RockStarPeach

Title:  All I’ve Got to Give 
Pairings:  Dean/Cas primarily.  Others include SPOILERS, though I know some people like to be warned. Cas/Sam, Dean/Gabriel, Cas/OCs. References to Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Sam/Jess. 
Summary:  AU story, in which Castiel is a wealthy CEO suffering from a bad case of unrequited love, Gabriel is his dickhead brother, Sam is a happy and (mostly) well adjusted 18yo, and Dean is a high school drop-out working at a garage by day and a bar by night to support himself and his little brother.

*** 

Two and a half weeks later, Dean showed up at Castiel’s place, still dressed in his ratty, grease-covered clothes from the garage, with three hours to go before he had to get to the bar, and work another eight hours. 

Castiel had planned supper for them, but it wasn’t ready yet, and he had other desires that he was feeling increasingly desperate to feed.  He pounced on Dean the second he walked through the door, moulding their mouths together as he walked them into the entertainment room, the closest place with anything resembling a comfortable surface on which to fuck, and pulled Dean down on top of him, on the couch. 

“Is this okay?” Castiel asked, because he’d made it clear that any sex that happened after Dean cashed that cheque would be strictly on Dean’s say so.  “Jesus, Dean,” he said, spreading his legs and bucking his hips.  “Please say yes.” 

“It’s about fuckin’ time,” Dean growled, and fifteen seconds later they were both naked, and Castiel was adjusting himself over Dean’s lap, rolling a condom down over Dean’s leaking cock, and lowering himself down on it. 

It was fast, and hard, and Dean, of course, didn’t come until Castiel told him to, until Castiel already had, had already come down from it and was able to move again, bring Dean off with skilled movements and strategic clenching of his muscles.   

When it was over, Cas pulled off, wiped himself and Dean down with several tissues, and helped Dean discard the used condom, kissed him thoroughly, and got dressed without looking back. 

“Uh…” Dean said, and Castiel turned and smirked at him, while he blearily searched for his clothes, and stepped into them.  “Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell was that about?” 

“Move in with me,” Castiel said, apparently completely out of the blue, surprising them both.  Dean was still half naked, and he froze with his pants around his knees, looking at Castiel like he’d lost his mind. 

“No,” Dean said, low and rumbling, with his face still twisted in what might be confusion or flat out refusal. 

“Why not?” Castiel asked, and Dean blinked at him, pulled up his pants, and huffed, like he couldn’t believe Castiel had even asked.  To be fair, Castiel couldn’t believe he had either.  He’d thought about it, plenty.  Couldn’t even pinpoint when he’d started to want it.  But he did.  He wanted Dean to live with him. 

He was sick of stolen hours between Dean’s jobs, when Castiel had to leave work early, sick of two nights a week if they were lucky, and waking up at two or three every morning, and wishing that Dean was on his way. 

He wanted the few extra hours, the nights and the mornings.  He wanted as much of Dean as he could get. 

“I’ve got a home, Cas,” Dean said.  “I’m happy there.  It’s not the fuckin’ Ritz or whatever, but it’s mine.  And it’s Sam’s.” 

“You’re going to live with your little brother forever?” Castiel asked, his tone somewhat derisive.  It was unfair of him.  He knew that.  Dean was much, much younger than he was, and at that point in his life, especially the life Dean had lived, it was not at all unexpected, or strange, that he live with Sam. 

“Of course not,” Dean snarled, and tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt, to make sure he was completely covered.  “But for now, he needs me.  It makes sense.  Besides, us living together is kind of a bigger commitment than I’m looking for, Cas.” 

“I understand,” Cas told him, nodding.  “And I’m not asking this to try to pressure you into anything.  In fact, I didn’t even mean to bring it up at all.  But now that I have, I think it’s something we should explore.  We don’t get to spend much time together, and being able to come home to each other each night could only be a good thing.” 

“I get that,” Dean told him.  “But no.  I mean it.  We’re not a couple, Cas.  And we’re not gonna be.  So don’t ask again.” 

