The Best Thing About College Is... Part IV
It’s two hours past closing. Dean was supposed to be at Jo’s party over an hour ago, but Cas is still frantically making notes in the margin of his giant textbook and Dean’s still trying to get on Cas’s good side. Cas still hasn’t so much as glanced at him since the day they came home to find Sam and Gabe... Well Dean’s not thinking about that right now. He looks at Cas, really looks, and is struck once again by how tired Cas looks. He’s even paler than usual, and he’s grown a fine black stubble across his jaw. It’s obvious to Dean that he never took Dean’s advice; he looks like he hasn’t taken a break in months. Dean decides that Cas is getting some rest tonight, even if it does land Dean even further into Cas’s bad side. He marches over to the table and snaps Cas’s book out of his hands and into Cas’s bag, which he throws over his shoulder.
“C’mon. We’re going home. No arguing.” Dean doesn’t give Cas a chance to answer, just turns and goes to hold the front door open expectantly. Cas rubs his eyes for a moment before slowly standing and walking out. He waits as Dean locks the door and falls into step beside him as they make their way down the dark street. Dean keeps throwing Cas furtive glances, trying to see if Cas is mad that Dean made him leave, but Cas is staring down at his feet as they walk.
“So what’re you working on?” Dean asks, keeping his voice casual, as if this isn’t the first time they’ve spoken in weeks.
“Research,” Cas answers simply, and Dean doesn’t try talking again until they’re walking into the silent apartment. Dean wonders momentarily where Sam and Gabe are, decides he doesn’t want to know, and turns to find Cas staring at him expectantly. When Dean just blinks at him, Cas holds out his hand.
“You have my books.”
Dean looks at the bag at his side in surprise, then at Cas’s hand, then shakes his head.
“Nope. You’re done with research tonight. You need to do something else for a change, Cas.” Dean says, not handing the bag over. Cas looks like he’s about to argue, then he heaves a sigh and shakes his head.
“You’re right. I need a distraction,” Cas says, and stands in the entryway like he’s waiting for Dean to say something. “What should I do?” he finally asks.
Dean laughs.
“Whatever you wanna do. You want a beer? You wanna watch some TV?” Dean walks into the living room, dropping Cas’s books onto the table and opening the fridge.
“We could get high,” comes Cas’s reply, and Dean spins so fast the room sways.
“We?” is the first word out of his mouth, and when Cas flinches, Dean quickly tries to backpedal. “I mean yeah, we could do that. I don’t have any weed though. Do you even smoke?” Dean’s talking too fast, trying to get past the awkward moment. Cas hesitates for a moment before answering.
“I haven’t in a while. We can take Gabriel’s, he won’t mind. We should do it on the roof though, we aren’t supposed to smoke inside.”
The “roof” Cas is referring to turns out to be the overhang that covers their parking spaces. It’s accessible through both Dean and Cas’s windows, so Cas gets the weed while Dean grabs a couple of blankets and a pillow. It’s cold out, Dean can see his breath in the moonlight, but neither of them seem to mind. Cas rolls a couple of joints while Dean watches him, strangely fascinated by his deft fingers and sure movements.
Dean wants to apologize, but more than anything he wants to stay out here with Cas and smoke the weed and see what happens, so he doesn’t say a word, just takes the proffered joint that Cas holds out to him and puts it between his lips. Cas lights it for him and Dean inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs and relishes the burn in his throat. He takes another hit before handing it to Cas. The buzz is already settling over him as he watches Cas take the joint and inhale deeply. He gives a small half-cough as he exhales, and stares at the joint contemplatively before taking another hit.
When Dean gets the joint back, the tip is slightly damp from Cas’s mouth and Dean wants to taste it. He doesn’t, just takes another lungful and holds it in, marvelling at the way the smoke curls through the air when he exhales slowly. He hands the joint over to Cas right away this time and doesn’t disguise his interest as he watches Cas’s lips close over the it, catching a little on the damp paper. Dean can feel Cas watching him, but he can’t tear his eyes away from those pink lips opening, the steady stream of smoke passing between them to rise and disperse.
Cas offers the joint to Dean and gently puts it out when Dean shakes his head. They sigh in unison and lie back, Dean enjoying the pleasant fuzziness and the way he’s suddenly comfortable, at ease around Cas for the first time. He turns to tell him so and sees Cas shiver in spite of his thick sweater. Dean quickly flicks one of the blankets over them, lying close to Cas so they both fit under it.
“Do you think I’m an asshole, Cas?” Dean asks, the question surprising himself as much as Cas. He hadn’t known what he was going to say until the words left him, but he can’t seem to work up the effort to be worried. He stares up at the stars while he waits for Cas to answer, thinking that the way they twinkle is especially friendly tonight. He giggles a little at the thought, then quickly straightens his face as Cas speaks.
