posted by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rockstarpeach at 04:28pm on 07/06/2010 under character: castiel, character: dean winchester, character: gabriel, character: sam winchester, fic - spn: all i've got to give
rockstarpeach at 04:28pm on 07/06/2010 under character: castiel, character: dean winchester, character: gabriel, character: sam winchester, fic - spn: all i've got to giveTitle: 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 more weeks went by, and things were good. Dean hadn’t caught Cas with his pants down again, but that might have been because he’d learnt his lesson. He always made sure Cas knew when he was coming over, and he made a point not to ask about any other bed partners.
If he called late at night, and Cas didn’t answer, Dean didn’t ask why not. If there were two empty wine glasses on the table instead of one, when Dean came by in the morning, he didn’t mention it.
He figured if Cas needed to sleep around to feel better about things, if he needed the distraction so he wasn’t feeling so rejected by Dean, well, Dean could let him have that, and keep his mouth shut about it. He wasn’t planning on proposing any time soon, and it was the least he could do.
He waited until Sammy was pulling an all-nighter, studying late on campus and crashing in one of the spare dorm rooms so he could stay late at the library, and not have to worry about making the last bus home, and he called Cas.
“Yes?” Cas answered his work phone, and Dean heard some crackling and some static, and he could easily tell that he was on speaker. The sound was extra tinny, and he pictured Cas at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, and the image was… weird. Fucking hot, but weird. Cas just did not seem the office type.
“What are you doing tonight?” Dean asked, letting his smile sound through his voice.
“Hello Dean,” Cas answered, and Dean could hear him smile back. “I was hoping I’d be seeing you, but I promised Gabriel I’d be his… wing man, for a late supper date that he’s made.”
“Wing man?” Dean asked, and tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. “That doesn’t really sound like your thing, Cas.”
“It isn’t,” Cas quickly agreed. “He met an unfortunate young woman last night, who made the mistake of agreeing to go out with him, as long as he brought someone along for her friend. From out of town.”
“Wait,” Dean said, frowning. “So you’re cancelling on me tonight, because you have a date? With a girl?”
“Dean…”
“I thought…” Dean said, and cringed, knowing he sounded like an idiot. “I thought you were gay.”
Which was just about the stupidest thing he could have said to a guy, after they’d been fucking for months. But Dean wasn’t gay, so really, there was no reason for him to assume that Cas was. He still had, though.
“And also,” Dean went on, not giving Cas a chance to answer. “Date?”
“Oh, he’s totally gay!” Dean heard Gabriel shout, from somewhere far off. Probably across the room, or something. He wondered if Gabriel had just walked in, or if he’d been there for the entire conversation. “Unless he’s had enough to drink!”
“Thank you Gabriel,” Castiel said. “Always helpful. Was there something you wanted?”
“Just reminding you we’ve got to be outta here by eight thirty.” Gabriel’s voice sounded even more annoying through the phone than it did in person.
“Noted,” Castiel said, clipped and tight. “Please leave.”
A few seconds passed, and Dean heard some mumbling, shuffling, and finally a door closing, which he assumed meant Cas was alone again.
“Sorry about that,” Cas said, and Dean heard a click. Probably Cas picking up the phone, so he wasn’t on speaker anymore.
“Hey, no problem,” Dean told him. “I should let you go though. You know. So you can finish up your work and get ready for your date.” He spit the word ‘date’ out like it tasted bad in his mouth, and he hated the way it sounded. The way it made him sound petty and jealous.
“It’s not like that,” Cas said, his voice irritatingly placating. “I’m doing a favour for my idiot brother, and I’m planning on excusing myself as soon as is socially acceptable. I’ve already instructed Chuck to send you up, and I was going to ask you wait for me, if you got home before I did. I won’t be long.”
“Cas, you can fuck whoever you want. I can’t stop you. But if you think I’m gonna sit around waiting for you to get home to start round two, you’re a bigger douche than I thought.”
“Dean, please. It’s nothing. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you.”
Dean sighed, and rubbed his hand over his mouth. Whatever. It wouldn’t be like it was the first time Cas had fucked around, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Look. Sam’s out all night tonight, so if you still feel like it later, after you’re done doing whatever you’re doing, you can stop by.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” Castiel said, and it sounded so solemn, like a promise he’d never break, and Dean almost believed that he wasn’t going to fuck his date on the bench of his stretch limo before he came over.
“Yeah Cas. See you tonight.”
***
Cas surprised Dean, by showing up just a little after ten. He didn’t even smell remotely of perfume, or vanilla or anything else girly, like Dean had been expecting.
And he made a point, several in fact, of promising Dean over and over, that nothing had happened, while he rocked back and forth on his hands and knees on Dean’s bed, and Dean fucked him, slow and deep.
He woke up naked the next morning, lying half on top of Cas, his semi hard dick getting very interested in finding its way inside the crack of Cas’ ass. He smiled, and groaned a happy, morning groan, and thrust his hips slightly, kissing Cas on the back of the neck when he pushed back against him.
Dean stretched, and reached into the bedside table for a condom, and Cas used the opportunity to roll over, spread his legs, and start to finger himself open. He was still slick from last night, and two fingers slid easily inside, as he hissed in pleasure, and his eyelashes fluttered shut.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered, and his fingers shook trying to open the foil package. “Cas, that’s so Goddamn hot. Gotta…” He brought the condom up to his mouth to tear the foil with his teeth, and then froze.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice called from somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door. “Have you seen my history paper?”
“Fuck,” Dean cursed, only this time it wasn’t nearly as pleasant. “Shit. Stay here, okay? And be quiet,” he said to Cas, and didn’t wait for a response, just got out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts. He left his room as quickly as he could, because the last thing he wanted right at that particular moment was Sam coming in to find him. He didn’t even want Sam and Cas to meet each other at all, but especially not while they were naked and about to fuck.
He shut the door tightly behind him, and wandered into the living room, scratching his belly with one hand, and trying to flatten his sleep-mussed hair with the other.
“Have I seen your what?” Dean asked. “And dude, what are you even doing here? You stayed on campus last night, right? I thought you were just going to straight to class.”
“Wow, nice to see you too, Dean,” Sam said, pulling a face. “My history paper. I forgot it, so Brady gave me a lift home to pick it up. And he’s waiting outside, so I gotta hurry. Did you do something with it?”
“Dude, what the fuck would I do with your history paper?”
“I don’t know, Dean, but it was right here by the printer yesterday when I left for school.”
“Well then why didn’t you take it with you?”
“Dean!”
“I don’t know what the hell happened to your paper, Sam! Just chill out, man.”
“Well can you at least help me look? And then you can get back to jerking off in your room.”
