Suburban War - Chapter 6, Part 2
Once baseball season starts up, Dean’s life becomes even more hectic and frustrating. Hectic, because if he’s not in school, he’s either doing something baseball-related like practice or playing in a game, or he’s studying hard, prepping for finals that are just around the corner. The frustration stems from feeling like an idiot because, now that he’s aware of his feelings for Castiel, he’s turned into a pansy ass that would rather avoid his best friend than deal with the fact that he’s fallen in love with him.
He has tried convincing himself that this is just a fluke, something that will die out and revert back to more platonic feelings, but deep down he knows that’s bullshit. He’s had these feelings about Castiel for years; if he’s completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been in love with Castiel all along. This thing between them runs so much deeper than any bond Dean has with other people. It’s a part of him, something as inherent and vital as any limb could be.
Still, he stays away from Castiel, not sure when or how or even if he wants to reveal his feelings. Given everyone’s busy schedules at this time of year, it’s not difficult to find other ways to keep himself occupied. When he finds himself around Castiel, he does his best to keep his eyes elsewhere and pretend he’s too distracted or busy to talk. He can tell that Castiel is confused and frustrated by his actions, but he doesn’t call Dean out on it.
But when he feels he can do so safely, Dean watches. From the corners of his eyes, Dean watches Castiel reading in the library on study break, perusing and turning the pages of his book with a sharp eye that Dean wishes was looking at him.
He watches as Castiel chuckles at a joke a friend makes in the hallway between classes, and Dean wishes he was the reason for the throaty laugh.
He watches across the lunchroom after playing hooky from geometry, as Castiel slides a hand through his hair, slender fingers massaging the nape of his neck, and Dean wishes those fingers were sliding through his own hair, and teasing along his own skin.
He watches as Castiel smiles at something someone says to him, and Dean wishes he was the one to make those eyes crinkle in amusement.
He watches as Castiel licks his lips before opening his mouth to speak, and Dean wishes he was the one licking those lips, parting them with his own tongue and diving in.
And he watches, for once without fear of being caught, when Castiel is on the field during their baseball games. He watches because Castiel is electrifying on base. It only took his first few games of Castiel completely mind-fucking the opposing team’s defense before word got around to the rest of the league to do what they could to keep that Novak kid off base. Which, of course, meant that coach moved him up in the batting order, making him lead off.
Whenever and however Cas gets on first base, it’s all but guaranteed that he’ll find a way to get to second. Whether he’ll distract the pitcher enough to rattle him and make him give up a pitch to the next batter, or he’ll just be too damned fast and sneaky for them to keep him from stealing second, Castiel’s trip to second base is inevitable. And once he’s on second, it’s only a matter of time before he makes it to third, and Dean soon loses count how many times Cas has stolen home by getting the catcher so worked up he loses a pitch.
He moves with a fluidity and economy of motion that takes Dean’s breath away. It’s a stunning sight to see, and one that Dean is sorry to give up, once Coach moves Dean up in the batting order. He knows it’s a compliment and a reward for being such a valuable player, but it almost feels like a punishment. He’d much rather sit on the bench and watch Castiel in all his glory. It does him no help that Castiel in a uniform is a distraction bordering on painful, and Dean is pretty damn convinced that Castiel got one size too small because there’s no way those pants should be that tight.
Occasionally, Dean can feel Castiel looking at him, but the glimpses of pain and dejection that war across his friend’s face before he has a chance to school his features cut Dean with feelings of guilt so deep that he avoids Castiel even more. He’s never been good at dealing with feelings, his own or others’, and he knows his fear of losing Castiel is pushing him even further away and hurting them both in the process. But there is still that underlying fear of rejection that Dean can’t shake despite what Charlie told him.
The dam breaks their first weekend of summer break. It’s summertime, which used to mean freedom and Castiel and pretending they’re anywhere but stuck here in Kansas. But right now, all it means is boredom, feeling claustrophobic and like he can’t breathe. Dean wants those long, lazy, summer days back. He wants his best friend back. He wants to be the person he always thought he could be, and he makes the decision to be that out of left field Saturday evening, as he stares out his bedroom window at a sky turned dark orange on the horizon.
He clatters down the stairs, calling out to his mom in the kitchen. “Mom, is it cool if I take my bike out tonight?”
Mary walks into the living room from the kitchen, drying a plate with a dishcloth. “I suppose so, honey. But only until curfew.”
“Aw, mom, it’s summer break, can't I stay out later than ten?”
Sighing, Mary says, “Where are you going and who will you be with?”
Dean smiles, knowing his answer will get him what he wants. “I thought I’d go pick Cas up, maybe drive to Charlie’s for a bit.”
“Alright, you can stay out until midnight, but if you’re one second past that, you’ll be grounded,” Mary replies, rolling her eyes when Dean whoops.
He doesn’t bother to call Castiel to tell him he’s coming over; now that he’s decided to stop being such an asshole and avoiding his friend, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time. Another reason being that he wants to see the look of surprise on his face when he pulls up the driveway on his motorcycle, having kept it and getting his bike license a secret for this very reason.
He’s not disappointed as he sets the bike in park and turns the engine off, looking up to find Castiel standing in the doorway, mouth open in shock. He’s wearing ratty old cut-offs, and Dean can hardly tear his eyes away from his friend’s tanned, muscular legs as Cas clears his throat.
“What the hell are you doing, Dean?”
Dean can’t hide the grin that spreads across his face. “I’m picking up my best friend for a ride on my new bike.”
Castiel looks at Dean and the bike skeptically. “Do you even have a license for this thing?”
Scoffing, Dean twists around to pull the extra helmet off the back of the bike. “Dude, you really think my parents would let me on the road without having a license for it? My mom practically made me sign a teen driving contract in blood before allowing this.” He squints up the steps at Castiel, and beckons him forth with a hand. “Cas, come on before Missouri sees it. If she does, she’ll take three hours to do a safety inspection before letting you on it.”
Castiel shoots another unsure look at Dean. “I need to at least tell Missouri I’m going out.”
“Okay, fine, but hurry it up. The open road beckons,” Dean teases.
Castiel’s lip quirks in a way that sets the butterflies loose in Dean’s stomach, but he does what he can to ignore it. Sitting back in his seat, he looks up at the night sky, staring at the stars and breathing in the warm, damp air. This brings back so many memories of their youth together, though more often than not, they were staring up at the stars from Dean’s house instead of here.
His attention drifts back to the front door as Castiel steps out. Dean’s glad to see he’s changed from the shorts into a pair of torn jeans, knowing it’d be better for his legs in case the bike gets too hot or they have a spill. He watches as Castiel jogs up to him, eyes gleaming as he stares at Dean.
“Where are we going?” Castiel asks, reaching for the spare helmet in Dean’s hands.
Dean shrugs. “I dunno. There’s nothing to do, but we’ve never needed that before.”
Castiel’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at Dean, but he doesn’t comment as he slips the helmet on. Dean scoots forward on his seat to leave more room behind him, and he waits as Castiel slides onto the seat. He turns the key and starts up the engine as Castiel tries to get comfortable.
“Just hang onto me, and follow my lead, okay,” Dean yells over the engine. “Lean how I lean, and don’t shift around too much.”
“Okay,” Castiel yells, his voice muffled by the noise. Dean smiles when he feels Castiel grab onto his hips, laughing when Castiel yelps as the bike jumps forward, accelerating up the driveway and onto the street.