“No. I don’t think that. I think you’re... you’re not what I expected.” Cas says, and when Dean sneaks a glance at him he sees Cas’s brow is furrowed in concentration, like he’s really thinking about how best to explain. “When we met - when you hit me -”
“I’m sorry,” Dean interjects, then quiets when Cas holds up his hand.
“I know why you did it. You shouldn’t have hit me, but I understand now, how you feel about your brother, how angry you were. You’re very protective of those you care for, Dean.” Cas says it like praise, and Dean relaxes. He rolls onto his side to face Cas.
“So why didn’t you ever talk to me?” Dean asks, keeping the plaintive note out of his voice. Cas turns to him in surprise before looking back up at the sky to answer.
“Dean, you made it quite clear from the beginning that I wasn’t to speak to you. I suppose... somewhere along the way that changed. But then, when we... Well, it seemed very clear to me that you didn’t want anything to do with me, especially when we were home. So I’ve been trying to stay out of your way. I know it must be difficult to live with people you can’t stand, so I thought I’d make it easier.”
Guilt roils in Dean’s belly and he cringes at Cas’s words. He already knew this, but he’d assumed Cas hated him. Somehow that would have made it better, made Dean less of a complete asshole for treating him this way.
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers, and Cas sighs and turns to face him.
“It’s alright.” It might sound trite from someone else, but the way Cas says it leaves no doubt in Dean’s mind that it’s the truth. They lie in silence for moment before Dean finds himself giving voice to something else that’s been bothering him.
“Gabriel broke up with Sam.”
Castiel nods.
“Sam says it’s not my fault, but...”
“Dean, my brother hasn’t had a lasting relationship in years. Sam makes him want to... commit.”
Cas chuckles a little at Dean’s raised eyebrows.
“Not only to their relationship. Gabriel’s been talking about going back to school, maybe keeping a steady job. Sam’s good for him.”
“Then why...?”
“It scares him, I think. Gabriel assumes that if Sam’s good for him, he must be bad for Sam. Or something like that. Gabriel’s never really thought highly of himself. I expect it has to do with our parents. He’s never lived up to their expectations, not that he should of course, but...”
“Is that what you’re doing? Living up to their expectations?” Dean watches Castiel’s expression turn to surprise, then amusement.
“I suppose, in a way, yes. I’ve never excelled at sports like Michael, or had the kind of charisma that’ll take Luci to the White House. My studies are my path to the kind of success my parents can appreciate... And, of course, they present a good distraction.”
“From what?”
Castiel smiles wryly. “Everything.”
Dean frowns. He’s not exactly sure what Castiel means, but he can think of plenty of other distractions Castiel could indulge in. He opens his mouth to say so and hears the front door open and shut, heavy footsteps leading to Sam’s room.
“I’m just gonna--” Dean starts, but Castiel is already nodding and sitting up.
“Of course. I’ll clean up out here.”
Dean shoots him one last regretful look before climbing back in through the window.
***
Dean tracks Gabriel down at the diner the next day. He’d had to ask Castiel where his brother worked, and Cas had given him this little concerned head tilt, as if Dean were going to go down there and start a fight. He’s still not entirely sure he’s not going to-- a couple of days is a short time to be letting go of months of resentment.
The diner’s nearly empty, just an old man and his coffee at the counter and pale, thin sunlight streaming in through dirty windows. Dean makes his way to the counter and asks after Gabriel. The tired-looking woman with bleach-fried hair points him to the kitchen with frighteningly long nails. Dean ignores her aggressively popped bubble gum and heads through the doorway.
The kitchen is almost as empty as the dining room. There’s no chef in sight, just Gabriel washing dishes at a huge sink. Dean hesitates long enough for Gabriel to spot him when he turns to grab another stack of plates.
“Hi,” Gabriel says warily. Dean offers an awkward wave, then jerks his head toward a door he assumes leads out back.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. Let me just...” Gabriel dries his hands on his apron and leads Dean out back. Dean notes that he looks more subdued than usual, both in posture and in dress. He’s wearing plain black pants under the apron, a grey shirt above, no bright colors to be seen. Dean wonders if it’s because he’s working or because he’s as miserable as Sam.
“So. You gonna tell me again how I better stay the hell away from your little brother? ‘Cause I gotta say, I think the message got through loud and clear last time,” Gabriel starts, leaning back against the wall. He’s watching Dean cautiously, but also curiously, like he doesn’t really think Dean is here to fight.
“No, I’m here to tell you to get your head out of your ass.” Dean thinks maybe he could have worded that a touch more politely, but then again, this is the guy making Sam mope around like someone stole his puppy.
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel asks, obviously confused.
“Sam. You and Sam. He’s obviously the best thing you’re ever gonna get, and you’re just throwing that away. ‘Cause you’re an idiot,” Dean adds, like an afterthought. Gabriel blinks at him.
“Thought you didn’t want me anywhere near him.”
