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Dean Winchester didn’t kiss boys.
He didn’t thread his fingers through short dark hair, didn’t rub his stubbled cheek against a freshly shaved one, didn’t crave kisses from chapped pink lips. He didn’t need the heavy weight of another boy’s body in his lap, warm and ready, pressing so close that Dean could feel his heart beat through the thin material of his t-shirt.
That wasn’t the sort of guy Dean was. He was a ladies man, a womanizer, following in his dad’s footsteps. He turned heads wherever he went. He was the boy that other boys wanted to be, the one girls wanted to be with.
His lines had just got a bit crossed somewhere because there were boys who wanted to be with him too, who had their heads turned by Dean, and sometimes they turned his head too.
Castiel was gorgeous. He was good, wholesome. He was an Angel, a literal one, with wings and all, and Dean had been fascinated from the moment he’d seen him.
It was the first time he and Sam had transferred to a mixed school. They’d never attended any before that had Angels in them. Their Dad didn’t trust Angels. They might be mostly humanoid, but they were still supernatural creatures with wings and powers, even if those powers were limited since they were earth-bound.
Dean should have kept his distance, but, knowing that Castiel was off-limits made him even more tantalizing.
There was a reason forbidden fruit was more exciting.
He’d noticed Castiel watching him. He could feel the Angel’s eyes on him everywhere; in class, in the corridors, in the lunchroom. Castiel didn’t seem able to keep his eyes off him. It had been unnerving at first, even to someone like Dean, who was adept at dealing with people having crushes on him, but then he’d grown used to it. He’d begun to like the attention.
Knowing he was the subject of an Angel’s desires, knowing that Castiel watched him as if Dean was the center of his universe, went straight to Dean’s head. Sam always accused him of being conceited, but now Dean was practically strutting his way through the corridors at school.
His pride and the reason for it wasn’t something Dean could explain, not even to Sam. He didn’t think his brother would care that Castiel was an Angel or that he was a boy, but that didn’t mean Dean could talk about how he felt.
When Dean was a baby, before he even knew what Angels really where or what had happened to them, his mother used to tell him that Angel’s were watching over him. Now there was an actual Angel gazing at him with such intensity that Dean got lost staring back at him.
This wasn’t like the pure “watching over” that his mother had meant though. Dean knew lust when he saw it. Castiel wanted him. He wanted him in a way that would have gotten him barred from Heaven if the Angels could still get in. It wasn’t the first time a guy had looked at him like that, but it was the first time Dean had been more than flattered, that his heart beat had sped up, that he’d started sneaking glances back to see if Castiel was still watching him.
He’d started to notice things about Castiel that he hadn’t before. He noticed the blue of Castiel’s eyes, a shade that had before seemed normal, now seemed unearthly when Dean really took the time to study them. He noticed that Castiel’s shoe laces always came undone, that the sleeves of his shirt were too long for him. He noticed that Castiel’s wings, huge and black,quivered appreciatively when Dean looked at him.
Dean had had dreams before, insubstantial and fleeting, where he’d been with guys but the men in those dreams hadn’t had names, hadn’t had faces. Now his dreams were filled with Castiel, with his name and his face and his great big black wings that stretched out wide and beautiful for Dean’s touch.
For weeks it had only been the two of them staring at each other, neither saying a word, Dean having confusing dreams and breathless fantasies that left him with sticky sheets and a burning need to feel Castiel’s feathers under his fingers. They hadn’t even spoken to each other. Dean only knew Castiel’s name because he heard it during attendance.
Then fate intervened and Dean ended up paired with Castiel for a presentation.
One afternoon locked up in Castiel’s bedroom, trying to analyse the finer points of Mercutio's role in Romeo and Juliet and find a way to explain it to their class, and Dean couldn’t take it any longer.
Not only was Castiel gorgeous; he was smart as a whip. Dean could have listened to him talk for hours. Castiel’s voice was deep and husky and even sounded sexy when Castiel was just reading out a bunch of boring facts.
