Archive of Our Own

1)

When Dean was a kid, his father constantly moved him and Sammy around. Ever since Dean’s mom had died in a fire in their home in Lawrence, his father had seemed almost afraid to put down new roots. They often lived out of motels and only attended school for a few months or even just weeks before John inevitably moved them again. Sam had always hated it, hated having to always say goodbye to any new friends that he managed to make. Dean didn’t like it either, but he had to be the good son. It wasn’t going to help his dad if he whined all the time. The man had enough on his plate.

They only settled down again in Sioux Falls after one of their dad’s old army buddies, Bobby Singer, reached out and offered a job when Dean was eleven.

Dean had never been particularly good at making friends at school, especially when he knew that he was inevitably going to have to leave. After the fourth or fifth abrupt move, he had stopped making a real effort to get to know the other kids in his classes, not wanting to get attached. So, for the first few weeks at his new school in Sioux Falls, Dean avoided the other kids and all but refused to speak during class, effectively isolating himself. Even the friendlier students eventually stopped trying to talk to the weird, antisocial new kid, leaving Dean on his own.

That changed when, one day, Dean saw a skinny, awkward-looking kid get tripped up by another boy, who laughed and grinned at his friends before walking away, leaving the other boy on the ground. The boy, looking resigned, began gathering up his belongings on the floor while the other kids in the hallway walked around him. No one offered to help.

Dean hovered awkwardly for a few seconds before crouching down and retrieving a book from the floor. “Er, hey,” he said, holding it out to the other boy. “You, erm, are you okay?”

The boy eyed Dean suspiciously, but still took the book back and tucked it into his school bag.

“I’m fine,” he said.

They watched each other warily. Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking down at his scuffed trainers.

“I’m Dean,” he said. He looked up at the other boy.

“Aaron,” the kid replied. “You’re the new guy, right?”

Dean nodded.

It turned out that the two boys shared a lot of the same classes. Both were outcasts, unable to fit in with the rest, and sort of gravitated towards each other, partnering up for group discussions and projects. Aaron even invited Dean around to his house a few times, although Dean never returned the favour, not wanting his new friend to be subjected to the crappy rental he lived in or his usually-drunk father. Aaron’s parents were pretty nice, and his grandfather, who lived with them, seemed kind of eccentric but was full of interesting stories and enjoyed relaying them to the two boys.

Dean, being bigger and good at fighting, also protected Aaron from the other kids at school who picked on him. Their friendship was held together more out of necessity than anything, but still, it was nice. Dean liked having someone who he could hang out with at school. He hadn’t known how alone he had been until now.

During recess, Dean and Aaron sat together on a grassy verge in the shadow of one of the school buildings, staying out of the way of the other kids. Mostly, they were successful in not drawing attention to themselves.

“So Sammy, dressed up as Batman,” Dean said, grinning as he retold the story, “jumped off the shed.”

Aaron bit his lip, trying to keep himself from laughing. “So you tricked your brother into jumping off the shed?”

“Hey, I never told him to jump!”

“You jumped first!”

“Yeah, dressed as Superman. He can actually fly!” Dean shook his head. “Yeah, good times. Sam broke his arm, I had to drive him to the E.R. on my handlebars.”

“Wow, really?” Aaron said, his eyes wide as he looked at his friend.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. “Dad was, er, working, you know. Anyway, I handled it. Lookin’ after Sammy’s my job.”

Aaron looked as if he wanted to disagree.

“Er, so,” he said instead, “I guess Superman’s your favourite superhero, then?”

Dean grinned again.

“No, Batman!”

“Come on, he doesn’t even have powers!”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t need ‘em to be awesome! He’s so cool and, like, dark.”

“Superman can fly, shoot lasers, he’s super strong and fast-”

“So? Batman could still kick his ass!”

Aaron scoffed. “No! Superman-”

Dean tackled his friend into the grass. “Batman’s better!”

Aaron, still laughing, tried to push Dean away. The two of them kept wrestling on the ground, giggling at shoving lightly at each other. Dean, with his extra height and weight, as well as his experience at play fighting against Sam, easily managed to pin Aaron to the ground. He was about to say something, assert that he had won the argument, when he heard laughter behind him. He turned to see several of the crueller boys in their year, watching them gleefully.

“That’s so gay,” one of them said, cackling.

All of the rest seemed to agree with him if the continued laughter was anything to go by.

Dean’s face felt hot. He was frozen, unable to move, until Aaron pushed him away, grabbed his lunch bag, and ran. Dean went after Aaron but was unable to find him before the bell rang, signalling the start of the next class.

The sting of embarrassment followed Dean throughout the day, even though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was embarrassed about. The word that the boys had used, ‘gay’, sounded kind of familiar, like he had heard it thrown around before, but Dean had never heard it used against him like that.

He barely listened and didn’t speak in any of his classes for the rest of the day and, after picking Sam up after school and walking home with him, locked himself in his room. He considered calling Aaron, but, in the end, decided against it.

