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“What do you mean you can’t come?” Dean presses the phone between his shoulder, his hands busy packing up the papers he really needs to grade this weekend.
“Dean—“ cough “I know it means a lot to you but—“ sneeze “I—“
He grabs the phone with his hand, deflating a bit at his boyfriend’s shoddy attempt to speak through what is definitely a nasty cold. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. I’ll come home, make some chicken noodle soup, and we’ll say screw the whole damn thing.”
“No!” Cas’ vehemence causes another coughing fit that Dean has no choice but to wait out. It lasts another thirty seconds before he hears Cas drink what better be flat 7-Up and clear his throat. “You’re up for Teacher of the Year and I’d never forgive myself if you weren’t there to accept the award you deserve.”
Dean sighs, rubbing his free hand over his face. “It’s not going to be the same without you there.”
Cas hums thoughtfully. “At least you won’t have to deal with Mick Davies flirting with me all night.”
The blood boiling beneath his skin is practically a Pavlovian response to hearing the name of that smug, arrogant, can’t-keep-his-eyes-to-himself, douchenozzle. Dean groans at the realization that this means he has to spend the night with his coworkers (and Mick) without the easy, knowing glances he and Cas have gotten so good at using as a private form of “get a load of this guy”. Literally and metaphorically he is being thrown to the sharks without a cage but he knows his boyfriend well enough that he won’t take “I’m not going” as an answer.
Still, he bristles at the thought of Mick Davies’ snide remarks. Where is that boyfriend of yours? Is dear Castiel finally on the market?
He lets out another groan and Cas chuckles through the receiver eliciting another round of small coughs that cements Dean’s agreement in his boyfriend sitting this one out.
Doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“Fine, Cas. I’ll go, but I’m coming home and making you some soup first.” Dean shoulders his work bag, shuffling for his keys as he walks through the large front doors of Lawerence High. His entire fifteen minute drive home is riddled with mixed thoughts of worrying about Cas and seething over an un-buffered night with British McGee. For what it’s worth, Dean does a bang-up job of just ignoring the guy during staff meetings and assemblies, but since they’re up for the same award tonight, they’ll be seated at the same table.
Thank god Charlie will be there, too. The reminder of his best friend settles the bubbling annoyance a bit and he’s secretly grateful that she’s up for Supreme Technology Wizard (or whatever the fuck she calls it) for the fifth year in a row. She’ll win without a doubt, and the knowledge of that makes Dean smile.
Three hours later, Dean’s retracing his route back to the school. Cas is definitely worse for wear and it’s pinging all of Dean’s mother hen tendencies that he’s not being a helicopter boyfriend right now. He assured Dean it was fine after the eighteenth time he asked before Cas slid under the covers and promptly fell asleep. Dean left with a soft kiss to a clammy forehead and the sinking feeling in his gut that there’s nowhere he’d rather be than in that bed right now.
But alas, Lawrence High Staff Recognition night waits for no man—sick or otherwise.
He is, however, feeling much better about the whole Mick situation. Glancing down at the coat which is so not his style, he smiles. This trenchcoat has been an (affectionate) point of contention in their relationship since the moment Dean practically ran Castiel over coming out of their local coffee shop. He was stunned at how someone so attractive could wrap themselves in something so fugly.
Over the last two years though? This trenchcoat has become one of Dean’s favorite things in the world entirely because it’s presence means he’s somewhere near Cas.
Tonight though? He’s using it as a statement piece. A loud fuck off to the man who just can’t seem to take a hint. Maybe Mick won’t recognize the coat but Charlie will and she’s never been one to keep her mouth shut. She’ll also undoubtedly know exactly what Dean’s doing but his best friend dislikes Mick as much as the next guy so Dean’s banking on her playing along.
He pulls Baby into his designated parking spot and heads into the school. The dress shoes Cas insisted were necessary clack against the recently cleaned floors and he feels uncomfortable in the monkey suit Cas also insisted he wear. “You’re accepting the award for Teacher of the Year, Dean. You deserve to look the part.”
Even if Cas didn’t sneeze seven times during that sentence, Dean would’ve been helpless to tell him no.
The trenchcoat swishes around him as he walks and while it’s not the first time he’s worn it, it’s definitely the first time he’s felt powerful while doing so. Maybe it’s the little green monster he has no business hanging out with or the knowledge that, even without Cas here, he’s still claiming his boyfriend—either way, Dean waltzes into the gaudily decorated cafeteria with a swagger he hasn’t felt since he was in college. He’s not jealous, not really, mostly because he knows Cas only has eyes for him. If he wasn’t so damn sure of it, there certainly wouldn’t be a little gold band burning a hole in Baby’s glovebox.
“Handmaiden!” Charlie practically screams when she spots him. Waving him over to the VIP table reserved for nominees. He smiles brightly, trenchcoat flapping behind him as he crosses the cafeteria. He’s a little late—chicken noodle soup requires being made from scratch and Cas is cute when he’s sick—so all the other nominees are already sitting and chatting. Thank christ Charlie saved him a seat next to her; his heart sinking only a little bit when he notices the other empty seat for Cas. If he could be here, he would be and Dean isn’t going to let his boyfriend’s untimely cold damper the evening. Walking around the table, he spots Mick talking animatedly with the art teacher and is caught off guard when he’s pulled into a rib crushing hug.
“Hey, Charles.” Dean laughs into a head of red hair. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”
She backs off smiling, “Of course. Where’s your dreamy beau?”
