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Dean sat on the hood of the Impala and waited for Cas to come out of the high school. Ever since he'd been caught sneaking out to sit with Dean in the parking lot his teacher had been stricter on the 'no lining up at the door' rule. It was fine, really, just meant that Dean had a few minutes of thinking time. Which equated into a few minutes of 'plan how to successfully murder half the football team without getting caught'. And wow, Dean was spending too much time with Cas if he was seeing air quotes in his goddamn head.
It wasn't like high school was a time in anyone's life where they were surrounded by tolerance and love, the support of a community found within the student body. High school could be anywhere from a fun time to the worst four years of someone's damned life. For some reason, the star halfback, Uriel, seemed to be aiming to make it the latter for Cas. After Dean's fourth in-school suspension, Cas told him he didn't need to start a fistfight every time someone decided to be a massive dick.
The look on Cas' face as he stalked out of the main entrance made Dean question if that was really true.
He jumped down from the hood as Cas approached, a look on his face that was made for killing. "What the fuck did he say?"
Cas didn't bother with trying to pretend he didn't know exactly who his best friend was indicating. Instead, he looked over his shoulder where Uriel was standing with a group of similarly minded jerk offs. Of all the shit, they were literally pointing and laughing in their direction. Now, Cas wasn't the poster-boy for intimidating—not at first glance anyway—but Dean had been on the receiving end of one of those swift punches and it wasn’t something he’d ever volunteer to repeat. It may have been an accident (Cas had been aiming for the wall, but aim was kinda relative when you were a little high), but it was still the only time someone had truly staggered Dean and made him feel wobbly.
The look Cas was shooting at Uriel as he perched against Baby's front end reminded Dean of that time. Where he'd said something just stupid enough to shred the last of Cas' good sense and send him hurtling straight into the foggy area where emotions and actions were one and the same. For a moment Cas didn't speak, simply ground his jaw and huffed as he tried to work through whatever internal diatribe was taking so much willpower and focus.
When Cas did start to talk there was a bitter laugh bubbling in the back of his throat, sounding about the same as the first time he threw up from a hangover. "Just Uriel's usual brand of scathing wit and religious slurs."
Dean clenched his fists and noticed Cas' leg bouncing, tension and intent making him jittery against the pavement and warm metal. "What did he say, Cas?"
"Before or after he called me a faggot?" It wasn't the most creative, certainly not as jarring as mud monkey, but it still cut deep. The same word Cas' father had used shortly before he died. Dean made to move but Cas grabbed his arm. "If you go now, you'll beat him to death."
"And that's a bad thing?" Across the lot Uriel was doing some pretty intensive macho posturing, noticing Dean's movements and Cas holding him back. The entire group joined in, chests puffed out like they were a horde of gorillas.
Cas pulled him back until they both sat against the Impala's hood. Dean was half a minute to saying fuck waiting for the attendant, risking another suspension to just get them the fuck out of there.
A resigned sigh told Dean how much Cas really did just want to let him loose, maybe even join in kicking the shit out of them. "They'll expel you if you start another fight like the one with Azazel."
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. Most of the comments on his or Cas' sexuality were based in the usual from teenagers: standing too close to someone, sitting too near when there was plenty of room. Basically any form of human contact with someone of the same sex that wasn't already pre-approved and labeled bro safe.
Of course since Dean and Cas had been friends from the cradle, certain standards weren't observed. Like when Cas fell asleep on him on a school camping trip. Or when Dean clutched to Cas for fear of his sanity the last time John had been in town. And not only was explaining any of that not worth it, but it would probably only make matters worse.
Instead of boarding their buses or getting into their cars, the entire group just stood around making lewd gestures and hollering like they had all the time in the world. Dean turned to his best friend, wondering if he was finally losing it or maybe turning out to be a genius like his little brother always swore. "You trust me, Cas?"
Bright blue eyes snapped to him, a curious squint narrowing them. "Of course, why—"
Dean pushed away from the car and moved to stand in front of Cas. "Then just roll with it."
Cas just watched him for a moment, probably already aware of what Dean wanted him to roll with. Casting a final glance back to the group, all of them oddly silent and shell-shocked, Dean smirked and pushed himself flush to Cas. His hands fastened to his best friend's hips, Cas' went to his chest, eyes wide and frantic.
Dean leaned in until they were almost kissing, a few catcalls already ringing out. "They watchin'?" Cas looked over Dean's shoulder and nodded, breath fanning out over Dean's face in ragged pants. "Good."
He closed his eyes when he pressed their lips together, the sensations of it more intense. Cas melted into him, thin fingers sliding up until they cradled his jaw. There was a persistent shaking making Cas vibrate and rattle against him, small sounds bitten off in the back of his throat. Someone yelled out for them to get a room and somewhere behind and to his left Bela Talbot shouted boys gone wild and Dean would have flipped her off if it didn't mean removing his hands from Cas. There was a feeling in his chest, almost like something imploding. It reminded him of the way buildings tumbled down and apart, breaking with a beautiful sequence better than dominoes cascading in a line.
