Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3323156.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester/Mary_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel_(Supernatural), Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Mary_Winchester,
      John_Winchester, Benny_Lafitte, Charlie_Bradbury
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Twincest, Dean_and_Cas_Are_Twins, Top_Dean, Bottom
      Castiel, Dom/sub_Undertones, Dirty_Talk, Name_Calling, Alternate_Universe
      -_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Blowjobs,
      Marriage_Proposal, Fluff_and_Smut, Bisexual_Benny, No_One_On_This_Show_Is
      Straight_Fight_Me
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-10 Words: 12303
****** Aperture ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Some people asked them how it was that they never fought.
     “Oh, we do,” Dean always answered. “Cas just never lets us stay angry
     for long.”
     Everything between them was as perfect as it could possibly be. Until
     junior year.
     ◊ ◊ ◊
     In which Dean and Cas are brothers, Sam is not as oblivious as
     everyone thinks he is, and the boys get married. Sort of.
Notes
     Ok, so I basally just had a lot of fun writing this, and it's 90%
     self-indulgent porn and dirty talk and 10% semi-angsty plot. I hope
     you enjoy it as much as I did!
     Also: In my state, 18 is the legal age, so that's why I put the
     'underage' warning in the tags, even though Dean and Cas are both
     sixteen when the actual sex occurs.
See the end of the work for more notes
Ever since they'd been brought into the world kicking and screaming and seven
minutes apart, Dean and Cas had been inseparable. The first night after John
and Mary brought their sons home, they woke up to two voices screaming and
found them reaching across the room towards the other's cribs and crying their
lungs out. After a week straight of the boys refusing to go more than a few
feet away from the other without wailing, they just gave up. A day later, Dean
and Castiel slept straight through the night, little bodies pressed together
and Castiel sucking on Dean's thumb. 
As the boys grew, nothing changed. They were fraternal twins, but they couldn't
have been any closer if they'd been identical. Dean took his first steps at ten
months old, and two days later Castiel resolutely stood on his own two feet and
stumbled after his little brother. When they fell, they fell together, and they
laughed. 
Dean's first word was "Cas." The nickname stuck, and Dean toddled around the
house, dragging his big brother with him and obstinately introducing him as
"Cas" to their stuffed animals, the pictures on the walls, and the furniture.
Three weeks later, Cas's first word was "Dean."
When they graduated from cribs to beds, John had been hesitant to buy only one
queen sized mattress, but Mary pointed out that they would likely end up in a
single bed anyway, and that it was best if they saved themselves the trouble of
having to get a bigger bed for the two of them later. John reluctantly agreed,
but after they had the room set up and looked in on their sons that night,
wrapped around each other in their bumblebee pajamas, he had to admit that his
wife had a point. 
When baby Sammy was born, both Dean and Cas talked to him incessantly, reading
him their favorite book by memory and pointing out the pictures and colors and
shapes to him, not caring when he fell asleep on their laps, four legs pressed
close together supporting his chubby weight.
At their first meeting with Dean and Cas's kindergarten teacher, the young
woman suggested that John and Mary help them be more independent. After ten
minutes of explanation and argument, they managed to convince her that there
was nothing wrong with their sons, and that it was perfectly healthy and wasn't
hindering them at all. Ms. Barnes looked at them skeptically for the entire
thing, but she finally promised not to ask for one of them to be transferred
out of her class. 
Miss Mosely, their first grade teacher, was much more understanding. She let
them sit next to each other in class, turn in one sheet of homework with both
their messy handwriting on it, and throw glitter on each other during arts and
crafts. At the parent-teacher conference, she looked over at Dean and Cas,
playing with the plastic dinosaurs in a corner of the classroom, chubby fingers
locked together, and told Mary that her sons had something special between
them, something beautiful.
Mary believed her. 
By the time they were ten, everybody in Lawrence knew that Dean and Cas
Winchester were something special. No one talked about Dean or Castiel, they
always talked about Dean-and-Cas. 
"How are Dean and Cas today, Mrs. Winchester?"
"Are Dean and Cas trying out for the soccer team this year, John?" 
The one time John and Mary had tried to get the boys to sleep in separate
bedrooms, it hadn't gone well. John woke up in the middle of the night to the
sounds of crying from down the hall, and had crept to Cas's room and peeked
through the open door. 
Dean was wrapped around his brother, crying into his shoulder. Cas clung just
as tightly to him, petting Dean's hair and whispering into his ear. 
"I couldn't sleep," Dean sobbed, pressing even closer, if possible, to Castiel.
"An' then I had a bad dream an' you weren't there an' I thought you left me all
alone an' I got scared."
When John got back to his bedroom, Mary was sitting up and rubbing her eyes
blearily. 
"Is everything okay?" She asked. 
"We're giving Sammy Dean's room," John answered, and that was the end of that.
As the boys grew older, it became easier to tell them apart. Dean had his
mother's light hair and freckles, and Cas took more after John, with tanned
skin, dark hair, and vibrant blue eyes that no one really knew how to say no
to. By the time they were thirteen, Dean was almost 5'9" and Cas was just a few
inches shorter, even though he was older. They were still inseparable, and by
then everyone had given up on trying to change that. 
In high school, nothing changed. They had different classes, but they had the
same friends and stuck to each other during free periods like they’d been
superglued together. Cas tried out for cross country in freshman year and made
varsity, and Dean joined the wrestling team. People expected them to drift
apart, or at least become less dependent on each other, but they remained as
close as ever.
When Cas got roofied at a party in freshman year, Dean was there. When Dean was
having a sexuality crisis, Cas was there and helped him figure it out. They
came out to their parents together, Cas as gay and Dean as bisexual. They got
stoned together for the first time when they were fifteen, and even though they
rarely indulged, it was always together.
Some people asked them how it was that they never fought. 
“Oh, we do,” Dean always answered. “Cas just never lets us stay angry for
long.” 
Everything between them was as perfect as it could possibly be. Until junior
year.
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
“Lisa broke up with me,” Dean announces, ignoring traditional greetings as he
flings open the door and stumbles face first onto their bed. Cas hardly looks
up from his laptop, his lips quirking up as Dean crawls forward and presses
them close together.
“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” he says, tapping away at the keyboard.
“You just did. Is that the English essay?” Dean rests his head on Cas's
shoulder, absently kicking off his shoes and flinging them away. Cas murmurs
his assent, frowning as he goes back a paragraph and adds a few sentences. “You
know that’s not due till next month, right? I mean, she probably doesn’t even
think anyone’s read the book yet.”
“I know for a fact that you finished the book andthe essay three days ago at
two in the morning, Dean, so don’t you dare say anything about me being an
overachiever.”
“Fine,” Dean huffs. “Which topic did you choose?”
“A character analysis of Penelope. You?"
"Comparison of the different gods that made an appearance. It wasn't that hard,
but it was interesting."
"Are you going to stop pouting and tell me why Lisa broke up with you?" Cas
asks, still not looking up from his laptop screen. Dean huffs a laugh and
burrows his head into the nape of his brother's neck. 
"Who says I'm pouting?" 
"Mom made apple pie and you haven't noticed yet," Cas points out smugly,
laughing when Dean perks up and sniffs the air. Sure enough, the rich smell of
cinnamon still lingers in the air, wafting up from the first floor of the
house. Cas grabs Dean's wrist before he can leap off the bed. "She also said
that you're not allowed to have any until after dinner."
Dean scowls at him before reluctantly settling back down. Cas shuts his laptop
and places it on the nightstand, letting Dean lean against his chest and
wrapping his arms around him. Dean tilts his head back against his brother's
chest, letting himself relax into the loose hold. 