Castiel nodded, solemnly, and pulled Dean closer, kissing him.  He let his mouth open hungrily, and his tongue snaked out, licked along Dean’s bottom lip, and then his top one, before delving inside, swirling around Dean’s own.  “If that’s what you want, I understand.” 

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said.  “So… are we okay?” 

“Yes Dean,” Cas smiled at Dean’s slight awkwardness, his eagerness for comfort.  “We’re okay.” 

“Okay enough to eat something?” Dean asked, stepping out of Castiel’s hold.  “I’m fucking starving, and I have to be at work in a couple hours.” 

Castiel laughed, and kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth. 

“Follow me,” he said.  “I had someone in earlier to prepare a coq-au-vin, and it should be about ready.” 

“A what?” 

“If you don’t like it,” Castiel told Dean, letting his fingers trail slowly down Dean’s arm.  “I’ll order you a pizza.” 

*** 

Several days passed, and Dean and Castiel didn’t speak. 

It wasn’t altogether unusual, but for some reason, this time, Castiel was feeling that separation acutely.  He’d known, of course, that Dean wouldn’t agree to move in with him.  Hell, the boy wouldn’t agree to actually dating him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

But now that the idea was there, now that it was just a little more real, a little more plain, that Dean was never going to want him, or let himself want him, Castiel was beginning to feel antsy.  Almost desperate.   

And if Dean was so unwilling to admit to his feelings, so determined to keep things casual between them, then perhaps Castiel should embrace that.  Perhaps by focusing all his energy, all his attentions, on Dean, he was suffocating him.   

Perhaps if Castiel took a step back, concentrated more on his work, on his brother, maybe even started to date other people, he could prove to Dean that he could handle casual just as well as Dean could.  Perhaps if Dean didn’t feel so much pressure, he’d come around. 

And perhaps, if Dean knew he wasn’t the only one, he’d finally realise that he wanted to be. 

He knew even as he picked up the phone to call his brother, that this was a terrible idea. He knew it, but Dean had him so messed up and turned around that he wasn’t thinking clearly.  Obviously, since he was somehow under the impression that going out with his brother with the intention of hooking up with random men, probably in exchange for money, was an appropriate way to spend a Thursday night. 
They ended up at a club. 

Some high end number, the type that Gabriel liked to frequent when he was pretending he had class, the type with grossly overpriced drinks, and had waiters and waitresses for rent, if the price was right. 

They spent a little while, and a lot of money, drinking gin and in Gabriel’s case some odd pineapple concoction, and two hours later Gabriel had picked out both a young woman and a young man, and they were sitting on either side of him on the booth seat across from Castiel. 

They were attractive, and smiling, lifting Gabriel’s drink for him, and fitting the straw into his mouth, since both Gabriel’s hands were busy under the table, doing something Castiel was sure he was happier not knowing about.  The girl giggled occasionally, and nuzzled his neck while he carried on a conversation with Castiel, and the man was quiet for the most part, occasionally leaning over to feed Gabriel a piece of fruit from the tray on their table. 

Castiel was not having a very good time.  He should have just stayed at home, gotten some work done, and talked to Dean on the telephone during his break. 

“See anything you like, bro?” Gabriel asked him, licking some strawberry juice off the male prostitute’s fingers. 

“Not really,” Castiel answered flatly. 

“Oh, honey,” the woman on Gabriel’s left (Candy, or Cookie or something, Castiel thought she’d said, so it was a small wonder that Gabriel liked her), cooed at him, smiling her fake, slutty smile.  “I got a couple friends working tonight that would just kill me if I didn’t send a fine thing like you their way.” 

“Thank you, but no,” Castiel answered, short but polite, and wondered if it would be rude if he just got up and left, now.  Gabriel would probably be annoyed, but that hardly mattered. 

“Come on,” Candy insisted, because it was no doubt part of her job to increase business for the other girls.  “I’m sure we’ve got someone here you’d hit it off with.  How do you like ‘em?  Any specific measurements?  Hair colour you prefer?  Like a shy girl, or someone who isn’t afraid to rock your world?”  She finished her question by doing something with her hand in Gabriel’s lap that made him squirm, and groan, and Castiel’s gin nearly came back up. 

