dragging his body into a sitting position on the bed. There was about two and a half inches of space between them. Not that he was counting. Dean felt awkward lying down, so he forced himself up as well, towards his side of the bed.

Four inches.

Cas looked tired and unfocused, a blank mask covering his features. There was no more raw emotion in his eyes, making them about a million times easier to look into; not that that meant much to Dean. He was avoiding them either way. They were in the ballpark of blue again though, which Dean took as a good sign. The bags under his eyes looked softer, but not any lighter.

He was sitting with his back resting against the pillows and headboard behind him, one leg bent away from Dean and the other stretched out on the bed. He moved his neck from side to side until it cracked with a sigh. Cas rolled his shoulders back and straightened his neck, almost as if he was trying to take up space. He was staring at his feet, flexing and moving his toes inside the white stocks.

Dean, by contrast, felt very small. His frame was larger than Cas’ in width and height. He had more meat and muscle on his bones. And yet here he sat, his knees pulled up to his chest and his forearms locked around them in a way that he hoped looked casual.

Cas, who two seconds earlier had been wrapped around him like vines, now sat four fucking inches away from him, cold and impersonal, separated from the situation. Dean’s only small comfort was that Cas still looked sort of ridiculous in his clothing combination from the night before; not that the other boy seemed to have noticed.

“Look, I don’t know what I said or did last night,” Cas started, and Dean instinctively mapped out the rest of the conversation in his head. At least he wouldn’t have to wait for Jo this time before he could leave. Benny’s house sounded like a good place to hide from his problems; though he might have to actually wake Benny up when he got there. “Maybe we should just start at the beginning. Just…talk.”

Dean was already turning his body to get up from the bed when the words came crashing into his skull. He paused.

“You don’t want me to leave?”

The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. Cas looked at him slowly, tilting his head to the side just a bit more than was natural. His mouth opened, filled with unspoken words, like it couldn’t decide which ones would serve it best. Dean searched the curves of his lips, the squint of his eyes, the scrunch of his nose, trying to find any traces of the thoughts racing through Cas’ head.

“No. I don’t. So start listening because this story ends as soon as the buzz wears off. Hold all questions till the end.”

Dean just nodded. Whatever this story was, Cas seemed to think it was important.

“Fuck I don’t know why I’m telling you this. My dad walked out on us when I was six. Maybe it’s more appropriate to say that he flew to LA with all his stuff and never flew back. Don’t really know why, Mom won’t talk about it. Something to do with work. I took it pretty hard, but I was a kid. Mom took it harder.

She started going out of town more, working more. I had a nanny during the year, and as soon as I was old enough she sent me off to summer camp in Fort Worth. That’s where I met Balthazar. He was a twelve-year-old troublemaker, and my ten-year-old self idolized him. He showed me how to climb a tree, how to shoot an airsoft gun, how to flirt with girls. Eventually it became how to smoke a cigarette, how to shotgun a beer. And at the end of every summer, Balth moved back to Philadelphia and I came back here, to Lawrence.

When I was fifteen I told him I thought I was bi. He kissed me to make sure. That was his last summer at camp; he’d go to college the next summer. He never mentioned that we were both really too old to be there. I didn’t either. He applied here, in Lawrence, sort of as a joke. Turns out it’s the only place that let him in. So he moved here, and I convinced my mom to let me stay home that summer. We started dating after that, but to say we were happy would be a lie.”

Different emotions coursed through Dean faster than he could process what they were. The outpouring of information was overwhelming, but he tried to digest the story even as the shock flowed out of his body. Cas seemed to have discovered something particularly interesting about his socked feet.

“Why do you stay with him?” Dean asked quietly, not sure if he expected an answer.

“He was all I had. I was ten and fatherless and my own mother didn’t care. Yeah, I smoke when I’m with him and I drink too much and I skip school but who gives a shit about that stuff? He was there for me when no one else was. He never walked out on me. How can I just throw that away?”

“Look I, I didn’t know about him. Um, obviously. And then Jo said you guys were broken up, but she was clearly mistaken. So I can just—“

“Would you stop trying to leave?” Cas looked directly at him, tearing his gaze away from his feet again. “Just listen to me. God damn.”

Dean shut up.

“We were broken up when I met you. I’m not that much of an asshole. I honestly didn’t expect to hear from him. He wanted to get back together, I told him no. I don’t think he wanted to lose me completely, so he offered to start with coffee. I was going to just think about it, but then you were gone and I’m weak. So I told him to make it a beer and I’d be there.”

Dean’s ears burned, and he felt himself getting frustrated at the blush in his cheeks. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this. Cas could’ve called him, could’ve called Jo, and could’ve come after him.

“I was being an idiot. But hey,” he looked at Dean again, a smirk on his face, “I have an ego to maintain. And quit blushing. It’s distracting.”

Dean felt a smile tugging at his lips. He looked away from Cas’ blue eyes, already painfully aware of their ability to distract him from pretty much anything else.

“Must’ve been a helluva beer to keep you drunk for a week,” Dean mumbled, staring at his arms still wrapped around his knees. He thought he might have heard a small laugh come from Cas.

“Obviously it turned into more, smartass. But I don’t care about that,” Dean felt the bed move as Cas shifted, threading his fingers through Dean’s and pulling his arms away from his knees. “And neither should you. So can we start over?”

Dean felt Cas’ breath on his face so he looked up, seeing Cas sitting cross-legged across from him with their hands resting on his shins. Something in his eyes made Dean respond, though he couldn’t say exactly what. He just seemed so different from the boy that had sat four inches away from him just minutes before. He still smelled like some fancy cologne and cigarette smoke, and he still had hickeys from his stupid douchey ex, but he was trying.

“I’m Dean Winchester. I like pie, and my car, and I can be a nerd sometimes. I’d like to be a teacher some day. Nice to meet you.”

Cas grinned, like a full-fledged, teeth showing, lips parted grin. Dean tried very hard not to seem surprised, but his pink cheeks might have given him away.

“You’d look hot in some khakis and an ugly tie, all domestic and adorable.”

Dean just gave him a look, raising his eyebrows at the comment. He stared down at his hands that Cas was still holding, the pad of his thumb slowly circling the back of Dean’s palm.

“I’m the domestic one?”

“Shut up. Castiel Novak. Semi-professional fuck-up, sucker for cheeseburgers, good coffee, and green eyes,” a small smirk crossed his lips. “If I had a choice I wouldn’t work a day in my life. I’d travel. Take pictures.”

It made Dean a little sad to hear how radically different their life plans were, but he shoved that thought out of his head almost as quickly as it had appeared. In the grand scheme of his life, this guy would most likely turn out to mean nothing. Just some fling he had at the end of senior year.

“I take it college doesn’t interest you, then?”

“Not in the slightest. Which is why I give zero fucks about getting through high school.”

That made Dean cringe.

“Friendly neighborhood teacher here, but, uh, that’s gonna change. You’re gonna graduate.”

Cas laughed, and Dean felt his throat catch at the sound. A flirty smirk lit up his face, almost making Dean shy away from the unabashed attention.

“Oh am I now?” He leaned closer to Dean, his face only centimeters away from Dean’s own. “Are you going to change my mind?”

Dean kissed him before he could think too much about it. It was slow and questioning, his heart racing while he waited to see how Cas would respond. He felt a small smile against his mouth before Cas kissed him back, harder and more urgent. Dean let it continue for a couple of seconds before pulling back slowly, letting his lips linger for precious seconds before separating completely. His heart was beating fast, and his brain flooded with memories of those pink lips against his skin.

“I think I could. What do you think?”

“Asshole,” Cas muttered, leaning towards Dean for another kiss.

“Ah,” Dean leaned back, stopping his progression. “I’m, uh, not really trying to be your rebound. And considering I basically peeled you off the pavement last night after you got ditched…”

“I'm getting some mixed signals from you, Winchester. And I didn’t get ditched. But I get it.”

“Friends for now?”

Cas groaned loudly, falling onto his back and letting go of Dean’s hands. He was sprawled across the bed, his head hanging off the opposite side.

“Please spare me that speech. For my own fucking sanity.”

Dean just laughed.

“I should probably be getting home,” Dean started. “I think my dad is pretty pissed off. Running off with the car and all. I’d rather get home before he calls.”

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed in agreement. “Speaking of, would you perhaps know where my phone is?” He lifted himself up so he could look at Dean while he spoke.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

Dean reached into his pocket and produced Cas’ phone, still powered off from the night before. He dropped it into Cas’ lap.

“Might I ask why it’s turned off?” Cas asked, pressing the power button.

“Um…”

Dean didn’t have a chance to come up with an explanation before the power came on completely. The phone started vibrating like crazy as text messages, missed calls, and voicemails from the night before starting pouring in.

“Where the fuck are you?” Cas read, staring down at his phone screen.

“Um, well it was vibrating a lot and—“

“Castiel Novak answer me god dammit I’m worried about you,” Cas interrupted, scrolling through the messages. Dean winced.

“I didn’t read them—“

“I don’t want to fight please just tell me you’re safe.”

“I didn’t know—”

Cas’ eyebrows shot up. “Who the fuck just answered your phone?”

“Uh, I might’ve—”

“Tell him to take his ‘fuck off’ and shove it up his—”

“Okay! I get it.”

“I’m sorry. I hope he’s taking care of you.”

Dean winced. Of course the guy had to be nice there at the end.

“Those are the highlights at least. I can give you the more detailed version if you’d prefer.”

Cas’ eyes snapped up from the phone screen and met Dean’s. They looked frustrated, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Hey don’t get pissed at me,” Dean started. An almost tangible tension built in between them, the room suddenly feeling stuffy and too small.

“Why the hell not? Who gave you the right?”

“You did, Cas.” Dean felt the anger rising in his voice. “You did when you called me at four in the fucking morning to come save your ass.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him, sitting forward and decreasing the distance between them.

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him to fuck off and not to call back.”

“Dammit, Dean. Why would you—”

“Because he doesn’t deserve you, Cas!”

He moved quickly, placing his hands on either side of Cas’ face, forcing himself to calm down before he started yelling. His heart was racing, and he just needed Cas to fucking listen.

“Who the fuck leaves someone on the side of the road? Who does that?”

Cas didn’t answer, he just stared into Dean’s eyes, leaning into the pressure of his palms on his cheeks. Dean kept speaking, not sure what else to do.

“Christ, Cas. I barely even know you and I can see that he’s bad for you. You’ve basically said yourself that you’re shitty together. He’s important to you? Fine. That doesn’t mean you throw away your future for him, or stay drunk for six days with him. That’s just—you don’t deserve that.”

The anger melted out of Cas’ eyes as Dean spoke, replaced by something that looked like a mixture of confusion and wonder.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to me?”

The question caught Dean off guard. Honestly, he had no idea.

“I…I don’t know. I just think you’re better than this.”

Cas offered up a small smile, and Dean dropped his hands from the other boy’s cheeks.

“Dean Winchester. Are you ever going to stop surprising me?”

Dean blushed, and Cas smiled in appreciation.

“Now get out of my house before that blush goes away and I change my mind about being mad at you.”

Leaving this time felt different, less permanent. As much as he tried not to, Dean let himself hope that he might be coming back.

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

Dean wanted to hide out at Benny’s, but his parents were almost surely sitting in the kitchen at home, tapping their toes and waiting for the sound of the impala in the driveway. A hot shower and his warm comforter sounded like much better company than an angry father, but Dean rarely got what he wanted. John was speaking before the front door was even closed.

“Where in the hell did you get the idea that it was fine to leave this house in the middle of the goddamn night?”

John stormed into the entryway of the house, face red and angry already. Mary followed behind him, looking worried but not nearly as pissed off.

“Dad I’m sorry I just—”

“You just, what, Dean? You had a ‘friend emergency’?”

He spat the words like they were dirty, and Dean forced himself not to flinch away. Mary started to speak, her expression darkening at her husband’s tirade.

“John, maybe we should listen—”

“Let me handle this,” he snarled, throwing a hand up in her direction. “I will not be disrespected while you are living under my roof. You follow my rules, or that car I so graciously let you use will be gone before you can say—”

“I’m a good kid, Dad!” Dean burst out, and not for the first time in the last week he was surprised to hear the strength in his own voice. His face felt hot, his chest tight with frustration. “I do what you ask, I do well in school, I watch out for Sam. I broke one rule to help out a friend is that really so terrible?”

“A good kid?” John barked out a laugh, loud and sharp and stinging. “Good kids don’t sneak out in the middle of the night. Good sons don’t leave their parents worried sick.”

“John, that’s enough,” Mary put her hand on John’s shoulder, stepping between Dean and his father. “He made a mistake. We can forgive that.”

John said something back in a whisper, the tone of this voice still deep and angry.

“Dad I’m sorry…”

“Not now, Dean. Don’t forget the car needs a tune up.”

He stormed into the kitchen without so much as a glance in Dean's direction. Clearly the rage had yet to filter completely out of his father’s body, but it seemed to have tapered off some. Dean just nodded, hanging his head as he made his way upstairs. The hot shower sounded like a lot of effort right then, while his comfy bed asked for nothing in return.

Dean flopped down on the bed before he even removed his shoes. Traces of exhaustion pricked at the back of his eyes, his body desperate for more hours than it was given the previous evening. Climbing back into bed while his clock still read “AM” was easy to justify. Sleep didn’t immediately come though, despite his body's complaints. With no brown hair tickling his chin, no long arms wrapped around his torso, and no cold nose buried in his neck, sleep proved much harder to achieve.

Although, it was admittedly easier to breathe.

Chapter Text

“Okay so let me get this straight. You drunkenly had hot party sex with one of Jo’s friends that you have been pining over for forever, who is also way out of your league and also happens to have a boyfriend, but then broke up with his boyfriend to go on another tour de Dean but you rejected him. Sound about right?”

Dean snapped the R-trigger several times in quick succession, trying and failing to force the armored character on screen to jump off a balcony and fire a battle rifle at the same time. Benny laughed at his attempt while Dean stared grumpily at his dead body being trampled by little mushroom aliens.

“Uh, missing some details there but sure that’s the gist of it. And I do not pine over her friends, Jesus.”

“Why am I only hearing this now?”

Dean cringed. He already felt guilty about avoiding the subject with Benny. In his defense, up until the day before there hadn’t been much to talk about other than his own embarrassment. He was just lucky his parents even let him out of the house on Sunday.

“I dunno, man. It didn’t matter.”

“And it does now?”

The memory of Cas rubbing his face on Dean’s shirt flitted across his brain. The feeling of Cas’ lips on his own, soft and searching and oh so wonderful.

“Yeah. Yeah I guess it does.”

Benny grinned at him, lopsided and knowing.

“And you do too, you totally pine. Don’t act like you weren’t stoked as hell when Jo forced you to go to that party with her.”

“More like scared as hell. Those people can drink.”

“Brother, I’d say that’s the same thing. I just thought it would be Lisa that you’d go after. Turns out it was someone with a little bit more testosterone. Just a little bit.”

Dean laughed out loud when Benny threw him a wink, both of them only half paying attention to their game now.

“I’ll make sure to tell her you said that,” Dean offered, not needing to look at Benny to know the look of horror that was on his face.

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

This one Monday, probably the first in existence ever, Dean was excited to go to school. He hadn’t talked with Cas since he left Saturday morning. He had his number, sitting in the call log of his cell but never saved with a name. Going on Google and searching “proper etiquette for friendships with ex-one-night-stands” seemed like a good option, but he closed the browser before pressing “enter.”

Jo begged him to pick her up again, which probably was mostly her wanting to hear the full story before they got to school. Dean somehow managed to harass Sam out the door fifteen minutes early, his little brother’s hair still clinging to water from his morning shower.

“Why are you so happy today,” Sam huffed, slumping down in the front seat. Dean popped in a Led Zeppelin tape and cranked up the volume, grinning down at his little brother.

“Cheer up, Sammy,” he yelled, projecting over the music. “It’s your favorite.”

Sam just made a disgusted face and said something that Dean couldn’t hear. He tapped away at his phone, presumably texting Jess or Ruby or both and telling them that his brother had lost his mind.

Jo came strolling towards the car, raising her eyebrows at the loud music. Dean smiled back at her, anticipation rising in his gut. She slid into the back seat, easily reaching over his shoulder to eject the cassette. Sam practically sighed with relief.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the impromptu concert, Winchester, but your complete change in demeanor from your general grumpiness last week makes me think that we have a bit more to talk about than I originally thought.”

Dean just shrugged, not wanting to get into it with Sam in the car. When he didn’t answer Sam looked at him, rolling his eyes dramatically in a very classic-Sam way.

“I’m not a stupid kid, Dean,” he snapped, spinning around to look at Jo with an evil smile on his face. “Dean didn’t come home on Friday. Left in the middle of the night with a ‘friend emergency.’”

Dean winced at Jo’s expression in the mirror. Her eyebrows raised, mouth hanging open, eyes smiling. Like she just found out the world’s biggest, dirtiest secret and couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

“So if it wasn’t your own, whose bed were you in?”

“Things I don’t need to know,” Sam interrupted, and Dean almost collapsed from the relief. He and Sam could have that conversation later, when Jo wasn’t around to pry for all the dirty details. Sam hopped out of the car when it rolled to a stop, and Jo practically fell on top of him in her rush to get into the front seat.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle if you don’t stop climbing over my damn seats I swear to God I will stop picking your ass up,” Dean snapped, only half serious. Maybe three-fourth’s.

She faked pouted at him, fluttering her eyelashes.

“But best friend! How will I get to school!”

“You have your own damn car don’t act so helpless.”

Jo laughed, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I like hanging out with you jeeze,” she dragged the e’s out, laughing while she spoke. “And I thought you were in a better mood. Now fucking spill before I die.”

Dean told her the whole story, mustering as much detail as possible so as to avoid her prying questions after.

“You gave him the let’s be friends speech?! You cuddled and kissed and flirted and then said let’s be friends?!”

Dean threw the car into park at the high school and hopped out before Jo could corner him in the car.

“It sounds way worse when you say it like that.”

He started walking towards the school automatically, knowing that Jo would follow. She appeared at his side, her shorter legs moving faster to keep up with his long strides.

“Look I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m actually pretty impressed that you said no to him, considering last time you ended up with his legs wrapped around your waist. I just…want to make sure you know what you want.”

“What does Dean want?” Lisa strolled up to them, leaning up against the locker next to Dean’s own. He just smiled at her and continued to dig through his stuff, looking for his history textbook.

“Not what,” Jo corrected.

“Who then?” Lisa’s voice filled with excitement. “Dean Winchester!”

She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, wedging herself between his body and the metal locker and forcing him to look at her. He laughed loudly, caught off guard as usual by her complete lack of embarrassment.

“The who isn’t you, Lis,” Jo laughed, crossing her arms and shaking her head at her friend even while her eyes brightened with amusement.

“What do you know, Joanna Beth?” He used his body weight to pin Lisa against the wall of lockers, slotting their bodies together from hip to knee. He threw on his flirtiest grin, staring down at Lisa’s happy face. “Maybe she is the who.”

Lisa squealed in surprise, clearly not expecting him to be so bold and laughing in earnest at Dean’s antics. She slid her hands into Dean’s back pockets, smiling right back with a look he was sure had won over countless members of both sexes.

“Excuse me, Ms. Braeden? I’m going to have to ask you not to manhandle your fellow students in the hallway.”

Dean whipped around to see Cas standing next to him, wearing that damn red hoodie with the hood up again and dark blue jeans hugging his lower body. His hands were in his pockets, a smirk on his face that looked forced. Dean was all of a sudden very aware of where his body was touching Lisa, the feeling of her hands resting on his butt.

“Uh…” Dean tried to speak, but his mouth seemed content to just hang open and useless. He really needed to learn how to not turn into a blubbering idiot around this guy.

“Well you are just no fun at all,” Lisa pouted. “And he started it.”

Lisa winked at him before extricating herself and starting off down the hallway with Jo, who seemed to be very amused with Dean’s current predicament.

“We’re not done here, Winchester. I will find you later,” Jo tossed over her shoulder, somehow managing to sound sweet and innocent in her very transparent threat. Dean cringed, already scared for that conversation.

“I would say I’m surprised, but you didn’t hesitate to put your hands all over me either so maybe being handsy in public is your thing.”

Cas had a look on his face that said he had Dean cornered, and he knew it. Dean’s brain scrambled to force his mouth to form some kind of words.

“I, um, no, not really, I just, um, I don’t know, she’s just, um, I wasn’t trying to—I mean not with Lisa we were just—and I mean your kitchen wasn’t exactly public.”

He rubbed the back of his neck guiltily, his face hot under Cas’ gaze. Cas reached out a hand and trailed his fingers down Dean’s chest softly. Dean tried not to shiver at the contact. Cas let his blue eyes travel over Dean’s body, lazily taking him all in.

He knew he had nothing to feel guilty about, friends don’t tell friends who they can and can’t flirt with in the hallway. Then again, friends also don’t generally get a possessive glint in their eye at the sight of said flirting. And Cas was looking downright predatory.

“So you aren’t trying to get into that young lady’s pants?”

Cas stepped closer to him, fingers dragging along the top of Dean’s jeans. He stared up at Dean through his thick lashes, their proximity clouding his brain.

“Cas I told you we’re just—“

“Friends,” Cas interrupted, his face centimeters away from Dean’s own.

Their eyes locked and Dean felt an overwhelming urge to close the space hanging between them. He placed a hand on Cas’ hip almost subconsciously, wanting so badly to pull the boy closer.

“Good,” Cas murmured as he spun away out of Dean’s reach. Dean almost fell forward, watching the other boy strut down the hallway away from him.

He desperately rifled through his brain, trying his best to figure out why he had insisted on this “just friends” deal they had going. His first encounter with Cas since Friday night and his brain already felt like a puddle of mush.

“Dean-o!”

He spun around at the sound of Meg’s voice, spotting her and Anna standing at the opposite end of the hallway.

“You coming?” Anna chimed in.

“AP Euro waits for no man!”

He set off down the hallway, ready to lose himself in discussions about the role of urbanization in transforming cultural values and the shift of social structures away from hierarchical orders. The ghost of Cas’ fingers was still warm on his waist, his mind already wandering to when he might see the other boy again.

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

“So how do you feel about camping?”

Dean practically fell off of the cafeteria table bench. Cas’ ability to just appear without a noise was not good for his heart, and it was getting downright exhausting. Cas had been doing it all too frequently since the previous Monday, and each time Dean told himself that he would listen harder next time.

During the first week and a half of their budding friendship, Cas didn't push the boundaries—for the most part. He snuck small touches here and there that Dean knew had to be intentional. Fingers on the nape of his neck while they studied in the library, a palm on the small of his back while he stood by his locker, shoulders brushing at the crowded lunch table. Dean blushed each time, but Cas never seemed the least bit affected.

Aside from his growing frustration with their situation, Dean found himself feeling increasingly fond of their new friendship. Sure Cas could be an asshole and he liked to push Dean's buttons, but there was more to him than that. It turned out they had the same free period after Dean's chemistry class, so he learned quickly that Cas was incredibly smart, albeit incredibly lazy when it came to school work. He seemed to enjoy history, something Dean was sure he would never admit to. He complained each day about coming to school, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that eleven days in a row was more school than he had attended in a while. He never ate much either, at least not that Dean ever saw. Although he did seem quite fond of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. In the mornings Dean was likely to catch him with with his hands wrapped around a big mug of steaming black coffee, since he didn't appear to be much of a morning person. Every day the shadows under his eyes grew lighter and lighter, and by that Thursday he finally looked like a normal, sleep-deprived teenager rather than a complete insomniac.

Dean managed to convince himself that it was completely and absolutely normal to pay this much attention to a friend, to learn so much in such a short time. Completely normal. When Jo had finally gotten her hands on him on the previous Tuesday to interrogate him further, he brushed off her questions with some mumbled explanation about wanting to keep things platonic with Cas. She didn't buy it for a second, and Dean couldn't really blame her. He knew he was lying too.

At some point Cas had sat down next to Dean, straddling the bench and leaning forward on his palms. Dean must’ve been staring, because Cas’ smile grew and he leaned closer, the rest of the world falling away while Dean got lost in those damn blue eyes.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

Cas’ eyebrows were raised, like he was waiting for an answer. Had there been a question?

“Camping, Dean, tents. How do you feel about it?”

“Oh, um, it’s good. I like it. Um, why?”

“We’re going. This weekend. You’re going to want a sleeping bag and a pillow.”

Dean did his very best not to look as surprised as he felt.

“We, um, we’re going?”

Cas smirked at him, picking up on the panic that was melting off of him.

“Not alone, so don’t freak out. Balthazar invited me,” Dean felt his chest tighten at the name. He was so hoping that they were past this. “I said I would only go if I got to bring some people. So I’m inviting you.”

“Was this an invitation? You, um, you might want to work on your technique.”

His muscles relaxed at Cas’ words and the laugh that followed. In that case he could handle Balthazar. Probably.

“Shut up. So you’re coming?”

Dean felt familiar hands settle on his back, Jo’s head appearing at his shoulder.

“Coming where? Can I come?”

Cas sighed. “Do you have to?”

“I resent that, Castiel.”

He just laughed, leaning back away from Dean and standing up.

“Take a joke, Jo. Bring anybody you want, Gabe is planning on coming already, Meg probably too. There’s a bunch of sites so there’s room.”

He stepped closer to Dean for just a moment, dragging his fingers through Dean’s hair and tugging his head back so that Dean was staring up at him, a smirk on his face. It was the closest contact Cas had given him thus far, and Dean automatically felt his pulse pick up.

“I call shotgun though.”

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

Dean had a hell of a time convincing his parents to let him go, given the events of the previous weekend. Luckily, Mary was so excited that he wanted to go somewhere with friends instead of just crashing at Benny’s or hanging with Sam that she practically trampled anything John had to say.

“Will there be alcohol or drugs on this trip? Because you know I worry,” she asked him once John had retreated to the garage, concern creasing her forehead for a moment.

“I don’t know, Mom,” Dean tried his best not to crack a smile. “But I’ll be careful.”

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, smiling softly in her motherly way.

“I know. You’re the smart one.”

“Hey!” Sam yelled from the living room where he was sitting, probably reading one of his nerdy books. “I can hear you, you know!”

Mary smiled again, a knowing look in her eyes.

“I already told Jo that I expect you back alive. She made no promises.”

Dean grinned back at her. He would’ve said the same thing to Ellen.

School that Friday flew by faster than Dean expected it to, and before he knew it he was backing out of the driveway to pick up his passengers. Jo and Lisa had kidnapped Benny and taken him in Michael’s car with them, and Dean somehow ended up in his car with Cas, Gabe, Anna, and Meg. Thank God the car ride to the lake was fairly short; he didn’t think he could handle the two girls in a confined space for very long.

He picked up Cas first, anticipation pooling in his belly when he pulled into the driveway. He saw a new-looking sedan parked there, which he deemed to be a new addition. Dean bleeped the horn, hoping that Cas would hear him inside.

Sure enough he came strolling out, wearing dark jeans that tightened at his ankles and hung low on his hips, a loose, worn looking black sweater on top. Dean stared down at his old t-shirt and worn jeans, feeling distinctly under dressed. Cas carried nothing but a duffle bag, which Dean purposefully didn't read into.

“No sleeping bag?” he asked when Cas slid into the front seat.

Cas just shrugged, swiveling his head lazily to look at Dean.

“I don’t have one. I'll find someplace to sleep.”

Dean tried very hard not to hear the question in his voice. A change of topic seemed like a better plan.

“Um, what’s in the bag?”

“Some clothes. Mostly alcohol. I had to bring enough for two,” he smirked, Dean’s pulse quickening.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know. But you’re a fun drunk and hell if I’m going to pass on that opportunity again.”

Time to change topics again. Fast. Before the memories of his hands on Cas’ ass while he carried him up the stairs came flooding back.

“Um, where’s Gabe live?”

While collecting everyone, Dean learned that apparently this camp out was a pretty big deal. University students planned it every year for whoever wanted to come, though it seemed to be pretty rare for highschoolers to attend. Dean was abruptly very grateful for the four people in his car and the other four that were surely on their way as well.

Cas shut off Dean’s music without warning, the sounds of the highway under the tires suddenly very loud.

“Hey!” Dean complained, and Cas just raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’re playing a game. Letters of the alphabet, tell me what you see,” he smiled like a little kid, leaning his back against the door and tucking his feet up on the seat so that his toes were pressed against Dean’s thigh.

“We aren’t five years old, Clarence.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gabe piped up while Anna added: “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Just play the damn game, Meg. And pretend like you’re having fun. Now start.”

Silence stretched in the car for several moments while they all looked around. Grass, some shrubs, the highway, a couple of cars. Maybe they would pass an Acura? Dean glanced over at the dark haired boy smiling in his passenger seat, a lightbulb flickering in his brain. He cleared his throat quietly before speaking.

“A. Asshole.”

He glanced at Cas again in time to catch the surprise that flashed across his face. The three in the back laughed, Anna’s hands reaching over the seat to pat his shoulders. Dean could almost physically see the plan developing in Cas’ eyes, going from laughter to pure evil in a matter of seconds.

“B,” he started, closing the space between them. Dean heroically forced himself to stare at the lines in front of him. “Bottom.”

In all of his 18 years, Dean couldn’t remember blushing as hard as he did right then. The laughter in the back turned to howls and squeals, and Dean contemplated ways that he could crawl out of the car and die without crashing it. Cas’ face was still unnecessarily close to his own, his eyes shining with amusement.

Dean wanted to get lost in those seas, but unfortunately he still had the steering wheel gripped in his hand and had to force his eyes forward.

“You’re on, Mr. Novak.”

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed happily. “I can’t wait Mr. Winchester.”

Chapter Text

Dean was almost immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the camp out. When Cas had said there were several campsites, this was not what he had imagined.

There were five on each side of the road, all facing each other, ten of them in total. Six of them were packed with tents of varying colors and sizes. There was a smattering of two person tents, but mostly larger six or eight person ones. The other four sites seemed to be reserved for various activities. One housed a huge fire pit, two had picnic tables that had been dragged from the other sites as well as a large grill and tons of food, another had a couple of long plastic tables covered in red and blue plastic cups and several coolers filled with who knows how much alcohol.

There were people everywhere, some just chatting, some sipping drinks, some setting up tents, and a couple working on the pile of wood that would later become probably the biggest fire Dean had ever seen.

Meg and Anna hopped out of the car as soon as it stopped, disappearing into the crowd with their bags. The look on Dean’s face must have betrayed his state of mind, because Cas and Gabe just laughed.

“Not what you were expecting?” Gabe asked, sliding across the back seat and placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders.

Dean shook his head slowly. “But how…won’t people hear us? What about the police?”

He suddenly had a very vivid vision of police cars showing up, cuffing him, and throwing him in the back seat for drinking underage.

“It’s early in the season. Nobody is really out camping yet, and if they are they stay in the cabins way over there,” Cas gestured in a general direction to his right. “The campground knows we’re here, and they want the money, so as long as we clean up they leave us alone.”

“You’ve come before?” Dean asked, sort of anticipating his answer already.

“I came last year, with Balthazar. Don’t remember much, though.”

“Our little Castiel goes hard,” Gabe laughed, hopping out of the car and walking off to find their friends.

“You’re freaking out,” Cas said, poking Dean’s leg with the toe of his shoe.

“No, um, I’m just…” Cas raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying Dean’s story. “Um, a little bit. Yeah.”

“Let’s go find our tent and get you a drink. It’s already six and we are far too sober.”

It turned out their spot was towards the back, a big blue, six-person tent that Michael had brought along. It was surrounded by a handful of trees, the thin, lone-standing kind that were scattered around the campground. Dean, unsurprisingly, felt a pang of disappointment at the shared sleeping space, but considering the nine people that would be sleeping in the restricted area, there might still be close quarters. He hoped.

There was a lot going on inside the tent, so Dean took his and Cas’ stuff inside. He laid his sleeping bag out in the corner, not sure exactly where to leave Cas’ bag. When he stepped outside, his stomach dropped.

Balthazar had arrived, sometime in the two minutes he was inside the tent. He had an arm around Cas’ shoulders and was speaking close into his ear. As Dean watched Balthazar turned and started to lead Cas away from their tent. Cas’ feet were moving, but his arms lay loose at his sides and he was looking forwards instead of looking at Balthazar.

“Best to just let them go, Dean-o,” Meg said from his side, snaking an arm around his waist. “Cas’ll come back sometime. He might not be sober, but he’ll be back.”

Dean moved before he could think about it too much. He jogged a couple of steps forward, reaching out and grabbing Cas’ hand. He didn’t pull, didn’t force Cas to turn around and face him. He just laced their fingers together gently, sliding his thumb across the back of Cas’ hand.

The other boy stopped almost immediately, his eyes moving from Dean’s face, down to their hands, back up to meet Dean’s eyes. He smiled, his blue eyes electric.

“Hey, um, I think you owe me a drink,” Dean said, egged on by Cas’ reaction.

“Excuse me?” Balthazar said, his accent almost worse in person than Dean remembered it being over the phone.

“Balth, this is Dean,” Cas mumbled, never breaking eye contact. He stepped away from the other guy, his arm sliding off of Cas’ shoulder. Dean smiled back, feeling a blush appear on his cheeks.

Balthazar just scoffed and walked away, mumbling something like “nice to see you too, Cassie.”

Dean didn’t really listen. He didn’t really care.

They didn’t just find drinks, they found flip cup. Cas wanted to save the hard stuff for later, because he “couldn’t have Dean blacking out too early.”

“I don’t even know how to play,” Dean complained. Cas stationed him on the side of one of the plastic tables, at the end of a line of five other people. Cas stood on the opposite side of the table facing him. Dean didn’t recognize really anyone else at the table, just a bunch of nameless co-eds and someone that might’ve been Anna at the head of his line, judging by the red hair.

Cas placed two red cups on the table, one in front of himself and one in front of Dean. He filled them both with about an inch of cheap beer.

“It’s easy. When it’s your turn, chug your cup, then use your fingers to flip it over so it lands face down. Whatever team,” he gestured at his side of the table, then at Dean’s side, “finishes first, wins. Don’t feel bad if you lose, I’m good at this.”

Cas smirked at him, and Dean felt a wave of competitiveness wash over him.

Dean’s team won the first game, mostly because one of Cas’ teammates was already pretty drunk and took more than his share of tries to get his cup to land right. Dean took three tries himself, which he thought was pretty good for his first attempt. Cas raised his beer at Dean before placing the bottle against his lips and taking a long drink.

Dean’s brain did a quick shutdown and restart at the sight of Cas’ lips against the glass. Memory of that image did not do it justice.

Some amount of games later, Dean really had lost count, he was feeling a good buzz. The sun was starting its slow descent, though there was a good amount of light still. By the campfire someone had started to play music, something with a good beat and thumping bass.

He and Cas made their way over to the food, grabbing more drinks on their way. Cas swung his hips slightly to the beat of the music, and Dean found himself hanging a bit behind to watch.

“Dean Winchester are you staring at my ass,” Cas asked, sounding amused and not even bothering to look back at Dean.

“Uh…”

His brain was far too slow to come up with a good back-up story. Cas just laughed, still swaying until he reached the food.

“Mmmm, cheeseburgers,” Cas hummed happily, piling his plate with two big burgers.

“Who knew you could eat so much,” Dean laughed, flopping down at a table with Jo and Michael.

Cas took a huge bite of one of the burgers and grinned at Dean, cheeks puffy and pink.

“I like cheeseburgers,” he managed around the mouthful. Dean just shook his head, enjoying the press of Cas’ thigh against his own.

"I had no idea," Dean responded sarcastically. "The mouthful of food is really cute."

Cas raised an eyebrow, taking another big bite while keeping his eyes locked on Dean.

"Sarcasm is unnecessary, Dean. You can just tell me I'm hot."

Dean started blushing immediately, making the smirk on Cas' face grow and grow. Dean wished there were any words in his brain that he could piece together, but they all seemed to have run for the hills. Cas' eyes travelled lazily over Dean's cheeks and the flush that was almost surely visible on his neck, shaking his head for a second before dropping his gaze to the food in front of him.

Dean waited for the moment to pass before speaking, feeling the blood and heat drain out of his face and the tension melt out of the air between them. But maybe he had imagined that last part.

“Where is everybody?” he asked, mostly towards Jo or Michael.

“Scattered,” Michael slurred, face serious and eyes wide. Jo giggled and said something into his ear, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh at his drunken friend.

“Very helpful,” he murmured.

"Whyd'you care?" Jo said, her high-pitched voice several notches louder than it needed to be.

"Haven't seen anybody since we got here, that's all."

Jo furrowed her eyebrows comically, glaring at the boy beside him and pouting her lips. Cas, who was entirely focused on the food in his hands, didn't even notice.

"Wonder why that could be," she continued to stare, her pout cracking into a small smile while Michael boasted a goofy grin next to her.

Cas took a big bite of food before answering, not bothering to look up from his plate.

"Sorry Ms. Harvelle, he's my toy this evening."

Jo and Michael just laughed, each of them consuming the other's attention once again. Cas resumed his humming while he ate, a tune Dean had heard him hum several times before. He recognized it as familiar, but still couldn’t place it.

“What is that?” Dean asked. It was slow and rolling, and something about it felt warm and comforting.

“Hmm?” Cas finally raised his head and met Dean’s eyes, his lips automatically curving up into a smile. Dean wanted to take a picture of him right then, with that look on his face, the warmth in his eyes. The look Cas only got when he looked at Dean, the soft smile reserved for only his eyes. He wanted to save it, put it in his pocket, carry it around with him forever.

Dean gave him a dopey smile in return, the most he could manage in that moment.

“That song you’re humming, what is it?”

The pinkness in Cas’ cheeks darkened slightly, and if Dean didn’t know better he would’ve said that Cas was blushing. The other boy just shrugged, looking back down at his food.

“Just some song.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, not deterred for one second by Cas' non-answer. Cas let the silence hang heavy for a beat or two before glancing back up, clearly avoiding Dean's eyes.

