[Fic] Sin with a Grin - Chapter 4/18
Title: Sin with a Grin
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Special Thanks to dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
Please see Master Post for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dean stared in silent shock after Agent Harvelle explained their dilemma and hopeful solution. Jesse Turner was an innocent eight year old kid who attended a quiet and elite private school just outside of the Greater Boston Area. It was sheltered, secluded, and even the FBI couldn’t get a line on exactly who everyone was that attended the school. They were the children of dignitaries, celebrities, diplomats and anyone else rich and elite that you could think of.
Jesse Turner, however, was not the son of a diplomat by any stretch. He was the son of one of the wealthiest organized crime leaders on the Eastern Seaboard, the man that was known more commonly as Crowley, King of Hell. The other catch? Jesse’s mother was Lilith Turner, the daughter of the leader of Crowley’s main competition. They were the Capulets and Montagues of Modern America, and Crowley was Romeo to Lilith’s Juliet, without the dramatic death scene at the end. Just the big nasty split that left a poor lost kid in the centre of it all, the only link between two criminal families that were more at war than ever.
“Lilith’s people are convinced that Jesse’s in danger. She’s been receiving threats for weeks now that he may be kidnapped, or worse. Crowley apparently wants the little prodigal out of his rivals’ hands and he’d do anything to get him… So I’ve heard anyway,” Ruby gave an easy shrug. Something about the way she spoke niggled at Dean, and he wasn’t too fond of the come-hither eyes directed at Sam that Dean could see even through the two-way mirror of the interrogation room’s observation booth.
“So in other words, if we keep the boy safe, Lilith will give us every scrap of information we need in order to get to Crowley,” Castiel said; he was leaning right against the glass just to the left of Dean, his body angled in Dean’s direction even though the window separated them. Sammy was sitting on the chair opposite Ruby who, in Dean’s opinion, was sitting far too casual and relaxed to be in an FBI interrogation.
“So you aren’t as dumb as you look,” Ruby said with acrid sweetness. “But, Lilith also thinks Jesse may know more than he’s letting on. He still gets to see daddy after all, even if it’s while he’s heavily guarded and in a public place. Get someone to protect and get close to Jesse, and he may have something to give in return.”
“He’s an eight-year-old child, you’re suggesting we use him? Take advantage of his trust?” Castiel commented, aghast, and Dean couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.
“Hey, I’m just a mouth piece here. What’ya think, Sam? You game?” Ruby lowered her gaze and stared up at Sam through her thickly made-up lashes. Where she got mascara and eyeliner in prison, Dean could only guess at.
“I have someone in mind. But here’s my question for you Ruby. What is it you want in return?” Sam asked.
“Assurance that none of this can bounce back on me, is all. If Lilith’s father found out about her playing both sides with this whole thing, I’ll tell you right now, it wouldn’t be Daddy’s Little Girl getting the blame, that’s for sure,” Ruby replied.
Sam looked at Cas for confirmation; Cas nodded back and Sam returned his gaze to the wide-mouthed brunette across the metal table. “Fine. Our candidate for this case has listened to the details. Once they agree, then the plan is in motion and it won’t come back on you. You have our word.”
“Oh, like the word of the Feebs is worth much… But you know? Whatevs, I’ll take what I can get,” Ruby shrugged, though it was a little comical with her wrists chained to the floor with heavy metal shackles.
Special Agent-in-Charge Ellen Harvelle turned off the speakers and broke down the plan for him properly.
“She had alluded in the first interview - the one that you had the Cliffs Notes for earlier - that we would need someone to go undercover and play the part. This was just for confirmation, and to give you a chance to see it with your own eyes. I have some highly-educated agents at my disposal, but I don’t have any highly-educated agents with B.Eds attached to the ends of their names. The person who works this case has to play the part convincingly, or Crowley will get suspicious,” Ellen had told him earlier. “What do you think Winchester? You up for it?”
Dean still hadn’t been able to answer, and that was fifteen minutes ago, and the cause of Dean’s blank, mute stare.