The young man on Gabriel’s right was currently sucking a hickey into his neck that Castiel was mildly worried about having to hide for their meeting with Pepsi in the morning, and his hand appeared to have joined in Candy’s efforts to bring his brother off right there at the table. 

Castiel opened his mouth to once again tell Candy that he wasn’t interested, was never interested, and should never have come here in the first place, when Gabriel spoke for him. 

“He likes them with dicks,” he offered helpfully, grinning.  “Pretty much exclusively.  Though, there have been a few times when the tequila was in no short supply, and he was a little free with the love…” 

“Thank you, brother,” Castiel snapped, cutting him off before he could say anything even more embarrassing.  Perhaps go into details. 

“Well hey,” Candy smiled.  “We got plenty of those, too.  What’s your pleasure?” 

“Your hospitality is appreciated,” Castiel told her, with a single nod of his head.  “But I’m afraid I have an early morning.” 

“Aww, come on, Cas,” Gabriel’s cajoling voice taunted.  “Live a little.” 

“You live enough for the both of us, Gabriel,” he told him.  “Don’t forget that our meeting is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.  Don’t leave me to handle it on my own again.” 

“Oh, unclench, Cas.  I’ll be there,” Gabriel promised, and accepted another grape from man next to him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, and nodded politely to the two whores, before going home. 

Yes, he’d been right in the first place.  Going out with his brother had been a terrible idea. 

*** 

Monday afternoon rolled around, and Castiel still hadn’t talked to Dean, though he had pleasured himself four times, picturing Dean under him, around him, inside him, and whimpering Dean’s name as he coated his fingers in sticky white. 

He received a text message from Dean that afternoon while he was at work. 

Can’t make it tonight.  Haven’t seen Sammy in a while, and we’re gonna hang.  Sorry. 

Castiel stared at it for several long seconds, before deleting the message, and sliding the phone back into his pocket. 

That night he ate supper alone, vegetable stew, in one of his neat little pre-delivered aluminum tins, that were for some reason feeling very depressing these days.  After supper he cleaned up quietly, poured himself a glass of whisky, and drank that quietly as well, standing on his balcony, and looking down at the city. 

He considered reading a book and going to bed early, but all that quiet was getting mildly deafening, so he slipped on his shoes, and his trench coat, and went for a walk. 

He wound up at a bar, two blocks away from his apartment.  It was just slightly upscale of a typical neighbourhood watering hole, sleek and fresh, while still being warm and inviting.  The barstools were comfortable, which was a good thing, because Castiel planned on getting good use out of the one he was currently sitting on, as he swirled his glass of gin around the black glass of the counter top. 

He raised his glass to his lips and tilted it back, finished it off and ordered another one, and silently congratulated himself on not letting Gabriel talk him into getting a Blackberry.  If he had one, he’d probably be working right now, instead of drinking alone in a bar filled with couples, and trying not to think about Dean. 

“Hey there,” a warm, deep voice from Castiel’s left spoke, and Castiel spun around to face the stranger.  “Buy you a drink?”

Castiel blinked, startled, and the man smiled and sat down next to him, held out his hand for Castiel to shake.  Castiel blinked again, and took it dumbly as the man introduced himself.  “Hi,” he said.  “I’m Dan.”  And then Dan signalled the bartended and held up two fingers, pointing at both himself and Castiel, requesting drinks. 

“Castiel,” he answered, finding his voice again and offering Dan not exactly a smile, but a warmer look that he had just been giving him.  Castiel was no stranger to being hit on, by both men and women, but tonight it had been the furthest thing from his mind and it had taken him by surprise. 

Dan was… well, he was incredibly handsome.  He was a little older than Castiel usually went for, probably in his mid forties, with thick, deep black hair that was starting to grey a little at his temples.  Castiel liked it. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he was with an older man, but Castiel usually preferred them a little younger, liked having that advantage of experience on his side.  But if he’d been interested in being with someone tonight, he’d have definitely given Dan a chance.  As it was, he wasn’t. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said, when the bartender put down two more glasses of gin in front of him and Dan.  “I’ve already got a drink.” 

Dan just smiled, undeterred.  “Well then do you mind if I drink mine here?” 