“Yeah, well, that’s when I thought you were a creep. Now I know you’re not, and you’re making Sam miserable, and you’re making yourself miserable, and--”
“I’m doing this for Sam! I don’t want to-- to be holding him back. He’s eighteen years old and he could pretty much do anything he wanted at this point. I’m twenty-seven years old, Dean, and I’m not going anywhere. This is for the best.” Gabriel starts to push away from the wall, turning to go back inside, but Dean grabs his shoulder and pushes him back up against the brick.
“You’re the least mature twenty-seven year old I know, and my brother is so responsible he’s practically middle-aged. You’re perfect for each other.” Gabriel opens his mouth to argue, but Dean keeps going. “You make him have fun. He makes you wanna be stable, get somewhere in life. How is any of that a bad thing?”
Gabriel’s mouth slowly closes. He looks puzzled for a moment, then narrows his eyebrows at Dean.
“Have you been talking to my brother?” He looks so accusing that Dean almost wants to laugh at the sheer irony.
“That’s not the point here. You think about what I said about Sam, got it?”
Gabriel nods, still eyeing Dean suspiciously. Dean turns to walk away, but Gabriel stops him.
“Hey Dean. You mess with my little brother, I’ll hunt you down and... well, I probably won’t kick your ass.” Gabriel winks at him and disappears back into the diner, leaving Dean standing in the alley.
***
Dean stares out at the pouring rain through the glass doors as he switches the sign from “Open” to “Closed”. The café is completely empty, no quiet page-turning or pen scribbling from the corner table Dean secretly refers to as "Cas's spot".
Dean spoke to Gabriel three days ago, and since then, he hasn't heard anything new from Sam. It seems as though Gabriel decided not to take Dean's advice after all. He can't help the twinge at the thought of Sam, sad and frustrated, having to live one room away from Gabriel for the rest of the year. Dean goes to clean the espresso machine while he tries to decide if it makes sense for them to find a new place. Maybe... Maybe if Sam gets a job, or if Dean takes on more hours, they'll be able to afford a place for just the two of them.
The door rattles behind Dean and he turns to see Castiel stumbling in from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, coat slick with rain. His pale skin is wet, water running down his temples and over his lips in rivulets, and Dean's speechless for a moment. It doesn't help that Cas is grinning, his eyes alight with a feverish energy.
"I quit the TA position," Castiel announces, dropping his bag and walking straight towards Dean. "You were right, it was too much."
Cas is only a few feet away from Dean and he still hasn't found a way to respond. It doesn't seem to matter, because the next moment, Cas is right there, barely inches away, still smiling up at Dean like they're celebrating something only the two of them know about.
"Besides," Castiel adds, leaning ever closer, "I don't want anything distracting me from this."
Cas's lips are wet and so cool Dean finds himself pressing closer, harder, sucking Castiel's bottom lip into his mouth to bring forth some warmth. He bites gently and is rewarded with the most delicious whimper, quickly followed by Castiel's body, chest to hips, crushing against his. Dean almost stumbles, but manages to catch himself and bring his arms up to wrap around Cas, one hand running over wet fabric to slide his fingers through silky, soaked hair.
Cas kisses like he's lost awareness of everything else, like Dean's the only thing that exists anymore and the way he clings to Dean's dark uniform has Dean grinding against him, struggling to get ever closer, ever tighter against him.
They break the kiss to breathe, Cas's grey blue eyes dark and hungry on Dean's mouth. He lifts his gaze to scan Dean's face, like he's making sure this is acceptable, that Dean isn't going to suddenly change his mind. Dean smiles at him.
"Yeah," he replies to Castiel's wordless question, and tugs him toward the break room.
Dean tries to pull Cas onto the ugly green couch with him, but Cas wriggles out of his grasp and pushes him down.
"I'm getting cold in these," Cas says, gesturing to his wet clothes. He slides out of his coat and folds it over the back of a nearby chair, then turns back to Dean as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Dean opens and closes his mouth, sure he should be saying something, offering to help. He doesn't, just watches as deft, nimble fingers reveal clean, pale skin over graceful collarbones. By the time Cas's shirt is open from neck to waist, Dean's heart is thudding so hard he feels it in his throat. Castiel slips off his shirt and puts it aside. He turns back to Dean and gives him a soft smile, almost reassuring, before dropping his hands to his belt. Dean swallows hard.
Cas leaves his underwear on, which is probably good since Dean's not sure his blood pressure can take it. Dean reaches for Cas and he comes, climbs right into Dean's lap and drops his lips to Dean's with a quiet sigh. Dean's hands find their way to Cas's slim waist, the skin still wet and so, so soft. Castiel's briefs aren’t drenched like his outer clothes were, but they are a little damp, and clinging to Cas's skin in a way that has Dean pulling away from the kiss just to run his gaze down Cas's body. Castiel lets him look, completely unashamed.