Dean’s face warmed, and he knew he was blushing as he looked down at the obvious erection tenting the front of his shorts. “Bitch,” he muttered, and less than a minute later he found Sam’s paper, slid down the crack between the desk and the wall, where it had probably fallen during Sam’s frantic search.
Three seconds after that Sam was rushing out the door, shouting at Dean that he’d stop by Jesse’s for supper after his last class. It was wing night, and Dean always managed to get Sam free food.
The door closed behind Sam and Dean locked it, paused, and slid the chain lock into place as well. The last thing he needed was Sam coming back in ten minutes and catching him and Cas going at it.
Turned out, he hadn’t really had to worry about that.
Cas was dressed when Dean opened his bedroom door, hair combed back into place, and he was just buttoning up his cuffs. He looked perfect, professional and ready for the day, and not at all like someone who’d just been wantonly fucking themselves on their own fingers in preparation for Dean’s cock not two minutes ago.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, incredulously, and glanced down at his cock. It was still hard. This sucked.
“Since you’re so determined to hide me, I figured I might as well make it easy on you, by making sure I don’t outstay my welcome. Perhaps it’s best if we only meet at my place from now on.”
“Shit,” Dean mumbled, and bit his lower lip. Fuck, he was an asshole. He knew that. Not setting up an elaborate introduction between Cas and Sam was one thing, but hiding Cas away in the bedroom like a dirty little secret just to avoid the two of them meeting, especially at this point, was ridiculous.
And, judging by the tone of Cas’ voice, the slight waver, and the way he wasn’t completely meeting Dean’s eyes, hurtful. “You’re right, I’m a dick. I just… I don’t want you to meet him yet, okay?”
Cas sighed, and his hands fell limply to his sides. Dean couldn’t decide if Cas was upset, or if he just thought Dean was being a major pain in the ass. “Why not?”
“I want to keep this part of my life separate.”
“Keep your brother and your lover separate? That seems foolish, especially given that Sam thinks we’re actually an item.”
“Cas…”
“I think you’re afraid,” Cas said, stepping closer, his voice getting lower. “I think you’re scared that what we have is real.” He stepped closer again, right into Dean’s personal bubble, tilted his chin up just slightly to look into Dean’s eyes, and Dean swallowed thickly and looked down.
“And you think that if you avoid seeing me outside of the bedroom, avoid introducing me to your brother, that you can go on pretending indefinitely.”
“That’s not…” he started. What? True? No, it probably was true, but Dean wasn’t feeling particularly self-searching today, and he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it.
“I want to meet him,” Cas said, and just like that his voice was back to normal, and he pulled out of Dean’s space, putting a socially acceptable two feet between them.
“Why?” Dean snapped, suddenly, irrationally angry. Probably because Cas had a point, and he knew it, and Dean hated being that vulnerable. “So you can fuck him, too?” That was unfair, and Dean did feel bad about saying it. Not bad enough to take it back, though.
Castiel sighed and turned away, shook his head in exasperation. “I’m not interested in your brother, Dean. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”
“Well you could have fooled me, considering how many of those people you aren’t interested in that you’ve fucked lately.”
“If it bothers you, Dean,” Cas said, half turning back around and looking at Dean, his voice and eyes softer, almost pleading. “All you have to do is ask me to stop.”
Dean clenched his teeth together and jerked his chin. He wasn’t sure who he was more pissed off with at this point, himself or Cas. “You know I can’t do that.”
Cas just nodded. “You mean you won’t.”
“I can’t.” Because Cas was right. He was terrified. And more than that, things were so far beyond fucked up between them at this point, that he couldn’t actually be sure of anything, least of all his feelings.
He wanted to go back. To when they’d first met, and just had lots of uncomplicated, no-strings-attached, mind-blowing sex. To before Cas had gone and decided to actually win him over. Before he’d ever taken that fucking money, and before he’d maybe started to actually want Cas as more than just a fuck buddy.
But he couldn’t. This was their reality. Money in exchange for services rendered, and it sucked, but it was their life. At least for the next four years.
“I can’t give you what you want here, Cas. I’m sorry.”
Cas just stared at him, unblinking, for several long seconds, and then nodded once, turned on his heel, and left Dean alone, and still fucking hard, in his bedroom.
He groaned in frustration when he heard the front door open and close, and fell into his bed. Jerked off furiously to thoughts of last month’s ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ centerfold, and tried not to see Cas’ disappointed expression over and over in his mind, when he showered, and went to work.
***
When Gabriel called Castiel on Thursday night, and told him to be ready in fifteen minutes, because they were heading out to one of the college pubs to troll for hot co-eds, Castiel didn’t even protest.
He’d been short with his brother the past few days, with everyone in fact. He’d been overly harsh, avoided all conversation that wasn’t strictly necessary, and had mostly tried to keep to himself.
And he was sick of it. Yes, Dean had hurt him. But he hadn’t told Castiel anything that he didn’t already know. And he knew Dean wasn’t going anywhere. Couldn’t really, not if he wanted to keep Sam in school, so Castiel would just have to come to terms with having only a part of Dean. It would have to be enough, and if it wasn’t, well, sex with strangers helped, if only to see the brief flash of hurt in Dean’s eyes as a result.
Castiel picked Gabriel up and drove them to the bar in his Mercedes, parked it carefully in the far corner of the parking lot, and they went inside.
It was crowded and noisy, full of drunk people that weren’t legally old enough to drink, and it wasn’t the type of place Castiel would ever have come if it had been up to him. Of course, it took Gabriel less than ten minutes before he had a busty nineteen year old on his arm, and Castiel was sitting quietly by himself in a dark corner, sipping his gin morosely.
“Hey man,” an exuberant, and slightly slurred, voice greeted him, and the person attached to it bumped into the table a little as he pulled up a chair across from Castiel and sat down. “You okay? You look kinda down, and I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a party.”
Castiel sighed, and held his drink tight, took a breath and lifted his head to tell the drunk boy that he was fine and would appreciate being left alone. He paused mid-breath, and his eyes went wide, his tongue darting out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.
Sam Winchester.
He’d studied his picture a great deal on the two occasions that he’d been to see Dean, and he would recognise him anywhere.
A thousand different things ran through Castiel’s mind at that point. Things he could do, or say. Shake his hand and say ‘Hi, I’m Castiel, and I’m fucking your brother’. Smile and tell him, ‘I’m your brother’s boyfriend, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’ Purposely spill his drink all over himself so he had an excuse to leave, before he had to say anything at all.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted to meet the young man, had wanted Dean to be a part of it, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that the only way they’d ever actually meet would be to just randomly bump into each other in a city of sixty thousand people.