All he felt was the sun on his face, cooler than Cas' hands and breath and almost frigid compared to the heat of the other teen's mouth fastened to his. Maybe if he'd been paying attention he would have known when one of their mouths opened. Instead it was kind of a surprise to realize that Cas was sucking on his tongue, his entire mouth tasting like one of those green mints their English teacher set out.
Time had been moving slower, seeming to trickle by as slow minutes when a full sixty seconds probably hadn't even passed yet. Cas broke away first, chest heaving as he tried to draw in long breaths. Dean leaned in to follow his mouth, unaware of when exactly it transitioned from a shock tactic into something he wanted to do with Cas, preferably with that long body laid out under him and wearing a lot less clothing.
"We should leave." Cas' voice was rougher, his eyes darker. A pale flush was climbing up his tan skin, eyes once again darting to look over Dean's shoulder. "I think one of them went to get the principal."
Dean couldn't speak, he just nodded, hesitating to let Cas go just yet. Their bodies went closer, contradicting the alarm bells ringing and sirens blaring internally that said they should really fucking book it. Then again, what could the principal do? If he yelled at them, he had to yell at Meg and Luke who were damn near fucking just two rows behind the Impala. They weren't the most liberal town, but giving anything short of a stern warning would definitely be ill-advised.
Cas made a face that looked like he'd been shot and kissed Dean again, a trembling whimper shaking his throat. The sound was so weak Dean almost wondered if it had come from him instead. The sharp bite of Cas’ nails in his skin felt like hooks on chains, tugging and yanking him closer. His own hands went from Cas’ hips to the swell of his friend’s ass, pulling them together.
A sharp gasp broke them apart, Dean looking down to where their bodies were pressed together. “You’re hard.”
Cas swallowed and nodded, looking up at Dean like he had the power to break the world in half. “So are you.” A moment passed where nothing more was said, then Cas chewed on his lower lip, Dean’s eyes tracking the flash of white over spit-slick skin. Something inside him cracked with the knowledge that it was his spit there, too. Cas was talking, but Dean was too busy watching the movements and leaning in to lick the words out of Cas’ mouth. “Dean?”
Dean looked up to Cas’ eyes, tunnel vision whiting out everything that wasn’t Cas and his car. “Sorry, what?”
A fleeting smile brightened the blue swimming in front of him, Dean’s own face mirroring the expression almost on reflex. “I asked why you kissed me.”
Their foreheads rested against one another, the sounds of the world around them slowly fading back in. He was more aware of Cas’ cock pressed into his hip, subtly pushing against it until Cas hissed and pushed back. It was a dangerous game to play in the middle of the parking lot, a staff member likely to break them up at any moment. Part of Dean wanted them to see, wanted to have an adult drag them apart and find the front of Cas’ jeans bulging just like Dean’s were.
Dean cleared his throat and worked around the lump constricting his breathing. “They have to come after both of us, now.”
There were the first signs of tears in Cas’ eyes, quickly being stuffed back down and Dean knew that song and dance—was probably where Cas learned it. If you didn’t cry at your own parents’ funeral you sure as fuck didn’t cry anywhere else in public.
Another kiss was shared, this one feeling inappropriate being on display for just anyone to see. Cas closed his eyes and sniffed hard, blinking rapidly as he looked off toward the track and field. His arms wound around Dean’s neck, Dean’s hands sliding up to gently rub at Cas’ lower back. The zipper on his fly was still digging into his cock and he knew Cas wasn’t much better off.
There was something between them more than just mind blowing kisses that Dean hadn’t anticipated. The weight of Cas’ breath on him, the taste of his lips and skin and the feeling of Cas so open and wanting made him swell further, blood pumping fast to fill him up so he could fill Cas. All the closeness they shared—friends all their lives and first to jump physically or verbally to the other’s defense—had bred an intimacy between them that rivaled the glorified whirlwind romances of cities filled with lights and wine.
No, what he and Cas had was something less talked about. It was dependability, loyalty, absolute trust and love that was fostered in blood and tears. Their bond was forged and reforged as they grew, four dead parents and a lot more dead memories. Late nights of drunken laughs and miserable morning hangovers. Bright eyes and falling in love without even knowing that had been what they were doing.
Dean pressed another kiss to Cas’ lips, chaste and soft. He felt Cas twitch against him, his own body throbbing its agreement. “Stay at my house tonight?”
Cas exhaled slowly and nodded, face upturned and eyes fastened to Dean’s. “I’ll stay with you.”
All Dean could hear was the same voice ten years younger, I sleep better in your bed, Dean.
An echo of his own reply swam around the memory, well you never have to leave, then. You’re my brother, too, Cas.