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Dad gets this madcap idea when Dean is sixteen about taking his boys away on a "proper vacation". Dean isn't really sure where it came from, all he knows is that it's July and there's still a few weeks before he goes back to school and he's cruising down I-40 to North Carolina in the backseat of the Impala with his little brother on one side and his best friend on the other.
Convincing Dad to let Cas tag along had been pretty easy (for all his faults Dad actually likes Cas, has treated him like one of his own since they were chubby little kindergarteners) but it was getting Zachariah to agree that had been difficult. He's been using his nephew like unpaid labor all summer, getting Cas to do so many chores that he's always exhausted whenever he finally has time to hang out with Dean, and his hands are always pink and sore. Dean's actually taken to stocking up on this aloe hand cream shit for whenever Cas comes over.
In the end they only managed to get Zach to say yes by convincing him that a) letting Cas go wouldn't cost him a single dime; and b) surely he'd just love to have the house teenage-free for a couple of weeks so he could get together with his 'secret society' buddies (Cas says they're a "religious community", Dad says they're a "fuckin' weirdass cult").
So here they are, heading to the East Coast for two whole weeks of uninterrupted summer fun. Even Dad is whistling behind the wheel, already a big improvement because he's been having more bad days than good days lately, and bad days involve him drinking too much before it's even dinnertime so Dad's bad days are often Dean's bad days too.
Dad catches Dean's eye in the mirror and winks, and Dean smiles back.
The house they eventually arrive at, after two days of endless highways, truck-stop food, and a sleepless night in a grotty motel, belongs to one of Dad's work friends and it's nice. Dean rolls out of the car and stumbles across the sandy grass to the two-story house, Sam hot on his heels while Cas helps Dad unload the luggage from the trunk. They're, like, right on the beach. It's friggin' awesome. You come out of the front door and down the porch steps and over the small, grassy dunes and then voilà. Ocean. Right there. And they're sort of in the middle of nowhere, so the beach is pretty quiet. Further down in the distance Dean can just make out some kind of cafe or diner, which he'll definitely have to check out later, and there are a few other houses dotted around, but it's not a tourist town that's for sure.
"Right," Dad says, heading up the porch steps and frowning at a bunch of keys. "We got three bedrooms, so Dean and Cas you're sharing."
Their room is small and sparsely furnished, all white and blue and boring, but Dean couldn't care less because right in the middle are "Bunk beds! Dibs on top bunk!" He tosses his duffel bag on the mattress before Cas has even stepped through the door.
"Did you see the rock pools?" Cas asks, eyes alive with excitement and totally uncaring about which bunk he sleeps on. "I'd like to explore those." He looks a bit like he did when they were Sam's age and they discovered that lake with all the goopy green stuff, or when he opened the telescope on his last birthday that Dean had saved up to get him. Like a total fuckin' nerd.
"Yeah yeah," Dean smiles, affectionate, and starts pulling things out of his bag. It takes about ten seconds to shove all his clothes in a drawer, while Cas spends hours meticulously hanging everything in the closet. He grabs Cas's wash bag and his own and takes them down the hall to dump in the bathroom, then sits on his bed while he tries to think of where to put his books. It's possible he's brought too many, but two weeks is a long time if the weather is shitty and he couldn't narrow it down any further, so he bought five of his favourite novels and five he hasn't gotten round to reading yet.
"There's space on top of the dresser," Cas points out, watching him, and that's where Dean puts them in a neat little pile. He may be untidy at the best of times and a total friggin' slob at his worst, but he's careful with his books.
The first week they spend exploring. There isn't an inch of the beach they don't know and Missouri, the lady who owns the cafe, knows all their favourite orders. Dean saved up all the money from his job with Bobby at the garage for this trip and he buys so much pie he has to crash on Cas's bunk a couple of times because he's too zonked out from a food coma to get up to his own. But he also buys body boards for himself, Cas and Sam, which they take out into the ocean and pretend they can surf on, and see who can last the longest without falling off (often involving pretty underhanded tactics from Cas, who's a competitive little shit). They all get sunburnt and stupid freckles bloom across Dean's cheeks. Not that there's anybody here for him to impress, anyways. The mean age seems to be about fifty, and that's only 'cause he, Cas and Sam bring it down.
Dean doesn't care. He doesn't really want to leave, if he's honest. The place seems to be good for Dad too. He's been smiling more, even if he spends most of his days sitting on the porch with a cold beer and the company of Rufus, an ornery old guy who owns the only convenience store in the area and hates people so much that he hires staff to man the cash register and stock the shelves, and claims that he can't work himself because of a mangled knee. He reminds Dean a little bit of Bobby, which is maybe why Dad seems to like him so much. All Dean knows is that he's not seen a drop of vodka touch his dad's lips since they arrived, and he ain't gonna do anything that might change that.
Things calm down a bit for the second week, now that they're nearer to going home. The adventures start to last longer, be more adventurous, and on the second Tuesday of the trip Dean wakes up and decides that he and Cas are going to go hiking further than they've been yet. They make themselves a sort of picnic to take for lunch and let Dad, who's untangling the string on Sammy's kite, know that they won't be home until later.