What he ended up doing, was playing dumb.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, instead of introducing himself. He wasn’t planning on telling Sam who he was, but he found that he wanted to take advantage of what might be his only chance to spend time with this person, who was obviously so very important to Dean. They could talk for a while, have a drink, and Castiel would leave, feeling a little bit closer to the guy he was sleeping with.
That was the plan.
One hour and four drinks later – well, four drinks for Sam anyway, while Castiel just nursed his original one, because he was driving – and Sam was getting decidedly handsy.
Castiel hadn’t said much, hadn’t done much, other than buy Sam drink after drink and encourage him to open up, to talk, share stories. He hadn’t encouraged Sam’s flirting in any way, had gone to extra lengths to be his usual outwardly stoic self, but apparently Dean had been right when he’d told Castiel about Sam’s eighteenth birthday party, and a drunk Sam was a frisky Sam.
It wasn’t until Sam had moved his chair around so that he was sitting right next to Castiel, hand sliding up Castiel’s inner thigh in what he probably assumed was a discreet manner, that Castiel said something.
“I’ve what?!” Castiel asked, eyes going wide in shock, and pulling back out of Sam’s reach. He most certainly had not. Perhaps he’d been staring a little intently, but that was only because Sam’s face tended to light up when he told a story about Dean that was particularly embarrassing, or showed him in an especially flattering light.
He’d maybe leaned a little close to him over the table a few times, but that was because it was loud in the bar, and he hadn’t wanted to miss hearing about the time a ten year old Sam walked in on Dean losing his virginity to Cindy Doohan from his math class, or the time a five year old Sam had fallen out of the tree fort and broken his arm, and Dean had held his hand all the way to the hospital, and fed him chicken soup and ice cream in bed for a week after.
Sam was a substitute for what he really wanted, for Dean being here with him, and telling him all these stories that he would never share, because Dean was trying to convince the both of them that he was a heartless asshole. And Castiel hated Dean. He was in love with Dean, there was no getting around that, and he hated him for it.
Sam’s smile just spread, and he gave the most adorable little shrug, sly and coy, and acting like he couldn’t care one way or the other if Castiel fucked him or not. “I gotta tell ya, man. I don’t usually do this.”
“This?”
“Hook up with strangers like this. Shit, man, I don’t even know your name. I’m…”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me.” He thought about it for split second. About how much he wanted Dean to love him back, and the fact that he probably never would. About Sam, and how he’d shared more of Dean with him in the past hour than Dean had in more than three months. About how Castiel had fallen even further in love with Dean since Sam first sat down across from him.
About how Sam, in his own right, was an attractive man. Sweet and open with a brilliant smile and a stunning physique. About how much he wanted to hurt Dean for getting under his skin, turning him into a snivelling lapdog, begging for scraps, and being constantly denied.
About how he knew Dean thought he fucked a lot more people than he really did, and he wanted so badly to tell him that wasn’t the case. About how Dean knew about each and every person Castiel had been with since he’d met Dean, and about how he felt terrible about all three of them. About how the extra dishes on the counter and the unexplained pair of underwear in the middle of the living room floor belonged to Gabriel, and about how Castiel fell asleep alone each and every night that Dean wasn’t with him.
About just how good Sam would look, naked, and braced on his knees in the backseat of Castiel’s Mercedes, hands on the back dash with his chest pressed flush against the creamy leather of the seats while Castiel fucked into him slowly.
And he thought about how very much he suddenly wanted to make that happen.
“I have a car outside,” he said, nearly choking on the words and trying to ignore just how wrong this felt. He stood, and threw two twenties down onto their table. “Let’s go.”
Sam looked up at him then and blinked, looking much younger, more innocent than he had a moment ago.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered, and his voice sounded rough. He shook his head and offered Castiel a smile, standing with him. “I just… I meant what I said. I don’t do this. I’ve never done this.”
“We don’t have to,” Castiel said, immediately. “The last thing I want is for you to regret this.”
Because then Dean would somehow find out that Castiel had taken advantage of his little brother, and Dean would, quite literally, kill him.
“No, I want to,” Sam said and put a hand on Castiel’s hip, pulling him closer and ducking his head down for a kiss, his hands worming up Castiel’s back. Shit, he was tall. Castiel pushed him away, with a gentle hand on his chest.
“Not until we get outside,” he told him lowly. “And no kissing.”
Sam’s eyes widened briefly when he realised that he wasn’t going to be running the show this time, but then he smiled again, winked, and let Castiel lead him out of the bar, and across the parking lot.
***
“Dude, you are way too fucking chipper for this early in the morning,” Dean told him, trying to scowl, but so tired that he failed miserably. He succeeding in raising one questioning eyebrow, however, and took a large sip of the coffee that Sam had made.
Dean had gotten up five minutes ago, and Sam had been finishing up a breakfast of scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon, smiling and fucking humming to himself while he plated up the food.
“What’s your problem?”
“I got laid last night,” Sam told him, almost bouncing in his seat as he stuffed almost an entire piece of toast into his mouth.
“So?” Dean snorted grumpily. Fuck, he needed stronger coffee than this. He’d worked until four in the morning, and then he’d played darts with Andy until about six. “I’d say congratulations, but it’s not like it’s your first time. You’ve been getting laid pretty steadily since you hit puberty.”
“Not since Jake,” Sam said, and his face fell just a little, and Dean wanted to kick himself for quasi bringing it up.
“Fuck, Sammy…”
“No, it’s okay, Dean,” Sam said, and he looked like he actually meant it. “It’s just been months, and last night was… well it was kind of liberating, you know? No promises, no commitment, just… sex. Really fucking amazing sex.”
Dean’s face turned sour at Sam’s dreamy smile, and he tried not to spit his breakfast back up. “Dude, I really don’t need the details,” he said. “Anyway, since when are you the type to randomly hook up, huh Sammy? Last I checked you were Mister Commitment. Not exactly into one night stands. Besides, you came home last night. Alone.”
“I’m not into one night stands, Dean. Not usually. But there was just something about him, and I was having such a great time, and I figured why the hell not, you know?”
“Okay, I think I’m starting to rub off on you. I’d be proud, but on you it just seems sleazy. I make that shit work.” He cocked a grin, and chewed lewd and open-mouthed around a bite of pancake.
“Trust me Dean,” Sam said, screwing up his nose. “You don’t. Besides, I’m in college. This is my chance to let loose and act like a moron every once in a while. If I want to have sex with a hot older guy, and I’m not hurting anyone, then why the hell not?”
“Hey, speaking of ‘college experiences’,” Dean said, pointing his fork at Sam’s chest. “Whatever happened to that girl you met? The one that wants your junk.”
“Jess?”
