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Twenty-year-old Dean slammed the apartment door shut. He sucked in a deep breath at his own actions and clenched his jaw. It was the first time he had done that – and he’d make sure it was the last time too.
“Hey, Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel poked his head into their shared kitchen and looked at Dean concernedly. Dean let out a sigh. John Winchester slammed doors all the time when he was angry, and now he had too. John had hurt just about everyone around him, and Dean refused to turn into the same thing. The last person he wanted to hurt was Cas. Beautiful, smart, understanding Cas. His roommate of a year, best friend since freshman year of high school, and the secret love of his life. Dean was a goner, he knew that. One look into those wide blue eyes and Dean would drop just about anything to do what Cas asked. But no one had to know that, least of all Cas. Dean couldn’t let his dad down like that. John Winchester had been through enough; he didn’t need a queer son.
“Nothin, sorry, Cas, just…Dad was frustrating me tonight.” Cas knew about his father and him not getting along all the time. He did, after all, beg Cas to move into an apartment with him at age nineteen. Castiel didn’t know any specifics, but he knew there were arguments often.
Their argument tonight – which was mostly just John slurring insults and Dean attempting to clean up the aftermath of his dad’s drunken antics - centered on Dean’s promotion at Bobby’s Repair Shop, and how, according to John, Dean didn’t deserve it.
Dean knew. He wasn’t as full of hot air as everyone seemed to think he was. Thirty-two-year-old Dean knew he had issues. Deny it outwardly he might, but he knew himself. He spent most of his day underneath cars working with only his thoughts and classic rock hits - that he kept on the radio for the specific purpose of fighting off annoying thoughts - for company. They were annoying thoughts about himself for the most part, though they often featured others. He had an annoying voice in his head constantly telling him how shit he was, and the irritating reminders of his young life were a barrier to moving forward.
“You’re not getting into the damn university, boy, much less the private Sam’s got his eyes on. You go work at Bobby’s full time. Put your muscles to good use, don’t bother,” John Winchester bit out, five beers in and glaring at his oldest son across the table. Dean’s mouth twitched, a nervous habit he developed over his teen years. He usually turned it into a smirk to avoid questions. He was seventeen and had managed to save up enough money from working at Bobby’s Repair Shop and the occasional shift at Ellen’s bar to afford to send an application to the public university only an hour’s drive away. A real school. One with dorms and everything. He submitted it during a free period at school, never even telling his dad. When he returned from school that day, he managed to tell Sammy, who promptly told him he was proud of Dean.
“Of course, it uh, it was a bet. From Benny. He’s the – “
“I know damn well who Benny is, Dean. I don’t like that boy. You stay away from him, I swear. He’ll have you turned a queer by the time you graduate.”
Groaning, Dean pulled himself out from under the car he was working on. It was an old truck that had more rust than machinery. Standing up, he kicked the wrench on the ground over to his workbench. Wiping his hands on his stained jeans, he walked into the office of Bobby’s Repair Shop.
“Hey Bobby,” he waved at the old man sitting behind the desk, who looked up from the paperwork before him. Dean walked over to his locker in the back, pulling a water bottle down and chugging it.
“Boy, you ever think about working anywhere else?” Bobby asked gruffly. Dean snorted.
“Nah, got everything I need here. I got Sammy and Eileen within a two-hour drive, I got Ellen, Jo, and Ash down the street, and of course, I got Cas,” his lips twitched up into a slight smile, “No reason for me to move, mess things up this late in my life,” he huffed, chucking the water bottle into the recycling bin, leaning back against the service desk and looking at Bobby.
“Never said move around, I just think you would do good with a job in something you take interest in. You’re good with cars, of course. But…Dean, I can’t keep the shop open forever. You know that.”
“Yeah, Bobby, I know. I’ll be alright, stop being so paranoid. I’m good at what I do,” he murmured. He was already having a rough day, what with flashbacks hitting him while he tried to work and his twitch acting up first thing in the morning.
“Goddamn it, son! Don’t you even know how to work on the car I fucking gave you? The damn oil rig is fucking loose you piece of shit!”