"Watch out for each other," he warns them, as Dean's shoving his feet into his tennis shoes and Cas is listening solemnly with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, "Don't do anything stupid and make sure you're back in time for dinner."
Sam complains about getting left behind, but Dean wants this to be just him and Cas for a while. He loves his brother, but he's twelve and twelve year olds still get bored like all the time. Dean's not having his exploration ruined by Sam's whining.
Dad pacifies Sam with the promise of a trip to the next town over, which have apparently has an aquarium, and Dean and Cas are out of the door before anyone can stop them.
"This is gonna be awesome," Dean declares as they start to make their way down the beach, past the rockpools and into the great unknown, where the sand curves around to the right and disappears.
"Yeah," Cas agrees, grinning at Dean before shoving his shoulder and taking off in a sprint, "Race you!"
They weren't really able to lay claim to any new land like Dean secretly hoped they might have been able to, but the hike was great anyway, just being able to laugh and mess around with Cas. They found some really high dunes and went flying down them, only to have to climb back up which was a hell of a lot harder and much less fun. They came across the edge of a forest and told each other horror stories about tree monsters and serial killers, until they freaked themselves out enough that they fled into a field of wildflowers to eat lunch.
"I feel like I've hardly seen you this summer," Dean had mentioned around a mouthful of chicken salad, "Fuckin' Zachariah."
"Two more years," Cas said, eyes huge and sad, "two more years and then I'm out of there, Dean."
"Yeah," Dean replied, fingers hooking into the hem of Cas's dumb Star Wars t-shirt. "I know, man."
That night, Cas had had a bad dream. The soft whimpers woke Dean, so finely attuned as he was to his best friend, and when he heard great shuddering breaths he dangled upside down over his bed and whispered, "Get up here." A second later Cas had climbed up into Dean's bunk, solid and warm but trembling, and Dean shuffled over until they were pressed back to back and waited for Cas's breathing to even out again before he let himself drift away.
The next day they didn't mention it, but they stuck a little closer together as Dad drove them out to a nearby lake to do some fishing (which mostly ended up with them cannonballing into the water and scaring away all the fish anyways) and on Thursday they built an epic sandcastle on the beach with Sam which ended up being taller than the little squirt, who sat on Cas's shoulders to plant a makeshift flag in the top.
By the time Friday rolls around Dean is desperate not to go home, but his dad is dead-set on leaving the next day at no later than midday. It's made them all feel grouchy and after dinner Dean storms out of the house just to get away from Dad's teeth grinding and Sam's sad little sighs and Cas's quiet contemplation of his plate.
He doesn't go far, just to the little spot in the dunes he claimed on day one that's surrounded by grass long enough to shield him from sight of the house if he lies down, and he does, flopping into the sand with a frustrated huff. A minute later he's joined by Cas, of course, of course, because Cas is good and loyal and is probably here to call Dean out on his bullshit tantrum.
But Cas just sits next to him, looping his arms around his knees, and doesn't say anything at all. Dean stares up into the darkness and waits, and waits, until he pushes a harsh breath out through his nose and bursts out, "I like it here. Home sucks. Why would I wanna go back to that? Clearing up my dad's puke every other night," he swallows, "He's getting worse, Cas."
There's silence for a beat, then Cas says, "I'm looking forward to junior year."
Anyone else might take this subject change as Cas being an uncaring dickwad, but it's actually Cas doing exactly what Dean needs. What do you say to the guy whose dad is spiralling into alcoholism and doesn't want to talk about the fact that his dad is spiralling into alcoholism? You distract him until he feels better, and Cas is a fucking expert at it.
"I'm not. I actually gotta put the effort in this year if I wanna apply to any decent colleges."
"You'll do fine, you always do," Cas says, so sure. "I'm the one who should probably focus a bit more on my classes."
Dean smirks. "Would probably help if you aren't sucking on Balthazar Roché's face behind the bleachers."
And that had been quite something, walking in on Cas and Balthazar (who is a senior and, if you ask Dean, also a pretentious bag of dicks) tongue-fucking like it was the goddamn end of the world. Mainly because Cas hadn't told Dean anything about liking guys, not that Dean can hold it against him. He plays football and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't looked at a couple of the guys in the changing room, and thought briefly about what it would be like to put his mouth on their mouths and run his hands over their toned chests.
It scared the crap out of him at first and there's no way in hell he's ever going to tell his dad, but he also can't bring himself to tell Cas either. God knows why, because Cas has gotta be like the least judgey person on the planet, but Dean thinks about telling him and all he can picture is Cas and Balthazar making out and he feels sick and can't get the words out.
"--gone back to England."
Dean realises he just missed almost the entire of what Cas just said at the same time Cas lies down on his back and twists his head to look at him, stare intense and analysing. "Dean? What's bothering you?"
And Dean tells him the truth. "What's it like? Kissing a guy?"
The corners of Cas's eyes crinkle, amused. The sea breeze whips up his hair. "Well, what was it like kissing Robin?"
