posted by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rockstarpeach at 04:50pm 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 04:50pm 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.
***
Castiel got home a little after midnight, and he was hoping Dean would still be there.
He felt terrible that he hadn’t already been home waiting when he was expecting Dean, and even worse that he hadn’t had a chance to so much as call, to tell Dean that he was going to be late, because of the shitstorm at work.
He strongly suspected Gabriel.
But Chuck was under orders to let Dean upstairs, and Dean knew that Castiel’s work could sometimes get crazy, so he was hoping he’d be waiting. Hoping and fantasising about Dean forgiving him and confessing his love and then fucking Castiel up against the bedroom wall, Castiel’s legs wrapped around Dean’s hips, while Dean supported their combined weight, and kissed him senseless.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.
“Dude,” Chuck said, barely looking up from his laptop when Castiel came through the front door. “Your boyfriend was here earlier. But he left a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shurley,” Castiel said, and eyed the computer suspiciously. “I sincerely hope you’re not basing your next work on my life, or that of my, uh… companions.” It had happened before, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Demons and monsters!”
“Yes, well,” Castiel nodded, and started toward the elevator. “Best of luck.”
“Wait,” Chuck called after him. “Wait!” Castiel turned around, raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “When Dean left he… didn’t look too good. Drunk. And miserable. Had to call him a cab. Put it on your tab, by the way.”
“Yes, that’s fine, Chuck,” Castiel said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He got into the elevator and hit the button for his floor, frowning. Why on Earth would Dean have spent hours at his place, gotten drunk, and then left before he got back? Yes, things were rocky between them, but with Dean’s text message earlier, Castiel had high hopes. Beyond the highly delicious, imagined wall-sex, he’d had hopes that they could move past everything, and Dean could let himself be loved.
And even if Dean had somehow managed to make that breakthrough, Castiel knew that he wasn’t the best qualified for that position. Knew that he’d never done a very good job of loving in the past. The two times he’d been in something even remotely resembling love, he’d more than messed it up, and the love he shared with Gabriel wasn’t exactly a shining example of anything healthy. The love he’d had, still did have, for his father, was even less so.
But no matter what happened between him and Dean, Castiel’s father wasn’t something he was willing to talk about. Ever. It was something he’d hoped that he’d long buried, but had probably gone a long way towards messing him up.
Then again, his own abandonment issues and hero complex probably made him a good match for Dean, at least in the realm of emotional availability.
In any case, it was less than ideal that Dean had left. It made him uncomfortable, edgy. He missed him already, and a vague sort of panic set it.
And when he opened the door to his darkened apartment, and walked down the entrance hallway to find Gabriel sitting in the recliner in his living room, that panic became acute, and coiled around his chest, choking him.
“What’s going on, brother?” he asked, and it came out quiet, not as intimidating as he’d have liked.
“Well it’s nice to see you too, Cas!” Gabe said, and tilted the almost empty bottle of what Catiel recognised as his finest Scotch at him, somewhat drunkenly. “Fix that pesky problem with the computers?”
“You did that on purpose,” Castiel said, his previous suspicions confirmed. If he’d been thinking clearly earlier, he’d have left Gabriel there to deal with it. Or, more probably not, since his brother would only mess things up worse if he was left unsupervised.
“Yes. But…” Gabriel’s finger came up, and waved in Castiel’s direction, like it could make a very important, slightly drunken, point all on its own. “I did it for you.”
“How is that, exactly?” Castiel asked, and threw his trench coat over the back of his couch, moving around it to sit down on the end nearest his brother.
“I had to test your boy. It wasn’t pretty,” he added, and shook his head, shuddering, like he’d been put through a huge burden. “And I wouldn’t sit on the other side of the couch until you get the cleaners in, but... Good news! He really does love you!”
“You’re drunk,” Castiel told him, narrowing his eyes and standing up again, ready to turn and head to bed, and ignore his idiot brother until he sobered up. Desperately, in the back of his mind, he hoped that Gabriel would shut the hell up, and not confirm his sudden biggest fear.
“Yes,” Gabriel admitted, nodding his head. “A lot more now than I was half an hour ago. When your pretty little boyfriend fucked me into this couch here.”
Castiel’s eyes went wide for a split second, then narrowed into dangerous slits, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed in and pursed his lips. Yes, that right there was the confession he’d been hoping to avoid, true or not.
“What?” he asked, and the word was as much threat as it was question, and even though Gabriel was older, and stronger, he knew not to fuck with Castiel when Castiel wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Bro. He didn’t actually fuck me, fuck me.”
Castiel’s look didn’t change, and he tensed slightly, his posture growing more threatening as he leaned closer to Gabriel.