“Dad, I got it, I – “
“Don’t you tell me! You fucking fix that or I’ll take it back. Some fucking mechanic you are. You better be glad I don’t kick your ass for even trying to get into that university. Don’t look at me like that, Dean, I know it wasn’t no bet. You forget I’m your fucking father. I have a right to know what you’re doing. Adult or not, I’m your goddamn father, and you will fucking listen to me!”
“Dean?” Bobby’s voice pulled Dean from his trance. Dean knew the reason he never left his job at Bobby’s was because of his father’s words. No matter what anyone said, John Winchester’s words would stomp all over them. He was barely a mechanic, certainly not a good one, and it was a miracle he was still alive and kicking at the age of thirty-two after how many mistakes he had made and how much shitty whiskey he drank. He was lucky to have Bobby, basically replacing his father, who passed from a heart attack when Dean was twenty-four. And Cas, he was of course lucky to have Castiel. He was a friend from high school who now worked at the local library and shared an apartment with Dean. Castiel was smart, with a master’s degree in library science from an online university and two published books all about brain science “psychology” that Dean would never understand despite having read both several times. What he was doing hanging around with a mechanic was beyond him.
“Sorry, uh, I just remembered I had to drop a lunch off for Cas,” he lied, grabbing his keys.
“Alright, say hi to the idjit for me.” Dean turned to leave but his breath caught in his throat. God why am I like this today? he thought. He swallowed and inhaled, turning back to Bobby. Something inside him was telling him that today was the day. Maybe he was just fucking tired.
“Bobby?”
“What?” he grunted out, looking back up at Dean. It was only when he caught a look at Dean’s worried face that he set down his pencil and stood, moving to where Dean had frozen by the service counter. “Dean, what is with you today?”
“I need to tell you something I should have long ago.”
“Alright…take a seat, son, you look like you might faint,” Bobby said, pulling out two chairs from the counter and steering Dean into one, taking the other for himself. Dean was still blinking and biting his lip periodically. He wasn’t like this normally, Bobby knew that. “Dean, what’s going on?” he asked, a little softer. Dean was his son by all means, especially after John had passed.
“I’m…” he couldn’t get any more words out, his throat closed. Dean blinked away unshed tears and Bobby smacked his hands before he could wipe his oil-covered hands all over his eyes.
“I’m in love,” Dean managed. His jaw was clenched so tightly that he was sure he’d need a visit to the dentist after this. Bobby frowned and leaned back in his seat. Dean could practically see Bobby’s brain putting pieces together. His stomach was turning in circles.
“Cas?” Bobby asked after what felt like hours but was probably twenty seconds, looking at Dean for confirmation. He simply bit his lip and nodded. “Does he know?”
“I don’t know, probably. I haven’t told him. I will. I…Bobby, Dad hated this about me,” Dean said, voice rushed. “He hated Cas, hated that I lived with him, hated me for…for being a queer. I told him I wasn’t, but he knew and the night before…well the night before he died -”
“You know, your father hated a lot of things he had no right to hate. He was a bundle of hatred, Dean,” Bobby cut in, “It didn’t matter that you loved Cas, ever. Before and after Mary, John had his own problems.”
“You were friends with him, though?”
“He and I had a lot in common, used to. The John that you knew wasn’t the John I knew. And Cas is good for you. You tell him,” Bobby gave him a look, and retreated behind his desk. Dean nodded, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. He had told Bobby he was in love with another man. And Bobby didn’t even flinch. It was as if he knew already. He stood up and walked to the door, turning to wave at Bobby once more.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Dad, I’m spending the night at a friend’s place. I’m taking Sammy with me.” Dean was already halfway out the door, having shooed Sam out before him.
“Like hell you are. Who this time? It better not be that queer Benny.”
“It’s the Novak’s, you know them. Castiel, Anna, Gabriel, you know?”
“Fucking weird is what they are. Religious freaks. You shouldn’t even be with friends. You’re going to fail your damn classes.”
“I’m getting B’s in most of my classes, and I haven’t been out for two weeks.”
“Don’t argue with me. Drop Sammy off with them and get your fucking ass back here. I need help with a project in the garage.”