John rarely got home earlier than midnight, so Dean made dinner for himself and Sam. When their dad did finally get home, Sam was already in bed, but Dean was still awake. His dad must have been working rather than drinking. The smell of alcohol on him wasn’t overpowering, he was home earlier than he would be if he had been at the bar, and he didn’t fall asleep when he collapsed onto the couch. Instead, he turned to Dean.

“You make dinner?” he said gruffly.

Dean nodded before going to the kitchen to retrieve some of the leftover macaroni cheese that he had made. John grunted in thanks when Dean handed him the bowl. He ignored the boy as he hovered in front of him, too intent on scarfing down the food. Once he was finished, he dropped the bowl onto the carpet, the spoon clattering from the impact, and stood up, heading towards the kitchen. Dean fidgetted as he followed his father, watching as he rifled through the cabinets.

“Er… Hey, Dad?” John’s response was yet another grunt. Dean took it as a cue to keep going. “What-”

“Ha!” John pulled a bottle out of a cupboard. He went back out to the living room, leaving Dean alone.

He had the bottle uncapped and was taking a long swig when Dean joined him in the living room again.

“Dad,” Dean said. John finally looked at him, raising his eyebrows. “What’s… What does gay mean?”

The scowl that John fixed Dean with made him take a step away, his back hitting the wall.

“Why? You’re not one of those fucking fairies, are you?” John growled.

“N-no.” Dean still didn’t know what he was denying, but the way his dad was looking at him… “No, Dad, I swear…”

“Good,” John said, slumping back against the couch cushions. “Better not be. Fucking faggots,” he muttered before going back to the bottle still gripped tightly in his hand.

2)

Dean’s life in Sioux Falls got better once he got to high school. He began making more friends, especially after he joined the wrestling team. His new friends were pretty cool and popular enough to discourage any bullies from picking on them.

Aaron was at another school now. His family had moved a few years ago. Dean and Aaron had tried to keep in contact for a bit but had eventually drifted apart. It didn’t matter. Dean’s new friends were better.

“Hey, Winchester!” Michael, another member of the wrestling team, called Dean over. The rest of the team was standing around Michael’s locker, talking.

Dean walked over, receiving a couple of nods from the guys before they went back to whatever they had been talking about before. From the sounds of it, Arthur Ketch was bragging about making out with Toni Bevell, a girl who everyone agreed was stuck up but super hot.

Michael turned to Dean, apparently uninterested in hearing about Ketch’s conquest.

“Hey, Michael,” Dean said.

“Hi,” Michael said. “So, listen, Cole’s mom’s out of town, so we’re having a party. You can get some beer and stuff for us, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Dean said. He could just take some of John’s beer from the fridge. He doubted that his dad would notice. “When’s the party?”

“Saturday night.”

“Cool. Sounds good,” Dean said, already mentally making plans about what to do about Sam. The kid was still only ten years old, and Dean didn’t want to leave him home alone or (worse) home with dad. Maybe he could get Sam to see if any of his friends could have him over for the night, or he could call Bobby…?

Dean’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of laughter. He turned to see a kid in his year, Alan Corbett, flushing as the boys around Dean cornered him against the lockers.

“What’s up, fag?” Cole Trenton said, grinning at the kid.

Corbett had only started at their school a few months ago and had quickly latched on to Ed Zeddmore, Harry Spangler and their weird little group. After a rumour had started that Corbett had a crush on Ed, he had been pretty much ostracised. Loads of Dean’s wrestling friends had taken to bullying him about his suspected queerness.

Dean had never exactly joined in on the bullying. He could still remember the humiliation of the dreaded ‘gay’ insult being used on him. So he didn’t engage with the harassment. But he didn’t make any effort to stop it either.

“Aw, is the fag gonna cry?” Ketch called, making a couple of the people around him chortle.

Dean swallowed. He couldn’t go against his friends, then he’d be up for ridicule with Corbett, but the kid looked miserable. He was staring at the floor, tears welling in his eyes. Cole shoved him back against the locker, laughing.

“C’mon, Cole, lay off ‘im,” Benny Lafitte said.

Cole turned to Benny, looking gleeful at the prospect of a new target, then seemed to think better of it when confronted with the burley cajun boy. Instead, he turned back to Corbett, who had taken the temporary distraction as an opportunity to flee. Cole stuck his foot out, making the other boy trip and almost fall. He righted himself at the last second before stumbling away, his face red.

“Why’d you stand up for the fag, Benny?” Michael asked, apparently holding none of the same reservations that Cole did. “You gay as well?”

Benny raised an eyebrow. “Jus’ didn’t think you gangin’ up on the poor guy was fair, brother.”

Cole scoffed but stayed silent. Michael rolled his eyes before turning to Dean again.

“Never took Lafitte for a queer,” he muttered before clapping Dean’s shoulder and raising his voice again. “So, see you at Cole’s?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, trying and failing to smile. His stomach was in knots and his mind was reeling. He finally managed to force a grin. “Yeah, sure. Definitely.”