Dean watches his own hands, big and dark with freckles, run over Cas's body, up from his hip to stroke along his jaw and back down again, past the obvious erection to grip Cas's thigh. Cas leans into the touch, pressing against Dean's palms like he can't get close enough, like he wants more, and Dean tugs him back down with a growl. Castiel's kisses are growing deeper, his movements sharper, hips rolling against Dean's more deliberately. Dean feels slim fingers on the button of his pants, then inside, dipping down to free his cock. He gasps into Castiel's mouth when Cas's hand tightens around him, a few slow pulls and then Cas is slipping his own underwear down, grinding their cocks together.
Dean drops his gaze to watch as Castiel strokes them together, gathering precome and slicking both their lengths. Castiel lets out a sharp moan when Dean brings his own hand to tangle with Cas's, both of them stroking together, tighter, faster, and Cas's hips are moving so sinuously above Dean, his body twisting and curling and captivating. Dean can't tear his eyes away, can't settle on one place to look: their cocks, sliding together through their interlocked fingers, the blush creeping up Cas's chest and along his cheeks, Cas's mouth, bitten red and swollen, lips parted as he pants. Castiel's eyes are on his, dark and desperate, and when Dean meets his gaze Cas bites his lips and comes, hips stuttering into Dean's grip. The sight alone would be enough to throw Dean over the edge, but the hot slick of Castiel's come all over Dean's cock and fist certainly doesn’t hurt. Dean tries to keep his eyes open as he comes, doesn't want to miss a moment of Castiel above him like this, messy and wet and so incredibly hot, but he finds himself lost in white hot pleasure.
When he opens his eyes, Cas is still in his lap, curled down to rest his head on Dean's chest. Dean wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. It’s not until Cas starts to shiver that Dean remembers where they are. He rolls Cas off of him and goes to his locker to find his spare change of clothes.
“Wanna go home?” Dean asks as he throws Cas the clothes. Castiel’s muffled yes from beneath the shirt he’s pulling on makes Dean smile softly. He quickly schools his expression into something a little less sappy in time to see Cas’s now-dry hair, sticking up in every direction, emerge from the neck.
Dean grabs his bag and waits for Castiel at the door. The sight of Cas, lips still red, cheeks still pink, hair still mussed and wearing Dean’s shirt and pants leaves Dean a little breathless, just for a moment. He recovers well, he thinks, holding open the door and offering his umbrella.
He expects the walk home to be awkward, but it’s not. The rain is coming down too hard to really hold a conversation, so they huddle under the umbrella and speed-walk down the streets. Dean holds the umbrella while Cas gets his keys and they both stumble into the hallway, dropping shoes and coats and scrambling down the hall neither of them even bothering to check if anyone else is home.
Cas pulls Dean into his room and Dean goes willingly, lets Cas tug off his shirt and pants, returning the favor. They tumble into Castiel’s bed and Dean can’t think of a single reason not to wrap himself around Cas and make out like teenagers until they pass out.
***
There's a soft knock, then Gabriel's voice on the other side of the door.
"Hey Sam? I made some food, you want some?"
Sam hesitates. This must be the token "let's be friends" gesture. Well, Sam's hungry and it does smell amazing. Lasagna, he guesses, and is reminded (painfully) of their first meal together.
"Yeah, be right out."
When he walks into the kitchen, Gabriel's just pulling the dish out of the oven. Sam was right: bubbly cheese, garlic and onion in the tomato sauce, perfectly crispy edges... Gabriel does make the best lasagna.
"So," Gabriel starts as he spoons a serving onto a plate for Sam. "I wanted to apologize."
Sam waits a beat.
"For what?"
"Well, everything, really. I thought... Well I still sort of think I'm probably not the best person for you. Your brother and Cas think I'm okay, now, but---"
"Yeah, because it's definitely their business," Sam interjects, glaring at Gabriel.
"No, I know, it's not. That's what I wanted to tell you. It's not up to them who's good enough for you or not. It's not even up to me. I guess I was trying to protect you or something, and so was Dean, but you should be allowed to make these decisions for yourself. And I didn't let you do that, I decided for you. That's what I'm apologizing for. And also for being a dick about us getting together in the first place."
Sam stares at him. He would've thought hearing all this would bring him some kind of satisfaction, knowing that he was right, but it doesn't. Nothing's changed.
"Okay. Well, I guess I'm glad you figured it out. Is that all?" Sam asks, abandoning his lasagna, the pit in his stomach heavy enough as it is. Gabriel stares.
"Well... Yeah. I mean, obviously, if that's not... if you don't want to..." Gabriel looks flustered, at a loss for words, and it's such an unexpected sight that Sam pauses.
"What? If I don't want to what?"
Gabriel swallows and shrugs, trying for casual and failing spectacularly.
"If you don't want to be with me. That's cool, I mean, like I said, it's up to you, but..."
Sam takes a step forward, then another.