“Yeah, Jess,” he grinned. “I mean, shouldn’t you be off with her, pretending to be hetero or something?”
“Fuck off,” Sam said, giving him the face to match. “I don’t know, Dean. I like her. I mean, I…” He trailed off and got a weird sort of a smile on his face, and Dean knew that meant that Sam really liked her. It was cute. “We haven’t even been on a date yet. I want to get to know her first. Go slow, and really make sure it goes right. If,” he added, and he sounded awkward and shy, and fuck, once that got out, and Sam learned how to harness it, he was going to be fighting girls off with a fucking stick. “If it goes at all. I’m still not sure, but… I want it to be right, if it happens.”
“Awwww,” Dean teased, and leaned across the table to push one finger against Sam’s nose. “Sammy’s first girlfriend. It’s adorable!”
“I hate you, so much,” Sam said, completely dejected and completely without venom, and Dean smirked.
“Besides, I think she’s kind of been dating some other guy, from our Economics class, so I don’t want to rush it, ask her out too soon, and screw things up. And until I’m sure she’s free, and interested…”
“You’ll just whore it up with strangers?”
“Ha ha.”
“No, seriously, Sam,” Dean said, and he didn’t have a hard time trying to sound interested. He actually was. “Your first one night stand. That’s exciting. Tell me about him.”
“Not much to tell, really,” Sam shrugged. “He was hot. Came off kind of intense, like when he looked at me was really looking at me, like normal human eye contact was a concept he wasn’t familiar with. And he had the most amazing eyes. Blue. Like, fucking blue. And I’m pretty sure he went more than a minute without blinking.
“It was kinda weird, but in a good way, you know? He was loaded, too, I’m pretty sure. Was dressed in friggin’ Armani, and he drove a Mercedes!”
“What, uh…” Dean started to ask, stopped to swallow a lump in his throat as he got a sinking feeling in his gut. It couldn’t fucking be. It just couldn’t. “What was his name?”
“We never actually exchanged names,” Sam admitted, and he looked down, like he regretted that fact. Fucking figured. Sam was so not the random sex type. “I wanted to, but he told me he didn’t want to.”
Dean nodded, and tried not to choke, tried to wrap his head around everything.
“Anyway, he was a little more toppy than my usual tastes. Made me hold still and be quiet and not finish until he said so. But fuck, it was hot. Hotter than I thought that shit would be.”
“That’s uh…” Dean said, and fought the dryness in his mouth. He was going to fucking kill Cas.
Nobody fucking fucked with his little brother like that, used him as a pawn in whatever fucked up game Cas was playing. It was one thing to treat Dean like shit, but another fucking thing entirely to use his brother like a cheap blow-up doll, only paying him as much attention as it would take to hurt Dean.
Because he was pretty sure that was exactly what Cas had done.
And Dean was about ready to fucking pop here. The fact that his heart was also kind of breaking almost didn’t register. At least, not yet.
“Good for you, Sammy.”
He finished the rest his breakfast in silence, and ignored the suspiciously concerned way Sam was looking at him, got up before Sam was done eating, and went back to sleep.
***
Dean had been quiet for the past few days, grunting his unenthusiastic hellos to Bobby, and offering quiet, half-assed smiles to his customers at Jesse’s. He’d barely said two words to Sam, waiting until he was gone to school, or work, in the mornings before coming out of his room, and sneaking in quietly at night, so he didn’t wake Sam up when he came home.
He wished he could have said that he was avoiding Cas as well, but the fucker hadn’t even called all weekend, and Dean was trying his damnedest to not care.
He barely grunted when Sam came home Monday evening, walked straight past Dean without a word, and ten seconds later came out of the kitchen carrying two beers. He gave one to Dean and sat down on the couch next to him, grabbed the remote control from his hand, and switched the channel to Discovery.
Dean didn’t even mind not being able to watch Nascar anymore, and his eyes almost watered with the tight pull in his chest, the want to just be able to hang out with his brother, without the crippling suspicion that his boyfriend’s dick had been up Sam’s ass a few days ago.
“Dean, man,” Sam started, and Dean cringed. That was the tone of a brother who wanted to ‘talk’. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Sam,” Dean said, and shrugged but the words came out entirely unconvincing.
“Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me for days. And I haven’t driven your car, or worn your last pair of clean underwear, or eaten your last fucking Rolo.”
“Dude, I don’t even like Rolos.”
“Dean!” Sam almost shouted, kicking his foot up on the coffee table, frustrated. “I’m being serious here. I know something’s bothering you, and I know it has something to do with me. So just tell me what the fuck it is, so I can kiss it and make it better, and we can move on.”
Dean took a long draw from his bottle of beer and kicked his own foot up on the table. Put it right next to Sam’s, and let it fall to the side, let it knock against Sam’s.
“It’s nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, nudged Sam’s foot again, and elbowed him playfully in the side. “Nothing that’s your fault. I promise.”
“Then why...?” Sam said, and was promptly and thankfully cut off by the doorbell ringing.
Dean shot Sam a puzzled look, and Sam shrugged, so Dean stood up and made his way to the door, and opened it.
“Dean-o!” Jo greeted, and grabbed his upper arm tightly, smiled, and kissed him on the cheek and brushed past him with a large brown paper bag in hand.
“Dean,” Ash said, curtly, nodding and sniffling, offered Dean a friendly punch to the stomach, and held up another bag, as he made his way inside.
“Uh… Hey,” Dean said, confused. “What are you guys doin’ here?”
“Nice to see you too, Dean,” Jo smiled, and put her paper bag down on the coffee table, opening it up, and started to take things out.
“No, it’s… it’s just a surprise.”
“Well, we were invited,” Ash drawled. “So it shouldn’t be.”
“Sam?”
“He made us bring food,” Ash confirmed, as Jo placed burgers and fries and salads down on the table. “But we were told there would be some PBR, and a monster movie marathon, so we figured it was worth it.”
Dean smiled and slapped Ash on the arm, looked slightly uncomfortable when Ash looked at him funny for it, and backed away, slowly.
“Well, come on in. The more the merrier.”
An hour into The Fly Dean’s cell phone rang, Cas flashing on the display, and Dean quietly shut it off, slipped it back into his pocket, and spent the rest of the evening eating and drinking and laughing when they found out that Ash’s fear of anything with more than four legs was even more hilarious in 72 inches of high-def surround sound.
He loved his fucking friends, and he loved his brother for knowing just what he needed to take his mind off all the bullshit.
***
Chapter 13
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 more weeks went by, and things were good. Dean hadn’t caught Cas with his pants down again, but that might have been because he’d learnt his lesson. He always made sure Cas knew when he was coming over, and he made a point not to ask about any other bed partners.