3)

In Dean’s senior year, Lee Webb moved to Sioux Falls, joined Dean’s high school and signed up for the wrestling team. He got along well with all of the guys, Dean included. Lee was awesome, and he and Dean had even hung out together a couple of times without the rest of the team. It turned out that they were both interested in cars (Lee was very impressed with Baby, the ‘67 Chevy Impala that Dean had inherited from his Dad) and old rock music. Even John, after meeting Lee, had said, “that Lee kid ain’t bad,” which, from him, was a ringing endorsement.

Near the end of the school year, Lee hosted a party at his house.

A few hours into the party, Lee sought out Dean and took him into one of the empty bedrooms. The two of them shared a bottle of whiskey that Lee had stolen from his parents between them.

“So, I saw you talkin’ to Lisa before,” Lee said, referring to the head cheerleader, Lisa Braeden. He turned to look at Dean with narrowed eyes. “You gonna make a move?”

“Nah,” Dean said, feeling looser and more relaxed thanks to the alcohol. He stretched out across the bed they were sitting on, propping himself up on his elbows. “I like her, sure, but she’s… I dunno. She doesn’t want to just hook up, she wants something long-term, and I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“I get it,” Lee said, sitting back so that he was level with Dean. “Don’t want to tie yourself down to one person yet. Gotta see what’s out there, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed

He reached for the bottle and took another drink. He was about to put it down on the floor when Lee wrapped his fingers around Dean’s and tugged the whiskey in his direction. Dean watched, his mouth falling slightly open, as his friend brought the bottle to his lips and drank, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Dean’s eyes followed the movement as Lee lowered the bottle, and licked his lips. Dean unconsciously mirrored Lee, his own tongue flicking out over his mouth. Lee glanced downwards before he looked up, his eyes locking with Dean’s. Their hands were still joined around the neck of the bottle.

Dean wasn’t sure who leaned in first. All he knew was that, suddenly, their lips were pressed together. Lee pulled away first. He pushed the bottle away (it hit the carpeted floor with an audible thud) before climbing on top of Dean and kissing him again. When one of Lee’s hands began wandering up Dean’s shirt, skirting across his chest, Dean gasped at the contact and pushed Lee off him. Before he had time to think (and panic) too much, he pulled his shirt over his head before moving to straddle Lee.

Suddenly, as he looked down at the boy under him, Dean was reminded of another incident. He remembered playing with Aaron, their childish, innocent game tainted by the cruel accusation. Gay. This was… This was exactly what those boys had accused him and Aaron of. Being gay. This was what his dad had been so disdainful of.

He should probably stop, he should tell Lee that he didn’t want this…

Lee pulled Dean down, kissing him again, snapping Dean out of his panicked thoughts.

Dean had kissed girls before. He had even lost his virginity to Rhonda Hurley, who had been in the year above him. Thinking about her and some of the things that she had persuaded him to do still made Dean blush with both embarrassment and lust. Making out with Lee was like those experiences and, at the same time, a world away from them. Lee was rougher, and Dean found that he really liked it. He liked that he could feel Lee’s light stubble scraping against his skin, he liked that he could feel hard muscles under him rather than soft curves. And he found that he liked when Lee manhandled him so that he was laying on the bed again with Lee over him.

It was early the next morning when Dean blinked awake and found himself in an unfamiliar bed with a blanket pulled up over his bare stomach.

He heard a grunt next to him and turned his head to see Lee, his back to Dean as he slept. The sight of the other naked guy in the bed was all it took for the memories of the previous night to replay in Dean’s mind. His brief panic returned tenfold. He scrambled out of bed, getting tangled in the sheets and nearly falling onto the floor in his haste. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall, his wide eyes caught on the sight of Lee’s broad back, muscles moving as he rolled over. Dean froze, his breath caught in his throat, as he waited. Lee didn’t wake up.

Dean barely stopped to pull the worn jeans that he had been wearing last night back on and retrieve the rest of his clothes from the floor before he all but ran out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I’m not gay, he told himself as he moved as silently as he could through the house. I’m not gay. I like girls. I’m not gay.

He repeated the mantra to himself as he found his car and drove home. He parked the Impala in the driveway of his house and spent a few minutes pulling his clothes back on and trying to make himself presentable before slipping out and going in through the back door, hoping that nobody else would be awake.

It was just Dean’s luck that his dad was on the couch, watching some news channel on TV. Dean froze when his dad looked up as he tried to sneak past to get to his bedroom, a deer caught in headlights.

“Where’ve you been?” John grunted, squinting at his son. Dean spotted a few bottles on the floor next to him.

“Um, there was a party…”

John stared at Dean for a few more seconds before laughing. “You find a girl or something, son?” When Dean didn’t answer (too terrified that John would sniff out the lie, would be able to tell what he had done), John chuckled again. “So, she pretty, this girl?”

Dean forced himself to nod. John grinned before standing up and making his way over, his gait slightly uneven. Dean flinched when his father clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s my boy, right there. The Winchester blood in you,” he said, his words slurring slightly. “Got an eye for the ladies.”

He laughed again before circling back around to the couch. Dean was still paralysed as his dad turned his attention back to the TV. Two conflicting memories replayed in his mind. He remembered Lee’s lips, kissing his mouth, his neck, working their way down his chest…

…And he could remember John’s answer when he asked what gay meant.

