DeanCas BB 2012 - Part 1/3
Title: Drop Your Expectations (And Your Pants)
This is part 1 of 3
DCBB Masterpost HERE
This is the story of how Dean fell in love, for the first time, with his brother's boyfriend. (And how Sam didn’t mind giving Dean this one thing he would never ask for.)
It was three firsts for Dean, actually.
Dean had never wanted, nor meant, to take anything away from Sam. He’d always given Sam all he wished for, more than he needed, and insured that Sam was beyond comfortable.
Dean had never wanted to be with a man before - at least not one that wasn’t famous, badass, and kind of slutty - in his life.
And, most importantly, Dean had never believed in love at first sight. Not that he’d admit to that being the case; he’s still in utter denial of the entire situation, even after weeks of having Sam’s blessing.
----------
How it all began
At first, Sam was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make friends. He and Dean knew how little Sam had been able to make in high school, and Dean just didn’t care enough to try. Sam was this geeky kid with a smart-ass brother to everyone, and neither of them fit into normal society despite how much they’d often wanted to.
Then Sam grew, and grew, and he was still a geeky kid, but people seemed to like the longer limbs. Dean had stopped going to school - their parents unfortunately having passed away - long before Sam received his acceptance letter to Stanford. Dean was proud enough for the both of them, though.
And that was enough for Sam to head into another stage of life with Dean trailing close behind, working at a body shop for their father’s friend, Bobby. Luckily, Dean wouldn’t need to spend a cent of the money he saved for Sam - what with the nifty scholarship Sam’s “geekiness” provided him.
---
It goes a lot smoother than it did back when Sam struggled to blend in during high school. He’s constantly praised for his knowledge of-well-everything; he’s picked up a lot of useless facts over the years he’d spent in solitary confinement as a youth.
There is one man, however unlikely, who seems to know just as much about all the topics Sam dips into (when he’s feeling particularly boastful). And that someone quickly becomes Sam’s rival, his target.
Jessica, a friend he’d made within the first week of class, tells Sam he shouldn’t try to out-smart the reserved guy, but befriend him instead. They could be much more productive as a team than as separate entities. (She makes it seem like they’re superheroes or something. It’s kind of flattering.)
Sam mulls the suggestion over while eating supper that night with Dean. If Dean notices Sam’s mind drifting far away from the dinner table, he doesn’t say anything. Dean takes the half-eaten steak from Sam’s plate, and scoops more salad, dropping it onto Sam’s plate. Sam smiles at the gesture, but Dean pretends like he’s done nothing.
---
As Sam is considering walking up to his rival and offering a peace treaty, the blue-eyed man does it first.
“Hello, Sam,” he says in a deep, resounding tone. “I am Castiel.”
“Nice to meet you, Castiel.” Sam puts out a hand. Castiel’s lips curl slightly, and he takes the hold; his palm a welcomed warmth.
Both men are thinking the ‘glad to be your friend’ that’s left unsaid. And things get much easier, better, for Sam after that. He promises to bring Jess out for supper later as a thank-you.
---
Weeks pass and Sam and Castiel are deemed the Einstein Twins by Jess (and the rest of their peers who know their freakishly sponge-like minds). Eventually, Sam discovers Castiel isn’t even a law major, but took the classes Sam was in because he’d developed an interest in the younger man’s intelligence. If that isn’t a compliment, Sam isn’t sure what is.
Sam invites Castiel over to study and to show Dean that he’s capable of making proper friends just by being himself. Dean isn’t very friendly - not usually good at meeting new people - but he’s nice enough to offer them beer, which they take upstairs to Sam’s room so Dean can relax in the living room on his own.
The next times Castiel comes over, Dean doesn’t do much more than nod in his direction and jerk a thumb at the fridge in silent approval of their stealing some of his stash. It’s a bit weird that Dean is already so comfortable with Castiel’s visits but, if anything, Sam is glad for the strange outcome.
When they finish their beers, reminiscing over their two years of friendship already gone by, Castiel is batting his eyes - perhaps because he’s a lightweight, but Sam would have noticed sooner if he was-and he presses closer, his book falling off his lap as he kisses Sam’s cheek.
If Sam’s mouth hadn’t gone dry he would’ve asked ‘what was that for?’, but Castiel takes the silence as rejection and packs his books in his bag, standing to leave. Sam catches his wrist as he’s swinging the bedroom door open, and Sam stands, following Castiel’s lead and pressing a chaste kiss to the smaller man’s cheek.
Just as their friendship was sealed with a soft touch of skin, their shift in relationship is, too.
---
It’s getting closer to graduation, and Sam has been dating Castiel long enough that he feels compelled to re-introduce him to Dean. This time Castiel isn’t Sam’s equally geeky friend, he’s Sam’s best friend and boyfriend. Dean needs to understand the importance of getting along with Castiel.
Sam is tugging nervously at the cuffs of his plaid shirt with Castiel right behind him as he unlocks the front door. Dean is lounging on the living room sofa, and doesn’t even look up when he says ‘Hey Sammy’ followed closely by ‘Cas’.
Castiel pushes Sam forward when it seems like he’s stuck to his spot on the ground. Sam’s too afraid to admit he’s started dating his best friend who’s been coming over and sneaking up to his room for over a year. That just makes it seem as though they’d been keeping it from Dean all along. Sam knows how Dean’s mind works, and it’s not pretty.
Dean looks over at them when Sam is still not moving, not speaking, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. Castiel huffs from behind him and pushes him forward, again, to convince him to spit it out.
“Um,” Sam stammers, looking at Castiel for courage. He mouths I can’t do this and Castiel nods, looking disappointed but understanding.
“Just say it,” Dean snaps, twisting off the cap of his beer. The bottle’s just about at Dean’s mouth when Sam finally finds his voice.
“I wanted you to meet someone,” Sam says, still skirting around the subject.
“I already know Cas,” Dean says, unimpressed, pressing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.
“My boyfriend,” Sam blurts out. Dean sputters, the beer dripping down his chin.
“Boyfriend?!” Dean shouts, wiping the beer away with the back of his hand. “You’re kidding, right? This guy? Since when do you even swing that way?”
Castiel frowns, pushing past Sam to stomp up every single one of their stairs until he reaches Sam’s door, and (logically for him) slams it shut behind him. Dean grunts, and Sam shoots him a patented bitch-face that would make strangers wither and die. Dean puts his hands up in defeat and mutters a ‘sorry’ before taking another gulp of beer.
It’s a clear sign of things to come, but Sam refuses to acknowledge that.
Once upon a time
It’s summer, or close to it at least, and Dean spends most of it riding his bike while watching Sam play with a soccer ball in the grass of their backyard. Their mother is never far away; inside the house behind clear, glass doors fixing her boys some iced tea to cool them off, or turning on the radio loud enough for them to enjoy from outside.
Dean’s barely eight years old, but he enjoys his task of keeping innocent Sam safe-or operation K.I.S.S. as their mother calls it-from the outside world and from pesky bees. However, there’s a kid next door who always manages to interfere with this important duty.
The kid is about Dean’s height with dark, messy hair and eyes that seem like a reflection of the sky. He peeks over the fence one day to greet his neighbours.
“Whatchu doing?” he says, his chin resting on the wooden fence.
“None of your business,” Dean says, riding in a circle around Sam who is staring intently at an ant hill.
“Okay,” the boy disappears back behind the fence.
Dean struggles with keeping his eyes fixed on Sam and not going over there to see where the boy has gone. But it’s not fair. The kid is gone. And Dean-Dean just has to know where he went.
Dean drops his bike next to Sam and shuffles over to the fence, leaning on his toes to get a better view. He can’t see that dark hair or those blue eyes anywhere.
When Dean turns back to look at Sam, Sam is trying to ride Dean’s bike, falling flat on his face when he can’t reach the pedals properly. Their mother rushes out quickly, glancing over at Dean, but too busy trying to calm Sam to actually scold Dean. She carries Sam inside and asks if Dean can help with cleaning up Sam’s knee. He nods, looking serious beyond his years; that’s the least he can do for already failing his mission.
That night Dean is resolute about not letting a single distraction get in between him and Sam’s safety ever again. Their mother may have forgiven his careless behaviour, but he doesn’t want his baby brother to end up crying and bloody every time something (or someone) else catches his eye.
---
The boy returns to the fence the next day, but Dean is busy helping Sam dig a hole in their yard-which Mary strictly said not to. Dean couldn’t refuse when Sam made puppy eyes and his lip trembled.
“Whatchu doing?” The boy asks again, leaning both arms on the fence under his head.
Dean ignores him this time.
“What’s your name?”
Dean digs faster, throwing dirt on Sam’s clean shorts by accident. They won’t be clean for long anyway.
“Is that your brother?”
Dean calls for his mom in an attempt to intimidate the meddlesome boy next door. He hears the boy jump down from his side of the fence and scurry away. That could be used again in the future.
---
It’s another sunny day and Mary is inside doing dishes. Dean is riding his bike again, circling Sam like a hawk to make sure Sam doesn’t eat worms or get attacked by a bumblebee. One of those yellow suckers could probably do some damage to his baby brother.