They've had this casual intimacy since they were in diapers, and they never
grew out of it. Dean and Cas wake up tangled together every morning, and nine
times out of ten if they're both home they're piled into a single armchair
fighting viciously over Doctor Sexy and his various romantic conquests, or
they're lying in bed, half on top of each other, doing various things on their
respective laptops. The rare times Cas manages to rope Dean into a serious
conversation, they happen on their bed, one of them cradling the other back to
chest. 
"Why did she break up with you?" Cas asks gently, his breath ruffling Dean's
hair. He doesn't push while Dean gathers himself, waiting for the inevitable
answer to his question. 
"She told me I wasn't trying hard enough." It's all he needs to say. Cas
immediately understands. He's known Dean his whole life, and he knows that the
last thing anyone could accuse him of in any sort of relationship is not
putting in effort. He tightens his hold on his brother nearly imperceptibly,
and Dean gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. 
"She was very nice about it. She waited until after we paid for lunch, then she
told me that I didn't have to drive her home and that we were done. Her brother
came by a few minutes later to pick her up, and that was that." Cas doesn't say
anything; he knows Dean doesn't want him to. This is what happened after Dean
broke up with Aaron Bass, after the first time Crowley stopped talking to Cas,
after Daphne, who had appreciated the fact that Cas was trying to not be gay
but eventually got sick of it. 
"It's not like I expected it to be a long term thing, I guess, but still. She
wanted it to be, and I guess she figured out that I couldn't give that to her."
"Dean, you gave Lisa all that you could. You both knew it wouldn't work out,
but you have every right to be upset," Cas soothes, his fingers playing along
the hem of Dean's sleeve. This is how the two of them work, easy conversation
and no secrets.
“I guess. Still feel like shit though.”
“You weren’t leading her on, Dean. Both of you knew what the other wanted, and
you decided to try it anyway.” Dean falls silent, tipping his head back to
relax more fully into his older brother. Cas smiles, bringing one of his hands
up to tangle in Dean’s hair. Dean sighs.
“Thanks, Cas.”
“Of course. If it makes you feel any better, Fergus still isn’t talking to me.”
Dean laughs a little bit, eyes still shut.
“What did you do this time?” He asks. Fergus Crowley is Cas's on-again off-
again boyfriend/fuckbuddy, and they alternate between spending every other
night at Crowley’s house and hating each other with a bitter passion that
rivals the intensity of Dean’s hatred of the football captain, Alastair
Masters.
“He wanted me to get high with him, and he still hasn’t quite gotten the fact
that I want nothing to do with all of that.”
“Good,” Dean says sharply. “He’s a dick. How long has it even been since he
talked to you? A month?”
“Two.”
“Why do you even stay with him, Cas? You have to know that at lease half of the
school’s resident population wants a piece of your ass.”
“Well, for one, he gives amazing head,” Cas says thoughtfully, before he gets a
sharp elbow in between his ribs. He struggles for breath even through his
laughter, and soon Dean joins him. As soon as he gets his wind back, Cas
attacks, flipping over and pinning Dean to the bed as he attacks his ribs with
tickles.
Dean bellows and tries to buck him off, but Cas stays firm, keeping his
brother’s wrists pinned to the bed with one hand as he makes him scream with
laughter with the other. Pretty soon though, Dean flips them, shoving up Cas's
shirt and trying to find that one spot on his left side that makes him beg for
mercy.
As soon as Dean finds it, Cas is screaming, twisting in his brother’s hold and
begging Dean to stop. “What’s the magic word, Cas?”
“Please! Ple—Dean!” Cas manages to shout. Dean just grins down at him, stopping
his attack briefly.
“Who’s the more attractive twin?” He asks. Cas glares up at him, fighting a
smile.
“Well, I don’t know if I’ve seen a mirror lately, but I’m pretty sure it’s
still me,” he says. Dean narrows his eyes, moving back in, but Cas manages to
get a leg between him and Dean and pushes up, throwing Dean to the other side
of the bed.
In seconds, a full-on wrestling match is going on. Dean is the first one to
pick up a pillow, but soon they’ve both got one in their hand, beating each
other between rounds. They’re interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, and they
both freeze in place.
“Dinner’s going to be ready in a few minutes, boys, and when I come up to bed
later your room better be spotless!” Mary calls from the hallway. Dean, still
motionless on the edge of the bed, starts to teeter and fall, and he tumbles to
the floor with a loud thud. Cas bursts into laughter, and barely has enough
presence of mind to call an affirmation to their mother before Dean is on him
again, getting him in a headlock and rubbing the top of his scalp vigorously
with his knuckles.
When they come down for dinner that night, their hair is a mess and both of
them are rubbing resentfully at various bruises on their arms and torsos. It’s
worth it, though, to Cas. Dean seems to have forgotten about Lisa for the time
being, and as he and Sam bicker over dinner that night, Dean has a contented
smile on his face, like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
Cas wakes up slowly the next morning. The room is shrouded in darkness, the
curtains still pulled closed. Dean’s warmth is solid and comforting against his
back, his arms wrapped around Cas in a reassuring embrace. Cas is about to slip
back into sleep for another few hours before he realizes what woke him up.
There’s something poking him in the back.
It’s not the first time this has happened, of course. Far from it. Cas has
woken up with Dean’s morning wood pressed into some part of him more often than
he can count, but Dean’s always woken within a few seconds and rushed off to
the bathroom. It had ceased being awkward after the first few times, and now
whenever Dean or Cas got hard during the night, they treat it as an
inevitability of two teenage boys sleeping in the same bed.
Today, Cas doesn’t rush out of bed or kick Dean out to make him masturbate in
the shower. He just lays there, Dean’s arm around his waist and his cock
pressed up against the line of his ass. Neither of them are wearing shirts,
just the loose flannel pants that they’ve had since forever that they never
seem to grow out of. 
After a few moments of Cas lying there, too stiff and uncomfortable for him to
go back to sleep, Dean shifts. His arm tightens around Cas, drawing him closer
and grinding his erection into Cas's ass. Dean makes a small noise against the
nape of Cas's neck and suddenly Cas is all to aware of his own half hard cock.
The rational part of Cas's mind is telling him that this is sick, that it’s
wrong, and that he should get up now and take a cold shower and forget this
just like he’s forgotten every other time he came in the shower with Dean’s
name on his lips. The fluttering in his stomach and the throbbing in his groin,
however, urge him to stay. 
Dean makes the decision for him. His open mouth presses against Cas's neck,
breath hot and heavy and sending shivers down his spine. Dean’s hips keep
thrusting, his clothed cock sliding in between Cas's cheeks and shooting sparks
to his cock. Cas can’t hold back his groan as he presses the heel of his palm
to his cock and shoves his hips back, relishing the thick moan it earns him.
Every part of Cas's mind is screaming at him, telling him that he’s sick and
that this is disgusting and wrong but he can’t stop pushing back against Dean’s
cock and moaning like a whore for something he knows will land him an express
ticket to Hell.
It doesn’t take Cas long to come all over his hand, staining the front of his
pants as he does so. Dean’s still rutting against him, subconsciously pulling
Cas into him until he comes too with a low groan, warm wetness spreading across
Cas's backside. There’s a moment of perfect stillness, no noise in the dark
room, and then Dean shifts.
“Cas…” It’s a whisper, almost a moan, but it confirms Cas's worst fear. Dean’s
awake. Cas tries to pull away before Dean can shove him, but the movement seems
to wake Dean further.
“Cas?” Cas is frozen in place, pressed up against his brother, come rapidly
cooling in both their pants. Dean calls his name again, softer, his voice
roughened by sleep and pleasure. “Cas, what’s going on?”
And because Cas is just that stupid, he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t tell Dean that
he just woke up, that he was about to go shower, or any of the possible things
he could say to get himself out of this. Hell, he doesn’t even pretend to still
be asleep. Instead, he says the stupidest thing possible in this situation.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” Dean sits up, and Cas can feel him wince when he feels the stickiness
in his pants. “What happened?”
