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A Longing for Home

Summary:

Running late one morning, Dean Winchester bumps into the last person he expected to see: his childhood friend Castiel. Fifteen years after their fallout, things get complicated as they try to rebuild their friendship. Will Dean who is adapting to being a single father and Castiel who still struggles with his religious upbringing, be able to reconcile so many years later?
There are some things better left in the past and yet, when they get dredged back up neither of them can stay away.

Notes:

It feels very weird to put a story out into the world that you've been working on for the last six months since you-know-what-event. This is the first fic in this fandom and the first I've posted in many years but I'm very, very excited - I hope I do the characters justice :) ( this is my tumblr if you'd like to chat fandom with me)
Uptop I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta spacegirlstuff for encouraging me and giving me valuable advice. Thank you for putting up with my very specific questions!
This story will update every Sunday - the 20 chapters is an estimate and might still change :)
Thank you for reading!

Chapter 1: One.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t exactly his fault he was late.

After all Dean’s time management skills had improved since his twenties. He had found out a long time ago that facing teenagers before his first hit of caffeine was a bad idea. Most mornings he even managed to talk to his colleagues in the staff room or to go through his notes before his first class. So, this particular Tuesday morning, when his coffee machine finally broke after being on its last leg for the past three years, it wasn’t a complete disaster. He would have to stop at the small bakery just around the corner from his school and then just skip the friendly banter and head straight to his classroom. Possibly, he’d still have time to double check his plan before the bell rang.

Parking the impala on the curb he frowned at the sight in the rear-view mirror. There were wrappers and crumbs all over the back seat. His younger self would cringe if they knew how Baby was treated nowadays. With a sigh Dean resolved to clean her on Saturday.

The bakery was busy as usual in the morning, but there were things Dean minded more than waiting with the smell of delicious baked goods wafting from the kitchen.

His phone chimed as he got in line. Care to help a girl out?

Dean rubbed his face with a sigh. While he was decidedly not a morning person and had to force himself out of bed to get to work, his friend Charlie was the complete opposite. And by helping out she most certainly meant answering some obscure question for her comic book series. Sure, Dean typed back.

Within seconds he received a reply: What’s the dress code for Irish squires in the mid 17-hundreds? Dean sighed. In Charlie’s book being a high school history teacher qualified him as a legitimate source no matter how many times he tried to convince her of the opposite. And since he didn’t want her book to be taken apart by comic book nerds, more often than not, he went and read up on the subjects in actual academic literature written by actual historians. More than once, he had thought about getting her a library card.

He was so caught up in wracking his brain, whether he knew even a single thing about Irish squires, he didn’t register someone speaking to him until they said his name rather loudly. Disoriented he looked up only to stare into scarily familiar blue eyes. He blinked.

“Dean Winchester, right?” the person in front of him repeated themself.

Suddenly Dean’s mouth felt very dry. “Cas?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t waver. “What are you doing here?”

“I believe I’m getting breakfast,” the other man deadpanned. He wore black chinos and a dress shirt and a beige trench coat, even though it was 7:30 in the morning. His hair was now slicked back and there were unfamiliar lines on his face, but there was no denying it: it was Castiel Novak in the flesh. Cas who Dean had not seen in about twenty years.

His brain didn’t seem to be able to form sentences, so Castiel continued after a pause, “I’m here for family business.” If he flinched at that it was very subtle. “I will probably be in town for a bit.”

“Right,” Dean replied, struggling for words, “well, I’m still here.”

“I can see that.”

Damn, how had his peaceful morning turned into Blast from the Past? Unsure of what to retort, Dean was relieved when the lady behind the counter turned to Cas and asked him for his order. Black tea with milk and a scone. Not much had changed there at least.

It was overwhelming seeing his best friend from years ago so unexpectedly and before he’d even had his first coffee. He was normally fine at small talk but under these circumstances, every single topic he could think of felt too heavy. Racking his brain, the best thing he could come up with was, “I’m a teacher at the high school down the road.” If Cas was surprised at his line of work, he didn’t show it then either.

“I’m glad.”

It was the nonchalance of it all that caused Dean’s brain to short circuit. He had imagined running into Castiel a million times, had even tried to stalk out his house before that had felt too creepy, and then out of the blue, here he stood in a random bakery after twenty years had passed and didn’t even seem fazed by it.

Dean ordered just a black coffee and started to fiddle with his rings. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour with all the questions he would have liked to ask right on the spot, but unfortunately, he really had to get going if he didn’t want to be late to his first class. For a moment he wondered whether he shouldn’t just walk out of the bakery without looking back on the encounter. He certainly had every right to be angry- the very last thing he needed was to be roped back into the Novaks’ shit. However, even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew even if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to forget about it so easily. Winchesters didn’t walk away until things were done.

“We should get a drink sometime,” he mumbled, trying to calm his nerves. Somehow, he’d foolishly thought he had gotten over his need for closure years ago. There was no point in making chitchat when all Dean wanted was to shake the guy. If Castiel didn’t want to meet him, it might even be better for his sanity.

“Yes, that would be nice,” Cas replied, already pulling out a pen and scribbling down what looked like his number on his napkin. “You should text me.” He handed the napkin to Dean, who found himself looking down at the numbers as if they had a hidden meaning. Well done, Winchester, getting yourself into awful situations just like the good old days. Nothing good could come of this and yet, there was no way in hell he wouldn’t text.

“Yeah,” he replied slowly, “I will.” He absentmindedly got out his wallet, paying no attention to the small photos tucked inside, and paid for his order. Cas’s sudden dumbfounded expression returned him firmly back into the present. He followed the other’s eyes and the thought hit him like a wave: they knew nothing about each other anymore. It nearly made him laugh out loud, it seemed ridiculous, that that was the case after everything that had happened, and yet Cas had no way of knowing…

“That’s my two kids,” he stated regaining the upper hand again, and this time around he couldn’t stop the sound of laughter bubbling up at the look of utter confusion on the other man’s face. Oh boy, Cas was in for a surprise.

Chapter 2: Two.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He had by chance met Dean Winchester in a bakery.

They’d agreed to meet for drinks on Friday.

Dean had two kids.

No matter how often Castiel reminded himself of these facts, the surreality of it all hit him just as hard. The shock of running into someone unexpectedly after twenty years, would’ve been enough on its own, but for it to be Dean Winchester of all people. And for Dean to be a dad. Somehow that detail got him the hardest, even though it shouldn’t be surprising that someone you haven’t heard a single thing about in twenty years, might go and lead a life other than the one they had been set up for, when you’d known them.

Castiel had felt the strong impulse to hug him as soon as he recognised Dean, but he knew he had no right to do so. He wouldn’t even have dared to ask for them to meet up, but he was incredibly glad, they would. In fact, Castiel wouldn’t have been surprised if Dean had poured hot coffee on him or had just walked out of the bakery without saying a word. He certainly had every right to do so. But maybe Dean had changed in more ways than one and wasn’t as resentful anymore as he’d been as a young man.

Friday technically wasn’t too far from Tuesday, but it turned into a lifetime, when you were forced to work at Novak Inc. Days filled with meetings and making nice with associates he didn’t care for, always felt tedious. However, now that he had plans, he actually looked forward to, something seemed to conspire against him in making the minutes pass even slower. He couldn’t even muster up the motivation to seem interested, which earned him more than one scowl on Michael’s behalf. Castiel had pretended to be non-plussed and reminded himself multiple times throughout the day that this was only a temporary arrangement.

Come Friday, he felt more nervous than he had in a long time. One wrong word and Dean would want nothing to do with him anymore. He himself certainly didn’t like the person he’d become, but Dean would hate the Castiel Novak that sat in his fancy office and ordered his employees around. It didn’t help that Dean had looked every bit as good as Castiel remembered, besides having a family and probably helping underprivileged kids by setting them up for a good life.

To his own horror, Castiel found himself changing three times until he settled on beige pants and a white shirt. It was probably way too formal but at least he’d been informed by his friend Meg that his arms looked good when he rolled up his sleeves. Or more accurately “as if they could hold you up against the wall for hours” were the words she’d used. Since he lacked a more objective assessment, he had to go with what she was telling him.

His punctuality definitely didn’t give him the laidback air he would have liked to give off either. He slipped into a booth, ten minutes before they’d arranged to meet and Dean was notoriously late. Or used to be anyways. It gave him time to order a beer though and in that, something to hold onto by the time that Dean came through the bar’s doors a mere six minutes late. He looked relaxed in his jeans, a band t-shirt and a red flannel, and it immediately made Castiel feel even more like an impostor. There was no reason for Dean to want to be friends with someone like him.

However, Dean’s eyes lit up when he spotted him and he gestured to the bar to signal that he was also getting himself a drink before he settled into the booth opposite Castiel with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, I got out of work late and still had to cook for the kids,” he groaned. “Hope you didn’t wait for too long.” Non-committally Castiel shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyway, sorry if I seem tired, I definitely didn’t give my teachers enough credit when I was in school. It’s the beginning of the year and I basically have to rethink my entire syllabus. Plus the first parent teacher conference is coming up soon and I don’t even know these children.”

Dean took a big gulp of his beer. Listening to him was fascinating – on the outside he seemed so familiar and yet, the things he was saying weren’t matching what Castiel had come to expect. He would have liked to hear more about his teaching position, but apparently the warm-up period was over already, since Dean looked at him expectantly and stated, “So you already know that I’m a high school teacher, but what about you? What are you doing back in good old Lawrence? Didn’t think you’d ever grace us with your presence again.” The resentment was well hidden behind his casual tone, but Castiel could still see it in the slight set of Dean’s jaw and the way he gripped his glass just a little tighter.

He wasn’t a fool – their acquaintance was very much on probation, so he chose his words carefully. “I have been asked to temporarily fill in a position as a manager with my family’s business until a replacement can be found.” The last thing Castiel wanted, was to sound eager for this job.

“I see, so you went all Warren White after all.”

The name didn’t ring any bells but the statement still made him painfully aware that Castiel had wanted to go to school for the arts. Usually, he tried to shove those failed ambitions to the back of his mind – what’s done is done. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that getting a business degree probably wasn’t wise when your family owned one of the biggest companies in business consulting, which you didn’t want anything to do with. However, Novaks didn’t really get to decide on their own, they went with what their father deemed best. Dean’s disappointment in his decision only mirrored his own, but he had already paid for going against his parents’ wishes once.

“It is only for a while,” he stated, resenting his own neutral tone. “I don’t actually intend to work there full time.” As teenagers neither of them had even known just how brutal his family’s tactics in overhauling and restructuring companies really was, but he’d picked up on enough during dinner conversations. Michael’s sneer had told him anything he’d wanted to know, and anything Castiel had known, Dean had been told the minute they saw each other. Being compared to White couldn’t be a compliment.

“So what do you do, when you are not being dictated by Mr. Novak?”

Castiel took his time replying. The urge to defend himself grew stronger, but he tried to swallow it down and reminded himself he deserved every bit of distrust. He had chosen to bend to his family’s beliefs and values and had taken up work at Novak Inc., which he wasn’t sure should be forgiven.

For a brief interlude after he’d graduated from college, Castiel had felt that he could maybe use his degree for good even if he didn’t want it in the first place. Straight out of college he had worked at one of his professors’ outreach programs, which set up business accelerator projects for and helped fund companies that benefitted social equality. It had put his degree from business school to good work and even better, it had made him kind of happy to see the look on his parents’ faces when they’d discovered he was working at dismantling the whole system they tried to uphold.

Telling Dean this felt like a white lie, even though every part of it was true. The irony of his job switch didn’t seem to be lost on Dean and his scepticism lay heavy in the air around them.

At first it had been small requests like seeing a client, while he was in the area anyway; simply representing the Novak family name. However, having your college fees paid by the family estate unfortunately came with its own kind of debt. Errands had turned into freelancing and now this temporary position. It’s easy to be stoic when your young but in the end it was always only a matter of time until he came back. It felt important to redeem himself, but Castiel didn’t know if he could.

After a distinctively uncomfortable pause, Dean shook his head as if to clear it and said off-handedly, “Well you gotta do, what you gotta do. Did I tell you what my kids are called yet?”

The change of topic seemed abrupt but it seemed too good to be true that the interrogation was over already. When Castiel shook his head, Dean went on to tell him all about them: Claire was eleven and Ben was seven. She loved to sing pop music at the top of her lungs, especially “that new crap”, which drove her dad mad and was awfully competitive at every game you played. She did well in school, even though she had talked back to teachers quite a few times, which Dean claimed had bothered him, but he didn’t seem too worried. “It’s good not to be a push-over,” he admitted with a shrug, when Castiel raised an eyebrow. Ben basically tried to be just like his dad, claimed Led Zeppelin was his favourite band and indulged in all of the things Dean liked. It wasn’t hard to see his dad worried about how much of his mannerisms his son adopted and knowing what he’d been like as a teenager, Castiel could understand why. Their family lived in a small house on the west side of town and had a small garden, too. Dean had done good for himself.

The longer he went on, Castiel could feel a lump in his throat growing, so he only made small agreeing noises in between. Every word shone with pride and Dean’s life sounded wonderful: he had a family that he cared for and that evidently loved him. On the one hand it was hard to reconcile the image Castiel had nursed of his friend over the past nearly twenty years, as a hardened, rebellious teenager, who couldn’t give a crap about domestic life, and this well-adjusted man in his mid-thirties before him, who seemed happier than he had ever seen him. On the other as much as he loathed it, the small twinge he felt at Dean’s stories was jealousy. He shouldn’t be upset - hadn’t he always known that that kind of life was not made for him? The thing was, he’d just always assumed Dean would be in the same dysfunctional category and embarrassingly, that thought had given him some solace.

Once upon a time, Castiel could have told his friend what he was feeling but now he couldn’t let his face betray anything. So he let Dean ramble on about his children, trying to listen intently and ignore the tiny stabs to his heart.

“So, I guess, I’ve bored you out of your mind now with my dad rambling, so what about you?" Dean concluded finally and Castiel couldn’t think of a single thing worth mentioning. Obviously, there were no kids in his life. He lived in a tiny apartment paid for by his father who Dean hated more than he himself did. The only thing close to a relationship that he could think of had been a brief relationship to a woman named Daphne, the daughter of one of his father’s associates. It had been over rather quickly and he didn’t really care to discuss why. With a small frown he offered: “I was thinking of getting a cat.” And if that didn’t make him feel pathetic, the look that Dean gave him sure did.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he looked at Dean’s hands instead. They still looked a bit rough from all the hard work he’d done over the years and he wore the same silver rings on his slender fingers. Dean’s life spelt out in metal. The broad one with a horizontal groove he bought at a tiny store on a road trip because it looked like his mom’s wedding ring that was lost in the fire on his right ring finger. On his right index finger one with a black stone, that had been in Bobby’s family for years. He didn’t tell anybody, but Castiel knew Dean had cried his eyes out after Bobby had given it to him, when he had turned eighteen. A battered looking thin band on his left thumb that he had bought by the beach when he took Sam on their first proper holiday. Another broader band, that Dean had made himself in Bobby’s garage one day, when he was bored on his left middle finger. Directly above it another band with wavy lines engraved in it – Castiel knew Jo had the same one. And the final one, the only Castiel hadn’t committed to memory: a wedding ring, not dissimilar to his mother’s, only with three grooves in it instead of one.

When he looked back up to meet Dean’s eyes, he stated, “We haven’t talked about your wife yet.” He’d hoped his tone was neutral and didn’t convey any feelings he might have towards Dean having a wife, but the man opposite him suddenly looked very deflated.

For a beat, Dean looked as though he might not say anything, then replied, “Yeah, I was hoping to push that to another time… But I guess the ring gives it away.” He licked his lips. Castiel wondered what he might mean by that. Dean was as loyal as anyone and there was no reason to hide a wife from a childhood friend. There’d been so much pride in his voice when talking about his family, Castiel would have thought he would have been elated to talk about the woman who made it all possible. Back when he’d known Dean, the other had wondered whether he could even hold down a relationship, he should be giddy at the prospect of it having worked.

Even though he knew saying that out loud would certainly cross the line for their first meeting, Castiel considered stating it anyways because he had never been known for his subtlety, when Dean added, “She’s been… Lisa’s been dead for over a year now. Cancer.” He kept his eyes trained on the table in front of him, while he absentmindedly turned the wedding band on his finger.

“Oh,” was what Castiel’s mind came up with as an acceptable reply.

Dean looked up sharply. “Yeah, let’s not talk about it, okay? Don’t need you joining Sam in the pity party.”

Glad to change the subject too, Castiel nodded curtly then asked, “How’s Sam by the way?”

At least that seemed to still be a sure bet as Dean’s eyes lit back up and he started rambling about how his brother had grown up to do exceptionally well at law school, how he had fought his way back out of a tough spot (even though he didn’t say what kind) and how he had found himself “a girl”. A girl that Dean apparently really liked, that had made both Winchester brothers learn sign language and that had given Sam exactly the domestic life he’d always wanted and two children as a bonus. Occasionally Sam and Eileen came out to visit them with the kids and they all crammed into Dean’s home and by the way he gesticulated wildly and beamed at that, Castiel could almost see Dean fussing about everybody and having the time of his life during those visits. The thought made him smile despite his own feelings of inadequacy.

At around eleven Dean looked at the clock on the wall and cursed, “Ah shit, man, I need to leave and make sure Claire got Ben in bed alright.” He rifled through his purse for the bills to cover his drinks and then smiled up at Castiel sheepishly. “Sorry I talked this much; next time I’d love to hear about you for a change.”

Castiel waved him off. “You know, there’s not much else to say. But a next time would still be, uh… nice.” Nice didn’t begin to describe it, but Dean grinned at him, so it seemed to be fine.

“Look, you can text me and we can sort something out. Just not on school nights.”

That made Castiel snort. Yes, he did listen through Dean describing his children in the most enthusiastic terms for the past three hours, but this level of Dad responsibility was still hard for him to comprehend. Ignoring the questioning glance, Dean sent him, he said, “You should get going, I’ll handle the bill.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean sighed gratefully and put on his leather jacket. Then he pushed out of the booth and while Castiel’s brain was still working in overdrive about what the socially acceptable goodbye could possibly be, Dean had already squeezed his shoulder. “See you next time,” he husked before walking right out the door, leaving Castiel to dumbfoundedly stare after him.

Were it not for the slightly giddy feeling in his gut, he would have thought, he had made it all up. Besides if he had thought beforehand that this meeting would lighten his confusion as to why Dean even bothered with him, it had definitely only made it worse.

Notes:

The next chapter will be up next Sunday - have a lovely week :)

Chapter 3: Three.

Notes:

Please read the end notes for more information on the site, that is described in this chapter. Like Dean I believe it is important to include all the facts in the history taught in school and how that history still impacts people today.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It hadn’t come as a surprise that Charlie had turned him down – even down the phone line he could hear she was stressed out of her mind. She had started babbling about changing a very important scene before hanging up, when she had gotten another call. Dean made a mental note to drop her off something to eat sometime, so she at least had something in her stomach other than take out.

The same went for Jo. “I’ll leave you to do that history nerd stuff on your own,” she’d laughed. “I really have other plans on a Saturday.” Her plans probably included a movie marathon by herself and lots of popcorn, but Dean didn’t want to call her out on it.

Sam, the nerd, would have loved to go check out the sites for his upcoming field trip with him, but unfortunately there were too many miles between them for him to just pop in for an afternoon.

Garth had promised to take the kids mini-golfing, Benny coached the football team on Saturdays and Victor had already made plans. Jody and Donna had a date planned and really couldn’t talk, which he didn’t want to know more about.

Which left Dean with Cas. All morning, he pondered whether asking your childhood friend that you had fallen out with until recently on a three-hour round trip with no chance of escaping if it got too much, was as bad an idea as it sounded. Their drinks had been civil enough, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to just ignore the elephant in the room. He really wanted to try to make things normal again, but he was kind of out of small talk and car rides could end in lots of talking. There were only so many topics, he felt good about, and with Cas being quiet he had rushed through all of them already, trying not to let the silences catch up to him.

He debated calling Charlie a second time, just to see what she thought, but ultimately decided against it – he was an adult who could make their own decisions, for god’s sake. As much as he liked to sometimes be alone, though, in the end he gave himself a kick in the butt just to be done with his thoughts. It couldn’t turn out that bad.

Cas had agreed to accompany him without a moment of hesitation and that was how Dean found himself picking him up at his apartment three days later. The last time he’d been rushing to the bar; this time around there was nothing to distract him from the nervous flutter in his stomach. He had snapped at Claire, when she wasn’t ready by the time they needed to leave, only to rush back inside for his wallet as soon as they’d finally settled in his car. Now he found himself drumming a rhythm onto the steering wheel and checking his phone every thirty seconds.

When Cas stepped out of the building it seemed that he had at least gotten the memo that he didn’t have to dress as if he was going to a job interview. Instead, he looked distinctively more like a suburban dad in his dark blue fleece jacket and his functional hiking boots. He’d also brought a backpack that looked like it could hold provisions for days. Cas’s frown when he climbed into the passenger seat, told Dean he didn’t hide his smirk well.

“You going on an adventure?” he asked smugly. When his friend didn’t reply, he amended, “All the hiking gear? You know land’s flat here in Lawrence, don’t you?”

“Well, I thought it would be best to come prepared,” Cas replied sincerely, which just reminded Dean, how hard it was to tease him.

With a sigh he started the engine and off they were. It was an hour’s drive out to the monument, but the roads were empty and the familiar feeling of freedom didn’t take long to kick in. Endless road trips as children should have made Dean resent them, but instead leaving the latest shitty town behind had never been anything other than a relief.

After a little driving, Cas asked, “You still like this classical rock music?”

The Led Zeppelin playing in the background should have been clue enough, but Dean rose to the bait nonetheless. “Do I still like it? It’s the best music ever made.”

Instead of looking taken aback, Cas softly stated, “I like it – reminds me of the past.” And just like that they were in choppy water again.

“Yeah, well have I told you where we are going?” Without waiting for an answer Dean ploughed on, “I need to cover the Santa Fe Trail with one of my classes but I’m trying to tell the whole story and I read about this trail called Allegawaho Memorial Heritage Park. Even if their ideas aren’t cool enough for high schoolers, I thought it might be worth checking it out and it’s important, so maybe I can think of some stuff to keep them interested. I also need to collect arguments for the board to approve this trip… it should be fun?” He’d definitely have to work on his presentation for the head of the department, but that was the whole point of this trip.

“It sounds interesting to me,” Cas told him and wore the same earnest look on his face, he’d always had when Dean had explained something to him. Like he really wanted to understand every word that passed Dean’s lips. It made him feel a little queasy without being able to put his finger on exactly why. After a while he added, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” It was a good thing Dean was driving or he might have closed his eyes. No, you can’t Castiel, you haven’t earned back your right to ask me anything. He used his grip on the steering wheel to brace himself for the next question.

“Why did you choose history as your subject?”

Something boiled up under his skin – this wasn’t the first time someone had thought it necessary to point out his inadequacy. It certainly shouldn’t be a surprise Mister Ivy-League-Novak thought that way. “What? You think I would have done better as a Gym teacher?” Dean was a good history teacher, he knew that. He shouldn’t have to defend this to somebody who hardly knew him. He was driving to the potential destination of a school outing in his spare time, for Christ’s sake.

“No, I don’t," Castiel regarded him thoughtfully. “I would have thought you would have gone for English. Sam was always much more interested in the history of places.”

Oh. Dean tried to even out his breathing before answering. Deep breath in, deep breath out; eyes on the road. “I thought so, too,” he admitted, “but then I looked at the syllabus and it all felt so pretentious to be discussing these books, when really they were written to be enjoyed, you know? What do I care about the grammar someone uses, as long as it makes me feel a certain way.” He stole a glance towards the passenger seat. Cas nodded along and didn’t seem to look down on his approach, so he continued, “With history - you can learn why people did stuff in their time and even why an author chose to write their book and I guess, I’m just interested in the connections. There are so many things I wish we were taught. Also, in uni I wrote an essay on the impact of war on pop-culture once and… what?”

Castiel was smiling at him. Not one of his patented quiet smiles, but a full-blown, gums and all smile. “Nothing. I just think, it’s beautiful that you found something you’re so passionate about.”

Beautiful. Yeah, inviting Cas had definitely been a bad idea. “I just like it, that’s all,” Dean mumbled, but couldn’t help the blush spreading. Choppy water.

“Thanks for telling me, Dean,” Castiel added, and Dean couldn’t look at him for fear of drowning in those words. “For the record I think it is important to include different voices in the narrative we teach. I’m really glad you asked me along.”

“Me, too.”

Time would tell whether that was true at all.

 

 

When they reached the trail, Dean was relieved to see that there wasn’t anybody else there. The sky was grey above them, but the air was clear and from their slightly elevated position one could see far out over the prairie. The quiet felt appropriate.

The trail started with a pause spot with large stone panels containing ribbon weaving patterns typical for the Kaw nation and a prayer etched into the edges. A couple of years ago Dean wouldn’t have bothered looking at it for longer than two seconds and even now he sometimes found it hard to appreciate symbolism in the moment. Cas certainly seemed intrigued by it though, and when it came down to it that had always been good enough for him. Besides, his own feelings served as a good reminder that it would be crucial on this trip to instil respect for other beliefs and cultures in his pupils.

His friend spent several more minutes standing still like a statue just looking at it until Dean interrupted to announce he was going to walk along the trail so long and Cas could just catch up with him later.

His own goals were mostly seeing whether the area looked exciting enough to convince teenagers it was worth their time, and whether there was anywhere he’d definitely loose some of them. In his own youth, he’d certainly done his fair share of slinking off to drink or make out or just sit by himself for a bit, but that didn’t mean he liked the responsibility when he was on the other side.

As he walked the dirt trail, he made a note of the informational stops and as he read, the gloomy sky only added to the uneasy feeling in his gut. He’d read it all before, but it never ceased to shock him that there hadn’t been a word about it in his history lessons. History is written by the victors, he reminded himself.

Along the way, one could inspect the ruins of buildings the US. Government built to house the Kanza even though they refused and a replica of a traditional earth lodge. There were reminders of the Kanza’s beliefs and their appreciation of their land. Looking at the vastness around him, it felt like Dean was looking into another time, even though it hadn’t been that long ago that settlers had committed their crimes.

When he stood for a moment and looked back, Cas was intently studying every descriptive board in sight and seemed genuinely deep in thought. His forehead creased slightly as if he was trying to work something out and he kept unzipping and rezipping his fleece jacket. Luckily, he was distracted enough not to notice Dean openly staring at him.

Despite trying to focus on his job, he was still trying to work out, whether he had made the right call bringing Cas here. It was reckless to open up old wounds, but Dean had never been known for his sensible decision making. Before they’d bumped into each other he had been perfectly content with his life - bar the dead wife part of course - and yet, he deeply craved Cas’s friendship. Castiel Novak was like nobody else he’d ever met. Over the course of their friendship, he had gotten to know him better than anybody else and there was something so disarming about him, that alone should be enough to send Dean running to the hills.

This week he had tried to repeat over and over to himself, that history wouldn’t repeat itself, since they were both adults now. But thinking of his own issues, thinking that thirty-year-olds had their shit together was an elaborate prank pulled on teenagers. Who was to say, Cas had worked through his? He still came running at his father’s word for Christ’s sake. Dean craved his friendship and yet now, it seemed impossible to obtain in a healthy way.

“Dean, did you know, their former name could be translated to People of the South Wind?” Cas called out excitedly his words fittingly muffled by the breeze.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m the history teacher who planned this outing, remember?” he teased, but stepped closer nonetheless to be swept up in Cas’s enthusiasm. It was impossible to obtain in a healthy way and yet, he knew in his gut, he would do anything to get back to where they had been anyway.

 

Notes:

The site - Allegawaho Memorial Heritage Park - that Cas and Dean visit during this chapter is a real place. If like me you don't live close by I recommend taking a virtual tour on their website and if you are in Kansas do visit! I didn't feel like it was my place to explain the historical events or anything on the Kanza's culture but I encourage you to educate yourself on the Native People of your region.
If any of you feel like any of this chapter is offensive, please don't hesitate to reach out to me. I did my best to be respectful but as I'm not Native American myself, I'm sure there are things I am ignorant about.

Chapter 4: Four.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

As always, it didn’t take long for anxiety to creep in. What if he had unintentionally said something hurtful on their trip that upset Dean, so he didn’t want to see him again? To him it had all seemed like simple conversation but he wasn’t the best judge of that. What if Dean had discovered Castiel really was just a boring corporate figure and that their friendship wasn’t worth pursuing after all?

The doubts built up all week until the Saturday, when he’d been invited to go for drinks at the Roadhouse with Dean and some friends. The Roadhouse that Ellen, basically Dean’s second mother, owned who Castiel remembered very well. Given the last time she’d see him had been with a black eye and a bloodied Dean with an arm slung around his shoulder, he could work out exactly what she thought of him.

His lack of casual wear was certainly becoming a problem too, when he had to come up with something presentable every time he went out to see Dean. Castiel had no doubt Dean’s friends would be cool interesting people, who would talk about things he had no idea of like cars and rock music and whatever else Dean was into these days. The very least he could do was try not to look like a corporate cut out. He seriously considered calling Meg back in Boston to see whether she would assist him with his outfit again, but then he’d have to endure her prodding questions too and he didn’t need to feel more nervous than he already did.

It was an all around bad idea, one that Dean talked him into with just a bat of his eyelashes.

Once again Dean picked him up in the impala and apparently, he hadn’t been subtle about his intentions since he was immediately greeted by a smirk. “Didn’t know you own a leather jacket, Cas!”

The words “There’s a few things you’re yet to find out about me” were out before he could stop them, but Dean didn’t even flinch at the implication.

Instead, he hummed appreciatively and stated, “Well, it looks good, you should ditch the dress shirts more often!” Ignoring the compliment for his own sanity’s sake, Castiel got in and tried to relax.

Dean seemed to be in a great mood – he hummed along to the radio all the way to the Roadhouse and his fingers tapped the rhythm on the steering wheel. Occasionally he looked over at Castiel and smiled so wide, he wondered whether he should be concerned. Dean had been pleasant the last time, but this was… oh, they were meeting up with his friends, that would be it. The thought only made him slightly jealous, or at least that was what he tried to convince himself of. He’d been asked along at least.

The Roadhouse looked more or less the same as it had when they were still in school. The wood had gotten a little darker and the sign above the entrance was no longer painted green, but a dark blue instead. All in all though, Castiel was taken aback by how similar it looked to the one in his memories. After school they had often dropped by and Sam, Dean and himself had done their homework at one of the large wooden tables. Later, under Sam’s protests he and Dean had headed out to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the area, talking for hours and when they were older, they snuck behind the bushes to smoke their first cigarettes. When Dean turned sixteen, he occasionally picked up a shift bartending, when Ellen was sure it wouldn’t interfere with his school work and Castiel snuck out to come and watch him at the bar.

He was so caught up in his memories he didn’t notice Dean watching him intently, until he felt a light touch at his shoulder. “Come on,” Dean said, “it won’t bite. And if you’re worried about Ellen or Jo, they aren’t here tonight, so they can’t bite you either.” He tried to not let his relief show but couldn’t help exhaling deeply before getting out of the car.

A little more prepared, Castiel didn’t get as distracted when they stepped inside and the familiar smell of beer, smoke and barbeque hit them. Even inside it felt like stepping into a time capsule. It was already crowded even though it was only eight o’clock and he could only just suppress the urge to grab Dean’s arm. It felt like he didn’t know anybody, but rationally there were probably at least a handful old patrons that would recognize him. One, he had spent enough time here in his teenage years and two, Novak was a household name in Lawrence. He’d been in enough family photos for the city’s newspaper that trying to avoid recognition was nearly impossible. One could only hope Dean’s new friends weren’t local or he'd have to face another interrogation he wasn’t ready for.

Dean of course was hollered at immediately and waved to someone behind the bar with a mullet and a leather vest. Ash, Castiel’s mind supplied after a moment’s hesitation, a couple years older than himself. He wondered whether he was still the person to go to for weed around here – he certainly still looked the part of small-town hippie drug dealer.

Suddenly Dean’s mouth was way closer to his ear than expected. Goosebumps rose on Castiel’s neck when he was asked what he’d like to drink. He gulped. “Beer?” Dean clarified and he nodded. He needed to get a grip, if he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Dean’s friends.

A couple of minutes later he followed Dean through the crowd, trying not to spill his beer on himself and cursing himself that he hadn’t asked who would be there. From the table at the back there were three faces watching him already, who probably knew everything about him when he knew virtually nothing. It felt a little like going to one of Dean’s high school parties.

Going around Dean introduced them: Benny, the large, bearded guy, Victor, who grinned at him so wide, Castiel was a little concerned what he’d been told about him, and Charlie with her bright red hair and large print shirt. All of them looked a little too eager to meet him for his taste. Then Dean threw his arm over Castiel’s shoulder and announced: “And this is Cas, my long-lost childhood friend!” Castiel could feel himself go stiff under Dean’s hand but tried to smile even though he felt like he was being inspected under a microscope. Yes, he felt exactly like at those high school parties.

Time grinded to a halt, when Charlie grinned at him widely and asked, “So this is the mystery man, who can make Dean Winchester gush?” She looked perfectly innocent but Castiel nearly choked nonetheless. Suddenly he wasn’t sure the heat in the bar hadn’t gone up a couple degrees – she couldn’t be implicating what he thought she was, could she? Surely, Dean would tear her a new one for even the hint.

Instead Dean just winked back. “Don’t be rude,” he teased. “You’re just sad, you don’t have the same effect on me!” And just like that the topic was brushed off and Castiel had the distinct expression he was the only one at the table that felt like he had been electrocuted. He took a large gulp of his beer to calm his nerves – it had been a joke at Dean’s cost not his. Castiel was good at being unreadable, but with Dean in his orbit this had just gotten a whole lot harder. Just in case he gripped his beer a little tighter and the cross lay heavy against his chest. He was glad to have tucked it out of sight.

They sat down and conversation drifted to school politics since Benny was apparently also a teacher – gym if Castiel couldn’t have guessed by his stature – and he was glad for it: it left him with the opportunity to gather his wits and try to get a feel for Dean’s friends. It wasn’t hard to see that Dean felt at ease with them. He smiled and laughed loudly and gestured excitedly when he was talking. Victor made lewd jokes every now and then, that made him laugh outrageously and even though Dean had always tried to hide his love for “nerdier” stuff in high school with Charlie in the room he seemed to go full nerd. Occasionally someone asked Castiel a question about his interests or work, but he was quick in his answers and they seemed to sense that he didn’t want to be pressed on it. Besides he was happy being the onlooker for now. Dean was a warm reassuring shoulder besides him and although they probably thought him boring anything was better than being thought of as weird.

Only once did he get swept up in a debate with Charlie, when she proposed ludicrously that every other comic book artist could produce better art than Andy Warhol. It had been quite some time since he had gone into art theory and Charlie was the perfect challenger. He was almost relieved to see his passion for it was still as fiery as ever, even though he didn’t have any particular interest in Warhol and despite spending the last few years trying his best to convince himself that he was better at numbers anyway. To his surprise even Dean joined in the debate - Dean who had once told him “art in a museum is a waste, because normal people don’t get to look at it”. Although as Castiel got older he sometimes thought, seventeen-year-old Dean might have had a point.

A couple of beers in he felt a pleasant buzz and wished Meg could see him – she was always telling him to make friends. Up until now hadn’t really allowed himself to miss Boston or his friends there, but now he felt a longing for their evenings at the pizza place around the corner from his apartment that was now empty waiting for his return. He really hadn’t believed he’d be in Lawrence long enough to have to make friends in the first place.

That was the moment a brunette chose to come up to their table. “Hi, I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself and held out a hand for Dean to shake. Across the table from him Victor lifted his eyebrows and Charlie smirked into her beer. “I was wondering whether you would like to play a game of darts with us?” she continued. “We are missing a fourth person.” She nodded back over her shoulder where two of her friends were waiting and looking at them.

She had a pretty smile and if Castiel wasn’t mistaken, she was exactly Dean’s type. Plus, he had to commend her bravery for coming over to a table full of people like this.

However, Dean didn’t look too enthused. “Hi Brandy, thanks for the invite but I think I’ll stick with my friends tonight!” he replied. His smile was pleasant enough, but from experience Castiel could tell it wasn’t completely genuine.

Apparently, Brandy wasn’t as attentive though, because she insisted, it would only be for one game. “Your friends can join,” she added hopefully.

“Sorry, but I’m not looking for anything tonight,” Dean announced more firmly and demonstratively took a sip from his beer.

Suddenly her eyes widened for an instant and then she went bright red. “Oh, you’re married. Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

Then she quickly shuffled away, leaving behind an awkward silence at their table. Castiel would have felt sorry for her if Dean didn’t look so struck next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny grimace and after a moment of confusion he looked over at his friend looking down at his rings like he was seeing them for the first time. It was painful to look at him, but the tension in Dean’s shoulders kept Castiel from reaching out to him. He didn’t miss the other’s pitying looks either – apparently this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Granted, he had made the same remark on their first bar night.

“I’m getting shots,” Victor announced loudly into the silence and it was only when he had downed one of them before announcing that he still had to drive, that Dean looked more like himself again.

After a while they returned to talking about mundane things, but Castiel couldn’t quite shake the unease and by the looks of it neither could Dean. By the time they’d made it out of the bar it was one o’clock. Castiel couldn’t remember when he was last out and about this late, but he sure had been enjoying himself. They got into the car and he felt a twinge of regret that the night was already over. He was still musing whether he could convince Dean to come up to his apartment for another beer without making it weird, when he noticed they were going in the opposite direction than they were supposed to.

Slightly concerned, he stated, “Dean this is not the way back to my apartment.” Maybe Dean shouldn’t be driving after all?

Dean however just flashed him a big smile. “Smart cookie.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re kidnapping me,” Castiel huffed and wondered whether he would mind being kidnapped by Dean. Especially when his friend was still slightly on edge.

“It will be fun, I swear.”

“Being kidnapped?”

In the darkness of the car, Castiel couldn’t see the eye roll, but he could feel it.

“No spoil sport, we are going on an adventure!” Dean announced and Castiel briefly considered his options. However, seen as he was currently sitting in the front seat of a moving car and Dean radiated the same child-like excitement, he’d always admired, there was nothing to do but to sigh, sit back and see where he took him. At least his trust in his friend never changed even if that meant going on an unknown adventure at one am. After all he had wished for the night not to be over, hadn’t he?

 

Notes:

Any guesses where their adventure will be? Also yay for other characters :D

Chapter 5: Five.

Notes:

Quick note at the beginning: this is the first chapter where characters express unhealthy views of homosexuality and there will be others in the future.
1) Be aware of that and take the time to step away from stories like this if it is triggering to read about these views. I do promise however that throughout the work Dean and Castiel will get to a much healthier place.
2) The views expressed in this work are not mine, I fully support everybody regardless of gender identity or sexuality. However, I still think the feelings expressed have a place in fiction as I'm sure a lot of you can sympathise with them.
Take care of yourself and thanks for reading :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Come on, Cas!”

“Absolutely not.” In the street lamps’ light Cas looked almost disgusted at the idea Dean had just proposed.

“Why not? This isn’t Mission Impossible.”

“Dean, I work in corporate. I don’t break into swimming pools in my spare time.”

“Exactly, you need to loosen up a little. We used to do this all the time, remember?”

The look on Cas’s face told Dean that they remembered the same thing: him going along with the group and an overexcited Dean reluctantly, but unwillingly enjoying himself in the end. What was there not to enjoy about having a whole swimming pool to themselves? Of course, Dean shouldn’t lie – the fun lay in not being caught as well. But his muscles could really use a nice long, warm soak and he felt confident enough they wouldn’t get caught, since the security didn’t look like it had been upgraded in the last twenty years. After that experience at the bar just now, he deserved all the relaxation he could get. Experimentally, he shook the wooden fence. The spot was hidden from the security cameras and the wood seemed steady enough to climb over.

“You’re a dad," Cas reminded him. “I really don’t think we should be doing this. Who’s going to come get us out of jail if we are arrested for trespassing?” It was a valid point. However, Dean hadn’t felt this young in years and he was fairly sure he could still outrun the police officers if he had to. His kids would never know.

“Jo will pick us up,” Dean deadpanned. And Jo would laugh the whole way home, he didn’t add. With that he ended the discussion by stepping onto the bottom beam of the fence and starting to climb. When he swung one leg over the top, he glanced down at Cas and raised an eyebrow. “You coming?”

With a loud sigh, that would have gotten them caught had anybody been around, Cas checked their surroundings one last time before beginning to scale the fence as well. Dean felt a triumphant grin spread over his face. Apparently, he still had the ability to be a bad influence on people. God, he hoped, Claire did not get wind of this or she’d be the first person to jump over the fence – sometimes she was a little too much like her dad for her own good. He could almost hear Lisa’s voice in his head, scolding him for encouraging Claire’s rebelliousness too much.

Inside it was nearly black, but Dean had been here so often in the years around his high school graduation, he could have shut his eyes and made his way across to the hot water pool blind.

“Stay close to me,” he instructed Castiel, who rolled his eyes, but placed his hand on Dean’s arm anyway. That combined with the nerves of getting caught, bubbled in his stomach and made him feel almost drunk, even though he’d only had one beer and a shot earlier.

He half expected someone to already be there, but apparently kids today didn’t know what was good for them. Which in turn was good for him, since he wasn’t sure being caught trespassing by a student would go down well with their parents or his employer.

Ignoring the threatening awkwardness Dean quickly stripped off everything but his underwear – it shouldn’t feel awkward, he’d seen Cas without clothes a hundred times. He didn’t really want to think about why it felt weird, so he busied himself making a neat pile and not looking at Cas. So what, that he had gotten a bit thicker around his middle or that his nakedness exposed his tattoos?

When he lowered himself into the water he nearly sighed with content. It was true what they said about back aches as you get older and this was exactly what he needed. He sank onto one of the tiled benches in the water and couldn’t help but wonder, when exactly and more importantly why he’d decided he was too old for this.

After a few seconds of bliss, he opened his eyes to see Cas still standing fully clothed at the edge of the pool looking tentatively at the water.

“Hey Cas, have you forgotten how to swim?” Dean called out and yes, he deserved the dirty look he received in return.

“No, but I wasn’t under the impression that I would have to bring a bathing suit for a night out at a bar.”

“Well, nobody’s here, so you might as well wing it.”

“I don’t want to wing it,” Cas replied pointedly, and Dean was starting to worry, that the awkwardness might still very well be there, despite his best efforts to nip it in the bud.

“You can’t get go swimming like that, Cas,” he tried to reason, like this wasn’t a completely ridiculous conversation.

“I could.”

This whole conversation reminded him way too much of the fights, he’d had with Claire when she was around five years old and didn’t want to have a bath. She would never grow tired of arguing. In surrender, Dean threw his hands up, splashing himself in the face in the process. “Alright, you can wear your clothes if you want to as long as you don’t get baby wet later,” he grumbled and tried not to dwell on the weirdness, either. He didn’t remember Cas being self-conscious, but then again, a lot could change in twenty years.

Slowly, Cas got out of his pants and shoes, but kept his shirt on, when he climbed onto the bench next to Dean, who didn’t know whether he should be disappointed or relieved. The fabric billowed around Cas and clung to his muscles in others, and he couldn’t imagine it was comfortable. Slowly, the pool did its work though and the tension in his muscles eased as Dean let it go. What did it matter that Cas was weird from time to time? He was here and that was more than Dean had for years. Things would fall into place.

The minutes ticked by. It was dark and the water was warm. The steam rose around them as they sat in comfortable silence. Dean allowed himself to look at Castiel through it, take in the way he’d tilted his head back with his eyes closed.  He seemed relaxed for once, which suited him, made the lines in his face disappear. His hair was sticking up into every direction and not even his stupid, floaty t-shirt could distract Dean from his striking profile. The dark lashes, the full lips, the slightest stubble along his jaw line that Cas would shave as soon as he got ready for work on Monday. Maybe it was the lull of the warm water, but here in the almost dark it didn’t hurt anyone if he permitted himself to look. It felt like years ago that he’d last let himself appreciate another man when there was no mindless drinking and a clear end goal in mind.

The sudden urge to lift his hand up to Castiel’s jaw did hurt – it unleashed an ache in his chest that needed to be squashed immediately, or he wouldn’t be able to keep it back down and it would consume him. It would burn and ransack until there was nothing left – Dean had let it once. There was something squirming under his skin, that he didn’t want to think about. Involuntarily his breathing got quicker until Cas pried his eyes open and now his blue eyes reflected nothing but worry.

“Are you okay?”

Voice shaky and the ache still firmly in place, Dean tried to steady himself. He nodded.

Cas’s frown only deepened. “Are you sure?” he asked in a tone that called Dean a liar and a friend at the same time.

About to nod again, an unexpected rush of adrenaline passed through him and Dean found himself unwillingly blurting out, “Did you read my letters?” The fire beneath his ribs was burning, he’d already lost control.

Castiel didn’t ask which letters Dean was talking about. Instead, he watched him carefully. Instinctively, Dean pressed his eyes shut really tight. He didn’t want to think about what Cas thought. The only thing he wanted was for the ache to go back to the place it was hidden away. There was a reason he didn’t let himself indulge in looking at other men – it was never enough. What was wrong with him that he brought this up, after already being confronted with the memory of his dead wife?

“I received your letters.” There was a long pause. The water felt too hot and Dean already deeply regretted asking the question. He wasn’t even sure what answer he wanted. When Cas spoke again it was a lot quieter, “I couldn’t read them.”

In a way, that was a relief. Some nights Dean didn’t remember the content just the agony of writing them in his bed at night, sometimes every word felt like it was still etched on his skin.

Just as quietly Cas asked, “Dean, was there something important in those letters?”

Deep breaths. “No,” he lied, voice rough. “I was just wondering.” This time Cas didn’t have to say anything for Dean to know he wasn’t convincing, but he couldn’t say it out loud. He’d already said too much, had let too much of himself slip through the cracks. Dean did what he did best, he stayed silent. With a sigh, Cas leaned back again as well. It wasn’t the same content silence, they’d shared before, but it was better than having to explain.

 

 

Later Dean drove Cas back home.