If he called late at night, and Cas didn’t answer, Dean didn’t ask why not. If there were two empty wine glasses on the table instead of one, when Dean came by in the morning, he didn’t mention it.
He figured if Cas needed to sleep around to feel better about things, if he needed the distraction so he wasn’t feeling so rejected by Dean, well, Dean could let him have that, and keep his mouth shut about it. He wasn’t planning on proposing any time soon, and it was the least he could do.
He waited until Sammy was pulling an all-nighter, studying late on campus and crashing in one of the spare dorm rooms so he could stay late at the library, and not have to worry about making the last bus home, and he called Cas.
“Yes?” Cas answered his work phone, and Dean heard some crackling and some static, and he could easily tell that he was on speaker. The sound was extra tinny, and he pictured Cas at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, and the image was… weird. Fucking hot, but weird. Cas just did not seem the office type.
“What are you doing tonight?” Dean asked, letting his smile sound through his voice.
“Hello Dean,” Cas answered, and Dean could hear him smile back. “I was hoping I’d be seeing you, but I promised Gabriel I’d be his… wing man, for a late supper date that he’s made.”
“Wing man?” Dean asked, and tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. “That doesn’t really sound like your thing, Cas.”
“It isn’t,” Cas quickly agreed. “He met an unfortunate young woman last night, who made the mistake of agreeing to go out with him, as long as he brought someone along for her friend. From out of town.”
“Wait,” Dean said, frowning. “So you’re cancelling on me tonight, because you have a date? With a girl?”
“Dean…”
“I thought…” Dean said, and cringed, knowing he sounded like an idiot. “I thought you were gay.”
Which was just about the stupidest thing he could have said to a guy, after they’d been fucking for months. But Dean wasn’t gay, so really, there was no reason for him to assume that Cas was. He still had, though.
“And also,” Dean went on, not giving Cas a chance to answer. “Date?”
“Oh, he’s totally gay!” Dean heard Gabriel shout, from somewhere far off. Probably across the room, or something. He wondered if Gabriel had just walked in, or if he’d been there for the entire conversation. “Unless he’s had enough to drink!”
“Thank you Gabriel,” Castiel said. “Always helpful. Was there something you wanted?”
“Just reminding you we’ve got to be outta here by eight thirty.” Gabriel’s voice sounded even more annoying through the phone than it did in person.
“Noted,” Castiel said, clipped and tight. “Please leave.”
A few seconds passed, and Dean heard some mumbling, shuffling, and finally a door closing, which he assumed meant Cas was alone again.
“Sorry about that,” Cas said, and Dean heard a click. Probably Cas picking up the phone, so he wasn’t on speaker anymore.
“Hey, no problem,” Dean told him. “I should let you go though. You know. So you can finish up your work and get ready for your date.” He spit the word ‘date’ out like it tasted bad in his mouth, and he hated the way it sounded. The way it made him sound petty and jealous.
“It’s not like that,” Cas said, his voice irritatingly placating. “I’m doing a favour for my idiot brother, and I’m planning on excusing myself as soon as is socially acceptable. I’ve already instructed Chuck to send you up, and I was going to ask you wait for me, if you got home before I did. I won’t be long.”
“Cas, you can fuck whoever you want. I can’t stop you. But if you think I’m gonna sit around waiting for you to get home to start round two, you’re a bigger douche than I thought.”
“Dean, please. It’s nothing. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you.”
Dean sighed, and rubbed his hand over his mouth. Whatever. It wouldn’t be like it was the first time Cas had fucked around, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Look. Sam’s out all night tonight, so if you still feel like it later, after you’re done doing whatever you’re doing, you can stop by.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” Castiel said, and it sounded so solemn, like a promise he’d never break, and Dean almost believed that he wasn’t going to fuck his date on the bench of his stretch limo before he came over.
“Yeah Cas. See you tonight.”
***
Cas surprised Dean, by showing up just a little after ten. He didn’t even smell remotely of perfume, or vanilla or anything else girly, like Dean had been expecting.
And he made a point, several in fact, of promising Dean over and over, that nothing had happened, while he rocked back and forth on his hands and knees on Dean’s bed, and Dean fucked him, slow and deep.
He woke up naked the next morning, lying half on top of Cas, his semi hard dick getting very interested in finding its way inside the crack of Cas’ ass. He smiled, and groaned a happy, morning groan, and thrust his hips slightly, kissing Cas on the back of the neck when he pushed back against him.
Dean stretched, and reached into the bedside table for a condom, and Cas used the opportunity to roll over, spread his legs, and start to finger himself open. He was still slick from last night, and two fingers slid easily inside, as he hissed in pleasure, and his eyelashes fluttered shut.
“Fuck,” Dean whispered, and his fingers shook trying to open the foil package. “Cas, that’s so Goddamn hot. Gotta…” He brought the condom up to his mouth to tear the foil with his teeth, and then froze.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice called from somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door. “Have you seen my history paper?”
“Fuck,” Dean cursed, only this time it wasn’t nearly as pleasant. “Shit. Stay here, okay? And be quiet,” he said to Cas, and didn’t wait for a response, just got out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts. He left his room as quickly as he could, because the last thing he wanted right at that particular moment was Sam coming in to find him. He didn’t even want Sam and Cas to meet each other at all, but especially not while they were naked and about to fuck.
He shut the door tightly behind him, and wandered into the living room, scratching his belly with one hand, and trying to flatten his sleep-mussed hair with the other.
“Have I seen your what?” Dean asked. “And dude, what are you even doing here? You stayed on campus last night, right? I thought you were just going to straight to class.”
“Wow, nice to see you too, Dean,” Sam said, pulling a face. “My history paper. I forgot it, so Brady gave me a lift home to pick it up. And he’s waiting outside, so I gotta hurry. Did you do something with it?”
“Dude, what the fuck would I do with your history paper?”
“I don’t know, Dean, but it was right here by the printer yesterday when I left for school.”
“Well then why didn’t you take it with you?”
“Dean!”
“I don’t know what the hell happened to your paper, Sam! Just chill out, man.”
“Well can you at least help me look? And then you can get back to jerking off in your room.”
Dean’s face warmed, and he knew he was blushing as he looked down at the obvious erection tenting the front of his shorts. “Bitch,” he muttered, and less than a minute later he found Sam’s paper, slid down the crack between the desk and the wall, where it had probably fallen during Sam’s frantic search.
Three seconds after that Sam was rushing out the door, shouting at Dean that he’d stop by Jesse’s for supper after his last class. It was wing night, and Dean always managed to get Sam free food.
The door closed behind Sam and Dean locked it, paused, and slid the chain lock into place as well. The last thing he needed was Sam coming back in ten minutes and catching him and Cas going at it.