"What are you saying, Gabe? You ended it, right?" Sam asks. He's starting to get it, though, what Gabriel wants. Doesn't mean he's going to make it easy for him. Gabriel squares his shoulders and meets Sam's eye.
"I'm saying I want to be with you. Date. And stuff. If you want."
It's not smooth, nothing like Gabriel's usual ease, but it makes Sam grin all the same.
"Yeah. Yeah, I want."
***
“C’mon. We’re going home. No arguing.” Dean doesn’t give Cas a chance to answer, just turns and goes to hold the front door open expectantly. Cas rubs his eyes for a moment before slowly standing and walking out. He waits as Dean locks the door and falls into step beside him as they make their way down the dark street. Dean keeps throwing Cas furtive glances, trying to see if Cas is mad that Dean made him leave, but Cas is staring down at his feet as they walk.
“So what’re you working on?” Dean asks, keeping his voice casual, as if this isn’t the first time they’ve spoken in weeks.
“Research,” Cas answers simply, and Dean doesn’t try talking again until they’re walking into the silent apartment. Dean wonders momentarily where Sam and Gabe are, decides he doesn’t want to know, and turns to find Cas staring at him expectantly. When Dean just blinks at him, Cas holds out his hand.
“You have my books.”
Dean looks at the bag at his side in surprise, then at Cas’s hand, then shakes his head.
“Nope. You’re done with research tonight. You need to do something else for a change, Cas.” Dean says, not handing the bag over. Cas looks like he’s about to argue, then he heaves a sigh and shakes his head.
“You’re right. I need a distraction,” Cas says, and stands in the entryway like he’s waiting for Dean to say something. “What should I do?” he finally asks.
Dean laughs.
“Whatever you wanna do. You want a beer? You wanna watch some TV?” Dean walks into the living room, dropping Cas’s books onto the table and opening the fridge.
“We could get high,” comes Cas’s reply, and Dean spins so fast the room sways.
“We?” is the first word out of his mouth, and when Cas flinches, Dean quickly tries to backpedal. “I mean yeah, we could do that. I don’t have any weed though. Do you even smoke?” Dean’s talking too fast, trying to get past the awkward moment. Cas hesitates for a moment before answering.
“I haven’t in a while. We can take Gabriel’s, he won’t mind. We should do it on the roof though, we aren’t supposed to smoke inside.”
The “roof” Cas is referring to turns out to be the overhang that covers their parking spaces. It’s accessible through both Dean and Cas’s windows, so Cas gets the weed while Dean grabs a couple of blankets and a pillow. It’s cold out, Dean can see his breath in the moonlight, but neither of them seem to mind. Cas rolls a couple of joints while Dean watches him, strangely fascinated by his deft fingers and sure movements.
Dean wants to apologize, but more than anything he wants to stay out here with Cas and smoke the weed and see what happens, so he doesn’t say a word, just takes the proffered joint that Cas holds out to him and puts it between his lips. Cas lights it for him and Dean inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs and relishes the burn in his throat. He takes another hit before handing it to Cas. The buzz is already settling over him as he watches Cas take the joint and inhale deeply. He gives a small half-cough as he exhales, and stares at the joint contemplatively before taking another hit.
When Dean gets the joint back, the tip is slightly damp from Cas’s mouth and Dean wants to taste it. He doesn’t, just takes another lungful and holds it in, marvelling at the way the smoke curls through the air when he exhales slowly. He hands the joint over to Cas right away this time and doesn’t disguise his interest as he watches Cas’s lips close over the it, catching a little on the damp paper. Dean can feel Cas watching him, but he can’t tear his eyes away from those pink lips opening, the steady stream of smoke passing between them to rise and disperse.
Cas offers the joint to Dean and gently puts it out when Dean shakes his head. They sigh in unison and lie back, Dean enjoying the pleasant fuzziness and the way he’s suddenly comfortable, at ease around Cas for the first time. He turns to tell him so and sees Cas shiver in spite of his thick sweater. Dean quickly flicks one of the blankets over them, lying close to Cas so they both fit under it.
“Do you think I’m an asshole, Cas?” Dean asks, the question surprising himself as much as Cas. He hadn’t known what he was going to say until the words left him, but he can’t seem to work up the effort to be worried. He stares up at the stars while he waits for Cas to answer, thinking that the way they twinkle is especially friendly tonight. He giggles a little at the thought, then quickly straightens his face as Cas speaks.
“No. I don’t think that. I think you’re... you’re not what I expected.” Cas says, and when Dean sneaks a glance at him he sees Cas’s brow is furrowed in concentration, like he’s really thinking about how best to explain. “When we met - when you hit me -”
“I’m sorry,” Dean interjects, then quiets when Cas holds up his hand.
“I know why you did it. You shouldn’t have hit me, but I understand now, how you feel about your brother, how angry you were. You’re very protective of those you care for, Dean.” Cas says it like praise, and Dean relaxes. He rolls onto his side to face Cas.