“You’re not one of those fucking fairies, are you?”

“I’m not,” Dean muttered to himself as he turned away and went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. “I’m not gay.”

4)

After Dean graduated from school, Bobby offered him a job at his garage. John, now that Dean was working a full-time job, turned up to work even less. Secretly, Dean was glad. It was getting tougher and tougher to be around his dad. So much of the stuff that he had tried to ignore or endure was coming to the surface, marring the image of the man that had once been Dean’s hero.

Bobby was a good boss. He gave Dean a fair wage and, while he still wouldn’t take any shit from his employees, he was still, for the most part, the surly father figure that Dean had grown to love.

Sam was on track to get into a good college. He was hoping that he would be able to study law and had high hopes for getting into Stanford. The kid was crazy smart and, with Dean saving every dollar that he could to help out, he had high hopes for his little brother’s future.

His brother was seventeen now. He just needed to get through his last year of school, then they’d be free of John.

Dean was tinkering with the Impala (it had been a pretty slow day and Baby needed a tune-up) when he heard a car pull up outside the garage. Checking the time, he figured that it must be the client that Bobby had said would be coming in. Apparently, the guy’s car had been vandalised and he needed someone to repair the damage. He walked outside and watched as an old truck pulled up outside the garage.

The windshield of the truck and the front windows had been shattered. The guy driving the truck pulled to a stop before opening the door and jumping down onto the ground. He was quickly joined by the guy who had been in the passenger seat, who stood close by his side.

The first man appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He was stocky and his head was shaven, but he did have a short beard which was mostly black but did have a bit of white in it. The other guy looked to be the same age as the first and had brown skin and black hair.

“Hey,” Dean said, holding out his hand. “I’m Dean.”

“Jesse,” the driver said, shaking Dean’s hand. “And this is Cesar.”

Cesar smiled and nodded at Dean when he shook his hand. “Hi.”

“So, is it just the window?” Dean asked, looking over the man’s shoulder to frown at the truck.

“Er, no,” Jesse said, scratching the back of his neck.

Dean followed him around the side of the truck and found himself sucking in a breath. Deep into the paint was scratched one word, all letters capitalised. FAGGOTS .

“Oh…” The quiet sound left his mouth without his permission. When he tore his eyes away from the word, he saw that Jesse’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were steely and hard. Cesar had his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, looking more resigned than angry.

“The back window was smashed as well,” Cesar added. “And there was some other damage…”

“Can you fix it?” Jesse asked, turning his stony glare on Dean.

The double meaning of the question was clear. Dean swallowed, shifting under the scrutiny of the two men.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “‘Course. Er, the windows, I can do in a few hours, but the,” Dean gestured in the direction of the side of the car where the word was scrawled, “is gonna take a bit longer. Maybe a couple of days.”

Jesse didn’t move, his body still tense as if he still expected a fight, while Cesar nodded.

“That’s fine. You’ve got our number, you can call us when it’s finished,” the man said to Dean.

“Good.” Dean smiled awkwardly. “I’ll just take a look at the back.”

He circled the truck, Jesse and Cesar following behind him. There were a couple of indents in the bumper, probably made by some kind of bat by the looks of it. Dean winced in sympathy. He looked up at the shattered glass before his eyes caught on a small, square sticker under the window. He looked away, irrationally afraid that he would give something away if he stared at it too long.

“Yeah, I think it’ll be about a week,” Dean said. He hesitated, feeling his eyes stray to the sticker again. The pride flag sticker. He swallowed before turning back to the two men. “Maybe you should get rid of the sticker,” he said with an awkward laugh.

He told himself that the glare that Jesse gave him was unreasonable. He was just trying to help, trying to give them some advice that would, hopefully, keep things like… like this from happening in the future. He wasn’t the jerk here.

“I mean,” Dean said with an awkward laugh, “you gotta know, Sioux Falls isn’t exactly the most… ya know, progressive place. Look, I’m not saying… I… You just shouldn’t advertise-”

Dean was cut off by Jesse trying to take a swing at him. Dean dodged out of the way and Cesar held the other man back. Jesse let himself be pulled back against Cesar, but his glare didn’t let up and his mouth twisted in a disgusted snarl.

“So what? We were asking for it?” Jesse spat.

“I didn’t say that, I just-”

“C’mon, Cesar,” Jesse snapped, turning away after sending Dean a withering glare. “We’ll find somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to!” Dean called after them as the two men as they went back towards the front of the truck. “Look, I’m sorry, I just know what people around here can be like. I’m not homophobic, I swear! I…” Dean almost found himself spilling his guts over every time he had ever doubted his sexuality, but he found himself choking back the words. He couldn’t do it.

He watched helplessly as they got in the car and drove away. His face burned red and his throat felt dry. He wondered what he’d tell Bobby.

5)

Dean and Sam both moved to California after Sam got a scholarship to Stanford. Dean had never been prouder of his brother.

