By Fortune or Design: Part Four
Masterpost
16. Shed the dulling armor plates
Dean was studying when he finally heard from Sam again-actually, physically studying. He’d really only been half-serious about trying to go back to school. Sure, he’d wanted to, and he had been putting aside money from working extra hours, but in reality, he never would have done anything on his own. But ever since he’d brought it up, Cas wouldn’t drop the idea, even conspicuously leaving study guides for the SAT and ACT at his apartment.
And he figured if he was going to do this, he’d do it the Dean Winchester way: all or nothing. So he’d opened the book, and attempted to learn. His first practice test had been abysmal, but it had been a decade since he’d worried about math with letters, or words like ephemeral or anodyne or some other shit he swore the test writers made up just to be dicks.
Since then, he’d also acquired a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a decent calculator. Algebra still made him want to punch kittens, and the idea of reading stuffy classic literature still made his stomach turn, but, despite that, the change was pretty drastic.
He even started getting absorbed in the books-so much so that he started badly, flailing a little and throwing the one on-hand halfway across the room when his phone rang. Kansas was playing. That could only mean one thing…Sam. Nerves erupted in his stomach, but that didn’t stop him from half-diving across the couch to reach his phone as quickly as he possibly could.
“Hey,” he said lamely after accepting the call.
“Hey,” Sam replied, just as lamely, and, damn it, most of Dean was still furious with his idiot little brother, but hearing his voice for the first time in a month was the best thing ever.
“I, um,” he began, then sighed. “It’s good to hear from you, Sammy.”
There was a long pause. Then, miserably, he said, “You were right, Dean.”
“I was-what?”
“About Ruby. I can’t believe I fell for all the crap she spewed at me. I’m so stupid,” Sam said, sounding like a puppy that had been left outside in the rain. Normally, Dean would be crowing I-told-you-so’s, but this was Sam, and instead he wanted to go kick some cheating bitch ass. No one hurt his little brother, even if his little brother was a huge idiot.
“Sam, do you want me to come over?” Dean offered tentatively. He knew Sam, knew that Sam talked about things, and that he preferred to talk about things face-to-face, like the gigantic girl he was.
Sam sighed into the receiver, making the phone go static for a moment in Dean’s ear. “I don’t want to be here at all, actually.”
“Then…do you want to come over here?”
“Yeah…if that’s alright. I kind of really do,” Sam admitted miserably. Dean was absurdly reminded of tiny dorky Sam at age twelve, rejected by the first girl he’d gotten up the courage to ask out. Sam may tower over Dean now, but he’s always see his little brother as that short, sensitive kid, no matter what. And it was his job to protect him, to look out for him. No matter what.
“Of course it’s alright, Sammy,” Dean said, refusing to admit that he was getting sentimental.
“Thanks, Dean…I’ll see you,” and then the line went dead. There was a lot unsaid, the weight of their last exchange hanging in the air, but the Winchester brothers had already been through so much, Dean was optimistic that they’d get through this. Somehow.
It only took about ten minutes to get from Sam’s house to Dean’s apartment, and he used that time to make the place look presentable-picking up the fallen ACT book, cleaning the few dishes in the sink, putting his folded laundry away-smiling when he saw one of Cas’ shirts on top of a pile. His mind raced-he was nervous, still a little pissed, and feeling fucking murderous toward Ruby, even though he didn’t know what she’d done, yet. He knew that she’d hurt Sammy, and that was enough. No one hurt Sammy without feeling the wrath of Dean.
The knock on the door startled him when it came, but he jumped up without missing a beat, opening the door where his freakishly tall moose of a baby brother was standing, looking every inch the hurt twelve-year-old he would always imagine him as.
“Sammy…it’s good to see you,” he said, stepping back to let him in.
“I missed you, Dean,” Sam said, closing the door behind him and pulling Dean into a hug, which he only reluctantly returned, because he wasn’t a huge girl like Sam.
“Yeah,” was all Dean was able to say in reply, definitely not because there was a lump in his throat.
Finally, Sam let him go, and he gestured them over into the living room, sitting on the couch while Sam took the chair, still looking unhappy.
When he spoke, it was like a dam breaking. “God, Dean, I am so sorry. I should have listened to you-you had her pegged right from the beginning. I should have seen the signs, but I was too caught up in everything, and I’m so stupid, Dean, so stupid.”
“Slow down, Sammy,” Dean said. “What happened?”
Sam’s jaw was clenched, his posture hunched over in the armchair. “When I woke up this morning, Ruby was gone. And so was my credit card, all my cash, and my car.”
Dean could feel his own face tighten, his teeth begin to grind. He wanted to track down the bitch and make her pay.
Sam went on. “I spent all morning on the phone with my bank-she’s already racked up forty-five hundred dollars in charges, at what seems like every ATM in town… They’re trying to fix everything, and the police are on it, but they both said that the situation looks pretty grim.”
“That’s…awful,” Dean said, trying to control his outrage. He was certain that Sam could see it, though. He knew Dean as well as Dean knew him.
“Yeah. It is,” Sam agreed dejectedly. “But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?” Dean asked when he trailed off.
“I chose her over my own brother. Said some truly awful things to him-I can only hope he’ll forgive me one day.”
And, yeah, Dean could admit that he felt some truly manly tears welling up. “I…I’m sure he already has,” he replied, and it was true. He couldn’t forget what had happened that night, but it didn’t matter the way it had in the previous weeks.
“I’ve regretted what I said to you every day. Even when I didn’t believe you…Still…”
“Sammy. It’s gonna be okay, okay? Besides, it’s not like I didn’t ditch you for girls when we were kids,” Dean said, and Sam smiled weakly, for just a moment, a crack in the ice of his misery.
“That’s different, Dean, and we both know it. But…thanks. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said again.
“But I really am sorry,” Sam repeated.
“Quit apologizing, Sammy. It’s okay,” Dean said, unable to help a grin.
“Sorry,” Sam said, then, “…Damn it.” He grinned, too, and Dean knew that, financial issues aside, he and Sam were going to be okay again. They always were, in the end.
“So, Dean,” he asked after a while, “Um, how have you been?”
He grinned again. “You mean in general, or my assortment o’ issues?”
“Um, in general. I wasn’t even thinking about…” The way Sam’s eyebrows rose indicated that he had completely forgotten Dean’s drinking problem. Dean couldn’t really blame him-he had a lot on his plate.
“Heh. Things are…weird,” he said, nodding slowly. “Weird. But…good weird.”
It was true-the studying aside, things had been weird. He had told Bobby why he wanted the extra hours at the garage, and when the gruff old man had processed that Dean was really, truly making an effort to improve his life, he had had to turn away, claiming to have ‘an eyelash or something.’ Sometimes Bobby seemed as much a father to him as John had ever been.
And then…Cas. Cas changed everything. They were far from perfect, but they were beginning to carve their spaces into the others’ lives, smoothing the rough edges away so that they fit. He had learned that real-person Cas wasn’t therapist Cas, that he had been holding back. He was bossy, pushy, more than a little impatient, and, honestly, Dean wasn’t sure how he functioned, having a stick so far up his ass it had to be interfering with brain activity.
But he was Cas, the same guy who had seen him, really seen him, who knew his darkest moments, and who had never judged him, had only extended the hand of redemption. And that made any annoying personality traits, a marked lack of social skills, complete lack of pop-culture knowledge, and an absurd attachment to that hideous tan trench coat of his completely worth it.
And that was without sex added into the picture-after that first, desperate night, Cas had mentioned that he had intended to take things slow, that he was reserved, when it came to intimacy-he’d mentioned that when he’d been into drugs, it had been the opposite, and while Dean was appalled when Cas had red-facedly admitted attending a few orgies, he seemed determined to distance himself from the man he’d been then. Dean was okay with that-not like his right hand was going anywhere, and, after all, he hadn’t actually intended to jump straight into bed with Cas, either. Hookups were one thing, but relationships were meant to be taken slow. Not that Dean knew a lot about relationships, but, he was doing his best. So while they had spent a few nights together, in the past month, it had only been sleeping, kissing, and a lot of cuddling, and Dean liked waking up with Cas next to him, whether he got an orgasm out of it or not.
That didn’t stop him from thinking about it; hell, he hadn’t had to watch porn in months. The memory of Cas’ strangled half-moans, his voice gasping Dean’s name, that was enough for him. And he had a good imagination. Cas had him fantasizing about things he’d never really even considered before, even after he’d mostly stopped denying to himself that he was at least a little into dudes. And as frustrated as he could get, wanting that, he was willing to wait, for Cas. He supposed that meant he had it bad. Really bad. And it still scared him, a little, but…in a good way.
He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to tell Sam… it was partially that he didn’t want to rub his mostly-awesome new relationship in his face. Also, he was certain that Sam would give him a variety of bitchfaces upon hearing that he was dating his ex-counselor. And there was a tiny part that was still enjoying how fresh and new things were with him and Cas, and that part didn’t want to share it with anyone. It was just for them.
Either way, he didn’t mention it. Not quite yet.
“Well, that’s remarkably uninformative, actually,” Sam said, but it was with good humor, or at least as much as he could muster.
“Yeah, well, that’s my life,” Dean replied with an easy shrug.
“But what about the…issues?” Sam asked, more softly. “How are you doing, there?”
He paused. “Better, now. A lot better.” It was true-he was going somewhere in life, and, now that Sam was back, a lot of the psychological need for it would be gone. The physical cravings were there, might always be, but he could handle that. And Cas was helping, sometimes too much-that was one area where his occasionally domineering personality really chafed Dean. He could actually handle his own problems. He didn’t need an angel perching on his shoulder. Then again, Cas kind of had been there when Dean was at his worst-at least, his worst since his hospitalization. He could kind of see where he was coming from. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“That’s good…Ah, shit,” Sam said, as his phone started ringing. He checked the display screen. “Business calls…Do you mind if I get this?”