“I can hardly stop you,” said Castiel, “given this is a public venue.  But I should probably let you know now, in the interest of full disclosure, that I’m not planning on having sex with you tonight.” 

Dan just smiled, and sipped his drink.  Neither of them spoke for almost a full minute until Dan broke the silence with a light-hearted teasing, “What about tomorrow night?” 

Castiel smiled at that, because that was usually his line.  He liked Dan.  “I’m seeing someone.” 

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not looking to put a ring on your finger just yet,” Dan joked.  “Look, I’m only in town for a few days, on business, I’m alone, you’re alone.  At least tonight you are.  Figured I’d give it a shot.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

“Flattered enough to drink that drink I bought you?” 

Castiel thought about it for a moment, and then finished his original drink in one swallow, put the glass down on the bar, and wrapped his fingers around the new one.  “I’ll have one drink with you, if you promise to stop hitting on me.” 

Dan’s smile turned sly.  “I will if you want me to.” 

*** 

One drink ended up turning into five, and two hours later Castiel was naked from the waist down, his hips resting at the foot of the bed in his first spare bedroom, his legs wrapped tightly around Dan’s waist, as he was fucked, hard. 

Castiel came twice before he let Dan finish, and when Dan was loose and breathy above him, his arms shaky with the effort of holding himself up and Castiel’s stomach sticky and warm with his own spend, Castiel pushed Dan off, and stood, easily. 

The sex had been adequate, nothing special, and definitely not worth the odd feeling of emptiness that he was experiencing as a result.  He picked up Dan’s t-shirt from where it was lying on the floor next to the rest of his clothes and handed it to him, a not-so-subtle hint that he should get the hell out. 

Dan just placed it right back on the floor and stood, discarding the used condom and stripping out of his pants (that he’d only bothered to push down around his thighs for the sex).  He inclined his head toward the bed, and smiled, sated.  “Shall we get some sleep?” 

“I told you,” Castiel said, frowning.  He’d only signed on for some meaningless sex, a way to spend a couple of hours and forget about Dean for a while.  He wasn’t expecting a slumber party.  “I’m seeing someone.” 

“Well, he’s not here right now, and I’ve had a few.  I need a few hours sleep before I even think about driving.”  Castiel’s eyes narrowed further, and Dan sighed.  “Relax.  I’m not trying to move in or anything.  We just had sex.  I don’t think it’s going to kill you to let me sleep it off for a little while.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” Castiel told him, shaking his head at himself.  He was being ridiculous.  He’d never kicked someone out of his house after sex.  He’d always offered them a comfortable bed, and breakfast the next morning.  Sometimes sent a watch, or tickets to the opera, or a football game.  He was usually the picture of grace and hospitality after one night stands.  “Of course you’re welcome to stay.  There’s a washroom just down the hall, and there are towels, soap, and spare toothbrushes in the cupboard.  Goodnight.” 

“You’re not staying?” Dan asked him, puzzled. 

“This isn’t my room,” Castiel said, before heading for the door, and leaving Dan alone.  “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

*** 

The next morning Castiel woke up to the annoying electronic chirp of his telephone signalling an incoming call. 

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was not yet seven, and he was thankful that he didn’t have to be at the office until the afternoon.  He reached his arm out and lifted the receiver, promptly hanging it back up again without bothering to check who it was. 

Ten seconds later, it rang again. 

He grunted and rolled over, fumbled for the receiver again, and pulled it to his ear. 

“Hello?” he mumbled, and immediately sat up straighter when he heard who was calling. 

“Cas, dude,” Chuck’s tinny voice came down the line.  “You gotta stop bringing guys home when your boyfriend’s coming over!” 

“Dean’s here?” 

“Yeah, and he’s on his way up.  I didn’t know what to tell him, so…” 

“Thank you,” Castiel cut him off, and quickly hung up the phone. 

He stopped only long enough to throw on a robe over his bare chest and black silk pants, and raced down the hall to the guest room, and Dan.  Dan was, of course, still sleeping. 

“Wake up!” Castiel barked, a little louder than necessary, and Dan rolled over, blinked at him. 