Dean hears the familiar shuffling of the neighbour kid climbing the fence to get a better look.
“Hey!” the boy calls from his yard.
Dean is not going to let that guy distract him anymore. Sammy’s well-being is way more important.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
Dean stops riding his bike for a second, turns, and glares at the boy. Afterwards, he resumes prowling around his baby brother with the relentless sun beating down on their skin. Mary steps outside with a tray of iced tea, and catches sight of a bob of black hair at the fence.
“Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” the boy replies solemnly. He jumps down and goes back in his home.
Mary frowns at Dean as if she knows he’s the cause for that kid’s premature depression.
“I didn’t do anything, mom.” Dean hops off his bike and grabs the two cups from her. She smiles but she doesn’t seem convinced.
---
The next day, the kid doesn’t show up. And Dean is about to go looking for him until he remembers how scared he was last time he’d let Sam out of his sight. That wasn’t going to happen again under his watch.
Dean doesn’t see the kid for the rest of the summer, and he feels kind of bad about making him disappear altogether like that. A month later, right before the start of the school year, Dean sees the family next door packing boxes into a truck that their father is driving.
This time Dean can let his eyes stray from Sam, but the neighbour doesn’t even look over when Dean waves goodbye. He just climbs into his parents’ car, in the front seat with his mother, keeping a steely gaze on the road ahead, not turning back as Dean shouts out his name to the boy.
Dean! My name’s Dean! And my brother’s name is Sam!
Years pass, and Dean mentions it once or twice to Sam. Sam says he doesn’t remember anything about that summer, so Dean just assumes he was too young (and too interested in becoming a biologist) at the time. Dean doesn’t forget those eyes though, no matter who he meets, even if it was only one summer a long time ago.
No time like the present
Dean feels bad for making Sam’s boyfriend storm off like that, but not bad enough to actually apologize. Instead, and Sam recognizes it distinctly, he tries to treat Castiel like he does Sam - like someone with many intricate feelings, someone very fragile. At least Dean is sort of trying.
Castiel comes over once per week, hiding behind the wall that is Sam’s torso just in case Dean still hasn’t accepted him. Dean mutters a quick ‘hey’ to Castiel when Sam escapes to the washroom upstairs, leaving Castiel standing awkwardly next to the front entrance. Dean rolls his eyes when Castiel stares at him, really stares, as if he might be able to extinguish Dean’s life-force if he concentrates on it hard enough.
When it gets so awkward that Dean wishes Castiel could actually do that, Sam rushes down the stairs and grabs Castiel’s fingers in passing.
“Bye, Dean,” Sam says quickly. “Don’t wait up.”
“Oh, ew,” Dean says, taking a long swig of his beer. Much alcohol is needed to erase the images of whatever Sam intends to do.
Sam rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s before locking the door behind them.
Dean shakes his head, discouraged; he thought Sam had better taste than that-whatever that is. He’s seen Castiel quite a few times now, and he never seems to loosen up. He’s always wearing that beige detective coat, a crooked, thin tie, dark pants that hide his already small frame, and a white dress shirt that seems to have had better days. The thing is, Castiel’s hair is constantly mussed up like he’s actually spent time trying to make it look naturally messy when-surely-he’s spent as little time on it as he has his outfit.
And, sure, it’s not only about the physical in a relationship, but it’s Sam he’s dating-little Sammy who scraped his knee when he was four because Dean was too busy trying to search out the irritating neighbour kid-
Dean spits his beer out across the living room table. Well, fuck.
Dean should have known there was a reason for his immediate annoyance when Sam first announced they were dating. Castiel is that kid. He’s the one who wouldn’t stop staring and asking questions with wild, dark hair and eyes that brought you up to the clouds. And, although Dean had only really looked at Castiel a handful of times, he would never forget those eyes.
Castiel is one person Dean thought he’d never see again. And from the way they parted, Castiel most likely would have preferred never seeing Dean again. Did he even remember Dean or was this just some supremely freaky coincidence? Castiel couldn’t have remembered and decided to get back at Dean by dating his baby brother, could he? That’s lower than low.
At least now Dean has various, valid reasons for disliking Castiel (and secretly hoping their relationship collapses in the near future). Sammy deserves better than a weird dude with no fashion sense and poor people skills. He should be with a hot, blonde chick with brains and sex appeal dripping out of her pores, someone who compliments Sam, not someone who mirrors him.
---
Since Sam isn’t one for confrontation and wants Castiel to be the happiest when he’s around him, he always drags Castiel up to his bedroom. That way Castiel can feel comfortable, and Dean won’t have a chance to make off-handed comments about attire or their sexual relations (or lack thereof since they’ve only kissed so far).
Oftentimes the nerdy couple, as Dean secretly calls them, stay up in Sam’s room until Dean needs to prepare for bed. On those occasions, Dean knocks and says ‘goodnight geeks’, but usually doesn’t get any reply until much later or the following morning. But, once in a while, Dean waits to see if Sam will shout something through the door, pressing his ear on the wood for a better listen.
Usually there is only silence or murmuring, but-to Dean’s great misfortune because of how active his imagination is-sometimes he hears moaning and panting. The kind of sounds you never want to hear your baby brother making. And then a second voice chimes in, louder and deeper, and Dean knows it has to be Castiel-which is definitely less revolting, but not any more comfortable. Dean’s mind offers a myriad of options for him to choose from in regards to what Sam could be doing for his boyfriend to sound like he’s barely hanging on to his sanity.
Dean doesn’t get much sleep on those nights.
---
Castiel decides to surprise Sam by dropping in unplanned. Once he knocks and Dean is the one to answer the door, he starts losing bits and pieces of his previous joy. Dean narrows his eyes, but reluctantly lets the blue eyed (devil) man inside.
“Sam won’t be back for a while,” Dean offers, plopping down on the couch to resume the extreme sport of channel surfing.
“Oh.” Castiel looks down, deciding whether he should stay and go up to Sam’s room to wait or leave and come back another time.
For someone who was so aggressive and outgoing as a child, he’s ridiculously timid and unsociable now. If it wasn’t for Castiel’s eyes and hair being the same, Dean would wonder if his memory wasn’t lying to him. He’d never found out that kid’s name, so there’s still a possibility that Castiel is not that same kid.
Dean sighs and turns to Castiel to say, “You can wait here if you want, dude. I’m not going to attack you.”
Castiel looks up at Dean, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He’s like Mona Lisa, this one. And those eyes - goddamn them - sparkling with shades of blue. There’s no denying that Castiel was the boy from behind the fence.
“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel crosses the room and sits in an armchair next to the sofa.
Dean glances at Castiel, wondering when they’d become close enough to actually ‘hang out’ together. The TV rumbles with a rowdy audience chanting ‘Jerry, Jerry’ and Dean considers staying put until he reads the subtitle.
I’m sleeping with my brother’s boyfriend and I don’t care!
No fuckin’ way is Dean watching this with mister prissy, deep moan man next to him-who also happens to be his brother’s boyfriend.
Dean switches the channel, and Castiel makes a weird, gargling noise. Is that a protest from the sir with an I.Q. of 140? That’s unexpected.
“Did you wanna watch that?” Dean says, still switching channels.
“No.” Castiel fidgets in his seat, leaning back so far it looks like the armchair is swallowing him whole.
“Even if you like Jerry Springer, I’m not watching that crap,” Dean replies, keeping his gaze on the blur of mindless shows. High school drop-out or not, Jerry Springer is below him.
Castiel grumbles, his eyes now fixed on Dean. “Then why did you pretend to offer?”
“It was a question, not an offer,” Dean quips. This is his living room in his home that he paid for with his money. Castiel should be glad Dean didn’t tell him to go wait upstairs for Sam like a good little nerd.
“You are like a child, were you aware of that?” Castiel scowls at Dean, gripping the arms of the chair tightly. How could Sam tolerate being under a roof with a man like this for so long?
Dean scoffs, his eyes darting over to Castiel who is starting to get red in the face. Well, if Castiel’s going to be a little bitch, then let’s see how much more it takes before he storms out or upstairs. “Dude, this is my house. You’re a guest, but not my guest. And your host isn’t here right now, dear.”
Castiel sits up abruptly, burning a hole through Dean’s skull with the death-glare he has pinned on him. “I don’t think Sam will appreciate the inhospitable way you’re treating me, Dean.”
“Sam’s got nothing to do with you trying to be all princess-like, and trying to make me the dumb chauffeur,” Dean answers, struggling to keep his tone at a steady level.
“How have I inconvenienced you, oh mighty king of the Winchester castle?” Castiel spits. His eyes would be shooting machetes-forget daggers-if they could.
Dean looks over then, and Castiel smiles a shit-eating grin. “Your presence alone is bad enough without you being in my personal space with your Martian eyes and lame excuse for a hairdo.” Castiel’s grin shifts back into a deadly scowl. Dean smiles, returning his attention to the television.