Once they maneuver out of Castiel’s neighborhood and hit the open road, Dean speeds up. He’s careful not to exceed the speed limit, his mom’s voice in the back of his mind imploring him to take care. He’s also not wanting to freak Castiel out too much, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like putting the fear of God into him a little bit, if for no other reason than it makes Castiel cling to him all the more tightly. His friend keeps his space for the first few minutes of the ride, only gripping Dean’s hips. But as the drive goes on, Castiel slides himself closer and closer to Dean, his hands finding their way around Dean’s sides until they’re splayed across his stomach. Castiel wraps himself around Dean, his body pressed against him from shoulder to groin, and Dean is thankful that Castiel can’t see the huge smile across his face.
This feels right, perfect, it feels like everything Dean wanted, and he doesn’t care that there’s nothing to do, or that these streets all look the same and go on and on, or that sometimes all he wants to do is keep on driving out of this fucking town and never look back. He doesn’t care because in this moment, his life is awesome, and he feels like anything is possible.
He realizes that he’s subconsciously been driving towards the lake, and fuck, how long has it been since he’s been out here? Probably not since that summer before high school started. As they turn onto the gravel road, he begins to slow down, the loose scree making driving at anything other than a crawl too treacherous and bumpy. He feels Castiel’s arms squeeze him tighter, and Dean wonders when the last time Cas was out here, as well, wonders if Castiel has been here without him. A part of Dean hopes not; he doesn’t like to think of Cas being able to visit “their” place without him.
As the path winds around and through the trees, it gets even harder to navigate, but Dean pushes on. It feels right that they’re coming here now, christening the bike with something from their past, and Dean’s heart twists once they finally make it through the clearing. It's dark now, and the moonlight reflects off the still water of the lake. Weeds and grass have grown up around the shore, as well as the cabin; iooks like no one’s been here in quite a while, and Dean feels guilty for the neglect.
He inches the bike up near the pier, cutting the engine off, his ears ringing in the sudden silence. They both keep still for a moment, and Dean is pleased when Castiel doesn’t unwrap himself from behind him for several long seconds. When he finally does pull back, Dean has to clench his fists around the handlebars to keep from leaning back into Castiel’s space.
“I can’t believe how fast everything has grown up around here,” Castiel murmurs.
Dean takes a deep breath, looks around at the overgrowth. He feels a little tug at the waistband of his jeans, and realizes with a tiny thrill that Castiel is playing with a belt loop on his jeans. He holds his breath and closes his eyes, reveling in the feel of his friend’s touch, albeit on the fabric of on his skin.
An owl shrieks and swoops down into the weeds in front of the cabin, breaking the moment. Dean starts, turning his head to watch as the owl flies away, and he can feel Castiel’s thumb slide across his back before he reaches up to pull his helmet off. He slides his leg over the back of the bike and stands up, Dean looking over his shoulder to watch him step away. Dean leans up and off the bike himself, placing his helmet on a handlebar before walking out onto the pier.
The wood creaks below his feet, and Dean uses the tip of his sneaker to brush away old cobwebs from the planks at the end of the pier. He stands there, looking out at the water before raising his head up to look at the sky. He hears Castiel walk up behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.
“I’d forgotten how peaceful it is out here,” Castiel whispers. “I can’t believe it’s been this long since I’ve been here.”
“We shouldn’t have taken so long to come back,” Dean replies.
He can feel Castiel step closer to him, the warmth of his body seeping into Dean’s back. “Why did it take so long for us to get back here?” Castiel asks, and Dean can hear in his voice that he’s asking about more than just the lake.
Dean sighs, turning around slowly to face his friend. Castiel searches his face, eyes roaming and delving deep, like he's trying so hard to see inside Dean, and Dean lets him, wills him to see what he doesn’t have the nerve to say. But Castiel doesn’t see it or maybe doesn’t want to see it, Dean doesn’t know; all he knows is that Castiel huffs quietly, shaking his head and looking to the boards beneath them in frustration.
“Cas, I…I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been a dick, and I’ve been trying to figure some things out, but I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” Dean watches his friend’s face, wanting to see some spark of realization of what he’s trying to say, but he finds nothing, just more confusion.
“What have you been trying to figure out?”
Dean shakes his head, and goddammit he’s not ready for this, so he resorts to telling half-truths. “I just…it’s this place, this town. I feel like it’s smothering me, like it’s trying to make me be someone I’m not. I, I feel like I can’t breathe here anymore.” Dean runs a hand through his hair and looks out at the water before continuing. “But I’m such a dumbfuck that I didn’t realize the only time I don’t feel that way, the only time I feel like I can breathe anymore, is…when I’m with you.”
Castiel looks up quickly at Dean, eyes sharp. “With me?”
Dean smiles. “Yeah. You’re the only one who knows the real me, and likes him. At least, I think you do,” he tries to joke, realizing that it’s all sounding lame and needy as fuck.
Castiel’s lip quirks. “I do. When you’re not being a douchebag and ignoring me or avoiding me, that is.”
Chuckling, Dean punches him lightly on the shoulder. “So, I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole, and it all stops now, okay? We’re good?”
Castiel nods, shoving his shoulder against Dean’s. “We’re good. Just so long as you know the next time you act that way towards me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Dean leans against Castiel’s side, enjoying his warmth and the little thrill that runs up his spine when neither of them pulls away. “Understood.”
********************
From then on, it’s as if Dean and Castiel never had any distance or unease between them and never were apart from each other. But, as far as Dean is concerned, things are even better than before because there’s a spark between them, and he feels as if something has begun to fan the flames of an ember that maybe always existed.
Dean knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel sits even closer to him, legs touching under booths when they go out for burgers, or when their hands brush against each other along the table. He knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel’s fingers linger as they graze down his back, urging him to hurry up as they walk to the treehouse. He knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel’s eyes glance down at his lips on more than one occasion as they stare at each other.
The spark between them becomes so electrified that Dean is surprised sometimes when he doesn’t find his hair standing on end. He can’t remember what his stomach feels like without a thousand butterflies fluttering inside it whenever Castiel is close. He lives in a perpetual state of subdued excitement every time he’s around Castiel, which lately, is almost every waking hour of every day.
The only times they’re not together is when Dean is working, having found a part-time job with a local carpenter for gas and spending money. Dean was originally supposed to work in Bobby’s garage, his dad having plotted it all out for him, but as much as Dean loves cars, he hated feeling pressured into molding himself into what his parents expected of him. It got his hackles up that they considered it a given that Dean would work there, no questions asked, no consideration of what he might like to do, but Dean couldn’t think of any alternatives that his parents would accept as a reason not to work at the garage. It was Castiel who saved the day for him.
“Why don’t you find a carpenter who's looking for an apprentice?” Castiel suggests a few days after their return to the lake, interrupting Dean's bitching about starting work at the garage the following week. “You loved building this treehouse, didn’t you?”
Dean sits up from where he’s slouched on the beanbag. He stares out the window of the treehouse, watching the rain fall through the leaves. “You think I could? I dunno if I could convince someone to pay me to basically just stand there and be in the way.”
Castiel chuckles. “I hardly think that’s all you’d do.” He stares at Dean in contemplation for several seconds. “You know, I think Missouri has a cousin who’s a carpenter. I could ask her about it.”
And that’s how Dean begins his professional relationship with finish carpenter Rufus Turner, one of the orneriest people that Dean has ever had the fortune to meet. The man stares after Dean with so much disapproval on his face as he watches him clumsily make his way through the workshop, that if Dean didn’t already know he was related to Missouri he would have bet money on it.
But Dean has had plenty of practice dealing with ornery people, having grown up around both Bobby and Missouri, so he’s wormed his way into Rufus’s good graces within his first week, though the old man would never admit it himself. Dean’s giddiness at working in a real carpentry shop has Rufus scowling and growling for Dean to get out of his way, but more than once Dean has spied a smile on the old man’s face when Dean does something right without having to be told twice how to do it.