Turned out, he hadn’t really had to worry about that.
Cas was dressed when Dean opened his bedroom door, hair combed back into place, and he was just buttoning up his cuffs. He looked perfect, professional and ready for the day, and not at all like someone who’d just been wantonly fucking themselves on their own fingers in preparation for Dean’s cock not two minutes ago.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, incredulously, and glanced down at his cock. It was still hard. This sucked.
“Since you’re so determined to hide me, I figured I might as well make it easy on you, by making sure I don’t outstay my welcome. Perhaps it’s best if we only meet at my place from now on.”
“Shit,” Dean mumbled, and bit his lower lip. Fuck, he was an asshole. He knew that. Not setting up an elaborate introduction between Cas and Sam was one thing, but hiding Cas away in the bedroom like a dirty little secret just to avoid the two of them meeting, especially at this point, was ridiculous.
And, judging by the tone of Cas’ voice, the slight waver, and the way he wasn’t completely meeting Dean’s eyes, hurtful. “You’re right, I’m a dick. I just… I don’t want you to meet him yet, okay?”
Cas sighed, and his hands fell limply to his sides. Dean couldn’t decide if Cas was upset, or if he just thought Dean was being a major pain in the ass. “Why not?”
“I want to keep this part of my life separate.”
“Keep your brother and your lover separate? That seems foolish, especially given that Sam thinks we’re actually an item.”
“Cas…”
“I think you’re afraid,” Cas said, stepping closer, his voice getting lower. “I think you’re scared that what we have is real.” He stepped closer again, right into Dean’s personal bubble, tilted his chin up just slightly to look into Dean’s eyes, and Dean swallowed thickly and looked down.
“And you think that if you avoid seeing me outside of the bedroom, avoid introducing me to your brother, that you can go on pretending indefinitely.”
“That’s not…” he started. What? True? No, it probably was true, but Dean wasn’t feeling particularly self-searching today, and he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it.
“I want to meet him,” Cas said, and just like that his voice was back to normal, and he pulled out of Dean’s space, putting a socially acceptable two feet between them.
“Why?” Dean snapped, suddenly, irrationally angry. Probably because Cas had a point, and he knew it, and Dean hated being that vulnerable. “So you can fuck him, too?” That was unfair, and Dean did feel bad about saying it. Not bad enough to take it back, though.
Castiel sighed and turned away, shook his head in exasperation. “I’m not interested in your brother, Dean. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”
“Well you could have fooled me, considering how many of those people you aren’t interested in that you’ve fucked lately.”
“If it bothers you, Dean,” Cas said, half turning back around and looking at Dean, his voice and eyes softer, almost pleading. “All you have to do is ask me to stop.”
Dean clenched his teeth together and jerked his chin. He wasn’t sure who he was more pissed off with at this point, himself or Cas. “You know I can’t do that.”
Cas just nodded. “You mean you won’t.”
“I can’t.” Because Cas was right. He was terrified. And more than that, things were so far beyond fucked up between them at this point, that he couldn’t actually be sure of anything, least of all his feelings.
He wanted to go back. To when they’d first met, and just had lots of uncomplicated, no-strings-attached, mind-blowing sex. To before Cas had gone and decided to actually win him over. Before he’d ever taken that fucking money, and before he’d maybe started to actually want Cas as more than just a fuck buddy.
But he couldn’t. This was their reality. Money in exchange for services rendered, and it sucked, but it was their life. At least for the next four years.
“I can’t give you what you want here, Cas. I’m sorry.”
Cas just stared at him, unblinking, for several long seconds, and then nodded once, turned on his heel, and left Dean alone, and still fucking hard, in his bedroom.
He groaned in frustration when he heard the front door open and close, and fell into his bed. Jerked off furiously to thoughts of last month’s ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ centerfold, and tried not to see Cas’ disappointed expression over and over in his mind, when he showered, and went to work.
***
When Gabriel called Castiel on Thursday night, and told him to be ready in fifteen minutes, because they were heading out to one of the college pubs to troll for hot co-eds, Castiel didn’t even protest.
He’d been short with his brother the past few days, with everyone in fact. He’d been overly harsh, avoided all conversation that wasn’t strictly necessary, and had mostly tried to keep to himself.
And he was sick of it. Yes, Dean had hurt him. But he hadn’t told Castiel anything that he didn’t already know. And he knew Dean wasn’t going anywhere. Couldn’t really, not if he wanted to keep Sam in school, so Castiel would just have to come to terms with having only a part of Dean. It would have to be enough, and if it wasn’t, well, sex with strangers helped, if only to see the brief flash of hurt in Dean’s eyes as a result.
Castiel picked Gabriel up and drove them to the bar in his Mercedes, parked it carefully in the far corner of the parking lot, and they went inside.
It was crowded and noisy, full of drunk people that weren’t legally old enough to drink, and it wasn’t the type of place Castiel would ever have come if it had been up to him. Of course, it took Gabriel less than ten minutes before he had a busty nineteen year old on his arm, and Castiel was sitting quietly by himself in a dark corner, sipping his gin morosely.
“Hey man,” an exuberant, and slightly slurred, voice greeted him, and the person attached to it bumped into the table a little as he pulled up a chair across from Castiel and sat down. “You okay? You look kinda down, and I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a party.”
Castiel sighed, and held his drink tight, took a breath and lifted his head to tell the drunk boy that he was fine and would appreciate being left alone. He paused mid-breath, and his eyes went wide, his tongue darting out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.
Sam Winchester.
He’d studied his picture a great deal on the two occasions that he’d been to see Dean, and he would recognise him anywhere.
A thousand different things ran through Castiel’s mind at that point. Things he could do, or say. Shake his hand and say ‘Hi, I’m Castiel, and I’m fucking your brother’. Smile and tell him, ‘I’m your brother’s boyfriend, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’ Purposely spill his drink all over himself so he had an excuse to leave, before he had to say anything at all.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted to meet the young man, had wanted Dean to be a part of it, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that the only way they’d ever actually meet would be to just randomly bump into each other in a city of sixty thousand people.
What he ended up doing, was playing dumb.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, instead of introducing himself. He wasn’t planning on telling Sam who he was, but he found that he wanted to take advantage of what might be his only chance to spend time with this person, who was obviously so very important to Dean. They could talk for a while, have a drink, and Castiel would leave, feeling a little bit closer to the guy he was sleeping with.
That was the plan.
One hour and four drinks later – well, four drinks for Sam anyway, while Castiel just nursed his original one, because he was driving – and Sam was getting decidedly handsy.