There was a knock on the door that temporarily broke Dean’s reverie. The teacher looked over and saw Cas hovering in the doorway. He was holding two mugs of steaming coffee awkwardly and a thick official-looking folder in the hand he used to knock with. The absurdity of Cas knocking to get anywhere near Dean was finally what shook the younger man completely free from his trance.
Castiel set down the coffee first, then he put the folder in front of Dean, opening it with an easy flick. The last move the agent took was placing the silver pen Dean had bought him last year for their anniversary gently on the paper.
Dean blinked down at it, “Cas…”
“Dean, don’t ask me if I’m sure this is all right with me, because it isn’t all right with me in any way whatsoever. I tried so hard to keep you out of this aspect of my life, and now I am partly responsible for thrusting you in head first. So no, I’m not all right. However, despite my personal feelings, I know that you are the most qualified, and the best person for this task. I also know that the moment you heard a child was in danger, even though he’s the child of not one, but two dangerous criminals, your mind was already made up. I also know you’ve been feeling like you wanted to do more with your life for a very long time and make a difference in ways beyond teaching and guiding. I have never felt that what you do is any less important than what Sam and I do. I have never felt you needed to prove anything or make a statement or a grand gesture. I do know, however, that you feel this way, even if you have no cause to. So I know you want to sign those papers, and if I tell you not to because I’m afraid you’ll get hurt then you’re just going to resent me for it. So Dean, don’t think about what I want, or what Sam wants, or what your parents want. Think about what you want; you do it so very rarely, Dean, and here is your chance.”
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and looked beseechingly into the blue eyes of the man across from him, “My kids Cas, how can I leave my kids?”
“It’s not forever Dean. The moment this wraps, you’re free to go back,” Castiel answered gently.
It was several long heartbeats before Dean picked up the pen. As he put it to paper, he didn’t falter and he didn’t blink. When he thought that he might actually save someone’s - or several people’s - lives, his palms and underarms didn’t prickle with sweat, and his breath remained steady even as he scrawled his name across the line in smooth black ink. Then he put the pen down very gently, pushed away from the table, and left the room without a second glance or thought.
Castiel sighed as he stood. He picked up his pen, gently clicking it closed. He picked up the folder and pushed in both chairs, and then he just stood there, staring at the polished steel, trying to breathe around the lump in his chest and the acid burn in his stomach.
xx
Things were difficult at home that night. Dean hardly spoke, just worked methodically on lesson plan, after lesson plan, after lesson plan, and unit overview, after unit overview, after unit overview. By the time he was done, his fingers cracked from the stiffness caused by constant typing, and the printer was humming busily. Dean had closed down his programs and his mouse hovered over the shutdown function but still he hadn’t moved from his desk. Instead, Dean spent the last several moments in silence and stared at the picture he used for his desktop background of Sam, Jess, Cas and himself. It was taken at the Winchesters’ Fourth of July Barbecue only a few months ago. Dean, liking the photo so much, put it on his desktop the same day that Mary Winchester had emailed him the pictures.
In the picture, Jessica and Sam looked Hollywood perfect. Jessica was lovely in a white A-line summer dress, and Sam in a white button down and jeans, white teeth flashing from broad happy smiles. Dean’s smile was little more than a slight splitting of his lips, but his eyes were crinkled merrily, and he was wearing a grey t-shirt with an artfully silkscreened flag on it that Cas had bought him as a bit of a gag gift. And somehow, Cas fit right in that picture, dressed in a button down of his own in blue, and just quirking his lips at the camera, with Dean arm slung comfortably around Castiel’s shoulders. Cas only realized after he saw the picture how much he leaned into Dean, and how intimate they looked without even trying. Yes, Castiel liked that picture immensely.
John had informed them that Mary wouldn’t stop showing ‘her kids’ around to anyone that would look. The thought that Mary considered Castiel her son was warming and humbling. The fact that Cas was welcomed into a family as warm and as loving as the Winchesters, especially when compared to his own, left Castiel in unabashed awe.
Now, as Castiel caught of glimpse of the picture on Dean’s desktop, a pang of guilt shot through him, as he realized he was putting not just one son, but two, literally in the line of fire.