California wasn’t so bad. It felt pretty good to be away from John and Dean had managed to find another place willing to hire him. He missed Bobby and some of his other friends back in Sioux Falls but, for the most part, he was content. He had his brother, and Sam had never been happier. He had loads of new friends from his school, even a girlfriend, Jessica Moore.

Dean, meanwhile, had found himself alone more and more. Sam had his own life now, he didn’t need his older brother hovering over him anymore. So Dean found his own ways to occupy his time.

Usually, whenever Dean wanted a drink, he would go to his favourite place, Harvelle’s Roadhouse. The bar was run by Ellen Harvelle, her daughter, Jo, and some weird genius guy, Ash. Dean liked all of them but, currently, he wasn’t looking for the company of friends.

The place he chose instead was small and, most importantly, anonymous. There were about a dozen patrons around the bar, most of them clustered in groups of three or four. Dean examined them all carefully. He didn’t recognise any of them.

Dean’s eyes finally focused on one of the few people drinking alone. The man was older than most of the other people in the bar and was wearing a tan trenchcoat. His hair was dark and messy and, when he turned and met Dean’s eyes, his irises were a startlingly beautiful shade of blue. The light caught the man’s eyes, making them appear to glow. The man smiled, his lips curving up slowly, and Dean suddenly found it harder to breathe.

Pull yourself together, he told himself before fixing his most flirtatious smile to his face and striding over. He leaned his side against the bar, his body turned towards the man as Dean gave him a smouldering look, taking note of the rumpled suit and messy, backwards blue tie the guy was wearing.

“So,” he said casually, leaning closer to the man. “You come here often?”

The man’s brow furrowed. He squinted those gorgeous blue eyes at Dean, inclining his head to the side as he regarded him.

“Dean,” he said. “You told me to come here. You texted me this morning.”

“Figure of speech, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he sat down beside the man and waved to the bartender.

He could feel Castiel’s eyes on him as he ordered. He looked around coyly once the bartender left to get him his drink.

“So, did it hurt?” he asked, unable to resist flirting a bit more. He just loved watching Castiel’s forehead wrinkle and the way he would tilt his head like a confused puppy.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said. (And there was the puppy look. Damn, this man was adorable). “Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from Heaven?” Dean asked with a wink.

“I never…” Realisation dawned. “Oh, you’re implying that I’m an angel.”

“There we go,” Dean said. He leaned in, bringing his lips close to Castiel’s ear, and whispered, “So, angel, what say you and I pay for our drinks, then get out of here and go back to your place?”

“Wasn’t that already the plan?” Castiel asked, squinting again.

Dean pulled back and pouted playfully. “You’re no fun.”

They did as Dean said. They quickly finished the drinks in front of them and paid before going out. Castiel didn’t have his car (apparently a friend had dropped him off after work) so he rode with Dean in the Impala. Dean grinned as he watched Castiel bob along to the Led Zeppelin music he was playing. The first time the other man had heard Dean’s old rock music in the car, he had been confused, telling Dean that he had never heard any of it before. Dean had resolved to educate him. He was even working on a mixtape of his favourite Led Zeppelin tracks to give to him.

After a few minutes of driving together, Castiel’s hand crept onto Dean’s thigh. He didn’t try to take it further, he just left his hand there, his palm warm through Dean’s jeans. Dean felt his face growing hot. He turned to give Castiel a small half-smile, trying to ignore his sudden self-consciousness.

It didn’t take long for them to make it to Castiel’s apartment. Dean found it and parked easily, this wasn’t the first time he had been here. The man’s place was small but clean and comfortable. The bedroom and the living room both had tall shelves of books, many of which looked old and well-loved. Dean noticed that Castiel’s old laptop was sitting on the floor in front of the couch as they went in the direction of the bedroom, shedding their clothes along the way.

Castiel pressed Dean against the door, kissing him roughly, his fingers threaded in Dean’s short hair. Dean groaned, his head thudding back against the wood. Castiel chuckled as he began kissing Dean’s throat, his free hand pressing against Dean’s lightly toned stomach, feeling his muscles flex as Dean breathed and gasped.

“What are you doing?” Dean whined when Castiel pulled back. “Don’t stop!”

“There’s a perfectly good bed right there, Dean,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes. “I thought that we might use it.”

Dean huffed. “Fine.” He turned around, flopped down on the bed and raised an eyebrow at Castiel. “Happy? Are we gonna do this?”

“What happened to me being an angel?” Castiel teased as he kicked off his black slacks.

“Right now, I’m leaning more towards devil,” Dean grumbled.

“Lucifer was an angel as well,” Castiel said as he crawled onto the bed, getting closer and closer to Dean.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, feeling slightly breathless from Castiel’s proximity. “I’m not one of your students, Mr Religious-Studies-Professor. Stop lecturing me.”

Castiel smiled at Dean, who found himself blushing again. He couldn’t help it, Castiel just had that effect on him, with his stupid earnest smile and his soulful blue eyes and his general dorkiness.