"I don't fucking know, Winchester. I didn't even notice I was humming."

Dean was in no way buying his bullshit, but decided not to push it. Maybe it really was nothing, and there was something hesitant in Cas' voice that Dean didn't like.

They both finished their food quickly, the alcohol in their stomachs making them ravenous. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both seemed to agree that they wouldn’t be splitting up this evening.

“What d’you say we crack the hard stuff?” Cas suggested when it got too dark for party games. Everyone had started to huddle around the fire, chairs and blankets appearing all around in a big circle. Some wandered farther off, usually in pairs, presumably getting into some kind of trouble out in the inky darkness.

Cas retrieved a bottle of whiskey and a blanket from their tent, finding a place for them close to the fire. They laid the blanket out and sat down, knees bumping together. The bottle got passed back and forth, and to Dean’s surprise everything stayed very PG between them. Several times Cas looked at Dean like he wanted to do something, wanted to say something, wanted to ask something. He never did.

Dean, on the other hand, was feeling distinctly drunk, in a happy, warm, flirty sort of way. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or Cas’ lack of advances, but he was feeling incredibly distracted.

Every time his fingers brushed against Cas’ hand in the passing of the bottle, Dean wanted to throw the bottle away and pin him down on the blanket, fuck anyone around them who cared.

Every time Cas’ pink lips pressed against the glass, Dean wanted to grab a fistful of his dark hair and suck on his bottom lip, make Cas whine with need.

Every time Cas threw his head back in laughter, Dean wanted to kiss and bite the tendons of his neck until Cas was covered in marks so everyone would know, so Balthazar would know, that Cas was his.

At some point the girl next to him passed him a bag of marshmallows, big and fluffy and sticky. He grabbed one of them and searched around on the ground for a suitable stick to use, thankful for the distraction.

“What’re you up to?” Cas asked, voice only sounding slightly slurred. Dean wondered absently how he managed that.

“Mmmm, makin’ you s’marshmallows.”

Cas laughed. “Oh are you?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean hummed in response. “I make the best. Says Sammy.”

“Your little brother?”

Dean just nodded, too focused on burning the end of his roasting stick to respond. He pulled it out of the fire, letting the red tip cool before sticking a marshmallow on the end.

“You’ve never talked about him before. I knew he existed, but…”

His voice trailed off. Dean thought for a minute. Had he really not talked about Sam before? He tried to remember a time, and came up with nothing.

“Sammy’s important to me.”

Cas just nodded, giving Dean a small smile.

Dean spent a couple of minutes working on the marshmallow, roasting it to golden perfection, making sure the inside was melted as well. Nothing worse than a roasted marshmallow with a hard center. When he was satisfied he turned towards Cas and pulled the marshmallow off the stick with his fingers. It was sticky and warm, and Dean had the urge to pop it into his own mouth.

“Open,” he commanded, staring straight into Cas’ fuzzy blue eyes. Cas obeyed, holding back whatever snarky comment Dean had expected him to say.

Dean placed the marshmallow in his mouth slowly, holding on to their eye contact. Cas wrapped his lips around Dean’s fingers, using his teeth and tongue to scrape off the excess residue before releasing them.

Dean felt like he was panting. He had to be panting. His heart was racing, and nothing else in the world existed except for the heat between their two bodies. Cas swallowed slowly, his lips parting just slightly.

“Is this a test?” Cas murmured, his chest quickly rising and falling with his breathing. “Because if it is, let me just say its un-fucking-fair.”

“A test?” Dean asked, genuinely confused.

“You asked me to be your friend. So I’m being your friend. I’m trying so fucking hard to be your friend. And I don’t want to be. I want so much more from you. So fucking much more. But you asked for this. And I’m trying.”

For the first time since Dean had met him, Cas looked scared. And Dean knew exactly what kind of fear he was feeling. Fear that Dean would pull away; fear that he would lose this moment. Because as much as it sucked to sit here and hold himself back, this was worth it.

And Dean never wanted him to feel like that.

Dean kissed him, hard, saying with his lips all the things he couldn’t say with his voice. It was sloppy and wet and messy and nowhere near the best kiss Dean had ever given in his life, but it was everything he had.

Cas met him stroke for stroke, his kiss just as needy and desperate as Dean was feeling. He wanted to kiss Cas forever, never stopping, learning the curves and textures of his mouth, the movements of his lips. Cas whined into Dean’s mouth, and Dean gave him back some of his own. His fingers found their way into the hair at the base of Cas’ neck, flexing and pulling on the soft strands.

“Get a room!”

The voice came from somewhere across the circle, somebody Dean didn’t know. He broke the kiss but didn’t pull his face away, their noses still touching and Cas’ breath still on his face. Cas was breathing heavy, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Later,” he growled, pressing one last, long kiss against Dean’s lips.

Dean sighed and pulled away, lying down on his back with his head propped up on Cas’ thigh. The small contact was enough, barely, to keep him sitting still. He felt like all the boiling desire under his skin had been unleashed with that kiss, and it was burning like fire in his veins.

Cas threaded his fingers into Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp with short nails. Dean closed his eyes and groaned, the small touch making him squirm with need. He heard Cas chuckle quietly above him, but refused to look up into his smiling blue eyes.

Cas started to hum again, that same tune that Dean had recognized from earlier. The notes vibrated through his body, the song thrumming inside of Dean like a living thing. He continued to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp and pulling lightly on the short hairs every once in a while.

It didn’t take long for Dean to fall asleep, the soft murmurs of the people around him and the crackle of the fire still audible in his dream. He wasn’t sure what it was about exactly, but he was pretty sure that a dark-haired boy made an appearance.

He woke up some time later to someone tugging gently on his ear. He made an unhappy noise, reaching up and catching Cas' hand as it pulled away.

“Hey sleepy, wake up,” Cas whispered softly, laughter in his voice. “Let's go sleep.”

Dean dragged his body into a standing position, reluctantly stumbling towards their tent with Cas’ guidance. The walk felt like it was hours long, and Dean felt almost desperate to have Cas wrapped up in his arms. His body felt like it was made of lead, which was probably an effect of the alcohol still running through his system.

Cas led him into the tent and to his sleeping bag, over and around the heads and feet of the others who were already sleeping. Dean pulled off his jeans and his shoes, sliding in and scooting to the side. He tugged on Cas’ arm, silently asking him to join.

The sleeping bag was too small for both of them, and they were pressed together almost uncomfortably in a tangle of limbs. Neither of them cared. Dean kissed Cas slowly, tracing the outline of his lips with the tip of his tongue. Cas sighed into his mouth, kissing him back thoroughly and dragging a moan from Dean’s throat.

A tent full of people, full of their friends, and Dean couldn't be bothered to care.

Dean had his arms around Cas’ lower back, his fingers splayed out on his waist. Cas had one hand in Dean’s hair, his nails scratching at his scalp in a way that Dean was quickly getting addicted to. He pulled back just slightly, feeling sleep coming quickly and wanting to ask the question on the tip of his tongue before it disappeared.

“The song,” he mumbled, barely coherent.

Cas smiled. “You’re drunk.”

“Don’ care. You are too. Sing it.”

“You won’t remember it.”

“Cas.”

Cas gave him a half smile, blinking sleepily at him. He lay his head down on their pillow, their noses touching just slightly and their eyes locked together.

“Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn, take me in,” he sang softly, breath caressing Dean’s face. He spoke the words more than he actually sang them, the effect making Dean shiver.

“Are you aware the shape I’m in?”

His fingers moved in Dean’s hair, nails against his skin.

“My hands they shake my head it spins.”

A sad smile, his tongue running over his pink lips.

“Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn, take me in.”

Dean’s eyelids felt heavy; he struggled to keep his eyes focused on those blue depths.

“Dumbed down and numbed by time and age.”

Cas’ eyes pooled with some emotion that Dean couldn’t place.

“Your dreams to catch the world, the cage.”

His eyes slid shut, sleep’s claws dragging him under, slow and deep.

“The highway sets the traveler’s stage.”

Cas’ voice echoed in his ears. Dean grasped at the memories that were disappearing each second, tried to tie them down, tried to hold on to them.

“All exits look the same.”

Cas pressed a soft kiss to his lips, Dean’s body too tired to respond.

“Three words that became hard to say.”

The world slipped away. Dean had no idea what was real, and what had been a dream.

“I, and love, and you.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Dean was aware of when he woke up was that he was definitely in his sleeping bag and at least partially undressed. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gone from kissing Cas by the fire to passing out in the tent, but his memories even of the kiss were pretty hazy. The second thing Dean was aware of was hair in his face and a body tangled up with his own, limbs wrapped around each other. He cracked his eyelids open, the morning light not terribly bright from the inside of the tent. The others seemed to be up already, and Dean could hear footsteps and rumbling voices outside.

His eyes landed on Cas, face smooth and relaxed in sleep. His hair was mussed and crazy, his lips parted slightly. Dean kissed him automatically, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Somewhere in his brain alarm bells started ringing. Screaming that this was a bad idea, that he should stop before Cas wanted him to leave again, that soon enough Cas wouldn’t want him anymore.

But…he was tired. And warm. And here in this sleeping bag with Cas, it felt like home. So he told his brain to kindly shut the fuck up and kissed Cas again.

It took a couple of soft brushes of lips before Cas started to respond. At first he just barely moved his mouth, reacting to the touches more than kissing back. Dean sucked lightly on his bottom lip, making Cas moan quietly. He started kissing back in earnest then, both of them content with the lazy sleepiness of it all.

“Maybe we should get up,” Dean mumbled against Cas’ mouth, not really wanting to stop. Dean’s hand circled his back, from the nape of his neck to his lower spine.

“No,” Cas grumbled, pressing harder against Dean’s mouth, biting his bottom lip.

Dean inhaled sharply at the feeling of teeth, falling deeper and deeper into his touches. His arms wrapped tightly around Cas’ waist, their movements changing from sleepy to something more. Dean rutted against Cas, happy to feel that the other boy was just as hard as he was. Cas reacted quickly, rolling his hips and almost growling from somewhere low in his throat.

“Someone’s grumpy this mornin’,” Dean said, smiling against Cas’ lips.

“No.”

Cas slid a hand around to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Just not a morning person then?”

Cas groaned, and not in the good way.

“No.”

“So you don’t want to get up?”

Dean smiled at himself, at the muffled words blurred together by needy kisses, at Cas’ short morning temper. He liked him a little riled up.

Cas paused just slightly, his hand sliding up Dean’s chest slowly, his palm cupping his cheek and his thumb sliding across Dean’s bottom lip softly. The hard, needy kisses stopped, replaced by slow presses of lips that seem to strip everything else away. Dean stopped circling his hand, stopped moving his hips. All he could do was kiss Cas back, cling to this feeling that he hadn’t even known he was missing.

Cas used his thumb to pull Dean’s mouth open, breathing the word “no” into his mouth more than saying it out loud. He’d done that before, that first night they were together. It was possessive, a trait he knew Cas wasn’t short on.

Dean surrendered to Cas, his hands starting to roam the hard lines, sharp hips, and solid muscle of his body. Cas just hummed happily, the sound triggering a flash of memory from the night before, bits and pieces of sounds and sensations.

The warmth of the crackling fire behind them. Cas had an arm around his waist. His eyes felt sore and tired, like he’d been sleeping.

Dean tried to remember more, but there was nothing else.

When Cas pulled back to speak, Dean had to consciously suppress a rather loud whine that was making its way up his throat. But Cas didn’t go far; just enough so that his blue eyes could make contact with Dean’s green ones.

“Out there is real life. I’m not ready to go join it yet.”

Cas just looked at him, oddly serious and still looking rather rumpled and grumpy. His cheeks and lips were tinted extra pink, his tanned skin flushed and warm against Dean’s own. His eyes were really only half-open, and he kept shutting one like the effort of keeping it open was simply too much.

“Is this like your fantasyland then?”

Dean kissed him, relishing the feeling of his smile before pulling back.

“Mmm,” Cas hummed. “Don’t think so,” he closed his eyes again, a smile still playing at the corners of this mouth. “In my fantasyland you’re naked, and we have a much bigger bed, and several styles of riding crops and whips, and of course hand cuffs and a variety of vibrators, perhaps even a sex swing, with 360 degrees of camera angles with all of our friends around to watch and—“

Dean heard a twig snap outside the tent, followed by a muffled whisper.

“That kinky little motherfu—“

A squeak, and a sharp intake of breath.

“God damn it,” a second voice whispered, definitely male this time.

“Hey guys,” Cas said, a little louder this time. “Nice of you to stop by for a listen.”

Dean tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. That explained the sex swing and the cameras.

“How’d you even—“ the female voice started, sounding a lot like Lisa.

“Lisa I can smell that perfume from 100 miles away. Gabe I can hear you mouth breathing.”

“Asshole. We’re going to the lake soon so if you’re gonna fuck you should do it soon,” Gabe answered, laughter in his voice. Dean heard Lisa giggle quietly before both of their footsteps faded away.

“Don’t worry,” Cas mumbled. “I don’t own riding crops or whips.”

“What about a sex swing?”

Cas’ eyelids flitted open, his eyes suddenly bright and brimming with mischief. His lips curved into a smirk for a brief moment before he kissed Dean hard and short and rolled out of the sleeping bag.

“Come on. I need coffee.”

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

The coffee, as Cas so eloquently put it, tasted like mud. But it was caffeine, and for that Dean was grateful. He surveyed the rest of the food laying out, determining which things he was least likely to throw up.

Cas had already wandered off to the campfire with what looked like most of the other campers. Dean wasn’t sure what time it was, but it seemed far too early for how much alcohol had been consumed the night before.

But maybe that was just him.

The suffocating smell of cigarettes and cologne filled his nostrils as a long arm settled across his shoulders. He turned to see Balthazar standing there, an annoyingly arrogant smirk on his face.

“It’s Dan, is it? I’m rubbish at names.”

He grinned bigger, blatantly aware of what he was doing.

“Dean.”

He tried not to grit his teeth, but the tension in his shoulders was leaking throughout his entire body.

“Ah, right. Dean. Cassie’s newest shiny toy.”

“I’m not—“

“Sh, sh, sh,” he placed a finger to his lips, shaking his head dramatically. “That you think you’re anything more.”

He took a couple steps to the side, using his arm to spin Dean around so that they were both facing the campfire, watching the group interactions. Watching Cas interact. His hands were wrapped around his mug of coffee, the rim only centimeters away from his mouth. He had his knees tucked up to his chest, his bare feet scrunched up on the blanket he sat on. Every once in a while he laughed or spoke, the fire too far away to make out more than the rumble of conversations.

“He does like ‘em pretty. I’ll admit that you are a bit rugged for him, but pretty nonetheless.”

Dean shivered at his words, trying his best to keep his composure. No one else needed to suspect that this confrontation was happening.

“I’ve known Castiel for right around eight years. How long have you known him? Weeks? So let me tell you a little something about Cassie. He’s had some shit in his life. Shit that no one deserves, least of all Castiel. It screwed with him.

And I took care of him anyways. I taught him everything that piece of shit dad of his didn’t. I was his first kiss. His first blowjob. His first fuck. His first boyfriend. His first heartbreak. I gave him all of this. When he needed to break-up with me and go find a fast fuck in some nameless bar, I let him. When he needed to come back and apologize, I took him back.

Cassie runs away from home, and he always comes back. So if you think you are anything more than a toy to him, a distraction, a fast fuck in some nameless bar, then you are sadly mistaken. You are nothing to him, Dean Winchester. He’ll leave you, like he’s left every other pretty, green-eyed stray that he tried to bring home.”

Dean never moved his eyes from Cas during Balthazar’s entire speech. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought these things himself. He'd thought about them just that morning. Instead, he watched how Cas flexed his feet on the blanket, how his fingers overlapped in the handle of the mug. He noticed how his hair was amusingly flat on the right side from where he’d slept on Dean’s pillow, the spikes pointing like they’d been blown over by wind. Dean watched his slow, lazy blinks, tried to imagine him sleepily looking at Balthazar in the morning while they cuddled in soft, dewy light. Better yet, tried to imagine Cas nuzzled up against Balthazar’s chest, scratching his face on Balthazar’s deep V-neck.

And, well, Dean honestly couldn’t help but laugh. That Castiel, the one that cuddled and was grumpy in the morning didn’t belong in Balthazar’s world. Not now, not ever. And as much as his words stung, as much as they hit right smack in the middle of all of Dean's insecurities, they didn't feel true.

“Did you, uh, love him?” Dean mused, still choosing not to turn his head.

“Did I what?” the shock was apparent in his voice.

“My first blowjob was a girl named Amanda. First fuck was a girl named Cassie. She was my first girlfriend, first hearbreak too. Sort of ironic, huh?”

Balthazar lifted his arm off of Dean’s shoulders, and Dean could see out of the corner of his eye that Balthazar was now facing him completely, probably with some confusion on his face. Dean wasn't sure how he was coming up with these words, how he was able to believe in them. He just sort of...spoke. And maybe he was convincing Balthazar, and maybe he was convincing himself. Did it really matter?

“Should that make Cas love me any less? Should that make me love him any less? Because he didn’t give me those things?”

That made Balthazar laugh outright, loud and thoroughly amused.

“Love? You think he loves you? And you him?”

“No,” Dean said calmly. “No I, um, I don’t love him. And he doesn’t love me. How could I? Like you said, I’ve only known him a few weeks. But…”

Cas looked at him then. He didn’t turn his body, just swiveled his neck until his eyes settled on Dean standing across the road next to Balthazar. His head tilted to the side and he raised one eyebrow, and Dean just couldn’t help but smile. It was so Cas, so distinctly him. A smile spread across Cas’ face in return, the one he saved just for Dean.

"...I feel like maybe I could. I don't know. Maybe you're right and I'm nothing to him. And maybe you're totally wrong. All I got is that you're never gonna love him, you're bad for him, and he deserves better."

"Listen to me you insolent little ape," Balthazar snarled, fingers digging into Dean's arm and forcing him to turn. "You know fuck all about me and Castiel, and if you think—"

"What color is his comforter?" Dean asked, trying to keep his face and his voice calm. After Balthazar's little outburst, Cas absolutely had to know that something was up. It wouldn't be long before Cas was over there, and no way in hell was he letting either of them know that Balthazar's words had gotten under his skin in the slightest.

"Why in the fuck should I care?"

Dean just nodded and turned his head to look back towards the fire, hoping that his face was mostly neutral looking even if his cheeks were hot with blood. Cas stood up then, walking towards them slowly with his mug still clutched between his hands.

"It's dark grey. So, uh, I guess you've never been in his room. Eight years, man," Dean whistled low. "Must've gotten creative with location."

Dean took one glance at Balthazar to see a mixture of shock and anger scribbled on his face, and a weak attempt to cover it up with smug arrogance.

"Cassie doesn't do beds," Balthazar snapped. "Which you would know if—"

"No. Cas doesn't do beds with you."

It felt cheap to reduce whatever it was they had down to sex, but he wanted Balthazar to understand. Wanted that accented, V-neck wearing, blonde douche to keep his hands and teeth off of Cas. And sex, Dean correctly guessed, was something Balthazar could understand.

Dean observed the open mouthed, dumbfounded look on Balthazar's face before taking several long strides forward to meet Cas as he got closer. As soon as he was within reach, Dean slid his fingers into the hair at the base of Cas’ neck and used the grip to haul Cas up against his chest, to kiss him with all the words that he wanted to but couldn’t say.

Cas kissed him back immediately, one hand leaving his mug to snake around Dean’s waist.

“Well hello, Dean,” Cas murmured after Dean was finally able to break away. He could almost feel Balthazar’s eyes boring into his back.

“Your hair looks like shit,” Dean mumbled, grinning.

“No thanks to you, asshole,” Cas snaped, but there was a smile ghosting across his lips. “Fire. It’s cold as fuck.”

Dean kissed him again, sliding his tongue against Cas’, asking for more. He pulled back after just a few seconds, his breathing already heavy.

“The tent is warm.”

“And I’m about five seconds from dragging you back there if you don’t quit it.”

There was a wildness in Cas’ eyes that Dean couldn’t resist, and before he could think too much about it he was kissing Cas again and then running a few feet away, putting distance between them. Cas just stood there, looking downright hungry.

“I’ll race you there,” Dean challenged, wiggling his eyebrows at the other boy.

“Oi,” Balthazar started, obviously trying to interrupt the scene unfolding in front of him. “Breakfast? Lake? Ring a bell?”

“Later,” Cas mumbled as a sort of vague answer. He set his mug down on the nearest surface, his steps slow and calculated. Balthazar didn’t exactly look satisfied. “I’m not sure where this side of you is coming from, Winchester, but I like it. You’re on.”

Dean wasn’t sure where this was coming from either. Endorphins, probably. Some insane desire to prove what he had with Cas. He didn’t really care. He was having fun, and he could analyze later when Jo inevitably forced him to retell the story. Instead he took off running, hopefully in the direction of the tent, his conversation with Balthazar shoved into the back of his mind to deal with another time.

He discovered very quickly that Cas was much faster than him. He caught up quickly, grabbing Dean around the waist and throwing him up against a nearby tree. Something was digging into the middle of his back and he was sweating, but Cas’ lips were hot against his own and nothing else mattered.

Suddenly they were gone, and Cas was running off ahead of him. Dean had to physically shake his head to clear the Cas-induced haze before he could give chase. In any case Cas must have been going easy on him, because he was actually able to catch up. There were no trees around, just tall yellow grass that came up to right around Dean’s waist. Imitating Cas, he wrapped an arm around his waist and threw his weight backwards, hoping for the best.

Unfortunately Dean was no wrestler, and he ended up flat on his back with Cas straddling his waist. The other boy made no movements to get up, both of them breathing heavily and drunk on endorphins.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the tent,” Cas mumbled, and then they were kissing and Dean didn’t even know who started it.

It was hard and hot and desperate and it took no time at all for them to start pulling each other’s clothes off until they were both wearing nothing at all. Cas’ lips were everywhere, on his neck, his chest, teeth scraping across his skin. Grass and dirt and other plants were scratching Dean all over, making him itch. He suddenly was hyperaware of where they were.

“Are we about to fuck in a field of grass,” Dean asked, breathing still heavy. Cas kissed him hard, his tongue slipping into Dean’s mouth.

“Do you want to fuck in a field of grass,” Cas replied, never breaking the kiss.

“I want you to fuck me in a field of grass.”

Cas’ body tensed above him, his hard cock rubbing against Dean’s.

“Fuck, Dean.”

Dean reached down between them, fisting both of their cocks in one hand. Cas shuddered above him while he let out a sighing moan. Cas fumbled around in his discarded pants for a minute before returning with a single-use pack of lube and a condom.

“Of course you have pocket lube,” Dean said, his voice breathy.

“With you around, I have to be prepared. Be glad I am.”

Dean was glad. So glad. It took minutes for Cas to reduce him to a whimpering puddle with his fingers, begging to feel Cas inside of him.

“You ready?” Cas asked.

“Fuck yes, God please yes,” Dean said through a moan, making Cas chuckle darkly.

The first press of Cas’ cock through the ring of muscle ached. He wanted to dig his fingers into Cas’ butt and pull him closer; he wanted Cas to bury himself. But Cas wanted to play with him.

For every half-inch Cas pressed in deeper, he pulled out half as much. Dean tried so hard to get more, but Cas’ hand on his hip kept him firmly lying down on the ground.

“Cas please,” he whined. His cock was throbbing against his stomach, the heat pooling inside of him resting right on the edge of release. “Holy fuck Cas.”

The whole time Cas was kissing him, his mouth, his neck, his chest, biting and sucking marks into the skin of his neck.

“Ya know,” Dean started, interrupted by a load moan as Cas slid in deeper. “You don’t have to stake your claim like that. I’m already,” another moan as Cas pulled back out. “I’m already yours.”

Cas’ mouth was on his in a second, the rest of his body stopping dead.

“What did you say,” he growled, voice heavy with lust.

“I’m yours.”

Before Dean could even finish speaking Cas slammed into him, bottoming out in one long thrust. Dean almost screamed, white dots flashing across his vision. Cas pressed searing kisses on his mouth over and over, his thrusts picking up speed. Little groans and huffs of breath came from Cas, blurred together with Dean’s own moans.

Dean’s body practically exploded when he came, ecstasy racing through his veins. Cas thrusted two or three more times before giving in to his own release.

They laid there for a while, breathing heavy and kissing in a wet, lazy sort of way.

“Did you mean it?” Cas finally asked. Dean just nodded. There was no other option. Not for him.

“Did you ever hook-up with other people with green eyes,” Dean countered, mostly out of morbid curiosity.

“Sure. Maybe. Probably. I’m not going to say no. I probably have. I haven’t really noticed, though. Why?”

“Wondering if you have a type.”

Cas laughed. “Baby you have the prettiest green eyes of anyone I’ve ever slept with.”

Dean scrunched up his nose at the sarcastic comment, refusing to smile.

“Asshole.”

Cas just smirked at him.

“So they tell me.”

Chapter Text

“You want to tell me what Balth was saying to you?”

Dean tried his best to avoid eye contact with Cas while he pulled up his shorts and threw on his t-shirt. It was easier to lie if his hands were busy.

“Um, nothin’ really. Just the usual break his heart and I’ll break your legs talk. Didn’t take him as the protective type.”

Cas snorted, laughing out loud. Dean let his eyes flit over to Cas who was sprawled out in the grass still, dark sweats resting lightly on his hips, legs stretched out in front of him and his chest bare.

“He’s not,” Cas said once he’d finished having a good ole laugh over Dean’s made-up story. He reached up and grabbed Dean’s hand, tugging down so that Dean was straddling his outstretched thighs. Dean let him, only half-heartedly resisting. “I’m not buying your bullshit, Winchester.”

He settled his hands on Dean’s butt, a smug, satisfied look on his face. Dean felt a blush creep up into his cheeks, nothing but the sound of grass blowing in the wind all around them. He bowed his head just slightly, choosing to focus his eyes on the hollow at the base of Cas’ neck.

“You know,” Cas murmured, tracing the redness up Dean’s neck slowly with his fingers. “As much as I like the new, flirty, let’s-play-and-then-let’s-fuck version of Dean, I like this one just as much. The one that says ‘um’ every other word and blushes anytime I look at him.”

“I don’t blush that much.”

Cas put a finger under his chin and forced it up, forced him to make eye contact with the gorgeous boy whose lap he was sitting on. The blush in his neck and cheeks surged, heating up and spreading with a vengeance.

Cas didn’t even do anything, just smirked at Dean as if you say: “see? I told you so.”

Dean kissed that annoying little smirk right off his face.

It only lasted for a second. It had taken several minutes of prying Cas’ hands off of his body as well as a fair amount of Dean’s strength to get up and dressed the first time, and he wasn’t sure he could do it again. Or would want to do it again.

“I can handle the blonde bimbo.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason.”

They got up a few minutes later, both of them reluctant to leave the spot despite the fact that all it really was was a big flattened patch of itchy grass. But it was warming up rapidly, and the rest of the group was most likely already at the lake or heading there soon.

Dean spun around, trying to figure out which direction they had come from. It turned out that he had failed spectacularly in running towards their tent, but he certainly didn’t mind. It did take them a few minutes, but they found their way back just in time to catch the last of the group leaving.

“Where in the hell have you been?!” Jo squealed, skipping over and wrapping her arms around his waist while he continued walking.

“Uh…” Dean started, not sure what to say. He saw Lisa and Benny pop their heads out of the crowd ahead of him, turning to walk towards him. Lisa had a similar “what the fuck?” kind of look on her face, while Benny mostly just looked hungover.

“Have fun,” Cas whispered, lips grazing his ear. He smirked and turned away, jogging a couple of steps forward to catch up to Gabe who was walking up ahead of them. He slung an arm around Gabe’s shoulders and the two of them disappeared rapidly into the crowd of co-eds dressed in various forms of pajamas and swim attire.

Dean tried very hard not to admire the way his sweats hung low on his slim hips, or the stretch of his t-shirt across his shoulder blades.

Luckily for Dean—or not so luckily, depending on who you asked—Lisa had no idea what personal space meant. She hurried over to him and climbed onto his back, wrapping her legs around him and using her hands to mess up his hair as best she could. Jo stepped back a few inches automatically, still staying close to his side and laughing at his torture.

“Ahhhh!” He yelled, trying to pull her legs free. She didn’t budge.

“Keep walking, pretty boy,” she hummed into his ear, settling her arms over his shoulders.

“Why does everyone keep calling me that!” Dean snapped. He looked at Benny for support, but the other boy wasn’t even looking at him. “Yo, Benny, some assistance? I’m being assaulted.”

Benny shut his eyes and covered his ears, wincing away from Dean’s voice.

“Brother, you gotta stop yellin’.”

Dean looked at Jo questioningly, but she just laughed and shrugged at his unspoken question.

“Should I assume this was your doing?”

Lisa giggled and he felt her shrug on his back.

“I never made him drink anything. I might have just suggested a teensy little connection between his manliness and his ability to drink. Just a teensy little one.”

“Bullshit!” Benny snapped. “She repeated versions of Benny drinks like a 60 pound ten year old over and over again all night. Felt like I had to prove myself.”

“You satisfied now?” Dean laughed, moving slower than the big group in front of them but still moving with the little brunette monkey on his back.

Benny just groaned in response, the rest of them laughing mercilessly at his pain.

“Dean shouldn’t you be dyin’ like me? Why are you so okay?”

That was a good question. He’d felt pretty sick at breakfast, but after he…

“Morning sex will do that. It’s great for hangovers,” Lisa patted his chest, giggling in his ear again.

“Dean Winchester!” Jo smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “I am your best friend and you are not allowed to keep shit like this from me! You start talking right now or I swear to God my muddy shoes are going all over your beloved leather seats.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at Jo’s threat. She would go for the car.

“Relax, Joanna Beth. Lisa just thinks she heard something in the tent this morning that she didn’t hear. So shut it, Skipper.”

“You guys hear that spunk? I like it,” she patted his cheek with the palm of her hand, almost a slap. “And it wasn’t in the tent. Unless,” she pulled at his hair again, moving her hand out in front of his face while holding something between her fingers.

He let his eyes focus on the small object: a couple of blades of itchy grass. Shit.

“Unless there’s grass in your tent?”

“So you did sleep with him,” Jo stated, very matter of fact, very Jo. She crossed her arms and stopped in front of him, her brow furrowed and her mouth in a hard line.

Dean glanced at Benny standing next to him, looking very much like he wanted to take a nap on the ground. Lisa on his back, scratching his scalp with her nails and for once not speaking. The big group stopped up ahead of them, everyone having arrived at the lakeside and going about their various activities.

All of his confidence from that morning melted away. What were they? Did Cas think they were still just friends? He didn’t need questions right now. He didn’t need to analyze right now. He’d tell Jo the whole story just…not right now.

“Jo, can we just…later?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, letting her eyes flit up to Lisa at his shoulder. The other girl sighed dramatically, and Dean felt her weight slide off his back.

“Come on, drunkie. Let’s go for a little swim. You’ll feel better.”

Lisa led Benny away groaning, and then Dean was very unfortunately alone with Jo.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, Winchester?”

“Not particularly.”

She smacked him. Maybe he deserved that.

“Tough. You should’ve thought about that before you two shared a sleeping bag with seven other people in the tent with you. Don’t think your snuggling went unnoticed by anyone. Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

“I could, but that would be a lie. What’s got you all riled up?”

Jo chewed at her fingernails, her eyes dropping to his shoes.

“You didn’t see yourself that first week, okay? He hurt you and I just…I won’t let him hurt you like that again.”

Dean actually laughed, which Jo seemed to be very displeased with. She smacked him again, and he definitely deserved it that time.

“Ow! I’m sorry,” he laughed again, earning him a long, harsh glare. “I’m sorry. It’s just, um, sort of ironic.”

“And how’s that?” she snapped, sounding unimpressed with his explanation.

“Break my heart and you’ll break his legs?”

She pondered it for a second, weighing its value.

“Something like that,” she agreed. She lightened up then, offering Dean a small smile.

He grinned back at her, dropping an arm over her shoulders and leading her towards the water.

“You worry too much, Joanna Beth. I’ll be fine.”

In all reality, it wasn’t that nice outside. It was warm enough, sure, but he didn’t know how girls and boys alike were running in and out of the lake in bikinis and swim trunks. Or, ya know, whatever undergarments they happened to have on. The girls were pretty creative with their outfits.

Looking around him, Dean had the distinct feeling that he had severely underestimated how many people were at this campout. It had seemed like a lot last night but with everybody spread out in and along the edge of the lake, it seemed like way, way more.

Anna, Meg, Michael, Lisa, and Benny were camped out on the “beach” (which was more like grass, some rocks, and a little bit of gritty sand), towels and blankets spread out to form a little nest. There was a cooler too, filled with a little bit of food and a lot of beers. Gabe was there, but Cas was no longer with him.

“Did you have to bring just beer?” Lisa was whining when he and Jo arrived. “It’s going to make me bloat.”

“Is that why you look all puffy?” Gabe prodded, his face completely serious. Lisa just glared back at him.

“You aren’t funny you know.”

Dean tuned out the rest of the conversation as he looked around, searching for messy, dark hair in the immense crowd while he pulled his loose t-shirt off over his head. He saw nothing. Briefly, he thought about walking around and looking for him, but in all likelihood he wouldn’t find him. Instead he plopped down on the blanket, stretching his legs, closing his eyes, and letting his body warm up in the sunlight.

It felt like minutes, but he knew it had to be longer. The world blurred around him, but he never really fell asleep. He listened to his group of friends chatter next to him, talking about nothing in particular. Memories from the night before, promises for the night to come. Dean smiled softly, humming deep in his throat. He’d heard the song somewhere, but he couldn’t quite remember where or what the song was. He just sort of knew the tune, could hear what should come next. Like someone else was humming it for him, and all he had to do was imitate.

He was lying there, happy, warm, and sleepy, when he very suddenly got very, very wet. A body flopped down on top of his, lips crushing his own within a fraction of a second. Dean didn’t need to open his eyes to know that this wet creature lying on top of him was Cas. He knew the taste and the feel of Cas’ lips and tongue, the scrape of his teeth. Cas slid one hand underneath the small of his back, the other to the back of his neck where he used his nails against Dean’s sensitive skin.

After a few seconds their friends started laughing and cheering, and Cas pulled away slowly. Dean opened his eyes to see Cas lying along the entire length of his body, wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs that were surely as dripping wet as the rest of him. Water ran down his chest and shoulders in rivulets, drops falling out of his hair like rain. He was grinning, a bigger smile than Dean had seen on him maybe ever.

“Nobody told me you were lounging out in the sun, shirtless. I would have come sooner.”

Cas kissed him again, hard and demanding. Dean had to try very hard not to moan in front of everyone. They had at least all started talking again, ignoring his and Cas’ little moment.

When he opened his eyes, Cas’ eyes were bright and happy and bluer than Dean had ever seen them. His skin was flushed, his chest was heaving slightly.

“Cas, we should—”

“Stop?”

“I was gonna say go find someplace less out in the open. But if you wanna stop that’s—”

The rest of his words were swallowed up in a kiss, Cas’ smile against his lips.

“You are a big huge tease, you know that?”

“Um, Cas? Ya know you are very literally lying on top of me looking all hot and wet and wearing basically nothing. Who’s the tease again?”

“Touché. Now are you coming swimming with me or not?”

It turned out that Dean was mostly right about the coldness of the water. It flew right past refreshing and straight into almost uncomfortable in temperature, and Dean was forced to just suck it up until his body adjusted.

While Cas definitely had him on land, Dean was delighted to find out that he absolutely had the advantage in the water. Cas was a good swimmer, sure, but Dean was better.

And maybe he was showing off a little bit.

Dean swam easy circles around Cas, popping up every once in a while for air. This time he popped up and instead caught a face full of water.

“What the…?” he grumbled, rubbing water out of his eyes. He looked across at Cas, who was hovering with only his nose and eyes out of the water; yet Dean could still see the smile in his eyes. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Thirteen,” he smirked, sinking back below the water.

“Just ‘cause you can’t keep up…”

“Oh I can keep up. Let’s see what you got, Winchester.”

Dean for the life of him couldn’t remember the last time he had played while swimming like this. They only gave-up because quite honestly, it was a miracle neither of them had sunk already. They hauled their exhausted bodies up on to the nearest beach, which turned out to be a few meters away from the nearest of their group.

They lay next to each other for a minute or two, letting the sun dry their soaked bodies while their breathing calmed down from all the activity. Cas let out a dramatic sigh, his eyes closed and his face pointed up towards the sun.

“Um, can I help you with something?”

“Sure. You can explain to me why I can’t keep my fucking hands off of you.”

Oh. Dean thought. Unexpected.

“Why do you have to?”

“Because I should,” he sighed again. “Because we should maybe have, like, a real conversation about this first. Because I kind of like you.”

“Kind of? I, uh, I do have feelings you know.”

“You’re just alright,” Cas mumbled, quieter this time. He finally rolled his head to the side to look at Dean and opened his eyelids slowly. “And I am using all of my available restraint right now with you looking all hot and wet and blushing any second now.”

Of course he was right.

“Taste of your own medicine. At least I’m not laying on top of you.”

Cas just sighed again. Dean, for the first time, felt like he knew exactly what Cas was thinking.

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

When Dean made it back to their beachfront nest, Benny was the only one there.

“Still feeling like death, I see.”

Benny was curled up basically in the fetal position, hugging a box of saltine crackers with his eyes closed like he was sleeping.

“Shut up. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my—”

“Save it for Lisa.”

Dean just laughed. Benny knew him too well.

“He, uh, wandered off someplace.”

“You two better not disappear again tonight. I blame you for Lisa almost killing me.”

Dean held up three fingers in a fake salute.

“I solemnly swear I will not disappear.”

“And are you up to no good?”

Dean saw a small smile pull on Benny’s lips, though he kept his eyes closed and the rest of him stayed still.

“Absolutely.”