“Fuck.” The low bitter curse escaped Castiel’s lips before he could check it, but he wasn’t at all startled when he heard the gentle roll of wheels against the floor and he felt arms on his shoulders turning him seconds after.
“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked. Castiel swore so severely so rarely (in common-place settings anyway; he had the dirtiest mouth you could imagine when in the more intimate setting of the bedroom) that it took only that to jolt Dean out of his pervasive trance-state that he’d been operating in for the better part of the last four hours.
“Your mother is going to hate me,” Castiel answered. Dean was understandably confused, and though at times it seemed as such, Dean did not, in fact, reside in Castiel’s head and had not been privy to the thoughts from earlier.
Letting Sam go had been easier for the Winchesters. Sam had always been more independent from the family and more head-strong than Dean. Though of course John and Mary were worried about their younger son, it wasn’t that big of a shock when he announced he didn’t want to sit and rot behind a desk as a lawyer any longer, and that the FBI were looking for skilled agents at the moment.
Dean? Dean had gone with the flow, as it were. He had always been a little more - if not subordinate - than malleable to his parents’ desires. Dean also adored teaching so he saw no need to step away from his chosen profession for something more exciting. Even if Dean had always felt that there was something more he could be doing, saving lives, helping people. He was content with his chosen lot in life for the most part. It irked him on occasion that Sam and Cas ran off to play hero (mostly because Dean wasn’t capable of being there to protect them) but it wasn’t all-consuming.
Regardless though, when John and Mary found out that Dean was turning in his whiteboard and yard stick for a gun and handcuffs, they might be a little shaken; but Dean wasn’t turning in his whiteboard and yard stick entirely, so maybe they’d be okay. Though Castiel knew he wouldn’t go unscathed upon Dean’s inevitable confession. Cas was the reason Sam was in the FBI, and Cas was, therefore, ultimately the reason Dean was putting on his own standard-issue black suit and tie.
“Did you give away her pecan pie recipe or something? Cause Nan made her swear to not give that out to anyone on pain of death,” Dean joked to cover up how muddled he was at that moment.
Cas shook his head, chuckled lowly and kissed Dean’s nose, because he was too cute sometimes, before answering. “No, you signing your life away to the boys in black. She was already angry enough at me for Sam. I can’t imagine how she’ll react to you doing it, considering how close you two are.”
It was true that Dean was a little closer to their mother than Sam was, but then again, the person Sam was closest to in their family was Dean, not either of their parents. Not that all the Winchesters didn’t love each other beyond reason at times, but Sam seemed to have imprinted on Dean at a fairly young age, and it was what it was.
John had been working a lot when the children were growing up, so he may have loved his boys fiercely, but he wasn’t as close to them as Mary was. It wasn’t until Dean was a teenager that John and he got a little closer, and it only resulted in Sam getting further from John, because Dean belonged to Sam and he resented their father a little for taking his Dean away. It all worked out in the end however, and they found themselves a decent balance with significant others, the sibling, and the parent-child bond. But still to this day, Dean remained closer to Mary and Sam and Dean remained closest to one another.
“Cas, the minute I tell Mom you tried to talk me out of it, she’ll probably make you a cake,” Dean reassured.
“I didn’t try too hard,” Cas said wryly.
“Because you knew it was pointless, because you know me so well. Stop worrying, I’m not even a real FBI guy anyway. I’m just a glorified babysitter who gets to carry a gun. No big deal,” Dean shrugged.
“Just as dangerous,” Castiel said fiercely.
Dean leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to the older man’s lips, “I have faith in you Cas, you’ll protect me.”
And what words of protest could Castiel raise to that? It wasn’t long until Dean found himself sprawled naked on the floor with his partner flush against his body, kissing any remaining thoughts away.
xx
Dean woke up with an odd sensation of one side of his body being almost to the point of sweaty warm, and the other feeling pretty well like he’d hung it out the window while driving through the Rockies in winter. He shivered and hissed as his naked skin brushed against the smooth hardwood of the floor, and thanked the gods of interior design that tile wasn’t as popular as it used to be.
Castiel groaned against Dean’s chest as the younger man shifted, then quieted and snuggled closer. Of course he would be comfortable; the blue eyed man was mostly on top of Dean. Dean grumbled, though he had a smile on his lips as he flipped Cas unceremoniously over until his back hit the cool gloss on the floors.