Neither of them had mentioned the t-shirt again, but when they’d gotten dressed Dean had handed his friend his flannel wordlessly before turning around so Cas could change. He might not be content to not know why Cas felt like he couldn’t let his guard down around him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to show him, he could, anyway. The flannel was a tight fit around Cas’s shoulders, but it was a welcome change from the posh clothes he’d adapted to through the job.

Cas broke the silence first. “You know, I have a question for you too.”

The lurch his stomach did nearly made him swerve.

“What?”

“It’s not an emotional one, Dean,” Cas assured him and it would make him relieved if it didn’t confirm that Cas thought him broken up about the stupid letters. Dean should have just kept his dumb mouth shut about them altogether.

“I have been invited to a dinner party at Anna’s house and I was wondering whether you would come with me,” his friend continued, seemingly oblivious to his turmoil.

Anna, Castiel’s sister. Who had been there, when Dean had made a spectacle of himself on the Novak’s doorstep. He’d seen her around the town a few times after that, but that didn’t count, not really. Her face would forever be etched in his memory as the wide eyed little girl that had clutched at her mother’s side while all hell rained down on Cas and Dean. And here was Castiel asking him to come to her dinner party like it was no big deal.

“Like hell that’s not an emotional question, Cas.”

Cas regarded him carefully. “You don’t have to come; I would just like to have you there.”

Dean swallowed heavily. Those were the magic words. It wasn’t the first time he’d been invited along to the Novak’s as Cas’s big fuck you to his father and upper class in general. Apparently, Cas hadn’t outgrown the need for that. His voice rough he replied, “Of course, I’ll be there. Text me the details.”

He made sure to turn the radio louder after that and kept his eyes on the road the whole way back. It always came down to the inevitable: if you wanted to spend time with one Novak, you still had to put up with the rest of them and their shit. The back of his throat tasted like bile.

 

Notes:

Is breaking into public swimming pools at night a thing in every small town or only in mine? (obviously I don't condone breaking and entering but you know... kids and all that.)

Chapter 6: Six.

Notes:

Get ready for the first chapter I wrote for this story and the longest chapter so far! Hope you like it - if you did let me know in the comments :)

Chapter Text

Dean’s Impala pulled into Castiel’s driveway at quarter to seven sharp. Punctuality seemed to be another virtue his friend had acquired with age.

While he was still wondering whether he should just get into the passenger seat, Dean was already getting out of the driver’s side to lean against the car. He looked good in his button up and his leather jacket. His hair was a little messy and his jeans had a hole in its left knee which he probably knew Novaks didn’t approve of, the latter quite possibly being the reason he had put it on in the first place. If it weren’t for the lines around his eyes and the grey on his temples, it could have been Dean fifteen years ago. He’d picked him up in the Impala countless times and had waited for him standing in the exact same way as well.

“Ready to go?” Dean asked with a smile that felt a little too bright, so Castiel knew he was asking something else too. There were things none of his new friends would ever understand, because they hadn’t been there when it had happened. Dean on the other hand had been right by his side and Castiel knew he was asking whether he was ready to face the memories. How could it be that years later, nothing had changed in his life, when in Dean’s everything had?

“Yeah,” he replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound too shaky. He was ready to go and still, there was nothing he’d rather do than go back into his house and curl up on the couch.

Anna wasn’t even the worst of them and going to her dinner party still felt like taking a stroll in the lion’s den. The salad in his one hand felt very heavy all of a sudden. The other hand unconsciously started to fiddle with his tie, that didn’t ever want to lie right. He could only hope that Dean could still read his words like he could the other way around.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Dean said gently, stepping closer, eyes fixed on the tie. He straightened it like he had done it a hundred times before and Castiel knew he probably had taught his brother how to do it. Maybe even his son. The intimacy of it hit Castiel like a bus. He had to will his eyes to look at a point above Dean’s head, so he didn’t stare at the tip of Dean’s tongue darting through his lips when he was concentrating. If his friend had caught him, he wouldn’t have known how to explain. The moment was gone as soon as the other man stepped back to put a proper distance between them.

Apparently, Dean could still see a hint of something strange in Castiel’s eyes though, because his cheeks turned slightly pink and he mumbled, “Sorry, it becomes natural when you have kids.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel retorted quickly, without adding ‘you’ve always done that, even before you had kids of your own’. “I can’t seem to be able to tie it on my own.” He tightened his fingers on the salad bowl. His next words tumbled out, before there was even a chance for an awkward pause. “Let’s get going, Anna hates it when we are late.”

 

 

They did arrive at Anna’s house right on time. Wasn’t his sister going to be pleased.

On the drive over Dean had seemed a bit more tense than usual, but why wouldn’t he be? He was doing Castiel a huge favour by accompanying him, but his past encounters with the Novaks hadn’t been exactly positive. 

Maybe Castiel was making a mistake by dragging his old friend back into his messy life. How he wished he could’ve invited Dean to a casual evening with his friends instead. Then again it was really the only option he had, short of begging Meg to fly over. He couldn’t stop clutching the bowl like his life depended on it. Some of his anxiety must have been spilling out since Dean shot him a reassuring smile as they walked up the gravel path to the front door. 

Damn it, he didn’t want to involve Dean, but it sure felt good having him here.

To his further credit Dean didn’t as much as flinch at the large mansion in front of them. Sure, he knew about his family’s wealth but the extent even eluded Castiel sometimes. While he himself had decided to invest in a small apartment, his siblings didn’t share the same reservations about boasting their wealth. Anna’s house was entirely white and there were neatly cut bushes lining their path.

The large, polished door opened upon the first ring of the doorbell.

“Castiel,” the man on the other side of the door noted, “you and your friend could make it.” His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but his reservation bordered on it, seeing as the butler had known Castiel since he’d been a child.

Putting on his best façade of nonchalance, Castiel shrugged. “I figured I could show my face, Marcus – it’s been a while.” Next to him Dean shifted uneasily, as if he was about to introduce himself. Before he could open his mouth, Castiel hastily continued, “We’ll find our way ourselves.” 

Marcus had worked at his parents’ house before following Anna to hers, so he definitely remembered Dean, he just didn’t want to give him the courtesy of acknowledging it. Which meant Castiel would surely not give him the courtesy of introducing his friend – let the whole family think he had turned stuck-up. In turn Marcus didn’t offer to take their coats and that was probably for the best – at least they wouldn’t have to look for them if they had to make a speedy exit.

They made their way through the entrance hall over to the living space out back, walking past the awful oil portraits of the Novak siblings as children, his sister had insisted on putting up, when she’d first moved in. Castiel had never understood his family’s pretentiousness. His look of disdain mirrored the painted Castiel to a tee. There were busts and expensive vases lined up on the mantle too, basically every obnoxious object you’d expect to find in a rich person’s house. Dean’s slightly raised eyebrows told him he was baffled by their interior design, too.

When they got to the living room, Castiel let out a tight breath. There were way too many people for his taste. When Anna had told him, there’d be a few friends, he should have guessed there would be more than his definition of a few, but it still overwhelmed him to see the many groups of people chatting all around the room. He could only presume there were a lot of people that had heard of him before and that were dying to meet the Novak problem child first-hand. 

There was a reason he avoided Novak gatherings like the plague.

Nathanael, Anna’s husband was making his way around the room handing out flutes of champagne and obviously he didn’t have a problem playing the game. Only when you had spent years of your life around rich people and their admirers would you spot that his laugh was a little too loud and his gestures a little too wide. 

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him instead of the crowd before them, but he didn’t dare meet the other’s eyes. He’d shown enough insecurities for a day already.

It took Anna a minute or so to spot them hovering in the doorway to the living space, but then a huge, plastered smile spread across her face. In her tight cocktail dress and her bright make up, she looked just as put together than when Castiel had last seen her. Throwing back her red hair, she pushed her way over to them.

“Castiel,” she called out, “what a nice surprise!” She grabbed his face in both his hands and kissed his cheek. “And Dean,” she cooed, giving him the same embarrassing treatment. "My brother has told me lots about you!” If she remembered everything from fifteen years ago in the same way Castiel remembered it, she hid it well.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Dean replied smoothly and smiled one of his charming smiles. Instantly a tension in Castiel’s shoulders eased, which was ridiculous since he’d known Dean would be good at this, but what if he had been wrong?

“Thank you, darling!” Anna quipped, clearly pleased at the attention. “Now let’s get you boys some champagne!” She signed over towards Nathanael.

“Oh, not for me, I’m driving, thank you,” Dean replied, his tone still absolutely pleasant.

“Aren’t you responsible!” She took only two glasses from the tray. “Water for this gentleman,” she ordered her husband and then shooed him away again.

What followed was an exhausting introduction to several of her friends. Or were they neighbours? At some point, his sister left them for some new arrivals, leaving them to fend for themselves. Castiel only spoke when directly asked and tried to nod along otherwise, while Dean made small talk and smiled in all the right places. Somehow that made the whole situation bearable. That and the three glasses of champagne that make Castiel feel slightly fuzzy. 

It never ceased to amaze him how he could still feel the smile on his face like a mask, while people like Dean could hide their disdain like it was second nature. Ironically, his parents would have been much happier to have someone like Dean for their son, even though they looked down on him, simply because they’d deemed him lowly. Their own, high-bred son couldn’t fake interest to save his life.

There was a hand on his arm to save him. “Would you help me out in the kitchen for a moment, please?” Anna asked, even though in typical Novak fashion it was not really a question and he was already being steered away from the group.

“Will you be fine?” he mouthed at Dean and received a nod and a quiet smile as an answer. 

Of course, he’d be fine. Dean would feel right at home chatting to Anna’s acquaintances about quiche, while stuffing his mouth with the buffet food.

When he returned from the kitchen, Castiel scanned the groups of people that had formed in the living room for Dean but couldn’t spot him anywhere. He carefully pushed his way through the people exchanging small ‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you?’s without letting himself be caught up in their small talk. They probably knew more of him than he was comfortable already. 

He’d spent at least twenty minutes in the kitchen while Anna had tried to introduce him to several women he hadn’t cared to remember by name. Given the obscene number of the Milton’s personnel, he should’ve guessed there wasn’t anything Anna actually needed help with. However, it still amazed him that his sister apparently thought all it would take was the right lady to make Castiel charming, when she had witnessed numerous attempts of awkward small talk over the years and had been there for the Daphne fiasco.

Anna’s living room alone was large, so it took him quite a while to make his way from one end to the other. Dean wasn’t there, nor was he in the hallway or the dining room, Castiel began to wonder whether he had gotten lost on his way back from the bathroom, when he caught sight of his reflection in the glass windows. He hadn’t checked outside yet.

He finally found Dean sitting on the porch stairs looking out at the gradually darkening garden. His leather jacket was draped over his shoulders and it made the man look smaller than he was. Only when Castiel came closer and the other man turned at the sound of his footsteps, did he notice the cigarette carefully held in Dean’s fingers.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” he stated, stopping just behind him.

“I don’t,” Dean rasped, but it was obvious by the sound of his voice that at the very least he had been smoking before Castiel had come out of the glass doors. It was even more obvious by the way he lowered his eyes.

“I can see that,” Castiel deadpanned.

He almost regretted his words when Dean stubbed out the cigarette on the porch wood (Anna would not like that at all) and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked incredibly tired. It wasn’t hard to see there was simply no energy left in him to socialise. It made Castiel wonder why he had agreed to come in the first place, when he didn’t feel up to it. 

Castiel would have liked to cross the distance between them to tangle his fingers in Dean’s hair and gently rake through it as a measure of comfort. There was an ache in his chest at the thought, but he pushed it down. Instead, he settled on sitting down next to Dean on the steps, a respectable distance away. 

It had always been easy to be quiet with Dean. They sat together and looked out the garden, the cold of the wood slowly seeping through his trousers. It wouldn’t do Castiel any good to pry, either Dean was willing to talk on his own accord or he wasn’t going to. Besides, it still surprised Castiel semi-regularly how it seemed as though they knew each other so well and at the same time, Dean had led this whole other life, while he had been away, that he knew nothing about. 

Maybe the version of Dean he didn’t know smoked.

On the far end of the garden, mist had started to creep in as the sun slowly set. Involuntarily Castiel shivered.

“Here,” Dean said into the silence, “you can have my jacket.” He shrugged it off and held it out before Castiel. When he didn’t take it, Dean sighed. “Stubborn bastard”; he grumbled without malice and draped the jacket over Castiel’s shoulders instead. Truth be told, Castiel was too cold to protest. The jacket’s warmth engulfed him and he couldn’t hide the small sigh.

That in turn made Dean smile. “See, all better.” It wasn’t hard to imagine the same man tucking in his kids at night and sporting that same smile. Castiel didn’t know how to feel about that.

Dean cleared his throat again. “It’s a nervous habit.” At Castiel’s raised eyebrow he clarified, “The smoking. I do it to clear my head.”

“And did it work?”

“No,” Dean laughed. “Hence why I smoked a few before you found me.” He was fiddling with his fingers now and that was a nervous habit, Castiel recognised. It was with difficulty that he kept his hands from reaching out and stilling the other’s movements.

After a further pause Dean spoke up again, “We used to go to quite a few things like this, when Lisa was still alive. Good food, but god… those suburban mums can talk about boring things.”

The words were out before Castiel could stop them, “Wasn’t Lisa a suburban mum, too?” 

Every time he said her name, he felt like he was overstepping. As if he had no right to speak about her.

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

It looked like Dean was back to dealing with the memories on his own again. Great job, Castiel. 

It didn’t usually bother him, that he didn’t know just the right thing to say to people, but with Dean,it somehow did. Whenever he opened his mouth, he seemed to mess it up. Lisa’s memory was sacred to Dean and yet, he managed to blunder it whenever they spoke of her. Castiel wanted to apologize, but he didn’t quite know what for.

“Grief comes at unexpected times,” he stated instead. It sounded contrived even to himself, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Dean blinked at him. “Yes, I guess.”

Castiel would like nothing more than to squeeze his hand, but he smiled at him instead and hoped that was enough. “We should get back inside; the others are probably wondering where we are.” 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure Dean would follow him, as he kept looking out at the garden but then he hoisted himself up and gave Castiel a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Back to Pleasantville!” he quipped and stepped back towards the living room and the suburban mums.

 

 

On the drive back there was music playing softly through the speakers and the only other sound was Dean’s fingers drumming the beat on the steering wheel. Every now and then there was a light clunk as one of Dean’s rings hit the plastic on it, but that didn’t stop him in his rhythm.

It seemed to Castiel that their entire relationship was made up of silences strung together by rare glimpses of vulnerability. It wasn’t as though he specifically liked to talk about things, especially not with Dean, but this whole evening had been a pretty huge deal. 

Dean had spent an entire evening with some of the family that had pretty much torn him apart when they were younger and here they were, not acknowledging any of it and listening to Metallica. Castiel realised it was bizarre, how much he wanted to clear up everything between them but couldn’t at the same time.

Dean remained stubbornly silent throughout the trip and Castiel wasn’t sure which was worse - sitting in his own indecisiveness or having to face their past. 

The evening had been alright on the Novak disaster scale – everybody had gotten through relatively unscathed. So why did just ignoring it not seem like enough anymore, all of a sudden? They hadn’t established any rules and yet, judging by their conversation in the pool, he knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk about it. 

Why did this have to be so hard? He would have liked to blurt out how fucked up it felt to be at a dinner party with some perfectly well-adjusted people when all of this wasn’t in the cards for someone like him but he could never admit why. At least Dean had been invited to neighbourhood parties in the past.

So when they arrived at his condo, with his stomach full of anger he pressed out a “Thanks so much for the ride” 

Grabbing his bowl from the backseat without so much as acknowledging Dean’s very confused expression, he got out of the car and slammed the door. It didn’t feel like he was acting fairly, but he didn’t want to be fair at that moment. 

Life wasn’t ever fair to him.

Luckily for him Dean had always needed a bit of time to process things, so Castiel didn’t even have to listen to a reply.

 

Chapter 7: Seven.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

First, he’d felt hot boiling anger. 

Anna Milton certainly wasn’t the worst of the family, but he had put up with her and all of her dumb friends, because Cas had asked him to. If it had been up to him, he would have spent his kids-free night sitting on the couch with a beer and maybe a movie re-watch of an old favourite. Instead, he had opted to help out a friend and his repayment was said friend stomping away from his car in a fit of sudden rage. He had been preparing himself for when Claire went into full teenage mode, but he certainly didn’t think he’d be dealing with that sort of behaviour in an adult man. 

All of this anger went into banging the cabinets in the kitchen in his search for the bag of crisps he had hidden from his kids at the beginning of the week, but which had somehow disappeared in the day in between. It went into angrily grabbing a beer and drowning half of it in one pull.

Then came the doubt. Maybe if he had told Cas why he had really been chain smoking on the porch, they could have had a proper conversation about it. He tried to remind himself that giving an excuse that traced only the bare outline of the truth wasn’t very mature either. Maybe if he had told Cas about Joan, Anna’s very insistent neighbour, it wouldn’t have turned into this. How she had first tried to flirt with him, then had knowingly regarded the ring on his left hand and had rasped, “She must be a very lucky lady.” How he had been forced to grit his teeth and say she had been. 

He’d been halfway through the sentence, when he’d found himself surrounded by cooing middle-aged women trying to veil their interest as concern for the lonely widower and it had all been too much. Suddenly the room had turned hot and the air had been too stiff to breathe properly and he’d found himself mumbling excuses and then hastily fetching his jacket, which he knew had his emergency pack of cigarettes in his left pocket.

Maybe if he had said that instead of the smaller truth, that it was painful to talk to all the people there with their spouse, he would have confessed how much he hated that everybody tried to talk to him about his wife as soon as they saw his ring. He might have even added that no matter how much it hurt to have to tell people that she had died, he still didn’t think he could take it off. That it would feel as if he’d take off a part of himself and that he couldn’t afford losing something else.

Maybe it was a good thing it hadn’t come to that. Even thinking about it felt pathetic, he didn’t think he’d be able to articulate it in a way someone else would understand, anyway. It was no use though, the doubt had settled in with him on the couch in his empty house, that suddenly seemed much bigger than it was. 

He had half a mind to drive over to Ellen’s and pick up the kids right now, just so he didn’t have to be this alone, but dismissed it just as quickly. They would be asleep right now and they deserved a break, too. The last thing they needed was to see their dad as the emotional mess, he was right now.

He could call Sam. His brother would have gone to bed too, but old habits die hard and he would always pick up the phone no matter the hour. He had the same breathless worry in his voice as Dean when he answered an unexpected call and it sent a pang to his older brother’s heart every time he heard it. Neither of them ever voiced it, but it seemed to be understood that there was always the possibility of bad news. Hearing that worry now, wouldn’t make Dean feel any better, no matter how much the growling at his younger brother over something stupid might. It wasn’t worth it. Instead bad movies would have to keep him company until his mind stopped racing long enough for him to fall asleep.

 

 

He woke up with a start and an aching back the next morning. Sleeping on the couch in your forties simply wasn’t the same as in college. It had been a while since he’d last done it and he’d been sore for days afterwards. His back had always been tense, but Lisa had always rubbed out the kinks at night in their bed. Nowadays, he just had to deal with his aches.

It was possible that it was the pain that reminded him of why he’d slept on the couch in the first place, that made him stubborn, but that didn’t make him any less determined to sit this one out. Apologizing wasn’t his responsibility this time around. He had a job and two children that were waiting for him at Ellen’s, that needed his attention, there was no room for him to baby Cas.

He showered, downing a coffee before hopping into the impala to join Claire and Ben for breakfast at the roadhouse. In his twenties the idea that he’d be sitting in the same place eating eggs with his children, where he was knocking back one whisky after the other then, would have weirded him out, but it was comforting to always be able to return. 

Ellen smiled at him from the bar, when he came in and nodded over to the booth they always sat at. As soon as he entered their sight Ben popped out of his seat and tried to explain a new secret handshake to him and Dean felt himself relax. If that didn’t clear his head, the kids bickering over their food certainly did. Only five minutes in and he was too busy making sure they didn’t kill each other to even think about a certain friend of his, anymore.

Over the next few days however, he couldn’t help it. The thoughts were lurking in every quiet moment he had and grew only louder when Cas didn’t call or text or anything. Multiple times, he’d had his phone in hand to call him, but then his pride got the better of him. 

Grading essays on the industrial development in Europe in the 19th century was very hard, when all you could focus on was Castiel Novak and his stupid temper tantrum. Several times he’d been too distracted by his thoughts to listen to Ben’s rambling, so last night he had another tantrum on his hands, when his eight-year-old decided to scream his story at him so he would listen. All of those warning signs were not enough to send the apologetic texts he typed out though.

The straw that broke the camel’s back however happened, when they were sitting at their small kitchen table having dinner. He’d made spaghetti bolognaise, because without a doubt that was the recipe that would never fail him even on the most stressful days. Plus, kids loved it which was a bonus.

Ben was done describing the game they had made up at school during their lunch time at length and was catching his breath to start on the next topic, when Dean noticed he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts – and to be fair, Ben’s – that he hadn’t paid much attention to Claire. Even though she was generally more reserved, she looked downright sullen now and was pushing her food from one side of the plate to the other.

With a frown, Dean asked, “What about you, Claire? Did anything fun happen at school today?”

The look he received in return, could have killed. “No.”

“So, did something not fun happen?”

“What do you care?” Claire tilted her chin up a little higher.

“I’m your dad, of course I want to know what’s going on.” Or at least, that was the kind of dad he wanted to be.

“Well, maybe you read the job description wrong.” It wasn’t in what she said, but the way she said it: brow furrowed and voice dripping with sarcasm. The mannerism reminded it so much of Cas, it made him want to laugh. That would certainly not be appreciated by his daughter however, so he tried to look nonplussed. Sarcasm usually signalled, not to pry, but to wait for Claire to tell him when she was ready. 

“Alright, you know where I am, if you need me,” he declared and at least he didn’t receive another death glare but a shrug.

After that he couldn’t shake the thought of Cas though. Suddenly it seemed weird that his friend and Claire had never met and yet they shared this weird sense of humour. It made him realise how much he missed the idiot already, when it had only been a few days. They didn’t have to talk about anything, they weren’t any good at that anyway. But he could make sure Cas didn’t disappear from his life again over something so petty, when he had really enjoyed spending time with him again. 

Dean had a feeling friends like Castiel Novak didn’t come around all too often.

“Alright,” he stated, shoving some more spaghetti onto his fork. “What do you guys think about having a games night Saturday?”

Ben’s eyes lit up immediately at that. “Can we play Jedi Master ?”

“Watch out there, buddy, you’ll get sauce everywhere,” Dean cautioned, because there was in fact sauce going everywhere already with Ben’s excited gestures. On the inside he felt just as giddy at the prospect. “And yes, we can play that! Although be prepared to lose, since I’m inviting a friend that is very good at it.”

At that Claire looked pleased as well. “Who’s coming? Can’t be Jo, we beat her easily, and Charlie doesn’t play Jedi Master with you anymore, because she says, you’re cheating.” 

Cas would have ample competition in his daughter – competitiveness did run in the family. She leant back in her chair, the picture of disinterest, but Dean could tell she was back on board. At the very least, a game night would take her mind off whatever was bothering her, if she didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m not telling you,” Dean said smugly, while leaning back in his chair, and while Ben looked scandalised how he could keep such a secret from them, Claire simply cocked an eyebrow at him and deadpanned, “I didn’t know you had any other friends.”

Acting as the perfectly reasonable adult he was, Dean rolled his eyes. Surely, there had to be a chance Cas and Claire were related somehow.

 

Notes:

I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than my usual, the next one is a long one though, I promise :) Who's excited for Cas to meet the kids next week?! I took a deep dive into eighties board games for it :D Let me know what your faves were growing up!

Chapter 8: Eight.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The invite had come as a surprise to Castiel. 

So far Dean had made an effort to reconnect, but his kids had certainly been off bounds. While he liked to brag about them on every occasion, they were also obviously very precious to him and Castiel figured himself not to be special enough to get to meet them. Besides after his little fit after Anna’s party, that he didn’t quite want to explain, he hadn’t expected Dean to call much less forgive him enough to introduce him to his children. Usually, stubbornness was a thing they were equally good at.

He’d asked Dean twice, whether he should bring anything, but twice he’d gotten no as an answer. Castiel hadn’t been raised by rich parents for nothing, so he’d gone through his options of being a good guest: there was no way he was going to get away with bringing dessert as he was a terrible cook. Unless he bought something, however it would be awkward if Dean had already planned for something else. Or maybe one of his children was allergic to nuts and Castiel would poison them. Winchesters didn’t drink wine and that wasn’t the kid-friendliest option either. He didn’t think Dean would ever let him live it down if he brought him flowers – wait, did adult friends get each other flowers? His mother would be mortified that he didn’t remember those kinds of conventions from the hours of etiquette training they had suffered through as children.

Saturday night at two minutes to seven he rang the doorbell at Dean’s house, holding a bottle of fancy cherry lemonade even though he felt ridiculous for it. He had found the place easy enough, a two-story house in a quieter part of town. The house wasn’t new and it wasn’t old enough to look charming, but Castiel immediately felt fond when he saw the carved pumpkin on its doorstep and the large painted sign that read ‘Winchester’ next to the door that had colourful handprints all over.

It wasn’t Dean who opened the door but a small boy with brown hair and large brown eyes. Castiel knew he was staring as he was offered a handshake and the boy announced, “Hello, I’m Ben.” However, he looked eerily like his Dad from his smile down to his black band shirt that Castiel’s mother probably would have thought blasphemous.

Awkwardly, he replied, “Hello Ben, I’m Castiel.” His etiquette courses hadn’t really covered how to interact with children, so he was painfully aware that he did not know what else to say.

Ben seemed to have no such inhibitions, “My dad’s still in the kitchen and Claire is… Claire, Dad’s friend is here!” Then he announced conspiratively, “She thought Dad was lying when he said you weren’t Jo!”

“Shut up, Ben,” a blonde girl said who knocked against his shoulder when she came into the hall. She looked a lot more wary than her brother did but introduced herself as Claire nonetheless.

“Castiel,” he repeated. The smile he put on afterwards felt awkward, too.

Luckily Dean chose that exact moment to bustle through the door. “Come on Cas, you are meeting my kids not going for a job interview!” he laughed. Then as if sensing his discomfort, Dean announced, “You guys can go sit in the living room and finish your cartoon, while Cas and I make us some dinner, okay?” He didn’t have to ask them twice, although Claire still watched them carefully.

Unsure of what to do Castiel just followed his friend into the kitchen to the left. He didn’t know what he had expected Dean’s place to look like, but the kitchen looked weirdly homely. The cabinets were a very pale green and there was a wooden table in the middle of the room with six chairs around it. On open shelves all around the kitchen were huge glass jars with various dry ingredients and pictures that Dean’s children had probably drawn on the fridge. Dean even had a large family calendar up against the wall and Cas couldn’t help but think that never in a million years would he have thought this was where Dean would end up at, when they were seventeen.

“Sit,” Dean ordered without bothering to look around. 

Guiltily, Castiel uncrossed his arms and slinked into one of the kitchen chairs. He knew he was hovering and yet, he couldn’t help it. It had been a while since he had made a “new friend” and usually Meg just bossed him around as soon as he crossed the threshold. Should he be helping with anything?

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Dean seemed to read his mind, “You know I do this on my own every day, right?” 

It was meant as a light-hearted joke, Castiel knew it was supposed to be one, but it didn’t feel like a joke to him. All of a sudden, there was something squeezing his chest tight. Dean shouldn’t have to be doing this alone. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he got up again. 

Dean would protest and huff about the way he cooked, but he wouldn’t be doing all the cooking while Cas himself sat around and waited for dinner to be done. He might not be a master chef or do well with children, but he could be a good assistant.

Which was exactly what happened: Castiel was ordered to cut the vegetables and chastised every now and then for cutting them the wrong way, while Dean whirled through the kitchen, collecting ingredients, stirring the pan occasionally and whistling obnoxiously loud. Not for the first time Castiel tried to reconcile this man with the boy he knew. Dean had always been good at taking care of people, but back then his cooking had yet to catch up. Marshmallow mac ‘n cheese anyone?

It felt oddly peaceful, nonetheless. For the first time that week Castiel felt like he could relax completely. The piles of work that were waiting for him on his desk were always at the back of his mind but letting Dean’s enthusiasm in the kitchen wash over him, his mind was blissfully blank for once. It even made him believe he might not be that bad at cooking after all, until Dean went to the bathroom and asked him to watch the stove and he nearly managed to burn their dinner.

“Do you want my kids to go hungry tonight?” Dean huffed dramatically before taking the spatula from him and saving their food. The only thing missing was an apron to make him the perfect mother hen.

What pulled them from their busy silence was a meow by the window. The first time Castiel heard it, he tried to ignore it, surely he misheard. But the sounds grew more insistent.

“Dean, do you have a cat?”

“No,” Dean grumbled, but fidgeted with the spoon in his hands.

“Are you sure?”

Dean huffed. “Of course, I’m sure, I don’t have a cat. I’m allergic in case you remember.”

“He has three,” a voice proclaimed from the doorframe, making them both jump. Claire was poking her head inside the kitchen, holding out a jug. “Ben drank all the orange juice,” she explained.

With a sigh Dean went to pour her more. “We don’t have three cats,” he explained to Castiel. “We just fed some that looked a little thin and now they come here every night.”

His glare didn’t discern Claire from piping up, “So now we have three cats.” Then she smiled knowingly. She beckoned Castiel to come closer and he had no choice but to oblige. He could see Dean’s eyes narrowing as they followed him. When he was close enough, Claire stage-whispered into his ear, “When Dad thinks Ben and I can’t see him, he even pets them and calls them sweetie.”

It was hard not to laugh out loud at the pure delight in her eyes when Dean’s pout only gave him more reason to. Castiel settled on smirking. “Didn’t think your Dad would be a cat person.”

“I’m not,” Dean stated, arms crossed.

“Liar,” Claire shouted before sticking out her tongue and darting away. It was interesting that her suspicion towards Castiel apparently didn’t take any of the fun out of embarrassing her dad to him.

Probably unaware of the fact that a slight smile had made its way to his lips, Dean turned to face Castiel again. “That’s what having kids will do to you,” Dean stated, but he didn’t look as though he regretted it at all.

 

 

Dinner at the Winchester’s house was in stark contrast to the dinner’s Castiel had to suffer through as a child. Novak dinners were an important affair and you'd better have a good excuse if you weren’t sitting at the table at seven pm with your hands washed and a clean shirt. Watching his brother Gabriel try out a considerable number of excuses, Castiel had come to the conclusion that nothing he could possibly say would be valid in Novak Senior’s eyes, so he hadn’t even tried. Not that he hadn’t been late – but there was really no excuse other than Dean convincing him he wouldn’t be late if they just stayed where they were for five more minutes.

Whenever he thought back all Castiel could remember was the feeling of shame cutting down to the bone and the eyes of his siblings watching him as he received his father’s disciplines. As a teenager he’d been jealous of Dean for a lot of things but leniency to make mistakes was perhaps the most painful of them. Of course, his friend remembered a life full of punishments before he came to live with Bobby, so Castiel could see the pity whenever they both knew he was going to be late for dinner and there was no worse combination of feelings than pity and envy.

When Claire put her elbows on the table there were no disapproving looks. When Ben chewed with his mouth open, Claire did call him disgusting but across from her Dean was laughing at both of his children. There was no talk of people at church or evening chores, instead the family bantered light heartedly. Watching them Castiel felt the same envy, he’d always felt at the ease the Winchesters felt with each other. 

He couldn’t imagine he would ever bring it up.

His eyes nearly fell out of his head, when after several minutes of jumping up and down in his seat, Ben finally got permission to go get the board games: the large battered box the boy was carrying was a game Castiel knew all too well. He hadn’t seen Star Wars: Yoda the Jedi Master in years but he would never forget the long hours Dean, Sam, Jo and himself had spent fighting over it.

As the others started to set up the game Castiel glanced over at Dean. The standard rules had become boring after a while, so they had invented new ones and over time it had grown into an elaborate multi-level quest. He had no reason to remember any of them but Castiel could probably still play with his eyes closed. 

“Same rules as always?” he asked cautiously.

The wicked grin that spread on his face made Dean appear years younger. “Sure, the only way to play it!” he nearly shouted.

Somehow that made relief flood through Castiel: some things do stay the same.

 

 

While the whole evening had been a whirlwind, when Dean went upstairs to put the kids to bed, there was finally some quiet, so Castiel had time to look around. He felt a little weird, being in the quiet living room all by himself, but Dean hadn’t asked him to leave and at the moment, his thoughts were too over the place to drive.

There were a million small things to absorb about the living room, all the small things that felt like they were telling him something about the new Dean that he was still trying to put together. The room was homely with a large sofa at its centre, a bookshelf on the wall and wooden crates standing next to the TV with Dean’s records in them. There were large windows looking out into the garden. With regret he noticed it was already too late to see it. Even though he loved his apartment in Boston with its slanted ceilings and wooden floors, every corner filled with things only he had chosen, he missed being able to step out into a garden first thing in the morning.

However, the things he felt most drawn to were the pictures on the wall. Now that he’d gotten to meet Dean’s children, he still felt a morbid fascination in seeing what their family was like. He’d ran into Dean a couple of weeks ago and yet, in some moments the two versions of Dean felt like two completely different people and then, in the blink of an eye they could merge in the smallest mannerism. 

There were pictures with Dean, Claire and Ben smiling widely on the beach, in a forest and on the sofa as well as baby pictures. Castiel recognised Jo, Sam, Bobby and Ellen throughout and a couple of other people seemed to be new friends. Plus there she was – the woman omnipresent in Dean’s life even though she was no longer there: Lisa. 

For all the time Castiel had spent thinking about her and the impact she’d had on his friend, it seemed odd that he didn’t really feel anything towards her image. She was a pretty brunette, smiling widely in the pictures and it was clear even from the limited scope of the images that she’d meant a whole lot to Dean. However to Castiel she was just some woman, which almost felt like a relief.

The rest of his time waiting, he spent looking at the spines of the books Dean owned: H.G. Wells, Vonnegut and Bradbury amongst many others. Castiel had never met another person that would understate their smartness as much. While he himself had forced his way through many of the books in high school, Dean had eaten them up. When Castiel had been stuck on his essays or college applications, it was Dean who provided him with the perfect quotes for anything. Sam Winchester was an overachiever because he wanted to be, Dean was good at anything his heart was in.

Consequently, what drew Castiel in more than the literary classics was a smaller section filled with comic books. Even as a child he’d been obsessed especially with the illustrations and had snuck in comics to read under his duvet, since his parents would have frowned upon such reading material. All the good ones throughout the different eras were there: classic DC ones, Sandman and various indie titles. However, the one most prominently displayed was one that bore a very familiar name: Charlie Bradbury. 

Castiel couldn’t help himself but take it from the shelf and start flipping through it. With its bold colours and stark black lines the style reminded him of Paper Girls, another publication he had recently seen. It seemed to be centered around time travel though and there were full page prints of different sceneries and maps.

He was so engrossed in the book, he didn’t hear Dean approaching until he cleared his throat behind him and stated, “That’s my best friend’s book.” The pride in Dean’s voice was unmistakable.

“I know, I’ve met her, remember?” he replied. Dean’s smile widened when he added, “She’s pretty good.” So good it made his fingers itch to draw again, which would be the first time in forever. He occasionally got the urge when he’d visited a particularly inspiring exhibition, but by the time he got home to his apartment, the spark had worn off and making art felt pointless again.

“Yeah. Won a few awards and there’s prints and everything.” Castiel made a mental note to ask her about those next time he saw her.

After a beat Dean continued, “You were pretty mad last Saturday, huh?”

There it was - the conversation he’d waited for all night. Afraid his throat might close up, Castiel just nodded. After the wonderful night they had he was afraid he might ruin it otherwise.

Dean looked at him expectantly but after a while he sighed, “Well, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We could just watch a movie.”

Castiel knew what the right thing to do would be. It was time for them to have a conversation even if that included telling ugly truths and risking their friendship but he couldn’t do it. It had felt too good to be sitting at Dean’s dinner table that night and feeling like maybe he had a tiny part in it.

He cleared his throat and didn’t dare look at Dean when he said, “Movie sounds good.” And Dean didn’t push it.

 

Notes:

Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter! My beta spacegirlstuff is always great with motivating me but a special thanks to sticking through the chaotic writing process of this chapter with me! Thank you for editing last minute when I can't make up my mind or can't get scenes written until the day of!

Chapter 9: Nine.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The nicest thing about their new friendship was that Cas was always available to spend time with. 

After Lisa’s death Dean had been so focused on the kids’ wellbeing, he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed having small everyday interactions with another adult. When he thought about her, he’d missed the sound of her laugh, the way she always got pancakes just right or her hand that never seemed to leave his when they watched a movie. Only now that he could sometimes convince Cas of coming with him to the grocery store when they were on their way somewhere else or the way there would often be a message waiting for him after he’d put the children to bed, asking how his day had been.

Especially in the beginning, his friends had tried to distract him, which he would be endlessly thankful for, and Dean had no doubt he could call any of them up at any time, but they had their own families to go home to. Even Charlie wasn’t available for their usual movie nights as often, since she was up to her neck in edits. Plus after a while he couldn’t bear to see their pitying looks anymore. He had no illusions that Cas would be the same way, if he wasn’t as alone as he was and didn’t care to spend a minute more at his work than he had to. For the moment however, that didn’t matter.

So for the first time since Lisa’s death he knew that someone would always be free whenever he called. While he should have probably convinced Cas to go back to Boston long ago, the larger, more selfish part of him was just glad to be able to convince his friend of anything. The only thing wrong with their friendship was their chronic inability to talk about their past or any conflict concerning the two of them. Dean would have been ashamed of himself, if he hadn’t been so glad that Cas was back in his life. Things between them were as easy as they’d ever been as long as they stayed clear of all the things Dean didn’t even want to talk about in the first place – so it worked out well for him.

They kept on meeting in one of two ways and Dean couldn’t quite decide which one of the two he enjoyed more.

The first could be considered dates if Dean let himself go down that road, which he absolutely didn’t. As a rule, he didn’t let the same person break his heart twice. Not only would that be dumb, he also wasn’t sure his heart had properly mended after Lisa’s death and now that he was on the upwards trail, he was not going back down without a fight.

On Fridays when Dean finished work early, they sometimes got lunch together. Castiel didn’t hide that his brother Michael did not approve of him leaving work for an extended lunch break, so Dean found a quiet satisfaction in taking Castiel to places all around town, always making sure they got desert as well. 

Lawrence didn’t look like much, but in Kansas people took their food and their hospitality seriously so there were plenty of restaurants to pick from. Lucky for Cas, Dean had tried them all. He took his friend to the Chinese place that he liked to order takeout at that served traditional food cooked by a very old, wrinkled lady and her three adult children. They stuffed themselves with tacos at one of the food stalls just around the corner from Dean’s school, whose owner knew Charlie and him by name. Sometimes he just packed sandwiches for the two of them and then they drove until they were out in the fields, where they could sit on Baby’s hood and look out while they ate.

If Dean could find somebody to take care of his kids on Saturdays, which he usually could because they apparently only behaved like little monsters at home, Cas picked out art exhibits and subtitled films. Even though Dean tried to deny it, some of them he liked. Some of them were utter garbage however. On the upside, Castiel had to pull out his glasses to read the tiny signs in museums and they looked cute on him. Once he had forgotten them by accident and had huffed at every piece until Dean had read the signs to him.

On weekend nights they got drinks at The Roadhouse with and occasionally without his friends there and after a while, even Jo had gotten tired of shooting him knowing looks from across the bar every five minutes. Dean showed Cas how to play pool, even though they carefully stayed clear of any of the other patrons, since Dean wasn’t one to turn down a challenge and Ellen had a strict no hustling policy in her bar. Not that he felt like he should at thirty-five, when he had a stable job and more importantly two children at home. 

It was way more fun watching Cas struggle with the pool stick and mutter to himself under his breath. If occasionally he had to adjust Cas’s hold or his posture by directing him with light touches, that was entirely in line with the game. He wouldn’t have it be said that he wasn’t a good teacher.

If he was really honest with himself though, Dean liked the second kind of meeting even more. At least once during the week, the kids begged him to have Cas over for dinner even if they were only allowed to stay up for a little bit longer than usual. For someone who claimed to do poorly with kids, Cas had sure wrapped Claire and Ben around his finger in no time. 

Cas was endlessly patient, when Ben told him about one of the books he was reading, even when his retellings didn’t make sense at all. He let himself be convinced to join the rest of them in the garden for all their silly variations of ball games, and surprisingly had better hand-eye coordination than all of them. The look of utter surprise on his face at managing to score a homerun on his first try at around-the-garden-rounder, still made Claire crack up. 

She was definitely more reluctant to accept Cas but couldn’t fight the smile at his obliviousness to modern pop-culture, so she seemingly took it on herself to show him all of the modern hits. It was bad enough, his eleven-year-old daughter thought Lady Gaga was the pinnacle of music, but Dean could only groan, when Cas had joined her in lip-syncing to her newest song. At least Ben was still malleable enough to think anything his dad liked was cool, so he had looked at the two of them and then at Dean. “They don’t know what real music is, right Dad?” he had asked conspiratorially, and Dean had ruffled his hair.

On one of those nights after dinner, Cas surprised him. Ben had gotten it in his head that their guest absolutely had to see their family photo albums and would not shut up about it. He genuinely got so excited, he nearly choked on his food twice.

Dean shot him a stern look. “You’re not a pig, so don’t eat like it, young man.” He tried to ignore Claire mouthing at Cas, that her brother definitely was a pig. “And I’m sure Cas isn’t interested in seeing all of the old photos. He won’t even know half of the people in them.” A pensive look crossed Ben’s face as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him that his enthusiasm for things might not be shared by everyone. That boy of his was sure in for some disappointment in his life.

Cas cleared his throat from across the table. “Actually,” he piped up, “I would love to see the pictures and I’d like it especially well if you and Claire could show them to me. Maybe you can explain to me who everybody is.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow at his friend, but Cas smiled and shrugged. He definitely didn’t know what he was in for. Lisa had gotten him a camera, just before Ben was born and Dean had taken his job very seriously of committing as many memories as possible to paper. She had glued stacks upon stacks of them into albums and even though he had made fun of her for being so crafty, secretly Dean had been glad his kids would have something to hold onto from their childhood.

Ben still looked a little uncertain, but Dean shot him a reassuring smile. “You heard him,” he said, then added, “You still have to eat your dinner though, and then you can go while I do the dishes.” 

Never had his kids eaten up that fast.

While Dean was in the kitchen, he couldn’t hear what they were telling Castiel, but from the sink he could see the back of their heads through the passthrough. They were sitting on the couch with one of the albums between them. Ben was pointing at things and Claire seemed to be correcting him every now and then. Cas hardly got a word in, but occasionally he made an appreciative hum or asked a small question, before getting a minute-long answer in return. 

It shouldn’t have surprised Dean how thoughtful and patient his friend was with children, but somehow it still did. The way Cas tilted his head, when Ben wouldn’t stop babbling, or tried to connect with Claire, when he seemingly had nothing in common with her, made Dean’s heart swell with pride. He knew they were great kids, but just the fact that someone outside of their family made such an effort to get to know them, made him feel emotions, he hadn’t really known existed before having his own children. 

The plates clinked lightly in the dishwater and Dean actually hummed to himself. Ever since Lisa had died, something always seemed to be missing, but listening to their three voices and their giggling was oddly calming. 

Dean wished he could bottle the moment, so he would have it for when the grief came back.

 

 

It should feel weird that Cas always waited for him, while he got the kids into bed, but Dean had gotten tired of trying to convince him otherwise. Especially, since he’d grown fond of the time they spent when the house was quiet. While sometimes they shared a beer in silence, it was also when their most honest conversations took place. It must be something about the familiarity of the situation, Dean assumed. It should feel too intimate, but it somehow didn’t.

The day of the photo album excitement, Cas had a pensive look on his eyes when Dean came back downstairs. He was standing in the living room by the window overlooking the garden, but his face was illuminated by the porch lights. When he heard Dean’s footsteps on the wooden floorboards he turned and handed over one of the beers he’d already grabbed from the fridge. Dean was glad for it – it had taken a while to convince Cas that he shouldn’t feel like a guest all of the time. 

Quietly he joined his friend at the window but instead of gazing out into the garden, he watched as Cas fidgeted with the corner of his peeling label without saying a word. Even in the dim porch light, he could see the confusion radiating from his friend. It was in the way he pinched his eyebrows and the tight set of his lips. Dean didn’t want to wait for him to figure out the words, so after a bit he ordered Cas to spit it out.

“Uhm, I didn’t know Claire was adopted,” Cas mumbled, and it sounded every bit as uncomfortable as he looked. At once Dean’s mind raced at a million miles per hour thinking of all the horrible things his friend could say.

“So? Dean asked. He tried to keep his voice calm but even to his own ears the word sounded like it had a slight warning etched into it. Whatever people came up with Lisa and him had heard it all, especially in the first years with their daughter. 

How brave of them to take her in, when it hadn’t been a decision made out of bravery. Polite or not so polite inquiries about her birth parents as if it was information free for all. When Claire had acted out in kindergarten, adoption had been the magic word. Oh, her teachers would say and look embarrassed. Like that suddenly explained everything away. 

Now he couldn’t even look at Castiel, afraid of what he might find in his expression – he didn’t think he’d have to explain himself to his friend. He didn’t think he could stand to be pitied by him.

Cas breathed out. “Nothing, it was just interesting, that’s all.” He chose his words very carefully and Dean was thankful. After a pause he continued and added quietly, “Sometimes she looks just like you.” He looks over then, so intently Dean can feel it burning into his skull. “When she’s stubborn, she gets the same crease on her forehead as you do and when she talked about your family vacation last summer, she sounded just like you, too.”

Dean could feel the tears prickling in his eyes and finally he did manage to lift at the soft tone of the next thing Cas said, “I just think, you have a beautiful family, Dean.” 