Castiel hadn’t said much, hadn’t done much, other than buy Sam drink after drink and encourage him to open up, to talk, share stories. He hadn’t encouraged Sam’s flirting in any way, had gone to extra lengths to be his usual outwardly stoic self, but apparently Dean had been right when he’d told Castiel about Sam’s eighteenth birthday party, and a drunk Sam was a frisky Sam.
It wasn’t until Sam had moved his chair around so that he was sitting right next to Castiel, hand sliding up Castiel’s inner thigh in what he probably assumed was a discreet manner, that Castiel said something.
“You don’t want to do this,” he said, and removed Sam’s hand from his leg, placing it on the table in front of them.
“I’ve what?!” Castiel asked, eyes going wide in shock, and pulling back out of Sam’s reach. He most certainly had not. Perhaps he’d been staring a little intently, but that was only because Sam’s face tended to light up when he told a story about Dean that was particularly embarrassing, or showed him in an especially flattering light.
He’d maybe leaned a little close to him over the table a few times, but that was because it was loud in the bar, and he hadn’t wanted to miss hearing about the time a ten year old Sam walked in on Dean losing his virginity to Cindy Doohan from his math class, or the time a five year old Sam had fallen out of the tree fort and broken his arm, and Dean had held his hand all the way to the hospital, and fed him chicken soup and ice cream in bed for a week after.
Sam was a substitute for what he really wanted, for Dean being here with him, and telling him all these stories that he would never share, because Dean was trying to convince the both of them that he was a heartless asshole. And Castiel hated Dean. He was in love with Dean, there was no getting around that, and he hated him for it.
Sam’s smile just spread, and he gave the most adorable little shrug, sly and coy, and acting like he couldn’t care one way or the other if Castiel fucked him or not. “I gotta tell ya, man. I don’t usually do this.”
“This?”
“Hook up with strangers like this. Shit, man, I don’t even know your name. I’m…”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me.” He thought about it for split second. About how much he wanted Dean to love him back, and the fact that he probably never would. About Sam, and how he’d shared more of Dean with him in the past hour than Dean had in more than three months. About how Castiel had fallen even further in love with Dean since Sam first sat down across from him.
About how Sam, in his own right, was an attractive man. Sweet and open with a brilliant smile and a stunning physique. About how much he wanted to hurt Dean for getting under his skin, turning him into a snivelling lapdog, begging for scraps, and being constantly denied.
About how he knew Dean thought he fucked a lot more people than he really did, and he wanted so badly to tell him that wasn’t the case. About how Dean knew about each and every person Castiel had been with since he’d met Dean, and about how he felt terrible about all three of them. About how the extra dishes on the counter and the unexplained pair of underwear in the middle of the living room floor belonged to Gabriel, and about how Castiel fell asleep alone each and every night that Dean wasn’t with him.
About just how good Sam would look, naked, and braced on his knees in the backseat of Castiel’s Mercedes, hands on the back dash with his chest pressed flush against the creamy leather of the seats while Castiel fucked into him slowly.
And he thought about how very much he suddenly wanted to make that happen.
“I have a car outside,” he said, nearly choking on the words and trying to ignore just how wrong this felt. He stood, and threw two twenties down onto their table. “Let’s go.”
Sam looked up at him then and blinked, looking much younger, more innocent than he had a moment ago.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered, and his voice sounded rough. He shook his head and offered Castiel a smile, standing with him. “I just… I meant what I said. I don’t do this. I’ve never done this.”
“We don’t have to,” Castiel said, immediately. “The last thing I want is for you to regret this.”
Because then Dean would somehow find out that Castiel had taken advantage of his little brother, and Dean would, quite literally, kill him.
“No, I want to,” Sam said and put a hand on Castiel’s hip, pulling him closer and ducking his head down for a kiss, his hands worming up Castiel’s back. Shit, he was tall. Castiel pushed him away, with a gentle hand on his chest.
“Not until we get outside,” he told him lowly. “And no kissing.”
Sam’s eyes widened briefly when he realised that he wasn’t going to be running the show this time, but then he smiled again, winked, and let Castiel lead him out of the bar, and across the parking lot.
***
“Dude, you are way too fucking chipper for this early in the morning,” Dean told him, trying to scowl, but so tired that he failed miserably. He succeeding in raising one questioning eyebrow, however, and took a large sip of the coffee that Sam had made.
Dean had gotten up five minutes ago, and Sam had been finishing up a breakfast of scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon, smiling and fucking humming to himself while he plated up the food.
“What’s your problem?”
“I got laid last night,” Sam told him, almost bouncing in his seat as he stuffed almost an entire piece of toast into his mouth.
“So?” Dean snorted grumpily. Fuck, he needed stronger coffee than this. He’d worked until four in the morning, and then he’d played darts with Andy until about six. “I’d say congratulations, but it’s not like it’s your first time. You’ve been getting laid pretty steadily since you hit puberty.”
“Not since Jake,” Sam said, and his face fell just a little, and Dean wanted to kick himself for quasi bringing it up.
“Fuck, Sammy…”
“No, it’s okay, Dean,” Sam said, and he looked like he actually meant it. “It’s just been months, and last night was… well it was kind of liberating, you know? No promises, no commitment, just… sex. Really fucking amazing sex.”
Dean’s face turned sour at Sam’s dreamy smile, and he tried not to spit his breakfast back up. “Dude, I really don’t need the details,” he said. “Anyway, since when are you the type to randomly hook up, huh Sammy? Last I checked you were Mister Commitment. Not exactly into one night stands. Besides, you came home last night. Alone.”
“I’m not into one night stands, Dean. Not usually. But there was just something about him, and I was having such a great time, and I figured why the hell not, you know?”
“Okay, I think I’m starting to rub off on you. I’d be proud, but on you it just seems sleazy. I make that shit work.” He cocked a grin, and chewed lewd and open-mouthed around a bite of pancake.
“Trust me Dean,” Sam said, screwing up his nose. “You don’t. Besides, I’m in college. This is my chance to let loose and act like a moron every once in a while. If I want to have sex with a hot older guy, and I’m not hurting anyone, then why the hell not?”
“Hey, speaking of ‘college experiences’,” Dean said, pointing his fork at Sam’s chest. “Whatever happened to that girl you met? The one that wants your junk.”
“Jess?”
“Yeah, Jess,” he grinned. “I mean, shouldn’t you be off with her, pretending to be hetero or something?”
“Fuck off,” Sam said, giving him the face to match. “I don’t know, Dean. I like her. I mean, I…” He trailed off and got a weird sort of a smile on his face, and Dean knew that meant that Sam really liked her. It was cute. “We haven’t even been on a date yet. I want to get to know her first. Go slow, and really make sure it goes right. If,” he added, and he sounded awkward and shy, and fuck, once that got out, and Sam learned how to harness it, he was going to be fighting girls off with a fucking stick. “If it goes at all. I’m still not sure, but… I want it to be right, if it happens.”