“Go ahead,” Dean said, gesturing his blessing. He grabbed the ACT book again and opened it to a random page, more pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping on Sam’s conversation than attempting to study. From the tone of his voice and the lines in his forehead, it wasn’t exactly promising.
After he had read the same page at least eight times, Sam finally said his ‘thank you’s’ and hung up, falling back into the chair with a sigh of exasperation.
“Banks. I hate them,” Sam said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”
“Uh-my life, and how spectacularly uninteresting it is now that I’m not out boozin’ and cruisin’?” Dean offered, and his brother smiled weakly at that.
“Whenever your life is boring, I suspect that you’re hiding things from me.” He paused, looking up. “Like why you’re holding a study guide for the ACT?”
Dean looked down, having forgotten that he was still holding the book. “Oh, yeah, this old thing? No big deal. I’m just going back to school,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug. Sam’s jaw dropped and Dean could practically see his tail start wagging.
“No big deal?! Dean, that’s great! What made you decide to go back?”
He thought very carefully about his answer-before deciding on the truth. “It was something Cas said…Actually, it was a lot of things Cas said. Anyway, point is, I’m going to stop doing what Dad wanted me to do and do what I want to do.”
For a second, he thought Sam was about to do something embarrassing, like cry, or hug him, but finally, he just smiled, and said, “That’s…That’s great.”
He smirked. “And about friggin’ time, too, right?”
“I wasn’t going to say it,” Sam admitted. “One of us has to have a sense of tact.”
“Hey! I have a sense of tact!”
“Yeah, you keep it right next to your sense of propriety,” he said with an eye roll and a fond bitchface (number 31). “Anyway, do you know what you’re going back for?”
He hesitated, suddenly embarrassed about revealing his two-year degree plan to his lawyer of a little brother. But, hey, what the hell. “I’m going to try to get certified as a paramedic.”
Sam kind of nodded and smiled absently, worrying Dean. Then, he looked up. “Oh! Sorry, I was just remembering how you’d always patch me up when we were kids. I always kind of secretly thought you’d make a great doctor.”
Dean laughed awkwardly. He’d never told Sam that for a while, that had been exactly what he wanted. “Sammy, the SAT confuses me. Can you really see me passing the MCAT?”
“Once you get caught up? Yeah, I can. I bet the only reason you’re finding that stuff hard is because you never tried in school. And also it’s been thirteen years.”
“Funny, that’s what Cas said, too…” He said, without thinking, and immediately wanted to bite the words back.
“So you’re still seeing Cas?” Sam asked, and, yeah, foot in mouth moment. Dean resisted the urge to clench his teeth.
“Uh, yeah. I’m seeing Cas,” he answered as vaguely and non-incriminatingly as possible.
Sam’s face fell, though. “I’m glad someone was here for you.”
“Sammy. What did I say about apologizing?”
“I know, but-you’re still keeping things from me.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked with all the innocence he could muster.
“I mean, why did Bobby have to call me the day after…yeah? You never miss work.”
“Okay, Sam, new rule. You can apologize as many times as you like, but how about you quit with the personal questions and let me keep some semblance of privacy in my life? Got it?”
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, fine. Sorry…”
“There we go. Easy as pie. Speaking of which, I’m starving. Wanna get some takeout?” Dean asked, managing to relax.
“Yeah, I could eat. Um, Thai?” Sam said, seemingly thrown by the abrupt shift in conversation.
Dean smiled in response and went to go find the right menu from the pile of them on top of his refrigerator. A moment later, the grin slid off his face. Shit. He was supposed to have dinner with Cas in a few hours-with Sam showing up, it had completely slipped his mind. He grimaced and furrowed his brow. He’d have to give Cas a call, reschedule. He didn’t want to, but…Sam.
Quickly, he grabbed a menu at random, surprised that it was the right one, and threw it in Sam’s general direction before stalking off to his bedroom.
“Where are you going?” He asked, leaning across the side of the chair, straining for the menu where it had fallen onto the floor.
“Gotta make a phone call. Don’t cry too much while I’m gone, Samantha.” Sam rolled his eyes and continued to reach, seemingly refusing to get up.
He was calling before the door shut all the way. Cas answered on the second ring.
“Dean,” he said by way of greeting, and fuck, yeah, he was more than a little gay, because he loved the way his name sounded in Cas’ voice.
“Cas, hey,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in reply. He really read Dean too easily for comfort. But he couldn’t deny that secretly, he kind of liked that, too.
“Yes. Well, no. I mean, it’s not good, but it’s still kind of good-anyway, can we reschedule dinner?”
“What’s going on?”
He took a deep breath, unable to keep from smiling as he announced, “Sam’s here.”
“And I take it that’s going well?” Cask asked, his voice unreadable.
“Well, the bitch up and left him with his car and money, but me and him are okay again.”
There was a long silence. “Cas?” Dean prompted him.
“Don’t you think you’re letting him off kind of easy, considering what he said to you?” he replied, finally. Dean wasn’t sure to react. His initial instinct was to snap something back-no one, no one, got to hate on Sammy while he was around. Then again, Cas was only angry because Dean had been hurt, and that made those gross girly feelings in him squirm gleefully. So he thought carefully before answering.
“I figure he’s been through enough, today…And besides, he’s my brother. There’s really nothing I wouldn’t forgive him for.”
“I know. I know,” he said gently. A pause, “And we can have dinner anytime.”
“You sure, Cas?” Dean asked.
“I understand how important your brother is to you.”
Dean couldn’t speak for a long time, absurdly working his jaw and trying to figure out how he got so lucky, ending up with a guy like Cas. “Thank you,” he managed, after a long time.
“I’ll speak with you later, then,” he replied, and hung up. Not one for long goodbyes, his Cas.
He locked his phone and pushed it back into his pocket, striding back into the living room to finish repairing his relationship with his little brother.
17. Born inside the gates of the family
Castiel was in a state of panic. This was not something that happened frequently, or, really, at all. Not unless his family was involved. And they were involved. They were very, very involved.
Gabriel was the only other Novak who lived in the area-in a larger town about thirty minutes away, and the others were scattered all over the country. Except that they weren’t. They were all coming to town under the guise of an “impromptu family reunion,” but Castiel knew that it was a cover up for “tormenting the black sheep and his new boyfriend for whom he quit his respectable career.” It was rude and invasive and definitely an overreaction, and exactly the kind of thing they would do. Especially now, when he was stressed about a million other things-getting hired somewhere, anywhere at this point not among the least of his concerns.
And they would be getting into town tomorrow. He didn’t bother protesting the indignity of it-his family didn’t work like that. Sure, they hadn’t done this when Jimmy had gotten serious about Amelia, but then, Jimmy had always been the perfect son-successful, if not too ambitious, a devout churchgoer, white-picket-fence type. No wars, no drugs, none of…everything that made Castiel himself.
Still, Castiel was expected to be there, and he was expected to bring his “young man,” as Michael had phrased it over the phone, the curling sneer obvious in his voice. He wasn’t sure how to break the news to Dean. A completely honest revelation would be, “Oh, hello, Dean, my family is in town and they insist on meeting you but don’t panic-you could act like Jesus and they would still judge you.”
There had to be a gentler way of approaching the subject than that. He briefly considered baking a pie, but decided against it. They were both adults. Bribery wasn’t the best option. Either way, better to get it out of the way as soon as possible. He found his phone, flipping it open and fumbling at the keys.
Dean,
Are you occupied at the present time?
Castiel
The reply came about a minute later.
No im not busy. Whats up?
Castiel sighed, as usual, at Dean’s inability to text with correct grammar.
Dean,
Would you be willing to come over? There is something I need to discuss with you.
Castiel
Instead of a reply, the phone rang no less than fifteen seconds later.
“Dean?” He began, but he was talked over.
“What did I do? That sounded suspiciously like a ‘we need to talk,’ and those conversations never end well,” Dean said, sounding mildly frantic.
Castiel blinked. “You haven’t done anything, and I apologize for my phrasing. But I would like to discuss it in person, if that’s okay,” he said.
“At least tell me if it’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Dean said, more relaxed, but with trepidation still present in his voice.
Castiel considered. “I really should let you make that distinction. When can you be here?”
“I’m leaving now,” he said, and Cas could hear the faint jingle of a keyring.
The drive from Dean’s apartment to Castiel’s house took ten minutes, on average. Five minutes after they hung up, there was a knock on his door.
“It’s open,” he called casually, and immediately he heard the sound of someone entering. He had no doubt that it was Dean from the footsteps that approached, thundering, but somehow gingerly.
He sat down in the chair across the kitchen table from Castiel and asked, “You wanna tell me what’s going on, now?”
He sighed, swirling the dregs of his coffee. “My family is in town.”
“Um. Okay?”
“Let me finish. My family is in town-and they want to meet you.”
Dean blinked. “That’s a little soon, don’t you think?” And it was true-though neither of them was exactly sure when they had begun…whatever it was, it had still only been roughly two months ago.
“Well, yes, but, my family is…”
“Dude, don’t say your family is crazy. Everyone thinks that their own family is crazy.”
And Dean would know better than most about crazy families. “I wasn’t going to say crazy. I was going to say overbearing and generally full of assholes. I don’t get along with them, they generally don’t get along with me. Haven’t you wondered why I never go visit?” The panic was welling up again, causing the pitch and speed of his words to increase.
“Cas-it’s alright. I’ll…I’ll meet them, okay? I’ll even pull out my suit, and be on my best behavior,” Dean said, trying to calm him down.
“I’m glad you’re going willingly, because there is no avoiding them. I wouldn’t put kidnapping past Luke,” he admitted with a frown.