“Really? I’ve been so bothersome these past weeks by merely staying in Sam’s room and being polite? And wasn’t it you that said I could stay here? You never specified which areas of your home were forbidden to visitors. I’ll make a note of that for next time, Dean.” Castiel sits back, crossing his arms.
“Where do you get off being all uppity in someone else’s house? Just ‘cause you’re dating Sam doesn’t mean you can be a shit to me and he’ll allow it. Bros before-well, before boyfriends. And you know what, Cas? Just ‘cause you’ve managed to slip into our lives again after who knows how long, and Sam doesn’t remember you, doesn’t mean I forgot who you are.” Dean shuts the TV and stands to go to the kitchen for a snack. Castiel is ruining his lounging mood.
Castiel stands and follows Dean into the kitchen, his arms still crossed. “What are you talking about? I’ve never met either of you before. I would remember someone as unwelcoming as you. And Sam and I would have been dating much sooner if that were the case.”
“Gross.” Dean rummages through his cupboards and finds a bowl of cereal.
Froot Loops are good at any age, that’s just common sense. He takes out a bowl and starts filling it when he notices the silence. One look at Castiel tells Dean a few things; Castiel likes cereal, Castiel likes Froot Loops, more precisely, and Dean can use this to his advantage. The probing about that summer will have to wait. “Did you want some?”
Castiel’s tongue darts out quickly, but his eyes are piercing and angry when he meets Dean’s gaze.
Castiel doesn’t want to fall for this. He needs to wait for Sam to return; they’re supposed to dine together. “Is that just a question now or an actual offer?”
“If you’re going to be bitchy about it never-”
“I want some,” Castiel cuts in.
Dean tips his head, watching Castiel intently. “Aren’t you forgetting something?"
“Please?” Castiel says, pulling one of the kitchen chairs out.
“Since you asked so nicely.” Dean continues pouring the rings into his bowl. He’s completely and utterly aware that there’s only enough in the box for one portion; he was saving it for a day when he would be too lazy to drive around in search of pie.
The last colourful piece falls into his bowl and he shakes the box, feigning sadness. “Sorry, Cas, guess there’s not enough for two.”
Castiel rips the box out of Dean’s grasp and peers inside, looking unnecessarily horrified. “You knew.”
“Why would I do that?” Dean replies, bringing his bowl with him to the counter to fill it with milk. You can’t be too careful with Mr. bitchy, snippy, trench coat guy almost turning purple now.
“Because you’re a horrible person,” Castiel says matter-of-factly, then, “and nothing like Sam Winchester.”
That hurts, Dean has to admit. But well, that only makes the next part of his plan that much more appealing. “S’that right?”
We’ll see who’s a horrible person.
Dean grabs a seat across from Castiel, slowly scooping up a mouthful and purposely chewing it with indecent humming sounds and closed eyes. Castiel looks about ready to implode, but doesn’t tear his eyes away. Power to him - the masochist.
Castiel’s fists ball up on the table, and Dean purposely spills some milk so he has to wipe it with his fingers and suck those instead. Castiel opens his mouth to complain or whine - or maybe play a pre-recorded self-destruct message, who knows - but keys in the doorway distract him.
“Sam!” Castiel leaps from his seat, flipping Dean’s bowl onto his lap accidentally on purpose as he goes to greet his boyfriend.
Dean curses under his breath, but thankfully he didn’t have much cereal or milk left for it to be that big of a deal. Dean scoffs. He pushed Castiel’s buttons hard enough for him to retaliate in such a pre-school way; it makes him giddy for all the wrong reasons. It’s the little things in life you have to be grateful for, really.
“Hey Cas,” Sam says when he has to catch an armful of grown man with little warning.
The wind is knocked out of Sam when legs come up and wrap around him, Castiel kissing him like they haven’t seen each other in years. Sam can’t really complain about this welcome home ambush, what with the amount of grinding and whimpers Castiel is offering him.
“Missed you,” Castiel says, breathless.
Dean drops his bowl and spoon in the sink with a clang, not bothering to rat out Castiel like he could (because he’s better than that twerp), and just waves at Sam instead on his way upstairs.
Sam looks at Castiel, and Castiel shrugs a shoulder in response, unwinding himself from around his boyfriend. “Maybe he’s tired and wants to sleep early?”
“It’s only six, Cas,” Sam answers, huffing out a laugh.
Castiel bats his eyes, and Sam chuckles ruffling his hair. Dean sees all that from the top of the stairs and very nearly gags. How in the hell could Sam believe that fake angel act when Castiel is so obviously a demon with a crooked halo over his head? He’s either blinded by lust (which-yuck) or he’s not as smart as Dean thought he was.
---
Dean goes off on a tangent, that he does with no one else but Sam, about how awful Castiel is. Sam listens, silently, his arms crossed, but more amused than anything else.
“What do you see in that guy? Honestly, even if he is sorta good looking, he’s a tool. He’s rude, stubborn, smart, but in an annoying let-me-shove-it-in-your face kind of way, and he seems clingy. I saw how he practically strangled you when you got back the other day. And even if I forget all that, he’s a freakin’ dude! What happened to your obsession with blond chicks? That was the only thing we seemed to have in common, and now we don’t even have that anymore. Are you even my baby brother? Where’s geeky, predictable Sammy?”
Sam can’t help but shake his head and laugh it off; Dean is overreacting. It’s almost like he’s jealous of the attention Castiel is getting. And, rather than attempting to convince Dean in a lawyer-like fashion, which would require a lot of time anyhow since Castiel is such a great person, Sam just shrugs and goes into the kitchen for a snack.
Dean shouts across their home to Sam: “See! You can’t even think of any good things about him!”
---
Castiel isn’t much better than Dean, surprisingly.
Castiel’s head is leaning against Sam’s shoulder, his fingers toying with Sam’s longer ones when he asks him the same thing. “How can you support spending so much time with your impatient, rude, vulgar brother?”
It almost doesn’t sound like the Castiel Sam knows. It’s amusing. Castiel is always striving to take the high road, and keeping his cool no matter who pushes his buttons. But it seems Dean found a way to get past his unshakable patience. Castiel’s grip tightens around Sam’s fingers to get him to answer, but Sam just kisses Castiel’s temple.
No point in giving in to their childish gossip about each other. Sam loves them both, and they’ll have to find a way to reach some sort of understanding. As unlikely as that seems for the moment, Sam hopes it will be possible one day.
---
There’s the little boy again, but Sam is inside this time. Their mother is throwing him up in the air, playing with him to his heart’s content. That means Dean is off the hook when it comes to his supervising duties.
Dean lets his eyes drift over to the boy silently watching him at the fence. His eyes are surreal, unnatural. And Dean’s always wanted a closer look but would never allow himself to be pulled from Sam’s side. But now-now-he can enjoy it. There is investigation and questioning to be done. If his neighbour is an alien from another planet, he needs to find out before anyone else.
Dean lets his bike fall on a patch of grass and walks slowly up to the fence. This is the closest he’s ever been to the neighbour, to those sparkling blue crystals. They’re almost too nice to look at.
The boy smiles and blinks slowly, with the sole purpose of drawing Dean closer and making him drop away his apprehension. Dean is thinking too hard. Castiel is making his mind run laps around everything. Why does he already know his name is Castiel? The boy hasn’t said a word. That in itself doesn’t make any sense.
“Hi, Dean.” Castiel beams, resting his arms on the fence below his chin. “Won’t you be my friend?”
“Okay,” Dean answers before he can even think about it.
This isn’t how it all went. This isn’t what happened between them, so what is all this?
Dean climbs up to the fence, peering at Castiel who is still happily barring his teeth. Castiel leans in, eyes wide and curious, pressing his pink lips to the corner of Dean’s mouth.
“Okay,” Castiel replies as well, moving away and bouncing off to his home. He turns before stepping inside and says, “See you tomorrow, Dean.”
Dean’s still up on the fence, confused and damp in the spot where Castiel’s lips touched skin, when his mother carries Sam out with him on her hip.
“Can you watch him for a while, Dean?” She asks softly, pointing to lemons and a pitcher of water on the counter she needs to tend to.
“Okay, mom,” Dean says, jumping down from the fence quickly. He picks up his bike and sits on it, looking over at Sam’s too-long hair, and his wide grin. This makes sense, this is normal. Castiel doesn’t belong in the picture.
Years have passed with Castiel in and out of Dean’s life, still smiling at him like he means the world, still stealing glances. And whenever Sam isn’t around, he holds Dean’s hand, pulls him into a dark corner and kisses him deeply. Dean doesn’t understand how at thirteen years old he already feels like he’s married, so he avoids thinking about it or asking.
And when Dean drops out of high school, Castiel is still by his side, petting his hair, consoling him, whispering into his ear when he can’t find peace of mind. Something isn’t right, something doesn’t fit. And then Castiel wraps the blanket around them and mutters ‘I love you’ as the lights go out, and Dean jerks upright in bed.
Dean looks around his bedroom; he can hear Sam snoring through the wall, but their home is otherwise empty. It was just a dream, nothing else, nothing more. He laughs softly before lying back down in bed for the rest of his sleep.