There’s no way Cas can explain this without coming off as a pervert. Dean’s
going to end up moving out of their room and hating Cas and nothing is going to
be the same all because he couldn’t ignore his stupid, disgusting fantasies
about his little brother. 
“I’m sorry, Dean, I should’ve woken you up, or gotten out of bed,” Cas starts,
pulling away. Before he can continue, Dean’s hand is around his wrist and he’s
being tugged back onto their memory foam mattress.
“Cas,” Dean says again, softer this time. He’s staring at Cas in the dim light
of their bedroom, the pale light dreaming in from behind the curtains
indicating that it’s well before sunrise. Dean’s hands reach up to cup his
face, and Cas wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrists because this is the last
thing he deserves right now, but he doesn’t pull away. Dean leans in, pressing
their foreheads close together. When he speaks, it’s in a low whisper.
“Cas, did I hurt you?” This is the last thing Cas expects to hear. Dean’s
thumbs brush wetness off his cheeks, and it’s only then that he realizes that
he’s crying. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Dean.
“No, you didn’t—you didn’t hurt me,” he manages to choke out. He wants to savor
this, savor the last time he might be this close to Dean.
“Are you sure?” Dean asks, his breath warming Cas's lips. Cas lets his eyes
flutter shut, and Dean’s thumbs trace almost reverently over his eyelids.
“Yes. I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable sharing a bed with me, but I promise
it won’t happen again,” Cas says, his voice cracking in the middle of the
sentence.
“What are you talking about?” Dean asks, confusion clear in his voice even if
Cas can’t see his eyes. “I was the one who was grinding on you in my sleep.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, everything makes sense. Dean doesn’t know what happened. He
doesn’t know that Cas got off on it, that Cas encouragedhim. He can still save
this. Dean doesn’t have to know. “No, it’s—it’s fine.”
“It’s not, Cas. If you have to move out, or get your own bed, I totally get it.
After what you heard…” Dean still doesn’t move to pull away, his hands still
cupping Cas's face, Cas keeping his loose hold on Dean’s wrists, and it seems
like neither of them wants to let go.
“I don’t understand.” It’s true. Cas has completely lost track of the
conversation, and it doesn’t seem like Dean has any more of an idea of what
they’re talking about than Cas does. “What do you mean?”
Dean hesitates, his fingers fluttering against Cas's cheeks, before he sighs,
the warm air drifting over Cas's lips. “I was holding you, and I was dreaming,
and I got carried away. I’m sorry I said your name, Cas. It’s disgusting and
wrong and I’m sorry, but it won’t happen again, I promise. I promise.”
Cas can’t breathe. There’s no way Dean could be saying what he thinks he’s
saying. There’s no way Dean could want him too. But here they are, sitting on
the bed they’ve shared since they were two, their pants a cool, sticky,
uncomfortable mess, and Dean is confessing that he was having a wet dream about
Cas.
“Dean,” he breathes, barely daring to say it, eyes opening slowly enough to
convince himself that this could have all been a dream. “I’m going to do
something. You can hit me, you can do anything to me after, I promise, but I
need to—I need to.”
“Cas, what—?” Dean starts to say. Whatever the sentence may have become is
swallowed the second Cas's lips touch his.
It barely counts as a kiss, really. Just a gentle brush of lips, with barely
any pressure, but it’s enough for Dean. The grip on Cas's face becomes tighter,
and Dean drags him closer, crushing their mouths together with an urgency that
sends the silence of the last few minutes out the window.
“Is this okay?” Dean murmurs between frantic kisses, his hands running down
Cas's bare back. Cas, for his part, flings his arms around Dean’s neck and
pulls him in again for an open mouthed kiss, their tongues twisting together as
they both struggle for breath.
“God, yes,” Cas manages to gasp before Dean’s flinging him down on the already
sweaty sheets, straddling his hips and fucking rolling himself down on top of
Cas's cock and jesus christ how are they both hard again.Dean’s hands find
Cas's wrists, wrenching them up and pinning him to the bed.
“Do you know,” Dean growls, grinding their covered cocks together. “How often
I’ve thought about this?”
“Please,” is all Cas can say, thrusting up in time with Dean’s motions. There’s
no way he could already be this close, not after he’s already come once
tonight, but he’s straining in his pants and Dean doesn’t seem to be faring
much better. “Dean, please.”
“Yeah, Cas, I know,” Dean’s voice is thick and dark, filled with something that
sounds like promise. “I’ll take care of you, big brother.”
It’s all Cas can do to keep his moan at a volume that won’t wake their parents
down the hall. Dean grins, and leans down so that their foreheads are touching
again, most of Dean’s weight centered on Cas's hips.
“You like that, Cas? You like it when your little brother pins you down and
makes you moan?” Cas is incapable of answering, his entire wold focused on the
feeling of Dean’s cock rubbing against his and the sound of Dean’s voice,
filthy and dark in his ear. He whines, low in his throat, and Dean chuckles,
thrusting his hips eagerly. “Maybe next time I’ll tie you down, Cas, huh? Tie
you ass up on our bed and fuck you till you scream for me. Is that what you
want, big brother?”
Cas could say he doesn’t know what tips him over the edge, but that would be a
lie. The picture Dean’s painting, of him face down on their bed with Dean
buried inside of him, is just too much and he comes with a groan that’s muffled
by Dean’s lips. It’s probably the best orgasm of his life and it leaves Cas
shaking.
“Fuck,” Dean gasps out, locking their lips together before grinding down once,
twice, three times. He gives a full body shiver before collapsing on top of
Cas, letting go of his wrists and rolling to the side.
Cas is still panting, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. The
entire thing is giving him a headache just to think about, and his thoughts are
still scattered from his orgasm. Dean hums a little bit, slipping his hands
around Cas's waist and nuzzling into his neck.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he rumbles, loosely pressing his lips against the
juncture where Cas's neck meets his shoulder.
“We’re going to talk about this,” Cas promises. Dean sighs but nods his
agreement, before wiggling slightly in an attempt to get comfortable. Cas shuts
his eyes, trying to go back to sleep in some vague effort to convince himself
that this never happened.
“Okay, this fucking sucks,” Dean finally says, sitting up abruptly and jostling
Cas, who had just started to drift off himself.
“Wha…?” Cas asks groggily, earning a snort of amusement from Dean.
“I have two loads drying in my pants right now, so don't mind if I change
really quick.” He shuffles over to the dresser and grabs two pairs of boxers,
tossing one at Cas before quickly stripping out of his own pants and wiping
himself down with one of the dry spots. Cas follows suit, perching on one edge
of the bed while he cleans himself up. Dean throws the sheet, abandoned at the
bottom of the bed, over the wet spot and clambers back up on the mattress,
holding his arms out for Cas as he does.
“C’mon, Cas, we’ve got hours before we need to be up. Break started yesterday
anyway, it’s not like we have to do anything for the next week.”
“Fine. But if anyone walks in tomorrow morning I’m telling them that you pissed
the bed,” Cas grumbles, settling in against Dean’s chest in the exact position
they’d woken up in an hour ago. Dean laughs and kisses his shoulder, pulling up
the blankets and wrapping his arms around Cas yet again. 
“Deal.”
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
Cas expects something to change. He thinks maybe everything between him and
Dean will become awkward all of a sudden, like they'll be afraid to look each
other in the eyes for a few days. Instead, they head down to Sunday morning
breakfast just like they always do, throwing on shirts and lounge pants and
trying to make each other trip down the stairs just like they always do. Cas
tells Mary about their week, just like he always does, and Dean tries to
wheedle John into giving him the Impala just like he always does. Sam throws
bits of scrambled egg at Dean when he teases him about his not-quite-girlfriend
Jess, and everything is okay.