“Fine,” Gabriel sighed. “If you want all the pervy details, he jumped on top of me and jerked me off. And he was every bit as you good as you said he was.”
Castiel’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Gabriel held up his hand in supplication.
“In his defence, he was drunk, and pissed off at you. And he honest to God threw up after, he was feeling so bad about it. You should be proud of him. I was.”
“And in your defence?”
Gabriel just smiled, winked, took another drink from the almost empty bottle in his hand. “I don’t need any. You already know I’m an ass.”
Castiel moved forward so fast even Gabriel didn’t see him, and with a hand gripping the front of his brother’s shirt, he pulled him up straight to standing, and flush against him, looked down into Gabriel’s eyes.
“Oh, Castiel,” Gabriel said, mockingly, before Castiel could open his mouth. “You know I love it when you get all dom on me.”
Castiel turned his head away in disgust, and pushed his brother back, putting several feet between them. He forced himself not to look down at the couch.
“Oh, come on Cas. You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think you deserved this. And you know he needed it just as bad. You broke his heart, made him feel like a fool. He needed to level the playing field. And he needed to feel like shit himself, so that he could finally understand how badly you’ve been beating yourself up. I was the only one that could help with that, so I selflessly gave of my time, and my virtue, for the sake of your relationship with the rent-a-twink.”
Castiel took a deep breath, and that went a long way toward him not punching his brother in the face. That he was half right meant nothing. Castiel did think he deserved this, but Dean didn’t need what he’d done. He’d feel horrible about it, Castiel knew that. He’d have a difficult time forgiving himself, and Castiel wouldn’t forgive his brother, until that happened.
And that it gave him hope only angered Castiel further. If Dean had… Castiel didn’t even want to think it but, if Dean had, and if he felt as bad about it as Gabriel claimed, then maybe there was a chance for them.
Still, if he had to look at his brother for one more minute, homicide would not be an unexpected turn of events.
“He’s no such thing,” Castiel said, darkly. “And you need to mind your own business. And you need to leave, before we’re both sorry.”
“Cas,” Gabriel smiled, and stepped closer to him, put his hand on Castiel’s arm softly, placating. “Come on, man. I love you like a brother…”
“I am your brother,” Castiel interrupted whatever brilliant and insightful thing Gabriel had been about to say.
Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Which is why I love you like one. But you’re a shitty boyfriend.” He ignored Castiel, even as his eyes hardened further, and pressed on. “You tried to buy Dean off, and that didn’t work. Then you tried cheating on him, and big friggin’ surprise, that didn’t work either. So instead of, oh, I don’t know, trying to build an actual relationship with him, you try to buy him off and cheat on him again? With his own brother? ”
“Your point?”
“Castiel!” Gabriel said, drawing the word out on a sigh. “You feel like shit, Bro! Both of you do. That is my point.”
“Get out.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes but stepped back, and moved toward the door. Castiel turned his back on him, looked down at the table hosting two empty bottles, and two empty glasses, and waited for the sound of the door opening to signal Gabriel’s departure.
“You’re welcome!” he heard, chipper and confident, just before the door closed.
If he wasn’t used to his brother by now, he’d have definitely killed him.
***
Castiel called Dean the following evening, and it was a short conversation. Dean was at work, but he must have been on a break, because he answered the phone, and it was relatively quiet, and he didn’t insist that he had to go right away.
They didn’t talk for long, didn’t talk about anything, really. Neither of them brought up the fact that Dean was gone when Castiel got home the previous night, and neither of them mentioned Gabriel.
Castiel told Dean he missed him, and Dean said he had to get back to work, and they both awkwardly ended the call.
It just about killed Castiel, but he managed to go a few more days without either phoning Dean, or going to see him.
He gave up on Saturday, at eleven in the morning.
Called him, asked him to come see him, before Dean needed to start work at Bobby’s. It wouldn’t leave them a lot of time, but then again, they might not need it.
“Can’t,” Dean said, coughed a little. “I’m in the car right now, on my way to brunch, if you can you fuckin’ believe it.”
“I’m having a hard time,” Castiel admitted with a slight smile.
“Sam made me promise to meet his girlfriend, and this was pretty much the only time we could swing it. Fucking… girlfriend, man. I honestly thought the dude was gay.”
There was nothing Castiel could say to that, really, so instead he took a deep breath, held the phone tighter in his hand. “Have fun, Dean,” he told him. “And call me. If you want.”
Dean mumbled something non-committal and hung up, and Castiel tried not to fall apart.