Figures he would have a dream like this about someone he can’t stand.
---
Something needs to be done if Sam ever wants to breathe easy when (if ever) Dean and Castiel have to be in the same place at the same time. Hopefully, they can find enough of their humanity not to rip each other’s throats out in public (that also includes the metaphorical way). That’s all Sam could ever wish for.
One day, when they are astonishingly in each other’s proximity, due to Sam of course, all they do is glare, and tsk at each other when they think Sam is at a safe distance. Maybe they could be civil after all. When Sam returns and Dean is rushing upstairs to his room, Castiel leans in and murmurs that Dean gives him paroxysmal attacks.
Sam laughs for so long Dean suspects it’s the end of the world and rushes back downstairs. Castiel grins, but doesn’t look at the older Winchester when he demands to partake of this amazing and, most likely, brainy joke.
It flows so smoothly between them that Sam wonders if he really needs to bother with his plan after all. Well, maybe as a precaution he should still try it out.
---
Sam spends the next few weeks staying longer at the library with Jess than he needs to. Dean and Castiel have to learn to get along, and if the only way for them to do that is by being forced together, then that’s what Sam will do.
Sam doesn’t want to have to sneak Castiel up to his room all the time, and he doesn’t want Castiel to feel like he has to tread carefully around Dean either. It should be comfortable; Sam intends to keep Castiel in his life for a long time - romantically linked or not.
The first time Sam comes back late, Castiel is grinning and Dean is storming up to his room and slamming the door. Sam spends an awful evening trying to coax Dean out of his room with burgers and fries, finally having to resort to apple pie to get him out.
The next time, Dean is the one grinning, and Castiel rushes into Sam’s arms for a desperate hug, as though he’s just been through WWII. Once Dean grumbles, Castiel pulls away and gives Sam a quick but messy kiss-including lip smacking sounds-and rushes out of the Winchester household smirking.
Somehow, Sam has a feeling things worsen once he gets back home because he always seems to arrive at the climax of their childish spats.
All of the following occasions don’t go much better than that, and Sam is fed up of playing the mediator to their quarrels. It’s almost like they’re fighting for Sam’s attention…No that couldn’t be right, they aren’t kids-
“Assbutt!” Castiel shouts as Sam is (once again) just arriving from the library.
-Okay, maybe they are.
Mission Make Dean and Castiel Get Along
Eventually, Sam can’t see them on separate days anymore because of schoolwork. If he intends to graduate this century, he has to see them (brace yourself) in the same place, at the same time. Just thinking about it is giving Sam a rash.
Small steps, Sam decides.
This leads them to supper together at a local restaurant, nothing fancy, but not a fast food chain either. They’re settled in with Castiel’s fingers laced with Sam’s underneath the table and Dean making a point of not having eye contact with Castiel. Everything seems to set them off lately.
Their food arrives-burger, steak, salad-and peace is still hanging on by a thread. Then Dean takes one of his huge, jaw-breaking bites into his burger and hums loudly (and a bit obnoxiously), and Castiel drops his fork on his plate with a clatter of metal on glass. He dabs the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not looking at Dean, but not bothering to look at Sam either.
“I’m done,” Castiel says firmly, moving away when Sam tries to shift closer and grab Castiel’s hand.
“What do you mean? You only ate one bite,” Sam asks, brow furrowing.
Dean smirks, crunching on fries and looking far too pleased. “Maybe he’s on a diet.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Castiel says flatly, turning the words into a warning for both Winchesters to stop bothering him right this fucking instance.
“I thought you were starving. Isn’t that what you said-”
“How can I eat with an unabashed beast at our table, Sam?” Castiel interjects.
Sam’s eyes widen, and he looks away when Castiel’s face hardens to stone. Dean is still smiling, the prick, humming louder just to further infuriate Castiel. Castiel slaps a bill down on the table and announces ‘I will be outside’ without allowing Sam time to react.
---
Sam can’t remember the last time he’s been on a ride with Dean, and he doesn’t think Castiel has ever been on one-considering how his eyes glitter like diamonds when Sam hands him a map of the park. Dean’s first concern is to buy cotton candy, which Sam approves of, and Castiel seems to enjoy the sticky mess after careful deliberation, too.
They’re waiting in line with Dean in front of them-laughing at the screaming girls on the roller coaster-and when Dean turns to nudge Sam, he notices Sam’s fingers are laced with Castiel’s. Dean makes a weird grunting, rumbling sound and his smile fades instantly. Disgust is what it turns into, Sam is ashamed to admit, but it’s the same expression Castiel has whenever Dean eats like a monster.
Castiel smirks, leaning up to kiss Sam on the cheek and pet his hair softly. Dean pretends to gag and turns away, crossing his arms, much like Castiel had in the restaurant. Castiel presses another soft kiss to Sam’s cheek, and Dean reacts with another gagging sound, so Castiel does it again, provoking Dean’s same infantile reaction. Each time it’s the same; Castiel kisses Sam, Dean gags. Again. And again. It goes on until someone in line asks if Dean is actually sick, and Sam is glared at by parents who don’t approve of homosexual PDAs.
Can these two little boys not cooperate for Sam’s sake?
---
When all else fails-which it has-alcohol is surely the source to rely on for relationships that are in dire need of help. Dean likes drinking, and Castiel likes drinking (and dancing, oddly) so a club is the best of both worlds. And as an added bonus, Dean could hook up with a girl and be happy for the rest of the week (or longer if Dean grows the fuck up).
Sam is just beginning to enjoy the loose, extra-tactile Castiel rutting against him when he sees Jess from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t even known she’d be here or he would have introduced her to Dean and Castiel when they first arrived.
Then she’s covering her mouth, pushing through the club, and rushing towards the bathrooms in the back with no one chasing after her. Some friends she has. Sam tells Castiel that he has to go check on his friend, and Castiel just nods, continuing to sway along with the music. Dean can just ask Castiel if he wants to know where Sam has escaped to.
Dean is leaning his back against the bar, a good foot or two away from Castiel who is still surrounded by sweaty, pulsing bodies. Dean’s never been apt at dancing, never liked it either (most likely because of his lack of skill), but when young men and women start crowding around an oblivious Castiel, Dean has no choice but to intervene and act as a bodyguard in Sam’s place. If Castiel weren’t Sam’s boyfriend though, Dean would definitely let the wolves have him.
Castiel mumbles or hums something, and Dean is not keen on leaning in to listen to his brother’s boyfriend’s drunken ramblings, so he quickly nods in acknowledgment and keeps Castiel steady with a hand on his shoulder.
Not listening proves to be the wrong idea.
Dean is on the receiving end of the new-and-improved touchy Castiel, clinging to his waist, his arms, his shoulders, and getting remarkably closer by the second. Girls that would have, otherwise, offered Dean their number slowly creep away when they see this.
Cockblocked by his brother’s douchebag boyfriend, fantastic.
Dean tries to gently pry the fingers away, and, when that doesn’t work, he tilts Castiel’s head up so their gazes meet and he glares hard enough to induce blindness. Castiel just needs to recognize that Dean isn’t that lumberjack Sam and then he’ll stop, right?
Castiel’s eyes have to - obviously - be closed. His fingers start to edge under Dean’s shirt, but Dean squirms away, pulling the hands out almost to the point of inflicting pain (ahem). Castiel lurches, holding his stomach, and it doesn’t look like he’s faking it. Not a good sign.
Dean squeezes through the piles of humid, writhing bodies, and practically drags Castiel by his wrist. If Castiel’s going to throw up, he’s not going to do it on the dance-floor where he can accidentally barf on someone’s shoe and end up having to pay them afterward. Not that Dean cares, but Sam would probably never let Dean hear the end of it if he let it happen.
They make it to the bathroom and Castiel pushes Dean aside and lunges for the bathroom stall. Castiel manages to shut the door securely in spite of his current state. It’s quiet in the men’s room until there’s an odd splashing sound that Dean assumes is the contents of Castiel’s stomach. It stops, and then there’s just silence again. Dean leans against the stall, listening hard for sound and still not picking up anything.
“You okay in there?” Dean asks, turning to hear the response better. No answer. “Do you need help?” Still nothing.
Dean bangs on the door, repeating his question, and suddenly (finally) Castiel appears. His eyes aren’t open enough to see, and he trips over his pants barely pulled all the way up his hips, catching himself on the door.
Dean is thankful for Castiel having tucked his junk away at least, preventing Dean from further scarring. Just have to appreciate the little things.
Castiel takes a shaky step forward and trips over the cuff of his pant leg, falling against Dean-who was trying to keep him from doing just that-and they both tumble to the ground in a pile of awkward limbs and pure agony.
Dean winces as he rubs the back of his head, Castiel leans forward at the same time, and their lips touch. It’s brief, chaste, but it goes on long enough that Dean is already feeling stomach curling, lung-puncturing guilt about it. Castiel rolls off of Dean and promptly falls asleep.
On the bright side, only one of them would have to remember this.