Dean loves being at work and in the shop more than he’d thought was possible, and when Rufus doesn’t have him elbow deep in the cleanup of sawdust and shavings, he's picking the man’s brain about the tools of his trade and which different types of wood are best for which furniture. Dean immerses himself in the craft, checking books out at the library to read up on it each night before going to sleep.
John and Mary were somewhat confused and concerned when Dean first told them he’d rather work at Rufus’s shop than Bobby’s garage. John, in particular, seemed upset that Dean wouldn’t want to follow in his footsteps, but when Dean explained to them both why he was interested in carpentry, and how the treehouse was what first piqued his interest in the craft, they both relented, albeit with reservations. Dean had to clench his fists and bite his tongue to keep from snapping at them, reminding himself once again that not so long ago he’d given them many a reason to think the worst of his choices and actions.
The rest of that summer is spent in a blur of working a few hours each morning of the work week with Rufus, then his afternoons and evenings with Castiel. Sometimes they get together with Charlie and the other gamers, but they never seem to hang out very long, choosing instead to go off to be by themselves. It’s never a conscious or stated choice on their part; their eyes always inevitably find each other, one eyebrow rising up to signal that it's time to go. But whenever they leave, it’s not to go their separate ways. They usually either venture out to the lake for a quick swim or fishing, or make their way back to Dean’s house, climbing up into the treehouse in the cover of night amidst whispers and laughter.
Dean finds himself driving slower on his bike when he has Castiel’s arms wrapped around him, delaying each moment so that he can feel Castiel against him for as long as possible. And as the days and nights wear on, he can feel Castiel growing bolder, pulling himself tighter against Dean’s back, so tight that sometimes Dean can’t tell anymore where he ends and Castiel begins.
It’s the quiet moments after he’s parked the bike and turns off the engine, the overwhelming silence pushing in against them in the absence of the roar of the motor, when Dean can feel them both standing on the edge of this precipice. He wonders sometimes if either one of them will have the nerve to take that final step, or if something will have to push them both off the cliff, lungs gasping for air and hearts beating out of their chests.
He gets his answer late one night about halfway through summer vacation.
Castiel is sleeping over once again, and they’re both curled up on top of their sleeping bags in the treehouse. There’s a storm brewing to the west, and they have the windows open in the treehouse to take advantage of the rain-cooled breeze wafting in ahead of the storm front. Cas is telling Dean about gaming night at Charlie’s the night before, Dean having canceled at the last minute because he’d stayed late at Rufus’s and was too tired to play.
“So, Charlie picked Inias over Ed as her next knight? I bet that didn’t sit too well,” Dean chuckles.
Castiel grins. “I had to listen to Ed complain about it until Inias tasked me to help him place his archers. I’d probably still be listening to him if Inias hadn’t saved me.”
“Oh man, I am not looking forward to the next meeting then,” Dean complains, punching his pillow to make it fluffy before laying back down on his back. They lie there in companionable silence for several minutes, Dean staring up at what stars are left to see through the skylight before the storm clouds take over. He’s about to reach over and turn off the lamp so they can go to sleep when Castiel speaks up.
“Inias says I’m good at strategy, says I can see things other people might miss,” Castiel says.
His voice is tentative, so much so that Dean turns his head to look at him. Castiel is staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Oh yeah?” Dean prods, and he sees Cas swallow before he replies.
“Inias asked me out.”
The bottom falls out of Dean’s stomach. His skin goes cold and clammy, and as he turns his head to stare back up at the ceiling, it’s all he can do to keep the bile from rising up his throat. “What?” he husks back, hoping like hell he heard wrong.
“Inias asked me on a date,” Castiel continues. “It was…odd. He’s been very friendly for a while now, but I assumed that’s just the way he is.”
“What did you say?” Dean forces the words out of his throat, hoping his friend can’t hear the anguish in his voice. He should have fucking known this was going to happen. Cas would like someone like himself, someone smart and creative and talented, like Inias. Not a loser like Dean.
The air is quiet between them, tense. Dean’s not sure if it’s just him feeling it, or if it’s mutual. It’s probably just him. Like all of this has all just been him, one-sided and pathetic. He sees out of the corner of his eye when Castiel turns his head to look at him, staring at the side of his face.
“I told him I needed to think about it,” Castiel replies.
Dean scoffs. “What’s there to think about?” He knows his voice sounds bitter, but he can’t help it. “The guy’s cool, right? He likes the same kind of stuff as you, he’s smart and paints and is all suave and shit,” he spits out. “He thinks you're good at strategy. It’s a no-brainer.”
Castiel turns, looking back up at the ceiling before replying. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s too suave and, I don’t know, experienced for me. I’ve never dated anyone before. Hell, I’ve never even kissed anyone except-”
Castiel cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence, but it hangs there. They both know what the exception to that sentence is, and it rockets the tension in the air to an almost unbearable degree.
“Can…” Castiel starts, and Dean waits a few seconds to see if he’ll continue, but he doesn’t.
“Can what?” Dean finally presses.
Castiel sighs next to him. “Would you be willing to practice with me? Like we did before?”
Dean turns his head quickly to stare at his friend’s profile, as Castiel pointedly keeps his eyes focused on the skylight above them. “What?” Dean asks, unable to believe his ears.
Castiel lets loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to be kissing someone as experienced as Inias when all I’ve ever done is one awkward kiss in junior high.”
“It wasn’t awkward!” Dean protests.
“Yes, well, even so, I’d like a bit more guidance. And since you seem to have gotten plenty of experience, I thought maybe you could help,” Castiel says, biting his lip.
Dean shuts his eyes closed tightly, not believing his luck, both good and bad. Good because kissing Castiel is something he’s been fantasizing about for months, among other scenarios. But so fucking bad because all Cas is wanting is to use him to prep for some other asshole, and how depressing is that?
“You don’t have to, it was a stupid idea, just forget-”
“Okay.”
Dean turns his head to find Castiel staring back at him, eyes wide. “Okay, what?” Castiel whispers.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” Dean croaks.
And they stare at each other, and Dean feels so much déjà vu. This is just like last time, but so completely different that it’s not even in the same galaxy. This time, this time, Dean wants this so much he feels like every nerve ending is about to burst from anticipation. This time, he’s going to savor every second, every taste of Castiel that he can wring free from the moment, since this time is probably going to be his last.
Dean scoots closer to his friend, biting back a sigh as he feels the warmth from the length of Castiel’s body against him. Castiel watches him, eyes searching Dean’s face for something, but Dean is too flustered to even consider what that might be. All he can think about, all that every molecule of his body is singing right now is yesyesyes as he leans in. He pauses just before he reaches Castiel’s lips, stares into his eyes, wanting to take a mental snapshot of this moment, but before he can continue further and reach his destination, Castiel leans in and closes the distance between them.
The first touch of lips is hesitant, so very much like their first kiss. But this time, this time, Dean knows what to do. He knows what he wants, even if he only has to pretend it’s for Castiel’s benefit. He presses his lips against his friend’s mouth, pulling back a fraction of an inch to get a glimpse at Castiel, eyes shut and lashes fanned against the skin beneath. Dean leans back in, mouth more firm this time, insistent. He keeps his lips closed, just enjoying the feel of Castiel’s mouth against his own and wanting to take his time.
When he feels Castiel’s tongue against the seam of his lips, Dean can't help the moan that escapes his throat. He opens himself up, sucking along the tip of Castiel’s tongue to welcome him in, and he hears Castiel grunt in surprise, feels his friend grab his shoulder to pull him closer. They slide next to each other, the thin cotton fabric of their t-shirts and shorts pressed between them, and this time is so very different from that last time, because this time Dean knows how fevered it will feel when he leans over Castiel, running a hand through his hair and stroking the side of his face, though the difference of stubble instead of soft skin is a pleasant surprise. This time, he knows how amazing it will feel to map out the entirety of Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, tasting and claiming it as his own, but what he doesn’t expect is how fucking hot it is when Castiel growls, pushing him onto his back so that he can cover Dean with his own body, licking deep into Dean’s mouth.