Castiel taught religious studies at Stanford. Dean had first seen him when he had been picking Sam up from campus one day. His younger brother had been eagerly chatting with the professor, looking like an excited puppy. Castiel had been smiling. He always smiled when talking about things he was enthusiastic about. Dean had gone over to them, telling himself that he was just saying hi to his brother. The three of them had talked for a few minutes (apparently Sam was thinking of joining Castiel’s class, saying that a few of his friends had said that it was really cool) before Sam had bounded away to throw his stuff into the car. Dean had taken the opportunity to ask Castiel if he wanted to meet up later.

That had just over three months ago. Dean had initially believed the first time to be a one-time thing, but then Castiel had texted him again, asking for another round, a request which Dean had happily obliged. The movie nights and hanging out at each other’s apartments during their free time had begun after their fourth hook-up after Castiel’s dearth of pop culture knowledge had become evident.

It was the longest relationship Dean had ever been in.

Dean woke up to find vibrant blue eyes watching him through the darkness. He smiled lazily.

“You get your rocks off watching people sleep?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, pressing closer to Dean. “But you’re just so beautiful.”

Damnit, Dean could only hope that the darkness hid his blush. He scoffed instead, looking away from Castiel’s intense gaze.

“Flatterer.”

Castiel laughed and Dean felt his soft lips brushing against his jaw. Dean laid back, enjoying the feeling of Castiel’s lips dragging slowly across his face, neck and chest. He tangled his fingers in the dark hair at the nape of Castiel’s neck.

“I don’t have work today,” he volunteered to Castiel, who hummed in response, preoccupied with gently kissing Dean’s chest. “Maybe, if you’re not busy, we could hang out, watch some movies, and, you know,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows when Castiel looked up at him, “cuddle.”

The confused look that Castiel gave Dean was adorable. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow but was unable to hide his smile.

“Okay,” he said. “I’d like that.”

It wasn’t long before they were on the couch, Indiana Jones on the screen as they alternated between watching and leisurely making out. Both of them had on boxers and a shirt, and a blanket was layered across their laps. For the most part, they hadn’t strayed beyond kissing or occasionally feeling each other up, keeping their wandering hands above the waist. Sometimes, Castiel would stop whatever he was doing to ask for an explanation for something on the screen. His grasp of pop culture was lacking, but Dean didn’t mind. On the contrary, he enjoyed talking over all of his more nerdy interests with Castiel, who always listened with his full attention, as if whatever Dean was saying was the most interesting thing in the world.

“So, what should we watch next?” Dean asked as the credits began to play, signalling the movie's end. “We could keep up the Harrison Ford theme and watch Bladerunner or Star Wars, or we could try some classic horror. Have you seen The Exorcist ?”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said, snuggling closer into Dean’s side. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you choose.”

“ Star Wars it is then,” Dean said after a few seconds of deliberating. “Can’t go wrong with Star Wars, it’s a classic.”

“That sounds good, Dean.”

Dean turned to grin at Castiel. His smile faltered at the serious look on Castiel’s face.

“You okay, buddy?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel said. “I just… I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go out to dinner with me?”

“Er… Okay, Cas,” Dean said, unsure. “I get off work early on Thursday, I could pick up some pizza before coming over here. Or you could meet me at my place, I don’t mind.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said, reaching out to grab one of Dean’s hands. “I mean, we go out somewhere. I know this diner, it’s not much, but-”

“Wait, like a date date?” Dean asked, eyes widening. “Cas, I… I can’t.”

Castiel visibly deflated. He curved away from Dean slightly, and his eyes lowered.

“Okay. I just thought…”

Dean had never been known for making intelligent decisions. Sam had always been the smart one, the sensitive one. Maybe he would have said the right thing. Or, even better, maybe he would have known to keep his mouth shut.

“Sorry, Cas. Look, we have a good time, but I don’t date guys.” Dean should have stopped, but he couldn’t. All of those old insecurities were surfacing again. He felt like he had to explain, he couldn’t let anyone get the wrong (or, quite possibly, the right idea). “I’m not gay.”

Castiel looked up at Dean again, the hurt in his eyes mixed with disbelief.

“Are you serious, Dean?” he asked, shifting away from Dean, putting some space between them. Dean wanted to reach out, but the look on Castiel’s face stopped him.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but I’m not.” He forced himself to chuckle, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’m a ladies' man, through and through.”

“I’m not a woman, Dean, in case you haven’t noticed,” Castiel said icily.

“I know that,” Dean said. Why couldn’t Cas just understand, why did he have to ruin everything with things that Dean didn’t have answers for? He crossed his arms and glared back at Castiel. “I know that, okay, Cas, but… Look, I’m fine with what we have now, but I don’t date guys.”

“And what do we have now, Dean?” Castiel asked. He was sitting ramrod straight as he stared unblinkingly at Dean, waiting for an answer.

“We’re just, ya know, having fun. Relieving stress. It’s,” Dean didn’t know why he kept going as Castiel’s eyes got colder and colder, “convenient.”

“Convenient,” Castiel repeated flatly.

“Come on, I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t want to just be convenient, Dean. I thought…” Castiel’s frosted facade cracked briefly, showing the vulnerability underneath. “I thought you liked me.”