"Fucking awesome," Dean responds reflexively, because it was. Robin was great. Sweet and beautiful and way smarter than Dean. She played guitar and they were each other's first kiss, and second and third and tenth kisses. It was great, until her family moved to Canada. Dean still thinks about her soft hair in his fingers and the flowery smell of her perfume. "It was, y'know, wet. In a good way. And... sort of sticky."
"Sticky?"
"'Cause of her lip gloss. And, soft. Her skin was soft and she felt soft under my hands. Uh. Yeah. I dunno, man. It was fine. Made me feel good."
Cas hums, folding his hands on his stomach and gazing up at the stars. "It's sort of like that, kissing a guy. Only rougher. Balthazar had a lot of stubble."
Dean thinks on this for a moment. "Oh. I'm only asking 'cause I, uh--"
"I know, Dean."
Fear coils in Dean's gut, twisting and burning. "You know what?" he asks apprehensively, praying Cas doesn't mean what Dean thinks he means.
But it's not judgement in Cas's voice when he speaks, it's something else. Something like... fondness, maybe? "I saw the way you looked at Aaron Bass at homecoming last year."
So Cas saw him checking out a guy. Fan-fucking-tastic. Is a man not allowed any secrets any more? "So... you know I'm--I'm--" He takes a deep breath, because it's the first time he's ever actually said the word out-loud and he's mildly freaking out here, but Cas just waits patiently, "You know I'm... bi?"
A reassuring smile spreads across Cas's face. "Well hey, me too. What are the chances?" he quips and Dean chuckles, they both do, and he has no idea what he was ever worried about.
Suddenly Cas rolls on his side, propping his head up on an elbow. "Wanna try it? Kissing a guy?" He waves a hand at his own face and Dean's laugh gets all choked up in his throat.
"What?"
Cas doesn't look like he's joking around this time though, and that's what's simultaneously terrifying and also sending Dean's stomach spinning with excitement. "You don't have to," Cas shrugs, like they're talking about which pizza topping to choose, not this, "but I know how scary it is the first time, and if I'd had the opportunity to practice with someone I trust, I'd have taken it."
He turns onto his back again, one arm behind his head, all casual like those words didn't just come out of his mouth, and Dean gapes at him for all of thirty seconds before launching himself ungracefully at Cas and clumsily pressing their mouths together.
Cas brings first one hand, then the other, up to Dean's face, cupping his cheeks and angling his head to ease him into the kiss properly, and there's a moment where their lips catch just right and Dean thinks, yeah, okay, it's different but it's good. Cas was right, it is rougher; his lips are chapped where Robin's were smooth and glossy, and Cas's hair is familiarly short under his fingers, coarse with sand. He moves his lips over Dean's with ease though, guiding him with a swipe of his tongue on what to do, letting Dean do it back until he becomes less sloppy and more confident, even going so far as to nibble lightly on Cas's bottom lip.
This is when Cas pulls away, breathing slightly harder than normal, propped up on his elbows. Dean stares at him, at his swollen lips and pink cheeks, and he can't help it: he laughs. The whole thing is so ridiculous. One minute he's talking about his dad, the next he's making out with his best friend in the sand like the horny teenager that he supposes he is.
Then Cas starts laughing too, collapsing back as he brings his hands up to cover his face, and Dean says, "It was nice. Bit weird, but I think that's just 'cause it's you."
"Thanks," Cas snorts, but he's grinning. "You weren't bad at it, actually."
It's Dean's turn to say a sarcastic thanks, and he punches Cas in the arm. Cas punches him back, then suggests, "You should ask Aaron out this year. I think he'd say yes."
"Hm. Maybe." One step at a time. Dean's only just getting used to his sexuality, he's not sure if he wants to start asking guys out right away. Though he does like Aaron.
They lie in the sand for a while longer, and Dean listens as Cas points out constellations in the stars and then it gets too cold, so they make a unanimous verdict to head back inside.
"S'pose I should say sorry to my dad," Dean mumbles, as they trudge along the sand back to the house.
Cas gives him that smile that means he's pleased Dean isn't making yet another a terrible life decision. "I honestly don't think he wants to go home any more than you do."
"Yeah, I know."
When they step up onto the porch Dean grabs Cas's wrist and holds him back, and asks, "We're okay, right?"
Amused, and why is he always amused, Cas says, "I'm not going to jump you in your sleep, Dean. We're fine. It was just a practice kiss, it doesn't mean anything."
"Yeah, a'course."
Dean rubs a hand over his face, like he's trying to get rid of all last traces of any kissing from his lips, and follows Cas back into the house.
Dean does, in fact, ask Aaron out. And Aaron does say yes. And Dean doesn't tell his dad until he's nineteen and then they argue about it for years, and when Dad dies Dean still doesn't have his full acceptance. He also forgets about his kiss with Cas--mostly for the sake of his own sanity--and it isn't until after they make out for the second time, ten years later, that it occurs to Dean that really, he probably should have seen it coming all along.