It was starting to get dark again and they had all returned to the campsite when Cas reappeared. Dean was playing some version of Go Fish! with their group—minus Meg and Anna, who seemed to have found entertainment of the college male variety—when he felt someone sit down next to him.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Lisa commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh sorry Lis, I’m not here for you. Does that make this awkward?”

Dean had to stifle his laugh with his hand, or risk the glare of death from Lisa.

“Ha ha ha. Motherfucker.”

“I, for one, don’t appreciate your blatant favoritism,” Gabe added, not looking up from his cards. “Is it because he’s prettier than me?”

“I am not pretty!” Dean snapped, which the rest of the table seemed to find highly amusing.

That night was much calmer than the first. They didn’t sneak off into the woods, they didn’t down a bottle of whiskey, and there were no drunken confessions or make-outs by the fire. They lounged around the camp, told ghost stories, listened to music, made s’mores.

Cas made his own.

Everyone was mellower, and there were more joints being passed around than bottles.

Dean was already almost asleep by the fire, his body stretched out on a blanket beside Cas. He felt a hand in his hair, pulling gently on the strands. Dean hummed happily.

“Hey sleepy, I’m going to bed.”

Dean cracked open his eyes. And he couldn’t help but think that Cas looked beautiful right then. The fire only caught half of his face, light flickering across his features while the other half stayed dark. His tan skin looked warm, his dark brown hair taking on a reddish hue. His eyelids looked droopy and tired, like he might fall asleep at any moment.

“Alone?”

“Not if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

They climbed into Dean’s sleeping bag together, both of them obviously fighting to stay awake.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Don’t sleep with anybody else.”

“Mmm. I won’t if you won’t.”

“Is this you asking me to go steady, Mr. Winchester?”

“You started it.”

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes, and Dean assumed that Cas had fallen asleep until he spoke again.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Do you remember last night?”

“Up until I fell asleep at the fire. Then nothin’. Why?”

“Thought so.”

Something in his voice sounded sad, and Dean couldn’t figure out why. Cas cupped Dean’s jaw with the palm of his hand, kissing him softly and sweetly.

“Sleep,” Cas whispered against Dean’s mouth.

And sleep he did.

Chapter Text

The ride home was quiet. Everyone was tired, sort of hung over, sort of sad that the weekend had to end.

Sundays always came too soon.

Dean wasn’t quite sure how long they had been driving. Long enough for Anna and Gabe to pass out in the back, and for Cas to doze in the front. Meg seemed to still be awake, but she was just quietly staring out the window.

Quite honestly the whole morning had been weird. Packing up their things, Dean had the feeling that they were packing up this entire chapter of their lives. Like they would never really come back here, no matter how many times they might come back to this campground. This was it, and real life was waiting for them. Not the kind of real life like what Cas had tried to avoid by hiding inside the tent; actual, real real life.

The kind that told you that homework was important, and studying. And that drinking was illegal for 18 year olds. And that bodies of water weren’t for playing in. And that you had to sleep alone in your own bed at night.

Real life wasn’t any fun at all, really.

Cas never stirred during the entire drive. Not when he dropped off the girls, or Gabe, or when he pulled into Cas’ driveway. The sedan, he noticed, was still parked there.

Part of him wanted to just carry Cas inside, lay him out on his bed, maybe curl up next to him. Would Cas even like that? As it was, poking him awake seemed like the safer plan.

“Um, Cas?”

No significant movement, but Dean thought he sensed a slight shift in Cas’ breathing pattern. Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ hair gently, tugging lightly on the dark spikes.

“Castiel,” he murmured, dragging the letters out like he was tasting each one as it left his mouth.

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed, slowly waking up. “Say it again.”

“Only if you wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered open, and he rolled his head to the side so he was looking at Dean.

“Everybody else gone?”

“Uh, yeah. Wh—”

“Good.”

Then Cas was kissing him, lazy and slow just how Cas liked. Dean slid his fingers into Cas’ hair, the other boy’s hands splayed across his chest. Slowly Cas drew closer and closer, until Dean was pressed up against the driver’s seat with Cas straddling his lap.

His mouth was everywhere, his hands were everywhere, his hips were rolling, grinding against Dean’s, and dammit everything in Dean’s mind flew out the window.

“Cas,” he mumbled into his mouth. It was meant to be a complaint, a weak effort to say “we can’t do this here.” Realistically, it deserved to be called a moan.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

He paused, his lips hovering just centimeters away from Dean’s. He tried to reach up and capture his lips again, but Cas just leaned away from him and smirked.

Of course, Dean was forced to take more extensive measures. He wrapped a hand around the nape of Cas’ neck, kissed him hard.

“Castiel,” he groaned, just for good measure. Cas growled low in his throat in response.

And thank God that Cas leaned back into the car horn right then so that Dean could regain some semblance of organized thought while Cas’ body was pressed up against his own. The sound made them both jump and pause for a second, smiles breaking out on both of their faces. Then they were kissing again, laughing and smiling against each other’s lips.

And of course, because nothing gold can stay, there was a tapping on the window.

Dean, for his part, almost threw Cas off of his lap and jumped out the window. He only barely stopped himself. Cas, on the other hand, sort of lazily rolled his head to the side; as if the brunette staring into the window with an obviously displeased look on her face was just an annoyance to him. She tapped her long nail on the window a couple more times before pointing into the house and then strolling away.

“We’ve been summoned,” Cas sighed.

“Um, maybe I should just go…” Dean started, hoping to avoid this confrontation.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Dean almost audibly heard himself gulp.

“You ready to meet Mommy Dearest?”

They climbed out of the car and made their way inside, where Cas dropped his almost empty duffle right inside the door. Cas just sort of strolled into the kitchen, his exterior growing frostier with each step. Dean didn’t like the feel of it, like waves of icy indifference flowed off of him.

“Castiel,” the woman’s voice said, sounding almost warm enough to be affectionate. “So glad you’re home.”

Her light brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she had on a tight grey pencil skirt with a white shirt and black heels. She probably was beautiful, at some point. In that moment she looked tired, and icier even than Cas.

“Mother,” Cas replied, his toned clipped.

Her eyes ran from his mussed hair down to his dirty sneakers, and it was obvious that she was trying not to purse her lips in dissatisfaction. Cas, at the same time, seemed to be holding back some kind of sarcastic smirk. Her eyes then hit Dean and he felt her take note of every inch. He wished he were wearing nicer clothes.

“Who might this be?”

“Dean. Um, hi. Nice to, uh, meet you, Mrs. Novak.”

“Naomi,” she smiled so sickly sweet that Dean could almost physically feel Cas’ annoyance. “I’m hardly a Novak.”

Dean, out of the corner of his eye, saw Cas flinch almost imperceptibly.

“So, Dean. Do you go to school with my Castiel?”

“Yeah, um, yes. I do.”

Her eyes flitted over to Cas, and Dean was glad for the brief respite from her intense gaze. Then her eyes were back on him, boring into his skull.

“I suppose I should thank you then for his recent spike in attendance. The calls from the front office were becoming tiresome. You are the reason, I presume?”

Her nonchalance rattled him. Did she really care so little? His mom would throw a fit if he skipped school whenever he felt like it.

“Can we skip the twenty questions, please?” Cas butted in, trying very hard to look bored with the entire situation.

“Castiel, don’t be rude,” she snapped at him.

“Naomi, don’t act like you give a shit.”

Her face turned stormy for a moment, and it looked like she might snap before she regained control of herself. She gave Dean a brief, tight-lipped smile before turning her back and walking away down the hallway.

“I will be leaving early in the morning, we will have dinner together this evening. Dean, it was lovely to meet you.”

She didn’t even turn around as she said it, just kept walking away from them. Cas had a dark look on his face, bitterness with a dash of irritation and a pinch of defiance. Dean wanted to say something, but none of his words sounded quite right. He kept his mouth shut, instead.

She rounded the corner and disappeared, her comment clearly dismissive; and there was certainly no need to tell Dean twice.

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

He probably shouldn’t have expected to see Cas on Monday at school, but that didn’t stop him from looking.

“Did you talk to him yesterday? After you left his place?”

The concern on Jo’s face did nothing for his ego. He knew she meant well but pity never sat right with him.

“It’s not like we text all the time, or talk on the phone.”

She just sort of hummed, and Dean knew she wasn’t sure what to say. He stretched his neck and did his best to look around the lunchroom, just in case. Just because it was unusual for him to not see Cas the first half of the day didn’t mean it was impossible. Maybe he just got to school late. Or he had to talk with a teacher. Or he forgot to wait in the hallway between their two classrooms after second period.

“I can hear the gears in your brain ticking. You could always just, oh I don’t know, talk to him?”

He thought for a second before pulling out his phone. Jo was right. No harm in trying.

Dean: someones a dirty skipper

He pressed send before he could edit. First drafts were always the best drafts. Or something. Right?

It only took a moment or two for his phone to vibrate, a message popping up on the screen.

Cas: dirty what? are you sexting me at school?

Dean grinned, much to Jo’s pleasure.

"Told ya so. Now tell him to get his ass to school.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Dean: I wouldnt have to sext you if you were here

He wished for a moment that he could see Cas’ reaction, see that little smirk sneak across his face.

Cas: skool iz 4 loosers

Dean: its a shame youre so illiterate

Cas: and whys that?

Dean: free period in an hour. gonna have to find somebody else to sit and study with

There was no response right away. The bell rang about a minute later, and Dean was hustled off to chemistry by Michael and Victor.

“Heard teach was gonna burn shit today,” Michael said excitedly. “Like purple and red and green flames and shit too. Badass, huh Winchester?”

Dean tried not to laugh, even while Victor seemed to be wholeheartedly agreeing with his friend.

“Yeah, uh, pretty badass.”

He felt his phone vibrate as he walked into the classroom, and his chest very involuntarily stiffened.

Cas: dont you dare.

Dean smiled again. Mission probably accomplished. Now he just had to make it through chemistry. Which ended up being, admittedly, much harder than he had anticipated. His mind wandered the entire time, his notes were disorganized, and more than once he caught himself in the middle of a daydream.

None of which included the scenario that actually happened.

He snuck off into the library, looking for his favorite little table in the back corner. The library at their school wasn’t very big, mostly made up of old, sagging, sad looking shelves filled with books that hadn’t been opened in a couple of decades. Still, something about it was calming for Dean. Quiet, mostly empty, just the whisper of pages and the smell of old paper.

And it helped that when he found his little table, Cas was already sitting there. His dirty white shoes propped up on the worn wooden table, his chair leaned back on two legs. He had a large book on his lap, and Dean couldn’t help watching for a couple of moments. His blue eyes ran across the page, his lips pressing together and his nose wrinkling up at certain parts.

“Did you even bother brushing your hair today?” Dean whispered, his voice carrying across the deep silence. He sat down in the other chair, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“You could always just start with hello,” Cas mumbled, not looking up from his book.

“What’re you reading?”

“Some book about pirates. The Pirate Queen, to be specific. Let me tell you, Blackbeard should’ve taken notes from this lady.”

“What class is that for?”

“It’s not,” Cas finally looked up, shutting his book with a snap and dropping it on the table. “I just thought it was interesting.”

“Uh huh,” Dean grinned, earning himself a big fat eye roll from Cas.

“Shut up.”

Dean wanted to ask why he had missed school that morning, or about his mom. He still felt a little chilled by her icy exterior, the way she had eyed him like he was something dirty.

But then, Cas must’ve felt the same way. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about her either.

They sat in silence for the rest of the hour, both of them quietly working on something. Cas didn’t intrude on his silence, on the privacy of his spot in this library. He just sort of…fit.

When the bell rang, too soon for Dean’s liking, its high-pitched screech sliced across the peaceful quiet. They stood up wordlessly, packing up their things slowly, reluctantly.

“So, tonight,” Cas said as they walked down the hallway.

“Um, yeah? What about it?”

“I was thinking…” he paused, the hesitation so uncharacteristic for him. “I just don’t feel like being at home.”

Dean tried very hard not to look too excited, but he couldn’t help the blush in his cheeks.

“I think my mom and dad will be out so, uh, I can’t promise anything nicer than mac ‘n cheese for dinner. That’s usually what Sammy and I make.”

Cas stopped walking, staring down at his shoes. He looked so unsure of himself, Dean had no idea how to even act. He ran a hand through his messy hair, very obviously avoiding eye contact. He hummed sort of absently, like he didn’t really know how to respond.

“Is that, um, is that okay? I think Sam would like to meet you. He’s uh,” Dean paused, trying to find the right words. It’s not like he talked about Cas a lot, or even talked about him by name. But Sam just…Sam sort of always knew. “He’s a smart kid.”

Cas looked up at Dean through his eyelashes, and damn all of his breath just about ran out of his body.

“I like mac ‘n cheese.”

He smirked, all of his momentary awkwardness fading away.

“Awesome. Um, meet me outside after school?”

Cas kissed him hard, digging his fingers into Dean’s hips for a moment before pulling away and walking backwards down the hallway. His eyes roamed up and down, and Dean finally understood what it meant for someone to undress you with their eyes.

“Yes sir,” there was a smirk on his face, playful and filled with promises. He put a hand to his forehead and gave Dean a lazy salute before finally turning and walking away.

Dean immediately looked at his watch. Two more hours. He could handle two more hours.

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

“Well, that escalated quickly.”

“Thank you for your infinite wisdom, Joanna Beth.”

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the impala. Jo was sitting in the passenger seat, one arm hanging out the open window. She just sighed and rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong. Inviting the boyfriend over while mommy and daddy are out on the town.”

“Boyfriend?”

Dean winced at Cas’ voice. Of course Jo had the window open. Of course. Jo looked at him slowly, eyes wide and a little guilty smile on her face.

“Did you invite your boyfriend over tonight too? Does he know about us?”

Cas slid into the back seat, pulling the door closed behind him. Dean and Jo exchanged looks in the front seat. Shit.

“Um…”

Nothing. He had nothing. Stupid, stupid brain.

“Jesus you think loudly.”

Dean turned slowly to look at Cas lounging in the backseat, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I think I prefer lover,” Cas mused, crossing his arms. Dean raised his eyebrows, still not sure what was going on. “Or bae? Feels modern. Your sun and stars?”

Cas smirked at him, cocking one eyebrow.

“Does that make me moon of your life?” Dean responded, catching on.

“Well look at that,” Cas said, laughter in his voice. “It knows how to play.”

“Maybe we’ll stick with boyfriend for now. For simplicity.”

“All in the name of simplicity.”

Dean wanted to climb in the backseat, but Jo might disapprove of the display. Jo, who was definitely still sitting in the passenger seat. Dean glanced over at her, just to see the most ridiculous look on her face.

“I won’t say that was the cutest thing ever, but definitely right up there.”

Dean opted for the much more aggressive “shut up Harvelle” while Cas very genuinely said “thank you” at the exact same time.

“Let’s just go home, jeeze,” Dean sighed. “I have applications to work on.”

The impala rumbled to life beneath his fingers.

“Applications?” Cas asked, his voice sounding too controlled.

“College,” Jo answered. “You finished your Berkeley one yet? I finished my common app yesterday.”

“Um, yeah. Finished that one…last week? Working on Madison now.”

“Ah, Madison. The dream school,” Jo smiled at him.

“Madison?” Cas’ voice came from the backseat. “Madison, Wisconsin?”

“Picked a smart one, Winchester,” Jo laughed. “He even knows his geography.”

“Shut up. Yeah, Cas. Wisconsin. They have a really great ed. program.”

“Better buy some warmer coats,” Cas said, a forced sort of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled distractedly. He glanced up at his rearview mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of Cas’ face in the backseat. He had his arms crossed still, his head leaned back against the seat. He was staring up at the ceiling of the car, a glazed look in his eyes.

“I could never live in Wisconsin. Too damn cold. That’s great, for you though. Really exciting.”

“To each their own, I guess,” Dean responded, wary of the look on Cas’ face.

“Sure,” Cas murmured. “To each their own.”

He felt Jo’s hand on his knee, a soft squeeze and a sad smile on her face. On the whole, he was feeling just generally confused. Did he say something? What made Cas’ demeanor change so rapidly?

“I got my fingers crossed for you, Winchester. I hope you get in, I know how important it is to you.”

She glanced backwards, giving Cas a look that he didn’t catch.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled, still puzzled by the sudden tension in the car. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

“Castiel. That’s a weird name.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Well, maybe he could have. But he chose not to try very hard.

Cas, who had one hip leaned against the counter in Dean’s kitchen, shot him a quick glare before turning his attention back to Sam. His little brother was standing on the other side of the large island, his arms crossed and his eyes intently focused on Cas who just shrugged at his comment.

“Sure, it’s unique. Dean seems to like it though.”

On second thought, maybe Cas shouldn’t have been allowed to speak around Sam.

“Uh, Sam?” Dean cut into the conversation before it could go any further. “We’re gonna go work on some homework upstairs. Come tell me when you’re hungry?”

Sam just nodded curtly before disappearing into the living room. As soon as he was out of sight Dean pinned Cas against the counter, hands gripping the granite on either side of his slim hips.

“Do I really need to give you ground rules?” Dean murmured, conscious of his brother in the next room.

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed, reaching a hand up to card through Dean’s hair. Cas scratched lightly at his scalp, and it was all Dean could do not to close his eyes and melt into Cas’ touch. “I like it when you get all bossy.”

Making eye contact in that moment was definitely a mistake. The hunger in Cas’ eyes was unmistakable, a reflection of the need that was chewing him up inside.

“Okay,” he started, mustering up every ounce of confidence in his body. The words felt awkward on his tongue and they tumbled out of his mouth, tripping on each other along the way. “Get upstairs then.”

Cas didn’t seem the least bit affected by Dean’s lack of seductive abilities. He smiled, just a curve of his pink lips and a brightness in his eyes.

“Lead the way.”

They barely made it to the top of the stairs before they were kissing, their hands roaming and grasping at one another. They stumbled down the hallway, Dean guiding Cas backwards with his hands until he was flat on his back on Dean’s bed.

“Nice place you got here,” he panted, his breathing heavy.

Dean shut the door behind him and then climbed onto his bed, bracing himself with his arms on either side of Cas’ body. The other boy was sprawled out on the bed, the rise and fall of his chest slowing with the passing of every second. Dean slid his shirt up a couple of inches, just enough room so that he could press soft kisses to the skin inside Cas’ hipbones on either side. He slowly slid his t-shirt up further, exposing more and more skin that he covered with feather-light kisses.

Cas’ breathing slowed and slowed, his breaths deep and stuttering. Dean finally slid his shirt over his head, revealing the entirety of his tanned chest. His lips found their way to the hollow at Cas’ throat, to the tendons in his neck, his kisses becoming less measured and planned. Dean kissed a spot, just underneath Cas’ jawline, sucking lightly and worrying the skin between his teeth. Cas just sighed happily, angling his head to give Dean better access.

He could’ve spent hours worshipping Cas’ body, tasting the sweet saltiness of his skin. Tanned and soft, and at the same time flushed and rough in the perfect way. Cas let him explore, running fingers through Dean’s hair when he was close enough but never pushing the tempo. Every once in a while Dean would find a particular spot—like the one under his jaw, or the one just inside his left hip, or the one about an inch above his belly button—that made Cas moan softly, his back arching up into Dean’s touch. He never let their bodies touch though, keeping his own hovering above Cas in a playful sort of way.

“Are you just going to tease me all night?” Cas sighed when Dean got particularly close to the waistband of his pants.

“Maybe,” Dean mumbled against his skin. Before Cas could say anything else Dean peeled his jeans off of his body, then slid his briefs down along with them.

He honestly had no idea what he was doing. He worried about his teeth, and about doing it wrong, but it couldn’t be that hard to imitate what had been done to him. He settled his body between Cas’ legs, the other boy’s hand gently combing through his hair.

He used his tongue to lick a strip from the base of Cas’ cock to the very tip before wrapping his lips around the head. Cas moaned quietly, very obviously trying to stay mostly quiet. Dean moved lower and lower, using one hand to put pressure on the base while his tongue swirled around the top. He slowly lowered his head until all of Cas was inside his mouth. Cas’ fingers tightened in his hair and Dean hummed at the sensation.

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas moaned, his hips lifting off the bed.

Dean found some type of rhythm after that, his mouth and hand working in unison, his tongue sliding up and down Cas’ shaft and putting pressure on the bundle of skin right underneath the head. Cas’ hand was a welcome pressure on the back of his head, guiding Dean’s movements when he wanted a faster rhythm or a deeper thrust.

He knew immediately when Cas was getting close. His muscles tensed up around Dean, his heels digging into Dean’s lower back. His moans got louder, Dean’s name forming on his lips. Dean dropped his head, took as much of Cas into his mouth as he could and held there, his tongue still moving up and down.

Cas practically screamed Dean’s name as he came.

Dean kept his mouth wrapped around Cas’ cock until the pulsing subsided, easily swallowing the hot liquid. When he finally pulled his mouth away, Cas was still panting, lying boneless on his back. Dean kissed his way up Cas’ body, starting from his inner thighs up to his neck. Cas’ breathing never slowed, soft moans and whispers of Dean’s name falling from his lips. Dean finally reached the spot under his jaw, sucking on the skin until it changed to a darker purple shade.

“Ya know,” Cas groaned, his voice raw and breathy. “You don’t have to mark me up like that. I’m already—”

Dean kissed him, feeling a smile spread across Cas’ face. Cas slid his hand up to cup Dean’s jaw, his thumb pulling Dean’s lower lip open so Cas could slide his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean moaned long and deep, unashamed at how much he was enjoying this, how quickly he had become addicted to this boy.

Time was lost in that kiss, their bodies tangled and pressed together in every way possible. Dean felt almost drunk on the taste of Cas, his body buzzing with the need to be closer. He ran a possessive hand down Cas’ side, then back up to his neck to run his thumb across the dark spot on his neck.

“Yours,” Cas sighed, moaning into Dean’s mouth.

And Dean just about lost it. He had no idea where this was coming from, this need to mark and claim, the echo of his own words burning in his mind. Cas just made him absolutely crazy.

“We should probably go downstairs soon,” Dean mumbled, trying valiantly to pull his body away but unable to put any distance between them for more than two seconds.

“Not yet,” Cas replied, using his legs to flip them over so that Dean was on his back with Cas lying on top of him. “I’m not done with you.”

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

Getting dressed took longer than it should have. They kept stopping to kiss each other, which never stopped at just a kiss or two and always escalated to one of them losing a piece of clothing they had just put back on.

Of course, Dean wasn’t really complaining.

He finally got all his clothes on and opened his door to leave, only making it two steps through the doorway before Cas grabbed his hand and pulled him back in. Before he knew what was happening Cas got him pinned against the wall in his bedroom and kissed him softly, pulling away after only a second or two to look Dean in the eyes.

“What?” Dean said after a couple of seconds of silence. Cas had a weird look in his eyes, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what words to use. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“Shut up,” Cas smiled, turning away and walking out of Dean’s room.

Dean just shook his head and followed, not sure what that weird little moment was.

“Sammy, you hungry?” Dean yelled into the living room when they got downstairs.

“Yeah!” Sam called back.

“Mac ‘n cheese?” Cas asked, leaning up against the counter again. Dean just nodded, going around the kitchen collecting ingredients and a pot to cook in. “So, Wisconsin huh?”

Dean just shrugged, continuing with his cooking while he spoke. “I, uh, I probably won’t get in. UKansas seems more doable. Still, it’s worth a shot.”

“Didn’t you apply to some UC schools?”

“Yeah, but even if I get in I couldn’t go. Too damn expensive. Jo and I just applied to see which ones we could get into.”

Cas just hummed in response.

“Why are you being so weird about it?” Dean asked, seeing the same glazed sort of look on Cas’ face as he had seen in the car earlier. He left the water boiling and walked over to Cas, grabbing one of his hands and lacing their fingers together.

“You’re going to get in,” Cas said sadly, a small smile on his face.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No, no of course not. But Dean it’s…” he paused, like he didn’t want to say the next part. “It’s in Wisconsin.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean laughed. “I’m aware of that.”

“So you’ll move to Wisconsin. And I’ll stay here.”

Dean felt like he got knocked on his ass by a cannonball.

“I never…” he started, not sure what to say. His brain was a big jumble of words, all of them rushing to get out of his mouth. “I never, um, thought about it. I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. I mean recently, when I pictured it, I just, I, um, I always just, um, pictured you there too.”

Something flashed across Cas’ face before he looked away, pulling his hand out of Dean’s grasp. When he looked back at Dean he just had this stupid, cocky, uncaring smirk on his face.

“Dean, relax. It’s fine. We’ll just have some fun while you’re here and then you can go off and find somebody who deserves you. Just promise you’ll invite me to the wedding.”

Dean’s chest felt like ice. He knew Cas didn’t mean that, he knew that this was more than just a way to pass the time.

“We still have, um, two months of school left? Almost? There’s so much time still.”

Cas actually laughed a little at that, but it was bitter and nothing like his real one.

“Two months of fun, a little bit of summer, and then you’ll move away and forget all about me.”

He looked sad, the smirk on his face twisting into something worse.

“Cas—”

“Water’s boiling.”

Dinner was weird. For Dean, at least. It was like they had gotten in a fight, but there was nothing to apologize for. Cas was probably right. As much as Dean wanted him to be wrong. At least Sam and Cas seemed to be getting along, one less thing that Dean needed to worry about.

After dinner they all decided to watch Batman & Robin because it was an absolute travesty that Cas had never seen it; also maybe because they all secretly liked George Clooney’s Batman in a guilty sort of way.

Dean sent Sam into the living room to set up, hanging back in the kitchen with Cas in an effort to catch a few moments alone.

“Can we talk, um, just for a second?”

“Sure,” Cas said, hopping up on the counter and letting his legs swing. Dean stepped between them, placing his hands on Cas’ hips.

“I like you,” Dean started, earning a big cocky smirk from Cas.

“I’m not surprised,” he sighed.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Dean snapped. “And let me speak. I like you. And I realize that maybe this thing will end in three and a half months when I leave. And maybe it will end in a month when I get tired of you.”

Cas laughed. “Okay first of all—”

Dean cut him off, placing a finger on his lips.

“Shut up.”

Cas put his hands up in surrender and Dean lowered his finger, continuing his speech before his courage abandoned him.

“But however long, I don’t want this to be about wasting time before I go. So if that’s what you want, then, um, maybe you should just—”

Cas cut him off with a soft kiss.

“Dean Winchester, what am I going to do with you?” Cas mused. He tilted his head to the side, one hand on the side of Dean’s neck.

“Um…”

He had no idea where to go from here. Was that a yes? Or…

“I like you way too much for this thing to mean so little. I’m already in too deep. Why not keep going?”

“Okay then,” Dean cleared his throat, trying not to look overly happy. “My sun and stars, wanna go watch Batman?”

Cas grinned at him, no trace of that stupid smirk from earlier.

“Moon of my life, I would love to.”

Sam was asleep before the villains even had their first proper encounter with Batman. Dean didn’t feel too bad; while his little brother was stretched out on the loveseat, he and Cas got the couch. He wouldn’t have called it cuddling, because cuddling and watching a movie felt way too middle school.

But then again, Cas was stretched out on top of him with his head tucked under Dean’s chin and his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist so, maybe he didn’t care all that much.

His parents got home around 11, during the last couple of minutes of the movie. The boys sort of quietly shifted so that they weren’t tangled together anymore, just their feet touching in the middle of the couch. Mary and John both walked into the living room, taking in the scene in front of them. John rustled Dean’s hair and sat on the arm of the couch, focusing his attention on the TV.

“How are my boys?” Mary whispered, staying behind the couch.

“Good,” Dean smiled up at her. “Mom, Dad, this is Cas.”

Cas straightened his body up like he was going to stand, but Mary just placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Watch your movie, sweetheart. It’s so very nice to meet you.”

She smiled down at him in her motherly way, and Dean almost had to laugh at the look of complete surprise on Cas’ face.

“Uh, thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.”

“Oh please,” Mary waved a hand at him. “Mary. My husband John. John?”

She gave John a look that was kind and threatening at the same time. John leaned around Dean so he could look at Cas, never standing up from the couch. His eyes scanned Cas’ entire body, right up to where his socked feet were touching Dean’s on the couch. Then he just sort of nodded and leaned back, refocusing on the TV.

“I have a shotgun. And a couple of rifles. If necessary.”

Mary walked over and smacked John on the back of the head, but the look of pure fear on Cas’ face was absolutely worth it.

“Leave the poor boy alone, my goodness. Dean, sweetheart, don’t stay up too late. We’ll see you in the morning.”

She prodded Sam awake and herded him upstairs, with John following close behind. Cas was quiet for a few minutes while the movie ended before speaking.

“Is your dad going to kill me?”

Dean shrugged. “Probably not. But we should get you home before he changes his mind.”

The ride passed in content silence, both of them sort of sleepy and worn out. They shared a short kiss before Cas hopped out of the car, and Dean didn’t leave until Cas was inside and he saw a light pop on in an upstairs window.

The silence in the car on the drive home felt emptier, more still. Dean felt like his heart was beating too fast, like his breathing was too loud.

Two months.

He reminded himself.

And then summer. Three and a half months.

His own words sounded hollow, echoing in his mind.

Plenty of time.

But it wasn’t, plenty of time. He knew that already. He just didn’t know how short it really was, how fast the time would fly by right in front of his face.

Chapter Text

“Star Wars.”

“Nope.”

“Batman.”

“Which ones?”

“The ones with Christian Bale.”

“Uh, nope.”

“Iron Man?”

“No.”

“Star Trek?”

“Ew.”

“Shut up, asshole. Harry Potter.”

“Does that have the super ginge and the guy with the ugly glasses?”

“Yes, Cas, it does. I can’t say I support your rudeness towards them though.”

“Then I think I maybe watched half of one on TV one time because there was a marathon. Pretty sure I fell asleep.”

“Lord of the Rings?”

“Good lord that sounds terrible. What is that even about?”

“It’s actually based on a true story. I think you’d like it.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re bullshitting me, Winchester?”

Dean grinned across the table at his boyfriend, trying and failing not to look guilty. Cas had his hands folded on the cafeteria table, his head cocked to one side and both of his eyebrows raised suspiciously.

“Why would I lie to you? Jo are you getting all of these?”

“I think so,” she responded, writing a couple more words on the notepad in front of her before looking up. “But I’ll be real with you my hand might fall off before we finish this list. Castiel have you seen any movies in your entire life?”

Cas just shrugged, seeming unconcerned with his lack of movie-experience. He raised a hand and pointed at Jo, turning his attention on her.

“Is he lying to me?”

Dean and Jo exchanged looks before she answered.

“Like he said, why would he lie to you?” she smiled sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Gabe appeared at the table right then, sitting down across from Jo and next to Cas.

“Why would Dean lie?” he commented, sticking a lollipop into his mouth. Cas spun to face him, eyes searching his face for signs of deception.

“Is Lord of the Rings based on a true story?”

To his credit, Gabe didn’t even flinch at the question. He just turned his head a smidge to the side, trying to catch Dean’s eye. Cas smacked the table with his palm, snatching Gabe’s attention.

“Don’t look at him,” Cas snapped. Dean wanted to laugh at the seriousness of his tone, but he reined it in. “Answer the question.”

Gabe just cleared his throat quietly, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

“Pretty sure it is.”

Cas turned his glare on Dean, his eyes still suspicious. Lisa appeared at Dean’s side, her long nails running from his scalp down his neck and down his back, circling across his shoulders. And if Dean thought Cas was glaring at him, he was a hundred percent wrong. The look Cas gave Lisa was right on the edge of murderous, his blue eyes blazing.

“Must you grope him at all times?” Cas growled, his hands fisting on the table.

“Just for you, sugar,” Lisa drawled, winking at him. But she removed her hands, which seemed to placate Cas just a little bit.

Dean reached across the table and uncurled Cas’ fingers with his hands, threading their fingers together. Cas shot him a look that said he knew exactly what Dean was doing, but a small smile was pulling on the corners of his lips so Dean took that as a good sign.

“Rally the troops!” Dean stated, hearing Jo giggle next to him. “On Friday, you are getting educated.”

Dean left for class not long after that, and he only made it about halfway through Chemistry before his phone vibrated with a text.

Cas: I looked up lord of the rings. there are dwarves. and elves.

Dean had to physically cover his mouth to stifle the laugh that tried to escape.

Dean: and?

Cas: no way this shit is based on a true story

Dean: you have something against them?

Cas: just that they don’t exist

Dean: I think youre being very closed minded

Cas: I think youre making shit up

Dean just shook his head and slipped his phone back into his pocket, silently laughing at the exchange. After class he made his way over to the library, as was their routine, and found Cas already sitting in there. Cas jumped up as soon as he saw Dean, kissing him and pressing his back up against the nearest bookshelf. He kissed back for a moment or two, getting lost in the heat of Cas’ lips and the scrape of his slight stubble.

“Hey, Cas?” he mumbled against the other boy’s mouth.

“Mmmm?”

“We’re in the library.”

Cas pulled back for a moment, a wicked sort of gleam in his eyes.

“Yes we are. And it has been a full 17-hours since I last tore your clothes off. Which if you ask me is far too long.”

He pressed hot kisses along Dean’s neck and jawline, his teeth scraping the skin gently. Dean gave in pretty quickly, unable to resist the feeling of Cas’ lips on his skin. A gnawing sort of hunger pooled in his stomach, his hands itching to pull Cas closer. He settled for sliding his hands into Cas’ back pockets, feeling Cas smile just slightly.

“And I’m punishing you.”

“For?” Dean sighed, angling his head to the side.

“Lying to me,” Cas tugged on Dean’s hair, nipping at his jaw.

“I didn’t. The dwarves are a metaphor.”

Cas kissed him, and Dean felt his hands automatically pull Cas closer. Cas had one hand in Dean’s hair still, one hand gripping the shelf behind him. A book was digging into Dean’s back and he was pretty sure he heard one fall down next to him, but he didn’t care.

“And the elves?” Cas breathed against his mouth, lips covering his own before Cas was even done speaking.

Dean moaned against him when Cas’ tongue slid into his mouth, grinding against him and feeling the satisfying hardness in Cas’ jeans. Cas growled in response, pressing Dean harder against the bookshelf. A couple of books definitely fell that time.

“They represent, uh, nature,” Dean mumbled, barely able to piece together a coherent sentence. “Or something.”

Cas leaned into him one more time, one last searing kiss that made Dean’s heart race and his body heat up with need.

And then Cas was moving away from him, sitting down at one of the chairs at the small table. He crossed his arms and propped his feet up on the table, a triumphant look on his face but a definite hunger in his lust-blown pupils. His pink lips were slightly puffy, his blue-eyes bright and happy. Dean had the urge to tackle him, to pin him to the ground and not let him up until Cas was a puddle of sated desire covered in Dean’s teeth marks.

“Over there,” Cas pointed to the other side of the table, out of arms reach. “You need to be far away from me.”

Dean raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, moving slowly away from the bookshelf and shifting the one other chair so he could sit where Cas had pointed.

“Don’t sass me, punk. You know what that shirt does to me.”

Dean glanced down at his dark green Henley, entirely aware of exactly what it did to Cas. But he just smiled innocently, stretching his arms and rolling his neck casually.

“No clue what you’re talking about.”

Cas just glared at him, and Dean took the opportunity to change the subject before he acted on his urges.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“I left class early.”

“I thought you weren’t skipping class anymore?” Dean asked, trying not to sound accusing. Just because Cas wanted to flunk out didn’t mean that Dean was going to let him sabotage his whole future.

“I’m not,” Cas paused, the hesitation uncharacteristic for him. “I was with the guidance counselor.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, silently awaiting an explanation.

“Good news,” he started again, staring down at his lap. “I’m graduating.”

“What?” Dean said, surprised excitement leaking out of his voice. “Cas that’s great. That’s so awesome.”

Cas just sort of hummed in acknowledgement, gaze shifting to his dirty shoes.

“You can apply to colleges now,” Dean said excitedly, his whole body buzzing. “I’m sure there are some late deadlines…”

“Dean…”

“…or you could apply for spring semester…”

“Dean…”

“I know for sure Madison has…”

“Dean.”

There was a sadness in Cas’ voice that caught his attention. He looked so unsure of himself, so nervous to say anything.

“Aren’t you excited?” Dean asked, confused by his behavior. This meant that maybe they wouldn’t have to leave each other. This would make everything better, this would scratch out the expiration date they both knew was there. And he didn’t understand why Cas didn’t want that.

“Yeah, sure,” Cas mumbled.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Cas hesitated, and Dean felt a flash of annoyance.

“Nothing’s wrong. It just, doesn’t really matter to me.”

Dean clamped his jaw shut, knowing it would be hanging wide open otherwise. He knew school wasn’t important to Cas, knew college wasn’t his dream, but…

“How can it not matter?”

“Because I don’t want to go to college,” Cas said, avoiding eye contact with Dean. “You know that.”

He had known that. From the very beginning. He just…had hoped that Cas had changed his mind. That this was their miracle, their emergency exit.

“Can we deal with this later?” Cas asked quietly, head finally rising so he could meet Dean’s eyes. His crossed arms looked self-protective now instead of cocky, as they had looked minutes before.

Dean just nodded. Maybe the library wasn’t the place.

“We should get to class,” Cas whispered, gathering up his stuff. Dean followed suit, feeling stiff and unsure of himself.

Cas walked over to him as he stood up, cupping his jaw with one hand and placing a slow, burning kiss on his lips. Dean leaned into it, letting all of his annoyance melt away. Later was okay. Cas pulled away after a few seconds, a warm smile on his face. Dean’s smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle and light up. Dean brought his hand up to Cas’ face, brushing the messy hair off of his forehead before kissing him softly, his hand running slowly through Cas’ hair and down the side of his neck.

“I like you a lot,” Cas mumbled, resting his forehead against Dean’s and running his thumb across his cheek.

“Yeah but do you like me or do you like like me?”

“Depends on my mood.”

They were quiet for a few moments, enjoying being close to each other.

“Later?” Dean whispered, his chest muscles clenching nervously.

“Promise.”