It’s so much better than the memory of before, that first kiss in junior high when Dean was too nervous and too weirded out that he wasn’t weirded out kissing a guy that he couldn’t enjoy the moment for what it was. And it’s so much better than all of his fantasies, because this is Cas, Castiel, in the flesh, pressed hot against Dean as if he’s just as eager and needing this as Dean is.
Castiel leans over Dean as he kisses him deeply, reaching a hand up to run fingers through his hair, thumb stroking along Dean’s forehead. The gentleness of it floors Dean even more than the insistence of soft lips against his own, his heart aching when he reminds himself that the caress isn’t really meant for him. He clenches his fist, holding onto the blanket underneath him to keep from grabbing onto Castiel, but when his friend begins kissing along his jaw Dean can’t help but slide his fingers over Castiel’s side, to ghost along his ribs. He ignores that little voice in the back of his mind telling him to stop, that this is too far, and selfishly takes all he can from the moment. His fingers splay across Castiel’s shoulder blade, moving with the flex of lean muscle as Castiel licks a spot at the bolt of Dean’s jaw.
Dean takes a shaky breath, unconsciously shifting his leg to open himself up more to his friend, and when he does, Castiel slides his own leg over Dean’s. The surprise of his friend's erection, hard against Dean's thigh, elicits a gasp of shock from Dean, and Castiel stops sucking along Dean’s neck. He doesn’t raise his head, though, and now that Dean isn’t distracted by all the kissing and sucking, he notices Castiel’s body trembling. “Cas?” he whispers, unsure of what the hard-on against his hip or the trembling body above him mean.
He can feel Castiel taking a deep breath, the exhale of warmth breath against his neck sending goosebumps tingling along his skin. Dean is frozen in place, waiting for Castiel to say something, anything, his body aching to resume the kissing and touching from before, his mind confused over just what the fuck all of this is. A crack of thunder splitting through the weighted silence makes them both jump, and Castiel raises his head to meet Dean’s stare.
They look at each other for several beats until Dean hears himself blurt, “Don’t go out with Inias.”
Castiel narrows his eyes, brows knitting together in confusion. “What?”
“Cas, this is…I don’t want you to go out with him,” Dean whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t stand to look at Castiel while he pretty much confesses his heart, it’s just too much.
“Okay.”
Dean blinks, eyes open and wide as they meet Castiel’s gaze. “What?”
“As long as you tell me why,” Castiel replies.
There is a moment when Dean considers telling Castiel to just forget it, go ahead and go out with the other guy, because that would be so much easier than confessing the truth, but he knows he can’t turn back now. After all of these years, he owes it to his best friend to tell the truth, difficult to say as it may be. “Because you belong with me,” he whispers finally, staring up at the skylight as a flash of lightning brightens the treehouse for a second.
“I know.”
Dean snaps his head to look back at Castiel. “I thought you liked Inias?”
Castiel drops his face into his hands, groaning. “I never said I like Inias.” He raises his head to return Dean’s stare. “The only person I’ve ever liked, the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with, is you.”
Dean stares at Castiel, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly for several moments because he doesn’t know what to say to that. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Castiel rolls over to lie on his back, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, as he stares up at the ceiling. “I just…you never gave any clues that you might be interested in guys. You just kept going out with girl after girl. I figured…I knew what we have is…different. But I thought I was the only one who wanted to take it further.”He pauses before turning his head to stare at Dean, who can’t pull his gaze away from his friend. “But lately, it’s seemed like maybe you were feeling the same as me.” Cas looks at him, eyes wide and searching. “The way you’ve been sitting closer, and touching me more…I wasn’t imagining it, was I?”
Dean notices the wary look in Castiel’s eyes, almost as if he’s still unsure of what’s happening. “No, you weren’t imagining it,” Dean admits. He can feel his face flushing, uncomfortable with admitting what he’s been trying to hide for months. “I dunno when it happened, really. I just kinda realized one day that I wanted more. But I figured you didn’t, so I held back, decided just to be happy with what I could get by just being friends.”
Castiel’s eyes drift to Dean’s lips, and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach begin doing somersaults again. “Can I kiss you again?” Castiel asks.
“God, yes, please,” Dean whispers, pulling Castiel closer when he leans up and over. And this third kiss is even more different than their first two, because this time neither of them holds back from showing how much they want it. Dean can feel a smile playing across Castiel’s mouth as he fits soft lips against his own, and he can’t help but grin, too. It’s obvious to Dean how inexperienced Castiel is, but the awkwardness of teeth clashing and too much saliva only make Castiel that much more adorable to Dean, though he wouldn’t say that out loud. But Castiel is a quick learner, and within minutes of studying Dean’s techniques in action, he’s able to pull a moan from the back of Dean’s throat with just the softest flick of his tongue.
Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist, pulling him tighter as their kisses become sloppier and dirty. Castiel shifts, maneuvering to slide himself between Dean’s legs, and fuck this is about to get all kinds of filthy really fast, but just as Dean’s about to roll his hips up to show Castiel just how much he’s into this, he hears a clatter down below the treehouse.
“Hey, Dean!” Sam bellows up from the bottom of the ladder. “Mom said I can sleep up here with you guys tonight so I can watch the thunderstorm!”
“Again, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean mutters, as Castiel pushes himself off and away clumsily. Dean sits up, grabbing a pillow to cover his hard-on, and he smirks as he watches Castiel bundling up a blanket to hide his own erection. When Castiel notices Dean smirking at him, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, but Dean still spies a quirk of his lip as his cheeks turn pink.
Sam’s dopey head and floppy hair poke up from the hole in the floor. “So you guys are still up?”
Dean chokes, clearing his throat to cover it up. “Uh, yeah, I think we’ll be up for a while.” He looks at Castiel when Sam turns his back and winks, but Castiel seems less than amused at the wordplay.
Sam looks over at Castiel. “It’s really hot in here, Cas. Why’re you all covered up in that blanket?”
Castiel’s eyes widen, looking all the world like a thief caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so Dean comes to his rescue. “Uh, Cas wasn’t feeling too good. I think he might be getting a fever or something. So uh, he was kinda cold.” Castiel shoots Dean a look of gratitude.
“Oh, well you can have my blanket too, Cas, if you’re still cold,” Sam ventures helpfully. Dean and Castiel watch as he unloads his backpack, pulling out a flashlight, book, juicebox, pillow, and blanket.
“No, thanks, Sam, I’ll feel better soon,” Castiel replies, staring at Dean so intently that Dean has to look away for a second. He looks back at Cas with a bashful smile in the next instant, and he hears Charlie in his head calling him a Disney princess.
“Okay, cool. I’m gonna watch out the window as the storm rolls in, if you guys wanna go to sleep, I’ll be quiet,” Sam says, sitting down at the bench underneath the window, completely oblivious to the shy, flirtatious smiles his brother and Castiel keep shooting each other.
“Yeah, sure, Sammy,” Dean answers, keeping his gaze locked on Castiel as he climbs back into his sleeping bag. Castiel follows suit, pulling his a bit closer to Dean, but not so close as to look suspicious to Sam. They each lie on their sides, facing each other. Dean slides a hand up to lie on the floor between them, and Castiel does the same, placing his hand just next to Dean’s, close enough for their pinky fingers to be touching.
They stare at each other, listening as the storm gets closer, Sam’s exultations of awe at the lightning breaking the silence in between thunder claps. Dean watches as Castiel’s eyelids grow heavy with sleep, and feels his own eyes grow heavy as he fails to hold back a yawn.