But why does it have to be Dean?
-- Part 2 this way
This is part 1 of 3
DCBB Masterpost HERE
This is the story of how Dean fell in love, for the first time, with his brother's boyfriend. (And how Sam didn’t mind giving Dean this one thing he would never ask for.)
It was three firsts for Dean, actually.
Dean had never wanted, nor meant, to take anything away from Sam. He’d always given Sam all he wished for, more than he needed, and insured that Sam was beyond comfortable.
Dean had never wanted to be with a man before - at least not one that wasn’t famous, badass, and kind of slutty - in his life.
And, most importantly, Dean had never believed in love at first sight. Not that he’d admit to that being the case; he’s still in utter denial of the entire situation, even after weeks of having Sam’s blessing.
----------
How it all began
At first, Sam was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make friends. He and Dean knew how little Sam had been able to make in high school, and Dean just didn’t care enough to try. Sam was this geeky kid with a smart-ass brother to everyone, and neither of them fit into normal society despite how much they’d often wanted to.
Then Sam grew, and grew, and he was still a geeky kid, but people seemed to like the longer limbs. Dean had stopped going to school - their parents unfortunately having passed away - long before Sam received his acceptance letter to Stanford. Dean was proud enough for the both of them, though.
And that was enough for Sam to head into another stage of life with Dean trailing close behind, working at a body shop for their father’s friend, Bobby. Luckily, Dean wouldn’t need to spend a cent of the money he saved for Sam - what with the nifty scholarship Sam’s “geekiness” provided him.
---
It goes a lot smoother than it did back when Sam struggled to blend in during high school. He’s constantly praised for his knowledge of-well-everything; he’s picked up a lot of useless facts over the years he’d spent in solitary confinement as a youth.
There is one man, however unlikely, who seems to know just as much about all the topics Sam dips into (when he’s feeling particularly boastful). And that someone quickly becomes Sam’s rival, his target.
Jessica, a friend he’d made within the first week of class, tells Sam he shouldn’t try to out-smart the reserved guy, but befriend him instead. They could be much more productive as a team than as separate entities. (She makes it seem like they’re superheroes or something. It’s kind of flattering.)
Sam mulls the suggestion over while eating supper that night with Dean. If Dean notices Sam’s mind drifting far away from the dinner table, he doesn’t say anything. Dean takes the half-eaten steak from Sam’s plate, and scoops more salad, dropping it onto Sam’s plate. Sam smiles at the gesture, but Dean pretends like he’s done nothing.
---
As Sam is considering walking up to his rival and offering a peace treaty, the blue-eyed man does it first.
“Hello, Sam,” he says in a deep, resounding tone. “I am Castiel.”
“Nice to meet you, Castiel.” Sam puts out a hand. Castiel’s lips curl slightly, and he takes the hold; his palm a welcomed warmth.
Both men are thinking the ‘glad to be your friend’ that’s left unsaid. And things get much easier, better, for Sam after that. He promises to bring Jess out for supper later as a thank-you.
---
Weeks pass and Sam and Castiel are deemed the Einstein Twins by Jess (and the rest of their peers who know their freakishly sponge-like minds). Eventually, Sam discovers Castiel isn’t even a law major, but took the classes Sam was in because he’d developed an interest in the younger man’s intelligence. If that isn’t a compliment, Sam isn’t sure what is.
Sam invites Castiel over to study and to show Dean that he’s capable of making proper friends just by being himself. Dean isn’t very friendly - not usually good at meeting new people - but he’s nice enough to offer them beer, which they take upstairs to Sam’s room so Dean can relax in the living room on his own.
The next times Castiel comes over, Dean doesn’t do much more than nod in his direction and jerk a thumb at the fridge in silent approval of their stealing some of his stash. It’s a bit weird that Dean is already so comfortable with Castiel’s visits but, if anything, Sam is glad for the strange outcome.
When they finish their beers, reminiscing over their two years of friendship already gone by, Castiel is batting his eyes - perhaps because he’s a lightweight, but Sam would have noticed sooner if he was-and he presses closer, his book falling off his lap as he kisses Sam’s cheek.
If Sam’s mouth hadn’t gone dry he would’ve asked ‘what was that for?’, but Castiel takes the silence as rejection and packs his books in his bag, standing to leave. Sam catches his wrist as he’s swinging the bedroom door open, and Sam stands, following Castiel’s lead and pressing a chaste kiss to the smaller man’s cheek.
Just as their friendship was sealed with a soft touch of skin, their shift in relationship is, too.
---
It’s getting closer to graduation, and Sam has been dating Castiel long enough that he feels compelled to re-introduce him to Dean. This time Castiel isn’t Sam’s equally geeky friend, he’s Sam’s best friend and boyfriend. Dean needs to understand the importance of getting along with Castiel.
Sam is tugging nervously at the cuffs of his plaid shirt with Castiel right behind him as he unlocks the front door. Dean is lounging on the living room sofa, and doesn’t even look up when he says ‘Hey Sammy’ followed closely by ‘Cas’.
Castiel pushes Sam forward when it seems like he’s stuck to his spot on the ground. Sam’s too afraid to admit he’s started dating his best friend who’s been coming over and sneaking up to his room for over a year. That just makes it seem as though they’d been keeping it from Dean all along. Sam knows how Dean’s mind works, and it’s not pretty.
Dean looks over at them when Sam is still not moving, not speaking, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. Castiel huffs from behind him and pushes him forward, again, to convince him to spit it out.
“Um,” Sam stammers, looking at Castiel for courage. He mouths I can’t do this and Castiel nods, looking disappointed but understanding.
“Just say it,” Dean snaps, twisting off the cap of his beer. The bottle’s just about at Dean’s mouth when Sam finally finds his voice.
“I wanted you to meet someone,” Sam says, still skirting around the subject.
“I already know Cas,” Dean says, unimpressed, pressing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.
“My boyfriend,” Sam blurts out. Dean sputters, the beer dripping down his chin.
“Boyfriend?!” Dean shouts, wiping the beer away with the back of his hand. “You’re kidding, right? This guy? Since when do you even swing that way?”
Castiel frowns, pushing past Sam to stomp up every single one of their stairs until he reaches Sam’s door, and (logically for him) slams it shut behind him. Dean grunts, and Sam shoots him a patented bitch-face that would make strangers wither and die. Dean puts his hands up in defeat and mutters a ‘sorry’ before taking another gulp of beer.
It’s a clear sign of things to come, but Sam refuses to acknowledge that.
Once upon a time
It’s summer, or close to it at least, and Dean spends most of it riding his bike while watching Sam play with a soccer ball in the grass of their backyard. Their mother is never far away; inside the house behind clear, glass doors fixing her boys some iced tea to cool them off, or turning on the radio loud enough for them to enjoy from outside.
Dean’s barely eight years old, but he enjoys his task of keeping innocent Sam safe-or operation K.I.S.S. as their mother calls it-from the outside world and from pesky bees. However, there’s a kid next door who always manages to interfere with this important duty.
The kid is about Dean’s height with dark, messy hair and eyes that seem like a reflection of the sky. He peeks over the fence one day to greet his neighbours.
“Whatchu doing?” he says, his chin resting on the wooden fence.
“None of your business,” Dean says, riding in a circle around Sam who is staring intently at an ant hill.
“Okay,” the boy disappears back behind the fence.
Dean struggles with keeping his eyes fixed on Sam and not going over there to see where the boy has gone. But it’s not fair. The kid is gone. And Dean-Dean just has to know where he went.
Dean drops his bike next to Sam and shuffles over to the fence, leaning on his toes to get a better view. He can’t see that dark hair or those blue eyes anywhere.
When Dean turns back to look at Sam, Sam is trying to ride Dean’s bike, falling flat on his face when he can’t reach the pedals properly. Their mother rushes out quickly, glancing over at Dean, but too busy trying to calm Sam to actually scold Dean. She carries Sam inside and asks if Dean can help with cleaning up Sam’s knee. He nods, looking serious beyond his years; that’s the least he can do for already failing his mission.
That night Dean is resolute about not letting a single distraction get in between him and Sam’s safety ever again. Their mother may have forgiven his careless behaviour, but he doesn’t want his baby brother to end up crying and bloody every time something (or someone) else catches his eye.
---
The boy returns to the fence the next day, but Dean is busy helping Sam dig a hole in their yard-which Mary strictly said not to. Dean couldn’t refuse when Sam made puppy eyes and his lip trembled.
“Whatchu doing?” The boy asks again, leaning both arms on the fence under his head.
Dean ignores him this time.
“What’s your name?”
Dean digs faster, throwing dirt on Sam’s clean shorts by accident. They won’t be clean for long anyway.
“Is that your brother?”
Dean calls for his mom in an attempt to intimidate the meddlesome boy next door. He hears the boy jump down from his side of the fence and scurry away. That could be used again in the future.
---
It’s another sunny day and Mary is inside doing dishes. Dean is riding his bike again, circling Sam like a hawk to make sure Sam doesn’t eat worms or get attacked by a bumblebee. One of those yellow suckers could probably do some damage to his baby brother.