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

As soon as Cas slid into Dean’s car on Friday he grabbed him, much to Cas’ surprise. The kiss was fast and impatient, Dean’s hand running possessively down Cas’ side to settle on his lower back. It took Cas a second to catch up before he was kissing Dean with just as much eagerness.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the greeting,” Cas mumbled, barely breaking the kiss. “But if you don’t quit it, I’m going to fuck you right here.”

Dean groaned at his words. Damn if he didn’t want to take Cas up on that offer.

“Guess what?” he pulled back, smiling at Cas in the passenger seat.

“Let’s see,” Cas tapped his chin with his finger, staring upwards like he was thinking. “We’ve achieved world peace? Time travel has been invented? Oh god, are the British coming?”

“Think bigger,” Dean laughed.

“I give up. Enlighten me.”

“Sam is going home with Jess and her mom. And Jo left with Michael.”

Understanding flashed across Cas’ face.

“When is everybody supposed to come over?”

Dean glanced down at his watch. “About an hour. Wonder how we can pass the time?”

Cas kissed him hard, and Dean came very close to pulling Cas into his lap right there in the school parking lot.

“You should start driving then.”

Dean made it to Cas’ place in record time. It wasn’t that they were never alone, and it wasn’t that they never got to do this. There was just this inexplicable, buzzing excitement coursing through his body. Like this one hour was fundamentally important.

And he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when they didn’t make it any further than the carpet of the living room just a few feet inside the front door.

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

They laid on the floor together for a while afterwards, Cas’ head resting on Dean’s chest while Dean ran his fingers through the already ruffled brown hair.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m going to hate this movie?” Cas mumbled, his voice sounding slurred and sleepy.

“Because you’re a pessimist,” Dean sighed in response. “And you have something against true art.”

“I find it very hard to believe that something called King of the Bracelets is true art.”

“I will toss you to the curb,” Dean grumbled, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“No you won’t. I’m too pretty and you like me too much.”

“You’re right. I’m just using you for your body.”

“Damn it. I thought I was using you for your body,” Cas whined. “One of us is getting played here.”

“Dibs on being the player.”

Cas just laughed and pressed a warm kiss to the pulse in Dean’s throat. Dean sighed happily and tilted his head so Cas could reach the spot beneath his ear, the one he knew Dean liked.

“I don’t think you’ll hate it.”

“And why’s that,” Cas hummed between kisses, his mouth deliciously hot against Dean’s skin.

“You like Game of Thrones. It sort of has that vibe.”

Dean tried very hard to act like he wasn’t struggling to put together words. Cas nuzzled his neck, and Dean felt him suck a small spot in the middle of it.

“Really?” Dean felt a small moan escape his throat as he tried to speak. “Right where I can’t hide it?”

Cas huffed a small laugh, and Dean felt him smile.

“Don’t act so tortured. And I don’t like Game of Thrones.”

“My sun and stars, I beg to differ.”

Cas grinned and kissed him on the lips, warm and slow and overflowing with affection.

“Put some clothes on before my self-restraint wears out,” Cas snapped, laughter in his voice.

Dean obliged, and it was probably a good thing that he did because Jo and Michael arrived about ten minutes later, Jo’s extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring in hand.

“I hope you kids are ready for this,” Jo said with a smile, strolling into the living room and making herself comfortable on one of the couches. Michael slouched down next to her, an arm casually slung around her shoulders. “Three and a half hours of cinematic gold.”

Michael rolled his eyes at her dramatic flair. “This isn’t even the good one.”

Jo glared at him and hit him lightly on the chest. Dean and Cas couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Excuse you?” she snapped.

“I mean…this isn’t even the best one. Return of the King hands down.”

“No way,” Dean joined in. “Two Towers all the way. Nothing beats Helm’s Deep.”

“Um, hello?” Jo butted in. “Minas Tirith? The Army of the Dead?”

“Sure, and then every five minutes you have to watch Frodo and Sam crawl on the ground and otherwise get their asses kicked by Mount Doom. No thank you.”

“Wow,” Cas said, dragging out the syllables. “I literally have never heard a nerdier conversation in my life. Please stop before I spontaneously develop asthma and a need for glasses.”

Dean flopped down on a different couch, picking up a pillow and flinging it at Cas.

“Yeah guys, better stop. He’d look terrible with glasses.”

Cas shot him a shocked glare, tilting his head to the side.

“First of all, rude. Second of all,” he paused and glanced quickly behind him, the sound of the doorbell echoing through the house. He turned and flung the pillow back at Dean before walking towards the door. “ Pillow fighting? How old are you?”

“Thirteen!” Dean yelled down the hallway.

He heard the door open and close, muffled greetings and several sets of footsteps sounding down the hallway.

“Damn,” came Lisa’s voice as she came into Dean’s line of sight. “You’re hot for thirteen.”

Cas came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her off balance against his side. He sighed angrily at her, but she was laughing and Dean could see a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Gabe and Benny walked into the room behind him, each of them finding a place to sit down.

“You, Ms. Braeden, are dangerously close to never being welcome in my house ever again. And you,” he pointed at Dean, who was still lounging on the couch. “Get that smile off your face and quit enjoying this so much.”

He let Lisa go, and she wandered over to sit next to Benny. As soon as Cas was within reach, Dean grabbed his belt loops and tugged, urging him to sit down.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” Dean grinned, earning another glare from Cas.

“I am not. And I hate you.”

“He hates you too,” Gabe chimed in, making the rest of the group laugh. “Now can we start this thing?”

It turned out that Dean was 100% right, about Cas liking the movie. He spent the first half with his head on Dean’s lap; Dean spent the first half of the movie figuring out just how distracting Cas’ hair was, especially when he had his fingers in it. When the Fellowship entered the Mines of Moria, Cas sat up and crossed his legs like he needed to watch more closely.

“I’m so stressed out,” he whispered, grabbing Dean’s hand between both of his own and bringing it up to his mouth. Dean started to laugh until he felt teeth on his fingers.

“Um, ow, hello that’s my hand,” Dean grumbled, tugging but not trying very hard to pull his hand away. Cas just chuckled quietly.

He didn’t really talk for the rest of it, just made small noises of shock or sadness as the events unfolded. When the Fellowship got separated at the end, Dean was sure he was going to crawl off of the couch and sit on the floor a foot away from the T.V. And then it was over, and Cas was not happy.

“Are you kidding me?” he groaned. “That’s the end?”

“Was it not long enough for you?” Jo laughed. “Cause I promise you this is the longest version of the movie there is.”

“It can’t just end there, though. What happens to them?”

“There’s twenty five more hours of movie, Castiel, don’t you worry,” Gabe laughed, rubbing his eyes and standing up to stretch.

Cas spun around and stared at Dean, excitement in his eyes.

“Can we watch them?”

Dean just put his hand to his ear, turning like he needed to hear better.

“I’m sorry what was that? Did you say you liked it?”

“Shut up,” Cas snapped, releasing his hand.

They all said their goodbyes after that, deciding that one three-hour movie was enough for one night. Dean stayed on the couch while Cas walked everyone out, resting his head on the back of the couch and letting his tired eyes fall closed. He didn’t hear Cas approach, just felt his hands slide down his chest from behind. He didn’t open his eyes either, listening to Cas' contented humming from behind him. Cas leaned over the couch and kissed him, slow and soft and all upside-down. Dean sighed into his mouth, reaching a hand back to the nape of Cas’ neck.

“Hi Mary Jane,” Dean mumbled sleepily.

“Is that a reference?”

“Seriously, dude?” Dean stared up at him, his upside-down face looking odd in the dim light. “Spiderman too?”

“I mean I know who he is, if that helps.”

“No. No it does not.”

Cas chuckled and walked around the couch, pushing Dean onto his back and sprawling out on top of him. Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then settled his chin on top of Cas’ head.

“When are Mom and Dad Winchester expecting you home?” Cas asked after a couple of minutes, his voice quiet.

“They’re not,” Dean said happily, feeling Cas twitch on top of him. “I said I’d be over at Benny’s. I think my mom knew, but she appreciated the lie at least.”

Cas kissed him chastely before settling his head back on Dean’s chest.

“You in my bed on Saturdays. I swear.”

Dean just smiled, and they were both quiet again for a few minutes.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean broke the silence, not sure he even really wanted to speak.

“Mmmm?”

“Is it later?”

Cas took a few moments to respond, his back tense under Dean’s hands.

“Does it have to be?”

Dean thought about that for a couple of seconds.

“No,” he mused, fairly confident in his answer. “Just, as long as later is, um, sometime.”

Cas would talk to him. When he was ready. And then they could figure this out. Whatever that meant.

“Promise.” Cas whispered, barely audible.

And if Dean chose to ignore the shakiness of Cas’ voice, he tried very hard not to think about it.

Chapter Text

Later came on a Thursday, about three weeks before graduation. The day that Dean got his letter from Wisconsin.

His mom just sort of quietly placed it on his desk in his room, never asking what was inside. She probably knew she didn’t need to. For the first day Dean just stared at it. Quite honestly, he had no idea what he was hoping would be inside. He wanted to get in, so badly. And then there was everything he would have to sacrifice.

Mostly just the one thing, if he was being honest with himself.

On Friday, he decided to open it. He had been distracted all day at school; enough so that he had actually told his English teacher that Macbeth’s primary antagonist was “probably that wannabe baby-killing lady.”

He didn’t feel like he had been holding it in his hands for that long, but then all of a sudden it was eleven o’clock at night and he couldn’t read the text on the front anymore because it was too dark outside. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and dropped the letter on his bed, entirely sure that he wasn’t as prepared as he’d thought he was.

Dean: where are you?

The reply came a few minutes later; or at least it felt like a few minutes, since he just stared at the bright screen the entire time.

Cas: did you mean to ask what im wearing? much better conversation starter

Dean: ha ha. im serious

Dean flopped back on his bed, completely aware of how melodramatic he was sounding. In any case it got Cas’ attention, and his phone starting ringing in his hand just a few moments later.

“Tell me,” Cas said as soon as Dean accepted the call.

Dean hesitated. His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, given the insane amount of background noise happening on his end of the call. It all just sounded very overwhelming, thumping music and drunken voices blaring in the silence of his dark bedroom.

“Did it come? Did you open it?”

Dean still didn’t answer, he just nodded his head a bit in response. He closed his eyes and wrapped himself up in Cas’ voice, imagining his expressions as he spoke.

“Baby, I can’t see you. Use your words.”

Dean huffed out a small laugh.

“Where are you?” he mumbled again, eyes drifting to the letter lying on his bed.

“I’ll take that as a no, you didn’t open it. And I’m visiting Balth, remember? We talked about this like, a couple of hours ago? During school?”

Of fucking course he was visiting Balthazar. It wasn’t like it was the first time; Dean knew how important the stupid douchebag was to Cas after everything they’d been through and never objected to them platonically spending time together every once in a while—as much as he really, really wanted to. This time was just spectacularly poor timing. And Dean had been way too out of it the past couple of days to even put the pieces together.

“I, um, I was distracted,” Dean tried to gather himself, to act like the news wasn’t surprising to him.

There was silence on the other end of the line for several moments, aside from all of the rambunctious background noises.

“I’ll come back right now. I can be there in a couple of hours. I’ll text you when—”

There was a loud rustling on the phone, and then Dean heard Cas’ voice yell something incoherent, sounding far away from the phone. Then there was this sort of deep chuckle that Dean was, unfortunately, very familiar with.

“It’s so very nice to hear from you again, little ape.”

“Fuck off, Billy Joel,” Dean growled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. His words were slurred, and it was obvious he’d been drinking pretty heavily. Dean tried very hard not to think if Cas had been doing the same. “I don’t need your bullshit right now.”

“Funnily enough,” Balthazar started, and Dean could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m not much in the mood for yours, either. We were having a lovely time, Cassie and I, why not run along and let us be?”

He laughed again, and there was another round of rustling and curse words as the phone presumably changed hands before Dean could start forming the many words he had for the bimbo.

“Dean? You there?”

Cas’ voice was laced with worry, soft and almost unbearably calm.

“Uh, yeah.”

He felt so tired, so torn in a million different directions. He wanted the letter to say no, to make the decision for him. He wanted the letter to say yes, to hand him the future he’d been working so hard for. He wanted to tear it up and never know what it said. He wanted Cas by his side.

“Sorry about that stupid motherfucker!" He yelled the last part, like it wasn't really intended for Dean. "I’m leaving right now,” he laughed, presumably over whatever response Balthazar had given him.

“Cas, don’t.”

He wasn’t really sure where those words came from. He hadn’t planned on saying them, at all.

“What?”

Cas hesitated, clearly caught off guard by Dean’s response.

“Just, don’t drive right now. You’ve probably been drinking and I don’t want—”

“Dean, come on I’m sober enough, I promise. Just give me a few hours and—”

“I’ll just, see you on, um, Sunday. Okay?”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean spent a few moments just listening to his breathing over the phone.

“Okay,” Cas sighed, silence hanging on the line for a couple of seconds before Dean ended the call.

He stared up at the ceiling for who knows how long, the darkness of his room indistinguishable from the backs of his eyelids. At some point he fell asleep, sprawled out on top of his comforter with the white letter lying next to him.

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

He woke up to a very familiar, sweet, soapy scent in his nose. He noticed said nose was pressed up against bare skin and nuzzled closer, groaning sleepily and pulling his arms tighter around the warm body next to him.

And then his brain caught up to him, and he remembered that he had most definitely gone to bed alone the night before.

“Why’re you here,” Dean mumbled, brushing his lips across the skin of Cas’ neck.

“Would you like me to leave?” Cas chuckled, one hand stroking Dean’s back and the other running through his hair, short nails drawing circles on his scalp.

Dean tightened his arms around Cas’ waist again in response.

“I’m sorry for texting you. I freaked out. I don’t know why. You didn't have to come.”

The words sounded more slurred than he would have liked, his body growing increasingly heavier with each second as sleep tried to drag him back under. They weren’t technically a lie, just maybe an exaggeration. He sort of knew why he freaked out, sort of understood that it all came down to Cas and college, and which one he was willing to sacrifice. This letter just made it real, put the choice right in front of his face and forced him to stare it down. And then he just felt awkward, about his little meltdown, about calling Cas, about forgetting all about his weekend plans.

What a shit boyfriend he was.

“It’s okay,” Cas said, his voice too soothing, like he was tip-toeing around Dean in case he broke. "I know I didn't have to come. Maybe I missed you."

“Stop bein’ so nice. Say something sarcastic or somethin’,” Dean grumbled, uncomfortable with the overwhelming air of pity in the room.

“Listen, I’m just trying to get some from you so I’m being nice. I didn’t even want to fucking cuddle but I got close and you just wrapped yourself around me. Nothing I could do.”

Dean heard the forced smirk in his voice, and decided to be satisfied with that.

“Better.”

Cas hummed in acknowledgement, but Dean was pretty sure he’d felt his entire body tense up, the hand on Dean’s back tightening possessively.

“When’d you get here?”

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed, his breath ghosting across the top of Dean’s scalp as he exhaled. “Seven? Your mom let me in and sent me upstairs. She didn’t really say anything, so I would guess you’ve been a weirdo at home too.”

“Have not been a weirdo, asshole. And how'd you even get here that early? Did you even go to bed last night?”

“Maybe,” Cas laughed, apparently choosing not to provide any other explanation. “And I think I know you pretty well, Mr. Winchester. I wouldn’t argue with me if I were you.”

“Disagree.”

Dean did his best to hide his smile, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Oh really? I know your favorite color is black, like your heart.”

“That one was too easy,” Dean laughed.

“Fine. Favorite food is a crisp salad. Tied with those really big carrots. Favorite dessert is cake.”

“I’m not impressed,” Dean yawned dramatically. “Still too easy. Try harder.”

Cas sighed back.

“How could I possibly impress you,” he mused, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “Favorite music, definitely Justin Bieber.”

“Excuse you. He’s the Biebs.”

“Please God tell me no one calls him that,” Cas laughed, finally cracking.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

Dean tilted his head up and kissed Cas softly, his lips warm and familiar and every single thing that Dean needed. Cas moved his hand to cup Dean’s jaw, his thumb sliding softly across his cheek. Dean sighed into his mouth, and maybe it sounded a little like a moan but he didn’t care. Cas made him crazy like that.

Cas broke the kiss first, but he stayed so close that their lips brushed as he whispered his next words.

“This would be so much easier if I wasn’t completely in love with you.”

Dean caught Cas’ eye, completely caught off guard by the mix of emotions he saw pooling there. He tried to gauge the seriousness of Cas’ expression, but there was nothing sarcastic or joking there. Just this thin veil of…vulnerability? But then that didn’t feel right. It looked more like, well, surprise. Like Cas was utterly shocked that those words had come out of his own mouth.

“Not my fault,” Dean mumbled, not sure how to respond. His heart was racing and he felt his cheeks heating up, which seemed, as usual, to amuse Cas quite a bit. The corners of his lips twitched up, and Dean couldn’t help but stop and think once again about just how gorgeous this boy was, how rapidly those blue eyes had become his calm, those lips his fire.

“Shut up. Completely your fault,” Cas kissed him, harder this time, pulling their bodies together tighter. “You blush like you are right now, and you look at me with those big fucking green eyes and I wish I could show you how you look at me, how you’ve been looking at me ever since that first damn night in my basement when you could barely even speak without stammering and you still drove me insane. I don’t even know what you are doing to me but fuck it all I am so in love with you.”

Dean kissed him hard, too overwhelmed by his words and needing to show him something. Words never were Dean’s strong suit. He felt like he could hear his own heart beating in his throat, hammering away like it was going to explode out of his chest at any moment. Cas slid his tongue into Dean’s mouth, his kiss hot and claiming. Dean’s hands found their way underneath Cas’ thin shirt and he scraped his nails down Cas’ back, not entirely sure that he wasn’t leaving marks. Cas didn’t seem to mind though, if the low groan in the back of his throat was anything to judge by.

“God, I love you,” Cas growled, pinning Dean on his back and stretching out on top of him. Dean moaned at the sudden friction, his hands on Cas’ hips pulling him down harder.

“Castiel," Dean whispered, conscious of the fact that his entire family was home and within hearing distance.

Cas’ lips found their way to Dean’s neck, kisses trailing along his jaw.

“I love you,” Cas sighed, pressing a kiss below his ear. Dean’s body arched up towards him, shivers racing through his veins.

His skin felt like it was on fire and there were thousands of words caught in his throat, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak. Not now, at least. Not when his ears were still ringing with Cas’ voice.

God, I love you. I love you. I am so in love with you.

None of it felt real, and yet here he was with his hands on Cas’ back and butt, the other boy’s lips demanding against his own and his hands in Dean’s hair.

Very, very, excruciatingly real.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Dean’s breathing to pick up and for a very familiar warmth to pool in his belly, all from Cas and that damn way he could roll his hips.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned, past caring about the fact that he lasted longer when he was fourteen. “I-I can’t—”

“Don’t,” Cas interrupted, tearing his lips away from Dean’s for a fraction of a second, his eyes on fire. “Don't stop.”

Their bodies moved in unison for a few more moments, until Dean felt like he could going to explode at any second, before they heard a horrible, sharp, earth shattering knock on the door.

“Dean? Castiel?” came Mary’s voice from the other side of the wood, soft and questioning. “Are you boys awake?”

They both froze immediately, and Dean took a second to decide whether or not he should respond. Would she come in if he said nothing? Would she come in if he answered? Should they move?

“Fuck. Me,” Cas growled, the words only barely audible. His pupils were wide and wild, blue eyes agitated.

“Yeah,” Dean responded, loud enough for his mom to hear.

The squeak in his voice was entirely unintentional, but it must’ve helped his credibility. He didn’t break eye contact with Cas the entire time, their bodies still pressed together and the other boy’s face hovering centimeters above his own.

“It’s almost officially afternoon, so I expect you boys downstairs within the next five minutes.”

As she spoke Cas leaned down and snagged Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulling and sucking softly. Then he barely brushed his tongue across the pink skin, smiling at the way Dean inhaled sharply and as quietly as he possibly could.

“Dean…” she called out again, a little more impatient this time.

“Uh, um, yeah! Five minutes. Got it,” Dean managed, not sure how he was forming words at all with that look on Cas’ face.

Her footsteps faded down the hallway, but neither of them moved.

“Come on,” Cas whispered, kissing Dean softly.

Dean just stared up at him, still in awe. He brought a hand up to run through Cas’ messy dark hair, brushing the longer strands off his forehead. Cas hummed and leaned into the touch, letting Dean pull him down with a hand on the back of his neck.

After a few minutes of slow, claiming, soul-bearing kisses—the kind that make your chest swell up with affection, with need, the kind that make you think you could crawl inside the other person and it wouldn’t be close enough, the kind that last for seconds but feel like hours—they finally got up. Mostly because Cas had way more willpower than Dean did.

Cas stood pretty far away while Dean changed his clothes, probably so as to not test said willpower. When he was finished Dean plopped back down on the bed with his knees bent over the side, snagging the white envelope that had fallen on the floor at some point and just staring at its front once again.

“Are you going to open it or make sweet love to it?” Cas smirked, crossing his arms. When Dean didn’t answer he walked across the room and stopped between Dean’s bent knees. “I’m serious. You need to open it. It’s just a letter.”

“I know,” Dean mumbled. He took a deep breath and opened it, finally, egged on by Cas’ warmth in front of him but still not entirely prepared for what might be inside.

Dear Mr. Winchester…We are pleased to inform you…

He didn’t even read the rest. A huge smile spread across his face and he knew, right then, that he wouldn’t give this up.

“I got in.”

He looked up to meet Cas’ eyes, hoping beyond anything that he would find excitement there. And, of course, Cas didn’t disappoint.

“I fucking knew you would,” Cas grinned, absolutely and completely genuine. “They would’ve been crazy to say no. You’re going to be, what, a beaver?”

“A badger,” Dean laughed, relief flooding his system.

“Ah, so close.”

“You could be one, too,” he tried to sound casual, but his voice was too hopeful to really pull it off.

The smile on Cas’ face slid away slowly as he stepped away from Dean just a smidge, staring down away from Dean’s eyes. He didn’t really respond, barely even acknowledging that Dean had spoken.

“It’s, um, it’s later, isn’t it?” Dean mumbled, staring down at his hands.

“I really don’t think I can put this off any longer so, yeah. I guess it’s later.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the atmosphere in the room shifting so rapidly he almost got whiplash. Dean, for the first time, didn’t feel the need to carry this conversation. This one was on Cas.

“I don’t want to go to college. I never have. And I will never ever tell you not to go because you absolutely should. But I don’t want that.”

Dean looked up when he felt Cas’ fingers in his hair. He looked sad again, and serious. His blue eyes looked a couple of shades darker, but maybe that was Dean’s imagination.

“Come with me, then,” Dean tried, already knowing that he was just grasping at straws. “You don’t have to go to school, you can just—”

“I’m leaving.”

Dean felt like his heart stopped. Surely the rest of the world had stopped spinning, because there was no way that normal life could have been happening all around him in that moment.

“Um, leaving? What, um, what does that even mean?”

“It means that there is so much out there. A whole entire world that I’ve never even seen that’s just waiting and I…” he paused, licking his lips and settling his hands on the sides of Dean’s neck. “There just has to be more. This can’t be it.”

When Dean didn’t respond, Cas apparently decided it was his cue to keep talking.

“I have some money, from when my dad bailed. And, obviously, my mom doesn’t care much what I do. So I’m going to travel, like I’ve always wanted to do. Take pictures, meet people, see the world. All in a day’s work.”

Dean’s chest felt like it was ripping itself apart. He was so angry, and so angry at himself for being angry.

“I never thought that you had other plans,” Dean murmured, holding Cas’ gaze.

“I wish I could just move with you. Live in some Podunk town,” Cas tried to throw on a smile, but it came out weak and only lasted for a second. His eyes roamed Dean’s face, his thumb rubbing across Dean’s lips. “But I just…”

"You can, though. You don't have to leave. Screw seeing the world, screw traveling, screw meeting new people. Just come with me."

Cas seemed to consider it for a second, weighing Dean's words carefully. A mix of emotions flashed across his face, from hope to sadness to guilt to frustration. He dropped his hands, breaking contact with Dean's skin.

"You don't have to leave either."

"I'm sorry, what?" Dean stared up at Cas, genuinely confused.

"I'm not the only one leaving, okay? So why is it on me to give up what I want? Why can't you come with me?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, only to discover that he really didn't have a good reason. But he was frustrated, so he spoke anyway.

"You want me to give up college to go on some trip with you?"

Cas sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the already mussed strands and making them stand up even more.

"Dammit, Dean," he sighed. "No. Fuck no. I'll help you pack your bags, if that's what you want. I just want you to do the same for me."

Dean let out a heavy sigh, dropping his head into his hands and settling his palms over his closed eyes. Fuck if he didn't want to fight Cas on this, convince him to change his mind, make him keep talking until he realized just how very wrong he was. But Cas didn’t really need to continue, and he wasn't really wrong. At all. And like Cas had said, Dean would never ever tell him not to go.

"When are you leaving?" he glanced up, forcing himself to meet Cas' blue eyes.

It hurt to ask, like an actual date would make it more real in some way. He almost didn't want an answer, but he was apparently a masochist at heart and the pain of it grounded him, somehow.

"September? Sometime. Don't worry," he smirked, but it was bitter and Dean didn't like it at all. "You'll leave me behind, not the other way around."

And apparently Cas was just as much of a masochist as Dean was. His words, as true as they were, felt like a knife between the ribs.

“Madison isn’t some Podunk town,” Dean tried, desperately wanting to lighten the air in the room. It earned him another small smirk from Cas, which was only marginally better than the look he'd had on before.

“I mean, it is in Wisconsin…”

“Shut up,” he snapped, only a little bit of real anger in his voice.

Cas' face softened, and his voice dropped down to something just barely louder than a whisper.

“What I said before, I meant it. We have the end of this year, and the summer. Ya know, bang a few gongs before we go out.”

Dean offered up a small smile in response, which he thought was pretty impressive for how he was actually feeling.

“I’m so mad at you,” Dean sighed, grabbing both of Cas’ hands with his own.

“I’m mad at you too,” Cas smiled again, still weak but much more genuine this time.

“And I’m gonna miss you,” Dean stood up, his body already pressed up against Cas’.

“I’m going to miss you like fucking crazy.”

“And I love you.”

Cas looked shocked for a second, but he covered it quickly.

“And I love you.”

Dean kissed him with every fiber of his being, every ounce of his body. These kisses were numbered now. And one of these days they were going to run out.

So when Mary knocked on the door one more time and demanded they “get their butts downstairs, now" and Cas pulled away, Dean pulled him back.

Just one more kiss. For good measure.

Chapter Text

“I, uh, I really don’t dance.”

Cas squinted at him, tilting his head just slightly to the side.

“I can see that. You’re probably really terrible.”

Dean shot him a glare, flopping down on his stomach on Cas’ big bed instead of responding. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, sinking into the familiar smell of this room. There was a soft thud somewhere to his right as Cas presumably dumped his stuff on the ground, and a gentle shifting of the bed as Cas climbed on to join him.

“That was an awfully big sigh, drama queen.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled as he swung an arm backwards, not opening his eyes to look but still feeling his fingers graze Cas’ arm.

“No hitting, you little monster,” Cas snapped, faux rigidness in his voice.

Dean felt Cas’ weight settle on his lower back, just barely above his butt, his knees pressing against Dean’s sides.

“Make me,” Dean countered, knowing full well that Cas couldn’t resist.

And he was right, of course.

“Damn you,” Cas growled, wrapping his hands around each of Dean’s wrists. He bent his arms back, pressing one knee down onto each of his palms to keep his arms in place. Dean didn’t resist, letting Cas bend him in whatever direction he wanted. Cas’ weight on his back was soothing, his cheek pressed comfortably into the warm comforter.

Cas’ hands started wandering around Dean’s back, a mixture of blunt nails against his skin, soft traces of fingers, and hard, massaging circles. Dean groaned softly, his entire body melting under Cas’ hands.

“You’re awfully tense for a Wednesday.”

“You stress me out,” he managed, his voice slurred and weak.

“Yeah yeah blame it on me,” he mumbled, his hands continuing to work the muscles in Dean’s back. “And here I am just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Liar. You’re trying to guilt me with a mediocre massage.”

“Mediocre?” Cas laughed, and Dean knew he must’ve had a big smirk on his face.

“Average. So-so. Unexceptional. Tolerable,” Dean hummed happily as Cas’ thumbs worked on a particularly tight knot at the small of his back. “Sub-par.”

“Shall I just stop then?”

Dean felt Cas’ chest press up against his back, his lips on Dean’s neck right beneath his ear. He felt his lips twitch up, his body itching to flip over and get his hands on Cas.

“Quit kissing me and rub my back.”

“Quit being a grouch and go to prom with me,” Cas echoed back, no hesitation.

“Castiel Novak. You cannot make me go to freaking prom. No way.”

“Dean Winchester. I think you underestimate my sneakiness.”

“Nope,” Dean laughed, tilting his chin as Cas’ hands worked on his shoulders and neck. “I know exactly what kind of sneaky fucker you are.”

“Ah, but I’m your sneaky fucker. Just picture,” he slid his fingers into Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp softly. “Big limo, delicious dinner, all of our friends, a full flask, me in a tux...”

His voice trailed off, a big question mark in his tone.

“You’re gonna wear a tux?” Dean perked up, a lovely scene forming in his mind. A scene, specifically, in which he got to peel each and every piece of that tux off of Cas’ body. Except for maybe the tie.

Tie on sounded real good.

“Of course I’ll wear a tux,” Cas laughed. “I’ve seen the way you look at that Batman guy. I know what you like.”

Dean contemplated for a moment. None of that sounded too terrible.

“Why do you even want to go so bad? Don’t you know how much it sucks?”

“No. I’ve never been. And as a semi-functional human teenager, I feel as if this is a type of torture I must endure.”

“Yeah, well, you go ahead and endure but leave me out of it. I’ve done my time thank you very much.”

“What if I promise to make it really worth your while?”

“Tempting,” Dean hummed. “But it’s in two days. Probably too late to decide to go.”

“What if I tell you that I already bought our tickets and paid for our part of the limo?”

And that was how Dean ended up in front of his mom’s full length mirror on that Friday night, blushing while she fussed over his bow-tie.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m already late.”

“Then you can be a couple more minutes late.”

Sam wandered into the room then, and Dean was immediately envious of his sweatpants and comfy t-shirt.

“Nice monkey suit,” he laughed, looking Dean up and down.

“You’re a monkey suit,” Dean snapped.

“Good one, jerk,” Sam laughed louder this time, his big goofy grin on his face.

“Bitch.”

“Stop it you two,” Mary interjected, swatting Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Enough of the bickering. Dean, sweetheart, you look lovely.”

“Mom,” Dean whined, screwing up his face. “I do not look lovely. Please tell me I don’t look lovely.”

“You don’t look lovely,” Sam chimed in, earning himself a burning glare from Mary.

“Handsome, then.” She smiled at him in her motherly way, spinning him around and dusting off his shoulders.

“Perfect. Now get downstairs your friends are waiting.”

Jo and Benny were waiting in the kitchen. Benny was dressed in a simple black suit with a red tie, to match his date’s dress. Jo had on a tight black dress with gold heels that Dean might have called badass if he wasn’t 100% sure that it would get him an ass-kicking.

“Brother, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up. Who even knew you could clean up?” Dean smiled, patting Benny on the back. It was true, his best friend was not one for clothing fancier than dark jeans and maybe a sweater. If it was necessary.

“Yeah well,” Benny glanced down at himself, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want to wear a jacket. You know, turn it down a bit. But you know Lisa—“

“Is a bitch?” Jo interrupted, laughing and crossing her arms.

Benny rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously, like Lisa might hear him if he spoke ill of her.

“Well, Winchester, aren’t you going to tell me I look hot?”

Jo did a quick twirl, and Dean was just impressed that she didn’t topple over in her heels.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I’ve seen better.”

Jo scoffed and smacked him on the arm, muttering something that Dean was sure he was better off not hearing.

“You’re the one in the bow-tie.”

“I like it,” Dean said self-consciously, tugging on the dark grey fabric.

“I wore a bow-tie to my senior prom,” John said, coming into the kitchen from the living room. “Like father like son. Except my suit was more colorful.”

“No offense Mr. Winchester, but that was the 70’s. The fashion was a bit different.”

They all laughed, and Dean had to applaud Jo’s bravery in poking fun at his dad. Even Benny ventured no further than “yes, sir” and “no, sir” when interacting with him.

“Don’t underestimate the power of the bow-tie. My date loved it. She even requested that I wear one at our wedding.”

His voice was just as gruff and serious as ever, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. He wandered over to the fridge and grabbed a beer, making his way back into the living room.

“Don’t get anybody pregnant,” he called over his shoulder, pausing just slightly as he seemed to realize his mistake. “Or, whatever,” he grumbled, taking a big gulp of his beer.

“Oh, god,” Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

They drove to Cas’ place in Dean’s car, intending on meeting all of their dates there. Dean noticed, shockingly enough, that the sedan was actually parked in the driveway when they got there. He swallowed dryly, feeling an entirely new sense of panic settle over him.

They made their way to the door and Dean knocked lightly, hoping beyond everything that Naomi wouldn’t be the one to answer the door. He had only met her the one time, since Cas seemed determined to avoid any further interactions, and it wasn’t a pleasant memory. So, of course, when the door swung open it was Naomi’s cold smile that greeted them.

“Castiel’s friends, I assume?”

Her voice was slightly warmer than Dean remembered, her smile a bit softer, maybe out of politeness. He tried to smile back, but he wasn’t really sure what it ended up looking like.

“Uh, yeah. Dean, this is Jo and Benny.”

He gestured to each of them, not sure if she really remembered him or not. Judging by the spark in her eye and the way her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, he assumed that she knew him.

“Ah, Dean. You’re still around. A pleasure to see you again, I’m sure. And lovely to meet the two of you. Please, come in.”

Dean felt a chill run down his spine as he walked past her.

Everyone else seemed to have arrived already, and they were all gathered in the living room chatting and taking pictures. Jo found Michael fairly quickly, and Dean wished he could’ve taken a picture of the guy’s face when he saw her. He felt the same way about Benny when the two of them spotted Lisa. She was dressed in a floor length red dress that managed to be formfitting and flowing all at the same time, her hair was done up in an elaborate bun, and her skin might as well have been glowing.

“Wow,” Benny mumbled, looking awestruck.

“Correct,” Lisa smiled, clearly pleased with the reaction. She gave him a quick hug and kissed both his cheeks, taking a moment to observe his outfit and tug at his tie before she turned on Dean. “Well don’t you just look handsome.”

She tugged at his bow-tie as well, smiling genuinely.

“You too,” he grinned, bowing his head just slightly.

“Go find your man,” she laughed, patting him on the chest and turning back to focus on Benny.

Dean spun around, intending to do exactly that, and almost passed out. Cas was standing a few feet behind him, looking at him with a shocked sort of expression on his face. He was wearing a dark grey tux, with a white shirt and a skinny black tie. His hair was mussed and sticking up, exactly how Dean liked it, and his cheeks were just barely tinted pink with warmth. The tux fit him to a T, tailored within an inch of its life to fit him. A smile spread across his face and he licked his lips slowly, nodding his head towards the hallway that led upstairs.

Dean smiled back, so Cas spun and very calmly strolled down the hallway and up the stairs. Dean hung back for a moment or two before following, enjoying the way his pants hugged his ass with each step. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs he saw Cas standing there, leaning up against the wall. He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hands, lacing their fingers together and quietly pulling him closer.

“I’m making you wear a suit every day,” he whispered, eyes lingering on Dean’s lips.

“Castiel you look very handsome,” Dean whispered back, thoroughly enjoying the warmth of Cas’ gaze.

“And Dean, you look very dapper.”

He kissed Dean, unbearably soft, his thumbs slowly tracing circles on the backs of Dean’s palms. His grip tightened, and Dean felt a sort of desperation in his lips.

“I can’t believe you wore a bow-tie.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It looks fucking hot,” Cas sighed, his breath warm against Dean’s mouth

“That’s a bad thing?” Dean chuckled.

“No,” he hummed, slowly bringing Dean’s hands up to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on the back of each palm. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Dean felt his cheeks heat up, warmth spreading up his neck. Cas’ gaze was almost too intense, his blue eyes making Dean’s heart race.

“You know,” Dean whispered, pulling one of his hands free and tugging lightly on Cas’ tie. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept this on for forever.”

“Oh?” Cas smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t imagine why.”

“‘Cause I can do this.”

He pulled a little harder, pulling Cas forward and kissing him, tugging on his bottom lip and sliding his tongue against Cas’.

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed after Dean pulled away, his lips looking puffier and pinker than usual. “Maybe for special occasions.”

He smiled wickedly, giving Dean one last long, heated kiss before spinning away and heading downstairs. Cas stopped him one more time before they got back to the living room and the rest of the group.

“What?”

“Your tie is crooked.”

He tugged on it, straightening it out, then ran his hands down Dean’s chest.

“I love you.”

Dean kissed him gently, feeling Cas melt against him.

“And I love you.”

Dinner, which was basically just a potluck, was delicious. Turned out that Charlie made some mean scalloped potatoes, and Michael made fantastic pesto chicken. Cas even managed to scrape together homemade pecan pie, which he never said was made for Dean but he definitely had a suspicion.

Everyone was sort of in their own little worlds, huddled together in pairs or, in one case, triplets. When Gabe had arrived with Meg on one arm and Anna on the other everyone was a bit surprised; when they explained that they were just accompanying each other until they could steal another date, no one batted an eye.

“So, uh, Naomi’s home,” Dean mentioned during dinner, taking advantage of the relative quiet amongst the group’s chatter. He hadn’t seen her since he arrived, assuming that she was holed up in an office somewhere.

“She’s in the house, if that’s what you mean. Was she a bitch?”

He said it with a laugh, like it didn’t matter, but Dean knew him better than that.