The smile Cas gave him was so genuine, it squeezed at his heart and right there, Dean didn’t think he’d ever heard anything that profound. Claire was his as much as Ben was and they were his whole heart and Cas recognised that. He wanted to fill him in with all the facts, how their friend Jody had fostered her before she’d found her way to their family, when the family who wanted to adopt her, pulled out last minute. How he had looked down at her in bed and had felt a wave of protectiveness for the little, sleeping girl before him. His chest had ached at the thought of someone not wanting her. How he had told Lisa that there wasn’t anywhere else in the world Claire could go to because she was meant to be theirs.

There’d be time for that later though. Dean’s own smile felt so much weaker in comparison, but the tears were threatening to spill over. With his voice hoarse he squeezed out “Thanks Cas!” and then took a long sip from his beer. 

It was decidedly more honesty than he could handle at any given moment, so he resorted to looking back out at the garden and suddenly it felt imperative to point out all the things he wanted to change next year. 

Cas let him.

 

Notes:

As always, please let me know if you feel like anything in this chapter is offensive - I'm not an adoptee myself! I wanted to include the found family aspect though and I also liked the idea of acknowledging Jody in this way :)

Chapter 10: Ten.

Notes:

Even though it's summer where I live the weather has been terrible, so at least a Christmas chapter in August doesn't feel that out of place?! Prepare yourselves for New Years next week :D

Chapter Text

When Christmas rolled around Castiel was finally forced to face the facts: he was still not back in Boston and very likely his short-term position wasn’t going to be filled for another few months. 

He honestly wasn’t sure whether Michael was delaying it on purpose only to spite him, but he took a sadistic pleasure in doing his job well. That was the irony of it all: he hated every minute of working for Novak Inc. and yet their stats looked better than ever. In their last management meeting Michael had even begrudgingly commended him for his achievements. That alone had been worth the overtime.

Nonetheless, his prolonged stay also meant that this year he would have no excuse to cut Christmas short because of “job emergencies” – namely Meg drunk dialling him and offering to share her eggnog if he flew back sooner. Unfortunately, now his boss was one of the main reasons this Christmas would be just as miserable as the last ones.

Before the horror of the Novak family Christmas party came one last highlight however: dinner at Dean’s. 

It should have felt like a routine by now given that he went there at least once every week, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly surprised to be invited back each time. During those dinners it felt like the stress of the week fell off him all at once.

This time however there was nothing relaxing about it: the parcels Castiel had stowed in his bag did not let him rest. As always he helped Dean with the last steps of cooking, more to soothe his own guilty conscience than to Dean’s benefit. Once or twice he’d been allowed to order pizza for the family, when Dean had been exceptionally stressed at work, otherwise his friend insisted on cooking. It was one of Castiel’s favourite parts of the night, anyway, watching Dean twirling through the kitchen and humming along to the music.

As the minutes ticked by however, he felt increasingly nervous about the gifts. In the beginning he rationalized that it would be easiest to just hand them over and be done with it. However, throughout dinner and their game after he never felt like the right moment had come. Castiel nearly chickened out altogether, but in the end common sense won over as usual. After all he had gone through the effort and there was no real reason he shouldn't get the Winchesters gifts. He sat at the dinner table with them every week, so this shouldn't feel as weird as it did. 

He had already pulled on his coat and his boots when he finally managed to say: "I uhm... have gotten you presents. I hope that is okay." With that he awkwardly fished out the three parcels and held them out.

Ben's eyes went wide, "Dad, can we open them now?"

Over the kids' heads Dean's eyes found his and Castiel shrugged. He hadn't intended to be there when they opened the presents, making them had been weird enough, but he couldn't really say no now that the boy was bouncing up and down excitedly before him.

"Alright," Dean sighed, "but only so you can thank Cas directly."

Even as he was handing out the presents, Castiel had half a mind to take them back, which was just childish. Both of the kids seemed eager enough when they ripped open the wrapping, even though Claire tried to hide it by not looking up at either of them.

"It's hats," Castiel provided after a beat, simply because he didn't know what to do with himself while they unwrapped.

If possible Ben's eyes went even wider than before when he looked at his. "Look Dad, it's dinosaurs!" he cried excitedly and held out the grey beanie with green dinosaurs out so Dean could inspect it, "Can you put it on?"

"Sure buddy," his dad replied and stooped down to pull it over the mop of brown hair, "What did you get, Claire?"

As the girl looked up, she couldn't quite hide the smile creeping onto her lips. 

"Cats."

Castiel could just stop himself from remarking, that it was what Google had suggested for girls her age. No wonder he felt ridiculous. It didn't seem to be that far off the mark though, since Claire also pulled on her grey hat and when she looked in the hallway mirror, she looked slightly pleased with herself.

When he glanced over at Dean, his friend could hardly hide his bemused smirk as he asked, “Did you make these, Cas?”

The smile only grew as Castiel glared at him over Ben’s head. 

“What? Knitting has been shown to have several neurological benefits,” he informed his friend. Frankly, it could probably benefit Dean’s anxiety, too but the other sure wasn’t ready for that suggestion yet. “If you keep making fun of me, I'll take your present back.” he threatened unsuccessfully, as Dean just kept beaming at him.

"You’ll have to get it off my head then,” his friend grinned and he looked utterly ridiculous in the green hat with wheels on it. “They're great, Cas!" he went on with a smile that threatened to split his face in two, "And I like that you're a nerd who does crafts for the neurological benefits."

An unexpected warmth bloomed in Castiel's chest, as he took in those words and looked at the three of them in their ridiculous brightly coloured hats. He might even have blushed a little when he thought about the hours he’d spent making them. 

"You're welcome," he mumbled, then added, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Cas! And what do we say when people give us presents?"

"Thank you!" Ben and Claire chorused.

Standing in Dean's hallway right then Castiel felt like maybe the memory of that moment would be enough to get him through the holidays. He only had to get through nine more days until they celebrated New Year’s Eve together.

Maybe spending more time in Lawrence wasn't that bad after all.

 

 

When he was at Dean’s it was easy to think that it was all worth having to spend more time with his family. Castiel tried to tell himself it was as he was grinding his teeth all the way through Christmas.

Since Novaks couldn’t do anything the common way, they had always celebrated on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas day like the rest of his friends. There was a formal dinner at his parents’ house, then a gift-exchange and midnight mass to get through before he could finally head back to his apartment. The only upside was that somehow his mother had convinced Gabriel of joining them, so Castiel would be able to see the only family he actually cared about.

He postponed leaving home to the point of risking being late but ultimately chickened out at the last minute and sped to the Novak mansion. He’d handed back his set of keys a long time ago as a gesture of defiance which unfortunately meant he could no longer arrive unannounced. Like any guest he had to state his name and reason for visiting to the doorman as if he didn’t recognise his voice or car. It didn’t help his growing feeling of unrest. He parked his beat up Ford Fiesta next to a fleet of Mercedes and Porsches already in the large parking area. Breathing deeply, Castiel forced himself to get out of the car and face his family.

The door opened as soon as he set foot on the grand porch and Gabriel shoved the doorman out of the way to engulf him in a hug.

Over Gabriel’s shoulder he could see his mother staring disapprovingly at him from across the room for cutting it so close, but what she said in her clipped voice was: “Castiel, how wonderful of you to join us.” That was all, then she turned on her heels to walk back inside. None of the others had come out to greet Castiel.

“Nothing like a warm welcome home,” Gabriel whispered next to him and shot him a conspirative grin. 

Not for the first time Castiel felt a jealous pang at how easy his older brother took all of it. Then again he hadn’t been as big of a disappointment as the youngest brother had been.

Castiel let the doorman take his coat before making his way to the dining room with its large wooden panels and the dark wooden table. At its head always present was Charles Novak, his presence infiltrating every corner of the room.

“Father,” he acknowledged with a nod, trying to clamp down the nervousness.

“Castiel,” the other replied just as curtly before gesturing for him to sit in the same place he always had. 

Nothing like a warm welcome home, indeed.

Castiel’s place was at the far end of the table and that hadn’t changed when grandchildren had been added to the table. He must have been up closer to his parents when he had been a toddler himself but all he could remember was being too small to reach the table from his chair and having a nanny feed him while his father watched silently. 

The solid iron cross hanging above the table’s end had looked down on Castiel just as heavily, so he didn’t dare to open his mouth.

During dinner there was mostly company talk with Michael and Charles leading the conversation but occasionally, presumably out of courtesy someone would ask Castiel about his new role and he’d do his best to try and sound enthusiastic. There was no reason to start a discussion when several hours of choreographed events still lay in front of them. Occasionally Gabriel kicked him below the table and once dared to mouth “suck-up” from across the table. Castiel didn’t have it in him to disagree – here he was in his pressed, uncomfortable white shirt, holding his cutlery perfectly and his tongue as well. 

Through his shirt the same damn cross lay against his sternum.

He could only imagine how uncomfortable the dinner must be for his brothers’ wives, although they did come from similarly wealthy families. Ultimately, they all got through dinner relatively unscathed.

For gifts they moved to the sitting area. Although his parents had always had enough money to buy gifts for a whole school bus, there was a one gift rule in the Novak house. “Christmas is a time of humility before Christ,” was what his mother had always said as if other days didn’t have the same motto. 

Somehow even though they were all adults now, each with their own trust fund and well-paying job, the rule had stuck with slight modifications: the children got their parents one gift each and then each of them received a gift from their siblings. Humility seemed to halt at the price tag though.

Cas thought of Dean and his children and was sure they were being spoilt rotten tomorrow. His heart ached a little.

The butler put on some quiet piano music, handed out a round of sherry and then they performed their charades like every year. 

First to receive her gifts was always their mother who dealt out stiff thanks and feigned surprise when she had sent Anna a very specific list of items she’d like from her children. Castiel half wished he’d ignored her wishes when he handed over the face cream he’d ordered for her. Maybe he should have knit her a hat as well, just to see her expression upon opening it.

Next was his father, then Anna, then his brothers in order of their age.

Castiel sat stiffly through the whole thing occasionally wordlessly handing over his gifts. He watched the solemn faces of his brother Michael’s children and his heart ached for them, too. Ever since Castiel had been a boy, he’d vowed to give a different life to his children than the one he’d had and here history was repeating itself with his oldest brother. He sincerely hoped Michael wouldn’t… 

He stopped himself before the thought ran too far. If it ever got that far, he had to tell himself he’d notice and intervene. It wasn’t fair nonetheless: they should be running around outside, laughing and screaming, instead of sitting on the sofa quietly in their starched shirts and pleated dresses. 

Castiel suddenly sincerely wished he had knitted them hats at least. Instead he had bought them boring, “appropriate” books.

Castiel’s turn was last. He received a leather briefcase which would have been nice, had it not been embossed with their family crest. The gift was only a thinly veiled dig at his reluctance to identify with their family but he tried his best to look thankful nonetheless. 

The taste of bile in his mouth didn’t go away.

Then like every year his father got out a celebratory cigar for the gentlemen to smoke. Castiel tried to not let the biting disappointment in his father’s eyes when he declined eat him up. It was a small price to pay for keeping a small rest of self-respect when he had done nothing other than obey all night. 

Unfortunately, the fear of a later reprimanding didn’t ever fade. He half wished for the dreaded sermon to come earlier, so they could all sit in silence.

He talked to Kelly, his brother Luke’s very pregnant wife, briefly but all he could picture was their son joining his solemn cousins on the couch staring at him. After he went to the bathroom to wash his face and stared at his own reflection for several minutes until his knuckles turned white gripping the bathroom sink.

Finally after several uncomfortable questions they all got into the cars, and Gabriel and he got to ride in the back of Luke’s car at least. When they got out Castiel already steeled himself for church but Gabriel held him back. 

“I’ve brought another Christmas present,” he grinned and motioned to the others to go ahead. Castiel could practically hear what his mother was thinking. You need mass most.

Gabriel’s present was a joint that he presented triumphantly behind the church in the dark. Castiel nearly choked on his spit.

“Gabe, we can’t!” Dean had given Gabriel that nickname.

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled in the dark. “Come on, you really want to sit through hell sober?”

As if Castiel could argue with that. 

It had been years since he’d last smoked – which clearly couldn’t be said for Gabriel – but he cherished every drag. The warm smoke filled his lungs while he tried not to cough.

Maybe it was the first effect of the weed, maybe it was the dread Castiel felt facing an hour of sitting in the same hard wood benches, he had prayed on for years, but suddenly he felt a strong longing for Dean. How he wished he could have spent the night with him instead. Instead he would once again be asking for forgiveness for his sins tonight, which he already knew couldn’t be forgiven and it was all Dean’s fault.

He pulled out his phone quickly as they slipped into church. 

Wish I could spend time with you and the kids tonight. Hope you are having a good time! , he texted before surrendering to what he knew would be a long hour of mass.

 

 

It wasn’t their first Christmas without Lisa and yet it felt very much like it was.

For all of Dean’s resentment of having his carefree life cut short by having a baby with a woman he’d only seen for one weekend, having a family to spend the holidays with was never a part of it. 

Christmas especially had used to be filled with guilt for him, when he couldn’t provide the same experience to Sam as they saw on TV and when his little brother grew up into a man, who preferred to skip all festivities that had only made him feel worse.

With Ben and shortly after Claire, holidays were meant to be celebrated. Lisa shook her head at him going overboard with decorations and costumes and food on every occasion, but to her credit, she never told him off no matter how tight their budget was. Ironically, as soon as Sam became a dad, he’d sheepishly admitted to splurging on stockings as well, so Dean seemed to have done something right after all.

The last Christmas they’d celebrated had been a sullen one: Lisa had been gone for only a few months and more out of pity than anything else, Dean had agreed to go to Lisa’s parents for a few days. He didn’t remember much other than a homesickness that clawed its way through the fog of eggnog and lots of crying from everyone involved. If it had been up to him he would have driven eight hours straight to get back home but unfortunately with kids that was no longer an option.

This year they were going to Ellen’s, thank god.

Since Sam and his family were staying there for the week, they also headed there on the 24th to help with preparations and mostly to party after the kids went to bed. Ellen had chastised him when he told her of the plan and had made him swear they would not be hungover for Christmas morning but Bobby had winked at him from behind her.

When they’d left home and he’d finally gotten Claire and Ben and all of their stuff into the car, he had paused for a second and had turned around to face them. Dean had never been good at talking about his feelings but when you were the only parent left… Well, you had to step up. That was one thing his father had taught him right at least.

“Look, I know this Christmas might be hard,” he trailed off but thankfully got a grip a second later, “I know you miss Mom and I do, too, but this is going to be fun, okay? And if one of you wants to leave, we can.” Dean was not brave enough to keep on watching them for their reaction so he turned back to face the front and quickly turned on the ignition. 

Just before he turned up the radio though, he heard a whispered “Thanks, Dad.” from the backseat and when he checked the rearview mirror later, Claire shot him a lopsided grin that was half happy and half sad. 

He hoped his daughter could sense that he felt the same way.

The first hour was predictably chaotic with all of the kids running around and shouting in their excitement to see each other and not for the first time, Dean made a mental promise to try and make it out to California soon. The adults gathered in the kitchen, chatting while helping Ellen prepare dinner. As a child Dean couldn’t understand why she would willingly take in an older man in a wheelchair and two wild teenage boys but now he thought he got it: a bustling house was a living one. He could only hope that his would feel the same when he was older.

When they were all together they had to prop two tables together so they could fit. There was lots of loud discussions and messy eating and apparently Ben had been taught the craft of signing insults when the other was not looking, so Dean had to send him several stern looks. Privately he thought, Sam and himself would have been the same had they known the slightest bit of ASL back then.

It was easy not to think of Lisa when he was busy and caught up with his family but occasionally he felt like she would smirk at him from across the table and then she didn’t. Some things felt jarringly similar to all of the years they had the exact same celebration only she had been there, too, and it caught him off-guard each time. The pain felt less at times and yet in specific moments it was timeless and as strong as ever. 

Had life been fair Lisa would have still been there with him and they would have been able to live through these moments together until they were old and grey. On days like Christmas Eve these pangs were just more frequent than on others.

After dinner they sat in the living room together for a while until Sam decided it was getting too late for his youngest and suspiciously all of the other kids went upstairs with him to get ready for bed. Of course Dean was no fool and knew their party would continue for some time in Jo’s old room that had been turned into a mattress camp for them. All of the adults collectively decided to ignore it – it was Christmas after all.

They filled the stockings and hung the last of the decorations and when it was Bobby and Ellen’s turn to go, the former stopped his wheelchair and beckoned for Dean to come closer. In a quiet voice, so the others didn’t hear him, he mumbled: “I know it’s hard without Lisa, son, but go easy on yourself tonight.”

The most truthful thing Dean could reply was: “I’ll try.”

Bobby seemed to accept that but still smiled ruefully as he followed Ellen.

And Dean did try. When he was younger he would have drunk until he could no longer stand upright, now he contented himself with only enough to soften the edges. He pretended he didn’t notice the quick glances the others shot him and in return they pretended not to notice him being quieter than usual.

Halfway through a messy game of “Fuck the dealer” Dean received a text and made the mistake of looking at the screen immediately. 

Wish I could spend time with you and the kids tonight. Hope you are having a good time!

“Eyes on the game,” Jo bellowed at the same time as Dean saw Eileen signing eagerly to Sam.

Not missing a beat, his younger brother smacked Jo lightly, before announcing: “Give him a minute to be flustered, Joanna Beth!” Damn Dean’s sister-in-law and her incredible people-reading-skills.

“Shut up,” he growled to the chorus of their coos but put away his phone. He didn’t know what to reply anyway. His immediate reaction had been the intense wish that Cas was in fact with them but that was something he wasn’t willing to think about on top of all the emotional turmoil he’d already endured that night. Cas would be on his way to Midnight mass now, so he would get a mouthful from his family if he checked his phone before it ended. Maybe his brain would be more eloquent with a few more shots.

By one o’clock in the morning they were fairly drunk, but not so much that Dean couldn’t fulfil his promise to Ellen – he hoped. Eileen had gone to bed a few minutes before and now it was just Sam, Jo and Dean sprawled out on the couch. 

Dean suspected she was trying to give them some sibling time, which was sweet but unnecessary since she’d grown on him. “Make  sure the giant comes to bed,” she’d signed to him behind Sam’s back and Dean had smiled conspiratively at her. How his little brother had gotten so lucky,  he’d never know.

“So did you get Cas anything?” Sam asked out of the blue. 

Dean had only recently confessed to rekindling his friendship with Cas and besides nagging him to see Cas as well, Sam was treating it nonchalantly like it wasn’t the biggest plot twist to ever happen in his life. Well, besides his wife dying young of cancer. Dean took another big swig of whiskey.

“No,” he said and winced at the admission.

“But Cas got them something,” Jo announced and only fuelled the guilt Dean already felt. He really wasn’t nailing this friendship thing the second time around either. Now he couldn’t even reply to an innocent text.

“What did he get you?”

Dean was sure he was blushing, when he stammered: “He um… he knit us hats.” As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough the other two mock-sighed again.

“I want to see them,” Sam ordered and he obediently went and got them from the hall.

Turning them over in his hands before handing them back, Sam pouted at him, which frankly looked ridiculous now that he was no longer ten. “Tell Cas I want one.”

Like hell Dean would share Cas’s skills with his brother. “Find your own Cas to make you one!”

His brother crossed his arms and now he did look very much like the petulant child Dean had helped raise. “Well, then we’ll just have to take yours!”

“Hey, watch it, those belong to my kids!”

“Come on, papa bear, we’ll only steal them for one second,” Jo teased and Dean recognised the evil glint in her eye a split second too late when she had already snatched them up and put the dinosaur one on her head. Tossing Claire’s at Sam, she grinned widely.

At the sight of the two of them in their tiny hats Dean couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Take a picture,” Jo ordered as if he hadn’t planned to already. They huddled together and Dean’s face hurt a little when he smiled.

Later, when he lay alone in his bed, Jo snoring on the mattress beside him, he got out his phone again to look at it. All three of them were laughing and Jo had Sam in a headlock that looked comical since he was so much larger than her. The hats were too small and there had definitely been something missing all night but in this picture at least Dean looked truly happy. Before he could think too much about it he got out his phone and sent it to Cas. 

Looks like Ben and Claire aren’t the only ones loving your hats. Wish you could have been here, too!

 

Chapter 11: Eleven.

Chapter Text

They spent New Year’s Eve at Jo’s with all of Dean and her friends. Ellen and Bobby were gone for the weekend so they’d graciously offered their house to her.

One would think that it had been Dean who’d thrown the messiest parties in high school but he had only gone all out when he was well out of his parent’s line of sight. He had once told Castiel that he was too lazy to clean up, but the latter had guessed that there was another reason for it: Dean simply didn’t think he could allow himself to anger either Ellen or Bobby like that. Jo had no such qualms. 

Since she was a year younger than Dean, Castiel hadn’t gone to her parties often, but there was one particularly memorable night in their senior year, that had ended in chaos when Jo had spontaneously turned it into a tournament with several drinking games. His own night had ended lying on the grass outside with Dean and unable to stop laughing because of something he couldn’t even remember.

When Dean had invited him to the New Year’s party, he’d been reluctant at first. He’d already intruded on so many of their events over the past few weeks, but when his friend asked what other plans he had, they both knew he didn’t have any. He couldn’t get any time off to go to Boston and he sure wasn’t planning on spending the evening with any of his family. 

“You’re coming.” Dean had decided and that was that.

At first he hadn’t know if he was supposed to  expect a more grown-up party but all doubts about it evaporated when Dean texted him a picture of the trunk of Jo’s car filled to the brim with crates of beer and liquor bottles and the two of them posing before it with the most manic looks on their faces. Castiel was going to get properly drunk for the first time in a long time and strangely enough that was enough excitement to get him through the week.

With satisfaction, Castiel noted that his casual wardrobe had grown by quite a few clothes over the past few weeks and he was actually happy with the way he looked for once. It was easy to feel not cool enough around Dean’s friends, but in his leather jacket, a well-cut black t-shirt and skinny jeans he’d found in the back of his childhood closet, he actually felt like he wasn’t faring too bad. It was not the arty vibe he had been going for when he himself was a teen but he would fit right in at Jo’s.

Just before leaving he called up Meg and she even whistled at his appearance. They talked about their plans for the night and Meg told him about all the unattainable resolutions she’d made. It still made Castiel feel strangely connected listening to Meg’s rambling about their friends in Boston, but at the same time it had been weeks since he’d seen them. 

Over time he had gotten used to the feeling of feeling close but far at the same time, but it still hurt, that all he got now was video calls when she used to be just a few blocks away.

While he was really looking forward to his night, if there had been a chance to hop on a plane to Boston, he would have taken it without hesitation. Before he hung up, he promised to visit soon and he sincerely hoped he would.

He got to the Harvelle’s house early to help set up. Barely a few seconds after he rang the doorbell, Jo opened the door with a beer already in hand and proclaimed happily: “Ah, just the man we need!”

Perplexed, Castiel followed her inside only to discover the task ‘basically cut out for him’ was helping Garth with the decorations. He didn’t know whether to be flattered that Jo remembered his artistic side or to be offended that she didn’t think he could carry the furniture to the garage with Benny and Dean.

Half an hour later, the guests were trickling in, some Castiel recognised, some he didn’t, and the house started to look worthy of a celebration. Soon enough Dean came over with beers in hand and they stood in the living room just pleasantly chatting to people. Castiel was glad he had the bottle to cling to.

He nearly jumped when Dean leant close and murmured, “I’ve got a surprise for you later.”

Castiel looked at him wide-eyed. What could his friend possibly have organised? It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of surprises, they just made him nervous. What if he didn’t like it? He wasn’t any good at pretending and he really didn’t want to hurt Dean. So he couldn’t stop himself from asking what it was.

Dean however only smirked. “Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. You’ll have to wait and see.”

His impatience must have been written all over Castiel’s face though because he added, “Not too long now.”

As always once his brain had latched onto the mystery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The minutes trickled by slowly though and he felt himself get more and more impatient. Just to occupy his thoughts a little, he sought out Jo to help her stack more beers into the fridge when the doorbell rang.

“I think that’s for you, Cas,” Jo smirked and pushed him out into the hall. Given that  the only friend Castiel had made in Lawrence was already in the next room, it was highly doubtful that it was. 

Was she really too lazy to open the door?

Sighing, he opened it only to be engulfed in a bear hug. Who on earth…? He felt his shoulders relax a split second later when he recognised the familiar scent of peach shampoo filling his nose.

Meg. 

His arms tightened around her tiny frame.

When they finally pulled back, Meg was beaming at him. “Surprise!” she shouted with the biggest smile.

Castiel was still too dumbfounded to properly react so he just nodded.

Somebody pushed by him. 

“Hi, I’m Dean.” the person introduced himself and Castiel could only listen even though it would have probably been his job to introduce them.

Meg stared at him then laughed again, “Fuck me, you are the Dean .”

Had it been up to him the ground would have swallowed Castiel right in that moment. However, if Dean was caught aback he didn’t show it. “Yes, we talked on the phone.”

With a low voice Meg added, “Yeah, but I have heard lots about you!” Then she winked at Dean.

From the back Charlie laughed. “I already like this girl!” Which was Castiel’s cue to finally snap out of it, turn around and start introducing Meg to people.

Like Dean, his best friend was easy-going and it made Castiel wonder why they put up with someone like him. She made jokes with everybody right off the bat, matched Jo with every beer and told loud embarrassing stories of his time in Boston. 

Dean was delighted.

Castiel couldn’t believe the two of them had finally met.

The buffet of snacks was delicious, they played a drinking game he had never heard of and then somebody kicked off a round of predictions for the next year. They only grew more and more ridiculous as the round went on, from “I think it is going to be a good year for cows in Kansas” to “The Mayans have miscalculated, the world will actually end next year in June." In the end everyone was in stitches.

And just like that it was nearly midnight and time for the fireworks.

If somebody were to ask him, Castiel wouldn’t say that he was particularly excited about the holidays. In fact, he was one of those people that announced loudly that the last day of the year felt no different than the other three-hundred-sixty-four did.

However, as they all gathered outside on Ellen’s patio and people around them started handing out sparklers around them, he knew he had never felt this way about the start of a new year before. Whether it was the amount of beer he’d had over the last few hours or something else, that made him feel slightly dizzy when it got closer to midnight, he couldn’t say. 

Still the fact remained: Castiel Novak was actually excited. 

Meg stood close next to him and squeezed his arm and he felt overwhelmingly grateful to have her there by his side. She was practically radiating energy. Somebody started counting down the seconds and he too, was swept up in the joy of the people around him.

Ten! Nine! Eight!” they counted in unison. 

Seven! Six! Five! Four!” Castiel shouted along with the rest of them. 

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

People around the started kissing and embracing and he was swept up in a tight hug from Meg. “Happy New Year, Clarence!” she beamed. 

Above her head Castiel could see Dean smiling at him and then he felt like he was being passed around from Jo to Charlie to Garth. All of these people, he had only just met, were hugging him tight and he suddenly felt very warm, even though he had been freezing minutes before. Someone lit his sparkler along the way and overhead fireworks exploded.

When he came to hug Dean, Castiel tried to squeeze extra tightly. He hoped to convey every ounce of gratitude he felt in that moment, that he was allowed to be a part of such a wonderful group of people, that Dean would share them with him. He felt light-headed, but in a good way.

Maybe the next year was going to be a good one.

 

 

The party sure wasn’t as wild as those in their teens or twenties had been but Dean would still count it as a success. Even though it was in the early hours of the morning it was still going: Jo was shouting the rules of the card game she was trying to play while Garth was using the cards for magic tricks. Benny was nowhere to be found, last he’d seen Charlie she’d been dancing wildly and even though Meg was currently making out with Victor in a corner, Dean still thought the surprise had been a success.

All night, Cas and he had been around people but when they sank down on Ellen’s old flowery sofa, suddenly it was just the two of them. The living room was only dimly lit and it made Dean acutely remember what Cas had looked like in the light of the fireworks, how his eyes had shone and his mouth had been slightly open. 

Ever since he’d had kids there was something magical in everything but watching his friend marvel at something so mundane made his stomach flip for some reason. He wondered whether he should ask Cas about the surprise but even now in the dark he felt compelled to look at Cas’s profile and it made him feel like the air was electric.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because you turn me inside out , Dean wanted to say, Because you make me feel something, I didn’t know I would ever feel. You make me want to peel off my skin and make me want to kiss you stupidly in the same breath and I am scared out of my mind.  

The mere fact he was even thinking along those lines was because he was utterly drunk.

Instead he stupidly asked, “Why don’t you have a family of your own, Cas?”

In his right mind he never would have asked that and any of the other terrifying questions would have probably been better, but he only realised that, when Cas looked genuinely hurt. He wanted to reach out and take back his words, but he could only watch as Cas’s face shifted through several emotions until it settled on tired.

“You know why.”

“Tell me,” It was unfair and he wouldn’t have done it, had he been sober, but suddenly he needed to know.  “You’re kind and you’re good with kids and you’re good looking, so why don’t you have a family?” He didn’t add, when I have by some miracle. In hindsight he should have really drank less, he was starting to feel a little light-headed.

Castiel’s reply was so quiet, at first Dean wasn’t quite sure, he had heard him right. “Because I want what I can’t have.” 

The words reverberated through him, leaving a bitter aftertaste on Dean’s tongue. He was no stranger to feeling that way. The familiar ache hit him, the need to stroke Cas’s cheek, tell him all would be fine, but he couldn’t. The pain in his chest multiplied as he saw Castiel shake his head abruptly and sit up straighter.

“You’ll find someone." Dean promised, trying not to sound like he was about to cry.

Thankfully he was spared Cas’s reply, when Benny popped down next down to them and handed them the next round of beers. 

“Looked like you could use a refuel.” The other man grunted and Dean couldn’t agree more. 

He took three large gulps at once. The beer went down bitter and cool and in that moment, Dean was both grateful for the distraction it provided and was reminded of the hate he felt for giving in to the liquid hell.

 If only he were a little braver, maybe this wouldn’t have to be so hard.


Chapter 12: Twelve.

Chapter Text

The first thing Dean did every morning was check his phone. 

It had been on loud the entire night, so he was fairly sure he wouldn’t have missed it if  someone had called, but he had to make sure nothing bad had happened, while he’d been out. He’d never admit to it, but old habits died hard and even after years of a fairly stable life, this was the easiest way to get rid of the anxiety that he woke up with every day.

No new messages, no missed calls. He let go of a breath, he was unintentionally holding and swung his legs out of bed.

The house was still quiet and Dean was glad for it. A couple years prior, Ben would have been standing at the foot of their bed by five thirty and wouldn’t go back to his own room. Dean mostly succeeded in not thinking of their son’s insomnia during the last few months of Lisa’s illness. 

Guilt was not pleasant to start the day off with.

Now that Ben finally slept in a little longer again, Dean was able to spend the first half an hour or so on his own, drinking his coffee and reading a book until the kids came downstairs for breakfast. The stairs creaked lightly when he made his way down to the kitchen, but his children had certainly been blessed by Lisa’s genes in being heavy sleepers. Not even a little rock music could wake them up. So he put on one of his favourites – Van Haalen – in the background and settled onto the couch with a warm cup of coffee and his book.

He got about two chapters in, before he heard a key rattling against the front door. The sound of it set him on edge immediately. It took him a second to remember it couldn’t be Lisa. Dean tried to stop the panic from rising. He’d checked on both Claire and Ben before coming downstairs, they were fine. Sam was in California and there hadn’t been any missed calls on his phone this morning. It couldn’t be…? 

No, he forced himself to breathe, his father had been dead for a while and wasn’t coming home from a bender ever again. Think, Dean, who has a key to your house? It had to be…

“Hi Dean,” Ellen said, popping her head into the living room. He breathed deeply and tried to loosen his grip on his book. She only raised her eyebrow at that and then she chastised, “You’re not supposed to be up.”

Her tone nearly made Dean apologise before he remembered, “I’m an adult, Ellen, I can get up when I want to. Besides,” he grinned widely, “It’s my birthday, so I make the rules today.”

Belatedly, he realised his second statement had more than undermined his first, when Ellen’s bemused smile told him as much. “Exactly,” she stated, “Which is why you are supposed to be in bed, while your kids make you breakfast.” She crossed her arms in a way that made him think she’d drag him back to bed herself, if he didn’t go. Only now he noticed the grocery bag, she’d dropped to the floor.

Dean at least tried to hide the smile, threatening to split his face, and pretended to look back at his spot on the couch wistfully. At least that part wasn’t acting, he’d grown fond of his quiet weekend mornings. 

God, he was getting old. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” he relented, throwing his hands up in surrender. As an afterthought, he grabbed his cup from the coffee table. “I’m taking this though.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but it looked like she’d allow it. “You better be pretending to be asleep later,” she warned him, as he walked up the stairs, then called after him, “Oh, and happy birthday, Dean. See you this afternoon!”

Well out of her line of sight, Dean allowed for the smile to settle on his face. 

Happy birthday, indeed.

 

 

About an hour later, Ben poked his head into the room and whisper-shouted, “Dad, are you awake?” Which made Claire snort loudly and retort, “Now he definitely is.”

With that she pushed open the door and carried a tray inside. Dean tried his hardest to still look sleepy, while he put aside his book and then all but demanded his birthday hugs. They crawled into bed with him and huddled close. Breakfast consisted of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and beans, which he knew were there more for Claire’s benefit than his own. 

It was lovely – Ellen’s cooking was great after all- even though the toast was slightly burned, which Claire told him Ben had been responsible for, while Ben shouted, “That’s not true, Dad, Claire’s lying!” until Dean told both of them, he liked it just like that. Which was also not quite true.

Halfway through one of the cats came in and lay on the bed with them and because it was his birthday, Dean allowed it.

Then Sam had called and they’d skyped him together still in their pyjamas. Sam wrinkled his nose, when Ben told him, how much snow they had in their backyard and declared moving to California the best fucking decision of his life, before catching himself and looking nervously over at Dean. 

Any other day, it might have hurt, but as it was Dean just smiled. His brother seemed happy and he’d see the rest of his family later. Sam’s kids didn’t share his lack of enthusiasm for snow and let Ben describe in detail what he wanted to build later.

Dean could only convince Ben to change out of his batman pyjamas with the promise of pie later. The fact that it was his father’s birthday pie and not his own didn’t seem to matter. Since it was his birthday, they let him play all of his records and all three of them jumped and danced through the living room until they were out of breath. Then they set the table using their plates for special occasions, the family heirloom, Lisa’s mother had gifted them for their wedding. Dean thought they were terribly corny with their tiny flowers and fake gold rim, but he couldn’t argue with tradition. Secretly, he had to admit to himself, something would be missing without them.

The most difficult part of the day came around midday when Lisa’s parents called with congratulations. Dean had to swallow the lump in his throat to accept. Only in the last few months of their daughter’s life had they really connected and Dean couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t exactly the perfect son-in-law.

“Your call means a lot to me,” he told Lisa’s mum truthfully now and pretended he couldn’t hear her sniffling softly.

“Lisa would be very proud of you,” she replied and when he closed his eyes for a moment he could pretend to believe her.

Then Claire grabbed the phone from him to tell her grandmother about something they had planned in school the next week and that was fine. Dean’s connection to his in-laws was one of fond shared remembering, but when it came down to it, he really didn’t have all that much to say. He went to check they had enough beer in the fridge one more time instead.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the doorbell rang every few minutes. 

First was Ellen, who made a show of exclaiming loudly: “My baby turns thirty-six today!” while Claire sniggered behind him.

“Not fair, I’m the oldest.” Dean mumbled half-heartedly, which only earned him another smirk. Bobby clapped a hand on his elbow and wished him a happy birthday before wheeling into the kitchen with what seemed to be cherry pie in his lap.

Next was Charlie, beaming like it was her own birthday, who wore a giant, woollen stormtrooper hat that had Ben go looking for his dinosaur hat immediately. Dean made a mental note to tell Cas about it later.

Directly behind her Jody apologized profusely for Donna’s absence in favour of another last-minute shift change and carefully balanced the three dishes she’d brought in one hand while she hugged him with the other arm. While Dean was still trying to assure her, the things she brought were perfectly fine and she shouldn’t even have bothered with that much, Claire ran up behind him and squealed her name at the highest pitch possible. Babbling, she dragged Jody away from him and to her credit, his friend at least tried to shrug apologetically.

Dean had hardly a minute to sit down, when Jo arrived completely out of breath with a gift tucked under her arm that looked like she’d wrapped it at the very last minute. 

“Happy birthday, you old hag!” she exclaimed before shaking off the snow in his doorway.

Very uncharacteristically ten minutes late, Cas rang the doorbell and there was snow all in his hair. “Forgot my hat,” he told Dean solemnly, but Dean doubted he would have been sensible enough to wear one, when he was still wearing his trench coat in the middle of winter, which he shook out at the doorstep before neatly folding it over his arm. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he added then and his eyes looked so earnest, he might as well have said something completely different. 

“Lighten up, this is a party!” Dean laughed, then pulled him inside.

Benny joined them without his family since they were upstate but with a cake in his arms, while Garth brought all of his children. When they’d already sat down to finally eat, they were interrupted by Victor arriving, looking not sorry at all for being terribly late. 

It was a very tight fit, but they made it work with an arsenal of folding chairs and limited personal space. Dean tried to hide his embarrassment when they sang for him and laughed and laughed. They stuffed themselves and then Dean opened everybody’s presents, trying not to feel awkward over all the attention he was getting.

When it started snowing just when they were finished, almost everyone tripped over themselves pulling on their boots and jackets. He could only just force Ben to wear gloves, when Jo dragged him out, shouting for a snowball fight and sending Cas a very stern look.

“You are coming!” she instructed and there was no arguing with Jo. 

Squeals of joy and threats echoed through the backyard in no time and Dean found himself with a handful of snow down the front of his shirt, courtesy of Benny. Out of breath, he got up and tried to prevent more of it soaking into his undershirt and stood back out of harm’s way. Seemingly out of nowhere Cas materialised beside him.

“You have a violent family,” he remarked casually. His hair was standing up in all directions and he looked a little wet all over.

“Nah,” Dean retorted with a smile, “That’s just our way of showing love.” 

They watched as Garth put up his hands in surrender to Ben but got a face full of snow anyway. The snow was falling around them in thick flakes.

Cas cleared his throat. “I still want to give you something,” he announced, “Earlier didn’t seem like the right time.” When Dean looked over, he dug around in his pocket.

“You thought the time I opened everybody else’s gifts earlier wasn’t the right one?”

“No.”

Dean forced down the flutter of nervousness in his stomach. He didn’t want some obscure present. Still watching the others goofing around, he tried to compose his face into one of polite interest.

“Here,” Cas said as he pressed a small paper envelope into Dean’s gloved hands. “You don’t have to open it now, but it’s a chain… for your ring.” He wasn’t looking at Dean while he said it, but there was something in his voice, Dean couldn’t identify. 

He suddenly felt a little dizzy. 

He didn’t need to ask what ring Cas was referring to: he hadn’t told anybody, he couldn’t take off the ring, because it felt like burying his wife one final time and yet, here he was offered a way to keep her close. The packet felt heavy in his hand.

Dean was still searching for the right reply, when a snowball hit him square on his neck.

“Quit chatting and start defending yourself, Winchester!” Charlie hollered from the other side of the garden with a huge, gleeful smile. 

Apologetically, Dean turned towards Cas and shrugged. “I guess, time out’s over,” he stated and smiled. Almost as an afterthought he added: “Thanks, Cas.” and hoped that those few words would convey what he really meant, but if Cas had been smart enough to figure out what the perfect gift would be, he was clever enough to know Dean wasn’t a man of words.

Before a second attack could hit him, Dean stooped low and gathered up some snow. “Alright, who here is ready for the real challenge to start?” he exclaimed and received a loud cheer as a reply. 

No matter what Sammy said, winters in Kansas weren’t too bad after all.

 

 

He only got a chance to open the envelope later, when he’d gone to the bathroom to wash the mulled wine that had spilled on his jersey, while serving it. The chain was silver, just like his ring and it was… perfect. It wasn’t too dainty or too flashy, Cas had chosen well. Dean only hesitated for a moment before slipping his wedding band off his ring finger and threading the chain through it. 

For a moment he paused, looking at himself in the mirror and… it felt weirdly anticlimactic. He didn’t quite know what he’d been expecting: grief, self-loathing, or relief. 

However instead, his heart was full to the brim with love for the people that were waiting for him in his living room, telling increasingly outrageous jokes and choosing to spend the day with him. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Lisa to be there. Maybe it was just that for today it was alright that she wasn’t.

The chain fit easily under his t-shirt and Dean smiled at his reflection before stepping back outside. All of the seats were taken, so he sat on the armrest of the sofa next to Charlie who handed him a mug full of steaming mulled wine. 

For all of the times his wedding ring had been the topic of conversation, someone should have noticed, Dean wasn’t wearing it anymore for the first time in years, but if they did, they didn’t show it. He let himself relax and just listen to the murmur of voices. There was really nothing he would rather be doing on his birthday than this. 

He lifted his cup to his mouth. When he balanced it back on his knee, Cas looked over at him, a small smile playing on his lips. As if on instinct, Dean lifted his hand to the place he could feel the ring against his chest and Cas’s smile grew.

It didn’t feel like the world had stopped moving or as if he’d banished Lisa from his life. However, in that moment, Dean felt lighter than he had in a long time.

 

Chapter 13: Thirteen.

Notes:

(tw: internalised homophobia)

Just a PSA before you dive into this chapter: obviously I am Meg in the first conversation and don't share Cas's POV! If you yourself are stuck in similar thoughts, please know there is nothing wrong with you and if you don't think you are up for this right now, that is fine :)
Also Dean's comments toward the end could be interpreted as sightly suicidal but it is so slight I opted not to tag it as a main tw.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“How’s that Kansas life?”

“Fine.” Castiel rolled his eyes at Meg even though she couldn’t see him through the phone.

And life was fine – he tried to spend as little time in the office as possible and tried to console himself with the fact that it was only a temporary arrangement. As to friends – he had Dean. There was no way he was going to tell her that though and let her pity him any more for his non-existent life besides work. Every call he could hear her disappointment down the line and he was loathing himself enough already.

“How’s Dean?” she asked pointedly. “And don’t say fine. I’m not calling to get the same answers I’d get via text.”

“But he is fine,” Castiel grumbled. It surprised him a little that he had to rack his brain for anything else, since he saw Dean so often. “He’s helping Benny to coach the under 13s football team, even though he’s never even played himself.” He smiled at the memory of Dean trying to get his throws and kicks right in the garden while Ben excitedly ran around and tried to catch the ball.

“Ah, Benny,” Meg sighed. “A shame that man is taken.”

“You already hooked up with one of Dean’s friends, remember?”

She clucked disapprovingly. “Why must a girl be satisfied with that?” How he envied her for being able to navigate her own satisfaction so easily.

Her thoughts seemed to move in the same direction as she quietly asked, “And things are good between you and Dean?”

All Castiel wanted to do was talk about Dean, about his smile, his kindness and his weird historical facts, but he didn’t want to talk about Dean.

“Yeah,” he lied, like he didn’t want to spend every waking minute with his friend and hated himself for it.

“Are they ‘friendship’ good or…?”

“Meg, you know I don’t do that.”

“Yeah, and for the record that is stupid.” There was anger in her voice, and he wasn’t quite sure whether it was directed at him or not.

“It’s not stupid,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “It’s the right thing to do.”

Meg knew all of these things and he hated that he had to defend them to her. Maybe it seemed stupid to her, but Castiel could never forget the pure terror he’d felt on a night a few years ago.

They’d gotten drunk and as often, he had crashed on Meg’s couch since his apartment was further from the bars. Taking off their jackets, they had stumbled in the hallway and had giggled uncontrollably and suddenly, without knowing how it had happened, Meg had been kissing him against the wall. Even more surprising, Castiel had found himself kissing back, trying to revel in the softness of her lips, willing himself to be turned on by her breasts against his chest. He had tried and hadn’t thought he was doing too badly when Meg had pulled away from him. She’d looked at him intently, her eyes suddenly sharp again. “You’re not enjoying this,” Meg had remarked with a frown.

‘I am! ’, he’d wanted to scream but no sound had come out and Castiel had stood there paralysed for a few terrible seconds. Time had slowed when she’d whispered the next few words: “You’re gay, aren’t you?” 

The ringing in his ears had grown.

It hadn’t been the first time someone had guessed, but it had been the first time someone had known.

Since then they had talked about it only a handful of times. Meg had made it abundantly clear she thought he was an idiot while Castiel had tried to fend her off. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand, it was simply that she couldn’t.

Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away even though he was pressing the phone to his ear so hard it would leave an imprint. “How exactly is denying yourself love the right thing to do?”

“Meg, please,” he said even though he didn’t quite know what he was asking, “We’ve been over this so many times. I can’t do it because I could never atone for that.”

“You don’t call me a sinner.”

Castiel swallowed hard. “Because you’re not.” 

In his books, she should be a saint for putting up with him, even though he was thousands of miles away and texted back single-word replies.

Meg laughed dryly. “You can say it how it is, it doesn’t bother me. I sleep with three different guys a week if I want to. I don’t think your parents would condone that.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not. If I’m no sinner, you’re not either.”

This was not a conversation he was going to win. “It’s not that simple. I don’t have time to explain though, I have to get going.”

“We’re not done with this.”

“That’s too bad, because I need to leave.” He did not in fact have to leave for another twenty minutes, but she didn’t need to know that.

Her voice turned sickly sweet, when she asked, “Oh, where are you going, Clarence?”

There was the possibility of lying, but she already knew the answer anyway. Castiel gritted his teeth. “Dean’s.”

“Well try not to look at his ankles too much then.” Not once had he looked at Dean’s ankles and found there to be anything to be particular about them. Yet, at Meg’s suggestion he flushed. Before he had a chance to reply, she added, “It’s not a sin to be happy, Castiel. Love you, speak to you soon!” With those words she hung up and Castiel listened to the holding sign a couple seconds longer.

It wasn’t that simple. But how was Meg to understand? 

She had never known faith.

 

 

About an hour later Castiel wondered where Meg or he himself had gotten the idea that dinner at the Winchester’s was a joyful matter. Currently Dean and Claire were in a glaring match, while Ben was babbling about the new model car his friend Tommy had gotten for his birthday and Castiel was trying to eat his food as quietly as possible.

“What could have possibly happened that you just punch another girl, Claire?” Dean snapped again, completely ignoring Ben’s story.

Claire sighed. “Dad, I already told you.”