“Awwww,” Dean teased, and leaned across the table to push one finger against Sam’s nose. “Sammy’s first girlfriend. It’s adorable!”
“I hate you, so much,” Sam said, completely dejected and completely without venom, and Dean smirked.
“Besides, I think she’s kind of been dating some other guy, from our Economics class, so I don’t want to rush it, ask her out too soon, and screw things up. And until I’m sure she’s free, and interested…”
“You’ll just whore it up with strangers?”
“Ha ha.”
“No, seriously, Sam,” Dean said, and he didn’t have a hard time trying to sound interested. He actually was. “Your first one night stand. That’s exciting. Tell me about him.”
“Not much to tell, really,” Sam shrugged. “He was hot. Came off kind of intense, like when he looked at me was really looking at me, like normal human eye contact was a concept he wasn’t familiar with. And he had the most amazing eyes. Blue. Like, fucking blue. And I’m pretty sure he went more than a minute without blinking.
“It was kinda weird, but in a good way, you know? He was loaded, too, I’m pretty sure. Was dressed in friggin’ Armani, and he drove a Mercedes!”
“What, uh…” Dean started to ask, stopped to swallow a lump in his throat as he got a sinking feeling in his gut. It couldn’t fucking be. It just couldn’t. “What was his name?”
“We never actually exchanged names,” Sam admitted, and he looked down, like he regretted that fact. Fucking figured. Sam was so not the random sex type. “I wanted to, but he told me he didn’t want to.”
Dean nodded, and tried not to choke, tried to wrap his head around everything.
“Anyway, he was a little more toppy than my usual tastes. Made me hold still and be quiet and not finish until he said so. But fuck, it was hot. Hotter than I thought that shit would be.”
“That’s uh…” Dean said, and fought the dryness in his mouth. He was going to fucking kill Cas.
Nobody fucking fucked with his little brother like that, used him as a pawn in whatever fucked up game Cas was playing. It was one thing to treat Dean like shit, but another fucking thing entirely to use his brother like a cheap blow-up doll, only paying him as much attention as it would take to hurt Dean.
Because he was pretty sure that was exactly what Cas had done.
And Dean was about ready to fucking pop here. The fact that his heart was also kind of breaking almost didn’t register. At least, not yet.
“Good for you, Sammy.”
He finished the rest his breakfast in silence, and ignored the suspiciously concerned way Sam was looking at him, got up before Sam was done eating, and went back to sleep.
***
Dean had been quiet for the past few days, grunting his unenthusiastic hellos to Bobby, and offering quiet, half-assed smiles to his customers at Jesse’s. He’d barely said two words to Sam, waiting until he was gone to school, or work, in the mornings before coming out of his room, and sneaking in quietly at night, so he didn’t wake Sam up when he came home.
He wished he could have said that he was avoiding Cas as well, but the fucker hadn’t even called all weekend, and Dean was trying his damnedest to not care.
He barely grunted when Sam came home Monday evening, walked straight past Dean without a word, and ten seconds later came out of the kitchen carrying two beers. He gave one to Dean and sat down on the couch next to him, grabbed the remote control from his hand, and switched the channel to Discovery.
Dean didn’t even mind not being able to watch Nascar anymore, and his eyes almost watered with the tight pull in his chest, the want to just be able to hang out with his brother, without the crippling suspicion that his boyfriend’s dick had been up Sam’s ass a few days ago.
“Dean, man,” Sam started, and Dean cringed. That was the tone of a brother who wanted to ‘talk’. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Sam,” Dean said, and shrugged but the words came out entirely unconvincing.
“Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me for days. And I haven’t driven your car, or worn your last pair of clean underwear, or eaten your last fucking Rolo.”
“Dude, I don’t even like Rolos.”
“Dean!” Sam almost shouted, kicking his foot up on the coffee table, frustrated. “I’m being serious here. I know something’s bothering you, and I know it has something to do with me. So just tell me what the fuck it is, so I can kiss it and make it better, and we can move on.”
Dean took a long draw from his bottle of beer and kicked his own foot up on the table. Put it right next to Sam’s, and let it fall to the side, let it knock against Sam’s.
“It’s nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, nudged Sam’s foot again, and elbowed him playfully in the side. “Nothing that’s your fault. I promise.”
“Then why...?” Sam said, and was promptly and thankfully cut off by the doorbell ringing.
Dean shot Sam a puzzled look, and Sam shrugged, so Dean stood up and made his way to the door, and opened it.
“Dean-o!” Jo greeted, and grabbed his upper arm tightly, smiled, and kissed him on the cheek and brushed past him with a large brown paper bag in hand.
“Dean,” Ash said, curtly, nodding and sniffling, offered Dean a friendly punch to the stomach, and held up another bag, as he made his way inside.
“Uh… Hey,” Dean said, confused. “What are you guys doin’ here?”
“Nice to see you too, Dean,” Jo smiled, and put her paper bag down on the coffee table, opening it up, and started to take things out.
“No, it’s… it’s just a surprise.”
“Well, we were invited,” Ash drawled. “So it shouldn’t be.”
“Sam?”
“He made us bring food,” Ash confirmed, as Jo placed burgers and fries and salads down on the table. “But we were told there would be some PBR, and a monster movie marathon, so we figured it was worth it.”
Dean smiled and slapped Ash on the arm, looked slightly uncomfortable when Ash looked at him funny for it, and backed away, slowly.
“Well, come on in. The more the merrier.”
An hour into The Fly Dean’s cell phone rang, Cas flashing on the display, and Dean quietly shut it off, slipped it back into his pocket, and spent the rest of the evening eating and drinking and laughing when they found out that Ash’s fear of anything with more than four legs was even more hilarious in 72 inches of high-def surround sound.
He loved his fucking friends, and he loved his brother for knowing just what he needed to take his mind off all the bullshit.
***
Chapter 13
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ONYD!
But you did!
I'm really enjoying this. I've had to read it in bits and pieces since I haven't had a lot of free time, but when i do, I sit down with a chapter.
And I 'm not sure I'm going to be able to finish before I have to leave today and it's KILLING ME! I have to know what happens!
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But I still love him, for some reason...
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I was planning on reading 'till the end and then just giving you one long gushy comment but THIS, THIS NEEDS IMMEDIATE ATTENTION!
Good lord, I don't know if I love or hate you.
You know what? I love you but you've hurt me, deeply.
You don't even know me and LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!
Oh god, Sam is going to be mortified when he finally meets Cas...
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Awww, I'm sorry for hurting you! If it's any consolation, it hurt me too.
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