So Dean felt he couldn’t really be blamed for the fact that he’d reached out and stroked his fingers gently across Castiel’s wing, trying to distract both of them from their research. Castiel’s feathers were as soft as he’d imagined they’d be, but the little moan Castiel let out at the touch of his hand was better than anything Dean had ever thought up.
Castiel had stiffened then, his cheeks going pink and he pulled his wings instinctively close to his body, away from Dean’s inquisitive fingers.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye. “Don’t go. We can pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t want to,” Dean said.
Dean knew how to flirt. He’d charmed his way into any number of girl’s panties, but that line didn’t come out as he’d intended; it sounded too desperate, too hopeful. He didn’t want to pretend it hadn’t happened. He didn’t want to ignore the possibility of what could happen between them. He wanted more - more of Castiel, of his moans and the soft warmth of his wings and everything else it was possible to get.
Castiel shifted in his chair, turning to look Dean straight in the eye. Then, deliberately, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dean’s. It was the hint of a kiss, so tentative Dean didn’t really know what to call it, but it was there and real.
“This is what I want,” Castiel said, looking at him nervously, as if he was ashamed of what he was admitting. “I really like you, Dean, as more than a friend. I don’t know if you realized that.”
Dean had smiled. Castiel obviously had no idea how obvious he was or any inkling of Dean’s feelings.
“Yeah, I got that,” he’d said, chuckling softly. “I don’t want to be friends, Cas. I want to do things to you that you really don’t do to a friend, starting with kissing you and getting a handful of those feathers of yours.”
Castiel had licked his lips, paused for a moment to collect himself, then launched himself into Dean’s lap and kissed him. It was messy, a tangle of teeth and tongue, and it was clear that Castiel had never kissed anyone before, but, it was still the best kiss Dean had ever had.
After that, he and Castiel could hardly keep their hands off each other.
**
Castiel was a warm, comfortably heavy, weight in his lap. Dean liked having him close, liked to bury his fingers in Castiel’s wings and kiss him until they were both panting and breathless. He knew Castiel got hard, could feel him through the rough denim of his jeans as Castiel straddled him, the bed frame creaking under them. At first, that had been a bit unnerving, the feeling of another boy’s cock against his own, but now he liked knowing he could turn Castiel on like that.
There had been a couple of hurried hand jobs, and one messy attempt at a blow job where Dean had come to quickly and Castiel had nearly choked, but, mostly they kept their clothes on and ground up against each other; coming in their pants. It was safer than undressing. Privacy wasn’t something Dean could say either of them had.
At Castiel’s house there was the rest of his family to worry about, Castiel had seven brothers and sisters, while Dean lived in a motel with his dad and his brother.
Taking Castiel back to the motel was always skirting danger, but, sometimes they didn’t have a choice. Besides, Sam had joined some after school club and Dean’s dad was often busy with a hunt and that meant Dean had the motel room to himself for a few blissful hours after school.
Just enough time to ignore his homework in favor of exploring all of Castiel, hands gripping and grabbing, fingers sliding up underneath his t-shirt, down the back of his jeans, and playing with Castiel’s pretty feathers.
Dean sometimes thought he could probably get Castiel to come just by playing with his wings alone.
He was so wrapped up in Castiel that he didn’t even hear the key in the door.
“Dean!”
His father’s voice was sharp, angry. It came like a whip crack, breaking through everything else and filling Dean with cold dread.
There were things Dean wasn’t supposed to do; that his father would never accept. Finding Dean alone in their motel room, enthusiastically making out with a boy Angel was one of them Dean had always understood that any deviation from his father’s point of view wouldn’t be tolerated. John Winchester wasn’t about to walk away and pretend he hadn’t seen what he’d seen.
Dean tensed, pulling away from Castiel, but Castiel was like a stone in his arms, his wings spread out wide in a gesture of fear as he tried to make himself look bigger and stronger in the face of John’s anger.
“Dean,” his father said again. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Dean licked his lips, feeling his chest tighten and his breathing quicken. He couldn’t get any words out. He wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. Everything with Castiel had been so good, had felt so right, but, he could hear the disgust in his father’s voice.
Castiel managed to move then; untangling himself from Dean and standing up. His wings, puffed up, looked huge.