***
Castiel was surprised when Dean called him Monday afternoon, halfway through his shift at Bobby’s, and told him he was planning on coming to see him that night.
He was even more surprised when he got home from work at half past six, and Dean was already in his kitchen, trying to toss a pizza dough, one that looked like he’d made it from scratch, into the approximate shape of a circle.
“Dean?” he asked, from the kitchen doorway.
Dean jerked, and dropped the dough on the countertop, whirled around and scowled. “Fuck. Little warning would be nice.”
“Jumpy?”
Dean looked away, shifty and uncomfortable, and Castiel didn’t call him on it. Not yet.
He knew exactly what his problem was. It had been Castiel’s problem not so long ago, and he knew how hard it was to keep that secret, and pretend that it wasn’t eating away at you.
“Shut up. I’m just trying to do something nice for you. You think maybe you’d be able to keep your mouth shut, and let me?”
Castiel nodded, and backed away, went to get cleaned up and changed out of his work clothes, and by the time he got back into the kitchen, the pizza was almost ready.
Dean was setting the table, and it looked scattered and haphazard, much like the pizza did a few minutes later when it came out of the oven, but it tasted good. Castiel was impressed.
Dinner conversation was stilted and awkward and Castiel got a twisted sort of satisfaction at watching Dean squirm, knowing that he was feeling guilty, and happy about it.
“Bedroom?’ Castiel asked, when Dean swallowed down his last piece of crust, and licked his fingers.
“I uh…” Dean hedged, looking at the table, and then the kitchen. “We should clean up.”
“Leave it.”
“Seriously?” Dean asked. “You want to leave it?”
“I want you, Dean. Is there some reason you’re not interested?”
“What? No. No, of course not. I just…”
“Good,” Castiel smiled. “Then bedroom.”
Dean bit his lip, but nodded, and followed him.
Dean was beautiful, eyes cast down and toned muscles under smooth skin, as Castiel stripped him, stripped them both, and led Dean back to the bed.
Dean went willingly, although he didn’t actively participate, and he let Castiel push him down, let him straddle his hips, tease his nipples to aching hardness with his tongue and lick across each rib torturously slowly, while he collected both of Dean’s hands in one of his, and pinned them to the bed above his head.
Castiel used his other hand to guide Dean inside him, and rode him slowly, fingers squeezing around Dean’s wrists, and lips pressing to Dean’s jaw, and cheek, until they were both breathing raggedly, jerking their hips desperately with the need to finish.
Castiel did. Sat up straight and let Dean’s hands go, but they stayed exactly where they were, because Dean was a good boy. Castiel jerked himself with one hand, the other digging tight into his thigh as he spilled over his fist, and onto Dean’s stomach, his breath catching in his throat.
Dean didn’t come. Castiel had told him not to. For the first time, Castiel had doubted Dean’s willingness to obey, but the doubt had been small, and it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Dean did as he was told.
“Cas?” Dean asked, when Castiel’s breathing evened out, his voice shaky with need.
“No,” Castiel told him, knowing he was pushing his luck, that any second now Dean would shout at him, sound and fury, demand Cas get him off. Or beg. Something.
But Castiel pulled off him and carefully laid himself down on the bed next to Dean, placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him, “Sleep.” And Dean didn’t complain.
He was uncomfortable, Castiel knew that. Could feel it in the tense lines of his shoulders as Dean rolled over, showing Castiel his back, breathed deeply and curled in on himself. This was Dean’s chance. To tell Cas where to stick it, because the games they played in the bedroom, the give and take of power, that was all well and good, and a complete opposite of the balance of power in every other aspect of their relationship, but it was only fun as long as it was fun.
Castiel was Dean’s bitch. It was just a shame the younger man hadn’t figured it out yet.
And the way he held himself, tightly coiled and angry and needy, and feeling so guilty that he wouldn’t ask Cas for what he needed, wouldn’t even just take it for himself, tore Castiel open and left him broken once again.
He wondered how many times he would have to break his heart on Dean for it to take, for him to give up and find someone less emotionally destructive.
“So,” he commented, trying in vain to sound aloof. “This is how it’s going to be?” He was dying to touch Dean, to comfort him, bring him off, but Dean wasn’t asking, and it was killing him.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice soft and almost inaudible.
“You feel so bad about yourself for doing something that I wholly deserved, that you’re willing to submit to anything I ask? You know that I love you, Dean, and no single act of desperation could possibly change that.”
“You know.”
“I know,” Castiel confirmed, simply. “And before you ask if I care, the answer is yes. I care. I’m devastated. But I deserved it. And perhaps now we can move on. If you’re interested in moving on, that is.”