It’s Spring Break, and Sam is going away to some genius math camp for the rest
of the week, and John and Mary have booked a couple’s retreat for the first
time since Dean and Cas were born, so they help Sam pack up and kiss their
parents goodbye and wait for Sam’s bus to come and ruffle his hair before he
runs to meet his friends.
It’s almost like every other Sunday Cas can remember having. Dean changes the
sheets while Cas boils pasta for lunch, and when they finish eating they curl
up in bed with their laptops and play various video games. Cas almost thinks
that they’re never going to talk about last night until Dean heaves a sigh and
slams his laptop closed with more force than probably necessary.
“Look, Cas. About last night.” It’s the worst, most cliché start to any
conversation and Cas winces as soon as Dean says it. He doesn’t interrupt,
though, and he waits for Dean to continue. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t
happen. We both were into it, and even if it doesn’t happen again, we don’t
have to ignore it to keep going on like we did before.”
Cas takes a minute to gather himself, Dean’s words sinking in slowly. He
doesn’t know what he expected: revulsion, maybe, or a simple statement that
enforced his belief that it was a mistake on both of their parts, that it would
never happen again. “That was…surprisingly mature.”
Dean snorts before punching Cas solidly on the arm. He refrains himself from
retaliating, knowing that if he does it will end in another wrestling match.
“That being said…would you be opposed to a repeat performance?”
Dean stills next to him, and Cas barely dares to look over at him. As it turns
out, though, he doesn’t have to, because a split second later Dean is gripping
him by the jaw and pulling him into a kiss hard enough to bruise his lips. The
single action is enough to leave Cas panting into his brother’s mouth, and as
Dean withdraws his eyes flutter shut. Absently, Cas's fingers trail over his
lips, slick with Dean’s spit.
“I think I’d like as many repeat performances as you’re willing to give me,”
Dean murmurs, gently prying Cas's laptop out of his hand and placing both of
them on the nightstand. As soon as he does, Cas climbs onto Dean’s lap, fisting
his Metallica shirt in both hands and dragging him into another kiss. Dean
smiles against his lips, his hands settling lightly on Cas's hips. It’s enough
incentive to make Cas grind down, earning himself a pleased gasp from his
brother’s lips.
“I never thought you’d want this,” Dean says quietly. Cas's eyes peek open,
seeing the raw honesty that Dean’s conveying.
“How long?” Cas asks, his breath mingling with Dean’s. They aren’t desperate
yet, reveling in this simple closeness.
“Eighth grade,” Dean replies. Cas laughs, and when he smiles Dean catches his
lower lip in between his teeth, earning a groan from Cas. “You?”
“Since I really knew how to want anyone,” Cas admits. He’s never let himself
acknowledge it, but it’s always been Dean. Ever since he can remember, it’s
been Dean.
“You wanna know how I knew you were gay?” Dean says, changing the subject
abruptly. When Cas had come out to him, shaking and crying in the fourth grade,
sobbing into his shoulder that he liked boys, Dean had hugged him close and
told him that he knew. Cas never asked how, but now Dean’s offering to tell
him.
“How?” He asks, a little teasingly. Dean grins and bumps their noses together,
nudging Cas's head to the side so he can trail kisses down his neck. It almost
scares Cas how natural this whole thing feels, but then he remembers that
they’ve always been this close, always been borderline too intimate, and this
is less of a giant leap for them and more just a few short steps away from
where they’ve always been.
“Whenever we watched Doctor Sexy, you always asked me why why he kissed all the
lady doctors but never kissed any of the guy ones. And then one day Dad was
reading something out loud from the paper about marriage equality and you got
really quiet. And then after that you never asked me again.” Dean murmurs this
to his collarbone, pressing kisses to Cas's skin.
“I forgot about that,” Cas says into Dean’s hair. Dean’s fingers dip below the
hem of Cas's shirt and start rubbing gentle circles into his tailbone. “How did
you know you were bi?”
Dean chuckles, the vibrations soothing and familiar. “I saw you getting out of
the shower, and you’d forgotten a towel, and I wanted to lick every single drop
of water off your skin.” As he finishes the sentence, Dean’s tongue drags over
Cas's neck, laving at the hollow of Cas's throat and sending shivers down his
spine. 
“Next time I take a shower, feel free,” Cas gasps, his fingers tangling in
Dean’s hair as Dean’s tongue dips lower. Dean shoves up his shirt, Cas lifting
his hands to help as Dean strips it off him before leaning back momentarily to
take off his own. He returns to kissing Cas's chest, fingers trailing over his
ribs as Cas plays with his hair, scratching his scalp and tugging randomly on
the thick strands. Dean’s tongue brushes over Cas's nipple and he sits up
straight on his brother’s lap with a small, guttural cry. Dean grins up at him,
dark and predatory, and the look shoots a thrill down Cas's spine and straight
to his cock.
“Sensitive?” Dean asks, glancing up to meet Cas's gaze his eyes dark with lust.
Cas manages a noise of assent before Dean’s tongue laves at his nipple and his
head tips back in pleasure. He fists his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling hard
and making Dean groan. The sensation only fuels Cas's arousal and he grinds
down on his brother’s lap, feeling the almost familiar sensation of their
erections grinding against each other.
“God, Dean,” he groans as Dean moves to his other nipple, his fingers coming up
to tweak the one he left behind. Cas had no idea his chest was this sensitive,
but whatever Dean’s doing feels amazing, a strange combination of pain and
pleasure driving him out of his mind with a need he’s never felt before. “I
want—”
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Dean asks, taking one of Cas's nubs in each
hand and rollingthem, causing Cas to throw back his head again and gasp in
pleasure. “C’mon, Cas, you gotta tell me. Do you want me to blow you? Fuck
you?”
“Fuck me,” Cas groans wantonly, not caring how needy he sounds. Imagining Dean
spreading him open and fucking him is almost too much and he rolls his hips
desperately, needing some kind of relief. Dean stops him though, moving his
hands from Cas's nipples to his hips and holding him solidly in place.
“You want me to fuck you? Want me to fill you up with my come and then lick it
out of you, make you eat my come straight from my mouth?” Cas moans long and
loud at that, tugging on Dean’s hair hard enough for it to hurt.
“Please, please, Dean,” he begs, hardly coherent enough to string the words
together. “I need it, need you—”
“I know, baby,” Dean reassures him, pulling Cas off his lap and laying him down
flat on the bed. He crawls on top of Cas, a parody of their position last
night, and peppers his mouth with kisses. No matter how desperately Cas arches
up, though, he still won’t let their cocks touch. “I know what you need. You
try and act like some sweet, innocent thing, but I know the truth, Cas. I know
how much you need cock. You’re so damn eager for it, I bet if I let you go
right now you’d flip us over and ride me into next week.”
Cas nods frantically, humiliated but hopelessly turned on as he tries to reach
Dean’s mouth again. Dean gives him one long, lingering kiss before pulling away
again. The noise Cas makes when he does is pathetic, but it only seems to turn
Dean on more.
“You’re such a slut, Cas,” Dean taunts, dragging his tongue down Cas's chest
and pressing his hips down when they buck up. Cas writhes under him, the words
going straight to his cock and clouding out all semblance of rational thought.
"Just a dirty little cockslut, aren't you?"
Cas tries to answer, but then Dean's fingers travel to his waistband and tug
down his pants and boxers just enough to expose the red tip of his cock. Cas
gasps at the shock of cold air and tries yet again to get some form of
friction, anything, but Dean just keeps holding him down and smirking. 
"Answer me, Cas. Aren't you just a dirty little cockslut? Wouldn't you do
anything right now to get me inside of you? Come on, bitch," Dean growls, his
voice deep and thick and driving  Cas absolutely insane."Answer me."
"Yes!" Cas shouts, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Dean's scalp.
Right now, he would do anything, he’d beg and plead on his hands and knees if
that’s what Dean wanted—if it would get him some sort of relief. 