“C’mon…they can’t be that bad…”
“Dean, you remember what I told you about my father, right?” When he nodded, Castiel continued. “Well, he may be dead, but my uncles are doing a damn good job filling his shoes. All four of them.”
“Oh. Um. I’ll be on my best behavior?” He offered again, and Cas smiled weakly into his cold, congealing coffee.
“Just…expect them to be rude. Subtlety is not a strong art in the Novak line.”
“Seriously, Cas. I’ll be Prince Charming. After all, don’t want them thinking you have bad taste. Anyway, when does this shindig go down?”
He grimaced, though, overall, this conversation was going much better than he’d expected. “Tomorrow night, at Gabriel’s house.”
He paled and might have flinched. “That’s uh…That’s a little soon, don’t you think?” He repeated with a weak laugh. Castiel didn’t return it.
“They didn’t want me to be able to find an excuse to not be there,” he admitted seriously.
“You know, they actually do kind of sound like a bunch of dicks,” Dean said after a long silence.
“Finally, you begin to understand,” Castiel said with a mock sigh, and he didn’t miss how the corners of Dean’s mouth quirked up at that-he always smiled whenever he proved he had a sense of humor. Nevertheless, he sobered. “There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to be just like them, to impress…well, my father, mostly, but them, too.”
“Well, thank god you got over that. Seriously, Cas-don’t ever change.”
“Thank you, Dean,” he replied, voice soft.
“What for?”
“You’ve…I’m much calmer now.” His hands were steady, his limbs less fidgety.
“Uhh-no problem. The calling-at-one-in-the-morning thing doesn’t just go for me, Cas,” Dean said, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and while it was endearing, Castiel was filled with horror.
“Tell me it isn’t actually one in the morning,” he demanded before looking at the clock for himself. It was, indeed, one fifteen in the morning. He groaned and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the table. “I should have been to bed hours ago,” he complained into the wood surface.
Dean laughed lightly, and said, “Well, now that I know you’re not planning on dumping me immediately, should I go home?”
He hesitated, wavering, but stopped Dean before he was fully out of his chair. “Actually, stay?” It was the first time he’d asked Dean to stay the night with him.
“I…have to work tomorrow morning,” he said regretfully, and Castiel nodded. “So don’t bite my head off when I have to get up early, okay?”
He smiled lightly, and pushed his chair back to stand up. “In that case, I believe I feel exhaustion overwhelming me.” It was a blatant lie-his earlier…anxiety had left him as wide awake as a full pot of coffee would have.
Dean smiled in return. “Sure, Cas,” he said disbelievingly, but followed his lead, following him to the bedroom. When he had bought it, Castiel had thought that having such an absurdly large bed was pointless-he spent his nights alone, and didn’t move around much in his sleep. Now, though, he felt it one of the best purchases he’d ever made. Dean filled the void on the other side, made him feel like he wasn’t drowning alone in an endless sea of blankets. It was an odd metaphor, but he’d woken up once or twice, in the dead of night, and found himself thinking along that line.
Never when Dean was there, though. Unselfconsciously, he shucked off his shirt and jeans, and Dean did the same, leaving them both in just boxers. Under the blankets, he wrapped his arms around Castiel from behind, pulling their bodies together until they were touching from shoulders to feet, legs tangling casually. Castiel relaxed against him, comfortable, cherishing this human closeness. A few seconds passed, and he felt the press of lips to the back of his neck, from the knob of his spine up into his hair. He made a small pleased sound and turned his face.
Dean’s mouth trailed over, breath ghosting in his ear, making Castiel shiver, before travelling over his jaw line and finally reaching his own lips. They moved together, soft, yielding. The angle was bad, so he shifted a bit so that his shoulders were flat on the bed, Dean leaning over him. He opened his mouth, felt Dean’s tongue brush his own, and shivered. He wanted Dean, had never stopped wanting him, despite his secret oath that he would respect himself enough to take things slowly in a relationship-especially one that mattered. But Dean was beautiful, a good man, burning a little brighter than most. His eyes spoke the volumes his mouth wouldn’t reveal, his lips were almost too perfect to be real, and Castiel just loved every feature on his face, every line of his body. The light splash of freckles that had appeared on his face as the days lengthened into high summer, the bow-legged way he walked, as if his knees had never met. Castiel wanted him, wanted him on top of him, under him, around him, inside of him.
The thought of their bodies coming together was almost enough to make him give in, fueled by memories of that first night they had been together, desperate, passionate abandon. The ghosts of sensations trailed over his skin, images flashing in his mind’s eye, broken like recollections of a fever dream. It was almost enough to convince him to take the next step, see if Dean was ready, but he remembered that he would be seeing his family in less than twenty-four hours, and the last thing he needed was an afterglow.
Another night, then, he thought, pulling away from Dean with a last lingering kiss and leaning back against his chest again. Another night. Soon.
18. Held inside the family gathering
He immediately felt guilty for thinking it, but Cas was a little bit adorable when he was on the verge of panic. Whereas Dean tended to yell and stomp around and shut everyone out when he was stressed, Cas rushed around in full OCD-mode, making sure every little thing was just so. Honestly, Dean would have found it fucking annoying if he wasn’t so goddamn earnest about it.
Plus, he couldn’t deny that it was nice to see Cas in those well-fitting suit trousers again.
If he were to be really honest with himself, though-something that Dean tried to avoid on principle, but, hey-he’d admit that he was looking for distractions, that Castiel’s family vaguely terrified him, for all that he hadn’t met any of them.
Michael, apparently, was some CEO in New York state, Raphael a high-ranking FBI officer and ex-army ranger, Lucifer-Luke, Luke-the owner of a large pharmaceutical corporation, and Gabriel a television executive. By the way Cas’ voice had gone tight and reluctant at the last one, Dean rather suspected that Gabe actually owned a porn studio. Anna and Jimmy had more, well, normal careers, but still, Dean couldn’t help but feel threatened. He was a mechanic with a GED-how could he hope to make a good impression on people like that (porn studio ownership aside)?
It was almost as disturbing how much he wanted to make a good impression. Really, on the one hand, he was Dean Winchester, he did what he wanted, and fuck you, but on the other hand, and only because he was being honest with himself…Cas meant a lot to him. And Dean, more than most, understood the importance of family. Would he dump Cas if Sam absolutely hated him? Well…he’d certainly evaluate their relationship pretty harshly.
Sam. That was another thing he was dreading. He couldn’t put off telling his little brother about him and Castiel for much longer.
Still, there wasn’t much time to worry about that, because Dean was tying Castiel’s tie, and they were both buttoning up their jackets-it was time to go. Cas was fidgeting and twitchy, so unlike his typical stoicism, and, wow, could they really be that bad? Maybe Dean wasn’t nervous enough. And with that unpleasant thought, he put the key in Baby’s ignition, and took off from Cas’ house.
They made the drive in silence, but about ten minutes in, Castiel took Dean’s hand in a death grip and didn’t release it until they pulled into the-obscenely huge, ostentatious, pretentious-as-fuck-gated community where Gabriel’s house was located. His circulation finally returned when he put the Impala in park in front of an equally pretentious-as-fuck house of river stone. His baby looked out of place amidst the BMWs, the Mercedes, the Porsches. Kind of like him.
He looked over, and Cas smiled weakly at him. At least he wasn’t alone.
They both hesitated a long while before Dean, resolute, opened his door and got out, Cas following suit less than a second later.
The front door to the house opened before Castiel managed to ring the doorbell, and the man standing in the threshold was wearing an expensive white suit and the sort of smarmy smile that stunk of money and self-importance. Dean immediately disliked him.
“Pretty boy, you made it,” the man said, gesturing widely.
“Gabriel,” Cas said coolly, inclining his head a fraction of a degree.
Gabriel craned his neck to see Dean, standing behind Cas. “And look! Your boyfriend’s even prettier than you are-but let’s hope he’s not as dumb as he looks. Yeah, I’ve heard all about you, Dean-o.”
Dean gritted his teeth, remembering Cas’ advice that everything would be easier if he were to completely disregard everything Gabriel said. He was making it difficult, though. “Nice to meet you too,” he managed at long last, not missing the relieved glance Cas sent his way.
“Well trained, too!” Gabriel exclaimed with an unctuous smile. “Come on in then, nephew and plus one. Everyone else is in the den.”
Gabriel turned around and walked into the depths of the house-mansion, really-leaving the door open for Dean and Castiel to follow. They trailed Gabriel at a distance, up a spiral flight of mahogany stairs and down a hallway that opened up into a room with ceilings so high that a herd of giraffes could fit comfortably inside. He was reminded disturbingly of the one Catholic church he’d ever been in, when he was thirteen and he and Sam had gotten lost on their way back to the motel of the week. The priest had been a grouchy old man who had only let them grudgingly stay until they could get a ride back. He felt the same sort of unwelcome emanating from this room, even though the people assembled within had smiles on their faces-to varying degrees.
Cas had given him a rundown of the family, pictures included. He could remember their names, at least. Jimmy was, obviously, the one who looked just like Cas, except somehow completely different. Same blue eyes, same hair, but Jimmy’s stare was sort of languid and open, rather than Castiel’s hard and focused. By his side was a woman-Amelia, with a girl between them-Claire. Gabriel had taken a spot leaning against the wall next to a man with blond hair and deep set eyes-that would be Lucifer, whom he must never call that. Luke.
On the other couch was a woman with pretty red hair. Cas’ sister, Anna. Out of everyone, her smile seemed the most genuine. Next to her was a dark-skinned man. Cas’ as-it-turned-out adopted uncle Raphael. He wasn’t smiling at all. Neither was the remaining man, sitting in a deep armchair, with dark hair like Cas’, but deep black eyes. Michael.
“Well, Castiel, gonna introduce your new boy-toy or what?” Gabriel prompted him after Dean had taken everything in.