“So why didn’t you ever talk to me?” Dean asks, keeping the plaintive note out of his voice. Cas turns to him in surprise before looking back up at the sky to answer.
“Dean, you made it quite clear from the beginning that I wasn’t to speak to you. I suppose... somewhere along the way that changed. But then, when we... Well, it seemed very clear to me that you didn’t want anything to do with me, especially when we were home. So I’ve been trying to stay out of your way. I know it must be difficult to live with people you can’t stand, so I thought I’d make it easier.”
Guilt roils in Dean’s belly and he cringes at Cas’s words. He already knew this, but he’d assumed Cas hated him. Somehow that would have made it better, made Dean less of a complete asshole for treating him this way.
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers, and Cas sighs and turns to face him.
“It’s alright.” It might sound trite from someone else, but the way Cas says it leaves no doubt in Dean’s mind that it’s the truth. They lie in silence for moment before Dean finds himself giving voice to something else that’s been bothering him.
“Gabriel broke up with Sam.”
Castiel nods.
“Sam says it’s not my fault, but...”
“Dean, my brother hasn’t had a lasting relationship in years. Sam makes him want to... commit.”
Cas chuckles a little at Dean’s raised eyebrows.
“Not only to their relationship. Gabriel’s been talking about going back to school, maybe keeping a steady job. Sam’s good for him.”
“Then why...?”
“It scares him, I think. Gabriel assumes that if Sam’s good for him, he must be bad for Sam. Or something like that. Gabriel’s never really thought highly of himself. I expect it has to do with our parents. He’s never lived up to their expectations, not that he should of course, but...”
“Is that what you’re doing? Living up to their expectations?” Dean watches Castiel’s expression turn to surprise, then amusement.
“I suppose, in a way, yes. I’ve never excelled at sports like Michael, or had the kind of charisma that’ll take Luci to the White House. My studies are my path to the kind of success my parents can appreciate... And, of course, they present a good distraction.”
“From what?”
Castiel smiles wryly. “Everything.”
Dean frowns. He’s not exactly sure what Castiel means, but he can think of plenty of other distractions Castiel could indulge in. He opens his mouth to say so and hears the front door open and shut, heavy footsteps leading to Sam’s room.
“I’m just gonna--” Dean starts, but Castiel is already nodding and sitting up.
“Of course. I’ll clean up out here.”
Dean shoots him one last regretful look before climbing back in through the window.
***
Dean tracks Gabriel down at the diner the next day. He’d had to ask Castiel where his brother worked, and Cas had given him this little concerned head tilt, as if Dean were going to go down there and start a fight. He’s still not entirely sure he’s not going to-- a couple of days is a short time to be letting go of months of resentment.
The diner’s nearly empty, just an old man and his coffee at the counter and pale, thin sunlight streaming in through dirty windows. Dean makes his way to the counter and asks after Gabriel. The tired-looking woman with bleach-fried hair points him to the kitchen with frighteningly long nails. Dean ignores her aggressively popped bubble gum and heads through the doorway.
The kitchen is almost as empty as the dining room. There’s no chef in sight, just Gabriel washing dishes at a huge sink. Dean hesitates long enough for Gabriel to spot him when he turns to grab another stack of plates.
“Hi,” Gabriel says warily. Dean offers an awkward wave, then jerks his head toward a door he assumes leads out back.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. Let me just...” Gabriel dries his hands on his apron and leads Dean out back. Dean notes that he looks more subdued than usual, both in posture and in dress. He’s wearing plain black pants under the apron, a grey shirt above, no bright colors to be seen. Dean wonders if it’s because he’s working or because he’s as miserable as Sam.
“So. You gonna tell me again how I better stay the hell away from your little brother? ‘Cause I gotta say, I think the message got through loud and clear last time,” Gabriel starts, leaning back against the wall. He’s watching Dean cautiously, but also curiously, like he doesn’t really think Dean is here to fight.
“No, I’m here to tell you to get your head out of your ass.” Dean thinks maybe he could have worded that a touch more politely, but then again, this is the guy making Sam mope around like someone stole his puppy.
“What are you talking about?” Gabriel asks, obviously confused.
“Sam. You and Sam. He’s obviously the best thing you’re ever gonna get, and you’re just throwing that away. ‘Cause you’re an idiot,” Dean adds, like an afterthought. Gabriel blinks at him.
“Thought you didn’t want me anywhere near him.”
“Yeah, well, that’s when I thought you were a creep. Now I know you’re not, and you’re making Sam miserable, and you’re making yourself miserable, and--”
“I’m doing this for Sam! I don’t want to-- to be holding him back. He’s eighteen years old and he could pretty much do anything he wanted at this point. I’m twenty-seven years old, Dean, and I’m not going anywhere. This is for the best.” Gabriel starts to push away from the wall, turning to go back inside, but Dean grabs his shoulder and pushes him back up against the brick.