“I wouldn’t say that. Frigid, yes. Bitchy, not quite.”

“Sorry about that. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Of course the one time a meeting gets cancelled.”

Dean leaned over and planted a small kiss on his lips, running a hand from the nape of his neck to the small of his back.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The limo arrived fairly soon after that, and everybody scurried outside to pile in. It was generally gigantic, and it looked like someone took a Hummer and stretched it out to three times its normal size. Inside was a mess of lights, loud music, and various flasks being passed around. Dean wasn’t sure what the first three or four pulls were, and by the fifth he didn’t really care anymore. He and Cas couldn’t keep their hands off each other the entire ride either, which wasn’t exactly the worst thing ever.

Everybody piled out of the limo and filed inside, acting as sober as possible until they got past the chaperones standing outside. Dean and Cas were the last ones out, savoring every second in the relatively confined space of the car. When they finally stumbled inside, they were greeted by pounding music that was about ten notches too loud, bad decorations, a table full of cheap snacks, and tons of sweaty classmates.

“Fuck,” Cas laughed, his head swiveling around.

“Welcome to prom. Is it everything you dreamed it’d be?”

Cas swung his head lazily to look at Dean, a smirk on his face.

“I hate it. Holy shit I completely hate it.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and kissed him, feeling him laugh against his lips.

“This is why I love you.”

“This is why? And here I thought it was my incredible good looks and winning personality.”

“I love you in spite of your looks and your personality,” Dean grinned. “Have you seen your hair?”

“Shut up, punk,” Cas laughed, his kiss filled with pure contentment. “Let’s go find somewhere to hide.”

And hide they did. Sort of. If picking the table in the furthest corner with the least amount of people around could be considered hiding. And they laughed, and talked, and drank, and sang along to the songs they knew plus some they didn’t.

Cas even managed to drag Dean out on the dance floor for one slow song.

“Cas. You are far to drunk to dance. You are gonna to trample my feet,” his body felt pleasantly numb, his head spinning just a little bit.

“Ba da da, ba da da da ba da, ba da da,” Cas sang, way too loudly, and way off key, but he didn’t seem to care. “I’m sorry I can’t hear your bullshit over this incredible song.”

He tugged on Dean’s hand, basically dragging him towards the dance floor. Dean was just laughing, not resisting but not really helping either.

“I refuse to be this cliché. I refuse!”

A couple people stared at them, or maybe glared was more accurate. But fuck ‘em.

“There used to be a graying tower alone on the sea,” Cas continued, wrapping Dean’s arms around his waist and settling his arms on Dean’s shoulders.

“Oh of course. You don’t know who Spock is but you know Seal.”

“Youuuu became,” Cas belted, so far off key it almost sounded like he was trying to harmonize. “The light on the dark side of me.”

“Dude I need to give you some music education.”

Cas started swaying back and forth, Dean’s body moving with his sort of automatically. And certainly without his permission.

“Loooove remained, a drug that’s the high and not the pill.”

“And maybe some singing lessons?”

“But did you know, that when it snows, my eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?”

Cas stared at him expectantly, the biggest, almost childish grin on his face. And Dean just couldn't say no.

“Baby!” he sang, throwing his head back and not giving two shits about the people around them. “I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray.”

“Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah,” Cas continued, both of them laughing almost too hard to actually sing the words.

“And now that your rose is in bloom,”

“A light hits the gloom on the gray,”

“Ba da da, ba da da da ba da, ba da da.”

“There, is so much a man can tell you so much he can say,”

“Youuu, remain, my power, my pleasure, my pain!” Dean sang as loudly as he could, fully aware that he was nowhere close to the right notes.

Cas cracked up laughing, trying and failing to sing the next part. Instead Cas kissed him softly, his hands pulling on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean’s arms around his waist tightened instinctively, the grin on his face almost making it hard to kiss back.

“I fucking love you,” Cas laughed, his forehead resting on Dean’s.

“I fucking love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Before he even knew it had happened graduation passed him by, every day passing faster and faster. Dean tried to catch them as they flew by, but he couldn’t slow them down. He never exactly counted how many days they had; that felt way too real. He knew the number was much smaller than he would’ve liked. Dean tried not to think about it, or focus on it, but everything felt like it had an expiration date. Like if they didn’t do it today, they would never do it.

So they made plans. Lists of places to go, movies to watch, things to do. Cas was determined to make it back to the lake. Dean promised to make him watch all of Marvel’s movies and both Star Trek films since Cas resolutely refused to watch the show. Cas decided to at least learn how to change the oil in a car, but no way was he getting his hands on Dean’s Impala. Dean agreed to let Cas plan all sorts of short-distance road-trips, as long as Dean got to drive.

They made plans, and didn’t follow through with hardly any of them. But maybe that was okay.

In any case, it would’ve been a lie if Dean had said he wasn’t excited about the Fourth of July. First reason, it was a perfectly good excuse to make questionably safe explosives and not get in trouble. Second reason, just fireworks. Who doesn’t love fireworks? And third reason…refer to reason number one.

This year was particularly exciting, because there was actually a fairly large group of people involved instead of just himself, Jo, and Sam out behind the Roadhouse with whatever John would buy them. This year they’d be getting their own fireworks, thank you very much, and planned to take full advantage.

“Please just say you didn’t buy the screeching ones.”

“Of course I bought the screeching ones. They’re like, a necessity.”

Cas groaned and leaned his head against the window, which Dean thought was a very dramatic reaction to have over some Piccolo Pete’s.

“Sure, they’re really great fun when your ears are bleeding.”

“Bah humbug to you, too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bah humbug.”

Cas stared at him like he was speaking in tongues, eyes squinted and his head tilted to the side.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Dude,” It was Dean’s turn to groan this time. Cas’ absolute lack of cultural knowledge seemed to know no bounds. “You have to have seen Christmas Carol. Or Scrooged. Or like, at least heard of the phrase. Come on.”

“Terribly sorry to disappoint you.”

“Well now I have to make you watch a Christmas movie in July.”

Cas mumbled something about “unwarranted torture” but Dean ignored him, reaching across the front seat to grab his hand. Cas kept his gaze out the window, but he laced their fingers together so Dean let him fake mope.

“Ugh, no PDA,” Sam whined from the back seat where he was sitting with Ruby and Jess. “Seriously. Little brother present.”

“I think its cute,” Jess stated happily, her blonde curls bouncing.

“Well, shit,” Dean replied, holding up their hands to stare at them.

“Now we have to stop,” Cas said, pulling his hand away. Dean just laughed, wrapping his fingers back around the steering wheel.

“So. Kids. Ground rules.”

Sam, Ruby, and Jess all simultaneously whined something about “not being kids” but Dean chose to ignore them.

“You don’t have a license, you’re a kid in my book.”

Dean had agreed to bring them to join him and his friends on the grounds that he spent every Fourth of July with Sam. This one was already going to be different, but still.

“No burning down the town, don’t black out, don’t take the candy from the man in the van. Any other rules, oh wise one?”

“She’s sassy,” Cas laughed, gesturing back at Ruby. “I like her.”

“Hang around with her enough and you won’t,” Dean grumbled. “In all seriousness, guys. Two drinks, that’s it. Sammy, don’t tell mom. Girls, stay away from Gabe. He’s too old for you. And don’t wander off. Got it?”

He tried to mimic John’s tone when he gave orders, but he didn’t even come close.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in line,” Jess smiled, angelic as ever. Dean knew not to trust that innocent little smile, but it was something.

“Strict parent is a good look on you,” Cas smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. Dean felt a blush on his cheeks, hoping that the three in the back were engrossed enough in their own conversation to not pay attention.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up.”

“Will you send me to my room if I don’t?”

“Perv,” Dean laughed, Cas’ smile growing.

They were the tail end of a line of three cars, everybody headed out to a patch of empty land that Michael’s parents apparently owned just outside the residential area of Lawrence. Far enough out that grumpy adults wouldn’t yell at them for setting off fireworks, close enough that they could see the city’s bigger show. Dean would’ve preferred it if they could have their own, but wasn’t dedicated enough to break the city laws.

They had a couple hours of daylight left when they arrived, and they spent it drinking and grilling and otherwise burning time. Sam, Jess, and Ruby fit in easily with the rest of the group, which took a whole load of worry off of his back. He hoped that they were sticking to the two drink rule, but they probably weren’t. Somebody brought along a big plastic box that got filled with water, just in case some sparks went rogue. Dean was particularly excited about the small propane grill that was set up in the back of Benny’s pick-up truck, and he spent a good amount of time grilling burgers and drinking beer.

“Ugh, Bud Light,” Lisa said as she sidled up to him, leaning her hip against the side of the truck. Mostly everyone else was sitting down a few feet away, snacking on chips and fruit and examining the pile of fireworks that everybody had contributed to.

“It’s an American tradition,” Dean grinned taking a long drag.

“Yeah and it tastes like it,” she laughed, taking a drink from her own bottle. It was some type of wine cooler, and was probably a hangover in a bottle.

“You better get used to it. Next year all you’ll be drinking is Natty and Keystone.”

She covered her mouth like she was going to vomit and Dean laughed, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his face. It was already disgustingly hot outside, and the heat from the grill wasn’t exactly helping.

“I’m a lady. I don’t drink Natty. There will be plenty of hot boys to buy me much better drinks.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and flashed him her flirtiest smile, and Dean didn’t doubt that for a second.

“Damn girl,” he whistled, flipping over a few of the cooking patties. “You, uh, sure they can handle all that ego down in Texas?”

“It’s confidence, not an ego. And anyway you should be nice to me because pretty soon I’ll leave for school and be gone for good.”

“Nah, you’ll visit me. You like me to much.”

“Damn,” she sighed. She paused for a second, her gaze traveling up and down his body. Dean very dramatically rolled his eyes at her, knowing that she only really did it to make him uncomfortable. “You’re right.”

“Quit checking me out.”

“But you look so hot and sweaty,” she giggled, definitely succeeding in making him blush. Which, of course, was her goal. She ruffled his hair and walked away, going to sit down somewhere with the rest of the group.

The burgers finished a minute or two later, and everybody rushed over to grab one. Dean knew his burgers were good, but it was always fun to watch other people eat them just for the reactions.

“God damn,” Cas moaned as he ate, making Dean hot in all the wrong places. “Marry me, please. And cook these everyday.”

Dean plopped down on the ground next to him, his plate full of potato salad, chips, fruit, and a big delicious looking burger with all the fixings.

“Sure thing. Just pick a date.”

“I’ll let you know,” he mumbled around a particularly large bite.

“I would like to go to Fiji, for the honeymoon. Stay in one of those huts.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Cas laughed, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Love you.”

Dean grinned. “Love you too.”

It didn’t get dark nearly as fast as Dean wanted it to. Michael, Victor, Gabe and Dean passed the time by pulling apart the smaller fireworks and piecing together big monsters that were guaranteed to either be incredible, or to suck. When the sun started to go down somebody opened up some packages of sparklers and passed them around until everybody had one, all of them coming to life one by one.

Some people tried to spell words and make shapes, some people just swirled them around and watched the sparks, but Dean was partial to a different usage.

“Sword fight, Sammy! Let’s go!”

“Oh you’re on.”

They both had a sparkler in each hand, swinging them at each other wildly. The sparks flew in all different directions and Dean felt a few singe his skin, but he didn’t care. They danced around each other for a few minutes, laughing and yelling and hitting the other’s sparkler, if they were lucky. Maybe not surprisingly it was difficult to get close enough without catching stray sparks, but that was kind of the point. The people around them started picking sides, cheering for one brother or the other. Dean was thoroughly miffed when Cas picked Sam’s side, and graduated to annoyed when his little brother won.

“Next time, bitch,” he said, sort of out of breath. “Your ass is grass.”

“Jerk,” Sam panted, still laughing. “What does that even mean, jeeze.”

“What do you even mean!” Dean snapped, only succeeding in making Sam laugh even harder.

After the sparklers were used up mostly everyone found a seat on the ground, leaving the lighting to the pyromaniac boys. They would call out requests, like “do the big green one!” or “I want American Glory!”. For the most part, the fireworks generally sucked. Aside from cool colors and some obnoxious noises. Although, Dean had to admit that it was probably too fun to watch Cas flinch and cover his ears every time a Piccolo Pete fired off.

Dean was particularly pleased with one of his contraptions, a mixture of three Piccolo Pete’s, something called a Keg Stand, an Atomic Warlord, five Morning Glory’s, a Bloomin’ Salute, and an Experiment X. He didn’t have the faintest idea what they all did, but that was most of the fun. He managed to make a reasonably big and loud explosion that made the girls scream and the whole group scoot away a few feet, so he considered it a success.

When they were done, blankets and more beer and other drinks started appearing out of the various cars. Everyone settled down and prepared themselves for the big show.

“When is this thing going to start?” Cas strolled over, handing Dean a lukewarm beer. It wasn’t the best, but it was a miracle that it was cool at all given the heat outside.

Dean stretched his legs out and shrugged, leaving a spot for Cas to sit between his thighs.

“Dunno. Sometime soon. It’s dark enough.”

“Sure hope so,” he sighed, leaning his back up against Dean’s chest and turning his head into the crook of his neck. “I’m tired.”

“No sleeping,” he brushed a hand over Cas’ forehead, pushing the messy hair away.

“Yes sir, drill sergeant,” he hummed, but Dean could hear the sleepiness in his voice.

There was a high-pitched whistling sound and then a loud crack as the first firework shot up into the sky. They all cheered and clapped, holding their drinks up in cheers to the sky. Cas lazily rolled his head to stare up at the sky, grabbing Dean’s hand with his free one.

They were all fairly quiet during the show, the only real talking was ooh’s and ahh’s over the particularly impressive bursts. The cracks of sound were loud like lightning, each one making Dean’s heart jump with excitement. He had a pleasant buzz running under his skin, maybe from adrenaline and maybe from the alcohol. In any case he was happy. Cas’ weight against his chest, Sammy sprawled out on his back next to them, Jess and Ruby cross legged next to him, Jo leaning up against Michael’s knees, Benny laid out between Anna and Meg. It wasn’t the first time that he wished that he could press pause.

He felt more than heard Cas hum, his chest rising and falling with a sigh.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean murmured into his ear.

“Permanence, I suppose.”

Dean huffed a small laugh.

“Um, care to elaborate?”

He seemed to sort of shrug, taking a swig of his beer and staring up at the fireworks for a few minutes. Dean found himself watching Cas more than the fireworks, the flashes of light across his face and the small twitches of his lips.

“The feeling of permanence,” he hummed after a while, still staring up at the sky.

“Pretty sure permanence isn’t a feeling.”

“I say it is,” he stated in that way of his that said there would be no changing his mind. “When you’re really cold. Or you burn your hand. Or you get too drunk.”

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re making negative sense right now.”

“Tired,” he mumbled, softly humming that song Dean knew he liked. He thought about asking, but decided against it.

“Ahem,” came Gabe’s voice, clearly getting everyone’s attention. He stood up, placing his right hand over his heart and pulling his left up in a salute. “Join me, my fellow Americans.”

Some people laughed, some cheered, but they all joined in. Cas brought his and Dean’s joined hands up, laying them both over his heart.

“I pledge allegiance,” Gabe started, before they all caught on. Up in the sky the finale of the firework show had started, a rush of explosion after explosion as different colors flew across the sky and rained down on the city.

“To the flag, of the United States of America!”

They yelled way louder than necessary, their voices echoing in unison.

“And to the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty, and justice, for all!”

As they finished the last fireworks burst in the sky, everyone cheering, clapping, and laughing at the spectacle.

Then the show was over, and the group slowly gathered their stuff and meandered to their cars. The drive home was quiet, and Dean was pretty sure that Cas had fallen asleep at some point. Jess and Ruby got dropped off, then Dean dropped Sam at home before heading over to Cas’ place.

“Mmmm, we home?” Cas mumbled when Dean shut off the car in his driveway. He, very unfortunately, had to park next to Naomi’s sedan.

“You’re home.”

Cas hummed and scooted over, sliding his hand into Dean’s hair and kissing him with much more heat than Dean was prepared for. It took seconds for Dean to feel his entire body heat up, a quiet groan escaping his throat.

“I want to fuck you. Right now. Please.”

“Polite of you to say please,” Dean laughed, sort of caught off guard.

Cas just growled in response, tugging on Dean’s hair and scraping his teeth against the skin of his neck. Dean had to try very hard to keep his brain working.

“Cas, we’re in your driveway.”

“Dean,” he sighed, pressing kisses along his jawline. “I am generally aware of where I am. And I don’t mind. Do you?”

He pulled back for a moment, his lust-filled eyes meeting Dean’s. Dean thought for a moment, a very fast moment in which he decided that sex in the back of his car was most definitely not something that he minded.

He kissed Cas eagerly, and the two of them awkwardly climbed into the backseat while trying their very best to not break away from one another. The space was far too small and generally awkward to maneuver, but he got to pull Cas’ clothes off of him so he wasn’t really complaining.

Shoes and socks and pants and underwear and shirts got piled on the floor of the Impala, Dean ended up on his back with his head sort of uncomfortably pressed against the door of the car. Cas’ skin was hot against his own, his hands finding their way into his hair and his lips to Cas’ neck.

“Pocket lube?” he mumbled with a smile, pulling back again to catch Cas’ eye.

“Pocket lube,” Cas smirked, pulling the small packet out of his crumpled up pants.

Cas wasted no time, his hips giving Dean the pressure he so desperately wanted while his fingers found their way inside him. Dean gritted his teeth at the sensation, but was too distracted by Cas’ lips sucking marks into his skin to feel anything but pleasure. And then he was putty in Cas’ hands, the confined space and the feel of leather against his skin driving him crazy in the best way.

“Fuck,” Cas groaned as he slid deeper and deeper, pulling a quiet moan from Dean. “Baby you feel so damn good.”

His words made Dean blush, which was absolutely ridiculous, but still. He wasn't used to Cas being this verbal, let alone with actual words. Cas pulled softly on Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth, his hand wrapping around Dean’s cock and slowly sliding up and down. Dean felt the pressure in his body building, but it wasn’t enough.

“Castiel,” he moaned, hoping the question in his voice would be heard.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Dean tugged harder on Cas’ hair, making him hiss in pleasure. Dean kissed him hard, nipping at his lips with his teeth. Cas slid a possessive hand up Dean’s side and up to his face, using his thumb to pull his mouth open.

“Faster,” Dean groaned, prying his eyes open to see Cas’ face. Cas grinned down at him wickedly, eyes full of promises.

Dean cried out Cas’ name as he came, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if the neighbors heard him.

The car was far too hot, the air sticky with sweat and the windows fogged up from condensation. There was a handprint on the window above Dean’s head, and he wondered absently when it had gotten there. They laid together for a while, sweat-slicked bodies still pressed together. Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s, closing his eyes and trying to calm his breathing.

“Car sex is patriotic, right?” Cas mumbled after a while, a sneaky smile on his face.

“Car sex in a Chevy? Hell yeah.”

“Thought so. All in the name of independence.”

“We’re freedom fighters.”

Cas pulled back a little bit, a smirk on his face, and brushed the hair off of Dean’s forehead.

“I pledge allegiance, to the ass, of the very hot Dean Winchester.”

Dean laughed, acutely aware of the blush creeping up his cheeks. He pulled Cas down to kiss him, mostly just to shut him up.

“Idiot.”

Cas smiled against his lips, humming quietly.

“Love you too.”

Chapter Text

The text arrived on a Saturday evening, sometime late in July. It was from “Unknown” which Dean thought was absolutely ridiculous considering he didn’t even know that was possible anymore. It was short and sweet, but effective.

Unknown: 9pm. Target on Iowa. First one to Free State stadium after midnight wins.

Dean grinned to himself. He’d been waiting for this moment all summer. Everyone had been waiting for this moment all summer. This meant war.

This meant Fugitive.

Dean had never actually played before, he usually just hid inside with Benny until the madness was over. This was, admittedly, the philosophy of everyone in Lawrence who wasn’t playing. The only people on the streets were fellow players and a handful of police cruisers, just to make sure things didn’t get too out of hand. But this summer, he was playing.

Dean dug through his closet in search of inconspicuous clothes, succeeding in finding black athletic sweats, a black hooded sweatshirt, and black sneakers. Perfect.

Dean: be there in five. you ready?

Jo responded almost instantaneously.

Jo: for your first game of fugitive? more than ready

He swung by the Roadhouse to grab Jo, then went by Benny’s place before heading out to the Target. It was pretty damn far away, but that was sort of the point. On foot it would take about two hours to get from Target to Free State High School. Add in some loops and a more roundabout route, maybe two and a half hours, tops. That was the challenge. Get there the fastest, but not too fast. Arrive before midnight, you lose. Don’t arrive fast enough after the clock strikes, you lose.

Jo and Benny were dressed pretty similarly. Dark colors, hoods up, Jo’s blonde hair pulled back and tucked into her jacket. It was still far too warm for jackets and pants, but that was the sacrifice they made for a slight advantage in the game. When they arrived at Target the parking lot was packed with teenagers in dark clothes, ten cars lined up with the engines running. Dean didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Dean’s skin was crawling with excitement as they waited, and he kept glancing at his phone to see how many minutes were left. Jo was very literally bouncing, chattering about which street would be the best to take. The plan was to take Kasold to Crossgate, over to Iverness and up Wakarusa to sneak in the back. Crossing 6th was going to be a bitch, but this was better than taking Kasold all the way up. The route would put them at Free State in just under two hours if they didn’t stop, which gave them plenty of leeway.

“Attention!”

Dean spun around at the familiar voice, turning to face the line of cars. Cas was standing on top of a big, black, SUV, hands held up in the air and a smirk on his face. He was dressed in black sneakers, black pants, and a black long sleeve shirt, his hair mussed and wild looking, and two streaks of black paint smeared across his cheeks. Dean was half shocked and half really really turned on.

“Cas is a rider?” Dean whispered to Jo, suddenly feeling far less confident.

“He didn’t tell you?” she laughed, amusement in her eyes. “Castiel is, like, the best rider. His car fills up in like the first two minutes.”

“Who’s his driver?”

Jo nodded at the black SUV he was standing on, and Dean noticed Gabe leaning against the driver’s side door. He looked like a hit man, quite honestly, arms crossed and freaking black aviators on his face. It was absolutely ridiculous to have sunglasses on when it was completely dark outside, but then that was Gabe.

“Listen up, losers,” Cas called out, grinning at the chorus of boo’s he got from the crowd. “You know the rules. If you don’t, then get the fuck out!”

Everybody cheered and clapped and stomped their feet.

“FS high stadium, fifty yard line. No cutting through yards this year, old Mrs. Buchanan claims one of her gnomes got broken in the crossfire last year. I say bonus points to whoever brings one of those creepy little shits with them!”

Another chorus of cheers, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at the genuine happiness on Cas’ face. His cheeks looked pink where they weren’t covered in paint, and he was laughing at something that Gabe had said. His head snapped up, and Cas’ eyes found him in the crowd, their gazes locking. Dean gave him a small nod and Cas twitched his eyebrows in response. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dean would’ve called it a challenge.

“Meet your drivers!” Gabe and nine other people Dean didn’t know raised their hands, each of them standing next to a car. “And your riders!” Cas gestured at himself, and the group of people standing around the cars. There looked to be about two or three riders per car, and Dean noticed belatedly that Meg, Victor and Michael were among them. The group was a mixture of girls and guys, all of them looking sufficiently intimidating. Some of them waved, some of them pointed at specific targets, some of them flexed their muscles. All of it succeeded in making him insanely nervous.

“If you get tagged,” he continued, gesturing for everybody else to quiet down. “Don’t be an asshole. Get in the damn car. Please. You have a five minute head start before these cars come after you.”

The entire group tensed up, everybody inching away from the cars slowly. Cas casually glanced at his phone to see the time.

“Ten PM,” he smirked. “Run motherfuckers.”

The first couple of blocks were a blur. Dean, Jo and Benny did their best to get away from the big group, which was much easier said than done. The first challenge would be to get down 31st to Kasold before the riders came after them, so speed was the most important. Dean’s lungs were burning before they even made it to Kasold. He tried to keep track of how many minutes had passed, to no avail.

“Shit shit shit,” Jo squealed, making Dean turn his head in time to catch headlights turning around the corner. The pack of runners scattered, everyone panicking under the pressure. The stretch of road was mostly bare, only scattered trees that were far too spread out to be of any help.

There were screams, laughter, and the screeching of tires coming from the road behind him. Dean cursed himself internally, his mind scrambling for a way out. They needed to get to Crossgate, but the street that would take them there was still a couple of blocks away.

“Harvelle! Lafitte!” Dean hissed, spotting a small neighborhood street on his left. There were a handful of trees lined up just off the main road, inconspicuous enough that they might be able to hide there in the dark. He nodded his head, trying to indicate for them to follow him.

“The fuck are you doing Winchester,” Jo snapped, but she followed him anyway. He gestured for them to hide in the trees, hoping to stay there until the brigade of cars passed them by. There was a small gap in the foliage, small enough that he could see what was going on but not big enough to give them away.

“Just trust me,” he whispered, counting to himself as three rider cars flew past them. They watched from their hiding spot as six more cars drove by, and got to see several riders catch their first victims on foot. Dean’s heart was racing in his chest, and he was all too aware of the fact that the black SUV had yet to drive by.

When it came a couple of minutes later Dean felt a physical weight lift off of him was it drove past them.

And then it stopped.

And reversed.

“Just fucking back up,” he heard somebody yell, a voice that sounded all too much like Cas. “Let me check it out.”

Dean held his breath and watched as Cas hopped out of the car, the paint on his cheeks smeared and his skin glistening with sweat. There were already six or so people hanging out of the SUV, presumably his first victims. Cas strolled down the street, getting closer and closer to them until he thankfully decided to check out the left side of the street first. Dean’s heart was beating like crazy, and he could feel Jo buzzing with adrenaline next to him.

“Come on, Clarence,” Meg whined, climbing out of the car and wandering over to where Cas was investigating the group of trees on the left side of the road. “They’re all gonna get away let’s go he’s not here.”

Cas’ eyes scanned the right side of the street, his head tilting to the side in a way that was far more predatory and far less appealing that usual.

“Sure,” Cas hummed, sounding entirely pleased with himself. And then they were gone, and Dean started breathing again.

“Well now we’re behind,” Jo huffed, clearly displeased. They climbed out of the trees, brushing dried leaves off of their clothes.

“No we’re not,” Dean gestured to the side where there was a small, concrete walking path. “Know where that goes?”

Jo and Benny both just stared at him, clearly not trusting what he had to say.

“The park. So?” Benny crossed his arms, looking doubtful.

“Through the park. Know where it ends?”

They both seemed to ponder this for a moment or two, understanding replacing doubt.

“If you say Crossgate I might cry,” Jo grinned.

“Get some tissues, then.”

Jo hugged him and hurried off, dragging Benny down the path. Before Dean could join them, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. His body immediately tensed up, going on high-alert.

Cas: find a better hiding spot. next time, i wont let you go

Shit.

Dean should’ve been counting his blessings, but he was too annoyed that Cas had just let him go to actually enjoy it. He didn’t want to be handed this win, he wanted to earn it.

Dean: hiding? not sure what you mean

It took a few minutes for Cas to respond, during which Dean managed to psyche himself out to a whole nother level of freak out. When he finally did respond, the three of them were almost out of the park and on their way up Crossgate.

Cas: winner gets a blow job under the bleachers?

Dean rolled his eyes and slipped his phone back into his pocket, refusing to fall into that trap. The trek up Crossgate was fairly smooth, and Dean was starting to think that this game wasn’t as hard as everybody made it out to be.

“At this rate we’re going to just stroll into the stadium,” Dean mused, mostly satisfied with how their plan had worked out thus far.

“Winchester, please shut up before you piss off the Fugitive gods.”

Jo smacked him on the shoulder while she spoke, clearly not on board with his confidence. Before Dean could even smile somebody beat him to the punch, a deep laugh sounding from behind them.

“Fugitive gods here. Let’s fucking go.”

Dean whirled around to see Michael and Victor standing behind them, feet spread clearly in preparation for a chase. And a chase they got.

Dean, Jo and Benny took off running as fast as they could, which was still not quite fast enough to lose Michael and Victor. On a whim they picked a road and turned, trying to get some distance back, at least enough to find a hiding place. The ground beneath their feet quickly turned to dirt, thinning out and nestling itself between much bigger trees. This was good, for them, with more cover and more opportunities to gain ground.

The road took a sharp left, and Dean knew that this was his chance. He turned the corner and dove into the bushes on the side of the road, ignoring the stinging scratches on his hands and neck. He wasn’t sure what happened to Jo and Benny, but he hoped they did something similar. No more than fifteen seconds later he heard the pounding of two pairs of feet, their breathing faster than normal.

“Think you can hide?” Victor called out, his footsteps barely audible in the dirt.

“Joanna Beth,” Michael practically purred, and Dean heard a rustle to his left. He silently cursed Jo for being so easily rattled. ”Found you baby.”

There was a crashing sound as somebody climbed out of the bushes, then the pounding of feet as they took off back in the direction that they had come. Dean waited a minute before he even dared to poke his head out. There was no one around, so he climbed out of the bushes and back onto the road. His skin had taken a beating where it was exposed, which very luckily wasn’t very much.

“Jesus that was close,” Jo said as she climbed down from a tree across the street.

“You didn’t…?”

She shook her head in response, brushing off her hands. “Poor Benny.”

Dean laughed, actually not entirely surprised that Benny had spooked at the boys’ taunting. He made a mental note to thank him later though, for at least leading their attackers away from their hiding spot.

They made it all the way up Iverness without any conflict. They heard some tires screeching and high-pitched squeals, but thankfully none of the riders came up their street. They stuck to the side of the road, both of them jumping anytime they heard a car or caught a flash of light that might have been headlights. Dean got another text from Cas, a little bit after Benny’s demise.

Cas: a little birdy said Benny got picked up near Crossgate. wonder who else was with him?

Dean knew the riders kept in pretty close contact, but he couldn’t help but shiver. If Cas knew what route he was taking, he was screwed. They both knew Cas could run faster than him.

They had about an hour left until midnight, and with Free State getting closer and closer the job of the riders got easier and easier. There were only realistically two roads that led to Free State, and Wakarusa that went around the back. Hopefully, if he was lucky, nobody else would try Wakarusa and the riders would be too occupied down on 6th to notice him crossing.

Of course, they had to get to Wakarusa first. And that meant crossing Billings. When they got to the corner, Dean positioned himself behind a fat tree while Jo poked her head around the corner. The road was long and straight, divided down the middle with a grass median. Jo crept out to the middle of the road standing on her toes to get a better view of the road down to her right.

“I think we’re good,” she called out, her voice soft like a whisper but loud enough to hear in the quiet of the night. “Let’s—”

A car horn blared to his left, making Jo jump and whirl around to find the source of the noise. Dean slid further into the cover of the trees, trying to figure out how to help her.

“Is that Jo Harvelle?” Meg’s voice rang out, clear as a bell. “We’ve been looking for you all damn night!”

The car presumably pulled to a stop, and Dean could hear the rumble of the engine just on the other side of the clump of trees, currently the only thing between him and his potential captors. Jo kept her eyes forward, slowly inching backwards down the street step by step. Her eyes flashed over to where Dean was hiding in the trees, but she never turned or gave him away in any way.

“Oh yeah?” she called back, a big smile on her face. “Come and get me then.”

She took off running, and Dean heard a car door slam as Meg hopped out and took off after her. The car lingered for a minute or two, and Dean caught snippets of conversations happening inside it.

…Cas got two…forty minutes…pick them up over on Kasold…perimeter on 6th…thirty left…

He gathered from what he could hear that Cas wasn’t with them at the moment, which was nothing less than a godsend for Dean. Cas absolutely would've gotten out and looked for him, while the others didn't seem to even suspect his presence. The car took off after that, leaving Dean nestled alone in the trees. He got across Billings quickly, sprinting as fast as he could towards Wakarusa and the cover of trees there.

Unsurprisingly, he got a text from Cas a few minutes later.

Cas: Meg found a little blonde way over on billings. your options are running out……….

Cas was right, of course. From here his options were limited, if he didn’t want to loop all the way back towards Kasold. He had fully expected Cas to figure his plan out, just maybe not so soon. Now he had to cross 6th, and Cas knew exactly where he was going to do it.

When he got to the corner there was, essentially, nowhere to hide. Dean panicked for a moment until he realized, strangely enough, that he didn't need to hide. The street was empty and quiet, save the chattering of bugs. In fact, all of Wakarusa was empty and quiet. No sign of Cas, or any other riders. It should’ve made him relax, but he felt twitchier than ever. This was far too easy.

He stayed on Wakarusa until he was next to the baseball field, hopping the fence and crossing the huge field in the direction of the stadium. He could see the bleachers up ahead of him, the lack of lighting bathing the field in light, summer darkness.

“I thought you’d never get here.”

Dean whirled around, spotting Cas who was sitting with his legs stretched out on the pitcher’s mound. He froze, all too aware of the space between them. The distance between the pitcher’s mound and the outfield was not insignificant, but Cas was fast.

“How, um, how did y-you…uh, how long…?”

Cas smirked at him, far too pleased with himself.

“Baby I know how your brain works. Mmmm,” he hummed happily, closing his eyes and licking his lips obscenely. “I’ve always wanted a blow job on school property. Under the bleachers, it’s like a dream come true.”

Dean’s cheeks burned, and he could only imagine how red they must’ve been. Hell no. He wasn’t going out that easy.

“You gotta catch me first.”

Dean took off, not sparing a second to see how Cas reacted. He sprinted the remaining distance across the field, launching himself over the fence as fast as he could. He pulled a sharp right, aiming for the stadium entrance. He had no clue how close Cas was behind him, but he didn’t dare look. His lungs were burning, and he realized belatedly that he was actually laughing. When his feet hit the red track he heard Cas’ steps dangerously close behind him, so he cut sharply to the side in a zig-zag pattern to throw him off.

“Fuck,” he heard Cas growl behind him, laughter in his voice. “You slippery little shit!”

Center field got closer and closer. 20 yards. 10 yards. 5 yards. 2 yards. Dean slid, feeling Cas’ fingers in his arm as he did so. They ended up in a pile at center field, laughing and panting and fighting over who won.

“I got here first!”

“Yeah, after I fucking tagged you!”
“You tagged me after I got here!”

“Hell no, before. Instant replay that shit!”

“No way. I was fucking here first game over.”

“Just shut up and suck my dick we know who really won.”

Dean burst out laughing, the dirty grin on Cas’ face too much for him to handle.

“You are such an asshole.”

Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, rolling and squirming until he had Dean pinned beneath him. He was breathing hard still, his black paint smeared and beads of sweat on his forehead.

“You love me,” he smirked, the brightness in his blue eyes completely contagious.

“Fuck me, I do.”

Cas leaned down and kissed him, hard and packed with adrenaline and too much testosterone. They fought for control of the kiss, each one trying to subdue the other. Neither of them won, and that was Dean’s favorite part.

There was a chorus of cheers and clapping from the side of the field, some people whistling and some people yelling for them to “get a room!”. Cas pulled back, leaving Dean blushing and hyperaware of the fact that Cas was straddling him. Cas stared down at him for no more than two seconds before he was kissing him again, hot and claiming and shoving everything else out of Dean’s mind.

“Keep blushing and I will rip your clothes off right here, I fucking swear to God.”

This, of course, only made him blush more. Cas growled low in his throat and stood up, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.

“We have a winner!” he gestured down at Dean, who was still sitting on the ground. His legs felt like jelly, so this seemed like the safe option.

Dean spotted Jo and Benny cheering particularly loudly for his victory. He waved his arms in the air, grinning and feeling generally shocked at himself.

“Now get the fuck out of here!” Cas yelled, making the whole crowd laugh. “I owe him a reward.”

He winked toward the crowd, making them all cheer and whistle and scream again. He dragged Dean to his feet and led him away, towards the bleachers on the other side of the field.

“Seriously, Cas?”

His face was burning, conscious of the fact that everyone knew what they were doing.

“What?” he smirked, seemingly unconcerned. “It’s not like they don’t already know we’re fucking. Also you have black shit all over your face.”

Dean was pissed, but only long enough for Cas to get him under the bleachers and get his pants down to his ankles. When Cas got down on his knees and his tongue traced a stripe from the base of his dick to the very tip where he placed a wet kiss, Dean forgot all about being angry, and all about how ridiculous he probably looked with paint on his face.

Cas started off slow, his lips wrapping around Dean’s cock and his eye’s keeping contact with Dean’s. His nails raked down Dean’s thighs, digging softly into his skin. Dean moaned quietly, digging his fingers into Cas’ hair and gently tugging him closer. Cas moaned, the vibration driving Dean wild. His hips twitched forward, burying his dick deeper into Cas’ mouth and earning an appreciative moan from Cas. His eyes lit up, pupils expanding, and damn if that didn’t drive Dean crazy.

He couldn’t think about anything except for how fucking incredible Cas’ mouth felt wrapped around him, his eyes completely unable to look away from his cock sliding in and out of Cas’ pink lips. Cas moaned around his cock, his movements getting faster and faster.

Dean moaned loudly, completely unashamed because fuck. He could feel Cas’ moans, all of it pulling him right to the edge.

“Castiel, holy fuck, Cas Cas Cas—“

His entire body felt like it exploded. He was completely numb, except for the heat of Cas’ mouth. He had to quite literally hold himself up, using the steel pole against his back so that he wouldn’t collapse. Cas moaned quietly as he swallowed, and Dean felt like he could’ve come from that alone if it was physically possible.

He let his legs give out, crumpling into a puddle next to Cas after he pulled Dean’s pants back up. Dean drew him in for a kiss, pulling Cas onto his lap. He loved the way he tasted like Cas, but he also tasted like Dean. He kissed down Cas’ neck, nuzzling the spot beneath his ear and spending a few minutes sucking a dark hickey into the skin there.