Cas seemed to snap out of a daze. “Oh-yes. Uncles, sister, brother…Amelia, Claire, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, my family.”
“Ah-hi,” he said lamely, uncomfortable with so many eyes on him.
There was another silence, and he felt judged like he’d never felt judged before. Luke was the one to break it this time. “Well, I’d ask how you two met, but I’m afraid we’ve already heard the story.”
“Yes, I hope you’re worth a medical license and a respectable career,” added Raphael, in case Luke had been too subtle. The look on the man’s face said that he highly doubted it.
Well, that confirmed the judgment. Dean grimaced, unsure of what to say. Cas’ face was guarded, but his jaw was tight, clenched. He was reminded of Sam’s last few years before leaving for Stanford-constantly clashing with John, Dean mediating between the two of them, listening to each vent their frustrations about the other. He’d always wanted to reply, but he never had. It would have only made the situation worse.
Gabriel gestured at the remaining empty loveseat and said, “Well, you gonna hover in the doorway or sit down?” Stiffly, he followed Cas and took the seat next to him. His knuckles were white where they immediately clutched at the arm. He wasn’t any more relaxed himself.
After a moment, Anna leaned forward and smiled. “Hi, Dean. I’m glad I get to meet you, despite what my uncles have to say.” Dean smiled in return, weakly, glad for the reprieve. “Your family must seem nice compared to us, huh?”
We may have been dysfunctional as hell, but at least we didn’t have entire trees up our asses, he wanted to say. “Ah. It certainly seems…small, now,” he said instead.
“Oh?”
“It’s…just my brother and me, now,” he said weakly.
“I’ve heard of his brother,” Luke added, looking around and shrugging. “Lawyer, damn good one too if my…sources are correct.”
“You trying to recruit him for that company of yours?” Michael asked, speaking for the first time. Luke made a face-Cas said that they hadn’t gotten along well.
“So what if I am? Could always use a good legal representative.” Dean bristled-he didn’t like the sound of that, Luke trying to…obtain his brother, like Sam was a piece on a chessboard. “Anyway,” Luke went on, “Weren’t we talking about the elder Winchester. You know-the one who doesn’t have the law degree. Or, well, any degree.”
He bit the inside of his cheek-hard. This is Cas’ family-do not fuck this up, was running though his head, a mantra.
“Dean was too busy making sure Sam was able to succeed to focus on his own life,” Cas said lowly, his voice a growl, but every eye in the room was trained on him. “He all but raised his brother, is the one responsible for how he turned out. It’s more than you would have done in his situation, uncle.” Dean’s jaw dropped, cheeks going embarrassingly hot. He didn’t need to be defended like that-and some small, petty part of him resented it just a little bit, but at the same time, it was…touching.
“Whoa, touchy,” Luke replied affably, unaffected by the daggers Castiel was glaring at him. “You don’t need to make excuses for your boyfriend.”
Unbelievably, Castiel tensed even further, but his mouth remained shut, even though Dean could see how much strain was in his jaw, keeping it closed. So, protective Cas. Apparently a thing. A pinch of disturbing, a splash of embarrassing, with a generous serving of holy fuck that’s kind of hot.
He looked around quickly. Totally the wrong place to be thinking such things. Nonetheless, despite the staring thing that appeared to be an inherited trait, there didn’t seem to be any mind readers in the room.
“So,” Gabriel asked after a moment of haughty silence, and Dean just knew he was going to say something douchey, “You raised your brother, cool. How’s that working out with the alcoholism?”
Castiel barked out a harsh, “Gabe!” as Dean put on his brightest front, his most false smile, and said, at the same time, “Peachy, thanks.” Inside, he was fuming.
“You know,” Luke said lazily, “I read recently that something like three fourths of all alcoholics relapse within two years. How about them odds, Dean?”
“I actually think I can handle it,” Dean said, striving for something vaguely close to civility. It wasn’t going to last long.
Gabriel laughed, and replied, “You know, I can kind of see what attracts my nephew to you, Dean-o. You’re just like him, ten years ago. Only a lot less…what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Emo?” Raphael said in a rumble, not bothering to look up from where he was picking at his nails.
With an exaggerated expression of consideration, Gabriel eventually shrugged. “Not what I was thinking, but it works. A lot less emo and a lot more…butch.”
A sidelong glance at Cas showed that they were both uncomfortable, one of his hands still gripping the couch tightly, the other wrapped protectively around his midsection. Suddenly, Dean’s anger evaporated into hopeless misery, and he hated seeing Cas the same way. And when he thought of what Cas had told him, about coming off the drugs, about his attempted suicide-Dean’s stomach leapt in horror even thinking about that-he got angry again. How could they make light of their nephew’s problems like that? What kind of family were they? Before he knew what was happening, the words were spilling out of his mouth.
“Look, guys, say whatever you want about me. I probably deserve that and more. But don’t talk trash about Cas-not to me.” He managed to shut up there, but there was so much more running through his head. He’s been to the wire for me, he’s seen me at my worst, he’s the one who saved me, and none of you were there for him. He’s gone through all of this shit already-but he had to do it on his own. He’s strong. You shut the fuck up about him.
Gabriel threw his hands up. “Easy, lover boy. It’s all in good fun between a nephew and his favorite uncle.”
Dean didn’t answer, kept his head held high, looked straight at Gabriel.
“Alright, alright, geez. I get it. No more fun at Cas’ expense.” He and Castiel both frowned at Gabriel’s use of the nickname. It kind of warmed Dean, as did his victory. He had a feeling that it would really only make the night harder for him, though.
And he was right. The Novak family was paramount when it came to snide remarks. Still, in between blows to his ego, he learned a disturbing amount about the family. Jimmy was a tax accountant, and had never been close to Cas, despite their sharing the same womb for nine months. Anna-which turned out to be short for Anael-was a painter, moderately famous for her unusual renderings of angels. Michael was possibly the most domineering, douchetastic person he’d ever encountered. Raphael and Castiel apparently did not speak to one another. At all. Luke was downright terrifying. And his earlier impression that there was absolutely no filter between Gabriel’s brain and his mouth was confirmed-several times. Also, he did, in fact, own a porn studio. The rights to the entire Casa Erotica saga? Owned by Gabriel Novak. Finally, and while it was more implied than outright stated, the oldest of the brothers, Castiel’s father, was not to be mentioned. Ever.
Nevertheless, the absolute greatest impression he got was that the Novak family was full of assholes.
Apparently, even they agreed.
Gabriel and Luke had been arguing over…something pointless, in Dean’s opinion; he had tuned out about two minutes previously. At least it wasn’t another discussion (which had quickly turned into a bet) on how long it would take Dean to go back to drinking.
Finally, Gabriel threw his hands up and declared, “You know what, Luci? You’re my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”
Dean’s jaw dropped, and he looked around nervously, seeing if Gabriel was about to get…smote or something, but no one else looked concerned. Then, an honest to god butler walked in, uniform and everything, and diffused the tension by announcing that “dinner was served in the west dining hall.”
The west dining hall. Did that mean there was more than one? Dean didn’t even have a kitchen table. Rich family. Rich assholes. He grimaced, wishing beyond hope that he and Cas could just leave. Castiel wasn’t any happier than he was, even if he hadn’t had another outburst. Hadn’t said much of anything, actually. One or two words answers, and only then when asked a direct question that couldn’t be answered with a nod or a shake of his head.
Everyone stood, and Dean awkwardly joined them, hanging back a moment to walk with Cas, though, who was taking his time. However, the moment they were alone in the room, Castiel spun Dean around to face him and pulled hard on the collar of his suit jacket, not so much kissing him as blindly smashing their faces together.
After a while, he broke off, asking, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?”
“I…what you said earlier. No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”
“You did the same for me, literally minutes before,” Dean reminded him. Castiel looked down, and Dean appreciated being those few inches taller than the other man-his face, shadowed, blue eyes downcast through his lashes, was a gorgeous sight, making his stomach clench in the same way it had when Cassie had first agreed to go on a date with him.
“But you deserve it,” Castiel murmured.
“Hey, hey, Cas. Look at me,” Dean said in reply, raising a hand to gently run his fingers over Castiel’s jaw and cheek as he slowly raised his head. “What I said about not talking trash about you? You don’t get to do it either. Especially not to me-after everything you’ve done.”
There was a moment when an odd tension grew between them-not a bad one, not even close, the same sort of thrill that Dean used to get at bars when a girl asked him back to her place. Blue met green, and Cas’ mouth fell open like he was going to say something.
The moment was cut short, though, by Gabriel popping back into the room, causing Castiel to step back quickly and close his mouth with an audible click. “Hey, Castiel, Dean-o, dinner’s gonna get cold-aww, isn’t that cute! Love is in the air!” he chirped, gleefully smug.
“Yeah, and my foot’s about to be up your ass,” Dean growled before remembering himself. Cas’ eyebrows drew together, and Dean gritted his teeth and braced himself to apologize, but Gabriel barked out a laugh.
“Well, he certainly does talk back! I gotta admit, Castiel, I do like this one, everything aside. Much better than the last one you brought home-what was it, eight years ago? She was a prissy little bitch. What was her name again? Rebecca? No, that’s not it…Oh, yeah, Rachel!”
“Gabe.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Is that how you talk to your favorite uncle?”
“You’re only my favorite because your brothers are somehow even worse than you,” Cas retorted, voice sounding like gravel.
“Harsh! I’m wounded! Anyway, dinner, chop chop.”
“So, Rachel,” Dean said, once he was certain that the mood from before Gabriel’s sudden appearance was gone for good.
“Dean,” Cas said warningly.
“Seriously-eight years?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Dean said, managing a grin before remembering that he’d have to go to dinner and face everyone again. The smile slid off his face like rancid oil. “Should we go?”
Cas sighed. “I suppose we must.”