“You’re the least mature twenty-seven year old I know, and my brother is so responsible he’s practically middle-aged. You’re perfect for each other.” Gabriel opens his mouth to argue, but Dean keeps going. “You make him have fun. He makes you wanna be stable, get somewhere in life. How is any of that a bad thing?”
Gabriel’s mouth slowly closes. He looks puzzled for a moment, then narrows his eyebrows at Dean.
“Have you been talking to my brother?” He looks so accusing that Dean almost wants to laugh at the sheer irony.
“That’s not the point here. You think about what I said about Sam, got it?”
Gabriel nods, still eyeing Dean suspiciously. Dean turns to walk away, but Gabriel stops him.
“Hey Dean. You mess with my little brother, I’ll hunt you down and... well, I probably won’t kick your ass.” Gabriel winks at him and disappears back into the diner, leaving Dean standing in the alley.
***
Dean stares out at the pouring rain through the glass doors as he switches the sign from “Open” to “Closed”. The café is completely empty, no quiet page-turning or pen scribbling from the corner table Dean secretly refers to as "Cas's spot".
Dean spoke to Gabriel three days ago, and since then, he hasn't heard anything new from Sam. It seems as though Gabriel decided not to take Dean's advice after all. He can't help the twinge at the thought of Sam, sad and frustrated, having to live one room away from Gabriel for the rest of the year. Dean goes to clean the espresso machine while he tries to decide if it makes sense for them to find a new place. Maybe... Maybe if Sam gets a job, or if Dean takes on more hours, they'll be able to afford a place for just the two of them.
The door rattles behind Dean and he turns to see Castiel stumbling in from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, coat slick with rain. His pale skin is wet, water running down his temples and over his lips in rivulets, and Dean's speechless for a moment. It doesn't help that Cas is grinning, his eyes alight with a feverish energy.
"I quit the TA position," Castiel announces, dropping his bag and walking straight towards Dean. "You were right, it was too much."
Cas is only a few feet away from Dean and he still hasn't found a way to respond. It doesn't seem to matter, because the next moment, Cas is right there, barely inches away, still smiling up at Dean like they're celebrating something only the two of them know about.
"Besides," Castiel adds, leaning ever closer, "I don't want anything distracting me from this."
Cas's lips are wet and so cool Dean finds himself pressing closer, harder, sucking Castiel's bottom lip into his mouth to bring forth some warmth. He bites gently and is rewarded with the most delicious whimper, quickly followed by Castiel's body, chest to hips, crushing against his. Dean almost stumbles, but manages to catch himself and bring his arms up to wrap around Cas, one hand running over wet fabric to slide his fingers through silky, soaked hair.
Cas kisses like he's lost awareness of everything else, like Dean's the only thing that exists anymore and the way he clings to Dean's dark uniform has Dean grinding against him, struggling to get ever closer, ever tighter against him.
They break the kiss to breathe, Cas's grey blue eyes dark and hungry on Dean's mouth. He lifts his gaze to scan Dean's face, like he's making sure this is acceptable, that Dean isn't going to suddenly change his mind. Dean smiles at him.
"Yeah," he replies to Castiel's wordless question, and tugs him toward the break room.
Dean tries to pull Cas onto the ugly green couch with him, but Cas wriggles out of his grasp and pushes him down.
"I'm getting cold in these," Cas says, gesturing to his wet clothes. He slides out of his coat and folds it over the back of a nearby chair, then turns back to Dean as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Dean opens and closes his mouth, sure he should be saying something, offering to help. He doesn't, just watches as deft, nimble fingers reveal clean, pale skin over graceful collarbones. By the time Cas's shirt is open from neck to waist, Dean's heart is thudding so hard he feels it in his throat. Castiel slips off his shirt and puts it aside. He turns back to Dean and gives him a soft smile, almost reassuring, before dropping his hands to his belt. Dean swallows hard.
Cas leaves his underwear on, which is probably good since Dean's not sure his blood pressure can take it. Dean reaches for Cas and he comes, climbs right into Dean's lap and drops his lips to Dean's with a quiet sigh. Dean's hands find their way to Cas's slim waist, the skin still wet and so, so soft. Castiel's briefs aren’t drenched like his outer clothes were, but they are a little damp, and clinging to Cas's skin in a way that has Dean pulling away from the kiss just to run his gaze down Cas's body. Castiel lets him look, completely unashamed.
Dean watches his own hands, big and dark with freckles, run over Cas's body, up from his hip to stroke along his jaw and back down again, past the obvious erection to grip Cas's thigh. Cas leans into the touch, pressing against Dean's palms like he can't get close enough, like he wants more, and Dean tugs him back down with a growl. Castiel's kisses are growing deeper, his movements sharper, hips rolling against Dean's more deliberately. Dean feels slim fingers on the button of his pants, then inside, dipping down to free his cock. He gasps into Castiel's mouth when Cas's hand tightens around him, a few slow pulls and then Cas is slipping his own underwear down, grinding their cocks together.