“What?” he asked, blearily. 

“Get up,” Castiel repeated.  “You have to leave.  Now.” 

“What,” Dan said sarcastically, but sat up and rubbed at his eyes before reaching for the haphazard pile of clothes on the floor, and starting to get dressed.  “No breakfast?” 

“Now,” Castiel answered, the word coming out low and final, resonating through the warm air between them. 

Dan’s eyes widened as he fastened his pants.  “Yeah, okay,” he said, and slipped on his t-shirt, then his dress shirt, buttoning it up halfway, and leaving it untucked as he left the room, and headed for the door.  “But do you think you could at least call me a cab, so I can get back the bar and pick up my rental car?”

 “Ask the doorman downstairs.  Chuck.  He’ll help you with anything you need,” Castiel said, as he waited impatiently for Dan to put his shoes on.  “Please hurry.”

Dan looked like he wanted to complain about his ‘morning after’ treatment, but he must have caught on to Castiel’s urgency, because he wisely kept his mouth shut.  He accepted his coat, and slid into it, looking entirely too rumpled, but Castiel didn’t really care about that, as long as he was gone before Dean showed up. 

He opened the door and practically shouldered Dan out, and he would have breathed a huge sigh of relief, if it hadn’t already been too late. 

Dean was standing there, in the hallway, about three feet down from Castiel’s door. 

Dan had the good grace to look suitably awkward, and opened his mouth to speak, probably apologise, but closed it again, quickly.  He nodded at Castiel and slid past Dean, making his way to the waiting elevator, and disappearing from Castiel’s life. 

“Well,” Dean said, after a moment of them staring at one another, and held up a brown paper bag from the bagel shop down the road.  “I just came by to bring you some breakfast, since I couldn’t make it last night.  But it looks like you weren’t really missin’ me as much as I thought.” 

“Dean, come in,” Castiel ordered, and opened the door a little wider. 

“No, it’s cool,” Dean said, shaking his head.  “You probably need to go shower the sex-stink off before work.  I wouldn’t want to keep you.” 

“Dean…” 

“Seriously Cas.  You smell like a fucking brothel.” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, grabbed Dean’s arm and yanked him inside, slamming the door shut behind them. 

“We don’t need to have this conversation in the hallway,” he hissed. 

“We don’t need to have this conversation at all,” Dean countered.  “Here I was, thinking a cinnamon bagel and a morning quickie might be a nice surprise.  Little did I know, James fucking Bond out there had the same idea.” 

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment and then turned, and walked into the kitchen.  He didn’t say anything when Dean followed him, just put on a pot of coffee, and poured two glasses of orange juice, before looking back at Dean. 

“You’re upset,” he said, calmly. 

“Ya think?” Dean bit back. 

Castiel considered the situation, considered the fact that he instinctively knew that Dean would be, and yet he didn’t fully understand the reason.  “Why?” 

“Why am I upset about showing up here to find you and some guy with your dicks hanging out?  For the second time?!  Gee, I don’t know, Cas.  Why would that bother me?” 

“You’re the one that said you weren’t after commitment, Dean,” Castiel said, as the coffee maker dripped.  “The one that said this wasn’t a relationship.  That it didn’t mean anything other than a few good times.  And now you’re upset that I seem to be on the same page?” 

He knew he was being unfair.  Knew that Dean felt more than he was willing to admit out loud, and knew that seeing what he’d just seen would hurt him.  But it was hurtful to Castiel that Dean denied his feelings.  It was confusing, and Castiel needed Dean to make a decision about this, one way or the other. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is?” Dean asked.  “Trying to prove your point?  Trying to make me agree to be your boyfriend by sleeping with other people and rubbing it in my face?” 

“No, Dean, that’s not what this is about.  In fact, I’d have preferred it had you not seen anything at all.  What I do in my own time is none of your business.  Just like you don’t tell me about anyone you might happen to see when you’re not with me.” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel raised a hand, silencing him. 

“Before you go confessing, I’d rather you didn’t.  Tell me. I’m happier without the details.”  And he was.  He knew that Dean probably slept with other people, and he hated it.  The very idea tore him up inside.  But if he didn’t see it, if he didn’t hear about it, he could almost pretend that it didn’t happen. 