“Sick as a dog and probably dead to the world.” Dean grimaces. Pulling out his phone to quickly shoot off a text of well wishes.
Charlie pouts for a second but then a twinkle dances in her eye and Dean knows he’s being read like yesterday's headlines. “So, did he send the fugly trenchcoat in his place?”
The laugh Dean barks out is half genuine and half an attempt to get the table to pay attention. Dean lays it on thick, “He doesn’t know I took it off our coat rack, but I figured it’s won him a few awards so maybe it’ll be good luck for me.”
It actually has been around for all six of Cas’ award-winning novels being published and working their way up the New York Times’ Bestseller List. Dean would argue the trenchcoat has nothing to do with Cas’ brilliance but his boyfriend seems to think it holds some sort of supernatural power that helps him write. Who’s Dean to argue with a tried and true method that’s worked six times and counting.
Mick, for what it’s worth, just looks Dean over once and turns back to Mrs. Mae who has yet to stop raving about the senior art show—completely oblivious to the territorial bullshit going on. Charlie just smirks knowingly. “Well,” she sing-songs, “here’s hoping some of Cas’ good juju rubs off on you and not his gross cold.”
Dean settles into the chair, laughing and nodding in agreement. “You can say that again.”
Ten minutes into the program and it’s hot in the cafeteria. Logically Dean should pull the coat off but in a weird way, it’s pulling double duty. While it definitely shut Mick up—the teacher barely looking in Dean’s direction once—it’s also doing a hell of a job calming Dean’s nerves.
When Charlie gets up to accept her award, Dean’s stomach is in knots. He’s next and while he has not grandiose notion that he’ll win, he wishes Cas were here to hold his hand while Principal Shurley waxes poetic about their “brilliant nominees for Teacher of the Year”. He chances a quick glance at Mick who looks like he’s practically half out of his chair and read to storm the stage. Cas would be laughing in his ear right now about pretentious teachers and useless accolades to make him feel better when he eventually loses and—
“This year, we are proud to announce that our Teacher of the Year is Dean Winchester—Literature and Pop Culture.”
The applause gets drowned out by his disbelief. Charlie has to literally hoist him from the folding chair he’s been glued to for an hour now and he barely feels his feet carry him to the rickety stage where the administration team waits with a small plaque and outstretched hands. He nods politely, thanking each of them for the recognition and then awkwardly salutes to the crowd of his peers who all had a say in him winning.
He’ll never know how he got back to his seat but when he does, he’s faced with a red-nosed, teary- eyed, Cas beaming at him through Charlie’s phone. Dean takes it from her, sending a look of I owe you one over the iPhone which Charlie waves off.
Cas coughs twice and then smiles. “I’m so proud of you.”
Blushing, Dean smiles. “Thanks, bee. How ya feeling?”
“Horny.” Cas answers matter-of-factly, with a smirk causing Dean to choke. “We’ll have to talk about why you’re wearing my coat.” The knowing tone in his boyfriend’s voice tells Dean Cas is already well aware of the reasoning. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t doing a number on me seeing you wear it.”
Dean’s blushing (again) and Castiel laughs. It’s staccatoed by his coughing but it’s infectious all the same.
It’s about then that the noise starts to pick up around him as people pack up to leave now that the program’s over. A few people pat Dean on the back in congratulations as Dean and Cas say their quick goodbyes, Dean promising to be home as soon as possible. When he lifts his head from Charlie’s phone, looking for the woman herself to thank her, he’s met with Mick Davies, clearly waiting his turn.
“Congratulations, Winchester.” Mick attempts genuine.
“Thanks, man.” Dean feels uncomfortable, Charlie’s phone awkwardly perched in one hand, the plaque precariously held in the other, and the guy he’d really rather never interact with again seeking him out.
Mick gives him another once over. “Nice coat.” And then he walks away leaving Dean feeling like the dog at the park who up and marked every tree. He smiles to himself, satisfied that Mick won’t be a problem anymore and that he had a little piece of Cas with him tonight.
When Dean gets home, he finds his boyfriend curled up in one of his old sweatshirts and watching Dr. Sexy reruns on their couch. After hanging the coat on the rack, Dean kisses Cas on the top of his head. “Heya, Cas.”
Cas smiles up at him, “Hello, Dean. I’m so proud of you.” Dean can’t help but lean in and kiss him then—cold be damned. His immune system is pretty good considering he works in a cesspool for a living.
He smiles as they break apart. “I’m just going to go change and then I’ll come out to watch the next episode with you.” Cas just hums his affirmative and turns back to the TV.
He’s never been more in love.
Dean has been planning his proposal for weeks—reservations and outfits and the perfect mixtape—that’s why when he pulled the ring from the glovebox he shocked even himself. Now, he reaches into his pocket and pulls the small box out, surveying the gold band nestled inside and the subtle honeycomb pattern he knows Cas will love.
After that he quickly changes into some pajama pants and an old t-shirt that he honestly can’t remember if it’s his or Cas’. Firm in his decision, he slips the small box into his pant pocket and feels it weigh down the soft cotton.
Sure, a trenchcoat is one way to show the world that he’s the luckiest man on Earth, but coming home to Cas’ stirred up a whole new form of want. So, as Dean walks into the living room and catches his boyfriend’s bright smile (even though the raging cold), he knows it’s the perfect time for something a little more permanent.