Just before he falls into slumber, he hears Castiel whisper, “Goodnight, Dean,” and he feels a hand cover his own.
********************
Next...
He has tried convincing himself that this is just a fluke, something that will die out and revert back to more platonic feelings, but deep down he knows that’s bullshit. He’s had these feelings about Castiel for years; if he’s completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been in love with Castiel all along. This thing between them runs so much deeper than any bond Dean has with other people. It’s a part of him, something as inherent and vital as any limb could be.
Still, he stays away from Castiel, not sure when or how or even if he wants to reveal his feelings. Given everyone’s busy schedules at this time of year, it’s not difficult to find other ways to keep himself occupied. When he finds himself around Castiel, he does his best to keep his eyes elsewhere and pretend he’s too distracted or busy to talk. He can tell that Castiel is confused and frustrated by his actions, but he doesn’t call Dean out on it.
But when he feels he can do so safely, Dean watches. From the corners of his eyes, Dean watches Castiel reading in the library on study break, perusing and turning the pages of his book with a sharp eye that Dean wishes was looking at him.
He watches as Castiel chuckles at a joke a friend makes in the hallway between classes, and Dean wishes he was the reason for the throaty laugh.
He watches across the lunchroom after playing hooky from geometry, as Castiel slides a hand through his hair, slender fingers massaging the nape of his neck, and Dean wishes those fingers were sliding through his own hair, and teasing along his own skin.
He watches as Castiel smiles at something someone says to him, and Dean wishes he was the one to make those eyes crinkle in amusement.
He watches as Castiel licks his lips before opening his mouth to speak, and Dean wishes he was the one licking those lips, parting them with his own tongue and diving in.
And he watches, for once without fear of being caught, when Castiel is on the field during their baseball games. He watches because Castiel is electrifying on base. It only took his first few games of Castiel completely mind-fucking the opposing team’s defense before word got around to the rest of the league to do what they could to keep that Novak kid off base. Which, of course, meant that coach moved him up in the batting order, making him lead off.
Whenever and however Cas gets on first base, it’s all but guaranteed that he’ll find a way to get to second. Whether he’ll distract the pitcher enough to rattle him and make him give up a pitch to the next batter, or he’ll just be too damned fast and sneaky for them to keep him from stealing second, Castiel’s trip to second base is inevitable. And once he’s on second, it’s only a matter of time before he makes it to third, and Dean soon loses count how many times Cas has stolen home by getting the catcher so worked up he loses a pitch.
He moves with a fluidity and economy of motion that takes Dean’s breath away. It’s a stunning sight to see, and one that Dean is sorry to give up, once Coach moves Dean up in the batting order. He knows it’s a compliment and a reward for being such a valuable player, but it almost feels like a punishment. He’d much rather sit on the bench and watch Castiel in all his glory. It does him no help that Castiel in a uniform is a distraction bordering on painful, and Dean is pretty damn convinced that Castiel got one size too small because there’s no way those pants should be that tight.
Occasionally, Dean can feel Castiel looking at him, but the glimpses of pain and dejection that war across his friend’s face before he has a chance to school his features cut Dean with feelings of guilt so deep that he avoids Castiel even more. He’s never been good at dealing with feelings, his own or others’, and he knows his fear of losing Castiel is pushing him even further away and hurting them both in the process. But there is still that underlying fear of rejection that Dean can’t shake despite what Charlie told him.
The dam breaks their first weekend of summer break. It’s summertime, which used to mean freedom and Castiel and pretending they’re anywhere but stuck here in Kansas. But right now, all it means is boredom, feeling claustrophobic and like he can’t breathe. Dean wants those long, lazy, summer days back. He wants his best friend back. He wants to be the person he always thought he could be, and he makes the decision to be that out of left field Saturday evening, as he stares out his bedroom window at a sky turned dark orange on the horizon.
He clatters down the stairs, calling out to his mom in the kitchen. “Mom, is it cool if I take my bike out tonight?”
Mary walks into the living room from the kitchen, drying a plate with a dishcloth. “I suppose so, honey. But only until curfew.”
“Aw, mom, it’s summer break, can't I stay out later than ten?”
Sighing, Mary says, “Where are you going and who will you be with?”
Dean smiles, knowing his answer will get him what he wants. “I thought I’d go pick Cas up, maybe drive to Charlie’s for a bit.”
“Alright, you can stay out until midnight, but if you’re one second past that, you’ll be grounded,” Mary replies, rolling her eyes when Dean whoops.
He doesn’t bother to call Castiel to tell him he’s coming over; now that he’s decided to stop being such an asshole and avoiding his friend, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time. Another reason being that he wants to see the look of surprise on his face when he pulls up the driveway on his motorcycle, having kept it and getting his bike license a secret for this very reason.
He’s not disappointed as he sets the bike in park and turns the engine off, looking up to find Castiel standing in the doorway, mouth open in shock. He’s wearing ratty old cut-offs, and Dean can hardly tear his eyes away from his friend’s tanned, muscular legs as Cas clears his throat.
“What the hell are you doing, Dean?”
Dean can’t hide the grin that spreads across his face. “I’m picking up my best friend for a ride on my new bike.”
Castiel looks at Dean and the bike skeptically. “Do you even have a license for this thing?”
Scoffing, Dean twists around to pull the extra helmet off the back of the bike. “Dude, you really think my parents would let me on the road without having a license for it? My mom practically made me sign a teen driving contract in blood before allowing this.” He squints up the steps at Castiel, and beckons him forth with a hand. “Cas, come on before Missouri sees it. If she does, she’ll take three hours to do a safety inspection before letting you on it.”
Castiel shoots another unsure look at Dean. “I need to at least tell Missouri I’m going out.”
“Okay, fine, but hurry it up. The open road beckons,” Dean teases.
Castiel’s lip quirks in a way that sets the butterflies loose in Dean’s stomach, but he does what he can to ignore it. Sitting back in his seat, he looks up at the night sky, staring at the stars and breathing in the warm, damp air. This brings back so many memories of their youth together, though more often than not, they were staring up at the stars from Dean’s house instead of here.
His attention drifts back to the front door as Castiel steps out. Dean’s glad to see he’s changed from the shorts into a pair of torn jeans, knowing it’d be better for his legs in case the bike gets too hot or they have a spill. He watches as Castiel jogs up to him, eyes gleaming as he stares at Dean.
“Where are we going?” Castiel asks, reaching for the spare helmet in Dean’s hands.
Dean shrugs. “I dunno. There’s nothing to do, but we’ve never needed that before.”
Castiel’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at Dean, but he doesn’t comment as he slips the helmet on. Dean scoots forward on his seat to leave more room behind him, and he waits as Castiel slides onto the seat. He turns the key and starts up the engine as Castiel tries to get comfortable.
“Just hang onto me, and follow my lead, okay,” Dean yells over the engine. “Lean how I lean, and don’t shift around too much.”
“Okay,” Castiel yells, his voice muffled by the noise. Dean smiles when he feels Castiel grab onto his hips, laughing when Castiel yelps as the bike jumps forward, accelerating up the driveway and onto the street.
Once they maneuver out of Castiel’s neighborhood and hit the open road, Dean speeds up. He’s careful not to exceed the speed limit, his mom’s voice in the back of his mind imploring him to take care. He’s also not wanting to freak Castiel out too much, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like putting the fear of God into him a little bit, if for no other reason than it makes Castiel cling to him all the more tightly. His friend keeps his space for the first few minutes of the ride, only gripping Dean’s hips. But as the drive goes on, Castiel slides himself closer and closer to Dean, his hands finding their way around Dean’s sides until they’re splayed across his stomach. Castiel wraps himself around Dean, his body pressed against him from shoulder to groin, and Dean is thankful that Castiel can’t see the huge smile across his face.