“He told you?” Dean asked, and Castiel didn’t need to answer. “The fucker probably smiled through it, didn’t he? Got off on spilling all the details?”
“He’d already gotten off that night, and he isn’t exactly young anymore,” Castiel said, and gave Dean a sad half smile, and pushed himself up on his elbows, but quickly sobered.
“Cas, I’m…”
“Dean, stop. I know you’re sorry,” he said, and pushed down on Dean’s chest lightly, forcing him to lie back. “So am I,” he continued, and his hand trailed down Dean’s stomach, over the smooth lines of his abdominals and into the dip below. “Maybe Gabriel was right.”
Dean shook his head, and opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel’s hand rolled him over and gripped his still-hard dick, started stroking, the motions firm and practiced. “Maybe we needed this, so that you understood. So that you could see. I screwed up, Dean.” His hand got faster, and he curled up behind Dean, his free hand sloshing through his own come that had landed on his stomach, and slid two slick fingers into Dean’s ass.
“Cas, I…” Dean panted, worked his hips back and forth. “I fucked up.”
“Dean, stop,” Castiel said, and both of his hands worked harder. “We both did.” Another minute, the silence in the room filled with the beautiful sound of Dean Winchester approaching orgasm, and then crashing down from it, and Castiel felt his heart swell.
“I love you, Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s ear just as he was at the crest of his climax, and Dean whimpered, bucked extra hard, and fell limp and boneless to the bed. “Nothing else matters,” he said, as he slowly stroked Dean through his recovery, removed the fingers from his hole, and placed a kiss on Dean’s shoulder.
“I love you, and I know things have gotten out of control.” He nuzzled the short hairs on the back of Dean’s neck and tightened his hold around his waist. “I’d honestly not realised before, but the way we’ve done things, is not the way to…” He broke off, and huffed out a humourless laugh. “I’d like to start over, Dean, if you’ll let us. Try this again, with no games or bribes or lies. Just us. If you want.”
“Cas I…” Dean sighed, and turned so he was facing Castiel, kissed his forehead, letting the soft touch of his lips lingers as he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and then pulled back. “I don’t know, man.”
“I won’t force you, Dean. Not again. If you honestly don’t think we have anything beyond our financial arrangement, I’ll walk away. It will break my heart, but I promise to let you go.”
Dean’s chest tightened under Castiel’s hand, and Castiel fought the urge to kiss him.
“It’s not…” Dean said, and Castiel almost felt good that it was causing him so much trouble just to get through a simple sentence. “Of course I feel something for you, you friggin’ douche. That’s the whole reason I’m so fucked up, and you know it.”
Castiel’s bravery was bolstered by Dean’s admission, and his hand smoothed over Dean’s back, to the base of his spine and back up again.
“I just… this whole thing is so fucked up, and…” He blew out a harsh breath, but moved an inch closer to Castiel, which he took as a good sign. “I just need some time.”
***
Cas didn’t give him much time, in the end.
A week and a half, to be exact.
He’d left Cas’ place the next morning, at seven. Didn’t sneak out, but Cas didn’t cook him breakfast either, and he was determined to sit down, and think things out.
He didn’t.
In fact, he went out of his way not to think about it, because he didn’t want the responsibility of coming to the decision he’d already come to, and getting all gushy and shit over it, weeping to Cas about how they should be together forever or something. Much as he liked the guy, he honestly wasn’t sure he could see that happening.
It was touch and go for a while, but Dean managed to hold back from saying or doing anything too stupid, and on a Thursday night, or Friday morning, more accurately, Dean closed up Jesse’s on his own, at four in the morning, and his life took a sharp turn.
He opened the back door and stepped out, the empty parking lot spread out in front of him like he expected it. Except for the business man in a trench coat, leaning against his Mercedes, and eyeing Dean up and down.
Cas had his hands in his pockets, just like he had the first day they’d met, and even cocked his head a little for good measure.
“Hello Dean,” he said, standing up straight in front of the car, and Dean licked his lips, and took an unconscious step closer.
“My name is Castiel, and I’d like to go out on a date with you.”
Dean cracked a smile, and it softened, became more genuine, when Cas walked around his Mercedes, and crossed half the lot to stop at the passenger door of Dean’s Impala, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, and Dean hurried over to his car, opened Cas’ door first, and then went around to his own.
Yeah, Dean thought, as they both got in and he started up his baby, pulling out of the lot and heading towards Harvelle’s. It might take a while to get where he wanted them to be, if they ever got there at all, but he could totally do starting over.
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.
***
Castiel got home a little after midnight, and he was hoping Dean would still be there.