“Well, the answer wasn’t good enough.”

They’d been over this at least twice since Castiel had gotten there and he suspected they had been going since Dean had been forced to pick up his daughter after fourth period, because she punched one of her classmates in the face. Apparently, her only reason was that the other girl had annoyed Claire but you’d have to be blind to believe that was all there was to it.

Claire however had resorted back to stubborn silence.

“So no reason? You think you‘re Hillary Swank?”

“Who even is that?”

“Million dollar baby? That ring any bells?” Dean was getting more and more pissed off by the second. “Who raised you?”

His daughter huffed exasperatedly. “Let me rephrase: I. Don’t. Care. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Punish me, whatever, and I won’t do it again, Dad.”

Dean looked like he’d launch his plate across the room any second now. Castiel knew he had to interfere and yet, he tried to come up with a plausible reason not to. He’d been subject to Dean’s rage before and he didn’t think for one second that Claire’s would be any better. However, he was an adult and unfortunately, the only other adult in this situation.

“Okay,” Castiel interjected before either of them could say anything else, “Claire, why don’t you go upstairs and get Ben ready for bed and your dad will be up in a minute okay? Then you can both cool down and talk about it some more.”

For a split-second, Claire looked like she was going to object but when he sent her a pointed look she relented. Not without making a show of pushing back her chair very loudly and staring daggers at her father though.

Once the kids were gone, they ate the rest of their meal in silence, Dean basically radiating anger.

When he was done with his plate, Castiel awkwardly cleared his throat. “She’ll talk to you eventually,” he stated and hoped it was the right thing to say.

Dean only grumbled.

“You know she didn’t do it over nothing and she needs you to understand”, Castiel went on, trying to ignore his own unease, “Show her you trust her and she’ll come around.”

“She can’t go around punching people, even if it is for the right reason, though.”

He put up his hands. “I’m not saying that! You should still think of a punishment but this was going nowhere. You know you didn’t always do the right thing as a kid.” 

That was his ace – if that didn’t convince him, he didn’t know what would. There were quite a few times he could remember from the top of his head, when he’d had to talk his friend out of fights. Dean should be glad his daughter at least had a reason.

They sat in tense silence for a few more moments before Dean relented. “You’re right,” he mumbled, so quietly Castiel might have missed it, then pushed back his chair and got up. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Be nice,” Castiel cautioned and then he was left alone at the dinner table.

He loaded the dishwasher, wiped the table and when there was nothing else to do, he went to the living room.

As he sat on the sofa downstairs while Dean was putting the kids to bed, Castiel wondered whether he should leave. The whole evening had felt like a family matter and he wasn’t sure his presence was helping. It had felt weird interrupting their conflict like that as if he was overstepping an invisible boundary. On the other hand, if Dean had wanted him to, he would have asked him to leave, wouldn’t he? Besides, he didn’t just want to sneak out without saying goodbye either. 

With a sigh he resigned himself to waiting. At loss for much else to do, he got up and once again looked at the photo wall, which was where Dean found him a couple of minutes later.

“You’re looking at our best-ofs,” A voice grumbled from behind him, before a heavy sigh.

There was an ever so slight smell of cigarette smoke – apparently, things upstairs hadn’t gone much better. Ignoring that, Castiel turned to face him.

“Yes, I realise that’s what a photo wall is for, right?” he replied pointedly. “Unless you’d like to put up pictures of your kids crying or yourself covered in puke.”

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded, “Do you want tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“The usual?”

Castiel nodded. While Dean wandered into the kitchen to make their tea, he wondered how on earth he ended up here. A few months ago, they hadn’t spoken in years and now here he was, giving out advice or at least consolation for something he definitely wasn’t equipped for.

With two mugs in hand, Dean returned and sat down on the sofa, so Castiel joined him. He sat with his back against the side rest, knees drawn to his chest, watching Dean, who was resolutely staring at the wall. Between occasional angry sips at his still steaming tea, his jaw twitched in a way Castiel had grown familiar with over the last few months.

“So, did she tell you?”

“Apparently that girl said something mean about her friend, which I told her is no reason to punch anyone, but-”

“You would have done the same at her age,” Castiel finished the sentence for him. When another while passed without either of them saying something, he asked, “What are you thinking?” 

He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but it had always been hit or miss with Dean. It still took Dean a while to reply, but there was no more anger in his voice when he did, only resignation and hurt. 

“I’m failing at this, Cas. Lisa was perfect at this whole parenting thing in a way, I’ll never be. And here I am teaching my kids to be fuck-ups just like me.”

Even turned away from him, Castiel could see in Dean’s expression that he believed every word of what he was saying, and it made him angry for his friend. Meanwhile, he was thinking that Dean was doing rather well compared to his father. John Winchester would have either praised his son for behaving like a real man or given him a matching black eye, depending on his mood. Or his blood alcohol. Not that he was going to bring up Dean’s father when his friend was already upset like this.

“Nobody is perfect, Dean,” he insisted, laying as much conviction into it as he could, “And nobody, no one in this family is a fuck-up.”

“I just wish she was still here, so she could take care of this kind of stuff. She’d know how to handle this even on her own, while I just keep… failing at this,” Dean carried on undeterred, “If someone should have died young, it should have been me.”

His heart must have cracked, because suddenly Castiel felt a sharp pain in his chest and struggled to breathe. He was certainly not qualified for this kind of conversation either. He would have liked to reach out to Dean, close the distance between them that felt much greater than the length of the sofa, but he held back.

“You deserve to be here,” he replied quietly instead, hoping his voice conveyed just how much more Dean deserved. His friend had still not looked over. “You are raising Claire and Ben to be kind and independent. So what if you don’t get it right all of the time? They’re still very lucky to have you and if Lisa were here, she would be proud.” 

I am proud of you , he wanted to add.

Dean lifted his head then and gave him a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s one hell of an inspirational speech, Cas. You sure, you don’t want kids of your own?”

In their years of friendship, there was always this universal truth: they had always been able to hit the other just where it hurt the most. After a deep breath, Castiel tried to keep his voice steady when he replied, “Not really keen on passing on my hang ups.”

At that Dean laughed drily. “Hypocrite,” he chided and took out his pack of cigarettes again. People had called Castiel way worse.

He couldn’t suppress an exasperated sigh as he got up but sent Dean a smile to soften the blow, “I’ll make us another cup of tea and then you can call Jody, who will tell you the exact same thing I just did - you are a good parent and even good parents make mistakes!”

Dean didn’t reply but as he walked away, Castiel thought he heard him mumble “wise-ass” under his breath. When he glanced back though, Dean smiled at him softly, so he must have been doing something right.

 

Notes:

Yay for unintended co-parenting! Cas doesn't seem to have a problem with that at least :D

Chapter 14: Fourteen.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It didn’t come as a surprise when Ben asked Cas to come to his birthday party.

Over the last few weeks, he’d been over for dinner so much that Ben asked Dean what was going on if he wasn’t in the last three days. It should probably bother him that his son didn’t give him nearly as much attention, but at the same time, Dean couldn’t care less when all he wanted was to have Cas back over. 

Like father, like son.

Dean’s favourite thing about the house Lisa and he had rented after their flat had become too small for the four of them was its garden. It was small, but it was his and there was something about being able to sit on his own porch looking into his backyard where his children could play all year long, that made his throat close up.

So even though April in Kansas wasn’t warm, they were having a garden party.

When Lisa had organised the parties, she had invited all of the mums to stay as well and they had chatted away all afternoon on the patio. However, the last birthday before she’d died, she’d been too weak for a big party and when she was gone, Dean just couldn’t bring himself to throw a pity party, quite literally.

So instead, Ben got to invite a few of his friends and then they decided together which of Dean’s friends could come as well. Which in his eyes made for a much better party anyway.

First they sat on the patio and had cake. There was cherry pie – Dean’s favourite, which made it Ben’s favourite – and chocolate cake, coffee for the adults, soda for the kids.

Then came Ben’s highlight: gift unwrapping. Dean was rather proud of himself for remembering the exact model of car his son wanted a replica of. Besides that, he’d gotten the greatest hits by Metallica on CD even though they obviously owned each of the records on Vinyl, a t-shirt, Ben had been eyeing for weeks, and soccer shoes. He’d even channelled his inner super mom by getting Claire a comic book to give to her brother, even though she still had to make the card herself.

Briefly, Dean wondered whether he was spoiling his son too much, but then he remembered his own birthdays as a nine-year-old and decided that no present was too much. After their presents it was their guests’ turn and Ben’s eyes grew bigger and bigger with each parcel.

“Look what I got, Cas!” Ben shouted excitedly. “Can you take a picture of me?”

It was pretty obvious to anybody that had ever had fun as a child that the camera Ben was holding out to Cas wasn’t a real one. Plus, Ben was already beaming from ear to ear and Dean thought he'd still have to teach his son a thing or two about pranking someone. Every child and adult at the table knew what would happen judging by their expressions. 

Apparently, Cas did not, as he turned it over in his hands and then dutifully lifted the camera to his eye and pressed the shutter button. The water hidden in the prank camera splashed all over Cas’s face and shirt. He looked down at it so bewildered, it set all of them off in hysterics.

When Dean had finally recovered enough to speak, he offered, “Come on, I’ll lend you one of mine.”

The intimacy of being alone in his bedroom, didn’t strike Dean until he’d gotten out a shirt, and couldn’t help but stare when Cas dropped his own. His mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry.

It was not just the muscles in Cas’s back, that looked like they had been sculpted. Nor was it the fact that it had been a long time since he had seen that particular sight before him or even anything else this hot. It was the fact that underneath that damn white pressed shirt, there was black ink etched into Castiel’s skin forming some of the best artwork, he had ever seen, and Dean longed to touch them and see them up close. 

The most obvious tattoos were the wings that spanned his shoulders and upper arms, a dagger that sat left of his spine on his lower back and then there were bits of writing and patterns he wasn’t familiar with. Some of his own tattoos looked shoddy in comparison.

The intensity of the moment hit him like a brick wall. He couldn’t step closer, but he couldn’t look away either, so he just stared. His breath caught in his throat and it was that sound, that made Cas look over his shoulder and turn. 

“Didn’t expect that?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

Lost for words, Dean shook his head. And shit, there were more tattoos on Cas’s chest. And was that a bee sitting just above his hip bone? 

If he had less self-restraint, he would have licked his lips. Or Castiel’s hip bone for that matter.

“Can’t blame you,” Cas shrugged, “I’ve been hiding them from my family for years.” He shrugged on one of Dean’s old band t-shirts, which arguably looked only marginally less hot.

“We should head back out and I’ll start cooking,” Dean proposed, voice raspy, because damn, he couldn’t stay in his bedroom any longer or he might spontaneously combust. Especially not with all of his friends and family out and about in his house. 

Nothing like your screaming children to take your mind off wanting to trace your friend’s incredibly sexy tattoos.

 

 

An extensive nerf gun fight in the garden and Ben’s favourite dinner, spaghetti with meatballs, later, the kids were slowly being picked back up and a glance around told Dean all the adults were equally as exhausted. They all helped to clean up the biggest messes and then one by one they went home.

“Can Cas read me a story tonight?” Ben asked when everybody was gone and their house was finally quiet again. Dean tried very hard not to feel hurt. Bedtime was one of his favourites.

“Are you sure buddy?”

“You can come,” Ben offered and yeah, okay.

“Alright, why don’t you go ask Cas yourself?”

He watched as Ben scrambled off his lap and over to where Cas was sitting in an armchair across from then. His cocky little boy suddenly looked very shy as he mumbled his question into Cas’s ears and Dean could see his friend’s eyes widening and searching for him. He smiled encouragingly, feeling his heart swell in his chest – maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all. Excitedly, Ben walked Cas upstairs and when Dean popped in his head a couple of minutes later, he got to see his boy cuddled into Cas’s side, his eyes already drooping.

For a few moments Dean just listened to Cas’s voice doing a surprisingly good impression of the different voices that made Ben giggle. When he had asked Cas about being a parent on New Year’s Eve he’d been drunk and out of line, but this right here proved him right – Cas might not think he’d be capable, but he would be a good dad.

Plus, even if he would have never admitted it out loud, Dean liked that Cas was so good with his kids specifically. Sure, Claire was endlessly amused with Cas’s quirks, while Ben’s enthusiasm to show him things never failed, but they both couldn’t wait for him to be back over.

 After a while he came in and listened to the end of the story in plain sight. Ben was so tired, he didn’t even complain when he announced it was sleeping time.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Dean asked as he tucked his son in tight.

The reply made his heart swell. “The best.”

After lights out, they returned to the couch and Dean felt just as exhausted as Ben had been. He glanced over at Cas. In the dim light of the kitchen, his profile looked softer than it did in daylight. 

He wanted to… although, he didn’t quite know what he wanted.

Did the other think it weird that all of his other friends had left, but he was still here? Dean knew what his friends thought of it – he’d seen their knowing glances, when they’d thought him too occupied to notice.

 He didn’t know how that made him feel exactly. A weird mix of excitement, relief and worry maybe. He knew they’d been waiting for the moment that he’d start dating again after Lisa for a while now, but even he himself didn’t quite know whether he was even ready for that. Hell, if he was, he didn’t ever think he’d be dating another man. 

That was on a whole other level than the occasional lay.

He knew however that he was as comfortable as he hadn’t been in a long time, right here on the couch with Castiel.

The image of Cas’s back muscles flexing under his tattoos flashed through his mind. He should be allowed to want something, shouldn’t he? Dean shut his eyes real tight, to will down the panic. The words, because I want what I can’t have , ricocheted in his skull and it made him sick. 

He should be allowed to want Cas. Dean deserved this and hell, Cas deserved it, too. There were a lot of things that could be said against John Winchester’s parenting style, but he certainly hadn’t been raised to be weak.

On a whim he took Cas’s hand. Even if he couldn’t decide where this should go, he could try. Baby steps.

For a moment it felt perfect. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t felt Cas’s touch lately, but holding his hand and feeling every line, every callous against his skin felt a hundred times more intimate. Not perfect in a chick-flick way; the nausea was still there, and his heart was beating entirely too fast for a man in his thirties. But safe. 

He could do this, he was brave.

Then seconds later, the moment was gone, when Cas abruptly pulled away his hand as if coming to. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide in shock.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Why are you holding my hand, Dean?” Castiel clarified, face blank.

Internally, Dean steeled himself. Was he trying to mock him? If everybody else could see it, Cas couldn’t be that oblivious? “You fucking know why.”

“I don’t remember holding your hand before.”

“Oh, so did you think you were just over here all the time playing house with my kids?” Dean snarled. His anger came through sharper than he himself had expected. He was allowed to want this.

“I-”

“Why do you think you are the last one still here, when all of my friends have already left?”

“Because-”

Dean didn’t even want to hear the lie his friend would try to tell him. The words just seemed to rush out of him, finally breaking loose from their confines. “Save it! And stop lying to yourself – you are here, because you like me, Castiel!” 

Somehow, his voice sounded a lot more certain than he felt himself. If he had gotten the chance, he could have admitted to being a bit at loss about how their relationship should proceed and what exactly he felt, but here Cas had thrown any chance of that straight out the window.

The rage fought off the pending humiliation of Cas’s rejection, but only so much. As the pause grew infinitively longer, panic and shame took its place and made itself back at home. Why did he think he could allow himself to let on that he wanted this? 

Because I want what I can’t have. Maybe Cas just went for women out of his league.

Dean’s mind raced for the words to say, if he had actually interpreted the situation wrong, maybe he was actually the only one of them who wanted this, when after a long pause Castiel finally mumbled, “I’m not ready!” With that he got up and moved away from the couch.

Dean rubbed his face. It wasn’t a rejection, but perhaps it felt worse? It made him feel hollow and suddenly very tired. Every inch between them felt too far. 

Yes Dean, sure you can want this, but it’ll eat you up inside and in the end you’ll get nothing at all. Should’ve known better than to get burnt by any Novak twice. 

His voice sounded raspy as he whispered, “At this rate you will never be ready!”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed dangerously at that and he took a step closer again. “Oh and of course, you are ready?”

“All of my friends know.”

“Right… Charlie who is a lesbian herself. Friends with no affiliation to your family. What about Sam? Or your kids?”

“My kids don’t need to know who their dad’s sleeping with! I’ll let them know when it’s relevant!” Dean really shouldn’t have to defend himself like this.

“And same with Sam presumably?”

Maybe he’d spoken too soon; apparently he wasn’t too tired to feel a twitch of anger after all. With a raise of his eyebrows, he got out his phone. “I will call Sam right now if you want me to. Tell him I’ve been seeing this guy… who’s being a real asshole so far. Maybe he’ll remember who you are? Bet he’ll love that.”

“It’s the middle of the night in California.”

“He’ll answer.” 

Even to his own ears, it sounded like a threat. If Cas wanted to humiliate him, so be it, but they would go down together.

“I don’t really care what he thinks of me.”

“Oh, you do.”

For a split second it looked as though Dean had won and Castiel would let his guard back down so they could talk, but then a look that Dean knew all too well entered his eyes. Before Castiel even opened his mouth, Dean knew with a sudden clarity there was no way this would end civil. It was the same look a wounded animal wore when it geared up for its final attack. 

“Well, what about your Dad?” Castiel hissed, “Would you have told him? Or would you have been too scared to disappoint him?”

The instant surge of rage felt all too familiar. Ten years earlier, Dean might have socked Castiel in the jaw and it wasn’t as though he didn’t feel like doing so now. What should have stopped him were the two kids sleeping upstairs, but somehow everything around him went blurry, when he got this way. The blood was pumping too loudly in his ears. As a teenager nothing could stop him from hitting where it hurt. 

However now, whenever he felt hot all over and like he wanted to claw right out of his skin, all he could hear was Bobby’s voice. You are a hundred times the man your father ever was – be a better man than him. And he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t let the rage win anymore. Deep breaths. Unclench your fingers. Instead, he resorted back to threatening and hoped Castiel would receive the message nonetheless, or else… 

“Get out of my house!” he hissed.

“How is that any different than my situation, Dean?” 

In that moment Cas looked so much like his father, it made Dean want to puke. He wore the same disdainful expression and Dean had bared the same cold stare before, could feel the same horrible gut feeling now. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he could still feel it piercing through him.

“Get out,” he breathed and raising his voice added, “I don’t ever want to see you around my kids again, you bastard!” He couldn’t believe he’d ever been so foolish as to even let this person into their lives in the first place.

Castiel’s jaw clenched before he spat, “Fine, but don’t think, I’ll fall for your friendship again.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

The door banged shut behind him and Dean was left standing in his living room breathing heavily. It had been a long time since he’d been this angry. The tears in his eyes didn’t sting nearly as much as the feelings of unworthiness that Cas had unleashed again. 

Apparently, he wasn’t even able to keep his kids out of harm’s way and had fallen right back under the Novak family’s spell. 

Pathetic , was what the voice of his real father had to say and his voice was the one Dean could never shake, no matter how hard he tried. You really thought that would work out for you?

He straightened his fingers and tried to relax his back, but the urge to hit something didn’t go anywhere. In recent years, he might have learned to control it, however that didn’t mean the anger didn’t have to go somewhere or else he might combust. Which was why after ruining a set of Christmas ornaments and a good few plates, Lisa had gotten him a punching bag. 

Dean gritted his teeth – that bag had Castiel’s stupid grin on it tonight.

 

Notes:

...I'm sorry?! Until the next chapter is up please let me know what you think is going to happen next! It is already written I promise ;)

Chapter 15: Fifteen.

Chapter Text

When Castiel got the call, it had been five weeks since their fight. Five weeks of radio silence. At first, he had felt too humiliated to try and talk to Dean and then afterwards the stubbornness had kicked in. 

What would he have even said? I’m sorry, I exploited your teenage trauma, because I felt threatened? Dean would laugh in his face and rightfully so.

He’d half resigned himself to just leaving the issue unresolved. It hurt too deeply when he thought about the friendship they’d managed to rebuild so he tried not to pick at it on the off-chance he’d forget about it soon. Because there was no way he would even touch on the terrifying possibilities that had opened up when Dean had taken his hand. 

There was a reason he’d kept that door tightly shut for so many years.

Maybe they’d have another chance encounter, where they could talk or maybe they’d transition to nodding at each other civilly without acknowledging their fight. Although, Castiel couldn’t imagine Dean had matured that much.

Either way, it didn’t really matter. He would be gone from Lawrence as soon as his current project was done, which was hopefully sooner rather than later. Which meant he could leave this whole crappy town, including Dean, in his rear-view mirror and never come back.

It would have been a great plan had he not received a call that left him severely shaking on his kitchen floor on a Thursday evening. The room was still spinning around him and the words of his father replayed over and over in his head.

His plan would have still worked out okay if it hadn’t been Dean’s number, his fingers punched in moments after he’d puked into the sink.

“Hello?”

Castiel could hear a rustling in the background, Dean was probably in the kitchen making dinner. He could almost picture him there, but the image was certainly not helping his nerves.

“It’s me,” he breathed, hoping he’d get through the call without throwing up again.

In hindsight it was surprising that Dean didn’t hang up right then. Instead, after a pause, he barked, “What the hell do you want?”

“I-”

“’Cause I can’t think of a single reason why I should listen to your crap after what you said to me.”

Castiel gulped.

That much he deserved. It hadn’t been a calculated decision to call Dean, but now that he had, Castiel knew he had to make the other man listen. Unfortunately, he needed his help.

“Would you just hear me out, please?” His own voice sounded awfully close to begging, but now was not the time to lose his momentum. “You are the only person I can call.” 

He gripped the counter so tight his knuckles whitened. What if his words didn’t mean anything to Dean anymore? 

Castiel knew he should probably apologize, but he didn’t know whether he was capable of that at the moment. Once he opened that door, there was no coming back from it. If Dean put down the phone now, he didn’t know whether he could drive himself over to his house to make him listen.

There was another pause at the other end of the line, then a deep sigh and a clattering noise, as if Dean was putting something down. “What could I possibly be the only person you can call for?” Off the top of his head Castiel could think of quite a few.

He hadn’t thought this conversation through, hadn’t thought ahead to the moment he would have to say all this out loud. “Luke’s dead – died in a car crash with his wife,” he squeaked out, before he could swallow it back down, with the bile that rose up. He had always thought he would be glad to say the first three words.

Another heavy sigh. “Look Cas, I’m sorry, I really am. But I don’t know why you are calling me with this news.”

Castiel forced himself to breathe. He needed to get through this conversation and therefore he needed to get the words that were threatening to get stuck in his throat, out. 

“He has a son. And… that son needs a home. You’re the only parent I know, who isn’t-”

“A psycho?” Dean finished his sentence and without looking at him Castiel knew his eyebrows were raised up to his hair. Then his tone turned more serious, “What are you asking me, Cas? If I’ll take him in, because that has to be the weirdest request I’ve gotten from an ex in a long time. Fuck, Cas…” 

Now didn’t seem like the time to correct them he was not an ex, just someone who managed to royally fuck things up between them twice.

“No, I-”

Dean cut him off, “I’ll do it if he doesn’t have anywhere else to go! Just make sure he doesn’t land in the foster system, you hear me?”

It took Castiel a second to understand the words he was hearing, to process the sincerity in Dean’s voice, making his reply a beat too late. “No Dean, I would never ask you to do that.” He never cried, and yet in this moment he felt like he could. “I’m asking for your advice… I don’t want him to go to anyone in my family, because… you know how they are.” He took another deep breath. “I’ll take him, but I don’t know how to talk to children, let alone take care of a three-month-old baby.”

His head felt too heavy for his neck and he leant it against the cold cabinet above his sink. He knew he had to ask Dean for what he wanted; he just didn’t know how to put it without sounding presumptuous.

However, Dean was good at taking care of people. “Cas, are you asking me for help?”

“Yes,” Castiel breathed, afraid to let on how much he felt that he depended on it. “I’d like that.”

He wondered what expression Dean wore standing in his kitchen. What Castiel wouldn’t give to have this conversation face to face and not over the telephone, but even if he could have driven himself, Dean would have slammed the door in his face before he could even get a word out.

“Where’s he now?” Was what Dean said finally and with that Castiel knew he’d help.

“He’s at my parents’ house for the next few days, but I want to make sure he gets out of there as soon as possible. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss things, so I’ll try to convince them then…” What he left unsaid, was that he didn’t know whether he’d be successful or not. Giving over their prized grandson to their most stubborn and difficult son certainly wouldn’t be their first choice.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dean replied then spoke more softly to somebody else. Castiel couldn’t make it out exactly, but it sounded like a very polite version of ‘Fuck off, I’ll be there just now.’

Suddenly he was glad, he wasn’t standing in the Winchester home with Claire and Ben in the next room over. He didn’t want to think about all the responsibility Dean was already carrying on his shoulders. A widowed man with two young children. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to look those children in the face and smile, while he was single-handedly turning their world upside down.

Castiel wasn’t stupid enough to think Dean’s offer was because of him, when in fact, it was literally impossible for Dean Winchester to abandon a child in need. There was a guilty knot in his stomach, at the thought of using this to his advantage, but it was the truth when he’d said Dean was the only sane parent he knew. And Castiel sure as hell could use any help he could get. And that unfortunately meant that Claire and Ben would have to share their father a little. He tried not to grit his teeth thinking about that.

Clearing his throat Dean got back on the line: “I’m coming with you. Text me the details and I’ll be at yours an hour earlier, so we can discuss what we’ll say. If you’re an ass about our fight, I’ll leave you to rot in nappies, are we understood?”

Dean definitely had scolding down to a T.

“Yes,” Castiel replied solemnly, secretly glad someone had taken charge of the situation.

“I need to go, kids are turning into savages and taking my living room apart,” Dean hesitated briefly before the next part. “We’ve got this, Cas.”

If Cas had needed to be convinced who was the better man, this would be the definite proof. Here Dean was already supporting him without batting an eyelid, when he was asking the world of him after insulting him in the worst way a couple of weeks prior.

His croaked “Thank you!” before he disconnected the call didn’t seem nearly enough.

Overwhelmed, he stayed put, trying not to think about the possibility of being a father in a couple of days’ time. Never in his life had he felt so undeserving of something.

 

 

“Wait, I don’t think I heard you right. You are where?”

“Damn it, Sammy, don’t make me say it again.” Dean had decided to put off his call to Sam until the last possible minute, but now sitting in his car outside of Cas’s building, he wished he hadn’t. He felt antsy enough already and now he was basically sitting on a silver platter.

“Wait, let me get this straight: you are sitting in your car outside of Castiel Novak’s house to talk about adopting a child together. The same Castiel who you told me a few weeks ago has chosen to leave your friendship , because he’s an asshole.” Sam pronounced friendship in a way that Dean decidedly didn’t like.

“If you say it like that, yeah, it sounds crazy. It’s not adoption though, I’ll only help out temporarily until Cas gets the hang of it himself.”

Dean let his eyes trail towards the apartment complex, where Castiel lived. It was made up of small, shabby studios – typical that Cas would play the martyr instead of putting his family’s money to use. If he were Dean, he’d at least make a point of gambling it away.

This was no place for a child.

“Sure, and you are calling me because?”

“I want to know what legal stuff to watch out for.” Absentmindedly his right hand went to his left ring finger, but then he remembered there was no ring there anymore.

“Legal stuff?”

Dean could practically hear Sam’s eye roll all the way from California.

“Are you going to help me or what?” he huffed. Like he wanted to deal with another stubborn person today. He needed to save his energy for later.

After what seemed like a minute, the other man sighed resigned. With a tone that was a lot more soothing than it had been before, he promised, “I’ll look into it and text you if I come up with anything.”

“Thanks.” 

That was good but it wasn’t all Dean wanted. He wasn’t sure what he was missing, but maybe he just wanted to hear from his rational lawyer brother, that he wasn’t as crazy as he felt. There was no way he could just ask for that though.

He so badly wanted a cigarette.

After a pause Sam asked: “What’s the kid’s name?”

“How does that matter?” Dean scrambled for words. “It’s a kid, who needs…”

He was immediately interrupted by his brother who sounded like he enjoyed that response a little too much, “Shit Dean, you are in deep. Taking in a kid whose name you don’t even know? Please tell me, they are not moving in with you?”

It was not like Dean hadn’t thought this over – he was busy enough with teaching and his two kids, it would be a nuisance to have to drive over to Cas’s apartment constantly. Castiel couldn’t constantly come to his place with a baby, besides Dean knew how tiring nights with a baby could be, especially alone. If Castiel moved into the guest bedroom, he’d be able to help the most. Even if that meant having to put up with his conflicted feelings and his anger for a while.

He hoped conviction came through in his voice: “It would be the most practical.”

There was a deep breath from the other end of the line. “Yeah, and also the most ridiculous. They’re not stray animals! Just be careful okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

Sam snorted. “Worked out great with your cats. Talk to you later, alright?”

Dean was too nervous to argue that they were not his cats, he only fed them occasionally. Fine, they made it inside the living room from time to time, but only because Ben loved to snuggle them. Nobody in their right mind would refuse a cuddle from time to time. And if he had taken one of them to the vet when they seemed ill, that was because he was a caring person, not because he was their owner. If he ever found them by the way, he would… Maybe he did have a problem with taking in strays.

“Yeah, thanks Sam.”

“I’m pretty sure, you might regret this but… Anytime.”

For the first time since he’d told Cas he’d take care of it, Dean allowed himself to breathe, while he listened to the dial tone. It wasn’t as though he needed Sam’s support, but it sure made him feel a little better about the whole messed up situation.

Better man up and go inside, Winchester , he told himself. There’s a little nameless boy that needs you.

Dean made it to Castiel’s door one step at a time. Mentally he had steeled himself for seeing his friend again, but it still didn’t prepare him for the cocktail of emotions that hit him as soon as Cas answered the door.

Of course the other looked put together and as if nothing was amiss, in his neatly-ironed button-up and slicked back hair. It should only make it easier to resent him - instead Dean felt an urge to get closer to him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said hesitantly. “Would you like to come in?”

Instead of providing an answer Dean stepped forward, forcing the other man to retreat. If they were going through with this recklessness, he would be the one calling the shots.

Glancing around, he nearly shook his head in disapproval: he didn’t know what he’d expected, but from the inside the apartment looked even more pitiful than he would have predicted. The Novaks were made of money so it surely wouldn’t have been hard for Castiel to make the place look decent. Dean could only hope that the kid’s arrival would make him want to clean this place up.

That was a problem for another day though.

Castiel meanwhile looked at him expectantly and it made Dean want to punch him. He wasn’t the one responsible for getting them in this mess and he still had to pick up the pieces. As a precaution he crossed his arms.

“See, this is how it’s going to go,” Dean announced, determined to get through his rules, before his anger could get in the way. “We are going to convince your family, you have the help you need, so they’ll let you have the baby. There will be no discussion of… you know what. You are going to stay in my guest room until you get the hang of parenting. We won’t talk about last time, because so help me, I still want to strangle you for that. And when you move out, that’s it – I’m done helping you. Alright?”

Whatever reaction he had wanted to provoke, Dean felt certain it wasn’t this. Castiel was still watching him cautiously, but his face gave nothing away. It seemed unfair that he was always readable as a book, while other people got to hide their emotions from him. His fingernails bore into his arms to stop them from twitching.

“Anything you want from me, Dean,” Castiel said evenly, and the statement definitely didn’t want to make Dean punch him less.

“I do not want anything from you,” he hissed. “That’s the point. I want that kid to have a good start in life and that’s it. And you’d better tell me his name already or I’ll have to name him something myself.”

For a moment Dean thought he saw something in Cas’s eyes, then his face slid back into the composed mask that he did so well. “Okay, then. We want the same thing. And his name is Jack.”

With that said Castiel turned on his heel and stalked through one of the doors. “I’m making coffee,” he announced from the other room, “So either you can stay in the hallway and brood, or you can come over here and have some, while we discuss what we are going to say.”

To say, Dean felt irritated would have been an understatement. Their last conversation, when Cas had let himself be provoked obviously hadn’t turned out in his favour, but he wasn’t sure, he preferred this indifference. It seemed like Cas had gone into business mode and then there was Dean, struggling to keep it together.

Besides, even though he had said they shouldn’t talk about their fight, surely he deserved an apology? Although he didn’t know whether he’d even accept it, so it was probably for the best not to dwell on it.

Brooding was definitely not what he was doing though, so he uncrossed his arms, heaved out a sigh and followed Castiel to what turned out to be the kitchen. For the next few hours he would have to constrain himself from ripping any of the Novaks’ heads off and a cup of coffee  would certainly do its part to keep his hands to himself.

 

Chapter 16: Sixteen.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay! I had a headache yesterday, which unfortunately meant I couldn't finish editing until today.
Also just a heads up, there probably won't be a chapter next week due to very stressful real-life-things. Never say never but you'll probably only hear from me in two weeks time :)

Edited to say: the next chapter will be um October 17th - I have just finished my board exams and feel fried, so I’m trying to give myself a break! There has been a bit of writing though and I’m excited for the things to come :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

While going to Anna’s for the dinner party had been stressful, driving to the Novak’s family estate felt like going to war. 

In Dean’s book they were well equipped: Castiel would certainly provide Jack with a loving home and he himself could lend all the assistance required for a first-time parent. In Mr. Novak’s eyes, they might have gone into a boxing match with their hands tied behind their backs.

The Novak family residency hadn’t really changed since he’d last been there and he tried to suppress the vivid imagery of being socked in the face by a grinning Michael, when he stepped onto the gravel path leading up to the door. He wished he could throw some punches now, although that would probably be counterproductive to their goal of earning enough trust to be able to take Jack somewhere this rotten family wouldn’t be able to touch him.

They  were wordlessly led into the house by a disdained looking butler. When the intricately carved doors of the dining room opened, Dean would have nearly laughed at the sight before them if he hadn’t felt so tense.

At the head of the dark oak table sat Mr. Novak, as always wearing a black suit and an expression of carefully posed neutrality. Above his head hung the large iron cross that Dean had always hoped might fall onto his head one day.

To his left sat Mrs. Novak, looking frailer than he remembered her, but with the same sharp lines in her face and watchful eyes, piercing through her black veil.

To Mr. Novak’s right sat Michael, the oldest, who for all his faults didn’t try to hide his distaste for their arrival. At least open hatred was something Dean could relate to. Anna on the other hand smiled at them, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

That left only Gabriel and as far as Dean knew, he was neither fit to parent a baby nor was he currently in the States so it was rather unlikely he would show. Which was unfortunate since he would have probably said yes to anything as long as it meant the family meeting would be adjoined as soon as possible.

If he hadn’t known better, Dean would have thought he had walked straight into the set of a mafia movie.

“I see you brought your bodyguard,” Mr Novak said without preamble. Predictably old age hadn’t softened him in the slightest.

“He’s not my bodyguard”, Castiel pressed out but took a seat at the table nonetheless and for lack of a better option, Dean slunk down next to him. He immediately had to fight the urge to fiddle with his rings. 

Had he been born to the Novak household; he never would have been able to quit smoking.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you, Castiel, but not under the circumstances,” Mr Novak continued with a pointed look. “And as much as I would like to give you all a grieving period but unfortunately there are matters we need to discuss.”

With that introduction he leaped into a long list of assets and property which were apparently listed in Luke’s testament. As he read it out loud none of the present flinched, even though Dean was pretty sure, every single item was worth more than his condo.

Finally, Mr Novak put down the paper. “Any objections?” he asked, even though his tone made it very clear that there were no grounds for any. Everybody stayed silent.

“Good.” He handed the paper to a man, Dean hadn’t noticed that far and continued, “The most pressing matter is Luke’s son, as you are all aware.”

If it were really the most pressing matter, wouldn’t it have been discussed at the top? The hatred Dean felt for the man hadn’t dulled in the slightest.

“Naomi and I are getting too old to raise a child, so I expect that one of you will step in for your brother,” Mr Novak said but it felt more like an order.

It was all so formal, it broke Dean’s heart – they were discussing a child’s life and the tone hadn’t changed a bit from Luke’s car, Luke’s houses or his money.

Anna was the first to pipe up. “Nathanael and I have discussed it and we would put our own plans to have a child on hold to care for him.” She wore a gracious smile as if she had just committed herself to ending world hunger.

Across from her Michael spoke, expression unmoving, “Of course I would also take him, however you all know, we already have three kids at home…” He trailed off as if that explained anything. Dean felt sick to his stomach – the conversation was perfectly civil and yet, he couldn’t decide who he wanted to punch most.

It felt like they were performing a court protocol.

His sister sighed. “Typical! That means I will have to step in, like always. Do you really not think, I have…”

“Are you even listening to yourself? This is a child you are talking about!” Dean interrupted, immediately attracting everyone’s attention. It was impossible not to feel small under their gazes but he couldn’t listen to another second of this conversation.

“Yes, I expected you to not know anything about duty, Winchester,” Michael snarled, completely missing his point.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “You are talking about a child – children should be loved and cared for and you are talking like all he is, is a burden!”

The eldest Novak son could arch his eyebrows nearly as high as Cas could. “Your care is touching, but who exactly do you expect to take care of him? Gabriel? Or Castiel? I don’t see any of them fighting for their nephew.”

Dean tried not to look at the latter expectantly and nudging him would surely be taken as a sign of weakness, but when his friend stubbornly stayed silent, he continued for him, “What makes you think Cas couldn’t take care of a child?”

He’d expected to be Cas’s support but not his sole advocate, when he was still incredibly angry. Maybe he’d made a mistake coming here. How could he stand before the family and present all of Cas’s best traits to them, like he hadn’t just seen the worst less than two months ago?

“Well, for one Castiel wouldn’t have a job if it weren’t for this family and he is not the most responsible,” Novak Senior interjected. “What’s more, a Novak should be raised close to family and he can’t do that from Boston now, can he?”

The man’s tone was utterly condescending and Dean struggled to breathe. However, it didn’t mask the fact that the first statement was untrue and the second… well, it might be for the best if Jack didn’t grow up close to his family. He might not want to defend Cas but if he was honest, he knew the other would be a good father - he’d seen him around his own kids enough.

He was about to retort when finally Castiel’s quiet voice spoke up. “I’ll stay in Lawrence for at least a year if I can have him.”

Dean was pretty sure he’d heard a gasp coming from either Anna or her mother. They hadn’t even discussed this back at Cas’s place and he was pretty sure it was the last thing the other wanted.

Undeterred, Cas went on, now listing the terms they’d agreed on earlier, “I will continue to work for you from home, so I can tend to Jack. I’ll bring him over for family occasions and I will consult you on his schooling and all official matters. Dean will bring me up to speed on parenting and I will provide for him as if he was my own.” After a beat he added, “I suppose, it would be to all of your benefits.” 

He held his chin up high and that was the most defiant Dean had ever seen him. Apart from the night of their fall-out, of course.

In the quiet that followed you could have heard a pin drop. Dean held his breath with everybody else, awestruck at his friend’s courage or audacity, depending on the viewpoint.

“I think we’ll all agree that it would still be best if I took him,” Anna chirped after a while, “What a gracious offer, Castiel, but…”

“Be quiet, Anna.” Mr Novak cut her off, turning to look at Castiel with calculating eyes. “I can’t pretend to think you’ll succeed but I would like to see you try. You can have him after the memorial.”

It suddenly felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off Dean’s chest. Novak Senior’s word  was law and nobody would argue with him.

Anna looked highly offended and he thought he heard her hiss “I give him a week” to her mother but even that couldn’t dampen the sudden feeling of relief that flooded him. Jack would be safely tucked away from these monsters.

Squeezing Cas’s hand under the table would have been too much, given the circumstances, but Dean sent him a small smile. He didn’t know what the next few weeks held and he was still determined to give Cas the boot as soon as he felt Jack would be safe, but for now, they were in this together.

Jack would be loved. Dean would make sure of that.

 

 

They barely spoke a word on the ride home and when he dropped Cas off, the other only breathed a thanks before fleeing the car. The relief he’d felt right after Mr. Novak’s decision had vanished into thin air.

For a while, he just sat in the Impala outside of Ellen’s house squeezing his eyes shut really tight and resting his head on the steering wheel. If he focused on breathing evenly, maybe he could push down the rising panic in his gut. 

It was going to be fine, he was doing the right thing – Dean had felt the same way, when he had heard that Claire needed a home back when Jody had called him.

Besides he’d done this before and he was good at being a father, at least that was what everybody else said. Yes, he’d still have to tolerate Cas for a while longer, but he could do that. He’d just have to ignore the little twinges of want and fury, and he’d be fine.

Breathe, Winchester. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.

The nausea rolled over him like a wave and the air he was breathing felt too warm, too stuffy all of a sudden. After years of living with himself Dean knew what was coming next, the quickening of his breathing, the white noise in his ears and the terror, the abject thoughts of failure. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. 

He tried toground himself, nails digging into his palm but that didn’t work. Nothing worked. 

Deep breaths turned into way too shallow ones and Dean felt like the world blacked out before him.

He was making a terrible mistake. He was a fool for letting Castiel into his house again. The pain was immediate and sharp like their fight had been yesterday. He was an idiot, an idiot who dragged his kids into this mess. He was… 

It was hard to focus on anything but the weight that seemed to press down on him. His head felt too light and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe.

Then suddenly, there was a hand on his back, grounding him. 

“Calm down, kid,” a gruff voice told him, but he couldn’t. There wasn’t enough air in the car. He was going to…

“Focus on my voice,” the other person continued, while the hand on his hand stayed right where it was. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it can be fixed. Ellen’s making dinner and we’d like you to stay for that.” The voice drowned out his thoughts. “You can stay as long as you want to.”

Without intending to Dean’s breathing slowly evened out a bit, but even as his back relaxed slightly the hand didn’t budge.

“Now focus on that breathing thing of yours and you’ll be fine.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Dean’s skin felt clammy and he could feel an imprint of the steering wheel forming on his forehead, but he didn’t lift his head yet. In and out, in and out. 

The dizziness subsided only slowly, but after a while he trusted his body enough to keep itself upright. He slowly opened his eyes. Next to him by the open driver’s door sat Bobby, who looked at him more than slightly concerned.

“I’m fine,” Dean croaked, trying to smile but failing apparently.

Bobby pulled back his hand. “We both know you’re lying, but I wasn’t kidding about dinner. So get your ass inside, Ellen’s better suited for this kind of conversation anyway!” 

With a grunt he got out of the car and headed towards the house, Dean following close by.

 

 

The past few weeks had been a lesson in endurance.

When he was younger it was easy to numb himself with alcohol and the occasional bar fight but early on in her pregnancy, Lisa had sat him down. The weeks prior they had been dancing around each other, strangers, all but for the weekend they had first met. There had never been the question of not having the child, only whether they’d be able to raise it together. The mix of emotions that had come with the situation were indescribable and all the confusion Dean had felt had looked for an outlet in long, dark nights.

When he came home with yet another split lip, that had been the final straw. “Either you deal with your bullshit, Dean Winchester, or I don’t want you anywhere near me or my son!” Lisa had screamed and it had pierced him to the bone. He had sworn to himself to never parent like John Winchester and yet, here he was, becoming him.

Dean couldn’t help the cold rage prickling underneath his skin, but he could try to control it. Since the fight with Cas, it had steadily through his veins and it had fuelled him to deep-clean the whole house, take up training with a fever he hadn’t had in years and hold long passionate speeches in class on topics close to his heart. Only late at night, when it was just him in the wide bed, Dean cried for what could have been and the deep bottomless pit had opened up under him.

Hugs from his children helped. He wished Ben were still young enough to hold in his lap for a while. Their laughter helped. The routine of now setting Ellen’s table with the same silverware she’d always used helped.

She was watching him with hawk-eyes. While surprisingly Bobby had always been the best at calming Dean’s panic attacks with his very own brand of nonchalance, if anybody would be able to untangle the mess in his head right now it was Ellen. There was one uncomfortable talk coming for him. Bracing himself for it didn’t help much though.

There were sausages, potatoes, and peas for dinner. Peas were Ben’s favourite and Ellen had apparently gone weak with time. It was the two of them that kept most of the conversation going, but even Claire chipped in to tell him about their game of Snakes and Ladders earlier, which she had apparently won by far. Judging by Ben’s sudden silence, it was true.

Dean tried to smile at the appropriate places and occasionally made small remarks, but every now and then he caught one of the adults shooting him worried glances over the table.

He hated that even now, he was their problem child. If he said that out loud, Bobby would tell him that all children were problem children, while Ellen would smack her husband and look at Dean in a way that made his insides squirm.

“I just worry,” she’d told him, when he came home from school with a busted lip. 

Her worry seeped through when she called him at least once every day to make sure he was alright, when he hadn’t been over in a while even though he lived only a few minutes away. Or when she cooked him dinner when he couldn’t get out of bed. As her oldest and not even her real child, Dean felt like he should have his shit together, but here he was, still living in the same town as his parents and relying on them for childcare amongst other things. All that made Dean want to cry and that made him feel even more useless. Christ, he had no business having another child in his home.

Only for a couple of weeks , he told himself.

“Dean, are you still going to eat that?” Ellen asked him and when he looked down at his plate, Dean realised he hadn’t really eaten much at all. He wordlessly shook his head. She shot a very pointed look at Bobby, who cleared his throat and suggested the kids should watch a film in the living room with him. Ben was already halfway out of the door before he’d finished the suggestion, but Claire eyed Dean warily. It was not the first time he’d nearly crumbled over the past weeks.

He hoped he sounded reassuring, when he told her, he’d just help Ellen in the kitchen. He got two plates into the dishwasher before Ellen crossed her arms and demanded that he’d better tell her what was going on or else. To call her stance threatening would be an understatement.

“Didn’t Sam already tell you?” Dean huffed.

“No and I’ll be sure to tell him what I think about that, if even you think he should have,” she retorted, “But you are not getting off the hook that easily. Bobby told me you had one of your panic attacks, so don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

“I-”

“You did something rash, didn’t you?”

“Um, I don’t know?”

“Well, I’ll tell you if you did, if you’d finally fess up to it. You know I can tell when you are lying.” 

She put her hands on her hips and Dean truly didn’t know what she was expecting. He was fairly certain it wasn’t the truth, but over the years he’d had to admit his fair share of embarrassing decisions to Ellen. Like getting drunk behind the bleachers at school or sneaking out at night to go to a party and walking into a tree on his way home, so one half of his face was covered in scratches. Or getting Lisa pregnant with Ben, although that had turned out more than alright. Or that he couldn’t sit at Lisa’s hospital bed any longer without returning to his teenage habit of smoking.