“Cas, it’s not…” 

“I want you with me, Dean,” Castiel said.  “I want you in a relationship with me.  Voluntarily.  You know that as well as I do.  But we don’t have that.  On your say so.  And last night wasn’t about you at all.  It was about me being alone, and him being available.  Therefore none of your business.” 

That wasn’t really the truth.  Castiel taking Dan home had almost everything to do with Dean. 

“It wasn’t anything like what we have,” Castiel continued.  “Nothing is.  Nothing has been, in quite some time.  But, it happened.  And if it bothers you, then maybe you should think about that.  Think about why it is exactly that you’re not giving me a reason not to sleep with other people.” 

Dean looked into his eyes briefly, blinked and looked down.  Didn’t say anything and the coffee maker pinged, alerting them that it was finished.  Castiel poured them each a mug, and handed one to Dean. 

“This tastes like shit,” Dean said, after taking a careful sip.  “Don’t you have any sugar?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Cas…” 

Castiel almost smiled.  “I want this to be something, Dean.  You and I?  We could be amazing.  You just have to stop being afraid.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, without much heat.  “And maybe if you weren’t paying for the privilege, I’d be a lot more okay with it.” 

“If I hadn’t given you the money, Dean, you wouldn’t even be here.” 

Dean bit his lip. 

“I’m going to have a shower,” Castiel told him.  “You know where the sugar is.” 
Dean didn’t quite smile, but he nodded, and Cas crossed the kitchen, headed to his bedroom to get cleaned up and dressed. 

Dean was gone when he was finished, and he wasn’t surprised by that, or by the fact that Dean had toasted a bagel for him, left it out on the table with a pad of cream cheese, and his juice and coffee. 

He was surprised, when and Castiel smiled for the rest of the dayjust after lunch his phone buzzed, notifying him of a text message from Dean.  

Tonight?

***

Dean spent the entire afternoon at Bobby’s.  He was off, his face buried in the engine of a ’72 Mustang, and he should have been in fucking heaven, but as it was, it was all he could do to keep his concentration up enough that he didn’t send her to an early grave with a careless screwdriver, or an over-enthusiastic crowbar.   

Cas was totally and completely right.  It was Dean’s idea not to get serious, and so if Cas wanted to see other people, well, then that should be awesome.  Right?  Dean should be happy, because if Cas was interested in other people, then the pressure for anything more would be off Dean.  And that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?  To not be on the hook? 

He just wanted to have fun, fuck, and get Sam’s education paid for.  No fuss, no muss. 
He wasn’t in love with Castiel, and he didn’t think he ever would be.  If there had ever been a chance of that happening, it was pretty much dead at this point.  How could he love someone that was paying him to be on stand-by, while he slept with other people? 

His arguments made sense in his head.  They were logical, they flowed.  So why did his heart feel like Cas had reached into his chest and fucking squeezed it, when he’d seen that guy leaving his apartment that morning? 

Yeah, Dean was pretty good at denial.  He’d had a lot of practice, after all.  But he wasn’t an idiot.  He knew Cas was in love with him, even though he hadn’t said it yet, and hopefully never would.  It was stupid, and it sounded stupid, even in his head, but that fact kind of set Dean’s expectations. 

Made him expect some sort of commitment from Cas, even though Dean had told him, time and again, that he didn’t want one.  Cas was supposed to be his.  It hurt like fuck to see him with someone else, and know that he had no right to be upset over it. 

And regardless of what Cas clearly thought, Dean had never been with anyone else.  Not while they were… whatever they were. 

It wasn’t that he had any sort of fucked up sense of loyalty or whatever.  Mostly, he was busy.  He worked long hours, and he tried to spend as much time with Sam as he could, and whatever time was left, he tended to spend with Cas.  So on top of not really finding anyone else he was interested in, he didn’t really have the chance to think about anyone else. 

He sort of thought maybe he should.  Maybe that would make him feel better about feeling so shitty over Cas sleeping around.  But, it wouldn’t.  Dean wasn’t above using strangers for sex, but using strangers to get back at someone for something he shouldn’t even be pissed off about in the first place, was a little below him. 