Dean sighed, setting his backpack down on the table and getting his keys. He was going over to the Novak’s because he wanted to celebrate. He got into the university. Dean was going to tell all his friends at school on Monday, but he wanted to tell Cas and Sam first. But there was no celebrating when John Winchester was in a mood. He drove Sam across town to the large suburban home the Novak’s were in. Sam got out of the backseat, grabbing his backpack. Dean tossed the acceptance letter in the impala glovebox.
“You should stay, Dean.”
“Dad needs help. You go find Gabe and send Cas out here, will you?”
Sam ran up to the door, which opened and enveloped Sam. Then out stepped Castiel Novak. Dean’s closest friend. He felt himself smile at the sight of him. Cas walked down the driveway to greet Dean. He leaned in the open window of the passenger seat.
“Heard you can’t stay?”
“Ah, just helping the old man out with some stuff, I’ll catch up with you guys on Monday.” Dean scoffed. His heart ached a little, wishing he could stay. He didn’t spend near as much time with Cas as he wanted. Sure, they hung out at school, but that was with Benny, Meg, Charlie, and Jo all around too. Cas was sweet and so smart. He helped him with homework and argued about what movies to watch with him. They shared notes in classes and Dean even went to homecoming with him. Castiel motivated Dean more than anyone in his life. Cas was special. Dean didn’t know why.
Dean knew why. He was eighteen and laughing at a joke his friend made while studying for their biology final when he knew. Cas was special because Dean was in love with him. He didn’t choke or stop laughing or react in any way. If there was one thing he was good at, it was hiding whatever he was thinking. Everyday Cas smiled at him, and Dean had to excuse himself because he would flush too much. Dean knew he was bisexual. He would never forget the day near the end of their senior year that he shyly approached Charlie after their last class of the day and asked if there was such a thing as someone who liked boys and girls. She had smiled eagerly and answered all his questions. She even gave him a button the next day. It was blue, purple, and pink. He smiled and put it in his pocket.
And thirty-two-year-old Dean remembered all the words his father had yelled at him when said pin was found.
“What the fuck is this, Dean? You fucking answer me now! Is this one of those goddamn queer things? I know, you stupid bitch, I know. You think you can get away hanging out with all those fucking queers at school and I won’t notice. I knew they were queer, but you too, Dean? You going to be a fucking fairy too? A damn fairy for an eldest son? What am I supposed to do with that? You fucking turn this shit around now or you will be kicked out. I don’t give a flying fuck what excuses you have,” John shoved him backward into the counter. Dean burned his arm on the stove next to it and he twitched in pain. He flinched as his dad approached him more, grounding himself to the counter.
“Dad –“ he put out his hands in an attempt to calm his father down.
“No. You’ve let me down before, more than I can count. But this…I didn’t raise a queer, Dean, so who did? How’s Sam supposed to look up to you? He sure can’t now. You drop all your damn dreams of going to college where you can learn to be a girl and you go work at Bobby’s. The minute you can afford to, you get your own damn place.”
Dean fumbled with his phone for a minute as he continued to drive. He didn’t know what was going on with him today, but his walls were breaking around him, and he had to let people know. He managed to press call on Sam’s contact in his phone, and he put it on speaker so he could keep driving.
“Dean?”
“Hey! Hey, uh, Sammy. I need to talk to you.” Dean mumbled, suddenly regretting his brave choice. His fingers had called Sam before his brain could catch up to what he was doing.
“Okay…go ahead?” Sam said, annoyance dripping in his voice. Shoot. Dean had called him while he was at work. Oops.
“Um. It’s about Dad. He, y’know. Did some stuff. Said some stuff. To me.”
“I know, Dean. I remember it. Do you want me to call out for today? If…if you’re going to talk I wanna be there,” Sam said, and Dean could already hear clicking on a computer as Sam started to type an email out.
“No, no don’t call out. I’m going to talk to Cas. I talked to Bobby right before calling you. Sam, Dad and I argued a lot, and he did some things, but I don’t know if you knew why I moved out at nineteen. I regret that you know. Moving out and leaving you there.”
“It’s okay, dude. I’m alright, he got a little quieter when you left. Why’d you move out?”