He felt terrible that he hadn’t already been home waiting when he was expecting Dean, and even worse that he hadn’t had a chance to so much as call, to tell Dean that he was going to be late, because of the shitstorm at work.
He strongly suspected Gabriel.
But Chuck was under orders to let Dean upstairs, and Dean knew that Castiel’s work could sometimes get crazy, so he was hoping he’d be waiting. Hoping and fantasising about Dean forgiving him and confessing his love and then fucking Castiel up against the bedroom wall, Castiel’s legs wrapped around Dean’s hips, while Dean supported their combined weight, and kissed him senseless.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.
“Dude,” Chuck said, barely looking up from his laptop when Castiel came through the front door. “Your boyfriend was here earlier. But he left a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shurley,” Castiel said, and eyed the computer suspiciously. “I sincerely hope you’re not basing your next work on my life, or that of my, uh… companions.” It had happened before, and it wasn’t pretty.
“This?” Chuck asked, and waved at his computer, smiling. “Dude, no way. I uh… I learned my lesson last time. This is gonna be epic!” He sounded excited actually, and Castiel found himself smiling along with him, despite his disappointment that Dean had come and gone.
“Demons and monsters!”
“Yes, well,” Castiel nodded, and started toward the elevator. “Best of luck.”
“Wait,” Chuck called after him. “Wait!” Castiel turned around, raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “When Dean left he… didn’t look too good. Drunk. And miserable. Had to call him a cab. Put it on your tab, by the way.”
“Yes, that’s fine, Chuck,” Castiel said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He got into the elevator and hit the button for his floor, frowning. Why on Earth would Dean have spent hours at his place, gotten drunk, and then left before he got back? Yes, things were rocky between them, but with Dean’s text message earlier, Castiel had high hopes. Beyond the highly delicious, imagined wall-sex, he’d had hopes that they could move past everything, and Dean could let himself be loved.
And even if Dean had somehow managed to make that breakthrough, Castiel knew that he wasn’t the best qualified for that position. Knew that he’d never done a very good job of loving in the past. The two times he’d been in something even remotely resembling love, he’d more than messed it up, and the love he shared with Gabriel wasn’t exactly a shining example of anything healthy. The love he’d had, still did have, for his father, was even less so.
But no matter what happened between him and Dean, Castiel’s father wasn’t something he was willing to talk about. Ever. It was something he’d hoped that he’d long buried, but had probably gone a long way towards messing him up.
Then again, his own abandonment issues and hero complex probably made him a good match for Dean, at least in the realm of emotional availability.
In any case, it was less than ideal that Dean had left. It made him uncomfortable, edgy. He missed him already, and a vague sort of panic set it.
And when he opened the door to his darkened apartment, and walked down the entrance hallway to find Gabriel sitting in the recliner in his living room, that panic became acute, and coiled around his chest, choking him.
“What’s going on, brother?” he asked, and it came out quiet, not as intimidating as he’d have liked.
“Well it’s nice to see you too, Cas!” Gabe said, and tilted the almost empty bottle of what Catiel recognised as his finest Scotch at him, somewhat drunkenly. “Fix that pesky problem with the computers?”
“You did that on purpose,” Castiel said, his previous suspicions confirmed. If he’d been thinking clearly earlier, he’d have left Gabriel there to deal with it. Or, more probably not, since his brother would only mess things up worse if he was left unsupervised.
“Yes. But…” Gabriel’s finger came up, and waved in Castiel’s direction, like it could make a very important, slightly drunken, point all on its own. “I did it for you.”
“How is that, exactly?” Castiel asked, and threw his trench coat over the back of his couch, moving around it to sit down on the end nearest his brother.
“I had to test your boy. It wasn’t pretty,” he added, and shook his head, shuddering, like he’d been put through a huge burden. “And I wouldn’t sit on the other side of the couch until you get the cleaners in, but... Good news! He really does love you!”
“You’re drunk,” Castiel told him, narrowing his eyes and standing up again, ready to turn and head to bed, and ignore his idiot brother until he sobered up. Desperately, in the back of his mind, he hoped that Gabriel would shut the hell up, and not confirm his sudden biggest fear.
“Yes,” Gabriel admitted, nodding his head. “A lot more now than I was half an hour ago. When your pretty little boyfriend fucked me into this couch here.”
Castiel’s eyes went wide for a split second, then narrowed into dangerous slits, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed in and pursed his lips. Yes, that right there was the confession he’d been hoping to avoid, true or not.
“What?” he asked, and the word was as much threat as it was question, and even though Gabriel was older, and stronger, he knew not to fuck with Castiel when Castiel wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Bro. He didn’t actually fuck me, fuck me.”