“You’re killing me,” Cas sighed, feigning annoyance. Dean knew from experience that spot was impossible to hide, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Mine,” he growled, feeling sort of drunk on Cas. He probably sounded stupid, but his brain was scattered and all he could think was Cas Cas Cas.

Cas huffed a small laugh, kissing Dean in a possessive sort of way. He nipped lightly at Dean’s bottom lip, tugging with his teeth.

“Mine.”

Chapter Text

Dean inhaled deeply, letting the smell of Cas saturate his bones. Waking up next to him, his arms wound around Cas’ waist, legs tangled together, nose buried against the back of his neck, Dean’s body curled around Cas’ in some sort of instinctive need to protect, it was Dean’s favorite thing in the world. If he got to wake up next to Cas every day for the rest of his life, it probably wouldn’t be enough.

Cas stirred a little bit, humming and wiggling back so he was pressed tighter against Dean. Dean tightened his arms, hearing Cas sigh happily.

“Shhh,” Dean whispered against his neck, letting his lips linger on Cas’ skin. “Sleep.”

Cas took one more heavy breath, then his chest started to rise and fall at a slow and steady pace. Dean closed his eyes and tried to find sleep again, but it didn’t want to come. His body was most definitely awake, and he was starting to have to pee pretty badly. He held out as long as he could before he climbed out of bed, carefully extricating himself so as not to wake Cas. It mostly worked, but Cas still automatically rolled over towards the now-empty space in the bed, curling up in what was left of Dean’s warmth.

Dean felt his lips twitch up, thinking just how far gone he really was.

He grabbed Cas’ laptop off of his desk and crept downstairs, not wanting to wake Cas with his typing. He was supposed to register for classes pretty soon, and he had every intention of picking out the perfect ones. He sat in the corner of the couch with the laptop on his lap, spending a few minutes getting familiar with the website and trying to figure out how to navigate it.

He’d need to take math, and he would probably start with Calculus I for good measure. He would need some type of english course, and either a science or a language. Then there were the social sciences, none of which sounded terribly appealing but were necessary. He wanted to get started on some education courses too, but maybe that would be something to start in a later term. He was browsing possible social science classes when he heard the soft sounds of Cas’ feet on the floor.

“There you are,” Cas mumbled, moving the laptop out of the way and climbing onto Dean’s lap. He leaned his back against the arm of the couch, stretching his feet out and burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Good morning to you,” Dean smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and mussing his already sleep-crazed hair.

“Not morning yet. Too early.”

Dean laughed, never-endingly amused by what Cas did and didn’t consider to be “morning”.

“Why are you up then? Go sleep.”

“You weren’t there.”

Dean blushed, feeling a little bit guilty for getting up. 


“You’re needy this morning.”

“Shut up,” Cas growled, moving to scratch his face on Dean’s shirt before nuzzling back into his neck. “I don’t get to have this for much longer.”

There was an awkward beat of silence while they both processed what he said. Dean bounced back first, choosing to ignore it rather than to actually let it sink in.

“And you’re especially cat-like this morning.”

Cas was always sort of cat-like when he was sleepy, but the face-scratching always accentuated it.

“You could just tell me I’m adorable. What’re you doing?”

“Looking up classes. Wanna help?”

Dean felt Cas’ shoulders tense, but to his credit he managed to look excited when he pulled back to catch Dean’s eye.

“Sure. Options?”

“Well,” Dean started, grabbing the laptop with the hand that wasn’t lazily massaging Cas’ neck. “There’s World Archaeology, and World Cultures. Both Anthropology.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“Sexuality and Culture?”

“Better. Keep going.”

Cas pressed a kiss to his neck, just underneath his ear, making Dean sigh happily.

“Intro to Business, but I think no.”

“Definitely no.”

“Um,” Dean skimmed down, skipping some of the dryer looking ones. “Western Civilization, Women in World History.”

“I’m literally going to fall back asleep right now just listening to the names of the classes.”

“Don’t act like history doesn’t rev your engines.”

“Mmmm,” Cas practically purred, scraping his teeth along Dean’s jawline. “You’re right. Tell me more.”

“Islamic civilizations?”

“Please.”

“Foundations of Eastern Asian Civilization?”

“God, yes.”

“War in the Modern World?”

“Fuck, Dean.”

“Late Middle Ages Europe?”

“Fuck yes yes yes—”

“Alright alright,” Dean laughed, stopping him when Cas’ dramatically fake moans started bordering on pornographic. “Hands to yourself.”

Cas pulled his hands out from under Dean’s shirt, chuckling quietly to himself. He tugged lightly on Dean’s jaw, turning his face so he could kiss him properly. Dean savored the warmth of his mouth for a few moments before he turned away, not trusting his self-control.

“Let’s see. Oh um, Ed Studies. Educational Issues and Problems.”

“Sounds like your kind of thing.”

Dean hummed in response, saving the class number so he’d have it for registration day. They went through and picked out two more classes, Intro to Comparative Literature and an Anthropology course called Monkeys and Apes.

It felt easy and natural, and Dean found himself making more than a couple of comments about a future that they didn’t have. Like “I’ll let you know how it goes” and “I bet you five bucks that professor has an accent.”

Cas always played along, either because he felt bad or because, like Dean, he didn’t realize they were even doing it. That they were planning ahead, together.

“My turn,” Cas snatched the laptop, spinning it so that it was facing him. He pulled up a simple world map, showing just countries and major cities.

“For?”

“Trying to plan my trip. Most of it will be, you know, making it up as I go. But I want to have an idea.”

Dean nodded, his chest constricting at the idea of Cas being so far away.

“Where have you decided already?”

“Amsterdam, obviously. Berlin, Munich, Would love to make it to Zurich. Interlaken, too, depending on the time of year.”

“What about London? Glasgow? Dublin?”

Cas hummed, making note of the additional places.

“Probably Madrid and Barcelona too, Sevilla if I can swing it.”

“There’s Venice,” Dean added, pointing at the screen. “Naples, Rome?”

“I’d love to get over to Morocco, too.”

“Oh, Athens, and Istanbul.”

“Prague? Maybe Stockholm?”

The list grew and grew, and Dean found himself almost wishing that he could go with Cas on this crazy adventure.

“There’s no way you hit all these places in under, like, five years.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Cas laughed, shutting the laptop and setting it on the floor. He turned his body toward Dean, running a hand through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “I’ll have to let you know how I do.”

There it was again. Cas’ smile faded as soon as he said it, like he immediately wished he could take it back. Dean tried his best to smile back, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Cas kissed him softly, tugging gently on Dean’s bottom lip.

“Let’s go back to bed. I’m still tired.”

Dean laughed quietly, but it didn’t sound like an entirely bad idea. So he followed Cas upstairs and they climbed back into his bed, winding their bodies together and pulling his big comforter over them like a shield.

Lips and hands wandered everywhere; they dozed off and they woke up and they talked about whatever came to mind and they dozed off again. They hid themselves away from real life, from real problems, from the very real fact that in seven days, Dean was going to leave and Cas wasn't going to follow.

Chapter Text

And all too soon it was the last day. Dean somehow expected it to feel different. To feel final, in some way.

It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Birds were chirping outside his window, the sun was shining, Mary was probably cooking something for breakfast, Sam was probably reading something nerdy in the living room, John was probably out in the garage.

Dean glanced around at his room, virtually bare. All of his posters packed, his pictures stowed in a box, his clothes in his duffel, his desk empty. It was plain, like no one really lived there anymore. He smiled softly at the white walls. It reminded him of Cas’ room, of that first morning when he tried to sneak out. How things might have been different if Cas had been a heavier sleeper.

He heaved a heavy sigh, shoving away the crushing ache in his chest. Not now. It was too early for that kind of thing. Now was the time for a shower.

“Big day!” his mom smiled warmly when he eventually made his way downstairs and entered the kitchen, her eyes misty with tears. He just hugged her silently. He had a pretty good idea what she was feeling, and words weren’t going to help. “Do you have plans?”

“Um, gonna go see Cas,” he rubbed the back of his head, his hair still damp from the shower. “I don’t really know...”

He didn’t know what he was trying to say, but she seemed to understand.

“Go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to your brother.”

He hugged Sam a little bit tighter, a little bit longer than he needed to, but the fifteen-year-old didn’t seem to mind.

Dean felt, almost, unnecessarily nervous when he got to Cas’ house. But then seeing Cas’ face, his nervousness didn't feel quite so unwarranted. His blue eyes looked tired and dull, dark bruises under them that Dean hadn’t seen in what felt like years.

“Um, hey,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. It was like he forgot how to act, how to even speak around Cas.

Cas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, mumbling into his ear.

“Hi.”

He ran a hand up Dean’s neck, scratching circles on his scalp. Dean heard Cas start to hum quietly, and he couldn’t help but smile in a sad sort of way. His brain jumped straight to I’m gonna miss that, but he ignored it.

Cas let him go after a few minutes, and maybe Dean was a little bit bummed about that. He started to walk inside, sort of mumbling over his shoulder.

“Movie?”

“Cas?”

Cas paused in the doorway, halfway between in and out. He didn’t say anything, just cocked his head slightly to the side.

“You, um, you okay? You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Cas smirked at him, and Dean almost felt stupid for asking. Dean certainly wasn’t okay, Cas probably wasn’t either.

“I’m peachy. Just a couple of bad nights.”

He wandered inside and Dean followed, still feeling mildly unsettled.

They decided on watching Lord of the Rings, the third one because it ended up being Cas’ favorite despite Dean’s best efforts to convince him otherwise. They’d both seen it more than once by then, but then neither of them was really paying that close attention. It was just background noise.

Dean kept his head tucked under Cas’ chin for the majority of the movie, listening to his heartbeat and trying to memorize the smell of him. Cas continued to hum, stroking Dean’s hair and pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead every once in a while.

“Are you excited?”

“Um, I guess?”

It felt surprisingly awkward to talk, like neither one of them really knew what to say. Like there almost wasn’t anything to say. There had always been this invisible next time. Dean could ask if Cas wanted to try out that new burger place tomorrow, or if he wanted to drive out to the lake on Thursday. He could tell him to come over Saturday night because his parents would be gone, or beg him to watch Star Wars even though Dean knew that Cas secretly loved them.

Now there was just…this. The end. They didn’t talk about Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or Spring Break, or next summer, or if either of them would even come back to Lawrence. Maybe they were cowards, and maybe they didn’t want to make promises they weren’t sure they could keep.

“Not a very good attitude, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean just grabbed Cas’ free hand and laced their fingers together, like that would make him not disappear.

“My roommate seems like a nerd.”

“You’re a nerd, so you two should get along fine.”

“Asshole.”

Cas chuckled, pressing a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

“What’s his name?”

“Um, Garth? I think. Something weird.”

“Maybe you guys will hit it off. Guys with weird names could be your thing.”

“Really?” he sat up and pulled away, thoroughly annoyed by Cas’ completely blasé tone. He stared down at his feet, focusing on releasing the tension in his chest and ignoring the pressure of Cas’ foot against his leg. “Really?”

“Dean, come on. It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Dean snapped back, surprised at the bite of his own voice.

He felt Cas move next to him, and then the other boy was on his lap with one leg on either side of Dean’s thighs. Cas ran a hand through Dean’s hair, tugging lightly to tilt his head up. Dean met his eyes, still unhappy about the dark shadows underneath them.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Dean reached out a hand and brushed the dark strands of hair off of Cas’ forehead, pulling him down for a slow kiss. The movie was forgotten, everything else fading away except for the feel of Cas. They were clinging to each other, and for the moment Dean didn’t even care. It felt like every second that passed Cas got farther away, like something was ripping him from Dean’s arms and no matter how tight he held on he couldn’t hold tight enough.

At some point, Dean wasn’t really sure how long it’d been, he shifted off the couch. Cas wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips, Dean’s hands settling on his butt. He carried him easily up the stairs, painfully familiar with the route by now. He laid down carefully on the bed, settling his weight on top of Cas’ body. His lips found their way to Cas’ neck, his hands sliding the thin t-shirt off of his torso.

Both of their movements were slow, measured, and entirely too rough. Scratches, teeth marks, hickeys, fingers gripping so tight that they would surely leave bruises. Neither of them cared. Dean, at least, needed the marks, reminders that Cas had been real, that there had been good before the bad. He needed the memories of the taste of his skin, his intoxicating smell, the brush of his hair.

Their clothes just sort of disappeared, Dean wasn’t really sure when. Piece by piece he got more of Cas’ skin, more contact. He was vaguely aware of his mouth mumbling words, of Cas whispering in his ears, but none of it meant anything.

And then Cas was splitting him open, filling him up until he thought he might burst at the seams. It was slow, so slow, so torturously, incredibly, magnificently slow. Their bodies moved with the sort of ease that came only from experience, from each of them knowing the other in the most excruciatingly intimate of ways. It was so good, and so bad, and Dean couldn’t figure out if he wanted to scream in pleasure or pain.

If he had thought about it at the time, if he had actually taken a second to process it all, he might have called it making love. But that wasn’t them. What they had wasn’t sappy love songs and looking up at the stars, making love on their last night together. It was drunkenly singing Seal and watching sci-fi movies, leaving hickeys in obvious places and pissing each other off. It was sarcasm and smirks and this wrenching pain that consumed it all.

They got dressed afterwards, which was maybe unusual for them. Dean tried not to think too much about it, about how utterly exposed and raw he’d felt with nothing on. Cas at least seemed to agree. They settled on Cas’ bed, lying on their sides and letting their eyes wander.

The clock continued to tick away, and they both pretended like they couldn’t feel their time running out second by second.

After some time Cas kissed him, a soft brush of lips that held every desperate plea on the tip of Cas’ tongue. Dean raised his hands, cupping Cas’ jaw and running a thumb along his cheek. One of them was shaking. Maybe both.

“Dean,” Cas sighed, resting his forehead on Dean’s.

Dean wished he knew what to say. A million scenarios ran through his head, a million ways to make this hurt less. To chase that dark sadness out of the depth of Cas’ blue eyes.

They laid in silence for a while, the air of Cas’ room thick with all of the stolen moments they would never get to have together. Dean knew it was late, that their hourglass had run out hours ago. His chest felt like it was going to rip itself open at any moment, because that pain would be less than what he was feeling now.

He couldn’t say goodbye to Cas. There was no version of the word that didn’t sound like “Have a nice life. See you never.” He refused to accept that truth. There was no way that this was it for them. They deserved so much more.

“Please don’t leave,” Cas whispered, his voice on the edge of breaking. “Stay with me. For the whole day. For all of Sunday. For all of Monday.”

“All damn week,” Dean barely managed. Cas smiled weakly.

Dean wanted to look away, the raw emotion in his blue eyes too much to take in. But he didn’t dare. Because this was Cas, and these were their last moments together.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He was shocked at the strength of his own voice this time, that he didn’t crack or stutter. Cas shut his eyes again slowly, his shoulders pulling upwards as he retreated into himself.

“I know. I know.”

More silence. Dean broke it this time, unable to bear one more second of the resignation etched into the lines of Cas’ face, the desperation in his fingers against Dean’s back. He had to try. One more time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he started, all the possibilities unfurling in his mind.

“Dean, I can hear you thinking. We’ve talked about this,” This was supposed to be it, no dragging it out. But now, suddenly, it sounded like a very bad idea. “Just, let it be.”

“But this doesn’t have to be the end. We can do the long-distance thing, I don’t even care. We could make it work. We could—”

“And what do you honestly expect to happen?” Cas interrupted, a shocked sort of look on his face. His eyes were open now, filled with confusion and, surprisingly enough, a hurt sort of anger. “What do you think, that we’ll suffer while we’re away and have magical weekends filled with I-missed-you-sex until one day we can be reunited? Have our happily ever after?”

His voice was calm, quiet, but Dean knew the movements of his face and the cadence of his voice well enough to know that there was so much more going on. He wasn’t calm, or quiet. He was tired, and that worried Dean more than anything.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything. I’m being honest with you about this. For the first fucking time I’m being honest. Sue me.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole about it. And don’t act like it’s never been done before. You just have to, I don’t know, you just have to want it.”

Cas actually laughed at that, the sound ringing bitter and sour in Dean’s ears.

“No.”

The word hit Dean like a punch to the gut, like a crushing, ice cold grip on his heart.

“What?”

“I said, no.”

Cas pulled completely away from him abruptly, standing up with his back to Dean. He ran his hands through his hair furiously, pulling it in different directions. Something inside of Dean’s brain screamed at him to stop, to backtrack right now. He could feel everything spinning out of control, and he wanted it to stop. But he couldn’t. Maybe if he just got through to him, maybe if he could convince him—

“Why couldn’t you just leave it? Why couldn’t you just walk away and leave me behind? You just had to push it.”

“Why?” Dean asked, but Cas didn’t answer, didn’t turn back around. “You’re gonna ask me, why? I’m trying to fix this while you just do nothing. Why? How about why won’t you fucking try?”

Anger rose in Dean’s voice, Cas’ words burning in his mind. With every word he tried to calm down, tried to shove his anger away for some other time. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This night wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Stop. Leave it. Stop stop stop.

“Try what, Dean?” Cas snapped, spinning around to face him. “What in the hell should I do here? Write you a fucking email once a week and call it a relationship? Stay with you until you grow into someone that I don’t even know anymore? Until you start to resent me? Until we resent each other? We’re fucking eighteen years old, Dean. I won’t do that to you. But don’t you dare say I don’t want to fucking try. Don’t you dare.”

“Resent you? Resent you for what?”

Dean could feel his skin heating up, his hands clenched into angry fists. The air in the room felt heavy, like he couldn’t really inhale properly.

“For everything!” Cas started to yell, but his voice broke in the middle and Dean flinched at the sound. His voice dropped down just above a whisper, the desperation and complete abandon tearing Dean apart piece by piece. “For all of the things I can’t do with you, for the moments I can’t be there with you. For the nights your roommate goes to bed with his girlfriend and your bed is empty. For all the times at parties when some hot senior asks if you’re there alone and you have to say yes. I won’t do it.”

“That’s not your decision to make for me, Cas,” Dean tried to move closer, and he took the fact that Cas didn’t immediately move away as a pretty good sign. He spoke softly, anger still boiling under his skin but knowing that he didn’t need it, not right now. “Just let me try.”

Cas kissed him hard, his hands pulling almost painfully on Dean’s short hair. All of his words were stolen out of his mouth as he clung to Cas, needing those hands to never let him go. Cas’ lips were begging him, don’t leave me, don’t leave me and all Dean could offer in return was I have to.

Then it was over as quickly as it began, and Cas was very suddenly in the other corner of the room, as if he couldn’t get far enough away. As if the physical distance between them would protect him.

“I won’t do it,” Cas mumbled, barely audible.

Dean tried to move towards him but he held up a hand, refusing to even turn and look Dean in the face. He stayed facing the wall in front of him, shoulders hunched forward and his head hanging down.

“This isn’t a fucking romance movie where everything works out because you’re in love. None of it matters because no matter how right this is, it isn’t right now. I can’t, I—you should just go.”

His heart stopped.

“Don’t push me away. Not now.”

Dean heard the desperation in his own voice, wished that he knew how to hide it better, wished he could hold it together.

“Dean…”

Cas’ voice was nothing more than a weak whisper, and Dean hated it.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

He felt anger taking over, and he didn’t try to stop it this time.

“I’m sorry. I have to.”

Dean felt, again, an incredible pain in his chest. Perhaps this time his heart had been removed, stomped on and sliced to bits, and then shoved, bloody, back into his body. But then that didn’t sound painful enough.

“You’re not fucking sorry, Cas! You’re doing this, you’re pushing me away. This is on you.”

Cas ran two angry hands through his hair, his knuckles fading white, tension curling his shoulders forward.

“Please.”

His voice was broken. So much more broken than Dean had ever heard him.

“Cas?” he whispered, taking a step towards him. But Cas flinched away, and that hurt almost more than his words.

“Please stop.”

“You don’t get to walk in and out of my life,” Dean whispered, his voice shaking with hurt and anger. Everything was crashing around him, everything that Cas had ever told him, every moment they had ever had, everything he used to think he knew about them. None of it was true. “I leave right now, and that’s it.”

“Just. Go.”

His shoulders were shaking, but Dean couldn’t find an ounce of pity in his body. Cas had said he loved him, said he cared about him, said he mattered to him, and they were all fucking lies.

The anger melted out of his body, nothing left but a deep, tearing sort of heartbreak. His stomach twisted in on itself, and Dean was sure he was going to throw up.

“I sincerely hope you find somebody. And I hope you don’t shove them out the door.”

Dean spun around and left as quickly as he could, knowing that he would lose his nerve if he didn’t. Cas never turned around or said a single thing.

Not when Dean left the room.

Not when Dean left his house.

Not when Dean turned on the car.

Not when Dean pulled out of the driveway.

But then again, Dean didn’t say anything either. “Goodbye” didn’t feel right.

“See you never” felt right.

Dean just wasn’t entirely sure he could say it out loud.

Part of him expected Cas to show up the next morning. To at least give him that. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. And maybe that was a good thing. Saying goodbye to his mom, his dad, Sam, Jo, it was all too much.

They all made promises to visit, promises to call and text and Skype, promises that nothing would change. He knew that wasn’t true.

The impala rumbled to life beneath his fingers, the familiar grip of the wheel calming his racing heart. He only glanced in the rearview mirror one time as he drove away, studiously ignoring the burning behind his eyes and the clawing, ripping, tearing pain in his chest.

Maybe a clean cut was what he needed anyway.

Chapter Text

About a year later

Dean decided that moving sucked.

Packing boxes, buying crappy furniture off Craigslist, endless trips up and down stairs. Then there was unpacking and getting everything set up and trying to make a shitty, college town apartment with stained carpet and miserably white walls feel like home.

Moving definitely sucked.

“Where’s the big pot? Did we buy a big pot?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, digging around in the piles of bags all around him. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his and Garth’s new apartment, trying valiantly not to get overwhelmed by the amount of stuff scattered everywhere and the amount of money they just spent. He found the pot buried in a bag with paper towels, silverware, and ramen. “Here.”

Garth grabbed the pot out of his hand, gesturing for a packet of ramen. Dean handed him two, grinning and hoping Garth would make him some too.

“Fine but you gotta do somethin’. Can’t sit there like a lump.”

Dean groaned, entirely displeased at the notion of doing work. It was already warm outside and he was tired and kind of hungover and mostly annoyed at how much work they had to do.

“I want a fairy godmother,” he whined, moving some of the bags out of the way so he could flop down on his back. “She could do this shit for me.”

“She ain’t comin’. Up.”

Garth flung a wooden spoon at him from the kitchen, and Dean took that as his final warning. He decided to start with the living room, setting up the small TV on its wooden stand, moving the coffee table to its proper place next to the couch, and flinging some pillows onto their light brown L-couch that looked much flatter than it probably was in its prime.

The big bookshelf came next, the shelves slowly filling with Dean’s favorite books. He didn’t bring all of them from home, but he brought quite a few. He sorted them meticulously according to his favorites, which ones he read most often, because there really wasn’t any other legitimate way to sort books.

“Ramen,” Garth called out, carrying the two bowls into the living room and plopping down on the couch to eat. Dean scurried over, sitting on the floor and blowing gently on the hot broth. “Whatcha doin' tonight, kemosabe?”

Garth wasn’t a partier, which Dean sort of liked about him. Freshman year he never worried about Garth coming home stinking drunk or puking in their dorm trash can, or not coming home at all; something Dean was definitely guilty of. So he never really went out, and somehow managed to at least feign interest in Dean’s social comings and goings.

They coexisted well, and that was mainly why Dean wanted to continue to live with him even after freshman year had ended. Garth was simple, and happy, and uncomplicated. He smiled a lot and did stupid things that always made Dean laugh. He liked living with Garth. Garth was good for him.

“Probably going out with Bela. Big party someplace.”

He slurped his noodles trying not to fling liquid everywhere. Garth wiggled his eyebrows and shook his shoulders, only succeeding in making Dean roll his eyes.

“Not like that.”

“That girl’s balls. I dunno why you don’t snatch her up.”

Dean laughed, as he often did, at Garth’s completely ridiculous use of vocabulary. His relationship with Bela was an interesting one, and he couldn’t really blame Garth for thinking she was interesting. She was beautiful, and fucking smart, and sometimes he liked hanging out with her and sometimes he thought she was a raging bitch.

“You should come tonight, then. Snatch her up yourself.”

Garth laughed in that goofy way of his, completely flustered even at the idea of going. Leave it to Dean to befriend the only person on Earth who got more flustered than he did.

“No way. I work in the morning.”

Dean hummed, but before he could respond there was a loud knocking on the door. They looked at each other, both of them waiting for the other to explain.

“You expectin’ someone?” Garth asked, craning his neck to peek towards the front door.

“Nope.”

Dean stood up and made his way towards the door, cracking it open slowly.

“Surprise!”

A familiar blonde was standing outside his door, grinning up at him.

“Holy shit you got taller.”

“That’s what you have to say to me, Joanna Beth?” Dean rushed forward, wrapping her up in a big hug and lifting her off her feet. She squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Stopping by before I go back to BU,” she shrugged, brushing past him into his apartment. “Thought I’d come see my bestie since you decided to be a dick and not come home all summer. Nice place, really well decorated.”

She smiled at him, the bite of sarcasm refreshing in his ear.

“You just fucking got here, Harvelle. Could you be polite for five minutes?”

She laughed and wandered over to the couch, sitting down and stretching her feet out towards Garth.

“I’m Jo. You must be Garth?”

“Nice to meetcha,” he said enthusiastically, extending a hand.

“What are your plans tonight, boys?”

“Dean’s got himself a date with a pretty lady.”

Jo raised her eyebrows and swiveled her head to face him, a satisfied little smile on her face.

“Oh? A date?”

“Not a date,” Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “It’s a party.”

“Good. Then you can bring me with you.”

With Jo’s help, or mostly with her pestering them, Dean and Garth made a significant amount of progress on their new place. Jo didn’t actually do much, aside from telling them when something wasn’t hung straight or saying “that looks stupid there you should put it there”.

At ten o’clock Dean called it quits, satisfied that he at least had a bed to sleep in that night. He took a quick shower and fiddled with his hair for a few minutes while Jo finished getting ready, and then they set off with a bottle of whiskey in hand.

The party was at a big loft, just a handful of blocks away from Dean’s new place. They spent the walk catching up, all of the small stories and little things that they hadn’t bothered to tell each other over text or Skype. Dean realized quickly how much he had really missed her, just being around her in a way that couldn’t be replaced by a phone or a computer.

“You trying to find a date tonight?” Dean winked at her as they approached the front door, a sneaky smile on his face.

“Hell yes,” she smiled back, fluffing her hair and flipping it over her shoulder. “May the force be with you.”

The atmosphere inside the loft was dark and heady, the air heavy with smoke, sweat, perfume, and alcohol. The music was pounding, and Dean felt safe in the familiar atmosphere. It was funny to him that he felt that sense of calm here, a place that a year ago would’ve scared the shit out of him.

But he was different now. Shit changed in a year.

Dean and Jo found shot glasses, getting a solid buzz going right off the bat. They continued to chatter about God knows what, both of their words becoming slurred as more and more whiskey pooled in their stomachs and the shot glasses were forgotten.

“So I was like, bro, I’m a lady, but I can use a fuckin’ knife alright?”

“Don’ grow up with Ellen Harvelle or fuckin’ John Winchester and not know how,” Dean laughed, taking a swig of whiskey and hissing at the burn in his throat.

“God damn fuckin’ right! So then, so then he says somethin’ real like, condescending, like some shit I don’t even ‘member, and I go just take your goddamn Cheerios and you get the fuck out of my mind place you goddamn douche waffle!”

Dean was laughing so hard he could hardly stand up straight. He was 98% sure he had no clue what the fuck just happened in that story, but Jo’s enthusiastic hand-waving was infectious. She just grinned at him and took the bottle out of his hands, taking a drink herself. There was a strange look in her eyes, and it bothered him that he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“Joanna Beth. You’ve been lookin’ at me like I’ve grown two heads all night. The fuck is up.”

Jo giggled, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head.

“Come on,” Dean whined, feeling unsettled by the look in her eyes.

“Dean-o, my Dean-o, you are different,” she sing-songed, swaying from side to side. “Like you seemed different over the phone. But in person you are different.”

“How could I not be?”

It was the truth. He knew he was different. Knew he drank too much, went home with too many people and brought too many home. He just didn’t know how to be that Dean anymore, the one he’d left behind in Lawrence.

“You’re a big tough sophomore. I get it.”

“Not jus’ that,” he smiled. “Y’know what I mean.”

Jo just touched his face affectionately, a small smile on her face.

“I still love you.”

Her words settled the nervousness in his gut, enough that he could shake the rest of it off. Maybe he was different, maybe he had to grow up a little bit. Maybe he had to learn how to see the world for what it was, as opposed to what he wanted it to be.

“There you are. Have you been avoiding me?”

Dean spun around at the sound of Bela’s voice, her light accent easily recognizable.

“Absolutely,” he grinned, earning himself a cold glare. “Bela, my best friend Jo.”

Bela smiled in that dazzling way of hers, flashing perfect white teeth.

“Charmed.”

She threw a glance over her shoulder, where a sizable group of people had started to sway and sing some type of drinking song. Dean shot her a questioning look, and she just rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Leave it to the fraternity men to start the drinking songs. How childish.”

Dean laughed, hardly surprised at Bela’s never-ending snobbery.

“Looks like fun,” Jo smiled eagerly, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clearly itching to go join in.

Bela rolled her eyes dramatically, sighing heavily. “Ugh, go. Have fun being juvenile.”

Dean and Jo hurried over to the circle, catching the end of the song as one very beefy, very drunk frat guy crumpled two empty beer cans in his hands. Before Dean could even figure out what was happening he felt a set of strong hands on his shoulders, dragging him into the middle of the circle as the beefy guy stumbled out of it.

“Name?” a voice whispered in his ear, presumably the owner of the hands.

“Uh, Dean.”

“Dean,” he felt hot breath against his ear, shivering at the way the guy said his name. “When we say drink, you drink.”

“Um, sure. Yeah. Got it.”

The guy spun him around so they were facing each other before backing away to join the rest of the circle. He had a sneaky smirk on his face, which Dean purposefully didn’t think too much about. Jo was laughing at him, obviously enjoying this way too much.

“May I introduce, brother Dean!” the guy yelled, and the entire circle raised their various drinks and cheered.

“Welcome, brother Dean!”

Dean raised his eyebrows, not really sure what to do in this situation. The circle started to sway slightly, singing slurred words that were barely in sync.

“Here’s to brother Dean, brother Dean, brother Dean. Here’s to brother Dean who’s with us tonight!”

Dean laughed, having no clue what was happening but sort of enjoying it all the same. He felt sort of awkward in the spotlight, but no one else seemed to notice.

“He’s happy, he’s horny, he’ll get. Fucked. By. Morning! Here’s to brother Dean who’s with us tonight!

So drink motherfucker! Drink motherfucker! Drink motherfucker! Drink!

Drink motherfucker! Drink motherfucker! Drink motherfucker! Drink!”

Dean put the bottle of whiskey to his lips and drank, barely taking a second to think that maybe he should’ve played this game with beer. When they finished singing and started cheering he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, squinting his eyes and trying his best to keep down the liquid that was trying to crawl back up his throat. He swayed slightly on his feet but he felt okay, so he considered that a success.

The guy from before walked up to him and slung an arm around his shoulders, guiding him out of the circle.

“Tell me you’re here alone.”

Dean lazily turned his head, searching for Jo in the crowd. He spotted her standing in very close proximity to a dark haired guy that looked like he was trying to convince her to try out the dance floor. She glanced over at Dean and winked, giving him a small wave before she walked away with him. Dean laughed, shaking his head at the self-satisfied grin on her face.

“I am.”

When some hot senior asks if you’re there alone and you have to say yes.

Fuck. He thought to himself. Not now. Dean turned to size the guy up, more or less pleased with what he saw. Relatively light skin, light hair, brownish eyes. Dean didn’t often go for guys, but this might work out. Might, if his brain decided to stop being an asshole.

“Fantastic. I’m Alastair.”

Guys with weird names could be your thing.

Dean physically shook his head this time, like he was trying to shake the words out of his brain. Not. Now.

“Tha’s a fuckin’ weird name, man.”

“You can call me Al,” he smiled back, something odd in the smoothness of his voice that made Dean’s skin crawl. “So nice to meet you.”

They stood and talked for a while, but Dean found the entire thing to be tedious. He wasn’t interested in get to know you questions because he wasn't interested in getting to know you. He was trying to scratch an itch, that was it.

If you were gone by morning, that was even better.

It didn’t take much for Dean to get Al out of the loft and walking towards his place. Or maybe it was the other way around. He wasn’t really sure. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. He kind of chuckled to himself about his extreme early departure, but whatever. More sleep for him.

Dean didn’t bring guys home often, but when he did, he never bottomed. It felt too exposed, too raw, too familiar and wrong all at the same time.

So he brought Al home, he fucked him into his mattress, and afterward he laid in his bed taking pulls from his mostly empty bottle of whiskey. Al pulled a joint out of his jeans and lit up, which Dean thought was ridiculous but he didn’t say anything.

They sat next to each other in silence for a few minutes after getting cleaned up, slipping on underwear but nothing else.

“That was fun,” Al grinned wickedly, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye. “I’d say let’s do it again sometime, but I gather that’s not your style.”

Dean just hummed and took a long drag from his bottle, relishing the burning sensation of the whiskey running down his throat. The first few drinks always conjured up some unwelcome memories, but a few more pulls always solved that issue. At this point in the night, he barely remembered that there were memories worth forgetting.

Al blew a cloud of smoke in Dean’s face, making his nose screw up and a small cough crawl up his throat. This, of course, just made him laugh.

“You are a work of art.”

Dean huffed a small laugh at that, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He’d grown into himself in the last year, filling out broad shoulders, strong muscles and long legs. His cheeks had slimmed down, the sharp lines of his jaw becoming more defined. He tended to have more stubble too, mostly just out of laziness. He didn’t think he looked pretty anymore, or really ever, but everyone else seemed to disagree.

“You’ve quite the flair for drama,” Dean mumbled, his words still sounding slightly slurred.

“I just appreciate beauty when I see it.”

Dean rolled his eyes and set the bottle down, laying down flat on his stomach and giving Al space on his side of the bed. He sort of wanted him to leave before his smell embedded itself into Dean’s memory foam mattress, but it was probably bad form to ask him to do so.

They didn’t sleep cuddled together, and they only ever barely touched accidentally. Dean didn’t even sleep under the comforter with him. There was a very clear line between them, and neither of them had any desire to cross it. Just how Dean liked it.

Dean dreamt of blue eyes.

Blue eyes, messy dark hair, soft fingers against his skin, nails scratching at his neck and scalp. A cocky smirk, a spark in those eyes. He dreamt of tangled limbs and heated kisses, lips brushing across his jaw and the scrape of teeth on his skin.

It was funny how he couldn’t remember his voice, not anymore. It somehow surprised him that it only took a year, and somehow didn’t surprise him at all. That had been the third thing to go. First were the bites and scratches and bruises, and he was fucking thankful when they finally disappeared. Next was his smell. It didn’t cling to his skin or his clothes and his brain refused to remember it. Then was his voice. In his dreams he would whisper I love you, until Dean forgot what that sounded like. And then the dreams got worse.

On more than one occasion he woke up panting and on the verge of tears. Every time it felt like his heart was shattering into a million pieces. The pain in his chest so visceral and real and completely unstoppable.

Those blue eyes would turn on him, dark and sad, dark bruises underneath them. He flinched away anytime Dean got close, the words “just go” blaring through his mind. He couldn't hear them anymore, but they hurt all the same.

Just. Go.

That was how he woke up that morning, sweat covering his skin and his heart racing in his chest. He patted the bed around him, trying to strip away the layers of the dream that clung to him like wax on his skin. It had been a while since he’d had a dream like that, and it shook him more than he liked to admit. He hated how weak he was, how fucked up and hurt and angry he still felt. He should be over it. He wanted to be over it. He wanted it to fucking stop. And every time he thought that was it, that was the last dream, it would happen again. Worse, every time.

Al stirred next to him, quickly noticing Dean’s distressed state. Dean cursed himself for letting him stay, for giving him the opportunity to see him like this. Thank God he didn’t say anything though, just raised an eyebrow and climbed out of bed.

“I’ll get it then,” he mumbled grumpily, snatching a shirt off the floor and throwing it on. He still only had on boxer briefs, but the t-shirt was something. He wandered out of Dean’s room, his hand rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

It wasn’t until right then that Dean noticed the pounding on the door. It was probably, in all likelihood just Jo coming home from last night, but then he definitely remembered giving her a spare key so that didn’t really make sense. Garth was already at work, so Dean assumed it was UPS or something like that.

He listened to the rumble of Al’s voice as the door opened, the conversation carrying on for a couple of minutes before the door closed and Al returned.

“Who’s that?” Dean mumbled, belatedly noticing that Al was wearing his Metallica t-shirt.

“Somebody looking for you.”

Dean perked up, interested to know who this person was.

“They give a name?”

Al shook his head, pulling on his jeans and swapping out Dean’s t-shirt for his own.

“I told him you were indisposed. So he took off.”

Dean hummed and laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He vaguely wondered who it was, but he was too hungover to care much. His mind wandered to all of the unpacking he still had to do, and whether or not he could scrap together something greasy for breakfast. Maybe he would just go find Jo and take her to a crappy diner. That sounded good.

Al didn’t really say bye, just sort of gathered himself and wandered out the front door. Dean was sort of grateful for that, for not having to deal with any awkwardness. In hindsight, he was pretty sure they hadn’t even kissed the night before. Maybe that should have been concerning to him, but it wasn’t exactly the first time it had happened so he brushed it off like he always did.

Dean fumbled around on his nightstand for a second until he got his hands on his phone. When he unlocked it he noticed that Al had entered in his number, just an asterisk instead of a name. Dean rolled his eyes, guessing he had done it after Dean had passed out the night before. In any case it didn’t really matter to him; it wasn’t like he would be needing it. He quickly dialed Jo’s cell, hoping it hadn’t died over night.