And yeah, there was the possibility that Cas was right.  About Dean, about him being scared, and not wanting to admit how he really felt.  Fuck, hadn’t Sam told him the same thing?  Because yeah, he did like Cas.  He was a nice guy.  He could be kind of a jerk sometimes, and he was a little on the controlling side, but all in all, Dean thought they were pretty good together.   

They had fun, they got along, they had amazing sex.  He made Dean laugh, made him feel good.  Sure, he was kind of weird, and way too forward, and totally not Dean’s type, but for some reason that didn’t seem to matter. 

And now that Dean was really thinking about it, facing the fact that yeah, he was fucking jealous, watching Cas’ latest lay walk out of the apartment, and letting his overactive imagination fill in all the details of what had gone on between them, he had to admit it.   

Yes, he could probably be happy with Cas.   

Could probably actually date him, maybe even use the ‘b’ word one day.  Or, he could have, anyway, if he’d realised this a couple of months ago.  With his current status as ‘whore’ though, it didn’t seem possible.  There was an imbalance of power between them from the start, and hell, maybe that’s what had drawn Dean to Cas in the first place.  But now the scales were tipped so hard they weren’t even flirting with ‘even’ anymore.  And Dean was going to have a hell of a time trusting anything that grew out of his particular arrangement. 

So no.  No ‘relationship’  no ‘dating’ no anything else that Cas claimed he wanted.   

Dean would keep seeing him, because that was what he’d agreed to do, and he’d try to have as much fun as he could, because he still did really like Cas, so there was no reason not to enjoy the time they did spend together, but that was it.  When Dean didn’t need him anymore, when Dean was able to save up enough money to pay for Sam’s school, or maybe next year if Sam’s student loan came through, it would end.  It was better that way. 

“I ain’t payin’ ya to twiddle yer Goddamn thumbs, boy,” Bobby’s voice broke through his reverie, and Dean stood up sharply, banging his head on the underside of the hood.   

“Fuck,” he cursed, and cringed, as he rubbed his forehead.  Yup, that was gonna swell up nicely. 
Fucker was probably already turning purple.  He hadn’t even realised until Bobby spoke that he’d been just standing there, bent over the engine, and lightly bouncing his socket wrench off the carburetor, in a soft rhythm of ‘ping ping ping’. 

“Sorry Bobby,” he said.  “Just got a lot on my mind.” 

Bobby looked him up and down and Dean squirmed uncomfortably.  Bobby Singer had always been able to tell a little too much just by looking at him, even more than Sam could, and it freaked him out.  He’d always been there, for both Dean and Sam, especially since their father died, and he and Dean had become pretty close.  Too close, maybe. 

“Problems with that boyfriend of yours?” 

Dean huffed out a breath through his nose, and tried not to grate his teeth.  He fucking hated that people thought Cas was his boyfriend, but it was better than the alternative.  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

“Look, Dean…  I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I don’t know why you’re with him,” Bobby said, and Dean looked away.  Fuck.  “And if I could help you out any more than I am, you know I would, kid.  But you also know Sam wouldn’t let you do this, if he knew.” 

“It ain’t like that, Bobby.  Well,” he added, rolling his eyes and managing to look annoyed and embarrassed at the same time, at Bobby’s look.  “Okay, it is.  But… it’s not that bad.  He’s not that bad.  And he’s not forcing me into anything.  I swear.” 

Bobby looked at him again, hard, and Dean twisted the wrench around absently.  He wasn’t sure Bobby completely believed him, but it was the truth, for the most part.  “Right,” Bobby answered, after several painfully silent seconds.  “Well, just see that you keep it that way, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Right.  There’s a Chrysler around side that needs the engine ripped out of her,” Bobby said.  “Make sure you get to it before you take off.”   

“Sure thing, Bobby,” Dean told him, and smiled, wiped his hands off on his pants as he watched Bobby walk away. 

Dean’s hand brushed his cell phone in his pocket and he paused.  Then before he could change his mind, he pulled it out and send a quick message to Cas, before getting back to work. 

***

Chapter 12