Cas yowled and sat bolt upright, panting and looking wildly around. Dean snickered.
Then, giving the agent a gentle push, he said, “Damnit Cas, what’s with you and this floor kink thing? Way too fucking cold.”
“It was the closest flat surface,” Cas replied baldly, though there was an obnoxious little twinkle in his eye as he did.
Dean stretched out his leg with a grimace, “And my knee hurts like a bitch.”
“Well you didn’t have to be on your knees,” Castiel said casually as he fluidly rose to his feet and held out a hand to help Dean up. Dean grabbed it, but Castiel overcompensated a little with the weight difference, slight though it may be, and Dean teetered dangerously close to them crashing right back to the floor with Cas flat on his back this time.
With a gentle laugh at Castiel’s wide-eyed surprise, Dean scrambled forward and managed to correct their balance, pulling Cas back onto steady footing.
“Thought you liked me on my knees,” Dean answered lowly.
“I like you anyway I can have you, Dean Winchester, and if you keep looking at me like that, I may just as well try for a second round, and I am way too old to even think about that without pharmaceutical assistance.”
Dean snorted. “You’re thirty-six, Cas. And believe me, you in no way need any little blue pills.”
Castiel patted Dean’s cheek in an almost condensing ‘you’re sweet’ manner, but Dean wasn’t offended.
“I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad this weekend,” Dean blurted.
Cas turned around. “Okay.”
“Just a forewarning… Ah…they’re coming down for the thing at my school. For whatever reason, Sam told them about it. I think there are nefarious plans afoot, but I didn’t pry,” Dean explained.
Castiel couldn’t help the nervous tension in his voice when he said, “So it’ll be in person when you tell them.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…”
“So I’m at great risk for serious Mary-Winchester-induced bodily harm.”
“Yes.”
Cas smiled tightly. “Great. Good night.”
Dean watched as Castiel robot-walked to the bedroom, and sighed.
End Chapter
Previous | Master Post | Next
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Supernatural and all associated characters belong to Kripke and Co. I make absolutely no claims on any of them.
Special Thanks to dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
Please see Master Post for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dean stared in silent shock after Agent Harvelle explained their dilemma and hopeful solution. Jesse Turner was an innocent eight year old kid who attended a quiet and elite private school just outside of the Greater Boston Area. It was sheltered, secluded, and even the FBI couldn’t get a line on exactly who everyone was that attended the school. They were the children of dignitaries, celebrities, diplomats and anyone else rich and elite that you could think of.
Jesse Turner, however, was not the son of a diplomat by any stretch. He was the son of one of the wealthiest organized crime leaders on the Eastern Seaboard, the man that was known more commonly as Crowley, King of Hell. The other catch? Jesse’s mother was Lilith Turner, the daughter of the leader of Crowley’s main competition. They were the Capulets and Montagues of Modern America, and Crowley was Romeo to Lilith’s Juliet, without the dramatic death scene at the end. Just the big nasty split that left a poor lost kid in the centre of it all, the only link between two criminal families that were more at war than ever.
“Lilith’s people are convinced that Jesse’s in danger. She’s been receiving threats for weeks now that he may be kidnapped, or worse. Crowley apparently wants the little prodigal out of his rivals’ hands and he’d do anything to get him… So I’ve heard anyway,” Ruby gave an easy shrug. Something about the way she spoke niggled at Dean, and he wasn’t too fond of the come-hither eyes directed at Sam that Dean could see even through the two-way mirror of the interrogation room’s observation booth.
“So in other words, if we keep the boy safe, Lilith will give us every scrap of information we need in order to get to Crowley,” Castiel said; he was leaning right against the glass just to the left of Dean, his body angled in Dean’s direction even though the window separated them. Sammy was sitting on the chair opposite Ruby who, in Dean’s opinion, was sitting far too casual and relaxed to be in an FBI interrogation.