Dean hears the familiar shuffling of the neighbour kid climbing the fence to get a better look.
“Hey!” the boy calls from his yard.
Dean is not going to let that guy distract him anymore. Sammy’s well-being is way more important.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
Dean stops riding his bike for a second, turns, and glares at the boy. Afterwards, he resumes prowling around his baby brother with the relentless sun beating down on their skin. Mary steps outside with a tray of iced tea, and catches sight of a bob of black hair at the fence.
“Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” the boy replies solemnly. He jumps down and goes back in his home.
Mary frowns at Dean as if she knows he’s the cause for that kid’s premature depression.
“I didn’t do anything, mom.” Dean hops off his bike and grabs the two cups from her. She smiles but she doesn’t seem convinced.
---
The next day, the kid doesn’t show up. And Dean is about to go looking for him until he remembers how scared he was last time he’d let Sam out of his sight. That wasn’t going to happen again under his watch.
Dean doesn’t see the kid for the rest of the summer, and he feels kind of bad about making him disappear altogether like that. A month later, right before the start of the school year, Dean sees the family next door packing boxes into a truck that their father is driving.
This time Dean can let his eyes stray from Sam, but the neighbour doesn’t even look over when Dean waves goodbye. He just climbs into his parents’ car, in the front seat with his mother, keeping a steely gaze on the road ahead, not turning back as Dean shouts out his name to the boy.
Dean! My name’s Dean! And my brother’s name is Sam!
Years pass, and Dean mentions it once or twice to Sam. Sam says he doesn’t remember anything about that summer, so Dean just assumes he was too young (and too interested in becoming a biologist) at the time. Dean doesn’t forget those eyes though, no matter who he meets, even if it was only one summer a long time ago.
No time like the present
Dean feels bad for making Sam’s boyfriend storm off like that, but not bad enough to actually apologize. Instead, and Sam recognizes it distinctly, he tries to treat Castiel like he does Sam - like someone with many intricate feelings, someone very fragile. At least Dean is sort of trying.
Castiel comes over once per week, hiding behind the wall that is Sam’s torso just in case Dean still hasn’t accepted him. Dean mutters a quick ‘hey’ to Castiel when Sam escapes to the washroom upstairs, leaving Castiel standing awkwardly next to the front entrance. Dean rolls his eyes when Castiel stares at him, really stares, as if he might be able to extinguish Dean’s life-force if he concentrates on it hard enough.
When it gets so awkward that Dean wishes Castiel could actually do that, Sam rushes down the stairs and grabs Castiel’s fingers in passing.
“Bye, Dean,” Sam says quickly. “Don’t wait up.”
“Oh, ew,” Dean says, taking a long swig of his beer. Much alcohol is needed to erase the images of whatever Sam intends to do.
Sam rolls his eyes, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s before locking the door behind them.
Dean shakes his head, discouraged; he thought Sam had better taste than that-whatever that is. He’s seen Castiel quite a few times now, and he never seems to loosen up. He’s always wearing that beige detective coat, a crooked, thin tie, dark pants that hide his already small frame, and a white dress shirt that seems to have had better days. The thing is, Castiel’s hair is constantly mussed up like he’s actually spent time trying to make it look naturally messy when-surely-he’s spent as little time on it as he has his outfit.
And, sure, it’s not only about the physical in a relationship, but it’s Sam he’s dating-little Sammy who scraped his knee when he was four because Dean was too busy trying to search out the irritating neighbour kid-
Dean spits his beer out across the living room table. Well, fuck.
Dean should have known there was a reason for his immediate annoyance when Sam first announced they were dating. Castiel is that kid. He’s the one who wouldn’t stop staring and asking questions with wild, dark hair and eyes that brought you up to the clouds. And, although Dean had only really looked at Castiel a handful of times, he would never forget those eyes.
Castiel is one person Dean thought he’d never see again. And from the way they parted, Castiel most likely would have preferred never seeing Dean again. Did he even remember Dean or was this just some supremely freaky coincidence? Castiel couldn’t have remembered and decided to get back at Dean by dating his baby brother, could he? That’s lower than low.
At least now Dean has various, valid reasons for disliking Castiel (and secretly hoping their relationship collapses in the near future). Sammy deserves better than a weird dude with no fashion sense and poor people skills. He should be with a hot, blonde chick with brains and sex appeal dripping out of her pores, someone who compliments Sam, not someone who mirrors him.
---
Since Sam isn’t one for confrontation and wants Castiel to be the happiest when he’s around him, he always drags Castiel up to his bedroom. That way Castiel can feel comfortable, and Dean won’t have a chance to make off-handed comments about attire or their sexual relations (or lack thereof since they’ve only kissed so far).
Oftentimes the nerdy couple, as Dean secretly calls them, stay up in Sam’s room until Dean needs to prepare for bed. On those occasions, Dean knocks and says ‘goodnight geeks’, but usually doesn’t get any reply until much later or the following morning. But, once in a while, Dean waits to see if Sam will shout something through the door, pressing his ear on the wood for a better listen.
Usually there is only silence or murmuring, but-to Dean’s great misfortune because of how active his imagination is-sometimes he hears moaning and panting. The kind of sounds you never want to hear your baby brother making. And then a second voice chimes in, louder and deeper, and Dean knows it has to be Castiel-which is definitely less revolting, but not any more comfortable. Dean’s mind offers a myriad of options for him to choose from in regards to what Sam could be doing for his boyfriend to sound like he’s barely hanging on to his sanity.
Dean doesn’t get much sleep on those nights.
---
Castiel decides to surprise Sam by dropping in unplanned. Once he knocks and Dean is the one to answer the door, he starts losing bits and pieces of his previous joy. Dean narrows his eyes, but reluctantly lets the blue eyed (devil) man inside.
“Sam won’t be back for a while,” Dean offers, plopping down on the couch to resume the extreme sport of channel surfing.
“Oh.” Castiel looks down, deciding whether he should stay and go up to Sam’s room to wait or leave and come back another time.
For someone who was so aggressive and outgoing as a child, he’s ridiculously timid and unsociable now. If it wasn’t for Castiel’s eyes and hair being the same, Dean would wonder if his memory wasn’t lying to him. He’d never found out that kid’s name, so there’s still a possibility that Castiel is not that same kid.
Dean sighs and turns to Castiel to say, “You can wait here if you want, dude. I’m not going to attack you.”
Castiel looks up at Dean, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He’s like Mona Lisa, this one. And those eyes - goddamn them - sparkling with shades of blue. There’s no denying that Castiel was the boy from behind the fence.
“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel crosses the room and sits in an armchair next to the sofa.
Dean glances at Castiel, wondering when they’d become close enough to actually ‘hang out’ together. The TV rumbles with a rowdy audience chanting ‘Jerry, Jerry’ and Dean considers staying put until he reads the subtitle.
I’m sleeping with my brother’s boyfriend and I don’t care!
No fuckin’ way is Dean watching this with mister prissy, deep moan man next to him-who also happens to be his brother’s boyfriend.
Dean switches the channel, and Castiel makes a weird, gargling noise. Is that a protest from the sir with an I.Q. of 140? That’s unexpected.
“Did you wanna watch that?” Dean says, still switching channels.
“No.” Castiel fidgets in his seat, leaning back so far it looks like the armchair is swallowing him whole.
“Even if you like Jerry Springer, I’m not watching that crap,” Dean replies, keeping his gaze on the blur of mindless shows. High school drop-out or not, Jerry Springer is below him.
Castiel grumbles, his eyes now fixed on Dean. “Then why did you pretend to offer?”
“It was a question, not an offer,” Dean quips. This is his living room in his home that he paid for with his money. Castiel should be glad Dean didn’t tell him to go wait upstairs for Sam like a good little nerd.
“You are like a child, were you aware of that?” Castiel scowls at Dean, gripping the arms of the chair tightly. How could Sam tolerate being under a roof with a man like this for so long?
Dean scoffs, his eyes darting over to Castiel who is starting to get red in the face. Well, if Castiel’s going to be a little bitch, then let’s see how much more it takes before he storms out or upstairs. “Dude, this is my house. You’re a guest, but not my guest. And your host isn’t here right now, dear.”
Castiel sits up abruptly, burning a hole through Dean’s skull with the death-glare he has pinned on him. “I don’t think Sam will appreciate the inhospitable way you’re treating me, Dean.”
“Sam’s got nothing to do with you trying to be all princess-like, and trying to make me the dumb chauffeur,” Dean answers, struggling to keep his tone at a steady level.
“How have I inconvenienced you, oh mighty king of the Winchester castle?” Castiel spits. His eyes would be shooting machetes-forget daggers-if they could.
Dean looks over then, and Castiel smiles a shit-eating grin. “Your presence alone is bad enough without you being in my personal space with your Martian eyes and lame excuse for a hairdo.” Castiel’s grin shifts back into a deadly scowl. Dean smiles, returning his attention to the television.
