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“We’re way too old for spin the bottle,” Castiel says.
“Come on, man,” Dean says. “It’ll be fun!”
“It will not be fun. It’s stupid. And irresponsible with a mixed party --”
“Like any of the alphas here can’t handle themselves over a kiss!”
Castiel just looks at Dean and sighs. “Do whatever you want. I’m not participating.”
Dean finishes his bottle of cider and hollers for everyone to join in the circle. It’s a mixed party, that’s for sure: alpha lesbian Charlie; anything-that-moves omega Gabe; doesn’t-like-anyone omega Castiel; alpha lesbian Dorothy who may kill anyone who puts their eyes on Charlie; alpha hetero (gross) Sam; alpha totally-bi Dean; omega hetero (gross) Jo; omega het-something Ruby, making googly eyes at Sam; omega heteroflexible Ash; alpha hetero (gross) Garth.
There’s only one of them Dean wants to kiss, but he’ll go through this charade if it means he gets a chance. And it’s not like he’d mind kissing most of them that aren’t his brother. Like reading his thoughts, Sam says, “Can we all agree that siblings don’t have to kiss each other?”
“Yes!” Cas, Gabe, and Dean all say at once.
Dorothy rolls her eyes. “All right, boys, don’t get your panties all in a twist before we even start.”
“I’m not playing,” Castiel says again.
“Yes you are,” Dean and Gabe both say, then give each other thumb’s up.
“You could use a sexual outlet,” Gabe says, nodding gravely at Castiel.
“What he said,” Dean says.
“If I have to do this shit, then Castiel has to do this shit,” Gabe says. Then: “Who am I kidding, I’d kiss anybody. Bring it on!”
“We know,” Charlie groans, “gross.”
“I’m not sure I’m drunk enough for this,” Jo says.
“Listen up!” Dean hollers, louder than necessary in the small space. “We are spinnin’ this bottle, and then we’re going to do some kissin’! Happy New Year!”
Everyone laughs, all tipsy and loose on champagne, lucky to be with friends and not outside in the larger world as it falls apart. As if thinking about it -- what’s happening outside -- Castiel says, “Okay, fine.”
They circle on the floor in Charlie’s living room, Dean’s empty cider bottle in the middle. “Who starts?” Gabe says, rubbing his hands together.
“Someone less creepy than you,” Dorothy says. She grabs the bottle and spins it.
It lands on Jo, who giggles and accepts a close-mouthed kiss from Dorothy. Charlie spins next and gets Gabe, but he manages to hold himself back and doesn’t incur the wrath of Dorothy. It’s not until Ruby that things get interesting -- she must’ve cheated, somehow, because the bottle points at Sam and she kisses him with so much filthy promise that he is bright red when they part.
Dean tries to land the bottle purposefully on Cas, but he gets Jo instead, who grins and says, “Step right up, Winchester.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “This should be illegal based on the siblings rule,” he says, leaning across towards her.
“This was your idea,” Jo says.
When they kiss, her lips are parted. He kisses her a little fuller, a little longer than necessary. Why not? She grew up crushing on Dean, and why shouldn’t she get her own bit of wish fulfillment from this stupid game?
Cas gets Ash and there’s tongue.
Dean sees his own alpha for a moment, the red swimming in his vision while he rages on the inside. But he’s a grown up and he shoves it down immediately, hoping no one noticed the change in his eyes. For that quick second, he was ready to kill Ash for laying claim to what Dean wants as his own.
Charlie and Dorothy go to the kitchen and bring back another round of shots of fireball. Half the room groans, but Dean downs his without even waiting for the “cheers.”
Gabe kisses Sam with even more dirty than Ruby managed. Garth kisses Charlie, raising a placating hand towards Dorothy as he does so. Charlie and Dorothy kiss, and it goes on so long that the rest of them start to clap and cheer, all except Cas, who just sits there turning his shot glass around and around.
Another couple of rounds, and pretty much everyone has been kissed by everyone else and the game has lost it’s luster. They circle separates and Dean heads to the kitchen for more of those potato skins Ellen sent along with Jo, the perfect way to rinse the taste of Ruby out of his mouth. When he comes back out, Castiel is out of sight.
“He’s on the porch,” Charlie says, like Dean doesn’t ever do anything without Cas by his side. Which he doesn’t.
Outside, they watch the orange of flames on the horizon in silence for a minute. It’s all anyone does anymore: waits for the other shoe to drop, for their own world to end. Dean realizes -- really knows for the first time -- that this could be his last night. Bombs could rain down on their little part of the city. But if that’s the case, it’s not so bad. At least they would go out together.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean finally says.
“Hey, Dean,” Cas says.
Even in the dim light, Dean can see that Cas’s omega is showing, summer sky eyes replaced with tundra-gray. “Are you ok, Cas?”
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas says, sounding like an exhausted liar.
“Are you going into heat? I can give you a ride home -- you know I’m not going to flip --”
“Trust me,” Castiel says, “I know you’re not going to go red.”
Dean just stares, unable to find any words that don’t sound like I hate seeing you touched by someone else or I’ve been in love with you since college and didn’t realize it until goddamn armageddon.
“You and Jo,” Castiel says. He doesn’t extrapolate.
“You know Jo. We all grew up together. She’s like a sister to me.”
“You liked kissing her.”
“I mean. I’m not knocking down any doors to do it again, Cas. You know that.”
For a moment, Castiel looks almost relieved, and then something cold as steel and so very sad comes back through his omega gray. “Our bottles never landed on each other.”
Dean points as something far off explodes, a mushroom cloud reaching into the bible black sky. It’s enough to end the conversation, but Dean doesn’t let it fade off. “You wanna kiss me, Cas?”
Castiel looks at Dean. He’s half-profiled from the light inside. Dean can hear the rest of them laughing, another round of shots suggested and approved, the chatter of friends busy pretending things are just like always. “Yes,” he says simply.
Dean loses his mind for a moment. It’s the red again, hitting him like a punch in the gut twice in the same night, like he’s a teenager popping boners in math class. With a steady hand, he reaches and cradles the part of Cas’s face that’s glowing from starlight and firefight, then presses his mouth against Cas’s.
At first, Castiel doesn’t react at all, but then he’s growling and clenching his hands in Dean’s shirt to pull him closer and licking along Dean’s closed lips, ready to deepen the kiss.
Why did Dean ever think this was a good idea?
He pulls away, barely, letting himself the luxury of pressing his forehead to Cas’s so they still share whiskey-tasting breath. “Sorry, Cas, sorry,” he says, “I can’t just -- I can’t just kiss you like this and then pretend…”
“Pretend what?”
Dean looks cross-eyed at Cas’s eyes. Gray or blue, they are like a storm. Dean feels sucked in. Dean feels shaken the way he always does around Cas. Dean feels alive. He wants to say nothin’, Cas and go back to being just the best of friends. Instead, he says, “I realized awhile ago -- goddamn it, Cas. I’m so fucking into you. ‘n I can’t just put my tongue in your mouth and go about like it never happened tomorrow.”
“Into me,” Castiel says, his voice faint.
“Feelings,” Dean says. “I have them. About you. For you.”
Strangely, Cas quirks a smile. “You know how sometimes you just wake up so thankful for what you still have? Because there’s so much loss now. But you -- I’m always the most thankful for you, Dean Winchester.”
Dean smiles back. And he lets his alpha have his omega, beautiful and kind and smart Cas. He lets himself kiss Cas with purpose and tongue and all the dreams he used to have about them together. Maybe none of them are possible now, but Dean suddenly has so much hope, he’s bursting with it.