“Yes what, Cas?” Dean taunts, his mouth inches away from Cas's cock. The draft
of hot air whenever Dean breathes is torture, reminding Cas exactly how hard
and desperate he is.
“Yes, I’m a dirty little cockslut!” Cas cries, shame long gone. “I’m your
bitch, please, Dean, it hurts!”
“I know sweetheart,” Dean soothes, his head dipping and his lips hovering a
fraction of an inch above Cas's cock. “You’re so good for me baby, I think you
deserve a reward.”
Cas sobs when Dean takes the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth.
Cas has gotten blow jobs before, of course, but none of them were tinged with
this edge of desperation and need. Dean blows him like he’s starving for it,
quickly divesting Cas of his pants altogether and swallowing him down in one
quick, hungry movement.
With Dean kneeling on the bed in front of him, Cas is sure he’s in Nirvana.
Dean’s mouth is tight and warm and Cas distantly realizes that he's tugging on
Dean's hair harder than should be comfortable. He can't bring himself to care
though, not when it feels so good and Dean is obviously having the time of his
life. 
It takes Cas an embarrassingly short time to be on the brink of orgasm, but as
soon as he feels it threatening, a huge buildup of overwhelming pleasure, he
tugs Dean off him. Dean goes reluctantly, pressing brief kisses to Cas's thighs
before he looks up. 
"Want something, Cas?" Dean's voice is raw but happy, and he can't quite get
the cocky tone he'd had earlier back. Cas can't stop himself from smiling
ridiculously at his brother. Dean smiles back, as easy as breathing. 
"Fuck me," Cas says before Dean crawls back over him and plants a long,
lingering kiss on his lips.
"You sure?" He asks, concern creasing his brow despite his earlier bravado. 
"I'm not some blushing virgin, Dean. I know what I want." This doesn't seem to
reassure Dean, because he draws Cas's bottom lip in between his teeth and
kisses him again, roughly and possessively. His hands plant themselves back on
Cas's hips, pushing him down into the mattress. 
"Dean," Cas manages to say as Dean claims his mouth almost violently. "Please."
“Fuck,” Dean breathes. He’s looking at Cas like he’s the most beautiful thing
he’s ever seen and it takes Cas's breath away. “Fuck, okay.”
Dean clambers off of Cas and collapses awkwardly on the other side of the bed,
causing Cas to giggle even as he’s trying to catch his breath. He flushes and
scrambles in Cas's bedside drawer for the lube that both of them know is in
there.
“Why are you using my stuff?” Cas complains. Dean holds up the bottle with a
wink and a cheerful grin before tossing it onto the sheets next to his brother.
“Yours is cherry flavored and I’m almost out anyway.” 
“Fine. Condom?” He doesn’t really want one, but he doesn’t know the last time
Dean got tested and even though he’s clean he doesn’t want to take the risk if
Dean isn’t sure.
“I’m clean. I got tested a few weeks ago, and I haven't done anything since
then,” Dean replies hopefully. Cas nods his acquiescence, and Dean drops the
small packet back inside the drawer, shifting something aside and looking at it
appraisingly. Cas huffs in irritation, then, when he remembers exactly what he
keeps in that drawer scrambles to pull Dean back to the bed when he starts
digging through it again. “Damn, Cas, where did you get this shit?”
“Dean—“ Cas is cut off, his face flaming red in mortification, by Dean holding
up the one toy he’s never going to live down.
“Do I even want to know?” Dean asks, but there’s something in his voice that
tells Cas that maybe he’s not quite as horrified as he’s pretending to be.
“There’s an online store I like,” Cas admits, his face burning and his voice
faltering. Dean chuckles and shuts the drawer, dropping the fake tentacle
inside as he does. Cas groans and rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face
in the pillow and trying to ignore the sudden image of Dean with a camera in
his hand recording him as Cas fucks himself on it. He doesn’t succeed.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean says gently. “I mean, I’m into some kinky shit too.”
This pulls a laugh from Cas and he finally raises his head just in time to see
Dean push his pants and boxers to the ground. He’s seen his brother naked
before, but only now is he allowed to truly appreciate the extent of Dean’s
beauty. His powerful biceps; the rippling of muscle in his abdomen; his thick,
tanned thighs.
“What are you staring at?” Cas just grins, lazily fisting his spit-slick cock
as Dean clambers back on the bed. Their lips meet in a kiss, all the rushed
intensity from earlier bleeding away. Dean finally breaks away, his hands
groping in the tangled sheets to find the discarded lube.
“How do you want me?” Cas asks, winking extravagantly. Dean grins and nudges at
his hips, prompting Cas to roll onto his back.
“I want to see you,” Dean replies, voice rough and honest. He leans down to
plant one more kiss on Cas's  lips before crawling down the bed and pushing
Cas's knees up against his chest.
Cas knows he should feel uncomfortable, with the most intimate part of his body
shown by the obscene spread of his legs, but he doesn’t. He trusts Dean
completely, with every part of himself. He looks down at his younger brother
kneeling between his things and he lets himself relax into the bed. There’s no
urgency between them now, just the click of the lube bottle and the wet sound
of the liquid spreading across Dean’s fingers.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” Dean murmurs, pressing a reverent kiss to the back
of Cas's thigh. He doesn’t plan on telling Dean to stop anytime soon though;
there’s no way they can do this without a little bit of pain.
“Of course.” Dean’s dry hand strokes his cock almost affectionately before his
fingers, slick with lube, start nudging against Castiel’s hole. He barely holds
in a moan when the tip of Dean’s index finger dips inside him, not enough to be
uncomfortable and just enough to be pleasurable.
“You’re beautiful,” Dean says, his voice as close to reverent as Cas has ever
heard it. The words send a slow flush down his chest and he looks away, a wave
of emotion building in his chest. When he glances back down, Dean’s cheeks are
pink, but they’re both distracted when Dean finally slides his index finger
deep inside the clenching heat of Castiel’s hole.
Cas gasps, his knees jerking against his chest. He’s done this to himself
dozens of times, Crowley has done it for him almost as often, and yet prep has
never felt like this before. It’s always been a means to an end, but with Dean
he feels like he could stay like this forever and never need anything else.
“Are you okay?” Dean asks, starting to withdraw his finger.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Cas says through clenched teeth, pushing himself backwards
to try and get more. Dean obliges carefully, gently moving his finger until he
brushes Cas's prostate, making him gasp and arch on the bed, legs falling
around Dean’s shoulders. Dean makes a strangled noise in his throat, and then
his middle finger is nudging at Cas's hole. 
“You like that?” Dean’s voice is regaining some of it’s swagger, and Cas might
be annoyed if it wasn’t so fucking hot. The burn of the second finger going in
is welcome, and the pleasure when they rub over his prostate is even more so.
“Yes,” Cas grits out, his hands fisting in the sheets. Dean scissors his
fingers, and Cas throws his head back against the pillows to stop himself from
crushing Dean’s head with his thighs. “Dean, please.”
“I love it when you beg,” Dean says idly, languidly fucking his fingers into
Cas, and it’s everything he wants but nothing he needs. “I love it when you beg
your little brother to do these things to you. You’ve been teasing me for
years, haven’t you, Cas? Prancing around the house in nothing but those skimpy
little shorts, it’s like you wanted me to bend you in half and take what’s
mine.”
“Oh god, Dean, please,” Cas moans, all his resistance gone as Dean’s fingers
pick up their pace, jabbing relentlessly at his prostate until he’s squirming,
pushing back and trying to get away because it’s too much and not nearly enough
at the same time and Dean’s words are rapidly becoming the only things he can
think of. “Please, I’m yours, just do it, fuck me—”
“Calm down, angel,” Dean coaxes, massaging Cas’s prostate and sending a slow
roll of pleasure down his spine. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry.”