“Hello?”

Her voiced sounded groggy, like she wasn’t quite awake yet.

“Morning sunshine. You alive?”

“Ish. What do you want.”

“You know where you are?”

“Hold on,” she groaned, and he heard her talk briefly with someone else at the other end of the line. She rattled off an address, and Dean quickly mapped out a route in his head.

“Kay. Be there soon. Put some clothes on.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughed and hung up the phone, dragging himself out of bed and throwing on worn jeans and the black Metallica shirt Al had been wearing a few minutes earlier. He probably looked like shit anyways, so why not dress the part? Dean locked the door and jogged down the three flights of stairs, walking around the building to where his car was parked on the street. He stared down at his phone as he walked, shooting a quick text to Garth asking when he’d be coming home. He only glanced up when he hit the sidewalk, a couple of feet from the curb.

As soon as he caught sight of the shining black car, he froze.

“Hello, Dean.”

Chapter Text

If someone had warned him that Cas was going to show up, on his car, he might have tried to come up with something better to say. “Fuck you” seemed fitting, as did a punch to the face and absolute silence. As it were, he just took the first words that came to mind.

“Get the fuck off my car.”

Cas just smirked, leaning back on his hands and making no moves to stand up. Dean’s face was burning, and he was absolutely raging with some unknown mixture of emotions. Cas was fucking smirking at him, like absolutely nothing had happened. Like they were fucking high-schoolers in the parking lot all over again.

But then that wasn’t right. Cas wasn’t the same. He was thinner, for sure, maybe a little bit taller. He sat straighter, with thinly defined muscles running up his arms. His hair was crazy as shit, as usual, and maybe a little bit longer on top. There was scruff on his face, which didn’t look entirely intentional, and his skin looked tanner from the sun. His face had thinned out too, making his cheekbones look more pronounced underneath his big, blue eyes. Dean hadn’t even realized that he had forgotten what color they were, but seeing them now made him realize how flawed his memories were.

His clothes were much nicer, which Dean felt weird about. Like someone had played dress up with him. He had on an untucked white button up, the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Around his neck was a skinny blue tie, loosened enough so that the top few buttons of his shirt could be undone. His black jeans hugged his legs, which Dean studiously didn’t notice.

“I think I’ll pass. You might drive away.”

“Fine. Your fucking funeral,” Dean growled, storming around to the driver’s side door. Cas didn’t move, not even when he turned the key and revved the engine. He slammed his hands on the wheel, running his fingers angrily through his hair.

He should drive away. Let Cas fucking fall on his stupid face. Why should he care? He should drive away. He should definitely drive away. He should definitely 100% drive away.

“Why are you here?” Dean snapped, shutting off the engine and climbing back out of the car.

“Can we talk?”

“No. Are we done?”

Cas huffed a small laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I see college hasn’t deprived you of your sass. But no, we aren’t.”

“That’s great,” Dean said, letting the sarcasm drip from his voice. “But you stopped having a say a long fucking time ago. I say we’re done. Now get. Off. My. Fucking. Car.”

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

“So he just…left?”

“Basically,” Dean picked up a piece of bacon, savoring the greasy flavor that was doing wonders for his stomach.

“And you don’t even wanna know what he was going to say?”

Dean swallowed, staring down at his mostly empty breakfast plate. If only. He wanted to hear what Cas had to say, so badly. The idea made his heart flutter excitedly, a warm, curling sensation in his belly. And that was the problem.

But, of course, he didn’t tell Jo that. He just shrugged, trying to look noncommittal.

“Not really. I don’t need any more of that shit.”

Jo looked at him skeptically, and Dean knew she was seeing straight through him.

“Uh huh.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, jumbled thoughts rolling around in Dean’s head.

“I’m leaving for Boston today,” Jo said quietly, tilting Dean’s chin up with her finger so that he was looking at her. “So I won’t make you do anything. But for what it’s worth, I think you should talk to him. Even just to get some closure. I think you need it.”

Dean tried to smile at her, but he wasn’t really sure it came out that way.

They spent the afternoon wandering around campus, and Dean was probably too excited to show Jo all of his favorite spots. They talked and talked and talked, and Dean wished more than once that she didn't have to go.

He dropped her off at the airport a couple of hours later, hugging her tight and making her promise to call when she got home.

Garth politely asked about his night when he got back to the apartment, and Dean sort of blushed at his question. Garth obviously knew he’d brought someone home. And no matter how many times it happened, it was always sort of weird. Not that Garth would ever tell him that. They both seemed to sort of mutually decide that today was not a day for unpacking, so neither of them made any moves to make progress on their place. Garth lounged around on the couch nursing a beer, and Dean mumbled something about taking a nap before wandering into his room.

He turned on some soft music, needing something to distract his mind from the thoughts racing around his brain. It was helpful that his bed felt absolutely heavenly, even if it did smell a little bit like pot smoke and sex. He dozed off in no time at all, the words of his music settling a deep calm into his bones. It soothed him in a way that he couldn’t find anywhere else, not for a year now.

Load the car and write the note

Grab your bag and grab your coat

Tell the ones that need to know

We are headed north.

Something in his brain tugged at him to think why he liked this song so much, why it instilled such a sense of peace in him. But that sounded like a lot of work. He’d just stumbled upon it one day, and he liked it. That was explanation enough for him.

One foot in one foot back

It don’t pay to live like that

So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks

For never to return.

The song faded into his dream, a dream of warm blue eyes with no dark shadows under them. His cheekbones didn’t look as sharp, barely there stubble on his cheeks. He looked young. So young.

This was his Cas.

“You’re drunk.”

Cas whispered, affection coating his voice. Dean smiled, realizing that he could actually hear his voice again. It was deep and gravelly, and it calmed his twitchy nerves. His fingers ran through Dean’s hair, his nails scratching at his scalp. Dean tightened his grip around Cas’ waist, his chest aching.

He missed this. He missed this so goddamn much.

“I don’t care. You are too. Sing it.”

He spoke like he was reading from a script, somewhere deep in his mind. His voice sounded blurred, like he was trying to talk underwater. Cas still heard him, though. Of course Cas still heard him.

“You won’t remember it.”

“Cas.”

Cas smiled, and he felt himself wishing they could just sleep. Just lay together. Cas looked so tired. He just wanted to hold him while he slept. One more time. Just one more time.

“Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn, take me in. Are you aware the shape I’m in?”

The song floated into his dream, warming him from the inside out.

He gripped tight to the dream, so bitterly aware that none of it was real and so unwilling to let it go. These weren’t dreams that he got to have. He didn’t get to dream of happy times, only the broken one. When he dreamt of Cas, he dreamt of that last night. But this, this was new. He waited for it to twist into something ugly, something painful, but it never did. This moment, something his brain must have conjured up, was pure and perfect.

“My hands they shake my head it spins.”

Cas licked his lips and Dean noticed that it wasn’t just the song floating around like background noise. Cas was singing along. Cas was singing to him.

“Ah Brooklyn Brooklyn, take me in.”

He felt heavy. His body weighed down by something strong and primal.

“Dumbed down and numbed by time and age.”

He focused on the pooling of emotion in Cas’ eyes. He knew that. He knew what they were trying to tell him.

“I love you too,” he tried to say, but his voice wouldn’t work. Cas couldn’t hear him. It wasn’t part of the script.

“Your dreams to catch the world, the cage.”

He tightened his arms again around Cas’ waist, shutting his eyes and focusing on Cas’ voice.

“The highway sets the traveler’s stage.”

He smiled sadly, his heart cracking and taping itself back together. It was almost over. He knew it was almost over. And Cas couldn’t even hear him.

“All exits look the same.”

He felt Cas’ lips brush against his own, desperately wishing he could make it last longer. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t even react.

“Three words that became hard to say.”

Dean mumbled along, all too aware that Cas couldn’t hear him. Cas kept on singing, kept on petting Dean’s head and soothing the aching hole in his chest. He didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to leave this moment. He didn’t want his reality, the one where he wasn’t allowed touches like this anymore. They didn’t belong to him. Cas didn’t belong to him.

“I, and love, and you.”

Dean tore his eyes open, needing to see Cas’ face one more time. Just once more. And he did. But it wasn’t his Cas anymore.

“Having a good dream?”

If only it were real.

Cas was sitting on his bed, leaning over him. Fucking Garth must have let him in.

“Jesus fuck, Cas. Personal space.”

He sat up and pulled away, trying to put some distance between them.

“Apologies,” Cas smirked, not looking apologetic in the least.

“What are you fucking watching me sleep?” Dean snapped, trying to break the odd tension that was saturating the air in his room. It made his skin feel itchy and he didn't like it at all.

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed, letting his gaze travel over Dean’s body. “God, you look different.”

Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He was far too tired for this right now.

“No shit.”

“Mouthier, too. Kinda like it.”

“You're pushing your fucking luck,” Dean growled, feeling his previous anger seep back into his blood. “Talk fast, you’re not staying long.”

There was silence between them for a few moments. Dean swiveled his head and caught Cas’ eye, holding his gaze. Whatever he wanted to say, he could say it to Dean’s face this time.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m really sorry.”

And whatever he had expected Cas to say, that wasn’t it.

“Excuse me?”

“And I miss you. So fucking much.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re gonna stroll in here after a year and say that you miss me?”

Cas just hummed and ran a hand through his hair, otherwise not acknowledging that Dean had spoken.

“How was your date last night?”

Dean felt like he was going to get whiplash from all the crazy directions this conversation was taking. That, and he was just about done being civil to him.

“One, none of your business. Two, can we please back up because I must’ve missed the part where you explained why the hell you’re here telling me you fucking miss me.”

“Sure, just tell me about your date first.”

“Fuck off.”

“It must’ve been pretty good, considering he was wearing your clothes this morning.”

Dean froze. He took a second to really look at Cas, noticing for the first time a hardness in his eyes that only happened when he was really pissed off and really trying to hide it.

“This is fucking rich. That was you this morning?”

“Maybe.”

“Figures. I should’ve known, seeing as how you ran away with your fucking tail between your legs.”

"I didn't run away. I chose to wait by the car instead of barging in."

"Sure, wait by the car until the other guy leaves. Real brave."

Cas seemed to physically gather himself, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment and pressing his lips into a tight line.

“I apologize, I didn’t exactly want to see you for the first time while you still had last night’s fuck in your bed.”

Dean felt like he got punched in the face. Of all things, Cas was going to be angry at him after everything. Dean could see Cas breathing harder than normal, could see the annoyance and jealousy pooling in his eyes, and all it did was fuel his fire.

“Newsflash, Castiel,” he spat his name like a curse, loving the way Cas flinched when he said it. “I’m not yours anymore.”

He snatched a flannel off his desk and stormed out of his room, just hoping that Cas would have the good sense to leave. He grumbled something to Garth about being home later, setting off towards the bars. He was so fucking angry, at Cas and at the small part of himself that was actually happy to see him again.

If Cas was going to be a judgmental asshole about Dean bringing people home, then Dean would give him a reason to judge.

He kind of wished Jo was still there, and he thought for a second about just calling her to vent. But he didn't. Being self-destructive sounded much, much better. And thankfully, Bela picked up on the first ring.

“Tell me you’re doing something. I might die of boredom.”

“Going to the bar. You coming?”

“Hell yes. Be there soon.”

The flash of a fake ID and a little flirting with the bouncer was all it took to get inside the bar. Too easy. He slid up to the bar-top and ordered two shots, feeling Bela’s presence at his side a few minutes later.

“Shots already? Are we blacking out tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Dean hissed, feeling the burn of whiskey in his throat.

“I won’t even ask.”

And that was exactly what Dean appreciated about Bela. She never asked, and he never had to answer. They drank, and danced, and Dean slowly felt his anger and confusion get drowned out by alcohol. Al was at the bar too, and he purposefully made eye contact with Dean a couple of times. Dean kept him in mind, but wasn’t entirely ready to make a commitment yet. Not until he decided which was worse, two people in two nights, or the same person twice in two nights. Decisions decisions.

He let his mind wander around this topic for a while, kind of tuning out Bela's chatter. Not that she noticed. That is, until Bela caught somebody’s attention.

“Hello beautiful.”

The voice was deep and gravelly, and Dean recognized it right away.

“Hello yourself,” Bela responded before Dean’s brain could throw together words.

Cas stood between them at an angle, turning his body so that his back was almost entirely facing Dean. He reached out and took Bela’s hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles and clearly catching her interest.

“Castiel Novak. You are?”

“Bela,” she purred, arching her back towards him.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking,” Dean growled, his heart hammering in his chest.

Cas barely turned to look at him, smirking over his shoulder.

“Oh, Dean. I didn’t even see you there.”

He said it with such calm, like he wasn’t affected at all. Dean, in the mean time, felt like a raging ball of anger and frustration and need and—shit.

“Dean and I are old highschool friends,” Cas offered when Bela gave him a questioning look. She seemed to accept this, giving them both a small smile and excusing herself to the bathroom when Cas smoothly asked her for a moment alone. As soon as she was gone Cas sat down, turning to face Dean. "You know, it wasn't exactly easy to find you."

"Fuckin' good for you."

"But I gather you've become quite the drinker. And there's not that many bars."

Dean flinched at the implied insult. He tossed back the last drops of the beer in front of him, deciding it was time to switch back to the hard stuff. He held up the empty glass towards him and grinned, trying to hide how shitty he felt.

"I learned from the best."

Cas sighed, at least having the decency to look kind of guilty.

“Are you going to talk to me now?”

“Fuck you. You hadda chance.” Dean mumbled, his head feeling heavy and muddled from the alcohol. He waved his hand at the bartender, ordering another shot.

“Fine,” Cas snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He looked kinda blurry, and Dean wondered if his eyes were still angry. “But I’m not going to watch you drink yourself to death.”

Dean actually laughed, tossing back the shot in front of him before Cas could do anything about it. He didn't even notice the burn anymore. Dean stood up and backed away from Cas, sort of surprised that he didn’t topple over.

“How many times I gotta tell y’this? You don’ getta say. Not anymore.”

Dean stumbled over to the back of the bar where Al was sitting in a booth with some friends. He didn’t say anything, just sort of dragged him up by his shirt and started kissing him. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it took hardly any time at all for Al to shove him up against the nearest wall and grind against him, his hands wandering over Dean's body. Just like Dean wanted him to.

Cas was a possessive little thing, after all.

"About fucking time you got your ass over here," Al growled, running a hand down Dean's side. Dean smirked, knowing full well that Cas was watching.

It was only a matter of seconds before familiar hands were grabbing Al's shoulders, shoving him backwards away from Dean. He could see Cas just clearly enough to know that he was fucking mad.

Perfect.

"The fuck?" Alastair spluttered, stumbling backwards. He looked fucking pissed, but that was nothing compared to the jealous rage on Cas' face. Which, in that moment, Dean just thought was hilarious. "What's your problem, bitch?"

"Don't fucking touch him."

Al actually laughed, strolling forward with a cat-like menace until he was inches away from Cas' face.

"Say that again?"

Cas took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, straightening his spine even more and leaning even closer until Al took a step backwards.

“I said keep your fucking hands off of him.”

Cas turned away from him, until he was facing Dean. He felt Cas wrap an arm around his waist, slinging Dean’s arm over his shoulders and forcing him to walk. Dean had to laugh at the territorial display, forgetting all about wherever Al might have wandered off to.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cas growled at him. He was so close to Dean's face, he could actually see the feral sort of rage that was burning in his eyes.

"Tryna piss you off. I did it," he grinned lazily, watching how Cas' gaze darkened.

"God fucking dammit, Dean. Fuck you."

Cas' voice seemed to drop a couple of octaves, making him shiver at the depth of it.

Dean tried to move his feet, but his body didn't seem to want to walk by itself. Maybe that’s why Cas was practically carrying him.

"Hey, hey fuck you too," he laughed, far too amused by the situation he managed to get himself in.

“Dean, I am quite literally dragging you home. The least you could do is not laugh.”

“Tha’s faster than I thought.”

“It’s not exactly fun watching you shove your tongue down some asshole’s throat.”

“Yer a asshole too.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate your kindness.”

“Welcome.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Dean focused most of his attention on moving his feet, the gurgling in his stomach, and how much everything that was in it wanted to come back up.

“Don’ feel good.”

“I know. We’re almost back. Just hang on.”

Dean held on until they were inside his apartment, at which time he released the entire contents of his stomach. Maybe some pieces of his stomach too. Sure felt like it. His face felt hot and he could hardly breathe, his entire body too heavy to move and his head hanging limp on his neck. He wanted to get up, but the edge of the toilet was also really nice and cool on his face and maybe would make a nice bed.

“Baby, come on. You need to get in bed.”

Dean groaned, letting Cas drag him into a standing position and lead him into his room.

"Jesus you got heavier."

"You callin' me fat, Cassiel?"

"I think there should be a 't' in there somewhere," he hummed, sounding tired and worn down.

"No," Dean mumbled, feeling more and more delirious by the second. "No t's. Fuck t's."

"Okay, Dean," he heard Cas huff a small laugh. "Sure thing."

He flopped down on his bed, laughing a little bit while Cas pulled off his jeans and boots.

“What are you laughing at, punk?”

“You. ‘M so mad at you.”

“I know.”

"An' 'm not your baby."

"I know."

Cas hummed softly, pulling Dean’s comforter over his body and running a gentle hand through his hair. Dean leaned into the touch, letting himself enjoy the feel of Cas' fingers for just a moment. He didn't really understand why he even asked, but he was reasonably sure it was mostly because of the alcohol. Probably.

“Can you stay with me?”

Cas smiled down at him, looking so sad Dean almost wanted to cry.

“No. I can’t.”

“Why,” Dean whined, annoyed that Cas wouldn’t listen to him.

“Because you won’t want me here in the morning. And this is hard enough.”

He walked away and turned off the lights, closing Dean’s bedroom door behind him. Dean fell asleep alone, falling into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Waking up hungover never stopped being terrible. Dean’s head was pounding, his stomach threatening to leap out of his body.

By all rights he shouldn’t remember last night. Lord knows he drank enough to forget it. But the fates never were kind to him. He managed to drink enough so that he acted like an idiot, and drank it fast enough that his brain didn’t have time to black it out.

Translation: he was a stupid fuck and he remembered basically every second of it.

He was sort of hoping that Cas would be gone by the time he got up, so that he wouldn't have to face him, but that would’ve been far too easy.

“Glad to see you’re walking on your own again.”

Dean flinched at the ice in his voice, not daring to look at him. Instead, he wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to settle his stomach. He found a can of coke and some plain white bread, deciding that was good enough.

Cas sat quietly on the couch while Dean shuffled around, not saying a word until Dean finally joined him in the living room. He sat as far away from Cas as he could manage, but the space was only so big.

“You could say thank you,” Cas sighed, running his hands through his hair. He looked tired, and Dean guessed that to mean the couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep.

“For?”

“Getting your drunk ass home.”

“I was fine,” Dean bristled, feeling defensive. “I would’ve gotten home by myself.”

“Yeah, right. You would have made it out the door and then decided that the grass was an okay place to sleep.”

“I’m not a stupid kid. I can take care of myself,” he growled, thoroughly annoyed that Cas was talking to him like some kind of disappointed parent.

“That so? Because it sure looked like you were trying to go home with some fucker who wouldn’t have cared that you were basically comatose.”

“I can go home with whoever the fuck I want.”

“You have made that crystal fucking clear, Dean,” Cas snapped, standing up and pacing around the room. “Sorry that I give two shits about you even though you clearly don’t.”

“Yeah, well you should just stop. I don’t need you anymore.”

Dean stood up, feeling too cornered while he was sitting down. Cas stopped his pacing and stormed over, getting right in Dean’s face.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” his voice lowered, making a chill run down Dean’s spine. “Don’t you think I’m aware that there’s not a place in your life for me anymore?”

“It’s your own fucking fault.”

Anger started bubbling under his skin, the feeling of it making his stomach churn. They were standing so close together, with this unmistakeable tension thick between them.

“I know, okay? I know. You were the best goddamn thing to happen to me and I did this to you and—”

“And I fucking told you. That was it. No coming back.”

“Dammit, Dean. I know!” his eyes were blazing, his pupils big and round. But his eyes weren’t just angry, not really. They were angry and frustrated and hurt and heartbroken and desperate and hopeful all at the same time, a mixture Dean was all too familiar with seeing in his own eyes.

He moved before his brain even really decided to do anything. Before he could think this is a bad idea. His body moved on instinct, a need that Dean couldn’t even comprehend in that moment. He put a hand on either side of Cas’ neck, kissing him rough and hard. It took a second for Cas to figure out what was happening, and then he was kissing back and Dean’s rational thought went flying out the window.

Cas’ lips were urgent and needy against his, and he took a moment to ask himself why in the hell they hadn’t been doing this the entire time. It felt so good, so right, every single thing Dean had been missing. His hands found their way to Dean’s back, fingers gripping his skin and holding him close. Dean was acutely aware of each place where their bodies touched, from thigh to stomach. All of him felt like it was on fire, a fire that burned even hotter when Cas groaned against his mouth.

He slid his hands slowly into Cas’ hair, tugging lightly on the dark strands and trying to hold Cas closer. He felt like they were learning each other again, exploring and memorizing the taste and feel—

“Fuck. Shit.”

Cas was on the other side of the room, leaving Dean panting and glued to the same spot. His brain unfogged, and he had the good sense to think that that was a very stupid thing to do. He was fucking angry at Cas. He didn’t even want to speak with him, let alone kiss him. So then what the hell was that?

"Why did you do that?"

“I, um,” Dean stammered, basically unable to speak. “I have no idea. I’m s—”

“Don’t. Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

Everything else melted out of Cas’ voice, leaving him sounding very small and very sad. Dean didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to say or do, but standing there waiting for Cas to respond seemed like as good a plan as any.

It took him a few minutes, but Cas finally spoke again.

“Every damn time. I just want to talk to you and every time I try I just end up fighting with you.”

“Not my fault,” Dean grumbled, making Cas’ lips twitch up.

“You’re just the most infuriating person on the entire planet.”

“Well, aside from that.”

The air of the room cleared slowly, both of them taking a moment to calm themselves, to focus on talking and not fighting. Cas huffed a small laugh and sat on the couch, gesturing for Dean to do the same. He obliged, choosing a spot only slightly less far away. No, Dean reminded himself, angry. You’re angry at him. You’re supposed to be angry at him.

“Can I try to explain myself to you? And then you can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

Dean just nodded, because he was pretty sure that his voice had left his body. He’d thought about this moment far too many times, especially in those first few months. The time when every knock on the door had his heart racing, every text message and phone call made him jump with anticipation.

And then he realized Cas wasn’t coming back. So this? Way too surreal.

“So, the beginning then. You started talking about college, and I panicked. All I could think was I’m eighteen. Eighteen years old and I was so willing to throw away everything I’ve ever wanted to do with my life to climb into your car and drive to Nowhere, Wisconsin. You would go to school and do something with your life and I would just...be there. Doing nothing. How is that okay?”

It wasn’t.

"I never asked you to do that."

"I know."

Dean just dropped his head to his hands, too overwhelmed to say anything. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms and forced himself to look up at Cas again.

“So I convinced myself I had to go. To do what I always thought I'd do. And you would walk away and forget all about me. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t realize that was so terrible.”

“But why? Why would you do that?” his voice cracked, his eyes pleading and confused. The shift of emotion in the room was almost tangible, and Dean felt again like he could barely keep up with the ever-changing mood. “All I could ever do was drag you down. I would never be enough for you, and here you were asking me to stick around when you deserved so much better.”

“So you fucking shove me out the door? Because you didn’t think you were good enough?”

“I knew I wasn’t good enough!” Cas snapped, running his hands through his hair. Dean wanted to kiss him and punch him simultaneously, two halves of his brain fighting over what he was feeling and what he was sure he should’ve been feeling. “I couldn’t let you waste your time on a fucking useless asshole like me. I had to make you leave, and it worked.”

“Fucking congratulations, then. Great job making decisions for me. Well done leaving me fucking crushed and alone. I love you, Cas, and every goddamn day I had to wake up knowing that you didn’t give a shit about me.”

Cas stared at him, his lips parted and his head tilted slightly to the side. Shit, that was present tense. Shit.

“Dean, I—”

“Don’t,” Dean tried to make himself smaller, dropping his head and tugging his fingers painfully through his hair. It hurt, but it grounded him. “Why did you even come back?”

He was mumbling, but he didn’t care. Fuck this entire situation. Fuck this conversation. Fuck goddamn Castiel Novak.

“I’d been traveling for almost a year. I saw the most incredible places, I met amazing people, I took pictures that don’t even look real. And I just fucking missed you.”

Cas’ voice was soft, pleading, and it hurt so bad. Dean tightened his fingers in his hair, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t want to hear this.

“Your green eyes and your freckles and your stupid fucking movies and your ridiculous car. I had to fight myself every day not to go running after you.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“I thought my life was out there, so I went looking for it. I made something of myself. I had the world at my fingertips, and I didn't even care because I didn't have you. I couldn’t stay away, not after that.”

Dean felt the couch shift, reluctantly shifting his gaze up when he felt Cas’ fingers on his chin. Dean’s skin burned where they touched, Cas’ familiar smell clouding his brain.

“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I never should have let you walk out that door.”

Cas was too close to him, that thick tension forming between them again. Dean tried not to think about it, tried not to think about this bizarre urge to kiss him again.

“What do you want from me?”

Dean felt the fire in his skin start to melt away again, replaced by this unsettling uncertainty. He didn’t know where to go from here, now that all of these words were hanging in the space between them.

“I just want to get to know you again. Maybe be friends, like we used to be.”

Dean had to sort of laugh at that. How everything had come full circle, how Cas was now the one asking to just be friends. Ironic, really, that they would end up back here.

He ran through the conversation in his head, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. He should be angry still. He should be cursing and yelling at Cas and telling him to get out of his house. He should be telling him to fuck off. He definitely shouldn’t be considering friendship with a guy who tore him up and scattered the pieces in the wind.

“I, um, I don’t think I forgive you. I get what you're saying, I guess, but, uh…”

“That’s okay.”

Dean nodded. “But, you could, um, you could stay. If you, uh, wanted. Hang out. Um, or something.”

He could be a little more reasonable, vaguely more open-minded. Right? That wasn't so terrible. He was pissed off still, definitely still pissed off, but he could play nice. At least until Cas left again. A slow smile spread across Cas’ face, one he was clearly trying to hide.

“Well, we could watch a movie? I can’t imagine you’re feeling great.”

Dean let himself smile a little bit, noticing how Cas’ eyes lit up. He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously, remembering again what an idiot he’d been the night before.

“Sure. You can pick.”

Cas picked out The Hobbit, and Dean tried not to laugh at his very transparent preference for that genre. But it was a good movie, and it was long, so Dean didn’t complain.

The whole thing was sort of awkward though. They didn’t talk, except for the occasional mumbled comment. They were even sitting on opposite ends of the couch, which maybe was an improvement but still felt pretty weird.

Still, there was something calming about Cas’ presence. A sort of contentment nestled in Dean’s chest, which both settled him and made him more unhappy. Because Cas was going to leave again, and this feeling with him. He thought about asking about when he would leave, but he wasn’t confident enough in this fragile peace to try and test it.

Garth got home from work at some point, but he must have sensed the tension in the room because he didn’t stay for long before he disappeared into his room. Cas seemed to find this pretty funny, but Dean just felt kind of embarrassed.

As the movie ended, Dean heard his phone vibrate. It was sitting on the couch between him and Cas, and the other boy reached over and picked it up before Dean could even react. Dean watched Cas’ face fall as he stared at the screen, the spark fading out of his eyes.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled, handing Dean his phone and climbing off the couch. “Habit. I’m going to--uh, food. Get some food.”

Dean watched him go, glancing down at his phone once he was in the kitchen. It was odd to hear Cas stammer when he was always so sure of himself. There was a text, and Dean automatically felt his face heat up.

*: pick up where we left off?

Dean groaned. Of fucking course Alastair would text him right then. And of course Cas would see it.

He didn’t respond, because he had no interest in seeing the guy again. Still, that didn’t erase the look on Cas’ face from his memory. And this morning, it didn’t feel quite so satisfying to see him hurt.

“I’m just going to eat,” Cas said hesitantly as he wandered back into the living room. He had two plates in his hands, handing one to Dean that had a very delicious-looking sandwich on it. Of course Cas had to be nice to him. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Cas situated himself on the other couch, a detail that didn’t escape Dean’s attention. He didn’t really make eye contact either, choosing to stare down at his own PB&J.

“Cas, you don’t have to do that. I’m not going to—”

“Hey, I’m not trying to cockblock. Go have some fun.”

Cas smirked at him, his expression absolutely fake and plastered on.

Dean hated it.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Dean didn’t really know what to say without sounding like he was begging Cas to stay. Because he refused to do that, not again.

“Where, um, where are you gonna go? If you need a place...”

He didn’t know how long Cas had planned on staying, if he had a hotel or if he was going to just leave town. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if Cas stayed or left, because why should it matter to him?

“I have to go pick up the keys to my new place. Which I really should do soon, before they close for the day.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Cas as he popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and stood up, carrying his empty plate into the kitchen.

“Your new place?”

Cas just hummed, pulling on his shoes and walking towards the door.

“Where is it?”

“You know that new building south of campus? I think it’s called ‘The Place’ or something equally as ridiculous.”

Dean nearly choked on his sandwich, and he was sure his expression was completely priceless.

“H-here? You, you have a place here? In, um, uh, here in Madison?”

Cas smirked at him, none of it reaching his eyes. Dean cursed himself inwardly for stammering so fucking much, wishing he could keep his shit together for once.

“Yep. I got a job, so I thought I should settle in.”

“A job? You have a job here? Why…why didn’t you say anything?”

Cas shrugged. “Well, not here, per say, but I'm living here. I don't know, does it matter?”

Dean wanted to scream at him. Of course it fucking matters. You’re staying. This matters.

"What, um, what's your job?"

"Well, 'job'," Cas put up air-quotes with his fingers, a small smile on his face. A real one, this time. "It's actually more like a paid internship."

"An internship? How did you...?"

Dean didn't know, well, anyone who got an internship without at least some college education. How in the hell Cas pulled that off, he had no idea.

"I met a guy. I've been working with him for a while now, basically as a personal assistant slash professional shadow."

"Oh."

Dean didn't have a clue what he was supposed to say. What did it mean that his job wasn't there, "per say"? Dean felt an absurd flash of hope, stamping it out before he felt it too deeply.

“Anyway,” Cas cleared his throat, opening up the front door and looking heartbreakingly sad for a split second before his practiced mask slid back over his features. “Have fun with, whatever-his-name-is.”

“Alastair. Al.”

Cas flinched, and Dean immediately wanted to smack himself for running his huge goddamn mouth. Cas rolled his shoulders and breathed in heavily, and Dean definitely didn’t miss the unmistakably possessive glint in his eye.

“Great. Have a fucking blast.”

And then he was gone, leaving Dean alone in his living room with absolutely no intention of doing anything except maybe deleting Al’s number.

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

“It’s been like, a day. You already need my incredible advice?”

Jo was smiling at him from his computer screen, where she was sitting in her own room in Boston. Dean had already quietly said his thanks for the existence of Skype, and that Jo wasn’t too busy to listen to his drama.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dean mumbled miserably, dropping his head into his hands again. He still had a raging headache, but his mind was racing too much for him to sleep it off. Not that he hadn’t tried.

“Okay, okay. Talk.”

Dean recounted the entire list of events of the previous day, starting from Cas watching him while he slept all the way to him storming out a couple of hours earlier. Jo rolled her eyes at certain parts and nodded at others, but otherwise didn’t say anything until he was done. She looked pissed, and Dean started to seriously fear for his life.

“So?”

“Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me all of this?”

“Jo, its been like, five hours.”

In all honesty Dean had been too afraid to call earlier, to actually talk about what was going on and try to make sense of his brainwaves. So instead he focused on unpacking, finishing up random chores around the apartment.

“Yeah, asshole. Five hours for Castiel to think that you’re getting busy with some guy who, by the way, isn’t nearly as drool-worthy as that asshole who’s in love with you.”

“He’s not in love with me, Jo. Not anymore.”

Jo straight out laughed at that, tugging at the ends of her blonde hair.

“You’re fucking joking, right? How could you possibly think that he isn’t totally gone on you?”

“I dunno,” Dean mumbled, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “He didn’t say so.”

Jo groaned, pretending to bang her head on her desk.

“If I was there I would wring your pretty little neck. Dean, you basically told him to stay the fuck away from you and then managed to flaunt another guy that you’ve obviously slept with right in front of his face. At what point did you want him to confess his love?”

“I told him, so—”

“You told him on accident, and clearly regretted it afterwards.”

Well, that was true. He had regretted it, because it made him vulnerable, and Cas probably didn't even feel the same way.

“Yeah, well, this is his fault. And I told him not to come back anyway.”

“Can I ask you a question?” her voice was much softer now, which scared Dean even more than her anger.

“Go ahead.”

“How did you feel when he came back?”

“Fucking pissed.”

“Okay,” she smiled, like this was good news. “Are you still pissed?”

"Fuck yes."

"Why?"

Definitely not a question Dean was expecting.

“Why? Because he ditched me, that’s why. Because he’s a complete and total asshole, even now. Because I deserve to be pissed, I should be pissed after everything—”

“There it is.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, not sure what she meant.

“There’s what?”

“You feel like you have to stay angry, because he hurt you and you’re not allowed to forgive him, no matter how much he tries to explain. You have to be pissed off because you should be pissed off. That’s how you’re supposed to feel. Sound right?”

“No,” Dean got defensive, his cheeks heating up. “I know I’m allowed—”

“You know you’re allowed to forgive him? Because it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it. Why did you kiss him?”

"I don't fucking know!" Dean felt his voice raise, but Jo didn't even react. "I just did it. Fuck."

"I think you know."

Dean wanted to scream at her. Of course he fucking knew. He'd needed to stop Cas from hurting, and in that moment it was the only way he knew how.

Dean stared down at his hands, his mind racing with too many emotions. He tried to grab on to the anger, pinpoint why he was mad, but every reason kept slipping away. He pushed me away. To try and help you. He was gone for a year. He was trying to stay away. For you. He broke my heart. He's trying to fix it. I needed him here, with me. He knows. He isn't leaving, not again.

“So, what, just stop being angry?”

“You've already stopped being angry.”

"How do you know?" he snapped, not liking how Jo was trying to tell him what he was feeling.

"Because I know you. You're hurt, not mad. So you're being, sorry to say it, a complete and utter asshole to him because you're hoping he'll just leave again and you won't have to admit that you want to forgive him. Am I wrong?"

Of course she wasn't. Jo was hardly ever wrong. He felt absolutely and utterly disgusted with himself, with every stupid fucking thing he'd done.

"What do I do?" he looked at her hopelessly, trying to find the answers to his problems in the lines of her face.

"Let him try again," her voice softened, and she offered him a quiet smile. "No more bottles of whiskey, no more going out looking for a warm body. Just go find him, see what happens."

She was so sure, and Dean found himself wishing that he could have even half of her confidence. There was no way Cas would even want him anymore.

“Do you think he even wants that?”

“Dean Winchester,” Jo sighed heavily, shaking her head at him. “That boy used to look at you like you were his entire universe. And if I'm not wrong, he probably still does. Do you really think he would turn you away?”

His brain helpfully started dredging up memories, handing him images and sensations that just split his chest right open. Cas blinking sleepily in his arms; the two of them singing obnoxiously at prom; watching fireworks with his hand resting on Cas’ heart; squeezing together in a too small sleeping bag; Cas’ appalled face when the first Lord of the Rings ended; Cas on his lap in the Impala, chest heaving faster than normal; Cas’ hands in his hair in the cafeteria; a wet body on top of him as he laid by the lake; a book pressed painfully into his back; teeth marks and bruises on both of their necks, neither of them ashamed in the slightest…

Cas sitting lazily on the kitchen counter. The pressure of his thighs against his side. Cas’ legs around his waist. Mumbled directions. A thumb swiping across his bottom lip.

The tilt of a head and piercing blue eyes from across a circle of near strangers.

“Dean?”

He tore himself out of the memories, shaking his head in an effort to clear it.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

“I gotta go.”

Jo grinned at him, happier than he’d seen her in a while.

“Go get him.”

He slammed his computer shut and ran out of his apartment, barely remembering to grab his keys on his way out the door.

Chapter Text

In books and movies, this part always seemed so easy. Not that Dean watched a lot of romantic comedies, of course he didn’t, but he knew how they were supposed to work.

You were supposed to have a life-changing epiphany, decide to win back your long-lost love, find them, give a big long speech, and then kiss and live happily ever after.

This should’ve been the easy part.

Admittedly, it would’ve been easy if Dean actually knew what damn apartment Cas lived in.

"The Place" was fucking huge. Like, single-handedly the biggest apartment building Dean had ever seen. It had a friggin’ lobby for Christ-sake. It was absolutely snooty and overstated, and probably cost both arms and a leg to live there. There were two buildings, both of which shared a connected main floor where the lobby, a gym, and some type of study room were located. Each building had six floors, probably right around twenty units per floor judging by the number of windows.

Dean glanced helplessly down at his phone, sincerely wishing that he hadn’t deleted Cas’ number all those months ago. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was a horrendous drunk-texter who couldn’t handle temptation.

When he walked into the lobby he had the immediate impression that he was most definitely not welcome there. He was absolutely underdressed, and he felt like some dirty street kid in his flannel and worn-out jeans. For a bunch of college kids, the other tenants looked shockingly put together. He stood up straight and tried to look like he knew what he was doing, putting on a layer of confidence that was 100% fabricated.

“Hi,” he grinned at the girl sitting at the front desk, trying to look harmless. “Can you help me?”

She was typing away at the computer in front of her and never even glanced up at him, but she gave him a small nod so he continued.

“I’m looking for my friend, I completely forgot what unit he’s in but his name is Castiel Novak and I was hoping—”

“I can’t give out any information regarding our tenants,” she interrupted, continuing to type God knows what.