“I’m into guys,” Dean blurted out, way too fast and loud for his liking. He couldn’t help it; his anxiety was starting to show. He pulled into a store parking lot and stopped his car so he could catch his breath.
“Oh. Um, is that why Dad, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, even though Sam couldn’t see it. “He found out my senior year. I moved out. I haven’t told anyone till today,” he murmured, still fidgeting.
“Anyone? Well, I mean Cas knew,” Sam chuckled lightly.
“I never told him,” Dean frowned.
“But, I mean…I assumed you were telling me you’ve been dating him,” Sam said. Dean could hear the confusion in his voice. Damn, did everyone know he was in love with Cas? Was he just walking around that obvious?
“No, we’re not. Not yet, anyway. I’m telling him today. That I’m bi. Bisexual. That’s the term. For me. I’m bi,” Dean rambled off again, “No promises we’re going to date, I’m just -”
“Dean, he loves you too. I know that much. I do too, I’m proud of you. I’m sorry about Dad.”
“Don’t, I’m fine. Hey, uh, thanks. I’m gonna go talk to Cas. I’ll see you later,” Dean rushed to hang up, but Sam cut him off again.
“Hey, wait, maybe Eileen and I could come visit you and Cas this weekend? It would be nice to see you two.”
“Sure, if this doesn’t go horribly,” Dean laughed darkly and pressed end call before his brother could get another word in. Taking another deep breath to steady himself – what felt like the millionth deep breath of the day – Dean started the impala and headed towards the library. A bell jingled as Dean entered the library Cas worked at. He rounded the corner and stopped at the circulation desk. A bored-looking blonde teen girl glanced up, then rolled back on her chair to the door leading back to the employee lounge. Knocking once, she opened the door.
“Novak, Dean’s here.” Dean didn’t know how she knew his name. Sure, he had seen this girl here a few times, but he didn’t know her name. Clarissa? Chrissy? Claire? Didn’t matter, because Castiel emerged from the backroom with a curious smile on his face.
“Dean! What do I owe the pleasure?” he stopped when he caught a look of Dean’s face. “What’s wrong? Claire, cover for me, will you?” he excused himself and smiled at Claire. Cas was in his typical work outfit, a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a truly terrible tweed jacket that Dean had bought him a few years ago for his birthday. Dean’s heart clenched painfully with a bit of longing. He was having a weird day. He didn’t need to bring Cas his lunch, he just needed to see him, and finally, tell him some things he should have years ago.
“Dean, I swear to god and the devil himself, you need to get your sorry ass a girlfriend. Even Sammy’s got one now, little miss Jess,” John spoke, not really angry, but perhaps sad. He was quite drunk already. They were sitting at the kitchen table again. Dean was twenty-four. He visited his father every week since moving out five years ago.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’m getting what I need, I’m focused on my job, and I’m not lonely, or anything.”
“Well come on now, boy, it’s gotta be lonely all alone. You know, that’s how I was until I managed to get -” he coughed and swallowed another mouthful of whiskey, “Mary.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. John had been berating him for years now on this issue. He swallowed.
“I got Cas, don’t I? Can never be lonely with a roommate.” John scoffed and shook his head.
“Is he fucking you?” he asked. Dean almost dropped his own drink.
“No, Dad, of course not. I – I…you know I’m not gay. He’s just a close friend,” he stuttered.
“If I were to know you were with a man, I think I’d just off myself then. And it being that son of a bitch Castiel too. Imagine that. Widowed John Winchester and his queer kid. Well, at least there’s hope for Sammy.”
“Dad, I’m not. I swear. Cas and I are only friends,” Dean insisted, feeling small and weak. His voice was locking up and there was not enough air in his throat.
“You think I’m stupid, son?” he slurred, eyes closing as he tossed back the last of his drink and accidentally dropped his glass on the floor. It shattered, and Dean jumped. “I see you,” he pointed at Dean. “I know. Fucking hell, Dean, I know. If I weren’t so tired now, I’d whoop your ass. ‘Only friends,’ he says, well I’ll tell you what. I’ve never heard anyone talk about their friend the way you do with him.” Dean stared at his father, a drunken mess across the table from him. John knew. John couldn’t know. Tomorrow he was sure to get an actual hit or two from the man and angrier words. He started to blink back tears – crying wasn’t allowed in this household – and pushed himself away from the table.