It shouldn’t be so hard to admit what he was about to do, but somehow it was. Maybe because Ellen would be able to look right through him and see how he still couldn’t take care of himself.

“Do you remember what I said after my fight with Cas?” he mumbled, because that was an easier place to start.

“That you were done with being friends with him?” Ellen’s eyebrows shot up, but her voice was even.

“Yeah,” Dean let out a long breath, “That’s not going to happen.”

Ellen looked very confused at that and as if she were searching for the right words, before softly asking, “Did you finally talk about your feelings?”

Dean’s head snapped up. “What feelings? Cas was my friend.” His face felt very hot. He hadn’t told Ellen about the details of their fight.

“Alright. So now you are upset, that you are friends again?” Her genuine tone in which he said friends made his head spin.

“No.” This was going all wrong. Why must he be so bad with using his words? “His brother died and now his son doesn’t have a home.”

“Okay and where does that leave you?” 

That was the million dollar question. 'In a mess', was the honest answer, which she probably already knew though.

“I went to see Cas’ family today and agreed to help him with the baby for the first few weeks,” he grabbed the back of his neck. “He’s staying in my guest room for a bit.”

“Oh,” was all Ellen had to offer at first. She looked at his face for a long time as if searching for something, but Dean wasn’t sure she found what she wanted to. Then she sighed and added, “Honey, I know you make your own decisions, but I really don’t think this is a good one.”

Her nickname made him feel small and safe at the same time. “I know.”

“But you’ve already decided,” she stated. 

There was no reply needed, she only had to look at his face for confirmation. Dean wondered whether his feelings were that blatantly obvious to everyone or just her.

“Jack needs someone to look after him,” he said instead of a reply.

“And my big-hearted boy decided that it’s going to be him.” Dean knew she was trying to sound exasperated, but the affection in her eyes betrayed her. It was too much to look at. “At least promise me, this is not permanent. Tell him a time and then get out of there before your heart gets broken, okay?”

Dean didn’t trust his voice enough to reply so he just nodded. Even though he’d like to tell her your heart can’t get broken, when you are not in a relationship, he couldn’t. Once again, he could feel the tears coming. This whole day was too much. Ellen scooped him down into a hug.

“You’re staying here tonight and then we’ll figure this out,” she decided and Dean knew from experience there’d be no arguing. There was a reason the house still held “Dean’s room” that had previously been “Sam and Dean’s room”, and “Jo’s room” had been turned into an office.

When they joined the others in the living room Star Trek was on and Dean pretended, he didn’t notice the silent conversation Ellen and Bobby were having behind his back. Instead, he plunked down in between his children, which made Claire shout “Dad!” exasperatedly, and gave them the biggest grin, before squeezing them to his sides.

There was another conversation coming with the two of them, but that was not for tonight. Tonight, was for voicing along the TV and embarrassing his daughter, who was too proud to admit that occasionally she enjoyed cuddles, too.

He’d be alright. If he repeated that often enough, maybe it would even become true.

 

 

Of course, Dean got talked into staying for breakfast the next morning, as that was the problem of going to Ellen’s. Dean couldn’t blame her though, he felt a bit sick at the thought of Claire and Ben leaving him by himself, even though that was still years away. So if staying for a frankly delicious breakfast was what it took to make her happy, then Dean always obliged.

When she hugged him tight in the driveway, Ellen gently whispered into his ear, “I admire your generosity but set some boundaries for your own sake.” 

She sent him a knowing look after they’d let go and Dean swallowed heavily.

Boundaries were not his way of doing thing but neither was generosity in his eyes. Blind loyalty was more like it. A stupid bleeding heart that couldn’t stand the thought of a little boy out in the world on his own. It should not be his problem. He hugged the container of last night’s leftovers tight to his chest.

Bobby’s hug was short but forceful and he didn’t say anything, even though Dean was sure, Ellen had filled him in last night. Idjit , is what he would say. Neither of them needed Bobby to say it out loud. What he was an idiot for, remained to be seen.

Claire and Ben each got their hugs and then he herded them into the Impala. His son immediately proceeded to prop up his feet against the back of the driver’s seat, probably leaving marks there. It was no wonder Dean had to deep clean the car every week. At least they’d eaten, so no snacks would have to be brought out during their ten-minute car ride. Or he hoped so at least.

Lisa had been on his case to buy a more practical car for years and in moments like this he seriously considered whether getting rid of her Honda had been a mistake. However, in his heart he knew nothing could make him get rid of Baby and everybody else knew that too. Even when his friends teased him to no end for it..

At home, even though he knew the conversation was inevitable, he still tried to calm his nerves by looking at everything in his fridge and writing a shopping list that would stock them for the next nuclear war. They didn’t have any produce left over, but he could probably make something out of the tins and non-perishables he hoarded. Sam’s kids would probably turn their noses up at whatever he came up with, but sometimes Dean wasn’t quite sure, his brother hadn’t replaced them with aliens. What child likes salad?

Then he proceeded to clean all the surfaces in the kitchen, during which Claire nearly stabbed Ben in the eye with a pencil over the eraser, so he had to go over and break up their fight before one of them got hurt. Ben cried, Claire pouted, and Dean couldn’t decide which reaction would suit him better, so in the end he rationalised that they should probably order food to avoid any other disasters.

How was he going to get through an emotionally challenging conversation with them, when he already wanted to pull his hair out?

When he pulled out the take-out menu from their favourite pizza place, Claire finally looked at him pointedly and asked “Why are you acting weird?”

“I am not.” Maybe if he stared her down, she would back off.

“We never get takeout on weekends, because you love cooking,” she countered and he couldn’t really dispute that. The only other time they got take-out on weekends was in the time just after Lisa had died and back then the days had all bled into one. 

Being outsmarted by his eleven-year-old daughter was just the thing he needed.

While he still thought about how he could possibly broach the topic. Ben was just following their exchange with big eyes until he announced, “Yes, daddy’s weird today.” 

Awesome, another traitor. He was not getting out of the talk now.

With a deep sigh, Dean mumbled, “Can you at least pick a pizza first?” He shoved the menu at them before they could protest and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. What he would have really liked to drink was a beer, but that wasn’t really behaviour he wanted to model. There was no way another Winchester would ever be lost to alcoholism. Gripping the counter, he steeled himself, taking a long breath before he got back to the living room.

After he’d placed the order and hadn’t even lowered his phone yet, Claire looked him in the eye with her arms crossed and demanded, “Spill.”

“Yes, spill,” Ben repeated gleefully and Dean had to try really hard not to roll his eyes. They had definitely spent too much time with Charlie or Jo.

“Well, you guys remember how I said Castiel wouldn’t be coming over anymore?” Both of them nodded solemnly. 

Of course, they remembered – Ben in particular had been very sad not to get to see him anymore. Dean had really jumped the gun on informing everybody about their fall-out. “Okay, so I was wrong about that. In fact… Cas now has a little boy that he needs to take care of and we’re going to help him with that.”

Claire looked thoroughly unimpressed and Ben just looked very confused, so Dean clarified quickly, “Mostly I will be helping with the baby and it is easiest if they both come stay with us for a while.”

“Why is the baby not with his parents?” Ben asked, fumbling with his fingers.

“Remember how Claire came to live with us when another family couldn’t take care of her? It’s kind of like that.”

There is no way Ben remembered when his sister arrived, but he’d sure heard about it, so he nodded eagerly. “So we get a baby brother,” he concluded, which Dean thought was a fair assumption, but not the point he was trying to make.

“No,” Claire and he said at the same time, but his daughter didn’t say anything else.

“They are only going to stay with us for a few weeks,” Dean elaborated, “And then they’ll go live in their own place.”

“Why doesn’t he take care of the baby himself?” Claire asked and sounded vaguely threatening.

“Because Cas is all alone.”

“You are all alone and you’re fine.”

Dean closed his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure, he was doing fine and this conversation definitely wasn’t going fine. On the one hand his son looked like he had burst his dreams by denying him a baby brother and on the other, his daughter didn’t seem to like the idea at all. 

This was a terrible idea.

“Yes, I’m fine, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t get help from lots of other people, too. You guys spend lots of time with Jo or Ellen and Bobby. And Cas doesn’t have people like that.”

Ben scrunched up his face. “Why not?”

“Not everybody does. We are just very lucky. But if you really don’t want Cas and Jack to come stay with us for a bit, they don’t have to. This is as much your decision as it is mine.”

Dean looked at Claire, who pointedly looked away. What he would do, if she wasn’t comfortable with his plan, he hadn’t yet thought through, but she of all people should understand what it meant to need a place to stay. But maybe that was unfair, since she’d only been a toddler, when they’d taken her in.

After a couple breaths she huffed, “Fine. I’m not playing with the baby though.”

Dean made sure to send her a big smile. “It won’t be for long,” he assured her and himself a little too.

Ben was the only one who looked like Christmas had come early. “We are going to be best friends,” he announced, then got up and ran up the stairs. “I’ll go look for toys that we can play with.”

“Don’t get too excited, buddy!” Dean called after him, but wasn’t sure his son heard him, “Jack’s still a baby and can’t play with you much!”

All things considered this was the lesser evil though, he’d deal with Ben once the baby was here. Right now, he had to make sure Claire was alright with the idea.He turned back to face her and dragged his hand over his face once. 

Why wasn’t Lisa here to have this conversation?

“You know you can tell me anything,” he started lamely, cursing himself for sounding like a badly scripted movie dad, “So if you want to, you can tell me why you don’t want them here.”

Instead of replying, Claire just looked at him. Then suddenly she scooched forward and threw her arms around him. “I just want you to be happy,” she mumbled into his shirt. Dean let one of his hands rest in her hair and hugged her back with the other arm.

He felt a pang of guilt at her even suggesting he wasn’t happy - it seemed like far too big of a concern for a little girl. “I am happy”, he told her and it wasn’t a lie. “I have you and Ben.” It wasn’t the whole truth either, but it would be, he hoped. In response she hugged him even more fiercely.

Then she abruptly let go of him. “Want to listen to some music?” she asked him and he gratefully squeezed her hand.

She hopped off the sofa to look through his record collection and he couldn’t help but smile. Claire might not be biologically his child, but she sure had inherited his protectiveness and luckily, his love for music. Not the same that he liked, mind you, but she didn’t go for her stack of CDs tonight.

He might not be happy all the time, but he sure was lucky to be surrounded by the people he had in his life. If anything, he should pity Castiel for not being as fortunate. 

They’d be just fine.

 

Notes:

So if you thought things were chaotic before... let's see how Dean and Cas do with a baby in the mix :D
If you are super perceptive, you'll notice I had to change the chapter count - I have planned the rest of the chapters out so it should be the final one. I just decided the story wasn't at a point where I wanted to leave the boys :)

Chapter 17: Seventeen.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They went to pick up Jack on a Saturday.

Looking back at it, the week between the family meeting and that Saturday had been a blur.

As soon as they’d left the Novak house, Castiel  had watched Dean change into 'efficiency mode' and by the time Tuesday rolled around, while he himself had mostly spent his entire time alternating between having meltdowns and watching videos on how to care for a baby, Dean had assembled an inventory list of stuff he owned and things Castiel would need to buy. Just looking at the sheer length of that list had made him queasy. How on earth was anybody supposed to figure these things out by themselves?

During work hours, Michael had been civil but cold and after work, he had received a number of texts from his family that either reminded him of his ineptitude or proposed how he should handle the situation best. Needless to say, they didn’t see eye to eye on parenting and in the end, after receiving a text from his mother that read “ Thank god the child is already baptised ”, Castiel had just stopped responding altogether.

The only texts he did respond to were Meg’s and those consisted mostly of indecipherable exclamations. Their last conversation had ended with her saying, she would get into the car and drive all night, if he did anything else as stupid as this without consulting her first and Castiel definitely did not intend to take her up on that threat.

While pushing a cart filled to the brim with baby food and diapers – more than he’d think they’d need in a lifetime, but who was he to protest the expert’s advice – he had asked Dean whether his decision had invited the same backlash. At first, Dean had looked distinctly uncomfortable but then he’d proceeded to wordlessly show him a whole thread of messages from Jo that got increasingly more insistent ranging from “ how am I the last to know about this??” to “ WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING ”. 

That had been Castiel’s cue to wince – of course Dean’s family would be concerned about his crazy decision making. It was the only time he had brought up other people’s opinions.

Once he had been over to Dean’s house for dinner in order to make the whole situation less awkward and to drop off some of his stuff, but in his opinion, there was little that could have made it more awkward.

Ben had not stopped telling him about all the things he intended to play with Jack, completely disregarding that so far the latter could do nothing more than sleep, eat and poop, while Claire had glared at him from across the table for the entire meal. When they’d all followed him to the front door, to his surprise she’d pulled him into a hug, but only to whisper in his ear. The hushed “My dad taught me self-defence so if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you”, shouldn’t have been scary coming from an eleven-year-old, but this was Claire they were talking about.

Friday was the day of the memorial. It should have been a sad day but instead it felt incredibly devoid of any feelings. All Castiel could truly focus on was his mother clutching Jack to her chest like her life depended on it.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Castiel was already exhausted and he hadn’t even had a single one of the infamous sleepless nights yet.

When he got into the Impala, Dean just nodded and quietly pushed over a container with toast and a fried egg in it. There were two things that never ceased to amaze him: One, apparently he hadn’t changed in almost twenty years, since two, Dean was still able to tell his needs with an accuracy that astounded him. It shouldn’t have been surprising, given he’d seen Dean do the same for Sam too many times to count, but somehow the effortlessness of it still did.

From the moment he woke up, Castiel had felt sick to his stomach and the feeling reminded him awfully of the times he’d done something wrong as a child and waited for his father to come home to deal his punishment. The punishment in this situation being the very real possibility that his parents had decided that they were going to raise Jack on their own after all. That was enough to make him forego breakfast altogether and Dean had anticipated that. Even when he was rightfully still very angry, Dean never ceased to amaze him.

“You’ll need it,” Dean announced and Castiel had no reason not to believe him. So he forced down the bread, while clutching his coat tightly with the other one until they pulled up in front of the house.

Castiel had had to walk up the driveway, knowing punishment was coming for him one way or another a couple of times.Without fail, his heart beat faster in his chest everytime he crossed it.

They were waiting for them on the doorsteps, standing side by side like in a painting – his father, his mother, Michael and Anna. A brief flicker of surprise crossed Anna’s face, as if she didn’t think they would show up but other than that, their faces seemed to be made of stone. It could not be more clear that neither Dean nor Castiel were welcome here.

“Castiel.” his father greeted him coldly, ignoring Dean all together.  They were not asked inside and Castiel was glad for it – his skin was already itching to get back into the car. It was disconcerting to stand two steps below them.

He didn’t know what to say but as always Dean stepped in. “That must be Jack,” he said and Naomi took a step back when he leant towards the baby in her arms. 

What if they didn’t let Castiel take him either? He swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“You can give him to me,” he rasped. “Then we can talk about the rest.” It almost looked as if his mother had changed her mind after all but finally, she reluctantly handed Jack over.

“Be careful,” she snapped as if the baby wasn’t the most precious thing Castiel had ever held.

And then Jack was in his arms, the tiny body bundled up in a soft blue blanket and it was strange to think that this was a whole human. A whole human that Castiel was going to take home and take care of.

“You’re allowed to breathe, Cas.” Dean murmured to his right and so he did slowly, not for a second taking his eyes off the tiny hands that were gripping at him or the large blue eyes seemingly staring into his soul. A moment ago he had been so caught up in looking at his parents and gauging their reactions but now… he couldn’t quite grasp what he was feeling - the best he could describe it was overwhelm.

“I’ll take the bag,” Dean announced next to him, holding his hand out towards Michael. “Is there anything we need to know? Anything he likes or doesn’t?” There was a beat of silence. “You don’t know, do you? You spent a week with Jack and were only paying attention to yourselves.”

Castiel could feel the anger radiating off of his friend. There were few things that got Dean as riled up as a neglected child and it seemingly took everything in him to stay calm.

“Let’s go, Cas,” he said, then started walking to the car.

Castiel only hesitated for a heartbeat before following him – talking be damned.

“Be here next Sunday or I’ll come over and take my grandson with me,” his father called out after him but the threat was only half as scary as when you were standing right in front of him. Not that Castiel would risk anything that could take Jack away from him.

There was an old car seat in the Impala’s backseat and while Castiel looked at it as if it was a puzzle, Dean had already crossed the distance between them to grab Jack and strap him in. It wasn’t as though Castiel had never seen a car seat before, he just didn’t know where all of the straps were supposed to go. He didn’t know anything about babies. His parents’ driveway was not the place to panic about that though.

They got back to Dean’s house, although Castiel couldn’t have told you how, since he could do nothing more than stare at Jack in disbelief. Dean got Jack out and Castiel knew he ought to ask his friend how to do it, because one day he would have to do it by himself but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

Dean walked to the front door, Jack in one arm, the bag in the other and Castiel suddenly wished he had something to hold onto as well. Claire and Jack had seemingly waited on the other side of the door because as soon as Dean looked for his keys, they had already opened the door and were looking at Jack with wide eyes.

“This is Jack,” Dean said and kneeled a little so they could get a better look.

Technically, Castiel knew he should step closer, be involved in some way because when all was done, it was him who would be taking Jack home but at the same time he didn’t feel entitled to interrupt their family moment. So he watched as Ben reached out to touch the baby’s face with Dean telling him to be careful and Claire trying but failing to seem unimpressed. He felt like he should soak it in, the first of numbered moments were Jack and himself could be considered part of a family, but he heart was in his throat.

It was probably only a bit later but what seemed like forever Dean got up and handed Jack back to Castiel. Then he announced he was going to put the things away and start on dinner.

“Can I hold him, Cas?” Ben asked and Castiel tried to remember all of the things he had learned about babies.

“Sure,” he said. “But we’ll have to sit down first.”

They did sit on the sofa, Ben holding Jack and being very fascinated with him, while Claire watched from a safe distance and Castiel wondered what they were supposed to do now. That was until Jack started crying and Ben hurriedly thrust him back towards Castiel.

“Why is he crying?” the boy asked and Castiel wanted to tell him that he didn’t know either but that probably wasn’t very reassuring.

He stood up and tried walking around, rocking Jack to get him to quiet down like he had seen in movies. It didn’t help. They had bought formula, so he rummaged in the kitchen for it, the whole time scared he was going to drop Jack in the process. When he found it, he didn’t know how to make it with one hand. Plus was Jack even hungry? He was still screaming on the top of his lungs and Claire and Ben were following him around with solemn faces, stressing him out.

If this was the way, he was going to handle things, it was not going well. His fingers were fumbling with the packaging and the panic he’d managed to will down so far, came bubbling back up. He wanted to ask Jack what was wrong but obviously he couldn’t talk.

What seemed like hours later Dean came back down, took one look at them and took Jack into his arms. Then he smelt him and left the room. Castiel had no choice but to follow him.

“Little guy needs a nappy change,” Dean explained as he lay him down on the table. Of course – Castiel hadn’t even checked. He flushed red with embarrassment. How was he supposed to know these things?

Dean undressed Jack – there were too many layers – and proceeded to detail every step he took while calmly changing the baby’s diaper.

“See?” Dean asked when he was done. “All better.” But he was smiling at Jack and not Castiel.

It was not the last time Dean knew what to do, while Castiel was lost. When Jack cried, Dean figured out what he needed before anybody else could lift a finger. He showed Castiel how to feed him, how to bathe him, how to dress him. Sometimes he even cooked them dinner but most nights, Castiel insisted on ordering them food since he didn’t know what else to do with his money anyway. On top of that he kept on working and the only indication that he wasn’t getting much sleep were the dark shadows underneath his eyes. Luckily, there were hardly any moments for Castiel to writhe in the guilt of having pulled Dean into this.

Castiel himself was dead on his feet most of the day but he helped where he could. While Dean was at work, he spent long hours walking around with Jack in his arms or lying on the couch next to him because he didn’t want to go to sleep alone. He managed to change his diapers and cleaned up the messes afterwards, got the temperature of his formula right and sang Jack the same few songs over and over, since they were only ones he knew by heart that were not choir songs. He changed Jack’s clothes and his own sometimes thrice a day and read him stories even though he wasn’t sure the baby was all that interested. If he got even one load of laundry done, it was a good day. At the end of it, when he heard Dean’s keys in the lock, he still felt as though he could cry.

There were hardly any moments to catch his breath and reflect on the situation or allow himself to feel but a few fleeting moments were seared into his mind. The image of Dean holding a baby, so delicately as if it could break. There were bags under his eyes and spit-up on his shirt but he looked down at Jack as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

And Castiel watched them in wonder, marvelling at how Dean’s childhood had been riddled with uncertainty and hurt, yet he had somehow managed to carve out this home into the world. Dean’s children were happy and to be a part of Dean’s family was to be safe. The scared, angry kid Castiel had known, would be proud, even if he wouldn’t believe it to be true.

Castiel ached for Jack to have the same stability, to be able to provide the same to him – he wasn’t sure that he could. By all means Dean should be bitter and angry all his life and occasionally he was. It didn’t seem to fester in him like it did in Castiel though, it came out in short spurts of rage but subsided to take care of the people around him. While Dean could repress it when he was needed, Castiel didn’t think he himself was ever free of the embers of regret and resentment that burned in his gut and he was scared to pass that torch to Jack.

When he looked at Dean, he believed in salvation more than he’d ever felt in church or during the hours upon hours of bible study. He knew he might be biased but if there were ever a righteous man, Castiel would think he’d look like this.

 

 

After a while things Castiel had never thought about in his life were starting to become routine though.

To keep the feelings of guilt away, he tried to take on more and more tasks around the house, even if he had gone back to working in increments of thirty minutes mostly. He tried to do their grocery shopping even if it turned out to be a disaster once or twice with Jack having a full meltdown as soon as they were out the door. When Ben or Claire needed help with their homework, he told Dean to stay put while he tried his best to explain. The hurt he occasionally caught in his friend’s eyes always managed to worm its way into his thoughts and he tried to do even more and sometimes failed.

Apart from that though, he liked living with Dean. He liked the smiles they shared when Jack did something funny. He liked seeing Dean with Jack and Claire and Ben, and he liked how easily his son seemed to fit into their family. Sure, Claire was wary at first, but she helped when they had their hands full. Sometimes when she thought nobody was looking, she even made funny faces at him.

Even Castiel starting to think about Jack as his son was new and exciting and at the same time the most natural thing of all. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before - to love another being so wholly. While he knew it would be necessary soon, he wondered how Jack would cope just around him. Was he even worthy of that role, when Dean was so much better at being a father than he was? He knew the moment was coming that Dean would tell them it was time to leave, but he dreaded it nonetheless. The constant uncertainty of when it would be was nagging at him and he was torn between making himself useful and showing Dean how much he was still incapable of.

On one otherwise unremarkable day a thought hit him. By then they'd had Jack with them for nearly six weeks. It only occurred to him when he turned the key in Dean’s front door, juggling Jack and the bag with his other hand, that he had managed the whole day all on his own. He’d managed to keep Jack fed and changed, had gotten him in his car seat and had run errands, all without Dean’s help.

As he smelled the spices from the kitchen and heard Ben babbling about school from the hallway it occurred to him that he could finally manage on his own, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to come home to a house full of people, wanted to share Jack growing up with another person, wanted to feel like the two of them were part of a family.

He’d had it at his fingertips, was living in the illusion now – and just for a second Castiel wished he could give Dean all he’d asked for, so they could stay.

 

 ⸙

Notes:

Thank you for your patience with this chapter! I have spent the past two weeks studying and my brain has been mush but now we are back to regular scheduling :)

Chapter 18: Eighteen.

Chapter Text

Dean was not a morning person.

Unfortunately for him, as his body was aging, it had decided that his mind wasn’t actually a deciding factor in when to get up. Which meant that despite having to console a wailing baby all night, he was still up at seven every morning, even on weekends. And evident from the snoring coming from his guest room, Cas could not only sleep through anything, he also didn’t share his predicament with early mornings.

He checked his phone – no missed calls, no messages – then reluctantly swung his feet out of bed. There was only one thing that would improve his mood and unfortunately, the coffee maker was located downstairs.

Like every morning, he opened each of the kid’s doors to dampen the morning anxiety; Claire and Ben were both still asleep and like every morning, for a second, he hesitated with his hand on the door handle in front of the guest room. Each time he debated whether this would mean invading Cas’s privacy too much, but from years of experience he knew he wouldn’t be able to go downstairs without checking whether Jack was still breathing. He always arrived at the conclusion that if his friend didn’t mind him coming in in the middle of the night to soothe the baby, he’d just have to deal with him intruding in the morning. 

Deep breath, Winchester, everything is perfectly fine. It was weird how quickly the additional people in his house became part of his morning routine.

When Dean cracked open the door to the guest room, not only was the baby breathing, it was also gurgling happily already undeterred by the horrendous snoring. Unconvincingly, even to himself, Dean tried to glare at him, when he tiptoed over to pick him up – why could he never entertain himself like this during the night? The smile Jack gave him as a reward for fetching him wiped away that thought immediately though. He glanced over at Cas but all he could see was a mop of dark hair sticking out, so he decided there was plenty of time until anybody else would be awake.

Reading was off the table now that Jack was awake so after changing him, Dean resolved to make a proper breakfast. It had been a while since he had done that and Jack liked nothing more than to be bounced around anyway. He put on a record in the background and to his own surprise he found himself humming along before long, swaying through the kitchen as he fried the bacon and eggs, stirred the beans and buttered the toast.

When he had agreed to take in Cas and Jack, he had resolved to feel miserable about his generosity, but the truth was this: there seemed to be nothing to soothe his morning anxiety like a babbling baby strapped to his chest. Before Jack, he hadn’t even been aware how much he’d missed this.

He was so caught up in his cooking, he nearly missed the sound of keys turning in their front door, but immediately Bobby’s gruff voice told him who it was. “Ellen, are you sure? We should have called.”

“Nonsense, I texted him an hour ago and he can’t hide from us forever,” Ellen replied, which made him wince as he remembered all the calls and texts asking them whether they needed anything or whether she should come over that he had evaded over the last few days. He’d known he couldn’t avoid her forever - it was Ellen they were talking about after all - but as always, his behaviour bit him in the butt sooner rather than later.

“Bobby’s right,” Dean said as he stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway. They didn’t even startle. “Look who’s here,” he murmured into Jack’s head, who had stopped wriggling and was watching with huge eyes as Bobby and Ellen approached.

The latter snorted. “As if it’s a surprise we wanted to see this little munchkin.” With that she smiled so brightly at Jack, Dean felt a little bad for not letting them come over earlier.

“Well, don’t get too attached,” he grumbled. “It’s only for a couple of weeks.” Man, he was glad, Jack couldn’t understand him yet. “You’ll have to wait a bit for the kids and Cas to be up, but I’ve made coffee and breakfast, if you’d like.”

“I hope you made enough for three more. Ellen has also invited Jo and that girl is probably on her way over right now,” Bobby announced before heading straight for the coffee maker without waiting for a reply.

Ellen had already started talking to Jack and catching his fingers, so Dean had no choice but to stand there and let it happen. He tried to suppress a sigh – this morning was going to be a lot less quiet than he’d pictured.

 

 

There was a reason he hadn’t invited his family over: Jack’s stay was temporary. As he watched Ellen cuddling him, when he’d reluctantly handed him over, he wished they would stop acting like it wasn’t. It hurt to see them so excited when Jack wasn’t his son and he’d never be.

His father had scolded him over and over for getting too attached to people. “It makes you look weak, boy.,” was what he said. It was what his voice still said in Dean’s head.

As Jo pointed out all the things, she and Jack would get up to, Dean wished it were true. He wished that the boy could really stay with them, that he was his son, but he was trying his hardest not to let that sentiment settle in his heart. 

Jack was Cas’s and Cas was not Dean’s.

The days with them went by too quickly. Children were not meant to fix things, Dean had learned that the hard way when Ben was born. His entire world had fallen apart when Lisa had called him out of nowhere with the news of her pregnancy and yet, he had naively thought that having a baby with her would mean building a relationship would be easy. Turns out there are more things to building a family.

Bobby had once told him, ‘ Family don’t end with blood, boy’ after Dean had thanked him for the millionth time for taking care of Sam and him when their dad had once again disappeared for a few weeks. Neither did shared blood make family. Having Ben hadn’t meant Lisa and him were a unit, building trust and understanding and a little luck had done the trick.

Giving Jack a good start in life didn’ mean that things between Cas and him were back to normal either. No matter how domestic it felt, in a few weeks they would disappear from Dean’s life for better or for worse.

 

 

“You look like shit.”

Charlie’s overly cheerful voice made Dean look up from his work desk. The pile of essays before him did not seem to get any smaller and more than once he’d had to fight the urge to lay his head on the stack already.

“Well, you on the other hand look peachy, I take it your edits went well,” he grumbled. “So, did you come here to bring me food or berate my looks?”

He sincerely hoped for the former, since he’d only had time to throw a banana into his bag that morning and it was unlikely he’d be able to leave his classroom over the break.

“Both,” she announced happily, pulling a paper bag from her bright orange backpack. “But you need an adult to talk to, so here I am.”

The implication of Charlie Bradbury being the responsible adult in his life actually made Dean snort and that was definitely an improvement from the vegetable state he’d been in since the start of the day. If there was any indication of how his life was going, it was that a woman in her thirties that ate ice cream for dinner and didn’t wear shirts without a colourful print on them had her shit more together than he did.

“What I need is some peace and quiet, and a good night’s worth of sleep,” he deadpanned nonetheless before pulling his pork sandwich from the bag.

“Being a new parent will do that to you,” Charlie grinned, “or so I hear.”

She’d pulled up a chair to the other side of his desk and unpacked the rest of the food. It was hard to be mad at her, when she had gotten him the best meal he’d had in a week. At the sight of the fries, Dean could have honestly kissed her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not his parent though. That’s Cas’s job.”

“I bet it helps to tell yourself that when Jack wakes you up at three in the morning.”

“Technically,” he shot Charlie a pointed look, “it’s also Cas’s job to get up and soothe it.”

His best friend actually snorted. “Yeah right, like the Dean Winchester I know would pass up an opportunity to get his hands on a baby in need.”

“Ew Charlie, that makes me sound like a paedophile!” Then a little quieter he added, “Which would be a very bad thing to say at my place of work, where I work with… children.”

She just rolled her eyes at him. “See, this is why we normally get lunch somewhere else.”

“Peace and quiet,” he reminded her.

In reality it was relaxing to have lunch with someone other than Cas, who he quite frankly didn’t want to deal with, two kids and a fussy baby. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to go out since they’d brought home Jack and he hadn’t seen Charlie in what felt like forever.

During lunch, she excitedly told him about all the places she planned to attend comic book panels over the next season and asked him to at least three of them. She wouldn’t let up either until he told her he’d consider it.

“Ben would love going,” she insisted and she was right, of course.

It was fun to entertain the idea of having as much of a no strings attached life as Charlie and it was weird to think that they were the same age. Frankly, Charlie’s life was much more like the one he’d envisioned himself leading at thirty-six than whatever the hell he was doing right now.

She detailed her plans for the next volume and asked him about ten questions, he couldn’t answer but promised to look up when he found the time, which at the current rate was probably never.

To her credit, she didn’t even bring up his weird living arrangement again.

He laughed and got through a meal without cleaning puke off himself and he felt much lighter like he always did when he was around Charlie, her talking nearly making him forget the itch he’d had whenever he’d gone to work lately. However, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it still didn’t go anywhere: as much as he enjoyed the alone time his work provided him with and Charlie’s company, a small part of him still missed the chaos at home.

He missed Claire and Ben, but that he’d gotten used to with time. His big kids were still at school like him, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he missed the baby, worried Jack wasn’t getting what he needed, when that was frankly ridiculous. Cas was there to take care of him. Hell, he even missed Cas, grumpy, sleep-deprived face and all. 

He was well and truly fucked.

 

Chapter 19: Nineteen.

Notes:

tw: religious trauma (I know I‘ve tagged the whole work with this but this chapter is especially heavy)
Also I keep saying this but just so you know: not my views on all of organised religion.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Everybody tells you about the exhaustion you feel every waking minute as soon as you have your first child. They warn you repeatedly and yet, it still comes as a surprise when you wake up for the first time covered in drool, when you hadn’t even registered that you’d fallen asleep. Castiel downed cups and cups of coffee and still managed to feel the tiredness down to his bones every single day.

And yet opposed to Dean, he was able to work on his laptop whenever Jack slept for a little while or when Dean came home from work and insisted on taking the baby from his hands. As much as Castiel loathed his work, firstly it had gotten him Jack, which was the best thing that had happened to him and secondly, he had come to treasure the times when it was just himself before the laptop and he could lose himself in work instead of worrying about his infant all of the time. Dean on the other hand, never really had a free second.

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Castiel had gone downstairs to get himself some water in the middle of the night, that he saw Dean sitting hunched over the coffee table. On closer inspection, he noticed his friend wasn’t as much hunched as slumped on top of a pile of presumably essays, fast asleep judging by the slight snores.

The past few weeks, he had been mostly grateful for Dean’s presence and the knowledge that he’d have never been able to do this alone had pushed down the feeling of guilt whenever it had threatened to engulf him. Confronted with a completely exhausted Dean, unable to fulfil his job responsibilities because of the baby that he hadn’t even signed up for, the gnawing feeling in his gut was difficult to ignore. Dean had cleaned up enough messes in his lifetime, how dare he burden him with this, too?

Castiel put down the empty glass and walked over to the couch. The very least he could do at that moment was not let his friend ruin his back by sleeping like that for too long.

Guiltily, he registered that not only was Dean sleeping in the living room, the baby was also snoring on the couch next to him. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d trotted out of his room sleep deprived as he was. With a huff, he noted Jack seemed to be fine and why wouldn’t he be; he was with Dean.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, careful not to disturb Jack, but the other didn’t stir.

After his third insistence he lightly touched Dean’s shoulder, but instead of startling awake, his friend slightly tilted his head towards his hand. In the dark Castiel froze. For a moment he held his breath involuntarily and shakily let it out again. Dean was asleep and there was nobody else around who could have seen them. 

God’s always around , a voice in his head insisted but he tried to push it firmly away. Nothing sinful was happening. Besides, how could it be sinful when he wanted it so badly?

His hand was still resting on Dean’s shoulder and the soft skin was so close he would only have to shift his hand ever so slightly to run his fingertips along it, feel Dean’s pulse beating underneath them. He could feel his own heart beating in his chest so loudly, he was convinced Dean could have woken up just from the sound of it, and his breathing quickened again. 

Temptation didn’t come in the form of lewd comments or provocatively dressed bodies – it came cloaked in a tenderness that made Castiel choke on it.

While he was still caught, unable to touch or pull his hand away, Dean shifted slightly in his sleep, so Castiel suddenly felt warm skin instead of the safety of rough cotton and it made him snatch his fingers back like he’d been burned - which in turn finally made Dean’s eye lids flutter.

“Cas?” he asked, voice still gravelly from sleep and unable to focus his eyes on him yet.

To Castiel’s ears his own reply sounded very much like a squeak.

Dean’s frown grew deeper. “What’s going on?” he mumbled. “Everything alright with Jack?” When Castiel didn’t reply immediately, he sat up and his eyes grew instantly more alert. With a look to his left where Jack was miraculously still asleep, he relaxed visibly, but the frown stayed on his face. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Even though the answer should have been obvious, Castiel nodded. As Dean looked down at the papers, realisation seemed to dawn on him. “Oh, yeah, I need to hand these back after the weekend,” he acknowledged and another twinge of guilt shot through Castiel.

There was so much he’d personally gained from their arrangement and in return he made things more difficult for everybody else. It was utterly selfish of him not moving Jack and himself back into his own apartment – it had been weeks of Dean running himself into the ground already.

“You should go to bed,” Castiel said softly. “I’ll take care of Jack.” He felt pathetic not being able to offer more.

Dean’s gaze was intense as if he was studying his expression. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take him upstairs with me.” Before Castiel could protest or move, he’d gently scooped up Jack into his arms without waking him and got up.

“See you in the morning,” he said and squeezed past Castiel and into the dark hall. He could hear Dean whispering to the baby on his way up and suddenly his knees felt so weak, he had to sit down. Not for the first time since he had moved into Dean’s house, he felt like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. 

Temptation is a nasty thing and weak are those, who can’t rid themselves of it.

 

 

The next morning, he woke up to rustling in the kitchen as usual. Castiel sighed – it seemed like another early morning for Dean, even though he couldn’t have slept much last night.

A glance at the clock on his nightstand told him that he had once again slept right through his alarm. With a sigh, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his woollen jumpers. When he made his way down to the living room, Dean was back in the spot he’d been in last night, simultaneously bouncing Jack and scrawling comments onto the paper before him.

“Coffee and kids are in the kitchen,” Dean announced without looking up. “I’ve told Claire to make them some toast, but it probably won’t hurt to have an adult in there.”

“You could’ve woken me up!” Castiel grumbled. “You know I don’t hear my alarm.” However, Dean just waved him off and he took that as his cue that he was dismissed.

In the kitchen Dean’s dad senses seemed to be proven right as Ben was currently trying to get peanut butter into Claire’s hair and Claire on the other hand looked like she was going to murder her brother while fighting him off. With another deep sigh, Castiel grabbed his favourite mug – the one with the tiny bees on it that Charlie had bought him – and filled it from the coffee pot. Then he composed his face to an expression that he hoped looked stern and not just sleep deprived and turned to face the two fighting kids.

He had hardly opened his mouth when they immediately started to simultaneously explain why the situation was not their fault, but he shut them down with a glare.

“Ben, go wash your hands! When you come back peanut butter goes in your mouth and not Claire’s hair,” he declared. “Claire, eat your breakfast and then you can go wash your hair.”

The girl mirrored his glare if not more viciously, and frankly, Castiel wondered whether they should be concerned with what ferocity she wielded the butter knife. If his own dad had been there, he would have made both children pray several ‘Hail Marys’ to repent – although they wouldn’t have dared to misbehave in this way in the first place. He closed his eyes briefly – and tried to remember that sternness was not punishment. There was no reason to feel like he was following in Novak Seniors footsteps just because he was now the disciplinary.

At 7:30, he went over to Dean and grabbed Jack from him, which caused the other to startle, nearly knocking over his coffee. Castiel’s pointed look at the clock evoked a string of curses that he hoped the baby was too young to retain. Fortunately, neither Ben nor Claire were around to hear them either, or there would have been some nasty new swear words in their next squabble. Five minutes later, the three of them were out the door, but Castiel had to run out after them with the stack of papers that lay abandoned on their coffee table.

The welcome distraction continued as he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and loaded the washing machine, but by then Jack had gotten increasingly fussy and refused to be put down anymore. Castiel walked up and down the length of the living room with him, sang the same three songs he could remember over and over and changed his diaper, fed him then changed him again.

Finally, after seemingly hours of crying Castiel managed to put Jack down for a bit, so he could get out his computer to try work for thirty minutes, if not anything else. He loaded his inbox and tried to assemble a list of tasks, but the words went blurry before his eyes.

Instead, he imagined Dean. Imagined mussing up his hair, feeling the warmth of his skin. Kissing him goodbye in the mornings when he had to leave for work. Holding those calloused hands that could make engines purr and babies stop crying. The intensity of want caught him unguarded like always, even though he should be used to these feelings by now - he’d only had twenty years to come to terms with them.

It always hit him like a wave, when he caught a handsome stranger’s smile in his direction at the supermarket or found himself staring at another man’s hands for too long. He’d felt the same rush when they’d had to hold eye contact as altar boys and he thought that surely, someone must see and stop the mass and send him to hell right there and then. They didn’t, but the tingly feeling in his stomach turned to acid on the way home and with it came the shame that covered everything like a thick, stifling cloak. Over the years, Castiel had gotten good at pretending, even as a boy.

Nonetheless, the moment he had laid eyes on Dean, he knew he was lost. The boy with the startling green eyes, the dazzling smile and the quick wit, had made Castiel’s knees weak, and his brain tumble over words. The stoic boy that didn’t like to talk about anything but would let go of his thoughts when they lay in the grass and didn’t have to look at each other, made him want to hug him and not let go. 

Dean wore his heart on his sleeve and Castiel was more relieved than ever that his was well hidden in his chest. It was not only Dean, but it had always been only Dean.

You are going to hell , he thought bitterly, and the voice sounded suspiciously like his mother’s. When are you finally going to accept Jesus? He didn’t know how many times he had tried to tell her that he had fought so hard and yet, Jesus didn’t seem to accept him.

Then Jack started crying again and he hadn’t gotten a single thing done and all of a sudden it was all too much for him. He needed to get out of the house, away from Jack and get rid of these… feelings. There was only one place he knew how.

 

 

Jo had sounded surprised when he’d called her but at the urgency in his voice she’d faltered immediately. Within a couple of minutes she’d been on their doorstep. She hadn’t asked him what was going on but her worried eyes had followed him to the car.

Like in a daze, Castiel had driven to the church at the edge of town. Luckily, it was close to empty when he stepped into the cool darkness and made his way to the front. The last thing he needed was for his mother to come up to him now.

He stumbled into the pew at the front, the same one the Novak family had sat in week after week and half regretted it. In the dim light that fell through the stained windows, it felt as though his sins were illuminated for everyone to see – even though that was silly.

God is good, is what he was taught in church. God will show you the way as long as you are living his divine will . Though he hadn’t lived through that experience, had only seen the limits of his benevolence.

Love and family were virtues to be praised and yet, his had never been. He’d been sent to Bible camp after what happened with Dean and had repented over and over for his sinful feelings and still, nobody had told him how to live like this. Stay clear of temptation – Castiel had tried. He had tried so hard to lead a normal life and had failed miserably.

It was like he had told Meg, he didn’t believe that God hated people like her. He refused to believe that he hated people like Dean. How could he when Castiel saw all of the good that man did day to day. But himself… no punishment ever seemed enough.

So definitely not for the first, probably not for the last time in his life, Castiel prayed. He prayed for these feelings to be taken away, tried his best not to think of Dean’s face while he was at it. He prayed for someone to tell him what to do, when the urges struck him and prayed to be redeemed.

Castiel didn’t know how long he sat there. When he got up from the pew, his knees hurt in ways they hadn’t when he’d last knelt before the cross and his chest ached like it always did when he allowed himself to think about everything he wanted in life.

The eyes of the saints seemed to follow him as he hurried down the aisle. Shame on you , they seemed to say, and Castiel wished there was a way to make them see that he was never free of that shame, even when he let the heavy church doors fall shut behind him. The shame chased him wherever he went – it wore the face of his mother, of his father, of the unknowable God and worst of all, it wore his own.

 

 

He didn’t go home straight away. Dean would be home by now and that meant the children were well taken care of.

When he had first met Dean, he had been introduced to the glory of driving around aimlessly. To drive wherever your mind took you and to let go of everything else. They would roll down Baby’s windows and let the cold night air muss up their hair with Dean’s music swelling around them.

It was not the same without Dean in the driver’s seat, but it still helped clear Castiel’s head a little. By the time he pulled into the driveway, it was already past dinner time.

His keys clattered way too loudly against the door and quiet greeted him in the hallway. They all seemed to be upstairs already. Castiel shrugged off his coat and shoes, before tiptoeing up the stairs. Claire’s room was quiet but from Ben’s, Dean’s voice was steadily reading. He smiled – he knew the book. How many hours had he spent reading “A Wrinkle in Time” to Ben or by himself as a child?

The door was slightly ajar, so he could peer inside carefully and there was Dean on the bed, Jack in one arm, Ben leaning into his other side. He had his reading glasses on and an intent look on his face, that made his face scrunch up a little.

For a few minutes Castiel rested his head against the door frame and just listened to the story, letting a peace he hadn’t felt all day, flood him.

At some point, Dean noticed he was there but carried on reading the rest of the chapter. Then he tucked Ben in, gave him a good night kiss and carried Jack out who was fast asleep. Without pausing next to Castiel he put that boy in bed too, only stopping when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Even in the dark his eyes flickered dangerously.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he hissed. “Taking off like that? I didn’t know where you were or what had happened!”

The words made Castiel flinch. Not once had he thought of Dean or sending him a reassuring message. His “I’m sorry” tasted weak in his mouth.

“Sorry is not good enough,” Dean huffed.  “Next time you leave like this, I expect you to leave a message or I’ll drag your ass back here myself!”

Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off to the living room and sat down heavily in front of the stack of essays once again.

“Are you going to do all those tonight?” Castiel asked in a small voice. All day he’d tried to outrun the guilt yet here it was again.

“Life doesn’t stop for anybody, Cas. And it’s the end of year so I really need to get this done.” He didn‘t look up as he said it.

“Can I help you?”

Dean snorted in response. “With grading essays?” He already had his pen out furiously scribbling as he talked.

“With anything.” It came out almost as a whisper and made Dean look up sharply. For a moment Castiel felt like he might bark a snarky reply or start to get angry but his friend’s posture suddenly softened.

“Yeah alright,” he relented. “You can grade this pop quiz – it’s multiple choice so you can just check the ones I’ve already marked.” He got out another stack of papers from his bag and Castiel settled next to him on the couch. He didn’t quite understand the gratefulness he was experiencing – maybe it was just to be allowed in this space, to be able to see Dean reading to his child at night, to be forgiven.

As they worked in silence, he occasionally snuck glances at Dean. The other man was concentrating on his work, sometimes chewing his pen. His hair fell into his eyes; it had gotten long over the past couple of weeks that they had Jack. If Castiel was honest, he preferred it this way – it made Dean look softer. The urge to reach out a hand and touch was back and, in another timeline, where he hadn’t rejected Dean and was less flawed, he might have. What did he have to offer Dean now?

Only this afternoon he had desperately prayed for these feelings to go away, but the truth was they still brought him so much joy. With the finite time left these moments  were numbered and if he wasn’t going to ever allow himself to act on his feelings, he had to collect them, so he could treasure them once it was just Jack and him.

The truth was even bigger than that, he realised now or perhaps he’d always known under the surface. There had been many small moments like this over the weeks that had accumulated, in which Castiel had felt his heart ache for Dean. They were like puzzle pieces that fit into each other until finally, they showed a terrifying picture. 