Dean hoped his father knew the posture was a fear response; that he didn’t think Castiel was threatening him. Castiel might just have been a kid, the same age as Dean, but John didn’t see Supernatural creatures as people.
“Cas,” Dean said, finding his voice although it came out angrily, filled with his own fear. “Cas, get out.”
“Dean?” Castiel turned to look at him, confusion written all over his face.
Dean thought about his father’s collection of guns, his knives. Castiel had healing powers, all Angels did, but he’d been born on Earth. He was cut off from Heaven. He could be as vulnerable as any normal teenager.
“Get out!” Dean growled.
Dean knew Castiel would hate him and didn’t blame him. He could see the fear in Castiel’s eyes, the confusion, and he wanted so badly to hold Castiel, to tell him why, but he couldn’t. He just needed Castiel to leave.
Castiel took a few hesitant steps towards the door and John Winchester moved so the way was a clear for him. Castiel vanished into the outside and Dean slumped back down onto the bed. At least Castiel was safe. Whatever was coming, only Dean would be punished. .
“An Angel? They’re monsters, Dean. Monsters who could have saved your mother and didn’t.”
Dean shut his eyes tight. He heard his father shut the door, heard his footsteps as he crossed the room.
“And a boy! Were you trying to make me angry?”
“No,” Dean said, opening his eyes although he didn’t want to see what was coming.
“You disgust me,” John said. His fingers closed around Dean’s wrist and he yanked him up off the bed. “What’s wrong with you?”
Dean didn’t say anything; he swallowed back his anger and bowed his head. He already knew it was better to accept John’s ranting and raving. A few bruises for being a disappointment were better than answering back. It would be worse if he answered back.
**
It stopped when Sam came back.Sam could shout and scream and not be punished. It had always been that way for as long as Dean could remember. John took his anger out on Dean, but not Sam. With Sam, he just walked away.
John had paused only to grab his wallet before he left, probably for some bar, and then it had been just Sam and Dean.
“He’s wrong, you know?” Sam said, sitting down next to Dean. He left a gap between them with enough space for Dean to decide if he wanted to move closer or not. Dean stayed. “I mean, he’s wrong about the Angels being able to save mom. They’d fallen.”
“I know,” Dean said softly.
“And he’s wrong about the other things too. I don’t care who you like.”
“I know,” Dean said again.
Sam was quiet for a long moment. The silence between them was comforting.
When Sam spoke again he was almost whispering. “I know she died before I could really know her, but I don’t think mom would have cared either. I think she would have wanted you to be happy.”
Dean closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. He was sure Sam was right, but, somehow that made things worse. If their mom had still been alive everything would have been different,but, she wasn’t. They were left with just their dad who couldn’t see past his prejudices and viewed his own children as weapons in his battle against the thing that killed their mother. To him, Dean was just a soldier who’d broken rank and had to be disciplined.
**
Dean didn’t want to go to school but staying home wasn’t an option. His dad had made that clear. He wasn’t talking to Dean, and that meant it was time to shape up and follow orders. Truthfully Dean didn’t want to be home when his dad was there; it would only lead to another argument, more insults. His father was a volatile man and the slightest thing could set him off.
However, going to school meant seeing Cas and facing what had happened. Dean didn’t want that. Castiel could only see him as a coward after last night.
He could just not go to class, avoid Castiel and school completely, but if John found out Dean had skipped school there’d be more trouble. The best thing to do was keep his head down, avoid everyone, and just try to make things normal again.
In class he ignored the looks Castiel cast him, ignored the notes thrown his way, or the fact that Castiel got Meg, who sat between them, to jab him in the ribs in an attempt to get his attention. He had his books packed away before the end of each class and rushed through the door before Castiel got a chance to follow him. Then he ducked into the shadows at the end of a row of lockers, waiting until everyone else was in the next class, before entering late; ensuring that Castiel couldn’t try and talk to him before class.
He made it until lunch time before Castiel cornered him.
“I want to talk,” Castiel said.
“Yeah,” Dean said miserably. He had known this was coming, but, already hurt, those words felt as if someone had just rubbed salt into his wounds.