This feels right, perfect, it feels like everything Dean wanted, and he doesn’t care that there’s nothing to do, or that these streets all look the same and go on and on, or that sometimes all he wants to do is keep on driving out of this fucking town and never look back. He doesn’t care because in this moment, his life is awesome, and he feels like anything is possible.
He realizes that he’s subconsciously been driving towards the lake, and fuck, how long has it been since he’s been out here? Probably not since that summer before high school started. As they turn onto the gravel road, he begins to slow down, the loose scree making driving at anything other than a crawl too treacherous and bumpy. He feels Castiel’s arms squeeze him tighter, and Dean wonders when the last time Cas was out here, as well, wonders if Castiel has been here without him. A part of Dean hopes not; he doesn’t like to think of Cas being able to visit “their” place without him.
As the path winds around and through the trees, it gets even harder to navigate, but Dean pushes on. It feels right that they’re coming here now, christening the bike with something from their past, and Dean’s heart twists once they finally make it through the clearing. It's dark now, and the moonlight reflects off the still water of the lake. Weeds and grass have grown up around the shore, as well as the cabin; iooks like no one’s been here in quite a while, and Dean feels guilty for the neglect.
He inches the bike up near the pier, cutting the engine off, his ears ringing in the sudden silence. They both keep still for a moment, and Dean is pleased when Castiel doesn’t unwrap himself from behind him for several long seconds. When he finally does pull back, Dean has to clench his fists around the handlebars to keep from leaning back into Castiel’s space.
“I can’t believe how fast everything has grown up around here,” Castiel murmurs.
Dean takes a deep breath, looks around at the overgrowth. He feels a little tug at the waistband of his jeans, and realizes with a tiny thrill that Castiel is playing with a belt loop on his jeans. He holds his breath and closes his eyes, reveling in the feel of his friend’s touch, albeit on the fabric of on his skin.
An owl shrieks and swoops down into the weeds in front of the cabin, breaking the moment. Dean starts, turning his head to watch as the owl flies away, and he can feel Castiel’s thumb slide across his back before he reaches up to pull his helmet off. He slides his leg over the back of the bike and stands up, Dean looking over his shoulder to watch him step away. Dean leans up and off the bike himself, placing his helmet on a handlebar before walking out onto the pier.
The wood creaks below his feet, and Dean uses the tip of his sneaker to brush away old cobwebs from the planks at the end of the pier. He stands there, looking out at the water before raising his head up to look at the sky. He hears Castiel walk up behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.
“I’d forgotten how peaceful it is out here,” Castiel whispers. “I can’t believe it’s been this long since I’ve been here.”
“We shouldn’t have taken so long to come back,” Dean replies.
He can feel Castiel step closer to him, the warmth of his body seeping into Dean’s back. “Why did it take so long for us to get back here?” Castiel asks, and Dean can hear in his voice that he’s asking about more than just the lake.
Dean sighs, turning around slowly to face his friend. Castiel searches his face, eyes roaming and delving deep, like he's trying so hard to see inside Dean, and Dean lets him, wills him to see what he doesn’t have the nerve to say. But Castiel doesn’t see it or maybe doesn’t want to see it, Dean doesn’t know; all he knows is that Castiel huffs quietly, shaking his head and looking to the boards beneath them in frustration.
“Cas, I…I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been a dick, and I’ve been trying to figure some things out, but I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” Dean watches his friend’s face, wanting to see some spark of realization of what he’s trying to say, but he finds nothing, just more confusion.
“What have you been trying to figure out?”
Dean shakes his head, and goddammit he’s not ready for this, so he resorts to telling half-truths. “I just…it’s this place, this town. I feel like it’s smothering me, like it’s trying to make me be someone I’m not. I, I feel like I can’t breathe here anymore.” Dean runs a hand through his hair and looks out at the water before continuing. “But I’m such a dumbfuck that I didn’t realize the only time I don’t feel that way, the only time I feel like I can breathe anymore, is…when I’m with you.”
Castiel looks up quickly at Dean, eyes sharp. “With me?”
Dean smiles. “Yeah. You’re the only one who knows the real me, and likes him. At least, I think you do,” he tries to joke, realizing that it’s all sounding lame and needy as fuck.
Castiel’s lip quirks. “I do. When you’re not being a douchebag and ignoring me or avoiding me, that is.”
Chuckling, Dean punches him lightly on the shoulder. “So, I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole, and it all stops now, okay? We’re good?”
Castiel nods, shoving his shoulder against Dean’s. “We’re good. Just so long as you know the next time you act that way towards me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Dean leans against Castiel’s side, enjoying his warmth and the little thrill that runs up his spine when neither of them pulls away. “Understood.”
********************
From then on, it’s as if Dean and Castiel never had any distance or unease between them and never were apart from each other. But, as far as Dean is concerned, things are even better than before because there’s a spark between them, and he feels as if something has begun to fan the flames of an ember that maybe always existed.
Dean knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel sits even closer to him, legs touching under booths when they go out for burgers, or when their hands brush against each other along the table. He knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel’s fingers linger as they graze down his back, urging him to hurry up as they walk to the treehouse. He knows he’s not imagining it when Castiel’s eyes glance down at his lips on more than one occasion as they stare at each other.
The spark between them becomes so electrified that Dean is surprised sometimes when he doesn’t find his hair standing on end. He can’t remember what his stomach feels like without a thousand butterflies fluttering inside it whenever Castiel is close. He lives in a perpetual state of subdued excitement every time he’s around Castiel, which lately, is almost every waking hour of every day.
The only times they’re not together is when Dean is working, having found a part-time job with a local carpenter for gas and spending money. Dean was originally supposed to work in Bobby’s garage, his dad having plotted it all out for him, but as much as Dean loves cars, he hated feeling pressured into molding himself into what his parents expected of him. It got his hackles up that they considered it a given that Dean would work there, no questions asked, no consideration of what he might like to do, but Dean couldn’t think of any alternatives that his parents would accept as a reason not to work at the garage. It was Castiel who saved the day for him.
“Why don’t you find a carpenter who's looking for an apprentice?” Castiel suggests a few days after their return to the lake, interrupting Dean's bitching about starting work at the garage the following week. “You loved building this treehouse, didn’t you?”
Dean sits up from where he’s slouched on the beanbag. He stares out the window of the treehouse, watching the rain fall through the leaves. “You think I could? I dunno if I could convince someone to pay me to basically just stand there and be in the way.”
Castiel chuckles. “I hardly think that’s all you’d do.” He stares at Dean in contemplation for several seconds. “You know, I think Missouri has a cousin who’s a carpenter. I could ask her about it.”
And that’s how Dean begins his professional relationship with finish carpenter Rufus Turner, one of the orneriest people that Dean has ever had the fortune to meet. The man stares after Dean with so much disapproval on his face as he watches him clumsily make his way through the workshop, that if Dean didn’t already know he was related to Missouri he would have bet money on it.
But Dean has had plenty of practice dealing with ornery people, having grown up around both Bobby and Missouri, so he’s wormed his way into Rufus’s good graces within his first week, though the old man would never admit it himself. Dean’s giddiness at working in a real carpentry shop has Rufus scowling and growling for Dean to get out of his way, but more than once Dean has spied a smile on the old man’s face when Dean does something right without having to be told twice how to do it.
Dean loves being at work and in the shop more than he’d thought was possible, and when Rufus doesn’t have him elbow deep in the cleanup of sawdust and shavings, he's picking the man’s brain about the tools of his trade and which different types of wood are best for which furniture. Dean immerses himself in the craft, checking books out at the library to read up on it each night before going to sleep.