He was utterly in love with Dean and there was nothing - no amount of praying - that could change that.

 

Notes:

If you are a very attentive reader or are from Kansas, you might have noticed that the timeline doesn‘t match up with the actual Kansas school holidays. I didn‘t notice I‘d used the European ones until I‘d already gone through the last few chapters twice and as a recovering perfectionist, I‘ve decided to roll with it for now. So sorry, if you are bothered by this, you could pretend it‘s June instead of August?

Also the cute little twigs, I chose as dividers don‘t show up on mobile?! I apologize to everybody seeing little bland boxes instead - I‘ll try to work something out when I get the time!

Last but not least: I have updated the tags until now - so no spoilers if you are caught up!

Chapter 20: Twenty.

Notes:

The next two chapters are for the Sam girls - lots of family time :D (this was so long in the end, I had to split it in two)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

On the night before Sam and Eileen arrived in Lawrence, Dean was basically dragged out of the house by Victor and Benny. On his way out, he was frantically trying to list off all of the things that still need to be prepared for Sam’s visit, while Cas had smiled so serenely at the scene that Dean had half a mind that his friend had something to do with his kidnapping. Worst of all, he was forbidden to drive himself and instead they piled into Benny’s old Sedan.

Crammed into the back seat, it was hard to see how he would come out more relaxed after this night, but he at least tried to believe Cas could handle the house for a couple of hours. After all, time off with his friends was what he had wanted for weeks, wasn’t it?

At Harvelle’s, Jo waved at them from behind the bar and without waiting for them to order she started filling three beers. There were only a few other people in the bar and Ash was fine to cover the bar by himself, so after a minute she plonked down opposite Dean in their usual booth.

“Haven’t gone full mother hen yet?” she cheerily asked.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Victor confided, “Had to drag him here.”

“You guys should have seen him when he was scared our little Sammy wasn’t fine doing his homework by himself.”

Dean could feel his face heat up and threw a coaster at her just to make her shut up. It only increased her shit eating grin and unfortunately for him, Jo had quite the repertoire of embarrassing stories from when they first started living under one roof which she looked intent on sharing  with the group.

Luckily, Benny had grown up with three siblings himself, so he came to Dean’s rescue. “At least Dean here cared about your brother’s education – slinking off and throwing footballs doesn’t help you much with your grades!”

Jo just stuck out her tongue and the conversation shifted towards other topics. After the first few genuine smiles, Dean could feel his shoulders relax and actually participated in the conversation after a while. Music and his friends' company pushed the lingering doubt further and further away to the back of his mind. They got a second and a third round of beer and Dean decided screw it, he wasn’t driving and a little headache hadn’t killed anybody. If anything, the alcohol was going to relax him further.

The evening was going well until it suddenly wasn’t, and all Dean could think about was Cas and how integral he’d become to his life and how the hell he was going to untangle that. Inevitably, this was always where his thoughts ended up when they had time to wander, even though there was no solution to his situation, at least not one he could bear to think about right now.

His friends’ conversation shifted out of focus until he was abruptly brought back, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going out front to have a smoke, you coming?” Victor asked and the concern in his friend’s eyes told him there was only one right answer.

He just nodded.

The air was cold and the sounds of the bar behind them were dulled. Suddenly, Dean noticed how tired he was and that was really bad timing when he was gearing up for two weeks of non-stop family activities.

As Victor lit up his cigarette next to him, Dean automatically extended his hand for his own, but his friend just shook his head. “New parents aren’t supposed to smoke, don’t you know that?” Victor smirked at him and as much as Dean wanted to deck him for that comment, he also knew the other was right. It hadn’t been for nothing that he’d listened to Lisa going on and on how children were more likely to develop allergies if they grew up passive smoking. Maybe he should have considered that before he’d offered Cas his guest room.

“I’m not a new parent,” he bit back, but both of them knew he might as well be.

Sulking, he sunk back against the cool brick wall and tilted his head back. The smell of cigarette smoke in the air would have to be enough to settle his nerves for now. “You ever feel like you have absolutely no control over your life?” he asked into the night, not sure what good an answer would do him.

Besides him Victor just quirked an eyebrow, reminding him very clearly, he was talking to the guy he had bonded over their shitty childhoods with.

Dean flushed slightly and was glad the dark hid his embarrassment. “Sorry, stupid question,” he admonished, and Victor laughed between two deep drags of his cigarette. It was easy to forget all of the things Victor had told him about his life late at night, when you didn’t peer past the bravado.

“I mean,” he tried a second time, “things with Cas are going fine.” He swallowed. “But now Sam is coming and he’ll pick everything apart and ask me how I feel about it and I… I’d like to keep Jack around, you know?”

The corner of Victor’s mouth quirked up. “You’re a parent after all,” he quipped.

“Yeah no, Cas is Jack’s parent.” Which brought him back to the item at the top of his to do list that he kept pushing: talking to Cas about moving out.

“Maybe you and Cas just need to hook up, that will loosen you up.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to snap at Victor immediately. Every time this came up, he regretted drunkenly boasting about his lays a little. He could have gone his whole life not talking about them - they were just lays, it didn’t mean anything that they were guys. His throat felt like it was closing up. But this was different… This was Cas. Dean had shot his shot a while ago and it wasn’t worth risking it again.

“It’s not about Cas,” Dean insisted, “And I don’t do that anymore. This is about Jack.”

“Yeah, alright.”

With a sinking feeling he realised, Victor probably knew exactly what it was about.

“I just really want them to stay with me,” he insisted pathetically and could hear his voice crack on the last part.

Victor turned to look at him. “Dean, I know things are messed up between you two now but they don’t have to stay that way forever.”

“You don’t know that.”

In the dark, Dean could pretend the look he received wasn’t pity. His fingers were still itching for that cigarette.

It felt a little like Victor was assessing him before he finally replied, “Yeah, sometimes things are not in our control, and you can’t change other people. But you just have to recognise there is a whole lot of good right now: You have three healthy kids, food on the table, your brother is coming to visit you tomorrow and the rest will fall into place. And until then, we’re here to rescue you and drag your sorry ass to a bar.”

Unsuccessfully, Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It was a good thing, they were standing in the dark, or he would have felt the urge to hide his face. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Thanks, man.” He didn’t try to explain how badly he wanted to change people. Sometimes he wanted it so badly, it physically hurt.

Next to him Viktor had lit the next cigarette and blew some more smoke into the air. “Anytime, you know that.”

Once again, Dean tried to relax his shoulders and soak up a little more of the cool night air. Victor was right: For the time being he had three beautiful kids at home and even though Jack might not be his, it sure felt like he was. Whatever else may happen, he could deal with then. And for the time being, that should be okay, even though it didn’t feel like it right now.

 

 

By the time the next morning rolled around Dean felt no less nervous, regardless.

There were no messages on his phone, but he texted Ellen just to say he hadn’t heard from Sam yet. He pointedly ignored Jo’s text asking whether he had a hangover like an old man which for the record, he did not. His head felt a little heavy and he decided to skip the coffee for the sake of his stomach, but he did not have a hangover.

He went to the airport himself, while Cas stayed with the kids once more. If he hadn’t been so busy stressing about Sam and Cas’s first meeting after so long, he would have felt bad for leaving his friend with three kids once again. However, he just had to make sure that everything between Sam and him felt as ever and if that meant delaying the inevitable for a little while, that was fine by him.

There was a moment of confusion when he told the older two they couldn’t come pick up their cousins like they usually did and Dean had felt another twinge of guilt. Ben in particular had been very excited to show Eileen the new signs, he’d trained with Cas, but when Claire had played it cool, he insisted he had better things to do, anyway.

Unfortunately for them, Dean’s children had inherited his non-existent ability to keep his feelings off their faces. He was starting to understand why everybody could read him like a book when he was upset in one way or another.

The whole way to the airport he tried to distract himself by turning the music up so loud, he couldn’t hear anything else and singing along at the top of his lungs, but even that didn’t drown out his thoughts. It didn’t help that Sam still hadn’t texted him when he parked Baby even though their flight should have landed already. His mind provided him with several horror scenarios before Dean got to the board that told him there’d been an unforeseen delay.

He had a strong urge for coffee or nicotine or both, so he decided to screw being gut-friendly and get the largest black coffee he could find. As the minutes went by, he wandered the terminal aimlessly, tapping out rhythms on his coffee cup. It was even driving himself crazy. Every few minutes he checked his phone again, just to see no new messages from Sam.

The minutes were ticking by and he was seriously considering whether it would be less embarrassing to have a panic attack in the bathrooms instead of the arrival hall when finally, he saw the familiar head poke out of the arriving crowd. First, he felt incredibly relieved then a strong urge to punch his brother for putting him through so much stress.

Old habits also meant, he could tell that Sam was eating well just by the feel of his ribs when they hugged and it still made Dean feel relieved although his brother had long been an adult. Some things never changed.

He hugged Eileen and his niece and nephew, too, before directing all of them and their pile of luggage back to where Baby was parked. It required a bit of Tetris but ultimately, they made it fit.

“We really can’t wait to meet Jack,” Eileen announced, signing so fast, Dean struggled to follow in the rear-view mirror.

Despite himself Dean felt a warm flutter in his chest. “Don’t be disappointed if he takes a while to warm up – Jack’s very friendly but took him a while with Bobby and Ellen, too,” he cautioned, nonetheless. Only in his mind he added it might be the only time they saw him.

“I managed to convince Ben of me, so I should be fine,” Sam laughed.

Grumbling, Dean recalled the first time his brother had met his then new-born. “Well, it’s not like he was wrong being cautious of the long-haired hippie who walked through the door.” At least his son still knew what a haircut was and let him buzz his hair short.

“I like it,” Eileen signed and her wide, fond smile was unmistakable.

The rest of the car ride was spent with Robert, Sam’s oldest, telling him all about his new teacher and the rest of them excitedly interjecting when they drove past things they recognized. Dean could already feel his mood lifting – it felt exactly the same as always and even throwing Cas into the mix couldn’t take that away from him.

When they arrived Dean could see the curtain in the living room moving slightly – Ben peeping through the window – and by the time they were unloading the luggage the door opened and his kids ran to greet them, closely followed by Cas with Jack on his hip. Dean tried to catch his eye to let him know how their drive went but his friend’s eyes were trained on Sam.

“It’s so good to see you, Sam”, Cas said warmly before pulling the younger Winchester into a big hug. Seeing them so familiar with each other, Dean suddenly felt guilty. The whole week leading up to the visit, he had been so caught up in his own feelings, he hadn’t paused to consider that growing up, there had been many afternoons where they had looked after Sam, teasing him a little but ultimately included him in their friendship like Dean had always done. Maybe if they had actually time to properly talk, Cas could have told him about his feelings – then again, wasn’t their life enough about Cas already?

Cas let go of Sam only to shift Jack and clumsily sign something to Eileen. Dean did catch he was spelling out his name, but after that… whatever it was it made her laugh aloud with glee. The whole week Cas had been practicing their sign language along with the kids, while Dean had a little room to get his life back in order. Now he wished he had refreshed a little more as well – his reading was definitely getting rusty.

After they had dropped their bags into the kitchen, he herded all of them into the kitchen, where the chatter both spoken and signed continued while he fried up the burger patties. He half listened to everybody; half soaked in the atmosphere. 

It only hit him then that what he had looked forward to for so long was finally there – he was in one of the spaces he felt most like himself with some of the people he loved the most all in one place and Dean was… happy. He’d tried to force himself to relax so often, the peace he now felt had managed to sneak up on him. No matter the circumstances he’d make the most out of the next few days – right now, he didn’t even have to try.

 

 

Dinner was a success – his brother’s kids do eat something other than salad after all! It was absurd how much gratification one-upping Sam made him feel as an adult, but Dean relished in it. Afterwards he made everybody watch ‘The Apple Dumpling Gang’ for the millionth time, which by a miracle everyone let him get away with, and then it was time for bed and the last hurdle of the day.

When Dean was younger, he had never dreamed of living in a house such as his own now. There was a big kitchen with space for a nice table, their lounge was cosy with large windows overlooking their own garden and upstairs they had a master bedroom, a guest room and two smaller bedrooms for the kids. Throughout the year it felt spacious to Dean, vast even in the first weeks without Lisa there, however with four extra people, he’d suddenly found himself in a situation that could only be taken from a terrible, romantic comedy when the only bed left was for Cas and him to share.

Sam and Eileen obviously got their own room – Cas’s converted back to its original purpose-and the kids loved to share, supposedly so they could wake up at the same time. Of course, Dean might have believed them if he hadn’t found the remainders of a midnight party before.

So unless he wanted to sleep on the couch and forfeit his room to Cas and Jack, he had to invite the former to his bed. 

Was it petty, he didn’t want to break his back for Cas’s benefit? Yes. Would he regret his choice later? Also most probably yes. But what was a man to do? He even thought about suggesting Cas take the couch, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to do that. So shared bed it was.

They said their goodnights, then took turns taking Jack and getting ready in the bathroom. By the time Cas stepped out of it, Dean had gotten Jack in bed and had slipped under the covers and mercifully Cas had already put on his pyjamas as well. The last thing Dean needed in this situation was to see those gorgeous tattoos again – although only thinking about them and catching a glimpse on the edges of the t-shirt Cas was wearing, wasn’t much better and he had to forcefully tear his gaze away.

He should still be furious at Cas and in a way, he was. There was no universe in which what had happened was fair and there was not a day that went by without him replaying Cas’s words in his head. They still stung. He couldn’t even tell himself that his friend hadn’t meant them, because that was the thing with Cas: every word that came out of his mouth was deliberate. Every syllable of the sentence had been a weapon. What about your dad, Dean? Would you have been too scared of disappointing him? If the sentence haunted him it was because Cas chose to say it that way.

However, when Dean lay in his bed at night the anger that built up each day faded and was replaced by resentment and a want so strong it felt like it was going to burn a hole into his chest. If Dean had to choose, he would prefer the blissful ignorance of rage any day.

Beside him, Cas got under the covers and opened his book as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be sharing a bed. Dean granted himself only a sideways glance, but it was enough to make him want to roll over and rest his head on the other’s shoulder. Cas looked soft and scrunched his nose as if he was slightly puzzled at something and not like someone who would wreak havoc with his words.

Having what their everyday could look like dangled right in front of Dean seemed cruel. He ached for it, and he knew there wasn’t anything to do to get it. He had put all his cards on the table and Cas had swooped them off in one blow.

The warmth of another body under the duvet reminded him how long it had been that he had brought anybody home. Being still attracted to the man beside him, seemed like the cruellest part of it all. The intimacy of holding Cas’s hand was the closest he had gotten to physicality in months and even that had been unbearable to his friend. Scooting closer even in the resemblance of cuddling was unthinkable. Just as unthinkable as bringing anybody else home with Cas in the house.

Dean gritted his teeth and hoped Cas wouldn’t notice. Now that he was in this situation (and had set himself up for two weeks of this) he had to get through it like an adult – he wasn’t going to put up ‘The Wall of Jericho’ over his former best friend sleeping in the same bed now, was he?

Nonetheless, it was a long while before Dean fell asleep.

 

Notes:

I had to squeeze in ~there was only one bed~ even though it has been done a thousand times. But I still enjoy reading it, so I hope you do, too :D
Also out of interest (and because me and my beta wondered): do you think Sam‘s kids are team burger or team salad?

Chapter 21: Twenty-one.

Notes:

This chapter is on the shorter side but unfortunately had to end where it does - next week's chapter is going to be longer, I promise! :)

Chapter Text

It was hard not to draw the parallels between when Sam visited them after Ben was born. His brother had come around the same time of year, after his exams, when Ben was about four months old. Their baby that had been an angel before suddenly had a growth spurt and only slept for an hour at a time and Lisa and Dean had been knackered.

All of their doubts about the timing of the visit had been wiped away as soon as Sam stepped through the door. His baby brother had changed Ben’s diapers without complaint, played with him during the day, sometimes they even took naps together on the couch. Lisa had been so thankful; she had started to cry. It might have been the first time Dean had seen Sam as the adult he had grown to be.

Then when they had taken in Claire, Dean was scared Sam would treat her differently, even though rationally their family hadn’t been a conventional one once both of their parents had passed. He needn’t have worried – the two of them were out in the backyard chasing each other around in a tag game in no time.

Now with two kids of his own, Sam was obviously more experienced with childcare but other than that Dean felt transported back in time. Long hair or not – Jack had no problem warming up to Sam either. Sometimes, Dean just sat on the sofa watching his brother play airplane with this new baby and both of them grinning the whole time through. When he turned, Dean half expected to see Lisa watching them with a smile. Rationally he knew the situation wouldn’t have happened even if Lisa hadn’t gotten sick, since she didn’t want more children, but memories are funny like that.

Instead of Lisa it was Cas sitting with them at the table laughing at one of Eileen’s jokes and Cas making them sandwiches for their fishing trip, cutting each bread into perfect triangles. At night Dean shared the last words of the day with Cas and when Sam invited both of them to California, it was the first time Dean had properly felt like a unit with someone since Lisa’s passing.

Cas and Sam seemed to settle back into their old friendship with ease, which baffled Dean for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His own life had been turned upside down by his friend’s return to town, while his brother seemed to take it in stride. In a way, Dean was jealous of them – he longed for their old friendship, but the more he tried, the more complicated their situation seemed to grow.

Two weeks was always too short, but they squeezed as much as possible into it as always. They went fishing even though it was a disaster. The kids kept talking and running around when he told them to sign instead, it was no wonder they weren’t catching any fish and Ellen’s patience lasted exactly until the last beer was up. 

Instead, they built a large fire by the edge of the lake and made bread on a stick and s’mores instead of the pounds of fish he had imagined but it was fine. They sat around the fire until it was dark and Bobby taught his grandkids about the constellations you could see in Kansas when the sky was clear, like he had done with Sam and Dean many years ago.

They had several family dinners at either Ellen’s or Dean’s house with their friends dropping by that lasted until deep into the night. The kids were running around until way past their bedtime, having the time of their lives, but Dean was enjoying himself way too much to care. It was bad enough Jo had a lot of dirt on him, Eileen especially enjoyed Cas bringing in a new perspective on the stories of their childhood. They had been told a thousand times over the years but apparently when told by Cas they were still hilarious.

Fine, Dean was actually in tears from laughing so hard along with everybody else when Cas related the story of when the Winchester brothers had gotten it into their heads to steal some apples from a farmer’s tree and were chased off the property with a gun in minute detail with a straight face. Cas had stood watch and had been in stitches when they’d reached him, and they’d run for what felt like forever until collapsing. Sam had been sworn to secrecy and had only broken the promise roughly fifteen years later and Ellen had still been mad, even though they hadn’t even been living with her at the time. The story made Dean ache for the ease of those days – there had been hard times, sure, like having a drunk for a dad was no walk in the park, but there had been days like this, too.

When they were not gossiping about the Winchesters, Eileen taught Cas more sign language and he didn’t even look up when Dean entered the room. Dean joined them occasionally but also enjoyed the time it awarded him to sit with Sam and simply enjoy each other’s company. Over the years, he had gotten used to not having his brother around, but a childhood spent in the same room of seedy motels didn’t just leave you unscathed. Having Sam around was the most natural thing.

All of them took a trip to a local county fair. They drank mead and ate corn on the cob and Jo took all of the kids to shoot some hoops, then proceeded to win by a fair bit. They even managed to squeeze in a reunion match of Jedi Master between the original four contestants, which was glorious and ended in everybody shouting.

As always, the two weeks passed by far too quickly. When you were a child summers seemed to last forever but as an adult, Dean felt like time was running through his fingers until he’d have to count down the days until Sam’s next visit.

Right now, his house was full, but it wasn’t too long until it would be just Cas, him and the kids again and they’d go back to whatever dance they were doing before. He flip flopped between wanting to enjoy the moment and needing a break to breathe through the inner turmoil every few minutes and frankly, it was exhausting.

On the last night of the visit, he was standing in the kitchen, a headache already forming. He never wanted his brother to leave but this time around it was more than that and he was half toying with the idea of begging Sam to stay.

He only permitted himself a few short minutes of staring into the abyss – there was too much precious time to lose. Turning around to face the madness again, Dean nearly dropped his glass of water. “Jesus, Sam, warn a guy before you barge into his kitchen!”

In his kitchen’s door frame Sam looked like he was seizing him up, determined to talk to him and every instinct in Dean told him to run out of the room. The alternative however, was going back out into the hell of six children turning his living room into a war zone and he didn’t want to be sucked into that either. Eileen was much better suited to ignoring the deafening screams.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded his brother instead. Better to get it over with quickly. Avoiding matters had never worked for long anyway.

“Are you planning on telling me about your relationship any time soon or are we just going to keep on pretending until we leave?”

Avoidance looked a whole lot more promising from the other side of that question. Dean’s mind grinded to a halt and his mouth went dry, just trying to come up with a reply. Even if he did have a secret relationship, he wouldn’t have known how to answer that question. Therefore, it was no surprise that the only thing that left his mouth was an unintelligible “uhm”.

Sam’s bitch face at that wasn’t a surprise either. “Dean,” he said in a tone dangerously close to scolding. “Over the last few days I’ve seen Cas steal a strip of bacon off your plate, he brought you coffee in bed twice and this morning he took the impala’s keys out of your back pocket. Do you think I’m stupid?”

The pointed look was definitely unsettling. “I was holding Jack this morning, so I couldn’t grab them myself,” he argued, because of course that was the thing that was most important for him to say. Christ.

“Right, your definitely-not-son.”

“He’s not… he’s Cas’s son.”

“Sure,” Sam chided. He looked just as murderous as when Dean had denied liking Taylor Swift's music after being caught in the act. “Dean, I have eyes – I just don’t know why you won’t tell me. I was in our school’s GSA, why would I care?”

“Uhm, maybe because I’m not fucking dating Cas? And I’m…”

“Straight?” Even over thirty Sam’s eye roll was still unbeatable.

Dean rubbed his face. He could never outright lie to Sam; he just didn’t think he’d ever be put in this situation. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and braced himself. “No, I’m not.” The nausea was overwhelming, so he didn’t dare open his eyes. There was still an important part to add, “But I’m not dating Cas.”

“Well, you should be.”

Dean’s eyes shot open. “That’s what you have to say?” he asked.

“Would you rather go into why you felt like you couldn’t tell me?”, Sam inquired sweetly and in that moment, Dean could have punched him, but in a good way. The nausea slowly left his body but left behind this jitteriness and suddenly, he didn’t feel like he could stand any longer. He sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Thought so,” Sam continued like Dean had not just spilled the biggest secret of his life. “So why are you not dating him then? You guys are like married without the benefits or something.”

It was not that Sam was wrong, there was just no way Cas would ever date someone like him, even if both of them ever got over all of their issues. Plus, he had tried. So instead of telling the truth, he took the easy way out, “Cas is not gay.”

Sam actually snorted. “Tell that to the version of him who stared longingly at your back, while you fried eggs this morning.”

It was really not the time to blush, but Dean could embarrassingly feel the heat rising in his cheeks. However, his spirit dampened immediately when he remembered he now would have to tell Sam the real reason Cas and him was off the table. Why could his brother not just ignore his lies like they were a normal family?

Alright, the real, stupid reason in all its glory. The reason Dean could only hide from for so long until his domestic fantasyland broke apart. He sighed and steeled himself for the second time.

“Fine, I don’t know whether you remember, but his family… he’s very religious and believes it is a sin and looked like he would smite me on the spot last time I brought it up.”

At least that shut Sam up. Then he cautiously stepped closer to sit on the opposite side of the table. “I’m really sorry,” he said and Dean had to look away to hide the tears starting to well up in his eyes. This was exactly why he didn’t talk about feelings and didn’t hug it out.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispered and that somehow felt like the biggest admission of all of them.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Sam continued, his eyes carefully trained on Dean, “but maybe you have to talk to him. And maybe,” - he hesitated before pushing on - “Maybe, Cas needs to move out. Sometimes you have to protect yourself even when it hurts.”

Dean’s heart ached – it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to man up to do that for a while now. His little brother was too smart for his own good. His throat felt too tight to speak but he nodded.

“But for the record,” Sam added, “I still like Cas. So for what it’s worth, it might be an option to see a therapist. Don’t pull that face, you’d benefit from that too and it seems like you work well together.”

The ache only grew. A big part of him still wanted to run, but another smaller part felt so much gratitude for his little brother and that he was still there to give him unasked for but necessary advice. So instead of fumbling his way through a reply, Dean got up and squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he rasped. He wiped at his eyes, hoping Sam hadn’t seen the tears threatening to fall, even though that was highly unlikely and given he’d just bared his soul didn’t feel that relevant. So fuck it.

He turned to go check on the kids, because coming to think of it, that definitely felt like the lesser evil compared to what he had just gone through.

 

Chapter 22: Twenty-two.

Notes:

Thank you for your patience! Starting a new job has been very stressful and I wanted this chapter to be perfect, so I didn't feel like it would have gotten the time it deserved last week.
So now I'm very nervous and excited for you to read this and please tell me what you think at the end!

Chapter Text

By the time Sam and Eileen left, their house was a mess and everyone was exhausted. Winchester goodbyes always ended in tears which led to embarrassment from everyone involved, and if he weren’t so tired and if Jack didn’t fuss on his hip the whole way through, Castiel might have found it entertaining. Or endearing, even.

By a miracle, Eileen did eventually manage to herd her bunch of the Winchesters through the gate and Castiel  somehow convinced Dean that staring at the door they'd just gone through wouldn't do him any good, so they could go home. Yes, Sam had said at least five times that he would call when they landed. No, they didn’t have to cook, there would still be leftovers in their fridge for a week.

Getting three sleep-deprived children into bed after dinner was a whole other beast, and by the time Castiel had finally managed to sing Jack to sleep and read three bedtime stories to Ben, because the boy insisted, he wasn’t tired, even though his eyes were clearly drooping, Dean was already nearly done washing up in the kitchen.

He took a moment to watch Dean’s back, trying to work up the courage to speak. The clinking of the dishes was nearly meditative. Maybe this was a bad time, maybe he should wait until Dean had recovered from his brother leaving for California. Or maybe it was a bad idea altogether – maybe he should wait until Dean came to him instead and brought up Sam and his conversation himself.

“Cas, I know you are staring at my incredibly handsome form doing the dishes,” Dean teased without turning, startling him.

Castiel swallowed heavily. Now or never. “Dean, we have to talk”

At that, Dean did turn around, hands still dripping wet. He wiped his forehead leaving a stripe of soap that Castiel itched to wipe off. “Not right now, we don’t.”

“Dean, please.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last six months and you blocked my attempts every single time. But now you want to talk, so I don’t get a say anymore?” Dean had crossed his arms and Castiel felt like he was going to be sick.

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because I’ve been busting my ass for you and I deserve some sleep.”

Now or never. “I know that.”

“Good.”

This conversation was definitely not going as planned. Dean was tired, he could see that, and he felt like he could fall asleep on the spot himself. He had rehearsed the words he wanted to say a thousand times in his head, but now his tongue didn’t want to cooperate to say any of it out loud. But if he didn’t get the words out now, then he didn’t know when he’d get the next chance to and he needed to say them. Needed Dean to hear them.

Castiel tried to swallow the dread once more. 

“Have you… have you ever prayed to be different?” Even to his own ears his voice sounded small and pathetic. Those were not the words he’d wanted to start with.

For a second Dean didn’t answer but only looked at him with exhaustion and reluctant resignation written plainly on his face. “Cas, you know I have.”

“But did you ever believe that there was someone there to listen and maybe to make you… better?”

“No.” The admission made Dean look nearly guilty and Castiel hated himself for dragging him down with him.

His next words came out rushed: “Well, I did. And you know what? It didn’t change a fucking thing.” A bitter smile made its way onto his lips, twisted at his gut. “I prayed for hours and still… I’m still like that. And I still look at you and…” His treacherous voice broke.

“Cas…”

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to steel himself against the sudden softness in Dean’s voice. He needed to say the words. “No, let me say it. I look at you and… I see things that I know I can’t have. That I don’t deserve because I did nothing but sin. I- “

Dean didn’t even let him finish, “That’s some bullshit! You fucked up, yeah, but you didn’t sin . And I gotta talk to whoever told you that.”

“Nobody had to tell me that, Dean. You don’t know what I did.”

The images came flooding back uninvited and made Castiel feel very, very small. Nobody had to tell him that, but they did. His father, Michael, his mother, his priest, Daphne.

“Then tell me. Tell me and I promise you, I still won’t think different.”

I know what you are , Daphne had stammered eyes wide. You need to get help . Castiel’s heart had been racing at a hundred miles per hour, just like it did now. Every last person who had found out had treated him differently.

Suddenly he had to sit down, as if the weight of it all was pushing him down and Dean abandoned the dishes to plop down into the chair across from him.

“Do you know what happened after I left?” Castiel asked quietly, knowing full well that Dean didn’t and couldn’t know.

Dean swallowed. “No.”

Castiel thought of the pile of unopened letters that had waited for him on his desk when he came back to the Novak house after a couple of weeks. He thought about how his father had pointed at them accusatively as if they were proof of anything. He thought about the way his heart had twisted when he had watched as they were thrown into the fire one by one to crumple to ash, words unread. If any had arrived after that, he was sure they’d suffered the same fate.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispered, like that changed anything.

He could see Dean was fighting to stay calm – there were answers, Castiel had to finally give him.

“I figured that,” Dean said, “You could have still reached out to me, man. I was here the whole time, where the fuck were you?” It wasn’t said with malice, but it still cut to the bone.

This was it. “I was at church camp to, uhm, cure me.”

Dean didn’t have to ask what he needed to be cured of, the hurt in his eyes told Castiel over the years, he had pieced together exactly what had been implied that evening.

“It wasn’t like that”, Dean insisted, voice a little rough, and it hadn’t been.

They had made quite the pair back then: Dean in his dad’s oversized leather jacket, with his silver rings and his cocky smile never far from his lips, and Castiel the golden boy in his pristine white shirts that never stayed that way, a small cross always tucked tidily out of sight, and his pensive looks that could bore through concrete. 

Even though they had gone to separate schools, afterwards they’d meet up to drive around in the Impala, climb into old, abandoned buildings or over fences to explore the farmland, and sometimes they’d go for a swim in the lakes. There was little Dean couldn’t convince him to do.

Most importantly though they had talked for hours on end, and when they didn’t look at each other but heard the other’s breathing, it was the only time Castiel felt like he could say anything. He sincerely hoped that God was too preoccupied to listen to two teenage boys as irrelevant as him, but afterwards he prayed for forgiveness just in case.

That was all it had been – a wonderful, life-changing friendship. At least until Castiel had realised that there was no one that made his heart beat like Dean did. That when Dean smiled, it felt as though the whole world glowed around them. That no matter how hard he tried to replicate the feeling with a girl, it just didn’t come.

So Castiel had squashed it down and hoped Dean wouldn’t notice when he looked at him for a beat too long, laughed at his jokes a little too loud. Until the night that changed everything, he thought he had done a good enough job.

“It was like that for me,” Castiel confessed now, because they were past lying. If there was anything they could salvage, it was only through telling the truth. It felt like the most honest confession he'd ever made.

Across from him Dean exhaled sharply. “I punched Michael because I was angry, he would even think that of us.”

Castiel could still see it clearly, as if it hadn’t been so many years.

Dean and him running towards his house because they had lost track of time and had long passed the holy curfew of seven pm. His whole family standing on the doorstep of the house, much like they had when they had fetched Jack. His father looking down on them as if passing judgement and him ordering: “This stops now, Castiel.” 

The overwhelming panic that had risen up Castiel’s throat. Michael sneering, “No more kissing after school, little brother.” Dean’s fist coming out of nowhere before Castiel could tell him to stop letting them provoke him and landing squarely on his big brother’s nose. 

Michael smiling so wide the blood stained his teeth. “Do you need lover boy to protect you, Castiel?” The look Dean had thrown him when he had remained silent in turn. Then his friend had another go at Michael, who looked like he was enjoying himself immensely, until Mr Novak’s icy voice had cut through everything. 

“Enough.”

Castiel should have known then that Dean would do anything for him. This boy with a split lip looked like he would fight the whole world for his friend’s honour. Instead, he had felt ashamed – if even his father could see it, then Dean must have known, too. And here he was throwing punches at anybody who would even insinuate them being gay. Castiel had been so careful to hide and yet, it still hadn’t been enough. He was sin and he was making the person that meant most to him a sinner, too.

By the solemn look Dean was giving him, he remembered everything just as well.

“I thought I was helping you,” Dean rasped. “Took me a few years to figure out I felt personally threatened. Guess it was too late then.” He shrugged. “Thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me then, Ivy League and all that.”

If it weren’t so heartbreaking, Castiel would have laughed at the irony. “I thought you found me gross.”

“I could never think of you as gross, Cas.”

Those words hung between them for a while, as Dean seemed to be gathering the strength to say something else. Finally he stated, “If that is where you sinned, then I’m guilty as heck too, Cas. Hell, I know this is not what you want to hear, but I fucked guys in restrooms once I figured it out. I’m the seedy one.”

When you knew shame intimately, like Castiel did, it wasn’t hard to see it in others, too. 

Rationally, there was no shame in taking one’s pleasure when one pleased and still, Dean’s hook-ups had the same twinge of secrecy that his own thoughts had. No one could absolve Dean of it but himself. Plus, Castiel hadn’t even gotten to all of the wrong he had done to Daphne.

“That’s not all of it,” he admitted out loud. He didn’t know where to really begin, how he could make Dean understand the gravity. He didn’t think his friend would understand the importance of the glances he shared with other men, the flirting he’d allowed. To Dean it must seem harmless and yet, to Castiel those were the forebodings of a tide that threatened to sweep him up and under. He should start with Daphne.

“Daphne was my wife”, he announced and watched Dean’s face contorting in a pained emotion, he couldn’t quite grasp. Whether it was because he had never mentioned her or because she was very obviously a woman, he didn’t know. He pressed on because he had to. “She was… nice and went to Church every Sunday. My pastor in Boston talked to her father and we were deemed a good fit.”

Nice wasn’t a good enough word to describe her. Daphne was the soft kind of pretty, had taken care of him, had told him about the kind God she'd been taught of as a kid. She’d cooked the most spectacular stews and had been devoted to their marriage. Even when things didn’t go as well in their marital bed, she was graceful. This was where the detachment he had carefully built up whenever he thought of her began to crack.

“We were having problems in the… Well, I didn’t think about her like that. So our marriage wasn’t… fruitful so to speak.”

 It hadn’t been for want of trying. It’s what God wants us to do , Daphne had told him over and over again, when he had tried to lie to her that it was hard for him to let go of chastity.

“Then there was Fergus. He came to our church after he had moved to Boston from Scotland.” Castiel closed his eyes. “He was… gorgeous. We didn’t even do anything, just spent time together and went to get coffee and that kind of thing.”

Sometimes their hands touched almost by accident and Castiel had felt electrified and talking with low voices had felt like the most intimate thing of them all.

“One night, Daphne was waiting for me after we’d met and… she said, she knew what I was. Dean… she looked at me like… like I was the devil himself. I… I dishonoured her and shamed her and for what? For something I knew was disgusting.”

Thankfully Dean remained silent, even though Castiel knew from his light twitching that he didn’t agree. The hurt hadn’t dulled, he had just put it away to an untouched corner of his mind. He had never in his life been looked at with such horror like that night with Daphne. She had gripped the kitchen counter as if she was hanging on for dear life and had winced when he had tried to step closer. 

Castiel hadn’t tried to explain – lying about it wouldn’t make him less guilty. In that moment it had all been over. Dean was watching him gravely as he gathered his strength to continue because the story wasn’t done yet.

“We annulled our marriage, saying it hadn’t been consummated and I stopped going to church. My family and all of the people from there cut contact with me. They said that I’m someone who can’t be reformed.” 

That was truly the most hurtful of it all – didn’t Jesus preach that everybody could repent and be loved by God? 

My cover is God , was the meaning of the name his parents had once chosen for him and yet, it seemed like God had abandoned him altogether. Not even praying brought back the feeling of being watched over anymore.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” Dean breathed, then added, voice more heated, “Still doesn’t make you a sinner. None of them had a right to do that to you or send you to a camp to brainwash you, not in the name of God nor any other son of a bitch.”

Castiel wished it were that easy. He thought back to the hours spent praying at church camp and the repentance he had done after Daphne and it still felt like he had deserved every minute of it. If there weren’t the pesky ache for a life, he wasn’t worthy of. However, if it never went away and God had abandoned him anyway, maybe living with the guilt was a risk he had to take. It wasn’t like he could ever shake it anyway.

“Can I take your hand?” Dean finally asked quietly. He slightly ducked his head so he could catch Castiel’s eyes and even though he didn’t want to, Castiel couldn’t help but meet his gaze. The sincerity and care in Dean’s eyes seemed bottomless, Castiel felt like he would drown.

Unable to say any more words for the day, he nodded.

As Dean’s hand took his, he was anchored. Dean’s palm was warm against his, reassuring, and Castiel allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment to commit the feel of it to memory. He wanted to run his own fingers along the palm of Dean’s hand, wanted to bring it up to his lips, wanted to know what it would feel like to be allowed to do that, but for now he refrained.

“That’s right,” Dean murmured next to him. “Breathe, Cas.” 

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly, freely could. Not even Dean could absolve him from what he had done but for the first time it was out in the open and at least until now, Dean hadn’t run from him or looked at him with horror.

Holding Dean’s hand felt different from the last time. Back then, he had been lulled into a moment of bliss before the sheer terror of what they were doing had crashed into him. Whether it was the exhaustion of being a parent or simply that he had made a decision, now he felt exhausted after spilling his guts and underneath that a tiny glimmer of excitement.

After what seemed like forever, Dean let go only to rest the hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll figure it out, okay?”

He nodded once more.

Seemingly satisfied, Dean got back up and returned to washing the dishes like he felt all the calm in the world but Castiel could see that his fingers were less sure than usual and once or twice a plate nearly slipped from his grasp. He wanted to ask his friend what he was feeling that made his shoulders so tense but at the same time he was a little scared of the answer, so he didn’t.

It took himself a while to gather the strength to get up and leave to go to bed, every bit of energy seemed to have left his body with his confession. So Castiel listened to the clinking of the cutlery and tried to keep on breathing.

Finally, he got up and was nearly out of the door, when Dean called out to him over his shoulder, “Cas? We’ll do it right this time, I promise.” His words were accompanied by a lopsided grin that anybody else would have interpreted as cockiness. There was so much conviction in his voice, Castiel could pretend he felt the same certainty. For now though, Dean‘s would have to be enough for both of them and if Castiel was honest, it always had been. If Dean thought something was possible, he‘d go to the end of the earth to make it happen.

 

Chapter 23: Twenty-three.

Notes:

The chapter is here! As you might have noticed I'm updating a little less frequently and that might continue over the next few weeks. We have two maybe three chapters left and I'm trying my best but can't guarantee for anything - I hope this one makes up for the wait :)

Chapter Text

Getting it right had never quite worked out for Dean before.

With his first girlfriend Cassie, it had been a one-night-stand turned ten-night-stand turned relationship. It had been great when it was great and awful when it was not (and if Dean was entirely honest, much of it had been his fault). It had ended with a big fight where she’d accused him of having no ambition if he was just going to keep working in Bobby’s auto repair shop, and out of spite, Dean had lied and told her nothing of the community college brochures sitting in his desk.

Things with Lisa had started similarly steamy but they never would have gone anywhere had Ben not happened. Until he got the life changing call, Dean had been close to forgetting the exact contours of her face. It then turned out to be a damn good thing, but all things considered, it could hardly count as getting it right.

The rest of his flings had been doomed from the start.

Despite that, Dean knew what he wanted getting it right to look like - at least in that regard, his father had raised him right. When John Winchester had caught wind that Dean was taking a girl out in high school, he’d given him a lecture beforehand. “From flowers to the moment you drop her off back home – everything counts, kid. Ladies want to be treated like goddesses,” he’d told his son with a distant look on his face. In moments like that, Dean had always wondered whether his father was remembering the way Mary and his beautiful love story had unfolded or regretting not having done things differently – the older he got, the more he leaned towards the latter.

Cas was no lady, but Dean figured he’d still like to be wooed although the thought of John Winchester’s dating advice helping him win over his male friend seemed absurd.

The ideal date with a person he’d just met would be at a diner maybe or at a nice brewery. They would talk about anything that came to mind, try to learn as much as possible about the other. Hopefully, the other person would laugh at his jokes and at the end of the night, best case scenario there’d be that one electric moment where you look at each other and know .

With Cas things obviously were more complicated than that: they’d been to every restaurant in town and none felt special enough for this. He’d called Ellen to take the kids for a couple of hours but without telling her why, it was out of the question to stay out too late without her being nosy, so anything far out of Lawrence was out of the question as well.

The spark would definitely be there - there’d already been plenty when they had exchanged little more than glances over the heads of the kids during the morning madness. Even just the slightest brush of their fingers when Dean had handed over Jack had sent shivers down his spine and had made every bit of want he’d denied himself over the past few weeks well up again. 

Dean wanted to get it right, he wanted to dive in headfirst and have everything with Cas but at the same time, he was so scared to frighten Cas away again. Dean wanted so many things, wanted anything and everything Cas had to offer, but most of all, he wanted for him to stay.

Dean didn’t want to call anyone for advice because it seemed way too soon for anybody else to know but them, so really, he was left with no options. Turns out though, it is hard to think of date ideas and teach a class at the same time.

In the end, he panicked and made an impulse decision, which unfortunately didn’t mean he felt any more relaxed about their… he guessed, he should call it a date. He was going on a date with Castiel Novak – with his best friend Cas. What if this was a terrible idea after all and they were ruining a perfectly good thing? Even though they had spent so much time together in the past few weeks, he’d spent most of it trying to keep up his wall of resentment, not let Cas get too cosy in his life. Yet here he was, taking him on a date – life was absurd. Dean felt so giddy it was bordering on feeling sick.

No song seemed to fit his mood, so in the end he settled on silence but still tapped out a rhythm the whole way home.

On his doorstep, he fumbled with the keys and dropped them twice, only to look right at Cas when he straightened the second time. The other looked a little tired but mostly damn good in his rumpled shirt with his hair slightly tousled. Dean couldn’t even let himself look – it was one thing obsessing about what it would be like to do that all day, than living it.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said like it wasn’t the most life changing of days.

Dean swallowed.

“Hi,” he croaked. Cas must be crazy to go out with someone like him.

The smile Cas gave him was only slightly less certain than usual. “I got your text about… tonight.” So he wasn’t the only one struggling with the word ‘date’. “I made dinner for the kids, so uh, they can eat while we get ready.”

Dean could have kissed him right then – Cas probably wouldn’t have pulled away. But it would have been too much, even though he couldn’t even see that mouth out of the corner of his eye without thinking about what it would feel like against his. Instead he breathed “thanks” and meant it.

They were getting it right.

After saying hi to the kids and to their protest kissing each of them on the head, Dean took a nice long shower. Then he fussed about his choice of outfit for way longer than should be considered sane only to settle on something casual. When he stepped back into the kitchen, Cas was already there and the knowledge that the things the other was wearing, he’d picked out for him was overwhelming. And Cas looked… he looked like Cas but more radiant and more beautiful than Dean could recall him ever looking. Dean had to concentrate hard not to stare and still seemed to fail judging by the smile his friend flashed him. The urge to step over and engulf Cas in a hug was so strong. But he pulled it together and listened to what Claire and Ben were discussing instead.

“You’re in a good mood,” Ellen commented when she arrived, but she must have sensed that he didn’t wanted to be pressed on it, because she simply let it hang there before plucking Jack from his high chair and making gurgling noises at the baby who shrieked with delight.

After saying their goodbyes, Dean held open the passenger side door for Cas and tried not to blush and he let the other pick the cassette. They drove mostly in silence but it was the buzzing kind of silence where you’re just savouring the growing excitement in your stomach. Occasionally, Dean stole a glance at Cas and there he was watching him from the side. It made him want to squirm and fantasize what it would feel like to be Cas’s only focus of interest at the same time. The street lights illuminated his friend’s features and softened them, but maybe the warm glow was just his imagination.

They were getting it right, right up until the point that Baby let out a sound that was definitely not good.

Dean tried to stay calm when he got out of the driver’s seat to inspect her, but he had been a mechanic for god’s sake, he knew what a car sounded like when it was going to shit. He got out his flashlight and cranked open her hood. Within two minutes he’d seen enough – her timing-belt was busted and they were going nowhere anytime soon without spare parts falling from the sky. He suddenly had the strong need to bang the tire iron against Baby’s delicate metal. It was that or combusting.

He couldn’t stop the string of cursing from escaping his lips. “This is fucking typical! Now we’ll have to get a tow truck and then we won’t be able to get to the thing I had planned. And that means…” 

Dean didn’t finish the sentence out loud. It meant that he was failing on the first occasion he was trying to get everything right. The metal was going blurry before his eyes.

The air around them seemed much heavier all of a sudden and he was struggling to breathe. This was the way things had always gone: Winchesters were made to fuck things up. Here he was feeling superior to his Dad when he was just the same. What was Cas even doing dating someone like him? It was only a matter of time until that tyre iron found a target and he could imagine Cas’s face then - it was the look Sammy wore, when their dad got angry.

He bent over, feeling like he was going to puke.

Out of the blue there was a hand on his shoulder – he hadn’t even noticed the car’s door opening. Cas was saying something but it was hard to focus over the roaring in his ears. Whether his friend repeated the same thing or said something different altogether, he couldn’t tell.

“Did you see the stars, Dean?” Cas maybe repeated calmly.

He had not. It didn’t seem to matter. He was a small shitty man in this giant universe who hurt everyone around him.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The hand on his back was rubbing slow circles and was pulling him back. “There is that bright twinkly star everyone knows about – Polaris, the North Star. You can really see it here without the city lights’ distraction. And over there…”

Dean’s breathing slowly started to even out as he listened to Cas’s voice, telling him about the constellations they could see. One breath at a time. At first it was hard to focus on the words but after a while he could actually follow him again. Cas wasn’t bad at astronomy, recognising more constellations than most people and listing all their Latin names. Yet he still finished regretfully, “I wish I had more time to study things like this – they’re fascinating.”