Castiel’s look didn’t change, and he tensed slightly, his posture growing more threatening as he leaned closer to Gabriel.
“Fine,” Gabriel sighed. “If you want all the pervy details, he jumped on top of me and jerked me off. And he was every bit as you good as you said he was.”
Castiel’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Gabriel held up his hand in supplication.
“In his defence, he was drunk, and pissed off at you. And he honest to God threw up after, he was feeling so bad about it. You should be proud of him. I was.”
“And in your defence?”
Gabriel just smiled, winked, took another drink from the almost empty bottle in his hand. “I don’t need any. You already know I’m an ass.”
Castiel moved forward so fast even Gabriel didn’t see him, and with a hand gripping the front of his brother’s shirt, he pulled him up straight to standing, and flush against him, looked down into Gabriel’s eyes.
“Oh, Castiel,” Gabriel said, mockingly, before Castiel could open his mouth. “You know I love it when you get all dom on me.”
Castiel turned his head away in disgust, and pushed his brother back, putting several feet between them. He forced himself not to look down at the couch.
“Oh, come on Cas. You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think you deserved this. And you know he needed it just as bad. You broke his heart, made him feel like a fool. He needed to level the playing field. And he needed to feel like shit himself, so that he could finally understand how badly you’ve been beating yourself up. I was the only one that could help with that, so I selflessly gave of my time, and my virtue, for the sake of your relationship with the rent-a-twink.”
Castiel took a deep breath, and that went a long way toward him not punching his brother in the face. That he was half right meant nothing. Castiel did think he deserved this, but Dean didn’t need what he’d done. He’d feel horrible about it, Castiel knew that. He’d have a difficult time forgiving himself, and Castiel wouldn’t forgive his brother, until that happened.
And that it gave him hope only angered Castiel further. If Dean had… Castiel didn’t even want to think it but, if Dean had, and if he felt as bad about it as Gabriel claimed, then maybe there was a chance for them.
Still, if he had to look at his brother for one more minute, homicide would not be an unexpected turn of events.
“He’s no such thing,” Castiel said, darkly. “And you need to mind your own business. And you need to leave, before we’re both sorry.”
“Cas,” Gabriel smiled, and stepped closer to him, put his hand on Castiel’s arm softly, placating. “Come on, man. I love you like a brother…”
“I am your brother,” Castiel interrupted whatever brilliant and insightful thing Gabriel had been about to say.
Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Which is why I love you like one. But you’re a shitty boyfriend.” He ignored Castiel, even as his eyes hardened further, and pressed on. “You tried to buy Dean off, and that didn’t work. Then you tried cheating on him, and big friggin’ surprise, that didn’t work either. So instead of, oh, I don’t know, trying to build an actual relationship with him, you try to buy him off and cheat on him again? With his own brother? ”
“Your point?”
“Castiel!” Gabriel said, drawing the word out on a sigh. “You feel like shit, Bro! Both of you do. That is my point.”
“Get out.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes but stepped back, and moved toward the door. Castiel turned his back on him, looked down at the table hosting two empty bottles, and two empty glasses, and waited for the sound of the door opening to signal Gabriel’s departure.
“You’re welcome!” he heard, chipper and confident, just before the door closed.
If he wasn’t used to his brother by now, he’d have definitely killed him.
***
Castiel called Dean the following evening, and it was a short conversation. Dean was at work, but he must have been on a break, because he answered the phone, and it was relatively quiet, and he didn’t insist that he had to go right away.
They didn’t talk for long, didn’t talk about anything, really. Neither of them brought up the fact that Dean was gone when Castiel got home the previous night, and neither of them mentioned Gabriel.
Castiel told Dean he missed him, and Dean said he had to get back to work, and they both awkwardly ended the call.
It just about killed Castiel, but he managed to go a few more days without either phoning Dean, or going to see him.
He gave up on Saturday, at eleven in the morning.
Called him, asked him to come see him, before Dean needed to start work at Bobby’s. It wouldn’t leave them a lot of time, but then again, they might not need it.
“Can’t,” Dean said, coughed a little. “I’m in the car right now, on my way to brunch, if you can you fuckin’ believe it.”
“I’m having a hard time,” Castiel admitted with a slight smile.
“Sam made me promise to meet his girlfriend, and this was pretty much the only time we could swing it. Fucking… girlfriend, man. I honestly thought the dude was gay.”
There was nothing Castiel could say to that, really, so instead he took a deep breath, held the phone tighter in his hand. “Have fun, Dean,” he told him. “And call me. If you want.”
Dean mumbled something non-committal and hung up, and Castiel tried not to fall apart.