Part Three | Part Five
16. Shed the dulling armor plates
Dean was studying when he finally heard from Sam again-actually, physically studying. He’d really only been half-serious about trying to go back to school. Sure, he’d wanted to, and he had been putting aside money from working extra hours, but in reality, he never would have done anything on his own. But ever since he’d brought it up, Cas wouldn’t drop the idea, even conspicuously leaving study guides for the SAT and ACT at his apartment.
And he figured if he was going to do this, he’d do it the Dean Winchester way: all or nothing. So he’d opened the book, and attempted to learn. His first practice test had been abysmal, but it had been a decade since he’d worried about math with letters, or words like ephemeral or anodyne or some other shit he swore the test writers made up just to be dicks.
Since then, he’d also acquired a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a decent calculator. Algebra still made him want to punch kittens, and the idea of reading stuffy classic literature still made his stomach turn, but, despite that, the change was pretty drastic.
He even started getting absorbed in the books-so much so that he started badly, flailing a little and throwing the one on-hand halfway across the room when his phone rang. Kansas was playing. That could only mean one thing…Sam. Nerves erupted in his stomach, but that didn’t stop him from half-diving across the couch to reach his phone as quickly as he possibly could.
“Hey,” he said lamely after accepting the call.
“Hey,” Sam replied, just as lamely, and, damn it, most of Dean was still furious with his idiot little brother, but hearing his voice for the first time in a month was the best thing ever.
“I, um,” he began, then sighed. “It’s good to hear from you, Sammy.”
There was a long pause. Then, miserably, he said, “You were right, Dean.”
“I was-what?”
“About Ruby. I can’t believe I fell for all the crap she spewed at me. I’m so stupid,” Sam said, sounding like a puppy that had been left outside in the rain. Normally, Dean would be crowing I-told-you-so’s, but this was Sam, and instead he wanted to go kick some cheating bitch ass. No one hurt his little brother, even if his little brother was a huge idiot.
“Sam, do you want me to come over?” Dean offered tentatively. He knew Sam, knew that Sam talked about things, and that he preferred to talk about things face-to-face, like the gigantic girl he was.
Sam sighed into the receiver, making the phone go static for a moment in Dean’s ear. “I don’t want to be here at all, actually.”
“Then…do you want to come over here?”
“Yeah…if that’s alright. I kind of really do,” Sam admitted miserably. Dean was absurdly reminded of tiny dorky Sam at age twelve, rejected by the first girl he’d gotten up the courage to ask out. Sam may tower over Dean now, but he’s always see his little brother as that short, sensitive kid, no matter what. And it was his job to protect him, to look out for him. No matter what.
“Of course it’s alright, Sammy,” Dean said, refusing to admit that he was getting sentimental.
“Thanks, Dean…I’ll see you,” and then the line went dead. There was a lot unsaid, the weight of their last exchange hanging in the air, but the Winchester brothers had already been through so much, Dean was optimistic that they’d get through this. Somehow.
It only took about ten minutes to get from Sam’s house to Dean’s apartment, and he used that time to make the place look presentable-picking up the fallen ACT book, cleaning the few dishes in the sink, putting his folded laundry away-smiling when he saw one of Cas’ shirts on top of a pile. His mind raced-he was nervous, still a little pissed, and feeling fucking murderous toward Ruby, even though he didn’t know what she’d done, yet. He knew that she’d hurt Sammy, and that was enough. No one hurt Sammy without feeling the wrath of Dean.
The knock on the door startled him when it came, but he jumped up without missing a beat, opening the door where his freakishly tall moose of a baby brother was standing, looking every inch the hurt twelve-year-old he would always imagine him as.
“Sammy…it’s good to see you,” he said, stepping back to let him in.
“I missed you, Dean,” Sam said, closing the door behind him and pulling Dean into a hug, which he only reluctantly returned, because he wasn’t a huge girl like Sam.
“Yeah,” was all Dean was able to say in reply, definitely not because there was a lump in his throat.
Finally, Sam let him go, and he gestured them over into the living room, sitting on the couch while Sam took the chair, still looking unhappy.
When he spoke, it was like a dam breaking. “God, Dean, I am so sorry. I should have listened to you-you had her pegged right from the beginning. I should have seen the signs, but I was too caught up in everything, and I’m so stupid, Dean, so stupid.”
“Slow down, Sammy,” Dean said. “What happened?”
Sam’s jaw was clenched, his posture hunched over in the armchair. “When I woke up this morning, Ruby was gone. And so was my credit card, all my cash, and my car.”
Dean could feel his own face tighten, his teeth begin to grind. He wanted to track down the bitch and make her pay.
Sam went on. “I spent all morning on the phone with my bank-she’s already racked up forty-five hundred dollars in charges, at what seems like every ATM in town… They’re trying to fix everything, and the police are on it, but they both said that the situation looks pretty grim.”
“That’s…awful,” Dean said, trying to control his outrage. He was certain that Sam could see it, though. He knew Dean as well as Dean knew him.
“Yeah. It is,” Sam agreed dejectedly. “But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?” Dean asked when he trailed off.
“I chose her over my own brother. Said some truly awful things to him-I can only hope he’ll forgive me one day.”
And, yeah, Dean could admit that he felt some truly manly tears welling up. “I…I’m sure he already has,” he replied, and it was true. He couldn’t forget what had happened that night, but it didn’t matter the way it had in the previous weeks.
“I’ve regretted what I said to you every day. Even when I didn’t believe you…Still…”
“Sammy. It’s gonna be okay, okay? Besides, it’s not like I didn’t ditch you for girls when we were kids,” Dean said, and Sam smiled weakly, for just a moment, a crack in the ice of his misery.
“That’s different, Dean, and we both know it. But…thanks. And I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said again.
“But I really am sorry,” Sam repeated.
“Quit apologizing, Sammy. It’s okay,” Dean said, unable to help a grin.
“Sorry,” Sam said, then, “…Damn it.” He grinned, too, and Dean knew that, financial issues aside, he and Sam were going to be okay again. They always were, in the end.
“So, Dean,” he asked after a while, “Um, how have you been?”
He grinned again. “You mean in general, or my assortment o’ issues?”
“Um, in general. I wasn’t even thinking about…” The way Sam’s eyebrows rose indicated that he had completely forgotten Dean’s drinking problem. Dean couldn’t really blame him-he had a lot on his plate.
“Heh. Things are…weird,” he said, nodding slowly. “Weird. But…good weird.”
It was true-the studying aside, things had been weird. He had told Bobby why he wanted the extra hours at the garage, and when the gruff old man had processed that Dean was really, truly making an effort to improve his life, he had had to turn away, claiming to have ‘an eyelash or something.’ Sometimes Bobby seemed as much a father to him as John had ever been.
And then…Cas. Cas changed everything. They were far from perfect, but they were beginning to carve their spaces into the others’ lives, smoothing the rough edges away so that they fit. He had learned that real-person Cas wasn’t therapist Cas, that he had been holding back. He was bossy, pushy, more than a little impatient, and, honestly, Dean wasn’t sure how he functioned, having a stick so far up his ass it had to be interfering with brain activity.
But he was Cas, the same guy who had seen him, really seen him, who knew his darkest moments, and who had never judged him, had only extended the hand of redemption. And that made any annoying personality traits, a marked lack of social skills, complete lack of pop-culture knowledge, and an absurd attachment to that hideous tan trench coat of his completely worth it.
And that was without sex added into the picture-after that first, desperate night, Cas had mentioned that he had intended to take things slow, that he was reserved, when it came to intimacy-he’d mentioned that when he’d been into drugs, it had been the opposite, and while Dean was appalled when Cas had red-facedly admitted attending a few orgies, he seemed determined to distance himself from the man he’d been then. Dean was okay with that-not like his right hand was going anywhere, and, after all, he hadn’t actually intended to jump straight into bed with Cas, either. Hookups were one thing, but relationships were meant to be taken slow. Not that Dean knew a lot about relationships, but, he was doing his best. So while they had spent a few nights together, in the past month, it had only been sleeping, kissing, and a lot of cuddling, and Dean liked waking up with Cas next to him, whether he got an orgasm out of it or not.
That didn’t stop him from thinking about it; hell, he hadn’t had to watch porn in months. The memory of Cas’ strangled half-moans, his voice gasping Dean’s name, that was enough for him. And he had a good imagination. Cas had him fantasizing about things he’d never really even considered before, even after he’d mostly stopped denying to himself that he was at least a little into dudes. And as frustrated as he could get, wanting that, he was willing to wait, for Cas. He supposed that meant he had it bad. Really bad. And it still scared him, a little, but…in a good way.
He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to tell Sam… it was partially that he didn’t want to rub his mostly-awesome new relationship in his face. Also, he was certain that Sam would give him a variety of bitchfaces upon hearing that he was dating his ex-counselor. And there was a tiny part that was still enjoying how fresh and new things were with him and Cas, and that part didn’t want to share it with anyone. It was just for them.
Either way, he didn’t mention it. Not quite yet.
“Well, that’s remarkably uninformative, actually,” Sam said, but it was with good humor, or at least as much as he could muster.
“Yeah, well, that’s my life,” Dean replied with an easy shrug.
“But what about the…issues?” Sam asked, more softly. “How are you doing, there?”
He paused. “Better, now. A lot better.” It was true-he was going somewhere in life, and, now that Sam was back, a lot of the psychological need for it would be gone. The physical cravings were there, might always be, but he could handle that. And Cas was helping, sometimes too much-that was one area where his occasionally domineering personality really chafed Dean. He could actually handle his own problems. He didn’t need an angel perching on his shoulder. Then again, Cas kind of had been there when Dean was at his worst-at least, his worst since his hospitalization. He could kind of see where he was coming from. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“That’s good…Ah, shit,” Sam said, as his phone started ringing. He checked the display screen. “Business calls…Do you mind if I get this?”