At this point, Cas is beyond worry, Dean’s words and touch stripping him away
until there’s nothing left of him but instinct and need and endless variations
of the same desperate plea.
The third finger burns in the best way possible. Cas must give something away,
because Dean shuffles forward and wraps his lips around the head of Cas’s cock.
The pain quickly ebbs away, and soon enough it’s all Cas can do to keep himself
from beating his feet against Dean’s back to encourage him. As it is, his hands
are tangled in his brother’s hair and he’s shoving himself in two different
directions: down onto Dean’s fingers and then back up, bucking into the suction
of his mouth. It’s driving Castiel insane and he’s barely paying attention to
the filthy words that are falling out of his mouth and into the quiet room.
“Please, Dean, no more, I’m going to come, Dean, please!” Cas’s mind is whiting
out with pleasure, and the sound he makes when Dean suddenly withdraws is
embarrassingly close to a whimper. He’s so empty, and he’s pulled back from the
precipice of orgasm as quickly as he’d approached it. Dean is still crouching
between his thighs, his eyes hooded and fingers fumbling for the lube bottle.
He slicks himself up quickly, then nudges Cas’s legs a little further apart and
crawls up the length of Cas’s body until their foreheads are pressed together.
“You ready?” The words are gentle even though Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Cas’s
hands slide up his brother’s torso and grip his shoulders.
“Please,” is all he says, and it’s enough for Dean. He reaches down and takes
himself in hand, and Cas has to fight himself in order to stay relaxed as the
tip if Dean’s cock presses against his fluttering hole. And then Dean is
pushing in and Cas’s fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders and all he
can focus on is how full he is and the awful brush of Dean’s cock against his
prostate as Dean bottoms out in one slow, smooth thrust.
The groan that leaves Cas’s lips is completely involuntary, but Dean doesn’t
seem to mind. His lips are pressed against the space below Cas’s ear and he
mouths at the skin gently. Cas almost jumps out of his skin when Dean nips, but
the flare of pain goes straight to his cock and it blurts out a drop of pre
come onto the smooth jut of Dean’s hipbone. It reminds him that he’s still
painfully on edge and, more importantly, that Dean is still fully seated inside
him and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of moving.
“Move,” Cas tries to growl, but the effect is ruined when Dean nips at his jaw
again and his voice breaks in the middle of the word. Dean presses tiny kisses
across his cheek and then plants a firm one on Cas’s lips, tongue brushing
Cas’s lips but not quite dipping into his mouth. Cas can taste himself on
Dean’s lips and it’s intoxicating but it also reminds him that he’d better be
getting his mouth on Dean’s cock in the next day or he’s going to tie Dean down
and take what he wants.
“What was that, sweetheart?” Dean rumbles against Cas’s lips. “I didn’t quite
catch that.”
“Fuck me, you asshole,” Cas bites, trying to roll his hips down. Dean frowns
against his lips and grabs Cas’s knees, forcing them back against his chest and
effectively restricting most of his movement.
“And what do we say, Cas, when we want something?” Cas would have never guessed
that Dean had such a mouth on him before today, but he finds that it turns him
on beyond belief, even as his skin glows with embarrassment. 
“Please fuck me, sir.” He throws the last word in as a joke, but as soon as he
says it Dean’s hips snap forward, driving Cas upwards on the bed with the force
of the thrust.
He barely has time to adjust before Dean is jackhammering into him, using his
grip on Cas’s legs to pull him back and fuck him harder. Dean’s cock is
lighting Castiel up from the inside out, and he clings desperately to Dean’s
skin as he holds on for his life, raking his nails up and down the freckled
skin of Dean’s back.
“Please, please, please, please,” the words is punched out of Cas over and over
again by Dean’s thrusts, and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for but he knows
that he needs whatever it is as much as, maybe more than he needs air. Dean’s
breaths puff over Cas’s neck as he burgs his face in the skin where Cas's neck
meets his shoulder, little gasps and moans that Cas strains to hear even over
the sounds of his own frenzied breathing.
“You’re so tight, Cas, god, you feel so good around me, baby. Never thought
it’d be like this, your slutty hole pulling me in, yeah, bet you need it real
bad, Cas, don’t you?” Dean seems to barely be conscious of what he’s saying but
the words go straight to Cas's dick where it lies, rubbing between their
stomachs with every thrust of Dean’s hips and sending little jolts of pleasure
through Cas.
He doesn’t know when his chants of please turned into Dean but his brother
takes it as encouragement, biting Cas’s neck and shoulder as he fucks into Cas
at a brutal pace. One of his hands lets go of Cas’s leg, and when it snakes
around Cas’s cock and starts pumping at the same rate as Dean’s hips, his head
falls back and Cas cries out. He’s so close, anything could send him over the
edge, but in the end it’s Dean’s words that do it. He pulls away and looks Cas
dead in the eyes, a challenge and a confession and a plea in his eyes.
“Yeah, slut. Come for me.”
It’s the most intense orgasm Castiel has ever had. It sweeps through him like a
tsunami, his whole body locking up and convulsing with pleasure. As his cock
spurts over Dean’s hand and his own stomach, Cas lets out a hoarse yell that’s
abruptly cut off by Dean’s other hand slapping across his mouth.
“Shh, slut. Don’t want the neighbors to hear.” Cas’s cock twitches at that, but
he hisses as the too-soon rush of pleasure along with the stimulation of Dean’s
cock inside him proves to be almost too much.
Dean’s thrusts have slowed and now he’s thrusting at a more languid pace,
actively avoiding the sensitive bud of Cas’s prostate as Dean works him through
the aftershocks of his orgasm, Cas’s hole tightening and flexing until Dean
stills, buried to the hilt inside him, and comes, his teeth latching onto Cas’s
shoulder and biting until Cas cries out again from behind his hand.
There’s a few moments of blissful silence, and then Dean flops down
ungracefully next to Cas, leaving him free to put his legs down and stretch
them out. There’s nothing compelling either of them to speak, to break the easy
silence, so Dean doesn’t say anything as he walks into their bathroom and
returns with a wet washcloth.
“I’ll clean you up,” he offers, and Cas rolls onto his stomach, parting his
legs slightly in invitation. Dean’s hands are gentle on his skin, wiping down
the the sweat on Cas's back and carefully wiping up the come that Castiel can
feel leaking from his hole. He’s never barebacked before, and he finds that he
likes the sensation, likes being filled by Dean even after they’ve both come.
“Thank you,” Cas murmurs when Dean’s done. He’s exhausted, so he doesn’t
protest when Dean drags the covers over them and pulls Cas closer. Dean is
warm, and sort of sweaty, but Cas nuzzles closer anyway, letting the
familiarity lull him into a half-awake daze.
“What now?” He whispers to himself. Dean’s thumb pauses where it’s been
brushing over his shoulder, and the even pattern of his breathing stills.
“Well,” Dean says softly, cautiously. “I was thinking we take a nap, get
something to eat, and then spend the rest of break making sure that you run as
bowlegged as me at your next track meet.”
Cas snorts a laugh into Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s always been good at breaking
tension between them, and he doesn’t know why he expected a serious answer.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Dean’s voice is hopeful and fragile, and Cas feels a rush of affection
he doesn’t hesitate to label as love.
“Yeah. Now let me get some sleep, asshole.”
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
So nothing changes. Dean and Cas stay Dean and Cas. They go to school and eat
lunch together, they tease each other mercilessly, and every once in a while
Dean drags Cas into a closet or an empty bathroom and fucks him through the
mess of come he’d left the night before. Cas effectively breaks up with
Crowley, and Dean stops dating altogether, much to the chagrin of everybody,
male or female, at Lawrence High.
Junior year ends and, too soon for both of their tastes, senior year begins.
They have less time for each other, but Cas still wakes up in his brother’s
arms every morning and Dean still finds time to cheer at every one of Cas’s
races.