***
Castiel was surprised when Dean called him Monday afternoon, halfway through his shift at Bobby’s, and told him he was planning on coming to see him that night.
He was even more surprised when he got home from work at half past six, and Dean was already in his kitchen, trying to toss a pizza dough, one that looked like he’d made it from scratch, into the approximate shape of a circle.
“Dean?” he asked, from the kitchen doorway.
Dean jerked, and dropped the dough on the countertop, whirled around and scowled. “Fuck. Little warning would be nice.”
“Jumpy?”
Dean looked away, shifty and uncomfortable, and Castiel didn’t call him on it. Not yet.
He knew exactly what his problem was. It had been Castiel’s problem not so long ago, and he knew how hard it was to keep that secret, and pretend that it wasn’t eating away at you.
“Shut up. I’m just trying to do something nice for you. You think maybe you’d be able to keep your mouth shut, and let me?”
Castiel nodded, and backed away, went to get cleaned up and changed out of his work clothes, and by the time he got back into the kitchen, the pizza was almost ready.
Dean was setting the table, and it looked scattered and haphazard, much like the pizza did a few minutes later when it came out of the oven, but it tasted good. Castiel was impressed.
Dinner conversation was stilted and awkward and Castiel got a twisted sort of satisfaction at watching Dean squirm, knowing that he was feeling guilty, and happy about it.
“Bedroom?’ Castiel asked, when Dean swallowed down his last piece of crust, and licked his fingers.
“I uh…” Dean hedged, looking at the table, and then the kitchen. “We should clean up.”
“Leave it.”
“Seriously?” Dean asked. “You want to leave it?”
“I want you, Dean. Is there some reason you’re not interested?”
“What? No. No, of course not. I just…”
“Good,” Castiel smiled. “Then bedroom.”
Dean bit his lip, but nodded, and followed him.
Dean was beautiful, eyes cast down and toned muscles under smooth skin, as Castiel stripped him, stripped them both, and led Dean back to the bed.
Dean went willingly, although he didn’t actively participate, and he let Castiel push him down, let him straddle his hips, tease his nipples to aching hardness with his tongue and lick across each rib torturously slowly, while he collected both of Dean’s hands in one of his, and pinned them to the bed above his head.
Castiel used his other hand to guide Dean inside him, and rode him slowly, fingers squeezing around Dean’s wrists, and lips pressing to Dean’s jaw, and cheek, until they were both breathing raggedly, jerking their hips desperately with the need to finish.
Castiel did. Sat up straight and let Dean’s hands go, but they stayed exactly where they were, because Dean was a good boy. Castiel jerked himself with one hand, the other digging tight into his thigh as he spilled over his fist, and onto Dean’s stomach, his breath catching in his throat.
Dean didn’t come. Castiel had told him not to. For the first time, Castiel had doubted Dean’s willingness to obey, but the doubt had been small, and it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Dean did as he was told.
“Cas?” Dean asked, when Castiel’s breathing evened out, his voice shaky with need.
“No,” Castiel told him, knowing he was pushing his luck, that any second now Dean would shout at him, sound and fury, demand Cas get him off. Or beg. Something.
But Castiel pulled off him and carefully laid himself down on the bed next to Dean, placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him, “Sleep.” And Dean didn’t complain.
He was uncomfortable, Castiel knew that. Could feel it in the tense lines of his shoulders as Dean rolled over, showing Castiel his back, breathed deeply and curled in on himself. This was Dean’s chance. To tell Cas where to stick it, because the games they played in the bedroom, the give and take of power, that was all well and good, and a complete opposite of the balance of power in every other aspect of their relationship, but it was only fun as long as it was fun.
Castiel was Dean’s bitch. It was just a shame the younger man hadn’t figured it out yet.
And the way he held himself, tightly coiled and angry and needy, and feeling so guilty that he wouldn’t ask Cas for what he needed, wouldn’t even just take it for himself, tore Castiel open and left him broken once again.
He wondered how many times he would have to break his heart on Dean for it to take, for him to give up and find someone less emotionally destructive.
“So,” he commented, trying in vain to sound aloof. “This is how it’s going to be?” He was dying to touch Dean, to comfort him, bring him off, but Dean wasn’t asking, and it was killing him.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice soft and almost inaudible.
“You feel so bad about yourself for doing something that I wholly deserved, that you’re willing to submit to anything I ask? You know that I love you, Dean, and no single act of desperation could possibly change that.”
“You know.”
“I know,” Castiel confirmed, simply. “And before you ask if I care, the answer is yes. I care. I’m devastated. But I deserved it. And perhaps now we can move on. If you’re interested in moving on, that is.”