Finally, more alert again, Dean leant back against the cool metal and let his gaze travel upwards as well. “You know, Bobby used to take me and Sam out stargazing. Sammy was obsessed with it – to infinity and beyond and all that shit,” he said, voice still a little rough. The hand on his back wasn’t going anywhere.

“You never told me that,” Cas replied quietly, coming to lean beside him.

“Yeah… I was embarrassed by the old man, I guess.” He chuckled. “Bobby’s quite the nerd, you know. I’m the history major but I got nothing on his knowledge of old Greek and shit. That man basically knows what was in Achilles’s pocket when he got shot.”

Cas didn’t look all that surprised - Dean guessed it was rather obvious to someone who got to know Bobby from the outside. For himself, it had taken months of unravelling the picture that had been conjured in his mind when his father had described Bobby as “just like me”. He’d probably said it to make the boys feel more at ease when he dumped them at the auto shop for the first time, only to be gone for weeks. Instead, it had made Dean scared - what if that grizzly, stoic man dumped them, too?

Bobby had taken them to the park. He had cooked them breakfast, lunch and dinner. He had bought them new clothes that fit from what little they had and occasionally, he had taken them on hunting trips. Hunting with John Winchester was all about the prey and long silences during which your toes froze off. Hunting with Bobby on the other hand had meant a million stories just waiting to be discovered. Bobby knew about all the plants around them, about the history of the woods, the answer to every nosy question they had. The key was to be silent in the right moments, when they had spotted something, and pester him in the pauses.

If they were lucky and they’d stayed out late, Bobby had shown them the stars and told them the stories of how the constellations had come to be.

“See, the big dipper that most people know is not actually a constellation but an asterism, so just a part of one,” he started, a bit self-consciously. But Cas was a nerd too, so he wouldn’t mind. “In fact, it’s actually part of the bear – see, if you connect these stars…” He pointed at them. “…bear. Greeks said it was the nymph Callisto who was changed into one by Zeus.”

He went on to point out the other one’s he could remember Cas spotting and relayed all of the facts he could remember from their trips with Bobby. During his stories, he could feel Cas lean closer until he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, like he’d always done that. Weirdly enough, it felt that way to Dean, too. It was a feeling nobody else had ever been able to evoke in him, the feeling of complete calm.

“And this one over there, you missed,” he continued. “That’s Aries and a lot easier to spot in December. The story of the Argonauts is actually one of the oldest we know of today. Aries symbolized the ram that Jason has to recover in it.”

There were a lot more stories he could tell, but it felt a bit like running from the weight of the moment. In his life, Dean had done a lot of running, physically and metaphorically, and for once he felt like maybe he could just stay still for a bit. For a while they were silent as Dean absorbed the weight of Cas’s head on his shoulder, the heat radiating off his body at Dean’s side. The antsy feeling had subsided to a slight background noise, other than that there was just the cool night air and them.

Then Dean let out a huff of air. “This is not quite what I had planned, you know.”

Head still on his shoulder Cas hummed in agreement and it made Dean’s whole body buzz. “I know.”

He gathered his strength to say the next few words, “I guess, this is uh, good too.” It came out more like a question than a statement. How weird was it that one night they were having intense conversations about their past and the next he was stammering like a teenager.

Even though he couldn’t see Cas’s face, he could hear the smile in his voice. “I would say so.” As if in further response, the other pressed a little closer. It gave Dean the courage to put his arm around Cas, who didn’t even stir. Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly Cas must hear it. Did it matter? Wasn’t it a good thing if Cas could tell what he was feeling, when words failed him like they inevitably always did? If one were daring, one could call it cuddling – Dean didn’t feel daring though, he felt tentatively content.

Maybe they were getting it right.

 

 

When Castiel woke the next morning, the house was quiet but for the clattering of dishes downstairs – Dean had once again beat him to making breakfast. When he looked over at the cot, he saw that Jack was apparently downstairs, too. In another life, where Dean had more interest in it, he would have made a damn good hunter. His stomach was growling but for the first few moments after he’d opened his eyes, he stayed exactly where he was.

Castiel was no expert on dates. He didn’t have to be to know that he had enjoyed theirs immensely.

He had always liked when Dean talked about things, he was passionate about and there was something intimate in it. Dean didn’t talk like that to anyone. If his friend had decided to go through every constellation one by one and told him everything he knew about them, Castiel still would have listened intently.

Even in hindsight he didn’t know how long they had spent by the side of the road just looking up and enjoying the other’s presence. It must have been at least two hours until Dean called Bobby to pick them up with the tow truck.

There had been no movie moment, no kiss, no big speech and yet, Castiel could feel that something in their relationship had shifted, when Dean looked at him. There was something soft and vulnerable in his eyes that made Castiel’s stomach flip. They had sat a little closer than usual and conversation with Bobby had ebbed after a brief discussion on motors, that Castiel didn’t even pretend to follow. That might just have been what the Winchesters usually were like – no men of big words.

When Bobby had dropped them off at the house and had collected Ellen, there was a moment when Castile thought something might have happened. There was a flicker in Dean’s gaze when they said their goodnights in the hallway, but in the end, he’d only touched his hand ever so lightly. Somebody less attuned to Dean would have missed the rough edge in his voice and would have chalked it up to tiredness.

Was it a bad sign that they hadn’t kissed? Castiel was no expert on things like that, but he’d read enough books to know there was usually the tell-tale sign that things were going well. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to kiss Dean, there’d just already been so much intimacy in their date.

What did Dean want to happen? Castiel felt a little like he hadn’t received the script.

He finally swung his feet out of bed to go downstairs and when he reached the kitchen door, for a moment he just watched. Dean had his headphones in, even though he said nothing sounded as good as his record player and was swaying slightly, singing along to the lyrics under his breath. In the carrier Jack was bouncing and gurgling along, as if he too was hearing the music. Something about the scene made his heart beat a little faster.

He stepped a little closer, unsure whether to tap Dean on his shoulder or not, when luckily, the other heard him and turned. The smile on Dean’s face was radiant.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “I made breakfast.”

Replying normally seemed impossible. “Dean, why didn’t you kiss me last night?” he blurted out.

Dean actually blushed. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he didn’t even look at Castiel. “Didn’t want to move too fast,” he mumbled, as if he was embarrassed even saying the words.

Castiel cocked his head. “Would you like to?” He was pretty sure of the answer but he still needed to know.

If possible, Dean turned even more crimson. “Yeah, of course I’d like to.”

“Well, you may.”

“Wait, now?”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to feel a little self-conscious. “Yeah.” Was kissing limited to specific times that he didn’t know about?

Dean ruffled his hair before a more determined look settled on his face. “Alright,” he said. “Let me put down Jack first though, wouldn’t want to be a baby sandwich.”

Suddenly uncertain whether this was a good idea, Castiel chewed on his lip unconsciously and Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“No more of that until I get back, you hear me?” he growled. Then he stormed out of the room, presumably to put Jack down in the playpen in the living room, leaving Castiel to stew in his nervousness. He settled on recounting bee species to calm his nerves which usually worked a lot better than it did now.

He got to around thirty before Dean burst back in and took a few fast steps in Castiel’s direction. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavier than the short distance between the two rooms warranted.

“Are you sure?” he asked, when he was just an arm’s length away and Castiel nodded. 

He was sure and uncertain at the same time. It felt a lot like standing on the edge of a diving board just before the jump, when Dean stepped so close, he could’ve counted the freckles on the other’s skin. They had been this close before, but never before had Castiel been able to look Dean straight in the eyes like this and absorb the deep green and the whirlwind of emotions swirling in them right now. 

He gulped and could see Dean’s gaze flickering down to his Adam’s apple for a split second. Back on that diving board, Dean had stood behind him and had put away the bravado for a minute to tell him earnestly that he could do it and to ignore everyone else at the pool. Now all Dean had to do was lean forward ever so slightly and Castiel took the plunge.

Their lips touched a little too forceful and a little skew but it seemed to rip Castiel open. Dean’s lips were softer than expected and his hands rested lightly on Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him in. It was obvious he knew what he was doing when his lips pushed lightly before pulling back again and Castiel let himself be caught up in the current, like he always did. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t that experienced, he was kissing Dean . It felt different than kissing had ever felt before.

In that moment it was too much and too good to stop all at once – he was kissing Dean, the man he had longed for for so long and they were allowed. Nobody was stopping him from giving himself to this man, not God, not his father, not anyone. He felt a rush that made his head spin and his heart hammer and his skin was prickling all over.

“You alright?” Dean murmured, their lips still almost touching.

Castiel nodded. One day, he would tell Dean what it felt like to finally be allowed something you had been taught to despise, but today was not the day. Today was about revelling in this overwhelming feeling of pure pleasure overriding the guilt in the back of his mind.

As if on cue, he dove forward again and breathed in Dean’s soft sigh when their lips collided again. He’d only just gotten a taste of it, but Castiel didn’t think they would stop kissing any time soon. He longed to unlock what made Dean’s breath hitch, where else he could kiss him and what Dean would taste like if he could get him to open his lips. But Dean was going excruciatingly slow, peppering slight kisses on his lips, moving his own slowly as if he was scared Castiel might break. It sent goosebumps down Castiel’s back. If this was what kissing Dean felt like, he didn’t think he’d ever feel ready for anything more.

“Dad?” an uncertain voice came from the doorway. “Are we having breakfast soon?”

His face already heating up, lips still tingling, Castiel turned to see Ben still in his pajamas, looking utterly confused. Castiel’s head felt like he’d just been on a rollercoaster. He sunk back against the counter, trying to regain his composition.

Besides him Dean groaned. “Yeah bud, just wash your hands and we’ll eat.”

 

Chapter 24: Twenty-four.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was hard not to freak out and keep his breathing steady.

There was a reason Dean hadn’t wanted Ellen, Bobby or the kids to know about that thing between Cas and him quite yet. The reason being that there was still a very high chance of them fucking this up. Maybe after a few weeks of quiet dating, if things were still going well, they could have told everybody. Instead, they had been caught making out in the kitchen like horny teenagers by his own son.

He groaned and Cas sent him a worried look but remained silent. Then Dean shook his head abruptly and announced that they still had to make breakfast, so they did. Even though he was pretty sure he could flip pancakes without looking, he focused on them only to not have to meet Cas’s gaze.

Clearly Ben hadn’t filled Claire in, because she immediately started babbling about her plans to go to the mall later when she came in and Dean was incredibly thankful for that. For several minutes it was only her talking and the sound of eating. Ben was glancing in between Cas and him but wasn’t saying anything which made Dean more nervous than anything else. He was aware he was twisting at his rings again but he kept stumbling over how crucial the way he presented this was. Not only did he want them to understand what was happening, he also wanted them to know that they would be okay and that this changed nothing. If only he could think of what to say, which he couldn't, which left him feeling terribly anxious.

“Is anybody going to tell me what is going on?” Claire finally interrupted her story, now also looking at Dean expectedly. “Dad?”

The words that left his mouth next were, “So, you remember how Charlie told you she really likes princess Leia?” Next to him Cas made a choking sound and Ben looked even more confused than he had earlier. Claire only looked slightly amused, but it was always hard to tell with her. “We-, I-” Shit, he really should have planned what to say but it had literally just happened.

As always, Cas was there to save the day. “Ben saw your dad and I kissing,” he stated as if he was telling her about the weather.

Claire turned to face Dean again. “Dad?” Now she sounded less exasperated and a lot more confused.

He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Yeah”, he said but the words were choking him. “But it doesn’t mean anything.” Immediately upon saying it, he felt like an asshole and didn’t dare to glance at Cas again.

“You know it’s fine if you want it to, right?” Claire said and wore an unreadable expression when she did.

“What Dean is trying to say…” Cas took a deep breath. “I think he is trying to say that it doesn’t change anything for you.” The slight pity in his voice was worse than if he had been angry. Dean was an adult, for god’s sake.

“Are you going to stay, Cas?” Ben asked and now they were all waiting for Dean’s reply.

“For now, yeah,” was all he could. If he felt like his own kids would judge him too much, how was he going to stand his ground before anybody else?

“I’d like Jack to stay,” Ben said and went back to eating his food like it was the end of the conversation for him.

Claire just kept looking at him like he had two noses. He probably should say something like “being gay is okay” or “love is love” or any of that crap but what good would that do? He wasn’t sure whether he believed it himself.

“If you want to, you can pick the movie for tonight, Claire,” Cas told her, even though he had learned that bribes didn’t work all too well.

“Fine,” she said, clearly not satisfied, but apparently she had mercifully decided now was not the time to pester them more.

Dean just stopped himself from sighing loudly – that had gone less than ideal.

 

 

In the movies, the first kiss is always the breaking point, where all the pent-up tension is finally released and after that things are usually easy-going. Castiel had come to learn that this was not the case in real life. Just because you kissed once doesn’t mean the second comes naturally. Or the third.

The whole day of their first kiss they’d danced around each other, careful not to behave any differently than usual, especially with the kids now watching with hawk-eyes. It had felt awkward to even look at Dean let alone get to any semblance of physicality.

Nothing had changed really, although now, Castiel knew what it felt like to kiss Dean and he felt like he was owed to experience that as much as he’d like it, after they had missed so much time already. So in a way, everything had changed.

By the time they got ready for bed, Castiel had felt like he could have burst from nerves and anticipation. Of course, Jack couldn’t play along and go to sleep when he wanted him to, so he had to rock him back and forth for what felt like hours. If he didn’t love him so much, he would have cursed Jack in that moment. The baby was snoring lightly when Castiel finally snuck back out into the semi-lit corridor.

And there he was: Dean leaning against his bedroom’s door frame already in only a t-shirt and sweatpants. At least one thing was like in the movies – Castiel’s breath actually hitched at the sight. Suddenly, very uncertain he’d stepped closer, but it had been even more intimidating standing only a couple of inches from Dean’s gorgeous smile and his big green eyes.

“So that was awkward, huh?” the other greeted him and Castiel nodded. Unconsciously, he took another step closer and watched fascinated as Dean’s pupils dilated a little.

Dean shifted underneath his gaze. “So do you reckon we should talk about-” he started but cut himself short when Castiel came even closer, so their chests were nearly touching. 

Castiel wasn’t sure what was possessing him but knew he had to – being apart for the whole day had been too long already. There was no manual for how to navigate a budding relationship in your thirties unfortunately.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Dean?” Castiel asked him, surprised how steady his own voice sounded compared to Dean’s slight stutter. It was fascinating to watch Dean’s Adams apple bob up and down this close. Was he allowed to kiss him?

Dean didn’t answer but let out a breath of air that brushed slightly against Castiel’s lips and that was all it took forCastiel to rock forward and smash their lips together.

Their first kiss had been slow and tender – this one was nothing like it. Dean must have been feeling the same tension Castiel had all day because he was immediately on board with the pace the other set. His fingers tangled themselves in Castiel’s hair and his lips pushed a lot more forceful than they had the first time. Finally, he also opened his mouth and when their tongues first touched it felt electric. When one of them moaned slightly Castiel was surprised to notice it was himself.

After an indeterminable passing of time, he made himself pull back and realised he was also out of breath, but so was Dean, who was beaming at him.

“That was awesome,” he stated and Castiel had to agree.

Doing life with Dean was awesome, it turned out.

It was odd really: for something he'd been told was an unforgivable sin, things with Dean were going exceptionally well. After their unfortunate misstep, they really hadn’t brought up what exactly was going on between them. If Castiel paused to think about that, alarm bells were ringing, but it wasn’t hard to ignore them when Dean was always there to distract him.

They had already established a rhythm beforehand, a steady dance they performed each day, their schedules having merged, tasks having been allocated. However, it all felt much more intense now that it was truly theirs .

Even though their kissing after dark became a regular occurrence, the first time Dean brushed his fingers along the length of his back, when he was instructing Ben on his math homework, Castiel nearly jumped his own skin. By the second time he leant into it.

They still did the same things, although when they were sitting on the couch and watching a movie their shoulders were pressed a lot closer and when they were eating dinner, Dean’s hand on his knee under the table made it hard to concentrate on what Claire was saying. Often Dean’s eyes caught his over the kid’s heads, his eyes lighting up when they did, and it was all Castiel could think about.

Dean’s favourite foods were now the first thing he thought about when he made a grocery list and he thought about the colour of his eyes when he folded their laundry. During the day, when he was looking after Jack and squeezing in small chunks of work, he missed Dean like he hadn’t just seen him a few hours prior.

Finally, he understood how being with someone could be all-encompassing.

Before he didn’t think his relationship to Dean could change this much. For as long as he could remember, there had been an unspoken trust between them. There had never been anybody who he’d rather spend time with. Over the past few months, he’d slowly come to terms with the fact that Dean was also still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Their lives had slotted together and Castiel had naively thought the unfulfilled longing in his chest was as bad as it would get.

Now he dreaded the day that it would all be taken away from him again. He felt it when he looked at Dean picking up Jack and whirling him around, when Claire made silly faces at him. When Dean came home, he worried he'd be told that it had all been a mistake. The feelings he’d had before felt shallow in comparison – and there was always the gnawing guilt, too.

It took him about a week before he physically had to talk to someone about it all. Even though they hadn’t agreed on keeping anything quiet, Castiel knew Dean hadn’t told anyone so far, so he had tried to do the same. It became more and more apparent though that there was no way he could bottle up all these feelings on top of all the negative ones that still ran through his life like an undercurrent. Still, he felt a little guilty as he dialled Meg’s number. Her shriek when he told her had been so loud, he’d been scared she’d wake up Jack from his nap. She didn’t interrupt him in his minute-long gushing and looked so cheerful, in the end, he couldn’t bear to tell her about the ugly feelings at the back of his mind. Before hanging up, she’d smiled widely and said how happy she was for him.

And Cas was happy, too. Late at night though, when he was lying in his bed, only Jack’s breathing in the background, the doubts crept back. Life with Dean felt impossibly good, but there was no way he could get away with it forever without paying for the sinfulness of it. When Dean wasn’t there to distract him with kisses or just his mere presence, his mind could run freely after all. The worst of it all, however, was that no matter how hard he tried, Castiel simply could not feel like the devil incarnate or make himself stop what they were doing, when Dean made him feel so good.

 

 

September 3 rd was a Monday.

Nearly a whole year had passed since Cas and his first chance encounter and they’d been doing whatever they were doing for almost two weeks, which sounded like nothing but after nearly a year of waiting, they’d squeezed as much time as they could into them.

On the 3 rd of September it had been three years since Lisa had died.

When he had first gotten all of those brochures from the hospital on how to deal with grief, they had told him to keep talking to your loved one, even though they are no longer with you. Dean hadn’t known what to say and all of the words he said to anybody else had seemed to come out wrong anyway, so he didn’t have the guts to try. It would have been too depressing anyway, even for talking to a ghost: Hi Lis, what the hell am I doing?  Hi Lis, there are days I feel unworthy of being here in your stead. Hi Lis, I swear to God if anybody else brings a casserole, I’ll feed it to the cats.

There were a million things he would normally talk to her about, around the dinner table or when they lay in bed at night, and when she suddenly wasn’t there anymore, he didn’t feel like he could tell those things to anybody else either. Whenever he wanted to try talking to her, it felt like a wall came up and he suddenly couldn’t talk at all.

Then after a while it had just felt silly; like praying when you don’t believe in God. She wasn’t there anymore, so what was the point?

Today of all days though felt like a good time to finally bite the bullet. Dean felt silly just imagining the situation, but he had some things he needed to tell her before he talked to anybody else about it.

He had woken up feeling exactly the same as every morning: anxious. Upon checking his phone, he had seen the first message of a few from Sam: thinking of you today . He had completed his little tour of the bedrooms and had checked that everybody was still breathing. Then he had gone downstairs to make himself some coffee in the bumblebee mug Cas had brought over from his apartment.

It had only really hit him when he’d been standing in the living room looking out at the garden, thinking about how it would soon be time to plant bulbs that flowered in the spring. When Lisa was sick and in hospital more often than not, she’d always ask him how her flowers were doing and whether he had remembered to plant them all at the right time. “I want there to be flowers when I come home”, she’d say and Dean had kept his promises to make sure there were flowers, when they both knew that there was little to no chance that Lisa would make it until spring. At least it gave Dean something to do that didn’t involve beer or bed.

Daffodils were her favourite. They reminded her of a poem her grandmother hung in her kitchen, which she could still recite word by word. The year after Lisa had died, there’d been no daffodils in spring. Dean had to remember to check with Cas whether they were on the list of bulbs they wanted to plant in the garden.

It was strange to think that this time last year, Cas had not yet been back in his life, when now he seemed to be everywhere. Dean watched and held onto his mug as he picked out the kids’ good outfits, made them breakfast and herded all of them to the car.

“Time to go,” he told Dean, like they were running errands, but somehow it helped. Just another day they had to get through.

Dean drove to the cemetery but that seemed to be the only task he had the capacity for.

The walk over to Lisa’s headstone was quiet. The cemetery looked the way all of them do and it looked the same it always had. When they were young his father had made them go to his mother’s grave every Sunday and when he was gone and Bobby didn’t make them, it had felt like a relief. Her presence had felt stifling long after she was gone. After their Dad had passed and was buried next to her, Dean had avoided the graveyard like the plague.

The first year after Lisa’s death he’d hardly visited her grave either. He knew Ellen had taken the kids there in secret, but he couldn’t stand to look at the headstone. The grief was always around, he didn’t need to come to a certain place only to dwell in it. When he first made it out, he was surprised to see the grave well cared for and fresh flowers before it, but then again Lisa had been well liked and why wouldn’t her friends care enough to stop by? Guilt mixed with grief from then on. He was raising her kids to the best of his abilities, wasn’t that enough?

Ben and Claire had drawn pictures, a tradition they’d also started with Ellen during the first year and then they were looking at him expectantly. Suddenly, Dean felt a little unsteady on his feet and inhaled sharply. As always when he was standing there, he felt worthless. He didn’t have to look at Cas to know that the other was exuding worry.

“Come on, let’s give your dad some privacy,” Cas told the kids and they seemed to be glad to be anywhere but there with him, running across the lawn a lot faster than they had on their way there.

For a good long while he just stood before the grave, listened to the wind and read the same words on her headstone over and over. When Dean did try to start talking, he didn’t really know where to start. He wished that Lisa could have met Cas, since it seemed impossible that two people, who he valued so much, had never interacted. Maybe if they had met it wouldn’t be so hard to tell Lisa, everything he’d been thinking about for the last few weeks.

There was no one around and yet, he still couldn’t speak out loud. That’s okay , he could hear Cas’s voice in his head , it doesn’t have to be for everybody to hear. Standing in front of her headstone didn’t feel intimate enough, so he sat down before it instead. Just do it. He inhaled deeply and took the plunge.

Hi Lis , he thought and felt stupid directly after. He took another deep steadying breath and instinctively reached out to touch his ring through his shirt . I uhm… have something to tell you. This was the moment he'd been dreading. I never told you much about him but the man you just saw was Cas, my best friend. He and I… have a lot of past but I- we’re kind of dating.

His heart was beating in his chest, which was ridiculous since he was talking to himself. Nonetheless, it felt as much like a confession as it did in church.

I don’t really know whether you would like him. He’s quiet and a little weird sometimes , he smiled to himself, but he’s got a good heart and I wish – I hope you can see how he is with Ben and Claire. You probably know that we have Jack now, too and I… I don’t think I'm doing a bad job, Lisa. His exhale was a little shaky but once he’d started suddenly there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

I’ve asked him to take over your garden, I hope you don’t mind – we both know I have always been shit at maintaining it. He likes the flowers you’ve picked and he’s making Ben go to the gardening centre with him next week. His chest felt so much lighter. I’m so glad to have him and if you were here, I hope you’d like him.

Dean hesitated. He didn’t know whether this was the first and last time he was going to do this and to his surprise, the thought made him a little sad . Lis, I think that’s it. I miss you a whole lot and I hope you know that.

The graveyard stayed quiet around him. It wasn’t as if he had expected a sign, but he was still glad there was none. It meant that the decision to bring Cas into their family was truly his own – and it was a good one.

He stayed in the position he was in a little longer, felt the moisture creep through his jeans at the knees. For a brief moment, he thought that maybe he should come here more often but he immediately knew that he wouldn’t. If there were such things as spirits, then Lisa would be able to watch them wherever they were and he wanted for her to see that her children were happy and good.

He slowly got up and made his way back over to the Impala. Cas looked hesitant, so Dean stepped close to him and smiled.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked with his eyes furrowed and took his hand. It was warm and starting to grow familiar and it made his pulse slow even more.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

At home they made dinner – spaghetti carbonara, Lisa’s favourite minus her “healthy” addition of zucchini that Dean had made endless fun of. Claire got to pick the music and it made him smile when the ‘Spice Girls’ blasted through their kitchen. He didn’t know how many times he’d come home to Lisa having a dance party with the kids and ‘Wannabe’ turned up to full volume.

They sat around their kitchen table, the same one Lisa had found at a yard sale a few years back and had made him sand down on the weekend. At first, they talked about school and a new employee at Cas’s office and other mundane things until Ben piped up: “Dad, can we talk about mom like we did last year?”

Dean struggled to clearly remember what last year had been like – the whole day had been a blur, he just had to get through. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember a single thing they had talked about but it wasn’t like he could deny his son anything on a day like this. “Sure, bud.”

“Can you go first?” Ben looked at him expectantly.

“Sure… so you remember how your mom and I used to live in this tiny place above the Chinese place, when she was still pregnant with you? Well one day, we were sitting on the couch and heard a really loud bang…” he started. Immediately, Claire rolled her eyes across from him and Ben seemed a whole lot less interested than just seconds before. The only one who seemed eager for him to continue was Cas and Dean realised with a start that he hadn’t really shared much about Lisa. It wasn’t like he’d actively been avoiding it, it just didn’t seem right even when they were just friends. Right now, Cas was leaning forward though, and he guessed if there was ever a day to talk about her it might as well be today.

So he told the story of the weird noises in their first shared apartment and then he couldn’t stop, so he told the one about the time they’d gotten stuck in a snowstorm with Baby when Ben was only a few weeks old and the ways they had planned their survival even though it only took Bobby a few hours to rescue them. Ben was eager to interrupt with his own additions, even though he hadn’t been old enough to remember anything for half of the stories Dean told and when he begged his sister to even Claire relented and recounted how their mom had let them raid her closet to put on plays in their living room. Dean had imagined Cas would feel left out in such a situation but when he glanced over, he only saw genuine interest and fondness. Somehow that made him choke up a little more when he retold the adventure of their first holiday as a family of four in Lisa’s tiny Golf that she still had from college.

When it was finally just Cas and him left at the kitchen table, Dean thought of something else.

“Cas?” he asked, his throat already closing up.

Across from him Castiel was paging through a report, but as always when Dean spoke, he lifted his eyes immediately and gifted him his undivided attention.

“Yes, Dean?”

The watchful, blue eyes on him were nearly too much to form any words. “Do we have daffodils on our list for the gardening centre?”

“Yes, of course, we have daffodils on it.”

Good. Somehow Dean couldn’t leave it at that though, suddenly it felt incredibly important that Cas understood exactly why they needed daffodils. He got as far as “Because you know-” before Cas interrupted him gently.

“And then my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils, ” Cas quoted, looking Dean in the eyes the entire time, then added, “Yeah I know.”

He couldn’t recall telling Cas about the poem from Lisa’s childhood, but then again he might have during one of their long conversations. Knowing Cas, he might have mentioned it just in passing and the other had picked up on it and looked it up the minute he had the time.

Like always, being with Cas was overwhelming, Dean almost couldn’t accept this much kindness. There was no version of him that seemed worthy enough. At Cas’s softness, Dean could feel his heart seize in his chest, but all his words were out, so he reached out across the table to squeeze Cas’s hand and hoped that could be enough.

I’m so glad you’re here with me, were the words left to be said. I’m so glad you are planting daffodils for me.

 

Notes:

Surprise, a new chapter! If you're reading this I'm so glad, you are still here.
I don't want to jinx it but after my writing mojo completely disappeared for a couple of weeks, I think it's back? No promises on when the next one will be out but this is a quick reminder that yes, this story will still be finished, I promise. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, they are what motivate me to keep going!

The poem referenced is called "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth.

Chapter 25: Twenty-five.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The moments during the day where it was just the two of them were rare as to be expected in a household with three children. Dean remembered it well from when Lisa and he’d first brought home Ben; suddenly everything had shifted and their relationship had moved to the background. However, he’d never started a relationship with so little time for each other and already he longed for just one uninterrupted day. There was definitely something to be said about the feeling you have when someone else dotes on your child, but was one day just to themselves really too much to ask?

For some reason, most of the moments they could steal ended up being in the kitchen after dinner – Dean had the sneaky suspicion it had to do with the older two trying to steer clear of any chores. At least for now, he wasn’t going to complain about it.

As he unloaded the dishwasher, he could feel Cas’s eyes on him, which still made him feel slightly nervous. With Cas everything was intense - the only way out of the feeling, he’d discovered, was talking.

“I got us a present for Charlie’s birthday party tonight,” he informed him. A limited-edition Star Wars t-shirt from the 90’s, he’d scoured eBay for – Charlie would love it.

Instead of asking him about the present though, Cas’s expression turned slightly worried. “Are you sure you still want me to come?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” He would have really liked to tell Cas about that awesome shirt he’d bought.

“It’s fine if you want to see your friends by yourself, Dean,” Cas insisted, and now Dean turned to look at him. “Just because…”

“Just because what, Cas? Charlie specifically asked you to come.”

They had been planning this games tournament for weeks and there’d been no question in Dean’s mind who he was going to bring as his teammate. The tournament had been all Charlie and he’d been talking about, and Cas hadn’t seemed against it, had even listened to Dean waffling on about the points system for about forty-five minutes. Just once he wished he knew why Cas was being difficult but except for a slight, unreadable twitch the other’s expression didn’t change.  

“I’m just saying, just because we are… something, doesn’t mean you need to take me everywhere.”

Despite himself, Dean was starting to grow irritated. He knew he could do things on his own, they did that all the time. “Are you listening to me? Charlie invited you and I want you to come.”

Before him, Cas flinched, and he immediately felt terrible for his tone. Even more so when the other whispered in a small voice, “Dean they’ll know.” The blue eyes flickered over to meet his before darting back to the table again.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Know what?” he asked stupidly.

“You know what I mean.”

He really fought the urge to close his eyes, but they still did. Of course, he knew immediately what Cas meant. They’d know.

And just like that it was all back: the all-consuming fear of people knowing if the secrecy didn’t eat him up first. All he’d wanted ever since he’d realised, was for the telling people-part to be over with and yet, the thought of opening his mouth to tell someone he wasn’t just occasionally fucking a guy, no, he was actually developing feelings for one, made his heart race.

Surprisingly to him at least, being with Cas so far wasn’t that different to his relationships with women but that was when they were at home. They hadn’t gone out in public together, hadn’t had to explain what they were to each other, when they hardly knew themselves. He’d told Cas that everybody already knew about his bisexuality, but that was only true for some parts of it. Somehow telling his friends about the romantic part seemed much more terrifying – like something you couldn’t laugh off after a couple of beers.

Steadying himself against the counter he tried on a smile. “Now or never, hey?” 

Maybe they should have tried going out to the supermarket and holding hands before letting their friends in on it. Even the thought of that alone pushed him to the verge of panic.

Cas still looked at him solemnly. “Maybe you’ll regret it.”

Ouch. The worst of it was that Dean couldn’t tell Cas that he was wrong – not completely. He played dumb anyway. “Why would I regret it?”

The corner of Cas’s mouth twitched. “You tell me.”

The past couple of weeks the rage that was always at the back of Dean’s mind had been subdued and quiet, but he could feel it building like an itch.

“Why don’t you tell me why you don’t want to come?”

The irritation only grew when Cas avoided his gaze. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea.” Cas was no open book like Dean was, but he was a direct person and now he was definitely avoiding something and it made Dean’s blood boil.

“Well, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, I’m leaving without you,” he spat, even though he really, really didn’t want to go alone.

“Dean, I…”

“Save it, Cas! Either you want to come or you don’t and I’m done waiting for you to make up your mind about me!” The last part even surprised himself, the words leaving his mouth as if they were being chased.

Cas didn’t look at him when he mumbled, “I want to come.” He didn’t address the last part.

The kitchen suddenly seemed far too small for both of them, so Dean made a point of slamming the now mostly empty dishwasher shut and stomping out of the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what answer he had expected but any would have been better than nothing. 

Why did it always have to be one step forward two steps back with them?

 

 

“You smell like smoke,” was the first thing Charlie said to him when they stepped inside her flat.

“Hello to you too – you look old.”

“Well, it is my birthday.” Charlie threw him a pointed look. “If you’re done bitching you can hang up your coat and join the party.

Begruntled, Dean did. He was going to try his best not to let the night be ruined by Cas who was trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

The setup for the games tournament was this: the first three matches were for points where every team played the same three games. Then only the team with the best score moved forward into knock-out rounds. They had picked out all sorts of games from silly ones to rather intense games for the later rounds and had added a fantasy twist to all of them, hence the hours it had taken them to finish everything. The whole flat had been decorated with elvish symbols and swords and they were drinking from metal cups they’d managed to score on ebay. Dean doubted they’d ever use glasses on game night again.

Charlie’s friend Dorothy had painted a huge score table for them and that’s where people were crowding to see what they were competing in first, so Dean made his way over there as well.

“Dean,” Jo waved at him, her face splitting in a wide grin. “Ready to be decimated?”

“Don’t be so sure just yet, Joanna Beth,” he replied, immediately much more at ease. Banter was his forte.

“Where’s Cas?” she asked and whomp, the annoyance was back in full force. Maybe he should have come alone. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb noncommittally, then pretended to intensely study the score board. Cas and he started with miniature air hockey – at least they wouldn’t have to talk that much and hitting things might be good for his mood.

And they got through the first three games alright. Halfway through their second match, Cas glared at him so hard, Dean was sure, something would have to explode to get rid of the tension but other than that they moved through to the next round unscathed.

Their next round was codenames though – a game where you had to follow your teammates intuition when they described words to you, which was a complete disaster. Apart from the fact that they had added in a bunch of their own words from different fantasy shows that Cas didn’t know, they just grew more and more frustrated with each other with every wrong guess. When they were just kids lying in the sun on a lazy afternoon, Dean had always felt like he didn’t need to say half the things he thought, because Cas just knew. That didn’t seem to translate to this game. Victor, who they were playing against, threw them amused glances, while his teammate shushed him whenever Dean started ranting how Cas could not have gotten his clue right, which in turn didn’t serve to brighten Dean’s mood either.

He was almost glad it was over. The best games were scheduled for the end and Dean would have been disappointed about missing those, but at least this meant he could avoid Cas for the rest of the evening. From the look on his face, it seemed like Cas agreed.

An utterly drunk Jo clapped him on the back. “Must suck to be eliminated so early,” she cooed and Dean threw her what he hoped was a death glare.

“Says the girl who’s been out from round one,” he grumbled but the twinkle in Jo’s eyes told him that his blow hadn’t really landed.

Avoiding Cas worked for some time. He did a few shots with Jo, watched Charlie and Dorothy sweep the floor every round and tried to distract himself by talking to Charlie’s editor about what route they thought the story should take next. It was almost enough to distract himself from the occasional glimpses he caught of Cas across the room and the overwhelming urge to go over and ask him to forget about their fight. Dean just wanted things to be normal again, so they could laugh and maybe steal some glances at each other.

The place they finally ran into each other without any flight option happened to be the kitchen once again. Cas was looking at the poster in front of him like it might reveal new secrets to him the longer he stared at it and Dean only noticed him once he was already filling his cup at the sink. If he left now, it would be glaringly obvious, he was ignoring Cas.

“What are you looking at?” he asked with a raspy voice.

“I think you can answer that question for yourself.”

It was a poster describing the possible composition of popular drinks in fantasy books, Dean could see that. His question had been why Cas was looking at it like he’d been hypnotised.

“Learn anything interesting?”

Cas still didn’t look at him. “I think firewhiskey would be awful.”

“I think I might have to disagree with you there, buddy.” The nickname had slipped out nice and easy – the beer had started to loosen up his tongue.

Cas only hummed.

They stood in silence for a bit then Dean put aside the cup he’d been holding onto for dear life and stepped closer to where Cas was standing. Time to face it. As much as he wished for it, this issue would not just go away. When he put out his hand the other drew in a sharp breath.

“Can I touch you?” Dean asked, a little afraid of the answer, but Cas nodded. Tentatively, he brushed his fingertips over Cas’s cheek and tried to calm himself.

He couldn’t fault Cas for being ashamed of him when deep down, he hadn’t wrapped his head around them either.

“You know it’s okay if you don’t want to be seen with me yet,” he said, which it was. They could deal with this on their own for a little while longer. “It’s okay if you’re feeling-” he felt like he would choke on the word, “- if you’re feeling ashamed.”

Seconds before he could have sworn Cas might have cried, now he looked like Dean had grown two heads. “You think I’m ashamed of you?”

Dean nodded meekly and to his surprise Cas let out a coarse laugh. “I feel lots of shame, Dean, but none of it is towards you. But don’t you think your friends will feel a little cautious towards a guy that has broken their friend’s heart twice now?”

And Dean’s heart broke again. Because he’d been so caught up in his shame to see that he was projecting all that onto Cas. It was him who was the idiot that somehow convinced someone as thoughtful and caring as Cas to even consider dating him. He was full of rage and messed up in the head and he just got through the day with parenting and a job. He’d managed on his own but now that Cas was with him it made all the difference. Dean should be proud to show off someone like Cas by his side.

“Doesn’t it matter what I think?” he asked, voice a lot smaller than he’d like.

Cas just looked at him in his unsettling way. It was difficult to read what he was thinking, so Dean gave up pretty quickly and just looked at the swirls of blue instead. He didn’t think he’d ever looked at Cas’s eyes up close like this. It was mesmerizing – maybe they should do this more often.

Cas’s voice yanked him out of it. “Dean, are you feeling okay?”

He nodded. More than okay actually. “Do you still like me?” he asked, half teasing, half earnest and Cas sighed.

“Dean, nothing in the world could make me not like you.”

In other circumstances, Dean would have blushed and avoided Cas’s gaze but the alcohol was blurring his judgement, so instead he leant forward and gave Cas a tiny peck on the cheek. The reality of what he had done caught up to him right when it was Cas's turn to blush. Frenzied, he looked around the kitchen, but they were still alone.

“Maybe we should think about this first,” the other said and Dean agreed.

Cas continued, “I think we should go back out and watch Charlie win.” And yes, Dean would like that – apart from the fact that she’d be insufferable if he missed it.

So they walked back out to where they were playing an intense final - the team version of risk that they’d come up with a few years ago. Charlie had gained a large feathery hat and her cheeks were red from excitement – at the very least the birthday party had been a success. It was a little difficult to concentrate on the rules when Cas carefully took his hand underneath the table. Dean thought that Charlie might have seen him from the way her eyes lit up when she glanced over, but he thought that might be okay.

One step at a time.

 

 

In the end the first person Dean explicitly told was Sam and that was an accident. He was video chatting with him sitting on the couch Sunday morning while everybody was still asleep. As he was listening to his brother rave about the new jogging route he'd found close to his house, he didn’t pay as close attention to the sounds as usual, so when Cas kissed him on the neck and mumbled “Good morning” he startled. Cas was probably still half asleep that he hadn’t noticed the ongoing video call, but it didn’t matter – Sam’s shit eating grin told Dean he’d seen it and meant to pester him about it. “Shut it,” he told Sam nonetheless, which of course the latter gleefully ignored for the next twenty minutes.

 

Charlie called just as he was leaving the school building on Wednesday – hoping for more than five days of reprieve would have been too much to ask.

“Are you going to tell me what was going on Friday or am I just going to have to pretend I didn’t see you and Cas holding hands?” she jumped right in, and Dean could just see her dramatic gesturing.

“Depends,” he answered, picking at the stray thread on his flannel.

“Depends on whether you want to be a chicken or not?”

“Depends on whether you’re fine with me confirming, so we can move on, or if you’re going to bug me about it.”

“Truce for a week?” she asked and man, Dean was glad he had picked Charlie to be best friends with. Truce would never work with someone like Sam, but in their friendship a truce was sacred. If they had agreed on one, the other would rather be caught dead than bring up the topic in the affirmed time frame – after that it was fair game. The longest they’d ever gone was four weeks, back when Charlie’s mum had died.

“Truce for two weeks,” he couldn’t help but bargain, even though a week was fair.

“Ten days.”

“Deal. Yes, you saw Cas and me holding hands; no, we are not going to ride into the sunset together.” He got a tiny amount of satisfaction out of the fact that Charlie was probably dying to ask a million questions but effectively couldn’t. A truce was a wonderful thing.

“Fine,” Charlie finally huffed. “I hope you know that ten days from now, you won’t be safe, Winchester.”

Dean forced a laugh – that was a problem for future Dean to deal with.

 

When they were all invited for Sunday lunch the next week Dean thought about telling Ellen but chickened out. Then over the day he grew more and more anxious – what if they could tell? Wouldn’t it be better to get it out of the way first, so they didn’t draw the wrong conclusions? He mulled over all the possible scenarios in his head so many times, his head felt like it was filled with cotton wool by the time he called Ellen back.

She sounded slightly surprised when she picked up.

“I need to talk to you about Sunday,” Dean squealed. He’d thought the conversation would be easier when he didn’t have to look at her face, instead now it made him worry he’d misinterpret her reaction.

“You gonna cancel on me?” she asked, disappointment already seeping into her voice. “We haven’t been seeing much of you lately.”

He shook his head, then remembered she couldn’t see him and cleared his throat. “No.” Deep breaths, in and out. “So, Cas and I…”

“Is he not coming?” Ellen interrupted him. “Should I go talk to him? I swear, you two have got to stop with your little fights.”

“Uhm, not quite.”

The other end of the line went silent. Now or never. “Cas and I are figuring out this more than friends thing.”

Wow, you would have never guessed, he was in his thirties. Who talked like that?

“Does that mean you are still coming?” Ellen sounded utterly confused.

“Yeah, I just didn’t want it to be weird.”

“Oh honey,” she laughed with a little too much glee for his liking, “Weird is whatever the two of you had going on before.” Without missing a beat or pausing for his reply she continued, “Tell Cas, he needs to bring the recipe for the crumble he made for us last time. I really need to go now, Ash needs me but I’m happy for you. See you Sunday!”

“You too,” Dean mumbled and listened to the dial tone for several seconds.

 

On Sunday when it was time to move over to the sofa after lunch, Bobby announced he was getting them another round of beers and Dean took all his courage to follow him to the garage. His palms were sweaty and he had half a mind to just turn around and postpone their conversation. You’d think it would get easier, the more often he had to say the words, but his heart was beating just as fast.

“Do you need something?” Bobby asked. “You know even a guy in a wheelchair can carry four beers, right?”

Someone had once described Dean as quick-witted which was laughable at this moment. All of his words seemed to have failed him. “So, did you hear from Ellen?” were the only ones he managed to get out.

“Don’t think you could tell me?”

Dean licked his lips. “That I’m kind of seeing Cas?” His voice had shifted to an octave higher. Telling Ellen had been easy in comparison to this.

“You got anything to be ashamed of?”

Yes, his mind provided and “yes, Sir” would have been the correct answer for John Winchester but Dean bit his tongue. This was Bobby and he hoped… “No,” he answered but it came out more like a question.

Bobby hummed in agreement. “Damn right, you don’t, get that into that thick skull of yours right now. I’m damn proud of ya, taking Jack in as your own – and who cares who you raise them with.” Much like Dean, Bobby didn’t like sincerity all that much, but he was good at it when it came down to it, whereas the former seemed to stumble over his words whenever he wanted to say anything important.

It was even hard to swallow. “Do you think that Dad…”

“Boy, he would have beat you bloody from here to Kansas City if he’d known.” Then Bobby smiled and continued much kinder, “He’d have liked that Cas is no coward, I’ll tell you that.”

For a second it looked as though he was going to ask to hug Dean but luckily, he didn’t because he felt like he’d instantly burst into tears. Bobby wasn’t Dad but it would still be embarrassing, no matter how many panic attacks the old man had seen him go through.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean mumbled, resolutely staring at the tools on the wall, and didn’t mean just the last part. He’d hoped Bobby would be fine with it, but having it spelt out so clearly was still a relief. He shouldn’t care what John would think, he’d been dead a long time.

“Don’t you dare thank me for that,” Bobby said and spun around, back on his mission to get their beers.

 

He was out at a bar with Benny and Victor the week after that. Dean had started to accept that it was kind of inevitable that eventually everybody would be aware of him and Cas, but he really didn’t want it to be a topic at every social event he went to. Luckily, their ongoing truce meant Charlie couldn’t have told them either, so instead, they talked about teacher’s gossip and sports and family vacation plans. Victor was going hiking with his brothers, Andrea had planned this whole elaborate holiday for Benny and the kids and Dean realised with a start that he hadn’t wasted a single thought on it. After a beer or two he started to feel relaxed. For once, he didn’t feel like someone could spring his sexuality on him at any second and that felt damn good. He pushed down the panic at the thought, Benny and Victor would no longer deem him acceptable for a guys night when he told them. That was ridiculous.

Victor was telling them all about his bad luck on the dating apps when Dean’s phone rang. He debated not picking up, but when he saw it was Cas, his thoughts immediately went to something disastrous happening to the kids which then practically forced him to pick up the phone.

“Hi,” Cas greeted him and although he sounded tired it didn’t seem like something terrible was going on. “Didn’t want to disturb you but we ran out of diapers, so could you please pick some up on your way home?”

“Ya, sure,” Dean said and glanced over at Victor and Benny who didn’t seem nonplussed.

“Thanks. Should I stay up and wait for you?”

Even though the words set off something warm and fuzzy in Dean’s stomach, he willed his face to stay neutral for once in his life. He could say no because that was terribly cheesy, or he could say yes, because surely that wouldn’t give anything away. “Yes, please,” he squealed which now made Victor look over. Damnit.

Cas didn’t seem to notice his predicament. “I’ll save you a goodnight kiss,” he told Dean and that was it, Dean could feel his face heating up even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” he mumbled but it was too late because he could already see Victor grinning wide.

As soon as he hung up Benny asked, “Was that Cas?” and by his tone Dean could tell there was no point in lying.