“Where…where you going
…?” John slurred.
“Home,” Dean murmured, pulling his phone from his pocket and texting Cas to pick him up. “I remembered Bobby needs me to help him with a special project tomorrow. I can’t stay.” Dean went out to the front porch to wait for Castiel. He knew he should have gotten his father to his bed and swept up the glass on the floor. He should have taken the alcohol away from John so he couldn’t drink any more. But he was on the verge of tears and had never felt more anxious. So when Cas asked him on the way home what was wrong, he lied and said that they were talking about his mother, and that’s why he was about to cry. It wasn’t a complete lie, after all.
John Winchester passed away the next day.
Besides Sam, Eileen, and Bobby, Cas was the only person who knew who John Winchester really was. Cas was the only one who knew how John yelled and emotionally tore at Dean well into his adulthood.
Cas was the only one who knew Dean had lasting trauma. It was only after John died that he told him. Cas came to the funeral with him. Sam brought his girlfriend at the time, Jess. Dean was so zoned out that he couldn’t even accept the many, many I’m sorry for your losses that he got that day. It was Castiel who had thanked everyone and kept his hand wrapped around Dean’s waist the entire time for support. Dean had numbly left the funeral, Cas following him quietly. After they got in the Impala, Dean let out a sob, and Cas, thinking it was simply mourning, attempted to speak of his father lovingly, even though he had never met the man.
“Dean, he seemed to be a wonderful man, I’m so sorry. I know how much you looked up to him, followed in his footsteps, cared for him. I’m here for you.” Cas had said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean swallowed roughly.
“He hurt me, Cas.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He pushed me into a stove one time. This wasn’t from the impala’s engine like I told you,” Dean said, rolling up his sleeve to show the dark brown burn scar on the back of his forearm. He spoke with no emotions. Numb.
“Dean, what?” Castiel’s face had broken into one of deep concern, he desperately searched Dean’s face for any more information.
“My dad hit me, Cas.”
Silence.
“Dean…I didn’t know.”
“No one knew, Cas. If I said anything, god knows what would have happened. I had to keep it in for Sammy.” Tears fell on his lap. He wouldn’t look up. Sharing feelings was pansy shit, his father told him. Crying was for girls.
“Dean, do you want to tell me specifics?” Cas asked, moving closer, and taking his hand. Dean wrenched it away. Holding hands with Cas was gay. Dean wouldn’t be gay. He couldn’t act on it. Not after the conversation he had with his father the very day before he died. Not after the funeral. Not after all his dad’s friends had clapped him on the back and told him how much like John he was.
“Happened after Mom died. He just…I don’t know. It was never much.”
That was a lie. It happened almost once a week, the physical abuse. The constant yelling was the backtrack to all of Dean’s childhood. But if Sammy was alright, he was fine. He was useless, not good at what he did. He wouldn’t ever amount to much. He was a queer. No. Twenty-four-year-old Dean was fine. He had a rough childhood. But it was fine now. He had a best friend and a great brother. A brother who was doing well in school. A brother who was straight. A brother who never was on the receiving end of their father’s wrath. Twenty-four-year-old Dean knew a lot of things. Twenty-four-year-old Dean still knew he was bisexual. He had known since that fateful day with Charlie. But after talking to his dad, Dean never let it show. No one knew, he even told Charlie it was just a passing curiosity. She never believed him, but she kept her word and never spoke about it again. She knew.
Thirty-two-year-old Dean knew. He knew he was fucked up. He knew how much emotional damage his father gave him. His self-worth was dangerously low, he drank too much, and he knew he was going to snap one day – probably today - and kiss Cas. He knew he would give in eventually. It was always Castiel. Cas was the only one who had listened. He listened as Dean broke over the years and told him what had occurred up until the day his dad died. But Dean never mentioned his bisexuality or his father’s hatred for that part of him.