“Really? I’ve been so bothersome these past weeks by merely staying in Sam’s room and being polite? And wasn’t it you that said I could stay here? You never specified which areas of your home were forbidden to visitors. I’ll make a note of that for next time, Dean.” Castiel sits back, crossing his arms.
“Where do you get off being all uppity in someone else’s house? Just ‘cause you’re dating Sam doesn’t mean you can be a shit to me and he’ll allow it. Bros before-well, before boyfriends. And you know what, Cas? Just ‘cause you’ve managed to slip into our lives again after who knows how long, and Sam doesn’t remember you, doesn’t mean I forgot who you are.” Dean shuts the TV and stands to go to the kitchen for a snack. Castiel is ruining his lounging mood.
Castiel stands and follows Dean into the kitchen, his arms still crossed. “What are you talking about? I’ve never met either of you before. I would remember someone as unwelcoming as you. And Sam and I would have been dating much sooner if that were the case.”
“Gross.” Dean rummages through his cupboards and finds a bowl of cereal.
Froot Loops are good at any age, that’s just common sense. He takes out a bowl and starts filling it when he notices the silence. One look at Castiel tells Dean a few things; Castiel likes cereal, Castiel likes Froot Loops, more precisely, and Dean can use this to his advantage. The probing about that summer will have to wait. “Did you want some?”
Castiel’s tongue darts out quickly, but his eyes are piercing and angry when he meets Dean’s gaze.
Castiel doesn’t want to fall for this. He needs to wait for Sam to return; they’re supposed to dine together. “Is that just a question now or an actual offer?”
“If you’re going to be bitchy about it never-”
“I want some,” Castiel cuts in.
Dean tips his head, watching Castiel intently. “Aren’t you forgetting something?"
“Please?” Castiel says, pulling one of the kitchen chairs out.
“Since you asked so nicely.” Dean continues pouring the rings into his bowl. He’s completely and utterly aware that there’s only enough in the box for one portion; he was saving it for a day when he would be too lazy to drive around in search of pie.
The last colourful piece falls into his bowl and he shakes the box, feigning sadness. “Sorry, Cas, guess there’s not enough for two.”
Castiel rips the box out of Dean’s grasp and peers inside, looking unnecessarily horrified. “You knew.”
“Why would I do that?” Dean replies, bringing his bowl with him to the counter to fill it with milk. You can’t be too careful with Mr. bitchy, snippy, trench coat guy almost turning purple now.
“Because you’re a horrible person,” Castiel says matter-of-factly, then, “and nothing like Sam Winchester.”
That hurts, Dean has to admit. But well, that only makes the next part of his plan that much more appealing. “S’that right?”
We’ll see who’s a horrible person.
Dean grabs a seat across from Castiel, slowly scooping up a mouthful and purposely chewing it with indecent humming sounds and closed eyes. Castiel looks about ready to implode, but doesn’t tear his eyes away. Power to him - the masochist.
Castiel’s fists ball up on the table, and Dean purposely spills some milk so he has to wipe it with his fingers and suck those instead. Castiel opens his mouth to complain or whine - or maybe play a pre-recorded self-destruct message, who knows - but keys in the doorway distract him.
“Sam!” Castiel leaps from his seat, flipping Dean’s bowl onto his lap accidentally on purpose as he goes to greet his boyfriend.
Dean curses under his breath, but thankfully he didn’t have much cereal or milk left for it to be that big of a deal. Dean scoffs. He pushed Castiel’s buttons hard enough for him to retaliate in such a pre-school way; it makes him giddy for all the wrong reasons. It’s the little things in life you have to be grateful for, really.
“Hey Cas,” Sam says when he has to catch an armful of grown man with little warning.
The wind is knocked out of Sam when legs come up and wrap around him, Castiel kissing him like they haven’t seen each other in years. Sam can’t really complain about this welcome home ambush, what with the amount of grinding and whimpers Castiel is offering him.
“Missed you,” Castiel says, breathless.
Dean drops his bowl and spoon in the sink with a clang, not bothering to rat out Castiel like he could (because he’s better than that twerp), and just waves at Sam instead on his way upstairs.
Sam looks at Castiel, and Castiel shrugs a shoulder in response, unwinding himself from around his boyfriend. “Maybe he’s tired and wants to sleep early?”
“It’s only six, Cas,” Sam answers, huffing out a laugh.
Castiel bats his eyes, and Sam chuckles ruffling his hair. Dean sees all that from the top of the stairs and very nearly gags. How in the hell could Sam believe that fake angel act when Castiel is so obviously a demon with a crooked halo over his head? He’s either blinded by lust (which-yuck) or he’s not as smart as Dean thought he was.
---
Dean goes off on a tangent, that he does with no one else but Sam, about how awful Castiel is. Sam listens, silently, his arms crossed, but more amused than anything else.
“What do you see in that guy? Honestly, even if he is sorta good looking, he’s a tool. He’s rude, stubborn, smart, but in an annoying let-me-shove-it-in-your face kind of way, and he seems clingy. I saw how he practically strangled you when you got back the other day. And even if I forget all that, he’s a freakin’ dude! What happened to your obsession with blond chicks? That was the only thing we seemed to have in common, and now we don’t even have that anymore. Are you even my baby brother? Where’s geeky, predictable Sammy?”
Sam can’t help but shake his head and laugh it off; Dean is overreacting. It’s almost like he’s jealous of the attention Castiel is getting. And, rather than attempting to convince Dean in a lawyer-like fashion, which would require a lot of time anyhow since Castiel is such a great person, Sam just shrugs and goes into the kitchen for a snack.
Dean shouts across their home to Sam: “See! You can’t even think of any good things about him!”
---
Castiel isn’t much better than Dean, surprisingly.
Castiel’s head is leaning against Sam’s shoulder, his fingers toying with Sam’s longer ones when he asks him the same thing. “How can you support spending so much time with your impatient, rude, vulgar brother?”
It almost doesn’t sound like the Castiel Sam knows. It’s amusing. Castiel is always striving to take the high road, and keeping his cool no matter who pushes his buttons. But it seems Dean found a way to get past his unshakable patience. Castiel’s grip tightens around Sam’s fingers to get him to answer, but Sam just kisses Castiel’s temple.
No point in giving in to their childish gossip about each other. Sam loves them both, and they’ll have to find a way to reach some sort of understanding. As unlikely as that seems for the moment, Sam hopes it will be possible one day.
---
There’s the little boy again, but Sam is inside this time. Their mother is throwing him up in the air, playing with him to his heart’s content. That means Dean is off the hook when it comes to his supervising duties.
Dean lets his eyes drift over to the boy silently watching him at the fence. His eyes are surreal, unnatural. And Dean’s always wanted a closer look but would never allow himself to be pulled from Sam’s side. But now-now-he can enjoy it. There is investigation and questioning to be done. If his neighbour is an alien from another planet, he needs to find out before anyone else.
Dean lets his bike fall on a patch of grass and walks slowly up to the fence. This is the closest he’s ever been to the neighbour, to those sparkling blue crystals. They’re almost too nice to look at.
The boy smiles and blinks slowly, with the sole purpose of drawing Dean closer and making him drop away his apprehension. Dean is thinking too hard. Castiel is making his mind run laps around everything. Why does he already know his name is Castiel? The boy hasn’t said a word. That in itself doesn’t make any sense.
“Hi, Dean.” Castiel beams, resting his arms on the fence below his chin. “Won’t you be my friend?”
“Okay,” Dean answers before he can even think about it.
This isn’t how it all went. This isn’t what happened between them, so what is all this?
Dean climbs up to the fence, peering at Castiel who is still happily barring his teeth. Castiel leans in, eyes wide and curious, pressing his pink lips to the corner of Dean’s mouth.
“Okay,” Castiel replies as well, moving away and bouncing off to his home. He turns before stepping inside and says, “See you tomorrow, Dean.”
Dean’s still up on the fence, confused and damp in the spot where Castiel’s lips touched skin, when his mother carries Sam out with him on her hip.
“Can you watch him for a while, Dean?” She asks softly, pointing to lemons and a pitcher of water on the counter she needs to tend to.
“Okay, mom,” Dean says, jumping down from the fence quickly. He picks up his bike and sits on it, looking over at Sam’s too-long hair, and his wide grin. This makes sense, this is normal. Castiel doesn’t belong in the picture.
Years have passed with Castiel in and out of Dean’s life, still smiling at him like he means the world, still stealing glances. And whenever Sam isn’t around, he holds Dean’s hand, pulls him into a dark corner and kisses him deeply. Dean doesn’t understand how at thirteen years old he already feels like he’s married, so he avoids thinking about it or asking.
And when Dean drops out of high school, Castiel is still by his side, petting his hair, consoling him, whispering into his ear when he can’t find peace of mind. Something isn’t right, something doesn’t fit. And then Castiel wraps the blanket around them and mutters ‘I love you’ as the lights go out, and Dean jerks upright in bed.
Dean looks around his bedroom; he can hear Sam snoring through the wall, but their home is otherwise empty. It was just a dream, nothing else, nothing more. He laughs softly before lying back down in bed for the rest of his sleep.