He nodded. His heart felt like it was racing at a hundred miles per hour. But instead of commenting further on the phone call Benny raised his eyebrows at Victor who reluctantly pulled out a five dollar bill.

“Told you they’d take forever,” the former grinned and pocketed the bill.

Victor glared at him. “Sue me for thinking their raw sexual chemistry would take over”, he grumbled and Dean nearly choked on his own spit. This was not how he’d imagined this going. Why did this keep happening? Was nobody fazed?

Both guys watched in amusement as he was taking a large sip of his beer trying to get the words “raw sexual chemistry” out of his mind.

“Didn’t really think, we wouldn’t notice, did you?” Victor asked but it wasn’t really a question, so Dean didn’t dignify him with a response. Luckily for him they changed the topic after that.

 

Cas didn’t tell anyone in Lawrence about their thing. Dean sure hoped that their families’ social circles were still exclusive, so none of it would find its way to Cas’s parents because that would be a whole other level of shitshow.

Notes:

Another irregular chapter popping up! I'm slowly making my way through the last few scenes, so I hope some of you are still reading until I can give Dean and Cas the beautiful ending they deserve! Thanks for sticking around and see you soon!

Chapter 26: Twenty-six

Notes:

Unbelievably, I'm back. I know it's not Sunday but as I've only narrowly missed it, here's the next chapter. After this there is only two more to come over the next two weeks (fully edited and uploaded to this site already). I finally got the words on the page to say exactly what I wanted, so please let me know whether you've enjoyed it!
Happy pride month to all of you!

Chapter Text

It had been bound to happen sooner or later, but Castiel still felt his heart drop at his sister’s sight. At least it was only Jack with him who was babbling obliviously in the cart – holding Dean’s hand in public was weird enough without being observed by Anna’s piercing eyes.

She was standing in the baking aisle without a warning, even though his sister had probably never baked anything in her life – then again, what did Castiel know? He would have turned right around and figured out a lie as to why they couldn’t have pancakes like he’d promised, when her gaze had already hooked onto them.

“Castiel,” she called out. “What a surprise.” A bright smile was plastered onto her face. “I see Jack is doing well.”

Castiel just stopped himself from glancing at the large stain on Jack’s top. Novaks don’t look sloppy, his mother would have said with her nose turned up, that’s for other people. Anna herself looked immaculate as always in her grey coat and slacks, her hair falling to her shoulders in soft curls.

“Anna,” he forced out. “What brings you here?”

She arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Well, this is Hy-Vee, isn’t it?”

Castiel pressed his lips together - she knew exactly what he’d meant. His mind was racing to find a way to shortcut their stilted conversation but came up short. Couldn’t Jack have for once picked a moment like this to throw up or chuck something?

“We haven’t seen much of you lately,” Anna continued as if nothing was amiss.

“I’ve been to all family functions,” he replied automatically. And he had been, stoic and silent for the most part, had watched as Jack was inspected and had answered their prying questions diligently. Had explained his reasoning behind each and every parenting decision and had fended off any question about Dean. His work was punctual and of the same quality as always. Even though he disliked nothing more than dancing to his parent’s tune, he’d do anything to keep Jack safe.

“You know,” Anna finally went on, “Nathanael and I have been thinking about the whole kids thing again…” She waved her hand in the air. “Just so you know, there’s no shame in admitting it’s too much for you to handle. I would be happy to talk to Father for you, so you don’t have to.” Her smile stayed steadily in place, mocking him.

A sudden wave of nausea hit Castiel and he had to steady himself on the cart. He fought the urge to pick up Jack and clutch the boy to his chest. “We’re fine, thank you.”

“Let me know when that friend of yours grows tired of playing house.” Each word felt like a slap to the face. His sister looked at him expectantly for a while then still composed, nodded and added, “I’ll see you at church.” Then just because she could, she ruffled through Jack’s hair before stalking away.

It took Castiel several seconds to realise she’d gone, then he headed straight to check out, abandoning his shopping list altogether. He only noticed he was shaking slightly when he’d strapped his kid into his seat and was sitting in front of the steering wheel, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Hadn’t he sworn that he was done with this a long time ago? Somehow, he’d grown comfortable in his new family dynamic and things were always busy, so he’d pushed any thoughts of what would happen when his year with Jack was up to the back of his mind. It now made his skin crawl.

Without thinking properly, he pulled out his phone and texted Meg. Know of any good family lawyers? Time to spend his obnoxious salary on something worthwhile.

Jack threw up on their way home in the car.

 

 

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

Dean pushed up his reading glasses, before looking up from his book. His daughter was looking at him attentively from the other end of the sofa, her own book discarded. It was a nice habit they’d developed now that Cas was there to get the boys ready for bed upstairs. “Sure, what do you want to know, kid?”

She frowned slightly. “Don’t call me that. And can you maybe not look at me while I ask it?”

“Uhm, yes?” Take that parenting books that tell you to give undivided attention to your kids. Without many options he decided to look at the photos next to their TV. Had he forgotten something they needed to talk about?

Next to him on the sofa Claire drew a large, steadying breath. He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand – it was the kind of breath that hitched because your chest hurt too much. They waited out a couple more beats of silence then the words seemed to rush out all at once, “When did you know you were gay?”

Dean could feel himself flushing a little and suddenly he was very glad, she wasn’t looking at him either. Trying to calm his beating heart, he tried to tell himself that he was perfectly equipped to deal with this question. It wasn’t like this question would have sent him into shock only a couple months prior - if he could brave telling his friends, he could say it out loud to his daughter.

He hoped he sounded more confident on the outside, because as the adult in the conversation he was not doing a very good job. “Well, I’m not gay, I’m uh… bisexual, I guess.” It had always been “yeah, sometimes I sleep with guys” or “whatever scratches the itch”, so now he still marvelled at the way those words sounded when he said them out loud.

Oblivious to his own revelation, there was already an edge of impatience in Claire’s voice, “Okay, so when did you know?”

He sighed, then looked at the vacation picture of him and Lisa smiling down at him. “I can’t give you a quick answer for that. I always felt similarly towards guys and girls, but I guess it took me a while to figure it out.” Sipping from his tea, he tried to rack his brain, what he would have liked to hear at her age, but he wasn’t sure what he could truthfully say, that would help her. His treatment of his bisexuality hadn’t exactly been that of a role model, he’d like her to have.

Claire frowned, then asked him a question that caused him to choke on his next sip, “Did you know you liked Cas, when you met him?”

He felt very tempted to brush it off, say it was so long ago, he didn’t remember, but then he remembered what Jody had reminded him of, whenever he had another parent crisis: the most important thing is honesty. The truth was he remembered every tiny detail down to what Cas had been wearing and the way his forehead had wrinkled when he saw Dean in his usual spot. “Not really, but I knew he was cute”, he admitted and off he went blushing like a teenager again, “I just didn’t think he was cute to me. I figured he’d be a hit with the… ladies.” He didn’t have to look at Claire to know she was wrinkling her nose disapprovingly, so he continued, trying not to think too much about the words coming out of his mouth, “I realised after we had a fight and as soon as I did… everything made a lot more sense.”

“Like, liking other guys?”

“Yes, like… liking other guys.” And having a weird relationship with any older guy he met, who he’d happily bang in a bar’s bathroom, but whose calls he would ignore later, because dates weren’t on the table. However, his teenage daughter did not need to know that part of the story. What had Cas said about not passing on their hang ups onto their kids? Yeah, they definitely needed to do better. Plus, he should probably talk to Cas before Claire decided to corner him next - no religious trauma for his little girl.

Next to him Claire had gone quiet again and Dean wondered whether it was appropriate to ask her what was going on. Instead, he awkwardly half-turned so he could catch her eye. “You know, I’m fine with whatever, right?” If that sentence didn’t win him dad of the year award, then he didn’t know what would.  John Winchester could never.

After looking at him for a long moment like she was going to either laugh at him or burst into tears to both of their surprise she reached out instead and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks Dad,” she mumbled into his chest.

In that moment Dean felt proud for being able to even have this conversation about his sexuality without combusting and at the same time scared there might be one more thing in his daughter’s life, he wouldn’t be able to protect her from. He made sure to squeeze Claire extra tight. Yeah, they were going to have to do a lot better to make sure, she always knew that nothing about her identity was wrong. Not to them, not to anybody. Maybe that therapy Sam kept on bitching about could actually be a start.

 

 

Let me know when that friend of yours grows tired of playing house. Anna’s words echoed through him all the time. Castiel wanted to brush them off, say that it wasn’t even a possibility, but of course, they’d been chosen with cruel precision. It felt like the words could burst out at any time, burst the bubble Dean and himself had built but somehow, he managed to keep them to himself.

When Dean had told his friends and family about them, Castiel had bit his tongue, when all he wanted was for him to slow down. “What if you grow tired of me, wouldn’t it be better if you’d kept it a secret?” he wanted to ask, but couldn’t when Dean looked lighter than he had in a long while. It was selfish and irrational to ask him to hide, especially since he himself had wished for a life like theirs for so long.

Still, he couldn’t shake the worry – one way or another Dean would grow tired of him and Jack would be taken away if he didn’t do something about it.

If it was up to him, things could stay exactly the way they were. They were doing terribly mundane things together and Castiel loved every minute of it, whether it was going to the grocery store, washing up after dinner or doing their budget. Fine, Castiel mostly did the last one on his own, but he got to watch Dean’s adorable face all scrunched up in confusion when he looked over the very detailed spreadsheets later.

The first time Dean had taken his hand in the supermarket out of a habit, they’d gotten into at home, both of them had frozen in place. Castiel had felt the other’s fingers tighten around his before his hand was dropped. They hadn’t spoken until they’d reached the safety of the Impala. Then they’d done it again and again, until they could both pretend, they weren’t always on the lookout for weird stares. Once or twice, Dean had even called him ‘babe’ before blushing furiously. Castiel hadn’t quite gotten the nerve to tell him that he wasn’t averse to it.

Castiel had cried for a good long while, when Ben had requested him to read his bedtime story and when his eyes had drooped, had called him ‘Dad’. Whether it was by accident or not, it sounded like the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Sometimes his heart was so full – when he saw Dean endlessly catching Jack’s fingers or when Claire came home to tell him specifically about the new song her friend had shown her at school. He planned on asking Dean, whether he ever felt like he might be going insane or whether it was normal to experience this amount of joy at such mundane things.

Let me know when that friend of yours grows tired of playing house – they weren’t playing house, they were building a real one brick by brick, living and breathing it. For the first time in his life, Castiel felt like he really belonged somewhere which was an odd feeling to have. When there was laughter at their kitchen table it was genuine, he was finally bonding with all of the kids and his flat was nothing more than a glorified storage unit at this point.

Naively, he’d thought his life might have turned around until Anna had thrown a spanner into the works. Her words ate through him, made him feel weary of the peace he felt and he hated her for it. It felt absurd that he should get to live a life like this – like this didn’t have an expiry date in the close future.

Right now, he got to watch Dean fold laundry, and that man even made that look attractive. Uncalled for, like it did embarrassingly often these days, Castiel’s mind wandered to imagine the strong press of Dean’s hands against his back, the same hands that were now delicately folding their whites. He didn’t even just have to imagine it – he now had data he could use. He should have been able to focus on that, but the apprehension he felt, didn’t care for incredibly sexy hands. He wasn’t sure Dean could provide him with an answer that would settle it, but he needed to at least try.

“Dean, does any of this feel weird to you?” he asked into the blue and the other visibly paused.

“You oogling me?”

“No, in general.”

“This whole gay thing? I thought we talked about that one.”

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel mumbled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe it was just life to feel like nothing is wholly permanent. “I mean this whole family thing.”

Dean’s head snapped up and he wished he hadn’t asked at all. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel like something is not quite right?” he continued nonetheless, willing down the panic he felt.

“Like what?”

“Like shouldn’t we be… happy?”

Dean put aside the shirt in his hands and sat down next to Castiel on the bed. “You not happy being with me Cas?” There was a rough note in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Castiel swallowed. “I am,” he whispered, that’s the problem. “I just don’t know…”

The look Dean threw him was almost challenging. “Don’t know what? Is us being happy a bad thing? Isn’t that kind of the whole point of this?”

Yes, because it meant there was so much more to lose if things went wrong. The words caught in Castiel’s throat and he made only a strangled sound.

Dean sighed. “I think I know what the problem is. You’re not used to things being normal.” He used air quotes around the last words like Castiel had seen Claire doing a lot lately. Castiel must have still looked like a deer in headlights because Dean continued a beat later, “You constantly feel like the other shoe is gonna drop? Like something bad is gonna happen?” He chuckled drily. “Yeah, took me a while when we moved in with Bobby, too. Felt too good to be true. And then – moving into Ellen’s – the whole thing all over again.”

The words made Castiel feel a little queasy – Dean seemed to be looking right inside his head.

“It made sense to move there, we didn’t even have enough space for three people at the garage, Sammy and me were sharing, and the old man needed an office but… I kind of liked that I knew everything about it, you know?”

When Castiel thought about his own childhood home, he thought of endless silences that stifled everything, and rooms that were lifeless even though they were filled with things. He’d known every inch of it and still all he’d wanted to do was hide from it. He nodded, nonetheless.

“Hadn’t even seen a house like yours yet, but Ellen’s still felt too clean for us. It was just dinner in the beginning and then she gradually convinced Bobby that the garage was no place for children, so there we were. Don’t think any of us thought we were fitting in – felt like the Truman Show.” Dean smiled but his smile was lopsided and didn’t quite reach his eyes. When Castiel had met Dean, they’d already lived at Ellen’s for a while but even he’d noticed the way his friend had perked up at the smell of oil and rust whenever they swung by the auto repair shop after school.

Besides him, Dean seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. “Point is, you might not feel like you’re fitting in now or know what you are even aiming for, but I’d say you’re doing a pretty decent job at this whole family thing and the rest will come. I didn’t think I’d ever suit suburban and look at me now!”

And Castiel looked at him – the dishevelled hair, the black band t-shirt, the grin that now seemed to genuinely spread across his face. Dean couldn’t kid anyone into thinking that he was even remotely suburban, but he’d still made a place for himself, and he was making room for Castiel. It was gratitude that he should be feeling, when Dean told other people about them, gratitude that he got to live like this, that Dean wanted to share their happiness with others.

He leant over and kissed Dean right on the mouth who looked slightly surprised before kissing back. The softness of his lips and the strong feeling of belonging seemed to knock something loose, because when they pulled back Castiel blurted, “I ran into Anna. I want to hire a lawyer to keep Jack and…”  he took a deep breath, “I want to do that with you.”

There was something in Dean’s eyes, he couldn’t place but it made him feel slightly dizzy in a good way. “Go get ‘em tiger,” was what he said first but it was the second part of his reply that made Castiel’s heart skip. “I’ll be right here.”

 

Chapter 27: Twenty-seven.

Notes:

TW in this chapter for mentioned child abuse and religious trauma (although I guess that last one counts for most of this story). It's also slightly NSFW but nothing explicit, promise! If that's not your cup of tea there is a break in the first paragraph after which it should be safe to read again.

We also have a fun character cameo coming up :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first night Dean slept in Cas’s room was out of exhaustion. Jack had thrown a tantrum and wouldn’t go to sleep, so they’d taken turns carrying him around the room until the early hours of the morning. When he had finally stopped wailing, they had collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion, too tired to think of anything but sleep.

The second time he had, it was for different reasons all together.

Kissing Cas was fun – whether it was a soft peck in the morning when they ran into each other in the hallway or their increasingly heated making out when the kids had gone to bed. They’d started to sneak in little pecks in front of the kids sometimes and laughed about Ben wrinkling his nose at them.

Getting to roam Cas’s body with his hands and discovering he was muscular under those loose t-shirts of his was… a fun surprise. They’d said they would take things slow and they did – probably slower than Dean had ever done in his life – and it felt weirdly exciting to discover things bit by bit. Still, it had been months of shamefully imagining doing all sorts of things to his proper friend that now, when they were a real possibility, it felt torturous not to be doing them. He had to remind himself all the time that this was all new to Cas and that being on the fast track hadn’t done him any favours in the past either.

So they kissed and their hands wandered and when Dean had dared to squeeze Cas’s butt once or twice, well, the sound the other made had nearly made him throw away his plan. The remainder of his time Dean fantasized like he’d last done as a teenager and had to admit that that was kind of exciting, too.

Until one night they were standing in the hallway, catching up on all the kissing they’d missed out on during the day and somehow Dean had ended up with his back pushed back against the doorframe and Cas’s lips leaving his to move to his jaw and down to the side of his jaw which made him weak to his knees.

Once he’d gotten the idea into his head, it wouldn’t let him go: His heart beat faster at the thought of finally seeing Cas’s skin up close. For months he had run his fingers over the tattoos there in his fantasy, had flushed at seeing only the slightest hint of them when Cas stretched.

Now his fingers crept under the hem of the other’s shirt, lightly tracing the expanse of the soft skin there. He went inch by inch until his whole body was pleading to be able to take off both of their shirts and feel their chests pressed together.

Dean pulled back and found Cas looking back at him visibly confused. “Jesus Cas, if we don’t stop now…” he mumbled trying to catch his breath then rephrased, “I uhm, I want to only do what you’re comfortable with, so if you want to stop then I think now would be a good time.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

Immediately his pulse quickened again. “We don’t have to do anything.” But he really, really wanted to when Cas was looking at him like this, slightly dishevelled and pupils blown wide.

As if to ramp up the tension Cas slightly licked his lips before answering, “I think we’ve gone slow enough. I’m not a delicate flower, Dean.” He didn’t sound like a delicate flower with that slightly rough edge to his voice.

Still, Dean didn’t want the other to regret anything – he could wait a little longer. “Are you sure?”

In confirmation he was pushed back against the door jam and Cas began kissing him even more fervently than before.

When they came back up for air, Dean only growled, “We should go to my room”, then they were stumbling through the dark, mouths still attached, hands scrambling to get a hold of each other. Then he finally got to push Cas back down onto his bed and God, the sight of that was nearly too much already. Dean didn’t bring people back to his home; one, because of the kids but two, it had always felt way too intimate. Having Cas lying on his back on Dean’s sheets looking up at him through dark lashes made his throat close up.

Then Cas took off his shirt and his eyes finally got to trace the black ink all over his chest. The tattoos looked just as intricate as the first time he’d seen them but now he wasn’t only given permission to look at them, he could touch the skin they were etched into. The insecure smile Cas threw him made him breathe out, “gorgeous” before leaning down to kiss it off Cas’s lips.

It felt new and familiar all the same, when he felt the other’s hands slowly moving over his bare back. When he accidentally brushed up against Cas’s thigh, he couldn’t suppress a moan, which could have been embarrassing but was actually incredibly hot because of the expression it elicited on Cas’s face.

Dean made himself pull back a second time. He was fumbling over the words, but he needed to say them. “You can tell me when to stop, okay?”

The admiration in Cas' gaze felt even more intense than any body contact. “I’m good, Dean”, he rasped, then deliberately moved his hand in between them and all coherent thought was lost.

 

After, when they lay breathing in the dark Dean felt deliriously happy. He couldn’t remember sex feeling this good but maybe those were just the hormones speaking. Obviously, it had been a little fumbling, but he’d found it unexpectantly hot to redirect Cas’s hands the way he liked them and there was a certain thrill in hearing Cas’s small moans, knowing he was giving the other a whole new experience. Even though he was spent, he was already getting excited thinking about all the things he’d get to introduce Cas to in the future.

Next to him Cas was lying on his side, facing away, and Dean was tracing the feathers across his back in slow strokes, revelling in the moment. He also chalked it up to the hormones that it took him a while to notice that Cas breathing had grown slightly ragged.

“Are you okay?” he asked into the dark but only got sniffling in response. When he laid his hand on Cas’s shoulder, the other only curled up more.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean repeated, voice gentler than before. He resisted the urge to roll him over so he could see his face.

Cas’s reply was muffled by the cushion, but it sounded very much like he was crying. Christ, this was not how he’d wanted this to go.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Look man, you’ve got to talk to me. If you didn’t like it, it’s fine, we don’t have to do that again.”

The second time the reply sounded a lot like “I’m sorry.”

 Dean blinked in surprise – by the sounds he’d been making during, he really didn’t think Cas wasn’t into it, but surprised himself even more by thinking that it was fine. Their arrangement had been perfectly good without sex so far, so he could deal with that.

“Don’t be – some people don’t like it at all, Claire told me there’s even a word for that,” he explained, wondering why on earth anybody thought him qualified to be a teacher when he couldn’t recall simple things like that.

Abruptly Cas turned over and even in the dark, Dean could see he was glaring at him. “That’s not it.”

“Okay, so what is it? I don’t have a sixth sense – I can’t read your mind.”

To his horror Cas burst into tears. Now it was very clear he was repeating “Dean, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry” over and over again through his sobs.

Unsure of what to say, he awkwardly hugged him but that only seemed to worsen the shaking. If Cas had thought it that horrendous, why didn’t he make them stop during? The unsettled feeling in his gut grew and Dean felt the strong urge to do something to occupy his hands. Pull it together, Cas needs you right now.

After what felt like an eternity Cas’s hiccups slowed and finally, he withdrew himself from Dean’s arms and sat at the opposite end of the bed as far away as possible. Shit, this was bad.

His eyes were bright red when he looked at Dean wearily. “I feel so guilty,” he whispered and now Dean was truly lost.

“Why?” he croaked.

“For making you feel like this.”

“Cas please, tell me what’s wrong – if it’s the sex, it’s fine. If you’re not gay… Well, you don’t have to be. But please-” Dean didn’t know when he’d last pleaded with someone like this. Maybe when he’d asked any higher power to please spare Lisa the misery of her last weeks.

“It’s not that.” What should have brought him relief still felt like a punch to the gut. Cas was picking at a thread on the cushion. “This was great, it’s… it’s me, Dean. I keep fucking things up and making things more difficult for you and all the things that are supposed to feel good feel bad, too.”

He paused but Dean didn’t dare speak.

“It’s been eating me alive, Dean,” Cas finally continued, closing his eyes like he’d grown wary, “I want this and I still feel guilty every single day. This feels wonderful and it feels wrong and I’m tired. I keep giving you shit when it’s me that’s the problem.”

“Cas-”

“I still think I’m going to hell, Dean.”

Dean had felt afraid of being himself all his life – but in the end, John Winchester was just a man. He might have thought the world would end if his dad ever found out and still stupidly did sometimes, however his demons were rotting six feet under. He couldn’t offer Cas any solace on this – the great unknown after death. If there were a God, he’d give him the finger for all of his cruelty on earth and probably join his father in hell for it.

“I don’t know what to say,” he told his friend.

The other looked visibly pained when he spoke next. “I can’t do anymore penance than I already have. I don’t want to second guess myself when we do this, I want to hold your hand or kiss and not care about God or anybody else.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Dean, for not pouring myself into this the way you deserve.”

Dean could feel his face heating up. “It’s fine,” he mumbled.

“It’s not fine. You deserve someone who is one hundred percent here for you and that doesn’t want to tear off his skin whenever he thinks too hard about his feelings. You’ve taken me in after I said some horrible things, you’ve given my son a home, you still cared for me… Dean, I don’t think I can ever make it right.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to shakily exhale. “You know, Sam said something about therapy – why don’t we try that first before we do any more penance.”

Cas just stared at him from across the bed, not blinking. “You’re not kicking me out?”

“Yeah, no,” Dean grinned lopsided, “Neither of us wanted to be gay but here we are and I’m damn well not gonna let the man above ruin that.” With that he decisively took Cas’s hand.

The other’s eyes widened at his blasphemy, but he didn’t protest the physical touch, so they just sat like that for a while. It was crazy to think how close they’d been to each other a few minutes ago and now this felt like the most intimate thing they could manage.

“I should probably go to my room and get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want Cas to leave – he wanted to crawl into his space and make him stay.

With a small voice Cas asked, “Will you come with me?”

Dean went.

 

 

The lady looked weird in their kitchen, like her presence – or was it her bright red hair? – was too big for the space. She wore an impeccable suit, had bright red lips that his mother would have called whorish and manicured dark red nails – her whole appearance made Castiel wish they’d cleaned their house up even more.

He had reached out to Meg first but in the end, it had been Sam who had recommended her: Rowena MacLeod, apparently known for her ruthlessness in the court. “She’s a witch,” Sam had told them excitedly over the phone, “You’d be mad to go up against her.” Castiel sincerely hoped so, since his parents were surely going to hire the best lawyers that money could buy them.

Now, said witch was sipping tea out of one of their only mugs that wasn’t chipped or hand painted by the kids and looked around inquiringly. Dean had taken out the kids, so it was just the two of them, Castiel gripping his own cup as if his life depended on it.

She took another sip then sent him a wide smile. “Mr Novak,” she said, “I’m sure, you’ve heard many things about me.” It wasn’t a question; this lady was someone who knew they were talked about. “We’ll start at the beginning and work our way through and to make my job easy, you’re going to answer all my questions, so we can get your boy.” Also not a question but Castiel nodded nonetheless. “First things first – do you have any of the documents that were signed at the start of your caregiving after the death of the child’s birth parents?”

He felt his face heat up and shook his head. It had been foolish, but he’d been preoccupied with raising a child, he hadn’t even thought of that.

Mrs MacLeod didn’t bat an eye. “Very well, I’ll procure them. Why don’t you tell me step by step what led to you taking in your nephew then.”

“My brother Luke and his wife died in a car crash, so I petitioned my father that I should receive custody. We agreed to it under certain requirements. Since I didn’t have any prior experience with children my– Dean Winchester agreed to help me find my feet,” he recounted, his words clipped. It felt odd discussing his private life with someone he’d just met. “I’ve fulfilled my parents’ expectations and Dean and my relationship has progressed into an intimate partnership.”

The lawyer raised an eyebrow, presumably at his clunky choice of words but didn’t comment on it. “And tell me, why would you be the best choice to care for your nephew?”

His gaze wandered to the colourful drawings on their fridge. What was he supposed to say? The best reason he could give was that he was because his parents were not. How do you explain that to someone who wasn’t there to witness it? Castiel had in fact made it a point not to talk about it, he didn’t want pity for things that just were – other people had had it way worse.

“I think I’m the best choice because I’ll support him in everything he does and will love him unconditionally,” he started still studying the purple striped horse Ben had drawn a while back intently. Anything but to look at the lawyer’s face.

“And how does that make you any different than the rest of your family?”

He almost snorted and gave her a levelled look. “My family is not exactly the affectionate nor accepting kind.”

“What is your family like then?” she asked and he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the glint in her eyes.

“Cold,” he said and as he tried to think about what incident to recount that would best demonstrate this, the temperature seemed to drop in the room as well. “Like ‘making me pray for hours if I did something wrong or improper’-cold.” She didn’t interrupt, so he continued, “They had a ton of rules for us to follow and made us study for hours. Hobbies were only acceptable if they had been picked by them. You weren’t allowed to make friends with people that supposedly led you astray or even glance at the wrong things – or they’d tell the priest who’d make you confess.”  As he was talking, he felt his anger growing – he’d wrench Jack from their hands if that meant keeping him safe from experiencing the same childhood he had. “Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord” the artwork in their hallway had read and there wasn’t a day he wasn’t reminded of this maxim – he’d much rather have Jack grow up in a house with colourful, albeit wonky drawings on the walls. The last part he almost whispered, “Sometimes father would physically punish us, too. In the end I felt guilty even for my thoughts and as you can imagine, I had a lot of them my parents wouldn’t have approved of.” He felt suddenly very nauseous and couldn’t look at her anymore. Confession was supposed to be freeing but this felt plain wrong as if any second, she could tell him he was making it all up.

As he was speaking contrary to his emotional turmoil, her whole face lit up. When he was finished, she was beaming with glee. “Mr Novak, if you can get through detailing all this on the stand, we’ll win.” Like everything else this was said with such conviction, Castiel involuntarily nodded, even though that was the last thing he felt like doing.

“So, these are our options,” she continued and proceeded to rapidly list all the requirements for adoption in the state of Kansas: background checks, home visits, mandatory training courses… Castiel’s head was spinning, so when she handed him a file with the words ‘Quick guide for parents seeking to adopt’ embossed on it, he could have cried in gratitude.

“My rates are also in there,” she finished, “However, I have somewhat fond memories of Samuel, so I might be persuaded to lower them a little for his brother and partner.” The smile on her face accompanying her words told Castiel that Sam had definitely left out some of the details of how he knew the other lawyer – Dean would be delighted.

“Thank you so much,” Castiel told her earnestly.

To his surprise she leaned over the table and patted his hand. “Oh darling, don’t you worry about it, you can thank me when I’ve won.”

Normally, Castiel wouldn’t think himself naïve but somehow this lady really made him believe that they would win. If only they could skip time to when they had – not that he’d expected any different but looking at the file in front of him, this was going to be a long process.

 

 

They were lying in Dean’s bed, just relaxing.

If there was one thing Dean hated, it was having a thought roll around in his head until it festered. Had he just asked Cas sooner, it would have been probably fine but by now he was fiddling with his rings non-stop until Cas finally put down his phone and looked at him.

“Is there something on your mind?” he asked pointedly.

“I –” Dean’s mouth went dry.

“Spit it out.”

Over time they’d both learned that it was best if they didn’t dance around things that bothered them, but it still felt weird. The only time Dean had always been honest, was when his words were meant to sting, not when he had to be sincere – that was a sure way to be looked at with disgust in John Winchester’s eyes.

He stumbled over his words landing on, “I was thinking… if you don’t mind… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Make me uncomfortable with what? I’ve pretty much spilled my guts to you, I don’t think there’s much you could do to make me uncomfortable, Dean.”

He had thought about this idea – at length. Still, proposing it out loud felt ridiculous.

“You know, I have the kids’ handprints on my arm?” he restarted because that was easier to say than diving straight in.

“The arm I see every day? Yes, I have noticed them once or twice – that does not make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Uhm yeah, that’s not it.” Dean took a deep steadying breath – he very sincerely hoped that Cas wouldn’t say no, but the only way he’d find out was to ask straight out. There went nothing. “I want to get Jack’s, but I know it’s not my place.”

One of the things Dean liked about the other was that he took his time before his replies, so one could be sure they were genuine – that was, when one hadn’t just asked something nerve racking. In that case having those blue eyes fixed intently on one’s face was rather terrifying.

“Why would it not be your place?” Cas finally asked.

Dean resisted the urge to fiddle with his rings, did he really have to spell it out? “Because if everything goes well, he’s your son soon and not mine.”

A spark of amusement glinted in Cas’s eyes now. “And what exactly do you think you are doing with Jack if not parenting him?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again with a snap. “Temporarily,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“For the foreseeable future if all goes well. It doesn’t bother me at all – I think it’s beautiful,” Cas retorted then went back to reading his book completely ignoring Dean’s now flaming hot face. For the foreseeable future was one way to put it.

If they hadn’t crossed the line into excruciatingly embarrassing territory a while ago, Dean wouldn’t have dared to ask the next obvious question. “So, er- we’re also a thing for the foreseeable future, then?”

Cas looked nearly exasperated when he put down his book for the second time. “Dean, we are talking about you getting our son’s handprint on your shoulder, so yes, I’d like this to be permanent. I thought we’d agreed on that a while ago.”

“Our son?” He nearly choked on the words.

“Yes, you, me and the kids. He’s as much yours as he is mine. Do you need anything else confirmed or are we clear on the fact that you’re my partner?”

Dean felt a little dazed with the implications of what Cas was saying but still somehow managed to nod. His skin prickled all over and he could feel his breath growing shallower but before he could focus too much on it, Cas had already pulled his hands to his sides. Against the solidity of Cas’s torso his fidgeting hands stilled. He edged closer until his face was buried in his partner’s chest and he got to focus only on the scent of his skin. Jack was his son. He’d known that in his heart, and it still managed to feel miraculous and overwhelming.

He didn’t know how long they were laying there like that until his pulse had long slowed, when without warning Cas rolled them over, so he was towering over Dean, then carefully placed his hand on his left shoulder just above Claire and Ben’s prints. “I think my hand would look quite good here, what do you think?”

It was meant as a joke and Dean knew that, but his mouth still went dry. It did look good.

Above him Castiel arched an eyebrow. “You want my handprint on your shoulder, Dean?” There was still amusement in the other’s voice but an undertone that Dean had come to recognise as want as well.

He… didn’t quite know what he wanted. So he did a thing he was absolutely certain about: kissing his boyfriend’s face, trying to ignore the heat of his palm against his shoulder.

“We should talk about your insecurities about our family structure more often,” Cas mused after.

“Shut up,” Dean told him but didn’t really mean it. He was going to get Jack’s handprint tattooed first, but after seeing Cas’s pupils dilate at the thought of having his own handprint on Dean’s shoulder as well, he was seriously considering it, which might be the sappiest thing he’d ever done.

 

Notes:

...soooo, what are your bets on how this story is going to end? I'd love to hear your theories :D

Chapter 28: Twenty-eight.

Notes:

Who is ready for the final chapter? Spoiler: I am not.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

They had a big bathtub in their house solely because Lisa was a bath person. She had loved to take long ones and use a whole arsenal of products Dean had never even heard of.

Dean was more of a practical guy and therefore used their shower – or at least that was what he’d thought until Cas had offered to run him a bath one night after the kids had been put to bed. Who was he to refuse then? He’d been pleasantly surprised at how the warmth soaked all the way into his tired muscles. He hadn’t thought to bring something with him so after a while he just closed his eyes and leant back, and something seemed to unravel in him. That evening he’d gone to bed more relaxed than he’d had in months.

A few days later he’d come to find out that baths were even better when Cas had slipped into the water behind him, so his head could rest on the other’s shoulder. There had been something so intimate about their naked skin pressed close, it had made Dean’s throat close up a little. All coherent thoughts had evaporated though, when Cas had slowly started kissing the spot right underneath his ear and his hands had started roaming.

After that it had become a bit of a weekly routine for them if they could manage it. Mostly they just lay in the bath and told each other about their day – if they were lucky without any interruptions. That included lots of legal talk and while that was basically all either of them could think about right now, sometimes it would be nice to have some respite from it.

“You know that girl Kaia from Claire’s class?” Cas asked now and Dean opened his eyes a little.

“The tall, dark haired one?”

Cas hummed in agreement and the sound reverberated through Dean’s torso, making his spine tingle. The intimacy hadn’t worn off one bit.

“And remember when Claire got suspended for punching that other girl?”

Dean snorted – it wasn’t likely he was going to forget that or the ensuing fight with Claire any time soon.

“Looks like I found out why,” Cas continued, and Dean could hear the smirk in his voice. It took everything in him not to turn around and demand that Cas told him immediately and apparently by now his boyfriend knew him well enough to not pause for too long. “Did you know they were friends? I asked her about it, and she said they were but looked very squirmy.” Dean could see it, Claire looking anywhere but at you. She had a big temperament his girl and was unable to hide anything – just like him. “So, I let it go and asked her some other things, but she was very quiet. I told her I’m sorry if I’d said the wrong thing and then she turned and said that Kaia and she had started being friends a while back. Apparently…” he paused dramatically, “the girl she punched called Kaia a pervert for being gay in front of Claire.”

Dean’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and he wondered whether Cas could feel it. The conversation he’d had with Claire a couple of weeks ago suddenly made a lot more sense. Even their big fight after the incident did. Suddenly he didn’t know whether to be mad or proud.

Luckily Cas already had them covered. “I told her it still wasn’t okay to punch anybody but that she did the right thing by standing up for her friend regardless.”

“Do you think I should talk to her?”

“I think she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but don’t worry, she gave me permission to tell you about our conversation.”

Dean sighed. He loved that Claire felt comfortable enough to talk to Cas about something like this and he loved even more that his boyfriend protected her secrets as fiercely as his own when he had to. Still… “How on earth am I supposed to wait until then?” he whined.

Again, he could feel Cas’s smirk radiating off him rather than seeing it. “I think I have a few ideas to distract you from it.”

And God, Dean liked those ideas.

 

 

People always said that therapy was the best thing they’d ever done for themselves. When he looked at Dean, Castiel knew why. When he looked at his boyfriend, his eyes seemed even brighter than before, his shoulders less tense. He still fiddled with his rings occasionally when he felt unsure, but he had finally kicked the cigarettes to the curb.

Before, Castiel hadn’t realised there’d been something out of place with Dean and if someone had asked him a couple of weeks ago, he would have insisted that he didn’t want a single thing about him to change. Now that things had slotted into place, Dean was still Dean, but at the same time everything had changed for the better. Finally being fully yourself could have that effect on you, apparently.

As for himself? He felt less sure about it – like he didn’t even know who he was supposed to be in the first place.

It was a couple of weeks into their relationship and into therapy before Castiel finally sat down in front of a blank page. That was already further than he got most days but the emptiness before him was as daunting as ever. He didn’t feel the same lightness Dean did after talking for an hour.

“You deserve kindness, too,” his therapist had told him and he wanted to believe it so badly it hurt. Whenever he looked at Dean, he couldn’t understand how this wonderful man could look at himself in the mirror and see someone undeserving of love, yet here he was not granting himself the leniency to create bad art. Always the hypocrite. Currently this wonderful man was taking the kids to the woods for a walk, only so Castiel would have some time to breathe.

You deserve kindness, too.

His therapist had also asked him what he wished for Jack when he grew up. The question was easy to begin with: a good, happy life. Wasn’t that what he was fighting for in court? The stress of the whole process ate him alive and even though Rowena was doing her best to win, it was still a billion times harder than he could have imagined. It was hard to think of anything beyond that.

He was also asked to make a list of things that relaxed him and the blank page in front of him had mocked him. Who was he outside of his faith? It was Dean who had suggested painting and since it had been the last thing he'd loved, it was worth taking a shot. Ever since then, he’d wracked his brain about what to paint, when he wasn’t in practice and knew he’d be disappointed no matter what.

“Think about what inspires you most,” had been his therapist’s advice. He’d immediately thought of Dean, but the familiar wave of fear wasn’t far behind – he wasn’t ready to deal with any feelings in his painting. Unfortunately, that was all he had the capacity to think about at the moment.

With the weeks passing he’d spent more and more time in Dean’s garden, which had become their garden with time (sometimes even his own). He’d looked at the colourful flowers and then he’d looked at them some more and the next time he was in his studio he’d dipped the brush into the bright yellow paint and had started. It looked wrong but it didn’t completely feel that way, so he continued.

A few sessions later it wasn’t a masterpiece and he had thought about trashing it more than a few times. But even he himself had to admit that it had turned out decent – not the art style he liked or in any way comparable to what he’d been painting before but decent.

He wrapped it up and brought it home. There was only one person he could give it to.

Dean seemed surprised when he handed it over and carefully unwrapped it on their kitchen table. For a long while after he was quiet and just looked at it and Castiel was starting to think he’d made a mistake, but when his boyfriend looked back up, there were tears in his eyes. He insisted on putting it up in their kitchen the same day.

It felt a little embarrassing to be praised for something he himself considered mediocre, but Castiel came to find that every time after that, when he caught a glimpse of the slightly imperfect daffodils, a little pride tugged at him. He was no artist, but he could be if he wanted to.

 

 

It had been close to a year since their first kiss. Dean could hardly believe it, when he’d said it out loud to Cas in the kitchen the other day. One year of allowing themselves to feel whatever they wanted, and life was good.

While their routines had aligned well before they were even dating, now they were like a well-oiled machine. Most days Dean made breakfast while Cas got the kids up and ready. Then they ate before Dean took the older two to school. In the evening he came home to a full fridge and usually, Cas and Jack wrapped up in some game only they understood. Their evenings were spent watching movies or playing games, which Claire joined only if she wasn’t too busy chatting with her friends which was fine, and at the end of the night they fell into bed exhausted but weirdly happy. For her end of year play, Claire had specifically made sure she invited Cas and Dean separately and had saved them seats in the first row. Dean had always thought it would feel embarrassing to be so proud of his kids, his chest could burst but turns out, you really don’t care.

They’d gone on their first vacation on their own, only a few hours up from Lawrence to a small cabin. Most of their days had been spent in bed or on the porch, just because they could, but they had also explored the area a bit. Every wildflower Dean had pointed out, Cas had diligently looked up in his botanical book and had even taken notes. What for, he didn’t let on.

Cas had indulged Dean in letting him skype the kids before they went to bed and secretly, he’d probably enjoyed it, too. At least that’s what Dean thought, when he had seen his boyfriend beaming at the screen when Ben held up some slime, Jo had taught him how to make.

Even the mundane was nicer with Cas but having his full attention was something Dean revelled in, even after a year.

They’d finally made it to California with the help of Cas’s salary and they had spent two glorious weeks with Sam, Eileen and the kids and Dean discovered that sitting on the beach and gazing out at the unending horizon was magical. They swam in the sea and hiked in the mountains and drove for hours to go to the restaurants Dean had researched before. Some days they just sat at Sam’s house and marvelled at how well their lives had turned out. He would never admit to it but seeing his little brother so settled and happy had maybe made Dean tear up a little bit. And if Cas had noticed and had pretended to choke on his lemonade to distract the others that was nobody’s business but theirs. They even enjoyed a kid-less night on a swanky wine tour with some of Sam and Eileen’s friends which turned out to be more than alright, even though Dean had protested the whole way there.

And they had adjusted to being a gay couple, which was something Dean had never thought he’d say. Yeah okay, he still got the small voice in his head that told him others were right to stare at them when they walked down the street hand in hand or to refuse to understand that yes, their kids had two dads. Those feelings would probably never go away completely. More often than not though, Dean stared right back at them. His happiness was hard-earned, and nobody had a right to take that away from him – his therapist might have had something to do with that mindset.

They were feeling hopeful that their adoption of Jack would soon be finalised which felt like the final, missing puzzle piece. In the beginning the plan had been for Cas to adopt him on his own but after a couple of months Rowena had suggested a change of plans – apparently judges like couples more, even gay ones. To be honest, it had felt meant to be for Dean and he’d confirmed at least hundred times that Cas felt the same way. He couldn’t imagine ever not seeing his youngest.

It was now the end of summer and most evenings they were sitting in the garden, enjoying the last warm days. Ben and Claire had devised a new ball game that involved lots of yelling and running all over with Jack trying his hardest to be a tripping hazard. He was now walking and wanted to be included in everything which Dean mostly loved. The flowers were still blooming but now it was the dahlias, the sunflowers, and the asters.

Cas had already started planting the new bulbs for the next season and by all means this part of their house was the one that had become the most his. In all weather conditions chances were, he could be found here. Still occasionally, Dean looked out from the living room and got the strong sense that Lisa was just around the corner, followed by remembering she wasn’t actually kneeling behind the garage, her hands in the dirt. Those moments had become fewer and farther in between but right then, he missed her like he’d just lost her and sometimes he wondered whether that was another one of those feelings that never truly went away.

Cas and he shared a bedroom now and they were lying in their shared bed and life was good. As soon as everybody knew about them, they had stopped caring to maintain the façade and the guest room had become Jack’s officially. Although Dean did have a panic attack halfway through moving Cas’s stuff. “It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Cas had told him, but Dean was so glad it was.

They were already in their pajamas, reading before bed. However, Dean had put down his book a long time ago, because sometimes he still had to pause and look at Cas, because otherwise he simply couldn’t believe that this was his life now. That Cas had told him he loved him and Dean got to believe that. In his beat-up band shirt with his mussed-up hair Cas looked slightly ruffled and he was smiling down at his book. Dean simultaneously wanted to ask him what made him so happy and just wanted to keep watching him undisturbed. He loved that Cas could be so engrossed in whatever he was reading, the kids could tear down the house around him. If someone caught him staring at Cas, he was only slightly embarrassed now. Close to a year with Cas and he couldn’t imagine a life where they’d be estranged again.

Absentmindedly, he fiddled with the ring under his shirt. He had become so used to its weight against his sternum, he didn’t even register it was still there during the day. Only if he consciously thought about it, it really reminded him of Lisa, otherwise it had simply become a part of his appearance he didn’t think about. Still, it seemed unfair that she should always be with him when he didn’t have any signifier for Cas. Living, breathing Cas, who made him the happiest, he’d maybe ever been.

When he cuddled into Cas’s side the other didn’t even look up from the pages, just hummed, a sound that reverberated through Dean. He didn’t think he could look at Cas. “I could take the necklace off…” he mumbled into Cas’s neck without a preamble. “You know… now that…”

Even nestled away, he could feel Cas’s stern look as he set down his book. “Dean,” he ordered, “look at me.” And because Dean was weak, he did. Cas’s eyes were fixed directly on him and the intensity in their deep blue stare still made him want to squirm.

“Babe,” Cas continued softer, “Just because you loved someone before me, doesn’t mean that your feelings for me are any lesser. You can wear that necklace for as long as you want.” Hitting the nail on the head as always.

“But don’t you want me to have something of you with me?”

Cas’s eyebrows rose marginally. “Dean, what are you asking me?”

Marriage, Cas was talking about marriage. It had taken him months until he could finally think of Cas as something other than ‘his friend’ and here they were discussing even more changes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want… nope, just the thought made his breathing speed up. Dean was sure, he was flushing a deep red. “Not that,” he choked, then quickly amended, “Not yet. It’s just…”

To his relief Cas didn’t look disappointed. “I don’t need to be with you in the form of a physical object,” he stated calmly, “I’m quite confident, I’m in your thoughts even when you are away from me.” Why that made Dean blush, he truly didn’t know. “However, if you wish to carry something from me, I’ll make you something.”

Thank you didn’t seem to be enough, so instead Dean said the words that still made his heart hammer, “I love you.”

Cas’s response was a smile so radiant; he would say it a million times over to get that reaction again. “I know.”

 

Notes:

This wouldn't be the last chapter of a fic if I didn't give a small speech and admit I might have shed a tear. I started writing this in response to the episode-that-shall-not-be-named after not writing fanfic for years and even though this little story fought me along the way, I'm so happy I did. (This was supposed to be a quick 20k lol)
Thank you to my incredible beta for being my cheerleader through this story and always making me like the things I wrote more.
Thank you for reading along for a little over a year, I feel incredibly grateful that so many of you did! I hope this story had a satisfying ending for all of you. If it did, please leave a comment, I cherish every one of them.
Until next time - although that might be a while with my incredibly unreliant muse :D