“Come on, Cas, I do like you, but-”

“But I’m not a woman. And you’re not gay.” Castiel suddenly stood up, walking over to the door of his bedroom and leaning against the frame, his back to the other man. Dean shifted awkwardly, wondering if this was a dismissal, if Castiel wanted him to leave.

“Cas-” Dean finally said.

“I’m not gay either, Dean.” Castiel looked over his shoulder. “I’m pansexual. Gender doesn’t matter to me.” He turned fully towards Dean again. “What is this really about? If you really care about me-”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” Dean said heatedly. “Fucking hell, Cas, why do you have to make things so complicated?”

Castiel glared at him, and Dean found himself glaring right back, his jaw clenched as fury flared inside him. When Castiel failed to answer, Dean pushed himself off the couch and got in his face.

“Come on, tell me! Why are you acting like such a bitch?”

“I don’t know, why are you acting like such a-a- an assbutt?” Castiel snapped back at him.

Dean made a frustrated sound. He was too irritated to even tease Castiel about his strange approach to swearing. He didn’t have an answer, but he wasn’t going to admit that Castiel may be right. All he knew was that he wasn’t gay, he couldn’t be gay. What would Sam think of him if he knew he had been hooking up with one of his male professors? What would his dad say if he knew what Dean had done with Lee? What would everyone who knew him, who knew Dean Winchester, think if they found out that he might not be completely, one hundred per cent, not gay?

“I think you should leave,” Castiel said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

“What?” Dean shook his head, his mouth falling open. “So you’re just kicking me out because you’re pissed I won’t go out with you?”

“No,” Castiel said, advancing on Dean, forcing him to back away from him. His dom act would be pretty hot if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I’m kicking you out because I don’t want to be with someone who just sees me as a convenient, ” he spat the word at Dean, the venom in his tone making the other man wince, “body to use.”

Dean suddenly realised that he was standing in the hallway outside Castiel’s apartment. Castiel disappeared inside for a few seconds and, before Dean had time to move, he was back. He shoved Dean’s jeans, overshirt and jacket into his arms before taking a decisive step back. They were now separated by the doorway, with Dean on one side, Castiel on the other. The gap between them felt unimaginably vast to Dean. There was a way to bridge it, Dean knew, but he couldn’t do it.

“Goodbye, Dean,” Castiel said.

The door shut between them. Dean was left standing on Castiel’s doorstep, holding his clothes against his chest as he stared at the wooden barrier, wondering where everything had gone wrong.

+1

To Cas: can we talk?

To Cas: cas?

To Cas: im sorry ok

To Cas: PLEASE just talk to me

Dean sighed in frustration and threw his phone onto the passenger seat of the Impala. He was waiting outside of Stanford for Sam. It had been two weeks since Castiel had kicked him out of his apartment. Dean tried to tell himself that it didn’t really count as a break-up since they hadn’t really been in a relationship but it still felt like he had been dumped.

He had been texting Castiel since last week. He felt bad for how things had gone down (and, okay fine, he wanted Castiel back). Without him, he was miserable and alone. Sure, he had Sam and a couple of other friends he had made in California, but none of them made him feel as happy and safe as Castiel had made him feel. None of them could make him laugh or smile as Castiel could. And none of them except for, perhaps, Sam, felt as much like home as Castiel did.

So, at this point, Dean was willing to grovel, beg, offer some pretty kinky sexual favours and agree to go on whatever date Castiel wanted if only he would let him into his life again.

Dean hit his head against the wheel of the Impala. “C’mon, Cas,” he muttered.

He startled when he heard the door next to him open. Sam dropped his bag onto the seat next to him as he got into the car. His younger brother had really begun to stretch out, getting taller and lankier.

“Hi, Dean,” Sam said. He was about to continue, probably to launch into yet another rant about his classes or his teachers, when Dean heard his phone buzz.

“Move!” Dean dove for the phone, shoving Sam aside to get to it. “Come on, come on!” He turned on the phone, and…

From Jo: want 2 come 2 the roadhouse 2nite

“Damnit!” Dean dropped the phone back onto the seat.

He had almost forgotten about Sam until his brother cleared his throat.

“You’ve been acting weird since last week,” Sam said. “Is something wrong?”

Dean sighed. He couldn’t tell Sam. He just couldn’t.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sammy.”

His brother’s mouth puckered at the hated nickname but, otherwise, he didn’t comment. Dean finally looked up. Maybe it was fate when his eyes immediately focused on Castiel, who was wearing his usual suit and trenchcoat. A woman with dark hair was talking to him. Dean narrowed his eyes as he felt jealousy rise in his chest.

He should go over there. He should tell Castiel, face-to-face, how much he missed him. And he should get that… that woman away from him! Who did she think she was?

But then, Sam would have questions. Everyone around them would see him begging Castiel for a second chance.

“Why are you glaring at Dr Novak?” Sam asked.

“What? I’m not!” Dean said, forcing himself to look away.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You don’t need to yell at me, I was just asking.”