“He told you?” Dean asked, and Castiel didn’t need to answer. “The fucker probably smiled through it, didn’t he? Got off on spilling all the details?”
“He’d already gotten off that night, and he isn’t exactly young anymore,” Castiel said, and gave Dean a sad half smile, and pushed himself up on his elbows, but quickly sobered.
“Cas, I’m…”
“Dean, stop. I know you’re sorry,” he said, and pushed down on Dean’s chest lightly, forcing him to lie back. “So am I,” he continued, and his hand trailed down Dean’s stomach, over the smooth lines of his abdominals and into the dip below. “Maybe Gabriel was right.”
Dean shook his head, and opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel’s hand rolled him over and gripped his still-hard dick, started stroking, the motions firm and practiced. “Maybe we needed this, so that you understood. So that you could see. I screwed up, Dean.” His hand got faster, and he curled up behind Dean, his free hand sloshing through his own come that had landed on his stomach, and slid two slick fingers into Dean’s ass.
“Cas, I…” Dean panted, worked his hips back and forth. “I fucked up.”
“Dean, stop,” Castiel said, and both of his hands worked harder. “We both did.” Another minute, the silence in the room filled with the beautiful sound of Dean Winchester approaching orgasm, and then crashing down from it, and Castiel felt his heart swell.
“I love you, Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s ear just as he was at the crest of his climax, and Dean whimpered, bucked extra hard, and fell limp and boneless to the bed. “Nothing else matters,” he said, as he slowly stroked Dean through his recovery, removed the fingers from his hole, and placed a kiss on Dean’s shoulder.
“I love you, and I know things have gotten out of control.” He nuzzled the short hairs on the back of Dean’s neck and tightened his hold around his waist. “I’d honestly not realised before, but the way we’ve done things, is not the way to…” He broke off, and huffed out a humourless laugh. “I’d like to start over, Dean, if you’ll let us. Try this again, with no games or bribes or lies. Just us. If you want.”
“Cas I…” Dean sighed, and turned so he was facing Castiel, kissed his forehead, letting the soft touch of his lips lingers as he squeezed his eyes shut briefly, and then pulled back. “I don’t know, man.”
“I won’t force you, Dean. Not again. If you honestly don’t think we have anything beyond our financial arrangement, I’ll walk away. It will break my heart, but I promise to let you go.”
Dean’s chest tightened under Castiel’s hand, and Castiel fought the urge to kiss him.
“It’s not…” Dean said, and Castiel almost felt good that it was causing him so much trouble just to get through a simple sentence. “Of course I feel something for you, you friggin’ douche. That’s the whole reason I’m so fucked up, and you know it.”
Castiel’s bravery was bolstered by Dean’s admission, and his hand smoothed over Dean’s back, to the base of his spine and back up again.
“I just… this whole thing is so fucked up, and…” He blew out a harsh breath, but moved an inch closer to Castiel, which he took as a good sign. “I just need some time.”
***
Cas didn’t give him much time, in the end.
A week and a half, to be exact.
He’d left Cas’ place the next morning, at seven. Didn’t sneak out, but Cas didn’t cook him breakfast either, and he was determined to sit down, and think things out.
He didn’t.
In fact, he went out of his way not to think about it, because he didn’t want the responsibility of coming to the decision he’d already come to, and getting all gushy and shit over it, weeping to Cas about how they should be together forever or something. Much as he liked the guy, he honestly wasn’t sure he could see that happening.
It was touch and go for a while, but Dean managed to hold back from saying or doing anything too stupid, and on a Thursday night, or Friday morning, more accurately, Dean closed up Jesse’s on his own, at four in the morning, and his life took a sharp turn.
He opened the back door and stepped out, the empty parking lot spread out in front of him like he expected it. Except for the business man in a trench coat, leaning against his Mercedes, and eyeing Dean up and down.
Cas had his hands in his pockets, just like he had the first day they’d met, and even cocked his head a little for good measure.
“Hello Dean,” he said, standing up straight in front of the car, and Dean licked his lips, and took an unconscious step closer.
“My name is Castiel, and I’d like to go out on a date with you.”
Dean cracked a smile, and it softened, became more genuine, when Cas walked around his Mercedes, and crossed half the lot to stop at the passenger door of Dean’s Impala, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, and Dean hurried over to his car, opened Cas’ door first, and then went around to his own.
Yeah, Dean thought, as they both got in and he started up his baby, pulling out of the lot and heading towards Harvelle’s. It might take a while to get where he wanted them to be, if they ever got there at all, but he could totally do starting over.
END
Thanks so much for reading!!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}