“Go ahead,” Dean said, gesturing his blessing. He grabbed the ACT book again and opened it to a random page, more pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping on Sam’s conversation than attempting to study. From the tone of his voice and the lines in his forehead, it wasn’t exactly promising.
After he had read the same page at least eight times, Sam finally said his ‘thank you’s’ and hung up, falling back into the chair with a sigh of exasperation.
“Banks. I hate them,” Sam said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”
“Uh-my life, and how spectacularly uninteresting it is now that I’m not out boozin’ and cruisin’?” Dean offered, and his brother smiled weakly at that.
“Whenever your life is boring, I suspect that you’re hiding things from me.” He paused, looking up. “Like why you’re holding a study guide for the ACT?”
Dean looked down, having forgotten that he was still holding the book. “Oh, yeah, this old thing? No big deal. I’m just going back to school,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug. Sam’s jaw dropped and Dean could practically see his tail start wagging.
“No big deal?! Dean, that’s great! What made you decide to go back?”
He thought very carefully about his answer-before deciding on the truth. “It was something Cas said…Actually, it was a lot of things Cas said. Anyway, point is, I’m going to stop doing what Dad wanted me to do and do what I want to do.”
For a second, he thought Sam was about to do something embarrassing, like cry, or hug him, but finally, he just smiled, and said, “That’s…That’s great.”
He smirked. “And about friggin’ time, too, right?”
“I wasn’t going to say it,” Sam admitted. “One of us has to have a sense of tact.”
“Hey! I have a sense of tact!”
“Yeah, you keep it right next to your sense of propriety,” he said with an eye roll and a fond bitchface (number 31). “Anyway, do you know what you’re going back for?”
He hesitated, suddenly embarrassed about revealing his two-year degree plan to his lawyer of a little brother. But, hey, what the hell. “I’m going to try to get certified as a paramedic.”
Sam kind of nodded and smiled absently, worrying Dean. Then, he looked up. “Oh! Sorry, I was just remembering how you’d always patch me up when we were kids. I always kind of secretly thought you’d make a great doctor.”
Dean laughed awkwardly. He’d never told Sam that for a while, that had been exactly what he wanted. “Sammy, the SAT confuses me. Can you really see me passing the MCAT?”
“Once you get caught up? Yeah, I can. I bet the only reason you’re finding that stuff hard is because you never tried in school. And also it’s been thirteen years.”
“Funny, that’s what Cas said, too…” He said, without thinking, and immediately wanted to bite the words back.
“So you’re still seeing Cas?” Sam asked, and, yeah, foot in mouth moment. Dean resisted the urge to clench his teeth.
“Uh, yeah. I’m seeing Cas,” he answered as vaguely and non-incriminatingly as possible.
Sam’s face fell, though. “I’m glad someone was here for you.”
“Sammy. What did I say about apologizing?”
“I know, but-you’re still keeping things from me.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asked with all the innocence he could muster.
“I mean, why did Bobby have to call me the day after…yeah? You never miss work.”
“Okay, Sam, new rule. You can apologize as many times as you like, but how about you quit with the personal questions and let me keep some semblance of privacy in my life? Got it?”
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, fine. Sorry…”
“There we go. Easy as pie. Speaking of which, I’m starving. Wanna get some takeout?” Dean asked, managing to relax.
“Yeah, I could eat. Um, Thai?” Sam said, seemingly thrown by the abrupt shift in conversation.
Dean smiled in response and went to go find the right menu from the pile of them on top of his refrigerator. A moment later, the grin slid off his face. Shit. He was supposed to have dinner with Cas in a few hours-with Sam showing up, it had completely slipped his mind. He grimaced and furrowed his brow. He’d have to give Cas a call, reschedule. He didn’t want to, but…Sam.
Quickly, he grabbed a menu at random, surprised that it was the right one, and threw it in Sam’s general direction before stalking off to his bedroom.
“Where are you going?” He asked, leaning across the side of the chair, straining for the menu where it had fallen onto the floor.
“Gotta make a phone call. Don’t cry too much while I’m gone, Samantha.” Sam rolled his eyes and continued to reach, seemingly refusing to get up.
He was calling before the door shut all the way. Cas answered on the second ring.
“Dean,” he said by way of greeting, and fuck, yeah, he was more than a little gay, because he loved the way his name sounded in Cas’ voice.
“Cas, hey,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in reply. He really read Dean too easily for comfort. But he couldn’t deny that secretly, he kind of liked that, too.
“Yes. Well, no. I mean, it’s not good, but it’s still kind of good-anyway, can we reschedule dinner?”
“What’s going on?”
He took a deep breath, unable to keep from smiling as he announced, “Sam’s here.”
“And I take it that’s going well?” Cask asked, his voice unreadable.
“Well, the bitch up and left him with his car and money, but me and him are okay again.”
There was a long silence. “Cas?” Dean prompted him.
“Don’t you think you’re letting him off kind of easy, considering what he said to you?” he replied, finally. Dean wasn’t sure to react. His initial instinct was to snap something back-no one, no one, got to hate on Sammy while he was around. Then again, Cas was only angry because Dean had been hurt, and that made those gross girly feelings in him squirm gleefully. So he thought carefully before answering.
“I figure he’s been through enough, today…And besides, he’s my brother. There’s really nothing I wouldn’t forgive him for.”
“I know. I know,” he said gently. A pause, “And we can have dinner anytime.”
“You sure, Cas?” Dean asked.
“I understand how important your brother is to you.”
Dean couldn’t speak for a long time, absurdly working his jaw and trying to figure out how he got so lucky, ending up with a guy like Cas. “Thank you,” he managed, after a long time.
“I’ll speak with you later, then,” he replied, and hung up. Not one for long goodbyes, his Cas.
He locked his phone and pushed it back into his pocket, striding back into the living room to finish repairing his relationship with his little brother.
17. Born inside the gates of the family
Castiel was in a state of panic. This was not something that happened frequently, or, really, at all. Not unless his family was involved. And they were involved. They were very, very involved.
Gabriel was the only other Novak who lived in the area-in a larger town about thirty minutes away, and the others were scattered all over the country. Except that they weren’t. They were all coming to town under the guise of an “impromptu family reunion,” but Castiel knew that it was a cover up for “tormenting the black sheep and his new boyfriend for whom he quit his respectable career.” It was rude and invasive and definitely an overreaction, and exactly the kind of thing they would do. Especially now, when he was stressed about a million other things-getting hired somewhere, anywhere at this point not among the least of his concerns.
And they would be getting into town tomorrow. He didn’t bother protesting the indignity of it-his family didn’t work like that. Sure, they hadn’t done this when Jimmy had gotten serious about Amelia, but then, Jimmy had always been the perfect son-successful, if not too ambitious, a devout churchgoer, white-picket-fence type. No wars, no drugs, none of…everything that made Castiel himself.
Still, Castiel was expected to be there, and he was expected to bring his “young man,” as Michael had phrased it over the phone, the curling sneer obvious in his voice. He wasn’t sure how to break the news to Dean. A completely honest revelation would be, “Oh, hello, Dean, my family is in town and they insist on meeting you but don’t panic-you could act like Jesus and they would still judge you.”
There had to be a gentler way of approaching the subject than that. He briefly considered baking a pie, but decided against it. They were both adults. Bribery wasn’t the best option. Either way, better to get it out of the way as soon as possible. He found his phone, flipping it open and fumbling at the keys.
Dean,
Are you occupied at the present time?
Castiel
The reply came about a minute later.
No im not busy. Whats up?
Castiel sighed, as usual, at Dean’s inability to text with correct grammar.
Dean,
Would you be willing to come over? There is something I need to discuss with you.
Castiel
Instead of a reply, the phone rang no less than fifteen seconds later.
“Dean?” He began, but he was talked over.
“What did I do? That sounded suspiciously like a ‘we need to talk,’ and those conversations never end well,” Dean said, sounding mildly frantic.
Castiel blinked. “You haven’t done anything, and I apologize for my phrasing. But I would like to discuss it in person, if that’s okay,” he said.
“At least tell me if it’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Dean said, more relaxed, but with trepidation still present in his voice.
Castiel considered. “I really should let you make that distinction. When can you be here?”
“I’m leaving now,” he said, and Cas could hear the faint jingle of a keyring.
The drive from Dean’s apartment to Castiel’s house took ten minutes, on average. Five minutes after they hung up, there was a knock on his door.
“It’s open,” he called casually, and immediately he heard the sound of someone entering. He had no doubt that it was Dean from the footsteps that approached, thundering, but somehow gingerly.
He sat down in the chair across the kitchen table from Castiel and asked, “You wanna tell me what’s going on, now?”
He sighed, swirling the dregs of his coffee. “My family is in town.”
“Um. Okay?”
“Let me finish. My family is in town-and they want to meet you.”
Dean blinked. “That’s a little soon, don’t you think?” And it was true-though neither of them was exactly sure when they had begun…whatever it was, it had still only been roughly two months ago.
“Well, yes, but, my family is…”
“Dude, don’t say your family is crazy. Everyone thinks that their own family is crazy.”
And Dean would know better than most about crazy families. “I wasn’t going to say crazy. I was going to say overbearing and generally full of assholes. I don’t get along with them, they generally don’t get along with me. Haven’t you wondered why I never go visit?” The panic was welling up again, causing the pitch and speed of his words to increase.
“Cas-it’s alright. I’ll…I’ll meet them, okay? I’ll even pull out my suit, and be on my best behavior,” Dean said, trying to calm him down.
“I’m glad you’re going willingly, because there is no avoiding them. I wouldn’t put kidnapping past Luke,” he admitted with a frown.
“C’mon…they can’t be that bad…”
“Dean, you remember what I told you about my father, right?” When he nodded, Castiel continued. “Well, he may be dead, but my uncles are doing a damn good job filling his shoes. All four of them.”