“But I—”

“Sorry,” she finally looked up at him, and icy smile on her face. “Have a nice day.”

No way he was giving up that easy. This called for more drastic measures. He glanced quickly down at her name tag, leaning forward on her desk and giving her his most irresistible smile.

“Please, Hannah? It’s just one little number. I promise I won’t tell.”

She cleared her throat gently, her smile growing even more pinched.

“Perhaps you should speak with your friend, instead. Have a nice day.”

And then she was typing furiously again, leaving Dean feeling annoyed but definitely not defeated. This was just, maybe going to be harder than he had anticipated.

He started on the north tower of the building, jogging up the first flight of stairs since there were no rooms on the first floor. He had to sneak past the front desk girl, Hannah, when she wasn't looking, but she was so engrossed in the damn computer that it was pretty easy.

He knocked on the door in front of him, room 201, his heart racing. A guy answered, about five inches taller than Dean.

“Um, hi. Do you, uh, do you know a guy named Castiel?”

The guy just stared at him, eyebrows raised and a confused look on his face.

“Dark hair?” Dean continued. “Blue eyes?”

“Nah, bro. Sorry.”

Dean said his thanks and spun around, knocking on room 202. It was a girl this time, petite and blonde.

“Hi. Do you know a guy named Castiel? Dark hair, blue eyes?”

She shook her head, so Dean said thanks and jogged to room 203. Another girl, who also didn’t know who Cas was.

Shit.

It turned out that no one on the second floor knew Cas, same for the third floor. A guy in 417 said he’d seen somebody like that in the lobby one time, but had no idea where he lived or if he even lived in that building. By the time Dean got up to the fifth floor he was breathing heavy, growing increasingly desperate.

What if Cas didn’t even live here yet? What if he was out somewhere? What if his was one of the rooms that had no one home?

Shit shit shit.

In 614, he caught a little glimmer of hope.

“Castiel? I think I met a Castiel one time.”

Dean froze, staring at the brunette in front of him. “You, you did? Do you know where he lives?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” she hummed, staring up like she was thinking. “We talked in the lobby for a little while with my roommates. Hey Sarah!”

She yelled into the apartment, presumably to one of her roommates. Somebody yelled back, but Dean couldn't understand what they said.

“Do you remember that guy from the lobby? The hot one?…Yeah him!…Do you know where he lives?…Damn,” she turned back to Dean, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. “Sorry, I don’t know. I think he said south tower.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed, feeling exhausted. It had been two and a half hours of searching, and he hadn’t even been to the other tower yet. It was dark outside by now too, which especially didn’t help. “Thanks anyway.”

He knocked on the rest of the doors on the sixth floor just in case, not having any success.

By the time he ran down all six flights of stairs and over to the south tower, he was full on panting. Floors two and three were useless, and Dean started to get more and more sure that Cas wasn’t living in this complex at all.

That is, until he hit room 411.

“Castiel Novak?” the guy in front of him was skinny, light-haired, and wearing some type of red and white striped uniform that was absolutely atrocious. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, and Dean just about wanted to cry.

“Yeah, shit yeah. Novak. Know where he lives?”

His lungs were on fire and he was struggling to speak, his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton.

“Down the hall. 419.”

Dean practically squeezed the guy to death, hugging him so tight his eyes were probably popping out.

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you!”

He ran down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of 419 and pounding his fist on the door. A couple of seconds passed and Dean started to panic that maybe Cas wasn’t home, that maybe this was the wrong room. And then the door cracked open, confused blue eyes staring out at him.

“Dean?”

“Hi,” he managed, his breath still ragged.

“Might I ask why you’re breathing so hard?”

“Didn’t know, uh,” he took a second to breathe, trying to get his breaths under control. “Didn’t know which one was yours.”

He gestured down the hallway at all the closed doors, blushing as Cas started to smile at him.

“You didn’t want to just call?”

“Don’t have your number.”

Cas looked a little surprised at that, but then he just laughed.

“And you don’t know anyone else who has it?”

Dean processed that. Oh. Shit.

Well, he was an idiot.

“Um, dramatic, uh, dramatic effect. Didn't want you to know I was coming.”

It was a terrible excuse, but whatever.

Cas’ smile was genuine, but definitely controlled. He was holding back, and Dean liked to think he still knew him well enough to tell. They stood in silence for a minute, both of them waiting for the other to make a move, or say something. Cas tried first.

“So, did you want to come in? I’m not really unpacked but the place came furnished so—”

“I wasn’t, um, with him. Just now. I didn’t—I don’t want to see him again.”

Cas rubbed the back of his neck, looking conflicted.

“Dean, it’s fine.”

“But I wasn’t. I was just at home and—”

“I swear, it’s fine. You can see whoever you want. I shouldn’t have—”

“Can you shut up?”

Cas froze. His eyes were wide and confused, and Dean very suddenly felt overwhelmed by all of the things he needed to say. So, of course, none of it came out.

“I missed you, too.”

Cas just stared at him, a look of pure, unadulterated shock on his face.

“What?”

“I, um, I don’t want to be friends,” he continued, trying to focus on the words he needed to say. Cas made a face like he couldn’t decide if he should be excited or crushed, so Dean kept talking. “Or, um, just friends. Everything you did was really shitty and it was shitty of you to come back and be an asshole, but I guess I was pretty shitty too. So just, know you’re not forgiven. But you can start making it up to me. If, um, if you want to.”

There it was. Exactly nothing like he had planned, but good enough. As Cas stared at him his heart kept hammering in his chest, and he was fairly certain it was going to pop out at any second. He could basically hear it slamming against his ribcage, so loud next to Cas’ absolute silence.

"Dean, maybe we should--"

"I know we have a lot to talk about. I get that. But you're staying. Can't we figure the rest out later?"

Cas didn't say anything, the same surprised expression on his face. He’s gonna tell me to leave, he thought, feeling a blush crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. Jo was wrong. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t—

Cas practically launched himself at Dean, almost tackling him to the ground. Dean didn’t even care that they were in the middle of the hallway, far too caught up in the way Cas’ fingers buried themselves in his hair, the press of his lips, the slide of his tongue in Dean’s mouth. He felt like he was drunk, the world spinning around him as he clung to Cas with everything he had.

“That goddamn blush,” Cas murmured against his mouth, not even breaking the kiss. “You drive me fucking crazy Dean Winchester.”

“Good.”

"Of course we can figure it out later. Of course."

Dean grinned against his mouth, sliding his hands down Cas’ back and pulling on his hips. Cas growled low in his throat in response, the sound sending a flush of heat down Dean’s body. He felt a moan escape his lips as Cas rolled his hips in a particularly taunting way, letting Dean feel the hardness in his jeans.

“We, uh, we should maybe go inside,” he mumbled, dragging his nails down Cas’ back.

Cas pulled back just enough to see Dean’s face, smirking down at him.

“As you wish.”

They stumbled inside, taking far too long to reach Cas’ bed because neither of them wanted to let go of the other. They undressed each other slowly, kissing and biting every bit of skin. Dean pinned Cas underneath him, sliding a hand into his hair and using it to tug his head to the side. With his neck bared, Dean kissed and bit trails of hickeys from his collarbone to the spot underneath his ear. And maybe he spent a little extra time there, loving how Cas squirmed underneath him and sighed his name like a prayer.

When he was satisfied, he let Cas do the same. The other boy took his time worrying the skin with his teeth, sucking marks that Dean knew were going to stick around for a while. Maybe it was childish, but he didn't care. He needed to know that Cas was his again, and he had a feeling that Cas felt the same way.

Right as Dean thought he was going to explode Cas finally produced a bottle of lube from God knows where, and Dean let him use it to pry him open one finger at a time. Cas knew him, knew his body, knew every little spot and tick. Dean didn’t even stand a chance. He was practically begging, mumbling against Cas' lips and his hips lifting up towards his fingers, asking for more more more.

When Cas finally slid into him, one agonizingly slow inch at a time, Dean lost it. It was perfect. Cas was perfect. This was all so goddamn perfect. Cas groaned into Dean’s mouth, his fingers tightening against Dean’s skin. Their hips moved together, the steady rhythm picking up speed and stuttering as their brains became muddled with endorphins. It was soft and slow, each of them worshipping the other.

“Castiel,” Dean moaned as he came, his voice shaking. He felt warmth on his stomach, and a few thrusts later Cas was moaning his name.

And for a moment, all Dean could think was he was so glad that they still had this, that this one thing belonged to him and Cas and him and Cas alone.

Dean felt like he was flying, or definitely floating. Cas was lying on top of him, neither one of them giving a shit about the mess between them. He ran his hand through Cas’ hair over and over again, smoothing the dark strands and kissing him greedily until his body decided it was done being awake.

“Sleepy?” Cas hummed, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He felt Cas roll and climb off of him, immediately whining from the loss of warmth. “Shhh. Hold on.”

Cas was back in a minute with a warm wash cloth, wiping the mess off of Dean’s stomach. He was gone for a second longer before Dean heard music start to play and felt him climb back into the bed, automatically wrapping himself around Cas like vines.

He felt Cas’ lips on his skin, kisses on his neck where Dean was sure there were hickeys. Cas just hummed happily, nuzzling his nose into the skin of Dean’s neck.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“M' sorry. For Alastair. For the drinking. For the other stuff an’ other people.”

“Hey,” he squished himself closer, which Dean didn’t even know was possible. “Don’t apologize to me. I did everything wrong. None of this is on you.”

“Everything just fuckin’ hurt and—”

“Shhh,” Cas pressed more kisses to his skin, the feel of his lips soothing Dean’s worry. “You don’t need to explain yourself."

"I was such a jerk. I don't even know what I was thinking."

"Do you remember when we first met? And you left me?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Dean huffed, his lips twitching up. "I just left your house because I thought you didn't want me."

"Whatever. Just let me give my analogy."

"Fine fine. Speak."

"I didn't have you so I ran away to Balthazar. You were the one who made me stop, so I could fucking, I don't know, care about myself for once in my life. If I blamed you for doing basically the same thing, what kind of pig-headed hypocrite would I be?"

"You gonna save me, Cas?" Dean let some sarcasm seep into his voice, his tone warm and teasing.

"Shut up," Cas laughed. "Just," his voice dropped, his tone serious, "don’t torture yourself anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean hummed, feeling the guilt start to melt away. And then he was falling asleep, protection from his nightmares wrapped up in his arms.

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

He woke up to Cas kissing him, which was definitely not the worst thing in the world.

“Dean, wake up.”

He hummed and dragged his hand up Cas’ back to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer and placing wet, sleepy kisses on his lips.

Cas’ left arm was wrapped around him, his nails scratching circles on Dean’s back. Dean had one leg hooked over Cas’ hip, one of Cas’ legs between his own. He felt Cas smile against his mouth, kissing back slowly, their lips never breaking apart.

“Dean,” Cas dragged out the letters, presumably trying to get Dean to wake up. Dean just kissed him harder, listening as his name turned into a slow moan.

“Need bathroom.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at that. So he let Cas go, dragging his eyes open and fake pouting as he climbed out of bed.

“Needy needy,” Cas tsked, smirking at him. He was completely naked still, and Dean let his eyes wander.

“You left me for a year. ‘Course I’m needy.”

He saw Cas flinch almost imperceptibly, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean felt kind of guilty for saying it, but it was true. And, well, they couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Dean…”

“You’re not forgiven, remember? Imma use that as ammo for as long as I can.”

Dean gave him a small smile and Cas seemed to accept it, leaning down and placing a lingering kiss on Dean’s lips.

"In that case. You survived a year, you can survive two more minutes while I go relieve myself," Cas smiled, giving Dean quite a nice view as he walked away.

Dean closed his eyes again, noticing after a minute or so that the music from the night before was still playing.

“You stole my song,” Dean mumbled when Cas returned, wrapping himself around him once again and burying his nose in Cas’ neck.

“Excuse you, the Avett Brothers are not yours.”

Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead, letting them linger there.

“I was playing it. When you were stalkerishly watching me sleep.”

“Were you? And anyway I heard this way before that. So did you.”

Dean paused and pulled away from Cas’ neck, catching his eye and placing a warm kiss on his lips because who was he to deny himself the finer things in life?

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember going to the lake? And we shared that sleeping bag?”

Dean smiled, fondly remembering that particular memory.

“‘Course.”

“I’d been humming it all day, I guess. I didn’t notice, but you did. And you made me sing it to you. I told you that you were drunk and you wouldn’t remember it, but—”

Dean felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.

“But I told you I didn’t care. I said you were drunk too. I told you to sing it anyway.”

Cas gave him a strange look, a mix of surprise and confusion.

“You said you didn’t remember that. How did you…?”

“Um, I had a dream. The other day. I just…I didn’t realize it was actually a memory.”

Dean thought back to the dream. Thought back to the affection in Cas’ voice, the emotion in his eyes. All this time Dean had thought he just liked the song; he didn’t realize it was because of Cas. But then, everything came back to Cas.

“That song, it, it got me through some shit. I just thought I liked it, but I guess some part of me remembered, or something. I dunno.”

Cas smiled at him, warm and full of promises.

“That night, I think I fell in love with you. And I think some part of me was trying to tell you.”

“I know,” Dean grinned, remembering his dream once again. He had known that look in Cas’ eyes, had recognized it for what it was.

“That so?” Cas raised an eyebrow at him, interpreting his tone as cockiness.

“Mmmm,” Dean kissed him, humming into his mouth and feeling Cas smile.

“Idiot.”

“Asshole.”

Cas huffed a small laugh, snuggling closer. Dean couldn't stop kissing him. In the most cliche way, he felt like he'd been starving and suddenly someone had offered him an all-you-can-eat buffet. Cas' lips felt like home, and he couldn't bear to drag himself away. He needed to memorize him, every inch of his skin, every flick of his tongue and press of his lips.

"Hey Dean?" Cas mumbled, pulling away just enough to speak.

Dean just hummed, distracted by Cas' skin. He captured Cas' lips again, feeling his smile against his mouth.

"How many rooms did you knock on?"

Dean finally pulled back a tiny bit, admiring the glowing affection shining in Cas' eyes. He thought for a moment, trying to do some quick math with his tired brain.

"Um, six, then...twenty...and uh, four...something like, a hundred and fifty? Hundred and sixty?"

"Holy shit," Cas laughed, his shoulders shaking.

"Shut up. The bitch in the lobby wouldn't help."

"That's because you look like a hoodlum."

"You could say thank you."

"Mmmm," Cas hummed, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Thanks baby."

Dean just made a grumpy noise, squeezing Cas tighter and placing a lingering kiss on his lips.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a while, kissing and just looking at each other, letting their eyes roam. Cas kept smiling hungrily, and Dean noticed him sliding his thumb over the hickeys he had left on Dean’s neck.

“How bad are they?” he mumbled, feeling his lips twitch up.

“Not bad,” Cas growled, his voice low and possessive. He leaned forward, sucking and scraping his teeth over the skin, making Dean groan quietly. “Fucking incredible.”

“Of course you think so,” Dean mumbled, admiring his own handiwork.

He found Cas’ hands with his own, lacing their fingers together and rolling so that Cas was underneath him. He slid their hands up towards the headboard, Cas' hands above his head, nudging Cas’ head to the side with his nose.

He trailed wet kisses across the skin of his neck, using his teeth to darken the marks. He was addicted to the taste of Cas’ skin, to the soft sounds escaping his mouth. Dean was achingly hard and he could feel that Cas was too, but he was enjoying this way too much to stop.

He didn't have any idea how he had ever lived without it.

He finally managed to pull himself back, completely and absolutely mesmerized by the heartbreakingly gorgeous boy who was underneath him. His dark hair wild, in a way that only fingers could cause. His tanned skin flushed and pinkish, his lips parted and wet. His chest rising and falling just a smidge too fast, his blue eyes bright and his pupils blown wide. The darkened marks on his neck, the smell of Dean branded into his skin once again.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” he breathed, the words heavy in Dean’s chest.

In that moment, everything finally sunk in. Cas was back. Cas was staying. He would never have to say goodbye to Cas ever again. He could wake up next to Cas every single day, if he wanted to. They could get in a fight and Dean could storm out the door, only for Cas to show up ten minutes later and apologize. He could bring Cas out and show him off to all his friends, show him all his favorite spots like he'd done with Jo. They could have it all back. Not the same, not even close, but maybe that was for the better.

“And I love you, Castiel Novak,” Dean answered, not a single note of uncertainty in his voice.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Chapter Text

"Did I tell you that you would look hot in khakis and a tie, or did I tell you?"

"I believe your exact words were 'all domestic and adorable'," Dean mumbled, staring at himself in the mirror. He felt weird, quite honestly. The whole look didn't come naturally to him, but Cas seemed to like it so it couldn't be all bad.

He heard the rustling of cloth behind him, continuing to fiddle with his tie until he heard Cas clear his throat. Dean turned and sat back on his bed, pulling his computer onto his lap and staring at Cas on the screen.

"You're going to be fine. Stop worrying so much."

"So says you. What if they throw paper at me? Do you think they can smell fear?"

As much as Cas believed in him, Dean had a hard time agreeing. Today was his first day of student teaching, since he would graduate in the spring. He'd been preparing for what felt like weeks, studying up on how to keep unruly classrooms under control and the proper style of dress for the job. He'd settled on some version of business casual, hence the khaki-tie combo that Cas seemed to love so much.

"I don't think kindergarteners throw paper. They can smell fear though, so beware."

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He wished Cas was actually there, instead of just being on Skype.

“Can you come home now, please?”

“Soon,” he laughed, glancing around at his crappy motel room. “My flight gets in Wednesday night.”

“That’s two days. Not soon enough.”

“Trust me, I know. This room has nothing on our place.”

To be fair, nowhere was as good as their place. Dean had lived out his sophomore year with Garth, him and Cas rotating which nights they stayed at which place. At the end of the year Garth moved in with his girlfriend, Bess, and Dean and Cas got a place together. It was a small, old house off campus, two bedrooms with a microscopic kitchen and a fenced in backyard. They only ever needed the second room for guests, and Jo loved to pretend like it was officially hers. She claimed full responsibility for getting them back together, which was partially true, so Dean and Cas just went along with her. It was just a rental, but it was theirs and it was home.

“That’s just because I’m not there.”

“Obviously,” Cas grinned, his smile still making Dean’s heart melt.

“I don’t get why Joshua always gets shitty rooms. He has the money.”

Cas shrugged. “He’s a modest guy. Fancy hotel rooms don’t interest him, I guess.”

Modest was definitely an understatement when it came to Joshua. He’d been Cas’ boss for the last three years and Dean had never met him, but he felt like he had a pretty good idea what the guy was like. He was a photographer, and apparently a damn good one at that. Companies hired him, but his own work was some mixture of what Dean could only really describe as some brand of cultural photography. Cas had met him in a beer hall in Munich, during one of Joshua’s many travels, and the two of them bonded over liter beers, gigantic pretzels, and a fascination with the world and the people in it.

Three years later Cas was still working for him, and Dean never stopped being thankful for it. He let Cas live wherever he wanted, which is how Cas ended up in Madison, and let him do most of the work over Skype or email. He booked plane flights, set up meetings with clients, dealt with any and all correspondence, all the fun stuff that Joshua couldn’t be bothered with, and for a week every month or two Joshua would fly him out to some remote corner of the world to explore. Cas got to learn from him, got to take pictures, got to see even more places.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion that the job, or the “internship” as Cas liked to call it, was something that Joshua had completely made up specifically for Cas. He had an even stronger suspicion that Joshua absolutely didn’t need an assistant, and he just made up work because he liked Cas, but Cas was happy and for now it was enough.

Several times Cas asked Dean if he wanted to come along, said that Joshua would pay his way, but Dean never accepted. It felt like an intrusion, and he wanted this thing to just be his. The weeks that he was gone were never fun, but Dean knew that Cas needed it. It was good for him, to get away. It was good for them, to miss each other.

“Alright,” Cas stretched, arching his back and running his fingers through his already ruffled hair. Dean almost whined, the view of Cas was so tempting. He wanted to get his hands on him, like, now. “Get going.”

"You're the worst," Dean grumbled, making Cas smirk.

"Me? Why?"

Dean purposefully scanned Cas' body, staring particularly at the t-shirt he was wearing. Dean's t-shirt, a worn old Motorhead one that was too big for his slimmer shoulders and sort of hung off of him in an absolutely distracting way.

"Because," Dean sighed. "You insist on wearing my clothes when you’re far away and I can’t even enjoy it."

"I don't see why you care so much."

Dean knew he was goading him, but he didn't even care. He did this a lot, when he went away. Cas would sneak one or two of Dean’s shirts into his bag when he wasn’t looking, and Dean knew he liked to wear them when he slept. He never asked, but Dean always sort of guessed that it had a lot to do with the fact that his smell clung to the fabric.

"Because you look fucking hot in my clothes and I want you in them all the time. You happy now, asshole?”

“Very,” Cas smirked, his eyes brimming with all sorts of ideas. “God I miss you.”

“Me too. Come home soon.”

“Promise. Now go mold some young minds.”

“Will do,” Dean smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

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

His first day was a million times harder than he thought it would be, and he loved every second of it.

He was working in a classroom with a woman named Missouri, or Miss Moseley as the kids called her. She was equal parts warm and terrifying, and Dean couldn’t help but think that he was going to learn a lot from her.

They got to chatting while the kids were at recess, and Dean had the distinct feeling that Missouri was almost too perceptive.

“What’s their name?” she said, a sing-song quality to her voice.

“Um, who?”

Dean paused for a second, trying to talk and lay out napkins and food for their snack at the same time. Each kid got five pretzel sticks, which was honestly just comical and also completely adorable.

“Whoever it is your mind keeps drifting to.”

“Oh, um, I’m not—”

“Dean Winchester,” she waggled her finger at him, and he felt like he was the kindergartener. “Don’t you lie to me now.”

Dean huffed a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

“He, uh, Cas. Is his name,” the outside door opened as he spoke, twenty pairs of tiny feet tumbling into the room. “He’s my boyfriend.”

It still felt sort of weird to call Cas that, no matter how many times he said it. Missouri just hummed and smiled at him, both of them very suddenly caught up in the rush of little, red, happy faces staring up at them.

"That explains the wistful looks."

Dean wanted to protest, say that he most definitely did not look wistful, but the kids were too much to handle. After recess was snack and art, and then the kids would do some counting and head home for the day. Today was day two of an ongoing mosaic project, so most of the kids were preoccupied with the arranging of their tiny pieces of paper. Dean and Missouri bounced around to different tables, trying to keep little hands under control and out of other people’s projects. On his second trip around the room he saw a little girl raising her hand, a teensy little blonde who was basically bouncing in her seat trying to get his attention. He smiled and strolled over, crouching down next to her and putting on his teacher-voice.

“Mister Dean?”

“Hello Hayley. How's your project going?”

“Um,” she looked shyly down at her pile of unorganized scraps, clearly not making much progress. “It’s pretty. Mister Dean, are you a boy?”

Dean stifled a laugh, caught off guard by the sincerity in her big blue eyes.

“Yes, Hayley. I am. Why do you ask?”

“Why did you tell Miss Moseley that you have a boyfriend? You can’ have a boyfriend ‘cause you’re a boy.”

Yikes. Of all the conversations he wanted to have with a kindergartener, this was most definitely not one of them.

“Well, um, Hayley,” he cleared his throat, not really sure how to respond. “Not all boys like girls. And not all girls like boys. Some boys like other boys, and some girls like other girls, and some like both.”

“That’s not what Mommy and Daddy said,” she said, fiddling with her pieces. “Daddy says that those boys just need to find a really pretty girl. And then they will love her.”

“Hayley, I’m not sure that’s how it—”

“Mister Dean, do you want a pretty girl that you can love?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. She was so innocent and so sincerely worried, she couldn’t help that her parents were bigots.

“No Hayley, I don’t. I love my boyfriend very much, and I don’t think a pretty girl is going to change my mind. Not even a really pretty one.”

Her face fell, and he saw her tiny lip start to tremble like she was going to cry. Oh shit. Shit shit shit.

“That’s what my big brother said too,” she squeaked, rubbing her eye with one little hand.

Dean tread carefully, speaking softly and slowly.

“Does your brother have a boyfriend too?”

She just nodded, her blonde ponytail bouncing up and down.

“Daddy says he can’ have him. An’ they fight a lot. But I like Ian he is really nice and he brings me ice cream sometimes when Mommy and Daddy aren’t home and he comes to see my brother and they are really happy I think but Daddy says he’s not allowed.”

She was babbling so fast that Dean could barely understand, but he was pretty sure he got the gist of it. Asshole parents who were teaching this little girl how to hate before she even knew what hate was.

“Hey Hayley? Can I tell you a secret?”

She nodded excitedly, her blue eyes wet and worried and staring at him like he held all the answers in the world. If only.

“Some people won’t understand your brother. They think boys should like girls and girls should like boys, and that’s it. And some people might be mean to him. But do you love him, no matter what?”

She nodded.

“Then everything will be okay. Your Mommy and Daddy will learn, because they love your brother too. And then you,” he tapped her lightly on the nose, making her scrunch her face up and giggle. “You can teach people, you can show them that it’s okay. Sound good?”

She smiled and nodded, her blue eyes bright and happy again. He hoped he wasn’t lying to her, about her parents changing their minds. He knew that all too often that wasn’t the case. He just hoped, for little Hayley’s sake, that they might try.

The rest of the day after that was uneventful. In fairness, not much could beat having the “it’s okay to be gay” talk with a five-year-old.

After the kids were all safely on their busses or in cars with their parents on their way home, Dean spent a few minutes cleaning up and doing a bit of prep with Missouri before heading out the door.

On his drive home he dialed Cas, eager to tell him about his day. Cas had a short supply of international minutes, courtesy of Joshua, that they tried not to use unless necessary. But this, well, it felt necessary.

“Hello?”

Cas sounded hesitant over the phone, like he was busy with something.

“Hey, um, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Dean, you called me.”

“I know?”

God he sounded weird. Cas was usually happy to hear from him. This was…not normal.

“So?”

“So, I, uh, I guess I just wanted to tell you about my day.”

The line hung dead for a couple of seconds, and Dean thought he heard some kind of loudspeaker in the background. There was shuffling at the other end of the line, but Cas didn’t say anything.

“You know, first day? Student teacher? Bunch of crazy five-year-olds? Ring a bell?”

“Dean, I—shit. Can I call you back? This is a really bad time. I’ll call you back. Okay. Soon.”

And then the line went dead, before Dean could even say anything.

And Cas didn’t call back. Not at 5pm, not at 7pm, not at 9pm, not at midnight. Dean tried very hard not to freak out, not to be pissed off. Cas was just at work. He was just busy.

He had to try even harder to say no to Bela when she tried to guilt him into going to the bar with her, something he was getting increasingly good at. It would be a lie to pretend like the first few months with Cas back had been easy, and it would be a bigger lie to pretend like Dean's old habits didn't die hard. When they fought, which had been all too often at first, Dean's first instinct was to run away, drown his frustrations in a bottle of something strong. He had his fair share of drunken nights, but he always came stumbling home, stinking of booze and without company. Of course, that didn't stop Cas from sending his drunk ass out to sleep on the couch alone. But when he woke up, tired and hungover, Cas was always there. Pissed off and frustrated at Dean's admittedly childish behavior, but there. And if he was lucky, there with something greasy and delicious.

So he didn't go out with Bela, as much as his instincts maybe wanted him to. He didn’t need to drink right now. He needed to sleep. So he stripped down to his boxer briefs, crawled into his cold, empty bed, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

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

Some amount of time later, it couldn’t have been more than three or four hours, Dean slowly woke up to the feeling of kisses on his back and shoulders. He hummed quietly, fairly certain that he was dreaming. It was most definitely not Wednesday yet.

“Shhh, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

The deep voice made his heart thump excitedly, and he rolled over automatically. Sure enough Cas was behind him, fully clothed in Dean’s Motorhead shirt and looking outrageously tired. Dean just smiled and wrapped Cas up in his arms, too sleepy to even ask right away.

“My sun and stars,” he mumbled, kissing him thoroughly and pulling him tight against his chest.

“Moon of my life,” Cas smiled back, tugging lightly on Dean’s hair and running his nails along his scalp.

He slid his hands along Cas’ waist, pressing his thumbs against his hipbones. Cas hummed happily as Dean’s hands found their way under his shirt and up his back, nails dragging against the skin softly.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Cas managed between kisses, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I was getting on my plane, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“So you come home and wake me up in the middle of the fuckin’ night?”

Cas nipped at his bottom lip, scraping his teeth long Deans jaw.

“Your bare skin was everywhere. How was I supposed to resist? Besides,” he inhaled sharply as Dean’s hands found their way to the hem of his pants, his fingers sliding along the waistband. “I told you to go back to sleep.”

“No way,” Dean grumbled, rolling on top of Cas and sliding his jeans off of his body. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Is this your new kink?” Cas teased, a dirty smirk on his face.

“I dunno,” Dean mumbled, moving down his body, mouthing at Cas’ hipbones, kissing his inner-thighs. “I just wanna fuck you while you wear it. Does that count as a kink?”

“Mmmm. I’m going to have to say yes.”

“Damn,” he sighed, kissing his way up Cas’ body when the other boy tugged on his hair.

“Quit that,” Cas snapped, rolling on his side so they were laying next to each other. Dean settled his head on the same pillow where Cas had his, resting their foreheads together. “Tell me about your day.”

So he did, trying to describe Missouri but knowing that he was missing the mark. How was he supposed to describe just her presence? He told him all about little Hayley, which Cas just thought was absolutely hilarious and simultaneously really adorable. Dean blushed. A lot.

“Good to know not even a really pretty girl can steal you away from me,” he smirked, far too entertained.

“Count your blessings. Your turn. Why are you home so soon?”

“Are you not happy to see me?”

“Shut up,” Dean kissed the fake pout right off his face. “‘Course I am. But two days? How’d you swing that?”

“Joshua told me to go home and celebrate.”

Dean just raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“This little tiny magazine, they bought one of my pictures. It’s not for the cover or anything, but still. It’s a start.”

There was a shy sort of excitement in his eyes, and it made Dean’s heart race.

“Cas that’s—that’s incredible. That’s so amazing. That’s—wow.”

“So watch out. I’m going to be famous soon and you’ll have to fight off the fangirls. Just you wait.”

“Sure thing,” Dean laughed. “I, um, I’m really excited for you. Proud, I guess.”

Cas smiled, and Dean thought he might have seen his cheeks get a little bit pink in the darkness. Dean closed his eyes, trying his best to stifle the yawn he could feel coming on. He didn’t succeed.

“You should go back to sleep. It’s early.”

“When did you get responsible?” Dean grumbled, even as another gigantic yawn escaped his mouth.

“Responsible?” Cas slid closer, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and wedging a leg between his thighs. “Never. I just have a week to make up for. Can’t have you all tired.”

Dean hummed, trying valiantly to fight the sleepiness that was trying to drag him back under. The house was quiet and still, like they were the only ones in the whole world. The familiar warmth and smell of Cas in his arms settled the uneasiness in his stomach, the kind that he didn’t even know was there until it was gone.

“Let’s stay up.”

“And why should we do that?”

“Because I missed you.”

A brief something flashed across Cas’ eyes, but Dean was too sleepy to catch it. He did catch the small smile playing at the corners of his lips, as hard as Cas tried to keep it covered with sarcasm.

“We could make hot chocolate,” Dean murmured, kissing Cas softly while keeping their eyes locked together.

“You mean I can make hot chocolate. You always burn the milk.”

“That’s why I love you. You never burn the milk.”

“You’re ridiculous when you’re tired. Did you know that?”

Dean just grinned, blinking slowly and lazily. He knew as soon as Cas started throwing insults that he had him.

“Fine,” Cas sighed dramatically, untangling himself and climbing out of bed. “Let’s go, princess.”

Neither of them put any more clothes on, wandering into the tiny kitchen; Dean wearing just his underwear, Cas in his underwear and Dean’s t-shirt. Dean couldn’t stop staring as Cas gathered up ingredients, mixing them in a small pot on the stove. He padded over and wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist from behind, sliding his hands up underneath his shirt and settling them on his flat stomach, burying his nose in Cas’ neck underneath his ear.

“Hello Dean,” Cas murmured, the smile apparent in his voice.

“Hi.”

Cas started to hum softly, some unknown tune. Dean swayed slowly, moving both of their bodies just barely along with the rhythm of the song. Cas’ deep tone settled deep in his bones, wrapping him up in a cocoon in the silence of the early morning.

“You’re very distracting.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled, smiling against his skin. “Is this distracting?”

Dean pressed his lips to the skin of Cas’ neck, the slope of his shoulder, kissing and biting and tasting his tanned skin.

“Immensely,” Cas murmured, a soft sigh escaping his throat as he tilted his head just barely to the side, allowing Dean better access.

“This?”

Dean continued kissing him, using his hands on Cas’ hips to pull him tighter against his body, his erection pressing against Cas’ ass.

“Very.”

Somehow Cas was still stirring the pot, which Dean was half amazed at and half determined to do something about.

“What about this?”

He kept one hand on Cas’ hip, slipping the other underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Cas hissed as Dean wrapped a hand around his cock, sliding down the already hard length. Cas moaned loudly as Dean’s hand continued to move, dropping his head back onto Dean’s shoulder, his lips slightly parted.

“God you look so fucking hot,” Dean mumbled against his skin, his lips and teeth probably leaving lovely little marks all over Cas’ neck.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, his body leaning heavily against him. Dean was pretty sure the hand on his hip was one of the only reasons he was standing. “Babe…baby you gotta…mmmph…baby you gotta stop…”

Dean just nipped at his neck in response, squeezing tighter around his dick and making his back arch. Dean took a step back, pulling Cas with him, leaning his back against the other counter. Cas sagged against him, his moans becoming more and more insistent.

“Fuck, Dean…God yes fuck…mmmm…”

Cas’ body tensed up as he came, a long, low groan dragging out of his throat. Dean said a quick thanks, not for the first time, that they had this house to themselves. Dean nuzzled and kissed his neck while Cas rode out his orgasm, his free hand gently massaging circles into his hipbone.

There were a couple of blissful seconds before Dean found himself on the ground, his back up against the counter and Cas straddling his hips.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Cas growled, his hand tugging on Dean’s hair. His blue eyes were bright and brimming with lust, the dark tone of his voice making Dean’s stomach flutter. “Did you really just make me come in my fucking underwear like a goddamn fourteen-year-old?”

Dean grinned, his heart racing. Cas’ face was so close to his and he wanted to be kissing him so badly. "You didn't seem to mind."

“Two can play that game, Winchester.”

“Bring it on, Novak.”

One roll of Cas’ hips and Dean knew he was done for.

He tried over and over to capture Cas’ lips but the other boy never let him, the smirk on his face sending blood shooting through his veins like fire. Dean’s orgasm tore through him, way, way stronger than it should’ve been, all things considered.

And Cas kissed him while it burned through him, Dean’s moans lost in his mouth and his hands clutching at Cas’ back desperately.

Dean didn’t really know how long they stayed there, after that, kissing and touching each other like it was the last chance they’d ever get. Long enough, at least, for both of them to get hard again, and Dean couldn’t resist tugging on Cas’ hips and grinding their sensitive cocks together.

They mumbled words against each others’ lips, sometimes just a name, sometimes more, none of it making a lot of sense. But it didn’t really matter. They both knew what it meant.

Dean thought they could’ve stayed there for hours, that is until a strange smell floated into his nostrils.

“I think the milk is burning,” Cas mumbled, pulling barely away to make eye-contact with Dean. His blue eyes looked bleary and unfocused, his pupils so huge that the blue was almost entirely swallowed up.

“You burned the milk?” Dean smiled, tugging Cas closer.

“I burned the milk. I blame you.”

“Well, sorry. In that case, I don’t love you anymore.”

Cas kissed him hard, Dean’s mouth automatically opening for him.

“Shut up, punk.”

“Asshole.”

Cas finally stood up, much to Dean’s displeasure, dragging him up with him. Once they were standing, Dean noticed that the sun was coming up, and he couldn’t help but wince at the fact that he would have to go to class in a couple of hours.

Or maybe not. Maybe he would play sick today.

“C’mon,” Cas yawned, switching off the stove and reaching a hand out to Dean. “Deal with it tomorrow. Bed. Tired.”

Cas looked like he was about to drop dead from exhaustion, and Dean felt just about the same way. Bed definitely sounded like a good idea.

As Dean and Cas climbed into their bed together, a bed that had been theirs for two years already, Dean felt deliriously happy.

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

They shared this bed through college graduation, and in their new home. The same bed they sat in for hours and hours while Dean studied for his licensure exam, and Cas applied for jobs at different magazines all over the world. Cas slept in that bed alone the night of the fight, the one that Dean was sure would be the end. It was also where the fight ended, when Dean finally came home after three days and they had the best make-up sex of their lives.

This was where they stayed each time Cas got sick, and Dean had to take care of him because Cas was a huge baby about every little cold. It was the same bed where they spent lazy Sunday mornings, Dean bugging Cas to make hot chocolate or coffee for them in bed.

It was the bed they were in on one particular Sunday morning three years later, September 18th, when Dean woke up to Cas' big blue eyes staring straight into his soul. There was no big plan, no breakfast in bed or dramatic speech, just a simple statement.

"Marry me."

Dean was pissed because, well, he was supposed to be the one to ask and Cas accidentally beat him to it by two friggin' days. Typical. Although Cas, to his credit, went along with the plan when Dean took him out to the bluff and proposed under the stars two days later, fumbling over his words and blushing the entire time.

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

And so they sleepily made love in their bed that night, the smell of burnt milk floating through the house, both of them burning with exhaustion but not willing to sleep just yet, whispering meaningless words to each other as the sun rose and the rest of the world woke up around them.

Dean didn't know what might happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, or for the rest of their lives together. They were, after all, just making it up as they went along. But tonight...

Tonight was a start.