John and Mary were somewhat confused and concerned when Dean first told them he’d rather work at Rufus’s shop than Bobby’s garage. John, in particular, seemed upset that Dean wouldn’t want to follow in his footsteps, but when Dean explained to them both why he was interested in carpentry, and how the treehouse was what first piqued his interest in the craft, they both relented, albeit with reservations. Dean had to clench his fists and bite his tongue to keep from snapping at them, reminding himself once again that not so long ago he’d given them many a reason to think the worst of his choices and actions.
The rest of that summer is spent in a blur of working a few hours each morning of the work week with Rufus, then his afternoons and evenings with Castiel. Sometimes they get together with Charlie and the other gamers, but they never seem to hang out very long, choosing instead to go off to be by themselves. It’s never a conscious or stated choice on their part; their eyes always inevitably find each other, one eyebrow rising up to signal that it's time to go. But whenever they leave, it’s not to go their separate ways. They usually either venture out to the lake for a quick swim or fishing, or make their way back to Dean’s house, climbing up into the treehouse in the cover of night amidst whispers and laughter.
Dean finds himself driving slower on his bike when he has Castiel’s arms wrapped around him, delaying each moment so that he can feel Castiel against him for as long as possible. And as the days and nights wear on, he can feel Castiel growing bolder, pulling himself tighter against Dean’s back, so tight that sometimes Dean can’t tell anymore where he ends and Castiel begins.
It’s the quiet moments after he’s parked the bike and turns off the engine, the overwhelming silence pushing in against them in the absence of the roar of the motor, when Dean can feel them both standing on the edge of this precipice. He wonders sometimes if either one of them will have the nerve to take that final step, or if something will have to push them both off the cliff, lungs gasping for air and hearts beating out of their chests.
He gets his answer late one night about halfway through summer vacation.
Castiel is sleeping over once again, and they’re both curled up on top of their sleeping bags in the treehouse. There’s a storm brewing to the west, and they have the windows open in the treehouse to take advantage of the rain-cooled breeze wafting in ahead of the storm front. Cas is telling Dean about gaming night at Charlie’s the night before, Dean having canceled at the last minute because he’d stayed late at Rufus’s and was too tired to play.
“So, Charlie picked Inias over Ed as her next knight? I bet that didn’t sit too well,” Dean chuckles.
Castiel grins. “I had to listen to Ed complain about it until Inias tasked me to help him place his archers. I’d probably still be listening to him if Inias hadn’t saved me.”
“Oh man, I am not looking forward to the next meeting then,” Dean complains, punching his pillow to make it fluffy before laying back down on his back. They lie there in companionable silence for several minutes, Dean staring up at what stars are left to see through the skylight before the storm clouds take over. He’s about to reach over and turn off the lamp so they can go to sleep when Castiel speaks up.
“Inias says I’m good at strategy, says I can see things other people might miss,” Castiel says.
His voice is tentative, so much so that Dean turns his head to look at him. Castiel is staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Oh yeah?” Dean prods, and he sees Cas swallow before he replies.
“Inias asked me out.”
The bottom falls out of Dean’s stomach. His skin goes cold and clammy, and as he turns his head to stare back up at the ceiling, it’s all he can do to keep the bile from rising up his throat. “What?” he husks back, hoping like hell he heard wrong.
“Inias asked me on a date,” Castiel continues. “It was…odd. He’s been very friendly for a while now, but I assumed that’s just the way he is.”
“What did you say?” Dean forces the words out of his throat, hoping his friend can’t hear the anguish in his voice. He should have fucking known this was going to happen. Cas would like someone like himself, someone smart and creative and talented, like Inias. Not a loser like Dean.
The air is quiet between them, tense. Dean’s not sure if it’s just him feeling it, or if it’s mutual. It’s probably just him. Like all of this has all just been him, one-sided and pathetic. He sees out of the corner of his eye when Castiel turns his head to look at him, staring at the side of his face.
“I told him I needed to think about it,” Castiel replies.
Dean scoffs. “What’s there to think about?” He knows his voice sounds bitter, but he can’t help it. “The guy’s cool, right? He likes the same kind of stuff as you, he’s smart and paints and is all suave and shit,” he spits out. “He thinks you're good at strategy. It’s a no-brainer.”
Castiel turns, looking back up at the ceiling before replying. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s too suave and, I don’t know, experienced for me. I’ve never dated anyone before. Hell, I’ve never even kissed anyone except-”
Castiel cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence, but it hangs there. They both know what the exception to that sentence is, and it rockets the tension in the air to an almost unbearable degree.
“Can…” Castiel starts, and Dean waits a few seconds to see if he’ll continue, but he doesn’t.
“Can what?” Dean finally presses.
Castiel sighs next to him. “Would you be willing to practice with me? Like we did before?”
Dean turns his head quickly to stare at his friend’s profile, as Castiel pointedly keeps his eyes focused on the skylight above them. “What?” Dean asks, unable to believe his ears.
Castiel lets loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to be kissing someone as experienced as Inias when all I’ve ever done is one awkward kiss in junior high.”
“It wasn’t awkward!” Dean protests.
“Yes, well, even so, I’d like a bit more guidance. And since you seem to have gotten plenty of experience, I thought maybe you could help,” Castiel says, biting his lip.
Dean shuts his eyes closed tightly, not believing his luck, both good and bad. Good because kissing Castiel is something he’s been fantasizing about for months, among other scenarios. But so fucking bad because all Cas is wanting is to use him to prep for some other asshole, and how depressing is that?
“You don’t have to, it was a stupid idea, just forget-”
“Okay.”
Dean turns his head to find Castiel staring back at him, eyes wide. “Okay, what?” Castiel whispers.
“Okay, I’ll help you,” Dean croaks.
And they stare at each other, and Dean feels so much déjà vu. This is just like last time, but so completely different that it’s not even in the same galaxy. This time, this time, Dean wants this so much he feels like every nerve ending is about to burst from anticipation. This time, he’s going to savor every second, every taste of Castiel that he can wring free from the moment, since this time is probably going to be his last.
Dean scoots closer to his friend, biting back a sigh as he feels the warmth from the length of Castiel’s body against him. Castiel watches him, eyes searching Dean’s face for something, but Dean is too flustered to even consider what that might be. All he can think about, all that every molecule of his body is singing right now is yesyesyes as he leans in. He pauses just before he reaches Castiel’s lips, stares into his eyes, wanting to take a mental snapshot of this moment, but before he can continue further and reach his destination, Castiel leans in and closes the distance between them.
The first touch of lips is hesitant, so very much like their first kiss. But this time, this time, Dean knows what to do. He knows what he wants, even if he only has to pretend it’s for Castiel’s benefit. He presses his lips against his friend’s mouth, pulling back a fraction of an inch to get a glimpse at Castiel, eyes shut and lashes fanned against the skin beneath. Dean leans back in, mouth more firm this time, insistent. He keeps his lips closed, just enjoying the feel of Castiel’s mouth against his own and wanting to take his time.
When he feels Castiel’s tongue against the seam of his lips, Dean can't help the moan that escapes his throat. He opens himself up, sucking along the tip of Castiel’s tongue to welcome him in, and he hears Castiel grunt in surprise, feels his friend grab his shoulder to pull him closer. They slide next to each other, the thin cotton fabric of their t-shirts and shorts pressed between them, and this time is so very different from that last time, because this time Dean knows how fevered it will feel when he leans over Castiel, running a hand through his hair and stroking the side of his face, though the difference of stubble instead of soft skin is a pleasant surprise. This time, he knows how amazing it will feel to map out the entirety of Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, tasting and claiming it as his own, but what he doesn’t expect is how fucking hot it is when Castiel growls, pushing him onto his back so that he can cover Dean with his own body, licking deep into Dean’s mouth.