“So you aren’t as dumb as you look,” Ruby said with acrid sweetness. “But, Lilith also thinks Jesse may know more than he’s letting on. He still gets to see daddy after all, even if it’s while he’s heavily guarded and in a public place. Get someone to protect and get close to Jesse, and he may have something to give in return.”
“He’s an eight-year-old child, you’re suggesting we use him? Take advantage of his trust?” Castiel commented, aghast, and Dean couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.
“Hey, I’m just a mouth piece here. What’ya think, Sam? You game?” Ruby lowered her gaze and stared up at Sam through her thickly made-up lashes. Where she got mascara and eyeliner in prison, Dean could only guess at.
“I have someone in mind. But here’s my question for you Ruby. What is it you want in return?” Sam asked.
“Assurance that none of this can bounce back on me, is all. If Lilith’s father found out about her playing both sides with this whole thing, I’ll tell you right now, it wouldn’t be Daddy’s Little Girl getting the blame, that’s for sure,” Ruby replied.
Sam looked at Cas for confirmation; Cas nodded back and Sam returned his gaze to the wide-mouthed brunette across the metal table. “Fine. Our candidate for this case has listened to the details. Once they agree, then the plan is in motion and it won’t come back on you. You have our word.”
“Oh, like the word of the Feebs is worth much… But you know? Whatevs, I’ll take what I can get,” Ruby shrugged, though it was a little comical with her wrists chained to the floor with heavy metal shackles.
Special Agent-in-Charge Ellen Harvelle turned off the speakers and broke down the plan for him properly.
“She had alluded in the first interview - the one that you had the Cliffs Notes for earlier - that we would need someone to go undercover and play the part. This was just for confirmation, and to give you a chance to see it with your own eyes. I have some highly-educated agents at my disposal, but I don’t have any highly-educated agents with B.Eds attached to the ends of their names. The person who works this case has to play the part convincingly, or Crowley will get suspicious,” Ellen had told him earlier. “What do you think Winchester? You up for it?”
Dean still hadn’t been able to answer, and that was fifteen minutes ago, and the cause of Dean’s blank, mute stare.
There was a knock on the door that temporarily broke Dean’s reverie. The teacher looked over and saw Cas hovering in the doorway. He was holding two mugs of steaming coffee awkwardly and a thick official-looking folder in the hand he used to knock with. The absurdity of Cas knocking to get anywhere near Dean was finally what shook the younger man completely free from his trance.
Castiel set down the coffee first, then he put the folder in front of Dean, opening it with an easy flick. The last move the agent took was placing the silver pen Dean had bought him last year for their anniversary gently on the paper.
Dean blinked down at it, “Cas…”
“Dean, don’t ask me if I’m sure this is all right with me, because it isn’t all right with me in any way whatsoever. I tried so hard to keep you out of this aspect of my life, and now I am partly responsible for thrusting you in head first. So no, I’m not all right. However, despite my personal feelings, I know that you are the most qualified, and the best person for this task. I also know that the moment you heard a child was in danger, even though he’s the child of not one, but two dangerous criminals, your mind was already made up. I also know you’ve been feeling like you wanted to do more with your life for a very long time and make a difference in ways beyond teaching and guiding. I have never felt that what you do is any less important than what Sam and I do. I have never felt you needed to prove anything or make a statement or a grand gesture. I do know, however, that you feel this way, even if you have no cause to. So I know you want to sign those papers, and if I tell you not to because I’m afraid you’ll get hurt then you’re just going to resent me for it. So Dean, don’t think about what I want, or what Sam wants, or what your parents want. Think about what you want; you do it so very rarely, Dean, and here is your chance.”
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and looked beseechingly into the blue eyes of the man across from him, “My kids Cas, how can I leave my kids?”
“It’s not forever Dean. The moment this wraps, you’re free to go back,” Castiel answered gently.
It was several long heartbeats before Dean picked up the pen. As he put it to paper, he didn’t falter and he didn’t blink. When he thought that he might actually save someone’s - or several people’s - lives, his palms and underarms didn’t prickle with sweat, and his breath remained steady even as he scrawled his name across the line in smooth black ink. Then he put the pen down very gently, pushed away from the table, and left the room without a second glance or thought.