Dean drops his gaze to watch as Castiel strokes them together, gathering precome and slicking both their lengths. Castiel lets out a sharp moan when Dean brings his own hand to tangle with Cas's, both of them stroking together, tighter, faster, and Cas's hips are moving so sinuously above Dean, his body twisting and curling and captivating. Dean can't tear his eyes away, can't settle on one place to look: their cocks, sliding together through their interlocked fingers, the blush creeping up Cas's chest and along his cheeks, Cas's mouth, bitten red and swollen, lips parted as he pants. Castiel's eyes are on his, dark and desperate, and when Dean meets his gaze Cas bites his lips and comes, hips stuttering into Dean's grip. The sight alone would be enough to throw Dean over the edge, but the hot slick of Castiel's come all over Dean's cock and fist certainly doesn’t hurt. Dean tries to keep his eyes open as he comes, doesn't want to miss a moment of Castiel above him like this, messy and wet and so incredibly hot, but he finds himself lost in white hot pleasure.
When he opens his eyes, Cas is still in his lap, curled down to rest his head on Dean's chest. Dean wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. It’s not until Cas starts to shiver that Dean remembers where they are. He rolls Cas off of him and goes to his locker to find his spare change of clothes.
“Wanna go home?” Dean asks as he throws Cas the clothes. Castiel’s muffled yes from beneath the shirt he’s pulling on makes Dean smile softly. He quickly schools his expression into something a little less sappy in time to see Cas’s now-dry hair, sticking up in every direction, emerge from the neck.
Dean grabs his bag and waits for Castiel at the door. The sight of Cas, lips still red, cheeks still pink, hair still mussed and wearing Dean’s shirt and pants leaves Dean a little breathless, just for a moment. He recovers well, he thinks, holding open the door and offering his umbrella.
He expects the walk home to be awkward, but it’s not. The rain is coming down too hard to really hold a conversation, so they huddle under the umbrella and speed-walk down the streets. Dean holds the umbrella while Cas gets his keys and they both stumble into the hallway, dropping shoes and coats and scrambling down the hall neither of them even bothering to check if anyone else is home.
Cas pulls Dean into his room and Dean goes willingly, lets Cas tug off his shirt and pants, returning the favor. They tumble into Castiel’s bed and Dean can’t think of a single reason not to wrap himself around Cas and make out like teenagers until they pass out.
***
There's a soft knock, then Gabriel's voice on the other side of the door.
"Hey Sam? I made some food, you want some?"
Sam hesitates. This must be the token "let's be friends" gesture. Well, Sam's hungry and it does smell amazing. Lasagna, he guesses, and is reminded (painfully) of their first meal together.
"Yeah, be right out."
When he walks into the kitchen, Gabriel's just pulling the dish out of the oven. Sam was right: bubbly cheese, garlic and onion in the tomato sauce, perfectly crispy edges... Gabriel does make the best lasagna.
"So," Gabriel starts as he spoons a serving onto a plate for Sam. "I wanted to apologize."
Sam waits a beat.
"For what?"
"Well, everything, really. I thought... Well I still sort of think I'm probably not the best person for you. Your brother and Cas think I'm okay, now, but---"
"Yeah, because it's definitely their business," Sam interjects, glaring at Gabriel.
"No, I know, it's not. That's what I wanted to tell you. It's not up to them who's good enough for you or not. It's not even up to me. I guess I was trying to protect you or something, and so was Dean, but you should be allowed to make these decisions for yourself. And I didn't let you do that, I decided for you. That's what I'm apologizing for. And also for being a dick about us getting together in the first place."
Sam stares at him. He would've thought hearing all this would bring him some kind of satisfaction, knowing that he was right, but it doesn't. Nothing's changed.
"Okay. Well, I guess I'm glad you figured it out. Is that all?" Sam asks, abandoning his lasagna, the pit in his stomach heavy enough as it is. Gabriel stares.
"Well... Yeah. I mean, obviously, if that's not... if you don't want to..." Gabriel looks flustered, at a loss for words, and it's such an unexpected sight that Sam pauses.
"What? If I don't want to what?"
Gabriel swallows and shrugs, trying for casual and failing spectacularly.
"If you don't want to be with me. That's cool, I mean, like I said, it's up to you, but..."
Sam takes a step forward, then another.
"What are you saying, Gabe? You ended it, right?" Sam asks. He's starting to get it, though, what Gabriel wants. Doesn't mean he's going to make it easy for him. Gabriel squares his shoulders and meets Sam's eye.
"I'm saying I want to be with you. Date. And stuff. If you want."
It's not smooth, nothing like Gabriel's usual ease, but it makes Sam grin all the same.
"Yeah. Yeah, I want."
***