They apply to all the same colleges, even though the guidance counselors and
their parents tell them that the odds of them making in into the same college
is astronomical. To neither of their surprise, Dean and Castiel both are
accepted into UC San Diego, their first choice.
The rest of the year flies by, and before he knows it Cas is standing in his
closet, trying to decide what he should pack for the plane ride to California.
Dean is pacing in the room behind him, alternating between throwing things in
his suitcase at random and taking them out again and putting them back in his
drawers.
“We should have done this days ago, Cas, we’re leaving tomorrow! What if I’m
not ready in time? Will I have to stay home? I mean, maybe I should, Sammy’s
starting high school in the fall and he might get picked on and we won’t be
here for him.” Dean is rambling, and Cas is trying his best to ignore it but
the words are getting under his skin and finally he can’t take it any more.
“Dean, please shut up,” he says tightly. Dean’s voice falters and he glances up
from where he’s been staring holes into his suitcase. “Sam’s going to be fine.
We’ll be ready for tomorrow. Just calm down.”
“Yeah, but—” Cas crosse the room before Dean can say anything else, covering
Dean’s lips with his own and taking both of his hands.
“Dean. Everything is going to be fine.” Dean doesn’t look convinced, but he
leans down to cover the inch between their heights and kisses Cas again.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against Cas’s lips. 
“You’re forgiven,” Cas replies.
“Oh shit,” Sam says from the doorway. 
Cas jerks away from Dean, staring in horror at Sam and waiting for him to
holler down the stairs at their parents. He doesn’t though, just leans almost
casually against the doorway and appraises the two of them silently.
“Mom just came upstairs, so if you’re going to keep making out in here, you
might want to close the door,” Sam says plainly. From the corner of his eye,
Cas can see Dean’s jaw drop open slightly, and he’s sure he looks no better.
“What?” Dean says. Sam smirks.
“I’m just telling you that you have to be more careful when Mom and Dad are
home.”
“You knew?” Dean asks incredulously. Sam shrugs.
“The walls in this house aren’t nearly as thick as you think they are.” And now
Cas knows when Sam found out. It was the one time they did anything more than
kissing during the day when Sam was home, right after spring break of last
year, and they’d thought they were safe because Sam had a friend over and they
were playing video games downstairs. And then he feels his face flush bright
red because he remembers in vivid detail what Dean had been saying as Cas went
down on him and he’s pretty sure that Sam heard at least some of it.
“Sorry,” Dean offers weakly, and Sam rolls his eyes.
“It was just the one time. Anyway, do you want me to shut your door?”
“No thanks,” Cas says as eloquently as he can manage, because Dean looks like
he’s about to put his foot so far into his mouth he starts deepthroating it.
“And. Um. Thank you, Sam.”
“No problem.” The nod Sam gives him tells Cas that he knows that he’s being
thanked for the entire year, not just this afternoon. “And Dean?”
“Yeah?” Dean replies weakly.
“I can take care of myself.”
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
The one complaint Castiel has about the dorm rooms at UCSD are the beds.
They’re tiny things, twin sized and mildly uncomfortable, and the only way he
and Dean both can fit on one is if they lay practically on top of each other.
Their roommate, Benny, still looks at them funny every night when they pile in
to go to sleep, but the first night they’d done it he’d glanced at the matching
gold bands on their left hands and told them that if they wanted to wake up
with their backs hating them in the morning, that was their business.
Dean had proposed on the flight to California. He’d waited until they were
safely in the air, after his mid-takeoff panic attack and the pills that were
supposed to help him calm down. As they flew over the endless beige plains of
Kansas, Dean had fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a black velvet box,
and Cas’s heart stopped.
“I bought it yesterday,” Dean admitted sheepishly. “Sam helped. But I’ve wanted
to do this for a while, and I figure now’s a good a time as any.”
“Dean,” Cas breathed, his eyes flicking between the box and Dean’s eyes.
“Cas.” And then Dean had flipped the box open to reveal two matching rings with
an intricate design etched onto the surface. “Marry me?”
If they hadn’t been on an airplane, Cas would have flung his arms around Dean's
neck and kissed him senseless. As it was, he had to settle with leaning across
the armrest and doing his best to do it anyway. 
“Is that a yes?” Dean had whispered, his breath blowing on Cas’s lips.
“Always,” Cas had replied. The rings fit them perfectly, and Cas knew he was
going to spend the rest of the flight caressing the cool gold.
“It’s always nice to see young love flourishing,” said the lady sitting next to
Cas in the window seat piped up. She had to have been at least eighty, but
there was youth twinkling in her eyes. She dug in her purse and pulled out two
pieces of candy, pressing them with wrinkled fingers into each of their hands.
“I wish you two the best.”
The woman had settled back in her chair, pulled her hat down over her face, and
fallen asleep for the rest of the flight. For those hours, sitting in what Dean
described as a ‘metal death trap’, hurtling through the air at hundreds of
miles an hour, Castiel was happier than he’d ever been in his life.
The weeks he’s spent at UCSD with Dean have been a close second, though. Benny,
despite Cas’s initial misgivings, has turned out to be one of the most kind
people Cas has ever met, and he and Dean get along like a house on fire.
Charlie, the girl who lives in the room next to them, has also become a close
friend. She spends the night in their triple room several times a week,
crashing on the bed that Cas had used once in the beginning of therm before
sneaking into Dean’s in the middle of the night. Her roommate has practically
taken over their double room, playing music on the rare nights that she doesn’t
have her boyfriend over.
Cas, Dean, Benny, and Charlie are all in the same college, so they share
several core classes, and he finds himself much more fascinated with his major
than he initially anticipated he’d be; the philosophy of science had sounded
intriguing from all the descriptions he’d read of it, and it had called to him,
but Castiel hadn’t had high hopes for the classes themselves. Dean has been
flying by so far as well, his mechanical engineering major well suited to him.
Dean and Charlie can often be found arguing good naturally about their favorite
games, and whenever Cas dares venture a comment, the speed with which they shut
him down never fails to amuse him. Cas often finds himself in deep
conversations with Benny, about everything from their mother’s pie to Benny’s
biotechnology major and what led him to pursue it. He quickly comes to regret
his first impression of the man, who had seemed vaguely disgusted at their
initial meeting when he had seen their rings and their twined fingers. Cas
later learns that Benny had been raised in Louisiana, and even though he’s very
accepting and open minded and bisexual, he’s still trying to work past what he
was raised to believe.
The best thing about college, Cas has decided, is the fact that he can kiss
Dean whenever and wherever he wants. Between classes, in the on-campus
restaurants, on the beach that’s ten minutes away from their dorm. Everyone
here assumes they’re already married, which is why they share the same last
name, and they don’t dispute the assumption. Which means that they’re
officially a couple hear, and Castiel couldn’t be happier about it. 
Until Thanksgiving Break.
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
Cas comes back from a meeting with one of his professors to find Dean sitting
ashen faced on their bed, phone in hand. He immediately drops his bag on the
floor of the tiny room and rushes over, perching next to his brother.
“What happened?”
“Mom called,” Dean replies. Castiel furrows his brow, unable to see why that
would garner the reaction it has, but he waits to say anything until Dean
explains. “She’s flying out for Thanksgiving.”
Cas's stomach plummets. Now he knows why Dean looks the way he does. Mom’s
flying out, which means that she’s going to be here, which means that their
friends are going to know that they’re brothers and their mother is going to
know about them.
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely, unable to express himself through any other wording.
“Tell me about it,” Dean replies. “We’re screwed.”
That, they most certainly are. But there has to be something they can do, Cas
figures, some way to keep them secret. It’s not going to be without some cost
though.
They tell Benny and Charlie the next day. They’re all in their dorm room, and
Benny’s doing homework and Charlie’s coding, and Dean and Cas are trying not to
vibrate out of their skin. Finally Charlie sighs and shuts her laptop, fixing
them with a stare from across the room.