“Oh. Um. I’ll be on my best behavior?” He offered again, and Cas smiled weakly into his cold, congealing coffee.
“Just…expect them to be rude. Subtlety is not a strong art in the Novak line.”
“Seriously, Cas. I’ll be Prince Charming. After all, don’t want them thinking you have bad taste. Anyway, when does this shindig go down?”
He grimaced, though, overall, this conversation was going much better than he’d expected. “Tomorrow night, at Gabriel’s house.”
He paled and might have flinched. “That’s uh…That’s a little soon, don’t you think?” He repeated with a weak laugh. Castiel didn’t return it.
“They didn’t want me to be able to find an excuse to not be there,” he admitted seriously.
“You know, they actually do kind of sound like a bunch of dicks,” Dean said after a long silence.
“Finally, you begin to understand,” Castiel said with a mock sigh, and he didn’t miss how the corners of Dean’s mouth quirked up at that-he always smiled whenever he proved he had a sense of humor. Nevertheless, he sobered. “There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to be just like them, to impress…well, my father, mostly, but them, too.”
“Well, thank god you got over that. Seriously, Cas-don’t ever change.”
“Thank you, Dean,” he replied, voice soft.
“What for?”
“You’ve…I’m much calmer now.” His hands were steady, his limbs less fidgety.
“Uhh-no problem. The calling-at-one-in-the-morning thing doesn’t just go for me, Cas,” Dean said, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and while it was endearing, Castiel was filled with horror.
“Tell me it isn’t actually one in the morning,” he demanded before looking at the clock for himself. It was, indeed, one fifteen in the morning. He groaned and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the table. “I should have been to bed hours ago,” he complained into the wood surface.
Dean laughed lightly, and said, “Well, now that I know you’re not planning on dumping me immediately, should I go home?”
He hesitated, wavering, but stopped Dean before he was fully out of his chair. “Actually, stay?” It was the first time he’d asked Dean to stay the night with him.
“I…have to work tomorrow morning,” he said regretfully, and Castiel nodded. “So don’t bite my head off when I have to get up early, okay?”
He smiled lightly, and pushed his chair back to stand up. “In that case, I believe I feel exhaustion overwhelming me.” It was a blatant lie-his earlier…anxiety had left him as wide awake as a full pot of coffee would have.
Dean smiled in return. “Sure, Cas,” he said disbelievingly, but followed his lead, following him to the bedroom. When he had bought it, Castiel had thought that having such an absurdly large bed was pointless-he spent his nights alone, and didn’t move around much in his sleep. Now, though, he felt it one of the best purchases he’d ever made. Dean filled the void on the other side, made him feel like he wasn’t drowning alone in an endless sea of blankets. It was an odd metaphor, but he’d woken up once or twice, in the dead of night, and found himself thinking along that line.
Never when Dean was there, though. Unselfconsciously, he shucked off his shirt and jeans, and Dean did the same, leaving them both in just boxers. Under the blankets, he wrapped his arms around Castiel from behind, pulling their bodies together until they were touching from shoulders to feet, legs tangling casually. Castiel relaxed against him, comfortable, cherishing this human closeness. A few seconds passed, and he felt the press of lips to the back of his neck, from the knob of his spine up into his hair. He made a small pleased sound and turned his face.
Dean’s mouth trailed over, breath ghosting in his ear, making Castiel shiver, before travelling over his jaw line and finally reaching his own lips. They moved together, soft, yielding. The angle was bad, so he shifted a bit so that his shoulders were flat on the bed, Dean leaning over him. He opened his mouth, felt Dean’s tongue brush his own, and shivered. He wanted Dean, had never stopped wanting him, despite his secret oath that he would respect himself enough to take things slowly in a relationship-especially one that mattered. But Dean was beautiful, a good man, burning a little brighter than most. His eyes spoke the volumes his mouth wouldn’t reveal, his lips were almost too perfect to be real, and Castiel just loved every feature on his face, every line of his body. The light splash of freckles that had appeared on his face as the days lengthened into high summer, the bow-legged way he walked, as if his knees had never met. Castiel wanted him, wanted him on top of him, under him, around him, inside of him.
The thought of their bodies coming together was almost enough to make him give in, fueled by memories of that first night they had been together, desperate, passionate abandon. The ghosts of sensations trailed over his skin, images flashing in his mind’s eye, broken like recollections of a fever dream. It was almost enough to convince him to take the next step, see if Dean was ready, but he remembered that he would be seeing his family in less than twenty-four hours, and the last thing he needed was an afterglow.
Another night, then, he thought, pulling away from Dean with a last lingering kiss and leaning back against his chest again. Another night. Soon.
18. Held inside the family gathering
He immediately felt guilty for thinking it, but Cas was a little bit adorable when he was on the verge of panic. Whereas Dean tended to yell and stomp around and shut everyone out when he was stressed, Cas rushed around in full OCD-mode, making sure every little thing was just so. Honestly, Dean would have found it fucking annoying if he wasn’t so goddamn earnest about it.
Plus, he couldn’t deny that it was nice to see Cas in those well-fitting suit trousers again.
If he were to be really honest with himself, though-something that Dean tried to avoid on principle, but, hey-he’d admit that he was looking for distractions, that Castiel’s family vaguely terrified him, for all that he hadn’t met any of them.
Michael, apparently, was some CEO in New York state, Raphael a high-ranking FBI officer and ex-army ranger, Lucifer-Luke, Luke-the owner of a large pharmaceutical corporation, and Gabriel a television executive. By the way Cas’ voice had gone tight and reluctant at the last one, Dean rather suspected that Gabe actually owned a porn studio. Anna and Jimmy had more, well, normal careers, but still, Dean couldn’t help but feel threatened. He was a mechanic with a GED-how could he hope to make a good impression on people like that (porn studio ownership aside)?
It was almost as disturbing how much he wanted to make a good impression. Really, on the one hand, he was Dean Winchester, he did what he wanted, and fuck you, but on the other hand, and only because he was being honest with himself…Cas meant a lot to him. And Dean, more than most, understood the importance of family. Would he dump Cas if Sam absolutely hated him? Well…he’d certainly evaluate their relationship pretty harshly.
Sam. That was another thing he was dreading. He couldn’t put off telling his little brother about him and Castiel for much longer.
Still, there wasn’t much time to worry about that, because Dean was tying Castiel’s tie, and they were both buttoning up their jackets-it was time to go. Cas was fidgeting and twitchy, so unlike his typical stoicism, and, wow, could they really be that bad? Maybe Dean wasn’t nervous enough. And with that unpleasant thought, he put the key in Baby’s ignition, and took off from Cas’ house.
They made the drive in silence, but about ten minutes in, Castiel took Dean’s hand in a death grip and didn’t release it until they pulled into the-obscenely huge, ostentatious, pretentious-as-fuck-gated community where Gabriel’s house was located. His circulation finally returned when he put the Impala in park in front of an equally pretentious-as-fuck house of river stone. His baby looked out of place amidst the BMWs, the Mercedes, the Porsches. Kind of like him.
He looked over, and Cas smiled weakly at him. At least he wasn’t alone.
They both hesitated a long while before Dean, resolute, opened his door and got out, Cas following suit less than a second later.
The front door to the house opened before Castiel managed to ring the doorbell, and the man standing in the threshold was wearing an expensive white suit and the sort of smarmy smile that stunk of money and self-importance. Dean immediately disliked him.
“Pretty boy, you made it,” the man said, gesturing widely.
“Gabriel,” Cas said coolly, inclining his head a fraction of a degree.
Gabriel craned his neck to see Dean, standing behind Cas. “And look! Your boyfriend’s even prettier than you are-but let’s hope he’s not as dumb as he looks. Yeah, I’ve heard all about you, Dean-o.”
Dean gritted his teeth, remembering Cas’ advice that everything would be easier if he were to completely disregard everything Gabriel said. He was making it difficult, though. “Nice to meet you too,” he managed at long last, not missing the relieved glance Cas sent his way.
“Well trained, too!” Gabriel exclaimed with an unctuous smile. “Come on in then, nephew and plus one. Everyone else is in the den.”
Gabriel turned around and walked into the depths of the house-mansion, really-leaving the door open for Dean and Castiel to follow. They trailed Gabriel at a distance, up a spiral flight of mahogany stairs and down a hallway that opened up into a room with ceilings so high that a herd of giraffes could fit comfortably inside. He was reminded disturbingly of the one Catholic church he’d ever been in, when he was thirteen and he and Sam had gotten lost on their way back to the motel of the week. The priest had been a grouchy old man who had only let them grudgingly stay until they could get a ride back. He felt the same sort of unwelcome emanating from this room, even though the people assembled within had smiles on their faces-to varying degrees.
Cas had given him a rundown of the family, pictures included. He could remember their names, at least. Jimmy was, obviously, the one who looked just like Cas, except somehow completely different. Same blue eyes, same hair, but Jimmy’s stare was sort of languid and open, rather than Castiel’s hard and focused. By his side was a woman-Amelia, with a girl between them-Claire. Gabriel had taken a spot leaning against the wall next to a man with blond hair and deep set eyes-that would be Lucifer, whom he must never call that. Luke.
On the other couch was a woman with pretty red hair. Cas’ sister, Anna. Out of everyone, her smile seemed the most genuine. Next to her was a dark-skinned man. Cas’ as-it-turned-out adopted uncle Raphael. He wasn’t smiling at all. Neither was the remaining man, sitting in a deep armchair, with dark hair like Cas’, but deep black eyes. Michael.
“Well, Castiel, gonna introduce your new boy-toy or what?” Gabriel prompted him after Dean had taken everything in.
Cas seemed to snap out of a daze. “Oh-yes. Uncles, sister, brother…Amelia, Claire, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, my family.”