“Well… Don’t, okay? Because one, I wasn’t glaring, and two, it’s none of your business,” Dean grumbled.

“Fine,” Sam said, holding his hands up to appease his older brother. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Dean wondered if Castiel had seen him. Maybe he was just ignoring him, still angry about their last interaction. Had he even read any of Dean’s texts?

“Dr Novak’s been really down apparently,” Sam said conversationally, either not reading or simply ignoring the tension radiating from Dean. “His cousin Hannah, she’s in a couple of my classes, said that she thinks someone broke up with him.”

“Really?” Dean said, feeling his stomach twist.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “My friend Mick keeps saying that he’s gonna make a move now.”

“Mick? The British guy?” Dean said, trying not to imagine someone else swooping in and taking Castiel from him. “I didn’t realise he was gay.”

“He’s bi, Dean,” Sam said with an eye roll. “He likes men and women.”

“Huh.”

Sam must have taken the small sound for disapproval. He turned to his older brother, his eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Don’t be such a homophobe. Most of my friends are queer. You remember Charlie? She’s a lesbian. Max is gay, Jack’s non-binary, and Jess is asexual.”

“Jess is what?” Dean asked, unfamiliar with the term Sam had used.

“She doesn’t care about sex,” Sam explained, still glaring at Dean defensively, as if he expected his brother to berate him, tell him off, scoff, or just start yelling, like their dad would have. When Dean didn’t say anything, he kept going. It was like they were kids again, and Sam was trying to get a rise out of John. “Ruby and Anna are both bi, and they’re dating now, Gabe’s pansexual, Jo’s bi-”

“Jo? Like, Roadhouse Jo?” Dean said, stunned.

“Yeah. She and Charlie have been on a couple of dates.” Sam was still tense, still waiting for the blow that was never going to come.

He thinks I’m like Dad, Dean realised with an unpleasant jolt.

“So come on, let’s hear it,” Sam said. “Say whatever you’re-”

“I’m bi,” Dean blurted out. “I’m bi,” he repeated, his voice stronger this time, “and I’m going to date a guy.”

Sam’s mouth hung open as he stared at Dean with wide, shocked eyes. Dean didn’t let his brother’s shocked reaction deter him. He was on a roll. He threw open the door of the car and strode out.

“Going to?” he heard behind him.

He marched over to Castiel. Blue eyes locked with his green ones and widened in surprise as he drew close. Dean could feel other people, including Castiel’s female companion, staring at him. He didn’t let that stop him.

“Dean-” Castiel started.

“Hey, Cas, you wanna go out for dinner with me?” Dean said, ignoring the woman, who looked amused as she watched the two of them.

Castiel just stared at him. The woman cleared her throat.

“Well, Clarence,” she drawled. “Looks like your boy toy came back.” Castiel shot her a glare, making her laugh. “Guess I’ll leave you to it. If you ever need a third-”

“Goodbye, Meg,” Castiel said, shoving her shoulder lightly.

The woman cackled, winked at Dean and then sauntered off. Castiel looked back at Dean, whose eyes had never left the other man’s face.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was a dick, and I’m really sorry,” Dean babbled. Now that they were alone and Castiel’s eyes were staring deep into his, the emotion in them unreadable, he felt like he had to apologise, he had to make Castiel know how sorry he was and how much he wanted him back. So, basically, it was time for him to grovel. Maybe later, if Castiel said ‘yes’, Dean would get on his knees… “I really missed you, Cas. And I was stupid, and a, you know, whatever you said, an assbutt, and I am really sorry. Just… give me another chance, please? I know I don’t deserve it, but-”

“Dean,” Castiel said breathlessly, cutting off Dean’s begging. “Shut up.”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut. Castiel was smiling, and Dean found himself beginning to hope. He was sure that, if Castiel was going to reject him, he would just do it outright rather than jerking him around.

“Is that a yes?” Dean finally asked hopefully.

“Can I kiss you?” Castiel asked. “I mean, yes, of course, yes, but-”

Dean kissed Castiel, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Castiel made a muffled, surprised noise. Then he kissed back, his hands coming up to cup Dean’s face. Dean blinked when Castiel pulled back after only a few seconds.

“This is my place of work, Dean,” Castiel reminded him, humour in his tone. “So, when are you free?”

“Er,” Dean said, still reeling from the kiss. “I’m free tonight.”

“Perfect,” Castiel said, stroking his thumbs over Dean’s jaw. “So am I.”

“I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“6,” Castiel confirmed. “I look forward to it.”

“Same,” Dean said. He snuck in another quick kiss before gently detangling himself. “See you tonight.”

“Bye, Dean,” Castiel said, smiling as he watched Dean walk back towards his car.

Sam’s jaw was still hanging open as Dean got back into the Impala.

“You’re gonna catch flies, Sammy,” Dean said as he started the car. “So, where d’you wanna go for lunch? Oh, and I’ve got a date at 6, do you want me to drop you back at your place?”

“You’re dating Dr Novak?” Sam asked in a strangled tone.

“Yup,” Dean said happily, looking back towards where Castiel was still standing.