Castiel sighed as he stood. He picked up his pen, gently clicking it closed. He picked up the folder and pushed in both chairs, and then he just stood there, staring at the polished steel, trying to breathe around the lump in his chest and the acid burn in his stomach.
xx
Things were difficult at home that night. Dean hardly spoke, just worked methodically on lesson plan, after lesson plan, after lesson plan, and unit overview, after unit overview, after unit overview. By the time he was done, his fingers cracked from the stiffness caused by constant typing, and the printer was humming busily. Dean had closed down his programs and his mouse hovered over the shutdown function but still he hadn’t moved from his desk. Instead, Dean spent the last several moments in silence and stared at the picture he used for his desktop background of Sam, Jess, Cas and himself. It was taken at the Winchesters’ Fourth of July Barbecue only a few months ago. Dean, liking the photo so much, put it on his desktop the same day that Mary Winchester had emailed him the pictures.
In the picture, Jessica and Sam looked Hollywood perfect. Jessica was lovely in a white A-line summer dress, and Sam in a white button down and jeans, white teeth flashing from broad happy smiles. Dean’s smile was little more than a slight splitting of his lips, but his eyes were crinkled merrily, and he was wearing a grey t-shirt with an artfully silkscreened flag on it that Cas had bought him as a bit of a gag gift. And somehow, Cas fit right in that picture, dressed in a button down of his own in blue, and just quirking his lips at the camera, with Dean arm slung comfortably around Castiel’s shoulders. Cas only realized after he saw the picture how much he leaned into Dean, and how intimate they looked without even trying. Yes, Castiel liked that picture immensely.
John had informed them that Mary wouldn’t stop showing ‘her kids’ around to anyone that would look. The thought that Mary considered Castiel her son was warming and humbling. The fact that Cas was welcomed into a family as warm and as loving as the Winchesters, especially when compared to his own, left Castiel in unabashed awe.
Now, as Castiel caught of glimpse of the picture on Dean’s desktop, a pang of guilt shot through him, as he realized he was putting not just one son, but two, literally in the line of fire.
“Fuck.” The low bitter curse escaped Castiel’s lips before he could check it, but he wasn’t at all startled when he heard the gentle roll of wheels against the floor and he felt arms on his shoulders turning him seconds after.
“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked. Castiel swore so severely so rarely (in common-place settings anyway; he had the dirtiest mouth you could imagine when in the more intimate setting of the bedroom) that it took only that to jolt Dean out of his pervasive trance-state that he’d been operating in for the better part of the last four hours.
“Your mother is going to hate me,” Castiel answered. Dean was understandably confused, and though at times it seemed as such, Dean did not, in fact, reside in Castiel’s head and had not been privy to the thoughts from earlier.
Letting Sam go had been easier for the Winchesters. Sam had always been more independent from the family and more head-strong than Dean. Though of course John and Mary were worried about their younger son, it wasn’t that big of a shock when he announced he didn’t want to sit and rot behind a desk as a lawyer any longer, and that the FBI were looking for skilled agents at the moment.
Dean? Dean had gone with the flow, as it were. He had always been a little more - if not subordinate - than malleable to his parents’ desires. Dean also adored teaching so he saw no need to step away from his chosen profession for something more exciting. Even if Dean had always felt that there was something more he could be doing, saving lives, helping people. He was content with his chosen lot in life for the most part. It irked him on occasion that Sam and Cas ran off to play hero (mostly because Dean wasn’t capable of being there to protect them) but it wasn’t all-consuming.
Regardless though, when John and Mary found out that Dean was turning in his whiteboard and yard stick for a gun and handcuffs, they might be a little shaken; but Dean wasn’t turning in his whiteboard and yard stick entirely, so maybe they’d be okay. Though Castiel knew he wouldn’t go unscathed upon Dean’s inevitable confession. Cas was the reason Sam was in the FBI, and Cas was, therefore, ultimately the reason Dean was putting on his own standard-issue black suit and tie.
“Did you give away her pecan pie recipe or something? Cause Nan made her swear to not give that out to anyone on pain of death,” Dean joked to cover up how muddled he was at that moment.