Trauma, Cas had said. It was lasting poor self-image, and that led to more. Flashbacks, where Dean would zone out and he was suddenly a teen again and being shoved around by his drunk father. His nervous ticks and twitches. His jerky movements when anyone got too close to him or raised their voice. The amount of alcohol he consumed. By far, the flashbacks and anxiety were the worst.
Most likely PTSD said Cas. Dean was glad no one ever said anything. Sam knew a little. He tried to talk to Dean about it, but Dean never budged. Eileen tried a few times to get through to him. Bobby noticed. Ellen and Jo would cut him off if he seemed out of it. They knew.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
And then Dean remembered he had driven to Castiel. They had walked to the impala. He blinked hard, not even remembering getting into his car. God, he hated his trances. Dean and Cas had all their important conversations in the impala. Despite sharing an apartment, this was his comfort space, and Castiel knew it.
“Having a bad day, Cas,” Dean said, not knowing how else to start the conversation. He had to start with his dad and explain what he had been dealing with for his entire life.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s one more thing I never told you about my dad.” Castiel moved closer and forced Dean to face him. He reached for Castiel’s hands this time. He needed this. He needed to tell Cas everything.
Dean knew Cas was in love with him. Dean knew that he was the reason they weren’t dating. Dean knew that Cas probably knew he was in love with him too. Cas had a way of knowing things no one spoke into existence.
“When we were seniors, I told Charlie I liked boys and girls,” Dean said, glancing up to see Cas simply nodding, blue eyes searching for more, no judgment present. “She said I was bisexual and gave me a pin. My dad found it, Cas.”
“Oh god, Dean.” Cas’s hands squeezed his tighter as he shut his eyes. Cas always shut his eyes when listening to Dean talk about his dad.
“Never had a worse day,” his voice cracked slightly. “That’s when I got burned. He told me to move out the second I could. He said I had never disappointed him more. Said worse things that I can’t say. But I’ve never spoken about it. I knew I liked men. I knew, Cas. Everyone thinks I don’t know anything. Everyone thinks I’m just poor widower John Winchester’s good, stupid, straight son - ”
“No one thinks that, Dean,” Cas cut in. Dean squeezed his friend’s hands and continued.
“The night before he died, he told me he knew. I said he was wrong. But I know. I knew, and I have to say it. I’ve known I was bi since we were in high school, I was probably seventeen or eighteen. I told Bobby and Sam today. I can’t keep it in anymore, Cas.” Dean bit out, eyes closed and tears flowing freely. He knew that crying was for men too.
“Dean, I can’t imagine the toll this has had on you. All these years, not telling anyone. The guilt. There’s a term for this too, I can explain it,” Cas blinked, shedding a few tears himself.
“No, it’s okay. Cas, I have spent every day since Dad died trying to learn who I am without him. This was just the hardest. I know I’m a good mechanic. I did get into that university, never told anyone. I still have issues, God knows that. But this one, this was the worst.”
“Do you want me to call out for the rest of the day? I think we could stand to go home. Here, let me get you tissues,” Cas reached for the box of tissues in the back, but Dean stopped him, putting a hand on his cheek.
“You’re the reason I can’t keep this in anymore.”
“Dean?” Cas stopped, sliding back into his seat. He slid his hands over and took Dean’s free one.
“You’re everything, Cas. You’ve been my everything for so damn long. I need you to know. I’ve spent the last eight years trying to get rid of the guilt in my chest so I could tell you,” he cut off, stopping to take a shaky breath.
Cas slowly leaned in, reaching now to place a hand on Dean’s face and the other on the back of his neck.
“You are the best person I know. You’re my everything too, always have been. You’ve endured so much. These eight years when you’ve shared what your father did have been so hard on you; even after he’s gone, he hurts you. You never deserved that. Dean, I want you to know that I’m proud of you,” Cas spoke softly, affection clear in his eyes and a slight sad smile on his face.
Castiel kissed Dean. It was shaky, wet, and brief. Dean was still crying, he cut off the kiss to press his face into Cas’ shoulder because he couldn’t hold it together anymore. The last dam broke, and now Dean knew it would be okay – finally - because Cas was holding him, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his back.
“I love you, Cas,” he choked out.
“I know, I love you too.”