“Janitor’s closet?”
He hoped Castiel could at least be kind to him; do this far away from prying eyes in a place no-one was likely to overhear them. Dean didn’t think he could deal with being publicly outed and then dumped.
Castiel nodded.
The walk down the corridor was the most uncomfortable one Dean could remember. He was painfully aware of how close Castiel was to him, and even more painfully aware of all his inadequacies. It seemed to take forever to reach the non-descript brown door. It should have been locked, but the lock was busted. It had been a great place to bring his conquests, but, now it was the place he was going to get his heartbroken by Castiel.
It shouldn’t matter. Dean had broken a lot of hearts in his time and it wasn’t as if he’d even be staying in town much longer; not after what his dad had seen the night before. Soon Castiel probably wouldn’t even remember Dean’s name.
That thought, and the idea of not seeing Castiel again, made Dean feel sick.
“Just get on with it,” he snapped, stepping inside the closet and shutting the door tight behind them. “Just tell me that you don’t want to see me again and get out.”
“Dean.”
Castiel sounded hurt. He looked hurt, his eyes wide, his wings jerking agitatedly.
“Well that’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” Dean demanded. “I’m a coward. I didn’t stand up for you. I didn’t...I didn’t stand up to him.”
“Dean, he’s your father,” Castiel said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He burst in on us and his reaction was….” he paused, searching for the word.
“Terrifying?” Dean suggested.
“Yes, terrifying,” Castiel agreed. “I should have stayed. I should have stayed with you and I hate myself because I didn’t. I thought you must hate me too.”
“What? Cas I told you to go and you did the smart thing. He would have hit you or worse,” Dean said, shuddering as he remembered how frightened he’d been for Castiel, how he hadn’t know what his dad would do. “He hates Angels and I don’t think he would have held back just because you’re a kid.”
“Did he hit you?” Castiel asked, his eyes growing somber and dark.
“Shoved me around a bit, but I’ve had worse. I’m fine. He just shouts mostly,” Dean said.
He didn’t want Cas looking at him so intently, didn’t want him thinking that Dean was some damaged kid. He didn’t need to be pitied. He and Sam didn't talk about their home life, their mom's death or their dad’s drinking, or his hunting. If they did someone would get worried and then social services might conduct an investigation. He and Sam could be split up.
“I don’t like him,” Castiel said softly.
Dean shrugged. In an ideal world, he’d like his dad. He loved him because he was his father, but liking him was a different matter. John Winchester didn’t make it easy. He demanded respect and blind obedience, but Dean didn’t think that was something he could give any more.
“He’s my dad,” he said slowly,“Until I turn eighteen, it would just cause a mess if I did anything. I need to turn eighteen and then I can take Sam and we can get away from him. I don’t want him filling Sam’s head with his hate and I want to be able to kiss you without worrying about him.”
“You want to? We’re not breaking up?” Castiel asked hopefully.
Dean hadn’t put a name to what they were or what they were doing together. He’d carefully avoided labeling it, but now he guessed that they’d been boyfriends since that first time in Castiel’s bedroom.
It felt good to think of Castiel as his boyfriend. It was liberating in a way Dean hadn’t expected.
“No, I don’t want to break up,” he said. “I mean, we have to be careful. It’s more sneaking around and we can’t go back to my place and I get if you don’t want to do that….”
Castiel stopped him with a kiss.
“It isn’t perfect, Dean, but I want you to be safe and I know this is the way to do it,” he said. “Until you’re eighteen, we can keep it a secret.”
Dean didn’t know what to say. He’d been expecting anger, recrimination. He hadn’t expected Castiel to understand.
“Cas….” he murmured, pulling the other boy close to him so he could kiss him again, long and slowly this time. “Thank you.”
Castiel’s wings came up, encircling them in a way he’d never done before. It made Dean feel safe. With Castiel, he knew what it was to have someone in his life who wanted to protect him. He hadn’t realized that that had been missing before.
Sometimes, when it was the right one, Dean Winchester did kiss boys.
And one day soon, when Dean turned eighteen, he wasn’t going to hide it anymore.