Cas shook his head, chuckled lowly and kissed Dean’s nose, because he was too cute sometimes, before answering. “No, you signing your life away to the boys in black. She was already angry enough at me for Sam. I can’t imagine how she’ll react to you doing it, considering how close you two are.”
It was true that Dean was a little closer to their mother than Sam was, but then again, the person Sam was closest to in their family was Dean, not either of their parents. Not that all the Winchesters didn’t love each other beyond reason at times, but Sam seemed to have imprinted on Dean at a fairly young age, and it was what it was.
John had been working a lot when the children were growing up, so he may have loved his boys fiercely, but he wasn’t as close to them as Mary was. It wasn’t until Dean was a teenager that John and he got a little closer, and it only resulted in Sam getting further from John, because Dean belonged to Sam and he resented their father a little for taking his Dean away. It all worked out in the end however, and they found themselves a decent balance with significant others, the sibling, and the parent-child bond. But still to this day, Dean remained closer to Mary and Sam and Dean remained closest to one another.
“Cas, the minute I tell Mom you tried to talk me out of it, she’ll probably make you a cake,” Dean reassured.
“I didn’t try too hard,” Cas said wryly.
“Because you knew it was pointless, because you know me so well. Stop worrying, I’m not even a real FBI guy anyway. I’m just a glorified babysitter who gets to carry a gun. No big deal,” Dean shrugged.
“Just as dangerous,” Castiel said fiercely.
Dean leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to the older man’s lips, “I have faith in you Cas, you’ll protect me.”
And what words of protest could Castiel raise to that? It wasn’t long until Dean found himself sprawled naked on the floor with his partner flush against his body, kissing any remaining thoughts away.
xx
Dean woke up with an odd sensation of one side of his body being almost to the point of sweaty warm, and the other feeling pretty well like he’d hung it out the window while driving through the Rockies in winter. He shivered and hissed as his naked skin brushed against the smooth hardwood of the floor, and thanked the gods of interior design that tile wasn’t as popular as it used to be.
Castiel groaned against Dean’s chest as the younger man shifted, then quieted and snuggled closer. Of course he would be comfortable; the blue eyed man was mostly on top of Dean. Dean grumbled, though he had a smile on his lips as he flipped Cas unceremoniously over until his back hit the cool gloss on the floors.
Cas yowled and sat bolt upright, panting and looking wildly around. Dean snickered.
Then, giving the agent a gentle push, he said, “Damnit Cas, what’s with you and this floor kink thing? Way too fucking cold.”
“It was the closest flat surface,” Cas replied baldly, though there was an obnoxious little twinkle in his eye as he did.
Dean stretched out his leg with a grimace, “And my knee hurts like a bitch.”
“Well you didn’t have to be on your knees,” Castiel said casually as he fluidly rose to his feet and held out a hand to help Dean up. Dean grabbed it, but Castiel overcompensated a little with the weight difference, slight though it may be, and Dean teetered dangerously close to them crashing right back to the floor with Cas flat on his back this time.
With a gentle laugh at Castiel’s wide-eyed surprise, Dean scrambled forward and managed to correct their balance, pulling Cas back onto steady footing.
“Thought you liked me on my knees,” Dean answered lowly.
“I like you anyway I can have you, Dean Winchester, and if you keep looking at me like that, I may just as well try for a second round, and I am way too old to even think about that without pharmaceutical assistance.”
Dean snorted. “You’re thirty-six, Cas. And believe me, you in no way need any little blue pills.”
Castiel patted Dean’s cheek in an almost condensing ‘you’re sweet’ manner, but Dean wasn’t offended.
“I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad this weekend,” Dean blurted.
Cas turned around. “Okay.”
“Just a forewarning… Ah…they’re coming down for the thing at my school. For whatever reason, Sam told them about it. I think there are nefarious plans afoot, but I didn’t pry,” Dean explained.
Castiel couldn’t help the nervous tension in his voice when he said, “So it’ll be in person when you tell them.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…”
“So I’m at great risk for serious Mary-Winchester-induced bodily harm.”
“Yes.”
Cas smiled tightly. “Great. Good night.”
Dean watched as Castiel robot-walked to the bedroom, and sighed.
End Chapter
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