Figures he would have a dream like this about someone he can’t stand.
---
Something needs to be done if Sam ever wants to breathe easy when (if ever) Dean and Castiel have to be in the same place at the same time. Hopefully, they can find enough of their humanity not to rip each other’s throats out in public (that also includes the metaphorical way). That’s all Sam could ever wish for.
One day, when they are astonishingly in each other’s proximity, due to Sam of course, all they do is glare, and tsk at each other when they think Sam is at a safe distance. Maybe they could be civil after all. When Sam returns and Dean is rushing upstairs to his room, Castiel leans in and murmurs that Dean gives him paroxysmal attacks.
Sam laughs for so long Dean suspects it’s the end of the world and rushes back downstairs. Castiel grins, but doesn’t look at the older Winchester when he demands to partake of this amazing and, most likely, brainy joke.
It flows so smoothly between them that Sam wonders if he really needs to bother with his plan after all. Well, maybe as a precaution he should still try it out.
---
Sam spends the next few weeks staying longer at the library with Jess than he needs to. Dean and Castiel have to learn to get along, and if the only way for them to do that is by being forced together, then that’s what Sam will do.
Sam doesn’t want to have to sneak Castiel up to his room all the time, and he doesn’t want Castiel to feel like he has to tread carefully around Dean either. It should be comfortable; Sam intends to keep Castiel in his life for a long time - romantically linked or not.
The first time Sam comes back late, Castiel is grinning and Dean is storming up to his room and slamming the door. Sam spends an awful evening trying to coax Dean out of his room with burgers and fries, finally having to resort to apple pie to get him out.
The next time, Dean is the one grinning, and Castiel rushes into Sam’s arms for a desperate hug, as though he’s just been through WWII. Once Dean grumbles, Castiel pulls away and gives Sam a quick but messy kiss-including lip smacking sounds-and rushes out of the Winchester household smirking.
Somehow, Sam has a feeling things worsen once he gets back home because he always seems to arrive at the climax of their childish spats.
All of the following occasions don’t go much better than that, and Sam is fed up of playing the mediator to their quarrels. It’s almost like they’re fighting for Sam’s attention…No that couldn’t be right, they aren’t kids-
“Assbutt!” Castiel shouts as Sam is (once again) just arriving from the library.
-Okay, maybe they are.
Mission Make Dean and Castiel Get Along
Eventually, Sam can’t see them on separate days anymore because of schoolwork. If he intends to graduate this century, he has to see them (brace yourself) in the same place, at the same time. Just thinking about it is giving Sam a rash.
Small steps, Sam decides.
This leads them to supper together at a local restaurant, nothing fancy, but not a fast food chain either. They’re settled in with Castiel’s fingers laced with Sam’s underneath the table and Dean making a point of not having eye contact with Castiel. Everything seems to set them off lately.
Their food arrives-burger, steak, salad-and peace is still hanging on by a thread. Then Dean takes one of his huge, jaw-breaking bites into his burger and hums loudly (and a bit obnoxiously), and Castiel drops his fork on his plate with a clatter of metal on glass. He dabs the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not looking at Dean, but not bothering to look at Sam either.
“I’m done,” Castiel says firmly, moving away when Sam tries to shift closer and grab Castiel’s hand.
“What do you mean? You only ate one bite,” Sam asks, brow furrowing.
Dean smirks, crunching on fries and looking far too pleased. “Maybe he’s on a diet.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Castiel says flatly, turning the words into a warning for both Winchesters to stop bothering him right this fucking instance.
“I thought you were starving. Isn’t that what you said-”
“How can I eat with an unabashed beast at our table, Sam?” Castiel interjects.
Sam’s eyes widen, and he looks away when Castiel’s face hardens to stone. Dean is still smiling, the prick, humming louder just to further infuriate Castiel. Castiel slaps a bill down on the table and announces ‘I will be outside’ without allowing Sam time to react.
---
Sam can’t remember the last time he’s been on a ride with Dean, and he doesn’t think Castiel has ever been on one-considering how his eyes glitter like diamonds when Sam hands him a map of the park. Dean’s first concern is to buy cotton candy, which Sam approves of, and Castiel seems to enjoy the sticky mess after careful deliberation, too.
They’re waiting in line with Dean in front of them-laughing at the screaming girls on the roller coaster-and when Dean turns to nudge Sam, he notices Sam’s fingers are laced with Castiel’s. Dean makes a weird grunting, rumbling sound and his smile fades instantly. Disgust is what it turns into, Sam is ashamed to admit, but it’s the same expression Castiel has whenever Dean eats like a monster.
Castiel smirks, leaning up to kiss Sam on the cheek and pet his hair softly. Dean pretends to gag and turns away, crossing his arms, much like Castiel had in the restaurant. Castiel presses another soft kiss to Sam’s cheek, and Dean reacts with another gagging sound, so Castiel does it again, provoking Dean’s same infantile reaction. Each time it’s the same; Castiel kisses Sam, Dean gags. Again. And again. It goes on until someone in line asks if Dean is actually sick, and Sam is glared at by parents who don’t approve of homosexual PDAs.
Can these two little boys not cooperate for Sam’s sake?
---
When all else fails-which it has-alcohol is surely the source to rely on for relationships that are in dire need of help. Dean likes drinking, and Castiel likes drinking (and dancing, oddly) so a club is the best of both worlds. And as an added bonus, Dean could hook up with a girl and be happy for the rest of the week (or longer if Dean grows the fuck up).
Sam is just beginning to enjoy the loose, extra-tactile Castiel rutting against him when he sees Jess from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t even known she’d be here or he would have introduced her to Dean and Castiel when they first arrived.
Then she’s covering her mouth, pushing through the club, and rushing towards the bathrooms in the back with no one chasing after her. Some friends she has. Sam tells Castiel that he has to go check on his friend, and Castiel just nods, continuing to sway along with the music. Dean can just ask Castiel if he wants to know where Sam has escaped to.
Dean is leaning his back against the bar, a good foot or two away from Castiel who is still surrounded by sweaty, pulsing bodies. Dean’s never been apt at dancing, never liked it either (most likely because of his lack of skill), but when young men and women start crowding around an oblivious Castiel, Dean has no choice but to intervene and act as a bodyguard in Sam’s place. If Castiel weren’t Sam’s boyfriend though, Dean would definitely let the wolves have him.
Castiel mumbles or hums something, and Dean is not keen on leaning in to listen to his brother’s boyfriend’s drunken ramblings, so he quickly nods in acknowledgment and keeps Castiel steady with a hand on his shoulder.
Not listening proves to be the wrong idea.
Dean is on the receiving end of the new-and-improved touchy Castiel, clinging to his waist, his arms, his shoulders, and getting remarkably closer by the second. Girls that would have, otherwise, offered Dean their number slowly creep away when they see this.
Cockblocked by his brother’s douchebag boyfriend, fantastic.
Dean tries to gently pry the fingers away, and, when that doesn’t work, he tilts Castiel’s head up so their gazes meet and he glares hard enough to induce blindness. Castiel just needs to recognize that Dean isn’t that lumberjack Sam and then he’ll stop, right?
Castiel’s eyes have to - obviously - be closed. His fingers start to edge under Dean’s shirt, but Dean squirms away, pulling the hands out almost to the point of inflicting pain (ahem). Castiel lurches, holding his stomach, and it doesn’t look like he’s faking it. Not a good sign.
Dean squeezes through the piles of humid, writhing bodies, and practically drags Castiel by his wrist. If Castiel’s going to throw up, he’s not going to do it on the dance-floor where he can accidentally barf on someone’s shoe and end up having to pay them afterward. Not that Dean cares, but Sam would probably never let Dean hear the end of it if he let it happen.
They make it to the bathroom and Castiel pushes Dean aside and lunges for the bathroom stall. Castiel manages to shut the door securely in spite of his current state. It’s quiet in the men’s room until there’s an odd splashing sound that Dean assumes is the contents of Castiel’s stomach. It stops, and then there’s just silence again. Dean leans against the stall, listening hard for sound and still not picking up anything.
“You okay in there?” Dean asks, turning to hear the response better. No answer. “Do you need help?” Still nothing.
Dean bangs on the door, repeating his question, and suddenly (finally) Castiel appears. His eyes aren’t open enough to see, and he trips over his pants barely pulled all the way up his hips, catching himself on the door.
Dean is thankful for Castiel having tucked his junk away at least, preventing Dean from further scarring. Just have to appreciate the little things.
Castiel takes a shaky step forward and trips over the cuff of his pant leg, falling against Dean-who was trying to keep him from doing just that-and they both tumble to the ground in a pile of awkward limbs and pure agony.
Dean winces as he rubs the back of his head, Castiel leans forward at the same time, and their lips touch. It’s brief, chaste, but it goes on long enough that Dean is already feeling stomach curling, lung-puncturing guilt about it. Castiel rolls off of Dean and promptly falls asleep.
On the bright side, only one of them would have to remember this.
But why does it have to be Dean?
-- Part 2 this way