“All right, guys, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to crap
yourselves.” Benny looks up from his textbook, putting down his pen and staring
at them from the bottom bunk, waiting. Cas takes a deep breath and wills
himself not to break down.
Dean is the one who speaks first, his hands clenched into fists on his lap,
knuckles white with tension.
“Cas and I aren’t married.” They both know that this will probably take some
elaboration, but if they’re lucky it won’t be too much. Just enough for Charlie
or Benny to kick them out. Benny’s looking at them with confusion in his eyes,
but Charlie sucks in a sharp gasp and covers her mouth with her hand, eyes
flicking between the two of them.
“Have I missed something?” Benny asks, and Cas shuts his eyes.
“We’re not married,” he whispers. “We’re brothers.”
Maybe if he keeps his eyes closed everything will be okay. Benny and Charlie
won’t be disgusted, Mom won’t be coming for Thanksgiving, and the last five
minutes will have never happened. But that isn't the case.
“Why are you telling us this?” Benny asks carefully, and it’s not like Cas
expected him to immediately tell them to get out, except that he kind of did.
“Our mom is flying out for thanksgiving,” Dean replies, voice shaking, and one
of his hands fumbles blindly for Cas’s, holding it in a bruising grip. “And she
doesn’t know.”
“Okay,” Benny says, and this is it, he’s going to tell them that they’re
disgusting, that they need to leave. “What do you need from us?”
“What?” It bursts from Cas’s mouth without permission, his eyes flying open
like he can take it back somehow. Benny’s still looking at them, no change in
his expression, and Charlie’s staring like they’re a puzzle she can figure out
if she looks long enough.
“What do you need us to do?” Benny repeats. “What, did you think that I was
going to make you move out?”
“Yes?” Dean says hesitantly. “I mean, we wouldn’t blame you for it.”
“I don’t care!” Charlie exclaims suddenly, then flushes. “I mean, you guys
obviously love each other and all, so it doesn’t really matter because you
can’t have genetically fucked-up kids anyway. So. We’re cool.”
Castiel is not tearing up. He’s not. Except when Benny climbs off of his bed
and pulls Cas up and into a hug, those are definitely tears sinking into his
friend’s shirt. Charlie slides down from the top bunk and wraps her arms around
Dean and he’s crying too, so maybe that’s okay, and as Cas whispers his thanks
to his friends he thinks that there may be some way to salvage this thing after
all.
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
Mary flies in that Saturday. Dean and Cas greet her at the airport and then
confess that they took the train and that she should probably rent a car and
take them to get something to eat. She laughs and calls them freeloaders, and
then they show her the wonders of In-N-Out Burger on the way back to campus. 
It's not difficult, falling back into the routine of being brothers, but Cas
still itches to grab Dean's hand or to press a kiss to his cheek whenever Dean
smiles. Which is often. 
Mary chatters the whole ride back to campus, about the hotel room she'd booked,
about Sam and his classes, about the gossip they've missed in the last four
months. Jo Harvelle and Ash Tucker finally gave into their sexual tension, she
comments, shooting a look at Cas through the rearview mirror that he can’t
quite decipher. She shakes her head, then returns to telling them about the
latest stunt Mrs. Mosely pulled off with the help of her class of first
graders.
Benny is finishing his Engineering 102 essay when they enter, and Charlie is
sprawled across the top bunk she’s permanently claimed, headphones on and
fingers flying across the keyboard. She jumps a foot in the air when they close
the door, then takes the headphones off and smiles politely. Dean and Cas take
a seat on their bead, because their room is tiny enough without three people
taking up moist of the floor.
“Mom, these are our roommates, Benny and Charlie,” Dean introduces.
“I thought this was a triple room?” Mary observes, the look in her eyes telling
Cas that she knows exactly why there’s four people in the room.
“My roommate is an asshole,” Charlie explains quickly. “And they weren’t using
the top bunk…” She trails off, sending a horrified look in Cas’s direction.
He’s confused, until he realizes that she doesn’t know that they’ve shared a
bed since they were infants.
“I thought they’d start sleeping in their own beds,” Mary fusses, smiling
broadly at their roommates. “What with them being so small.”
“Mom, please,” Cas says, blushing slightly even though there’s nothing to be
embarrassed about. Mary smiles beatifically and sits down next to him on the
bed so that he’s sandwiched between her and Dean. Benny closes his textbook and
stuffs it in his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and nodding at the three of
them.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Winchester,” he drawls.
“Please, call me Mary. And it was wonderful meeting you too, Benny.” Charlie
follows Benny soon after, claiming that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast and
that she’s starved and that the cafeteria is bound to run out of bagels
sometime, right?
They don’t speak for a while after Charlie leaves, sitting in careful silence
on Dean and Cas’s bed.
“So,” Mary finally says. “How have you two been?”
“We’ve been…fine,” Dean replies. He sounds nervous, and Cas doesn't blame him,
because there’s butterflies building an army in his stomach right now. Their
mom knows something, and Cas isn’t sure what or how much, but she knows.
“Look,” she says, briskly. “I know no one likes it when their mother plays
matchmaker, but I have to say this. You boys have been dancing around each
other for years, and I don’t know what sort of things might be going through
your heads when you think about it, but I just want you to know that no matter
what makes you happy, it doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both
comfortable.”
Cas’s draw drops. This is their mother, giving them her blessing. Giving her
two sons her blessing to be in a relationship. This is nothing like what he had
expected, and even though he’s still confused beyond belief, he’s happier than
he’s been since Dean proposed. Speaking of which…
“Mom,” he manages to get out. “Dean and I have been…”
“Together,” Dean butts in, before Cas can say something he’ll regret.
“Togetherfor nearly two years.” Mary glances between them, taking in Dean’s
nervous fidgeting and the way Cas’s hand keeps twitching, wanting to hold
Dean’s but still not sure that he’s allowed to. She smiles, then takes Cas’s
hand in hers.
“I’m happy for you,” is all she says, and it’s all she needs to say. Dean
clears his throat wetly and blinks hard, his fingers fumbling at his neck to
remove the chain that has both their rings on it. They slip them on, covering
the pale strip of skin where the rings have sat comfortably since Dean
proposed.
“Everyone here thinks we’re married,” Dean explains, his voice trembling.
“Benny and Charlie didn’t even know until a few days ago.”
“No one thinks it’s strange that we have the same last name,” Cas elaborates.
Mary leans over Cas and grips Dean’s hand with her free one and kisses them
both on the cheek, pride shining in her eyes.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says earnestly. “And I love you both very, very
much.”
“Love you too, Mom,” Dean chokes out, and then Cas actually does start crying
and they’re clutching each other’s hands and crying into their mother’s
shoulders like they’re five again and Gordon Walker pushed both of them down
the slide, one after the other.
“We probably shouldn’t tell your father about this,” Mary jokes, her voice
thick with emotion.
“Sam knows. Has since it started.”
“He always was too perceptive for his own good,” she muses.
They sit there until their tears have dried up, and then they pull back and
wipe their eyes and offer to show Mary around campus. The air between the three
of them is different, but it’s a good different. It’s a different that Castiel
can get used to.
“It’s a shame you two can’t get legally married,” Benny says later that week,
as he’s wedged against a restaurant wall with Mary at his side.
“Well…” Charlie says, and everyone at the table leans in to listen.
                            ◊          ◊          ◊
Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak get married during spring break, at a small
ceremony on the beach with five witnesses: Mary, Sam, Charlie, Benny, and
Missouri Mosely, the officiator, who looks at them and smiles. 
Nothing changes.
End Notes
     Jesus, this thing got away from me. It was supposed to be 3k of porn,
     but then plot(????sorta) happened, and this is where it got me. You
     can find more of my stuff at my_tumblr!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!