It’s so much better than the memory of before, that first kiss in junior high when Dean was too nervous and too weirded out that he wasn’t weirded out kissing a guy that he couldn’t enjoy the moment for what it was. And it’s so much better than all of his fantasies, because this is Cas, Castiel, in the flesh, pressed hot against Dean as if he’s just as eager and needing this as Dean is.
Castiel leans over Dean as he kisses him deeply, reaching a hand up to run fingers through his hair, thumb stroking along Dean’s forehead. The gentleness of it floors Dean even more than the insistence of soft lips against his own, his heart aching when he reminds himself that the caress isn’t really meant for him. He clenches his fist, holding onto the blanket underneath him to keep from grabbing onto Castiel, but when his friend begins kissing along his jaw Dean can’t help but slide his fingers over Castiel’s side, to ghost along his ribs. He ignores that little voice in the back of his mind telling him to stop, that this is too far, and selfishly takes all he can from the moment. His fingers splay across Castiel’s shoulder blade, moving with the flex of lean muscle as Castiel licks a spot at the bolt of Dean’s jaw.
Dean takes a shaky breath, unconsciously shifting his leg to open himself up more to his friend, and when he does, Castiel slides his own leg over Dean’s. The surprise of his friend's erection, hard against Dean's thigh, elicits a gasp of shock from Dean, and Castiel stops sucking along Dean’s neck. He doesn’t raise his head, though, and now that Dean isn’t distracted by all the kissing and sucking, he notices Castiel’s body trembling. “Cas?” he whispers, unsure of what the hard-on against his hip or the trembling body above him mean.
He can feel Castiel taking a deep breath, the exhale of warmth breath against his neck sending goosebumps tingling along his skin. Dean is frozen in place, waiting for Castiel to say something, anything, his body aching to resume the kissing and touching from before, his mind confused over just what the fuck all of this is. A crack of thunder splitting through the weighted silence makes them both jump, and Castiel raises his head to meet Dean’s stare.
They look at each other for several beats until Dean hears himself blurt, “Don’t go out with Inias.”
Castiel narrows his eyes, brows knitting together in confusion. “What?”
“Cas, this is…I don’t want you to go out with him,” Dean whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t stand to look at Castiel while he pretty much confesses his heart, it’s just too much.
“Okay.”
Dean blinks, eyes open and wide as they meet Castiel’s gaze. “What?”
“As long as you tell me why,” Castiel replies.
There is a moment when Dean considers telling Castiel to just forget it, go ahead and go out with the other guy, because that would be so much easier than confessing the truth, but he knows he can’t turn back now. After all of these years, he owes it to his best friend to tell the truth, difficult to say as it may be. “Because you belong with me,” he whispers finally, staring up at the skylight as a flash of lightning brightens the treehouse for a second.
“I know.”
Dean snaps his head to look back at Castiel. “I thought you liked Inias?”
Castiel drops his face into his hands, groaning. “I never said I like Inias.” He raises his head to return Dean’s stare. “The only person I’ve ever liked, the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with, is you.”
Dean stares at Castiel, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly for several moments because he doesn’t know what to say to that. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Castiel rolls over to lie on his back, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, as he stares up at the ceiling. “I just…you never gave any clues that you might be interested in guys. You just kept going out with girl after girl. I figured…I knew what we have is…different. But I thought I was the only one who wanted to take it further.”He pauses before turning his head to stare at Dean, who can’t pull his gaze away from his friend. “But lately, it’s seemed like maybe you were feeling the same as me.” Cas looks at him, eyes wide and searching. “The way you’ve been sitting closer, and touching me more…I wasn’t imagining it, was I?”
Dean notices the wary look in Castiel’s eyes, almost as if he’s still unsure of what’s happening. “No, you weren’t imagining it,” Dean admits. He can feel his face flushing, uncomfortable with admitting what he’s been trying to hide for months. “I dunno when it happened, really. I just kinda realized one day that I wanted more. But I figured you didn’t, so I held back, decided just to be happy with what I could get by just being friends.”
Castiel’s eyes drift to Dean’s lips, and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach begin doing somersaults again. “Can I kiss you again?” Castiel asks.
“God, yes, please,” Dean whispers, pulling Castiel closer when he leans up and over. And this third kiss is even more different than their first two, because this time neither of them holds back from showing how much they want it. Dean can feel a smile playing across Castiel’s mouth as he fits soft lips against his own, and he can’t help but grin, too. It’s obvious to Dean how inexperienced Castiel is, but the awkwardness of teeth clashing and too much saliva only make Castiel that much more adorable to Dean, though he wouldn’t say that out loud. But Castiel is a quick learner, and within minutes of studying Dean’s techniques in action, he’s able to pull a moan from the back of Dean’s throat with just the softest flick of his tongue.
Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist, pulling him tighter as their kisses become sloppier and dirty. Castiel shifts, maneuvering to slide himself between Dean’s legs, and fuck this is about to get all kinds of filthy really fast, but just as Dean’s about to roll his hips up to show Castiel just how much he’s into this, he hears a clatter down below the treehouse.
“Hey, Dean!” Sam bellows up from the bottom of the ladder. “Mom said I can sleep up here with you guys tonight so I can watch the thunderstorm!”
“Again, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean mutters, as Castiel pushes himself off and away clumsily. Dean sits up, grabbing a pillow to cover his hard-on, and he smirks as he watches Castiel bundling up a blanket to hide his own erection. When Castiel notices Dean smirking at him, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, but Dean still spies a quirk of his lip as his cheeks turn pink.
Sam’s dopey head and floppy hair poke up from the hole in the floor. “So you guys are still up?”
Dean chokes, clearing his throat to cover it up. “Uh, yeah, I think we’ll be up for a while.” He looks at Castiel when Sam turns his back and winks, but Castiel seems less than amused at the wordplay.
Sam looks over at Castiel. “It’s really hot in here, Cas. Why’re you all covered up in that blanket?”
Castiel’s eyes widen, looking all the world like a thief caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so Dean comes to his rescue. “Uh, Cas wasn’t feeling too good. I think he might be getting a fever or something. So uh, he was kinda cold.” Castiel shoots Dean a look of gratitude.
“Oh, well you can have my blanket too, Cas, if you’re still cold,” Sam ventures helpfully. Dean and Castiel watch as he unloads his backpack, pulling out a flashlight, book, juicebox, pillow, and blanket.
“No, thanks, Sam, I’ll feel better soon,” Castiel replies, staring at Dean so intently that Dean has to look away for a second. He looks back at Cas with a bashful smile in the next instant, and he hears Charlie in his head calling him a Disney princess.
“Okay, cool. I’m gonna watch out the window as the storm rolls in, if you guys wanna go to sleep, I’ll be quiet,” Sam says, sitting down at the bench underneath the window, completely oblivious to the shy, flirtatious smiles his brother and Castiel keep shooting each other.
“Yeah, sure, Sammy,” Dean answers, keeping his gaze locked on Castiel as he climbs back into his sleeping bag. Castiel follows suit, pulling his a bit closer to Dean, but not so close as to look suspicious to Sam. They each lie on their sides, facing each other. Dean slides a hand up to lie on the floor between them, and Castiel does the same, placing his hand just next to Dean’s, close enough for their pinky fingers to be touching.
They stare at each other, listening as the storm gets closer, Sam’s exultations of awe at the lightning breaking the silence in between thunder claps. Dean watches as Castiel’s eyelids grow heavy with sleep, and feels his own eyes grow heavy as he fails to hold back a yawn.
Just before he falls into slumber, he hears Castiel whisper, “Goodnight, Dean,” and he feels a hand cover his own.
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