“Ah-hi,” he said lamely, uncomfortable with so many eyes on him.
There was another silence, and he felt judged like he’d never felt judged before. Luke was the one to break it this time. “Well, I’d ask how you two met, but I’m afraid we’ve already heard the story.”
“Yes, I hope you’re worth a medical license and a respectable career,” added Raphael, in case Luke had been too subtle. The look on the man’s face said that he highly doubted it.
Well, that confirmed the judgment. Dean grimaced, unsure of what to say. Cas’ face was guarded, but his jaw was tight, clenched. He was reminded of Sam’s last few years before leaving for Stanford-constantly clashing with John, Dean mediating between the two of them, listening to each vent their frustrations about the other. He’d always wanted to reply, but he never had. It would have only made the situation worse.
Gabriel gestured at the remaining empty loveseat and said, “Well, you gonna hover in the doorway or sit down?” Stiffly, he followed Cas and took the seat next to him. His knuckles were white where they immediately clutched at the arm. He wasn’t any more relaxed himself.
After a moment, Anna leaned forward and smiled. “Hi, Dean. I’m glad I get to meet you, despite what my uncles have to say.” Dean smiled in return, weakly, glad for the reprieve. “Your family must seem nice compared to us, huh?”
We may have been dysfunctional as hell, but at least we didn’t have entire trees up our asses, he wanted to say. “Ah. It certainly seems…small, now,” he said instead.
“Oh?”
“It’s…just my brother and me, now,” he said weakly.
“I’ve heard of his brother,” Luke added, looking around and shrugging. “Lawyer, damn good one too if my…sources are correct.”
“You trying to recruit him for that company of yours?” Michael asked, speaking for the first time. Luke made a face-Cas said that they hadn’t gotten along well.
“So what if I am? Could always use a good legal representative.” Dean bristled-he didn’t like the sound of that, Luke trying to…obtain his brother, like Sam was a piece on a chessboard. “Anyway,” Luke went on, “Weren’t we talking about the elder Winchester. You know-the one who doesn’t have the law degree. Or, well, any degree.”
He bit the inside of his cheek-hard. This is Cas’ family-do not fuck this up, was running though his head, a mantra.
“Dean was too busy making sure Sam was able to succeed to focus on his own life,” Cas said lowly, his voice a growl, but every eye in the room was trained on him. “He all but raised his brother, is the one responsible for how he turned out. It’s more than you would have done in his situation, uncle.” Dean’s jaw dropped, cheeks going embarrassingly hot. He didn’t need to be defended like that-and some small, petty part of him resented it just a little bit, but at the same time, it was…touching.
“Whoa, touchy,” Luke replied affably, unaffected by the daggers Castiel was glaring at him. “You don’t need to make excuses for your boyfriend.”
Unbelievably, Castiel tensed even further, but his mouth remained shut, even though Dean could see how much strain was in his jaw, keeping it closed. So, protective Cas. Apparently a thing. A pinch of disturbing, a splash of embarrassing, with a generous serving of holy fuck that’s kind of hot.
He looked around quickly. Totally the wrong place to be thinking such things. Nonetheless, despite the staring thing that appeared to be an inherited trait, there didn’t seem to be any mind readers in the room.
“So,” Gabriel asked after a moment of haughty silence, and Dean just knew he was going to say something douchey, “You raised your brother, cool. How’s that working out with the alcoholism?”
Castiel barked out a harsh, “Gabe!” as Dean put on his brightest front, his most false smile, and said, at the same time, “Peachy, thanks.” Inside, he was fuming.
“You know,” Luke said lazily, “I read recently that something like three fourths of all alcoholics relapse within two years. How about them odds, Dean?”
“I actually think I can handle it,” Dean said, striving for something vaguely close to civility. It wasn’t going to last long.
Gabriel laughed, and replied, “You know, I can kind of see what attracts my nephew to you, Dean-o. You’re just like him, ten years ago. Only a lot less…what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Emo?” Raphael said in a rumble, not bothering to look up from where he was picking at his nails.
With an exaggerated expression of consideration, Gabriel eventually shrugged. “Not what I was thinking, but it works. A lot less emo and a lot more…butch.”
A sidelong glance at Cas showed that they were both uncomfortable, one of his hands still gripping the couch tightly, the other wrapped protectively around his midsection. Suddenly, Dean’s anger evaporated into hopeless misery, and he hated seeing Cas the same way. And when he thought of what Cas had told him, about coming off the drugs, about his attempted suicide-Dean’s stomach leapt in horror even thinking about that-he got angry again. How could they make light of their nephew’s problems like that? What kind of family were they? Before he knew what was happening, the words were spilling out of his mouth.
“Look, guys, say whatever you want about me. I probably deserve that and more. But don’t talk trash about Cas-not to me.” He managed to shut up there, but there was so much more running through his head. He’s been to the wire for me, he’s seen me at my worst, he’s the one who saved me, and none of you were there for him. He’s gone through all of this shit already-but he had to do it on his own. He’s strong. You shut the fuck up about him.
Gabriel threw his hands up. “Easy, lover boy. It’s all in good fun between a nephew and his favorite uncle.”
Dean didn’t answer, kept his head held high, looked straight at Gabriel.
“Alright, alright, geez. I get it. No more fun at Cas’ expense.” He and Castiel both frowned at Gabriel’s use of the nickname. It kind of warmed Dean, as did his victory. He had a feeling that it would really only make the night harder for him, though.
And he was right. The Novak family was paramount when it came to snide remarks. Still, in between blows to his ego, he learned a disturbing amount about the family. Jimmy was a tax accountant, and had never been close to Cas, despite their sharing the same womb for nine months. Anna-which turned out to be short for Anael-was a painter, moderately famous for her unusual renderings of angels. Michael was possibly the most domineering, douchetastic person he’d ever encountered. Raphael and Castiel apparently did not speak to one another. At all. Luke was downright terrifying. And his earlier impression that there was absolutely no filter between Gabriel’s brain and his mouth was confirmed-several times. Also, he did, in fact, own a porn studio. The rights to the entire Casa Erotica saga? Owned by Gabriel Novak. Finally, and while it was more implied than outright stated, the oldest of the brothers, Castiel’s father, was not to be mentioned. Ever.
Nevertheless, the absolute greatest impression he got was that the Novak family was full of assholes.
Apparently, even they agreed.
Gabriel and Luke had been arguing over…something pointless, in Dean’s opinion; he had tuned out about two minutes previously. At least it wasn’t another discussion (which had quickly turned into a bet) on how long it would take Dean to go back to drinking.
Finally, Gabriel threw his hands up and declared, “You know what, Luci? You’re my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”
Dean’s jaw dropped, and he looked around nervously, seeing if Gabriel was about to get…smote or something, but no one else looked concerned. Then, an honest to god butler walked in, uniform and everything, and diffused the tension by announcing that “dinner was served in the west dining hall.”
The west dining hall. Did that mean there was more than one? Dean didn’t even have a kitchen table. Rich family. Rich assholes. He grimaced, wishing beyond hope that he and Cas could just leave. Castiel wasn’t any happier than he was, even if he hadn’t had another outburst. Hadn’t said much of anything, actually. One or two words answers, and only then when asked a direct question that couldn’t be answered with a nod or a shake of his head.
Everyone stood, and Dean awkwardly joined them, hanging back a moment to walk with Cas, though, who was taking his time. However, the moment they were alone in the room, Castiel spun Dean around to face him and pulled hard on the collar of his suit jacket, not so much kissing him as blindly smashing their faces together.
After a while, he broke off, asking, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?”
“I…what you said earlier. No one’s ever stood up for me like that.”
“You did the same for me, literally minutes before,” Dean reminded him. Castiel looked down, and Dean appreciated being those few inches taller than the other man-his face, shadowed, blue eyes downcast through his lashes, was a gorgeous sight, making his stomach clench in the same way it had when Cassie had first agreed to go on a date with him.
“But you deserve it,” Castiel murmured.
“Hey, hey, Cas. Look at me,” Dean said in reply, raising a hand to gently run his fingers over Castiel’s jaw and cheek as he slowly raised his head. “What I said about not talking trash about you? You don’t get to do it either. Especially not to me-after everything you’ve done.”
There was a moment when an odd tension grew between them-not a bad one, not even close, the same sort of thrill that Dean used to get at bars when a girl asked him back to her place. Blue met green, and Cas’ mouth fell open like he was going to say something.
The moment was cut short, though, by Gabriel popping back into the room, causing Castiel to step back quickly and close his mouth with an audible click. “Hey, Castiel, Dean-o, dinner’s gonna get cold-aww, isn’t that cute! Love is in the air!” he chirped, gleefully smug.
“Yeah, and my foot’s about to be up your ass,” Dean growled before remembering himself. Cas’ eyebrows drew together, and Dean gritted his teeth and braced himself to apologize, but Gabriel barked out a laugh.
“Well, he certainly does talk back! I gotta admit, Castiel, I do like this one, everything aside. Much better than the last one you brought home-what was it, eight years ago? She was a prissy little bitch. What was her name again? Rebecca? No, that’s not it…Oh, yeah, Rachel!”
“Gabe.”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Is that how you talk to your favorite uncle?”
“You’re only my favorite because your brothers are somehow even worse than you,” Cas retorted, voice sounding like gravel.
“Harsh! I’m wounded! Anyway, dinner, chop chop.”
“So, Rachel,” Dean said, once he was certain that the mood from before Gabriel’s sudden appearance was gone for good.
“Dean,” Cas said warningly.
“Seriously-eight years?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Dean said, managing a grin before remembering that he’d have to go to dinner and face everyone again. The smile slid off his face like rancid oil. “Should we go?”
Cas sighed. “I suppose we must.”
Part Three | Part Five