Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7192385.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Smith, Dean_Smith/Sam_Wesson, Castiel/Dean_Winchester/Sam
      Winchester, Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Smith, Sam_Wesson, Castiel_(Supernatural), Jo_Harvelle
  Additional Tags:
      Gay_Sam, Gay_Castiel, Internalized_Homophobia, Homophobic_Language, Drug
      Use, Prostitute_Castiel, Punk_Castiel, Goth_Castiel, Cutting, Self-
      Denial, Self-Destruction, Foster_Care, Questioning, Age_Difference, Fluff
      and_Angst, Foster_Kid_Dean, Threats_of_Violence, Awkward_Sexual
      Situations, Mutual_Masturbation, Dry_Humping, Post-Traumatic_Stress
      Disorder_-_PTSD, Parent/Child_Incest, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Questioning
      Dean, Polyamory_Negotiations, Recreational_Drug_Use, Drug_Addiction,
      Polyamory, Teen_Castiel, Violence, Canon-Typical_Violence, Aftermath_of
      Violence, Suicidal_Thoughts, Public_Blow_Jobs, Switch_Sam, Bisexual_Dean,
      Concussions, Hospitals, Wincestiel_-_Freeform, Tattooed_Castiel
  Series:
      Part 1 of Saints_and_Sinners
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-13 Updated: 2017-10-30 Chapters: 18/? Words: 109643
****** Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future ******
by nobodyshome0
Summary
     Dean wasn't a virgin, Castiel wasn't a prostitute, Sam wasn't in love
     with his brother... at least not really. Dean Smith is turning thirty
     and he hates his life. He is rich successful it is all he ever
     wanted, but he's miserable. He has money, women, and power something
     is missing in his life, but it can't be men because he is straight...
     except in his dreams. Cas is a self destructive nineteen year old
     foster kid reject eking by selling drugs till a fall out with his
     boss forces him into another position entirely. Sam is a twenty-four
     year old college drop out, ex drug addict who is helplessly in love
     with his foster brother Dean. Is there a way where saints and sinners
     can have both a past and a future?
Notes
     I changed Sam's age to a six year difference just because . The
     underage tag is here in case of flash backs mostly for Castiel and I
     will post trigger warnings before any chapter with rape or non
     consent
      
     I'm not trying to belittle the LGBT youth who are often faced with
     this same situation, just tying to tell a story my version of these
     events will be as accurate to prostitution as pretty woman was so
     don't expect much. a lot of the view of gay people in this is also
     Dean's internalized homophobia and struggle to identify himself.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** In the world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one
wants, and the other is getting it. *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Castiel Novak wasn’t a prostitute, not really. Cas sold drugs. It might not be
the best job in the world but either way out here he would be working a corner
and he much preferred selling drugs to selling his ass.  He’d done that before
in a matter of speaking.   He was pretty sure letting someone fuck you when you
have absolutely zero interest in them sexually so you could have a roof over
your head and food to eat was pretty close to whoredom even if no cash was
exchanged.  He’d done that most of his teen years a boyfriend there a
girlfriend there, he was pretty used to offering up sex to get what he wanted,
but he wasn’t a whore in the classical sense. He didn’t meet with johns, didn’t
turn tricks. He’d never been booked for prostitution possession sure but never
solicitation.  If occasionally he blew a guy for a bit of blow or jerked his
neighbor off so Dan would buy him booze what of it? He was an adult, in a few
months he was turning 20. He’d officially no longer be a teenager. Not that
he’d been a kid for very long anyway.
Currently he was selling mostly party drugs.  Molly, poppers, LSD, special K,
whatever he could get his hands on. He used to be a professional, worked with a
group of professionals actually, until they thought he’d be better suited as a
party favor than a party supplier. He drew the line at someone else pimping him
out. If he was going to suck cock for a living he wanted it to be on his own
terms.  As it was he was trying to stick to the business he knew without
running into his old associates.
Those people didn’t usually take kindly to some selling on their turf. They
tended to like it even less if you used to work for them. He was mostly selling
to college kids, people just a bit older than he was. Sometimes a soccer mom
from the burbs would show up and ask for stuff like weed, but mostly party
favors. Every once in a while he would wind up on the wrong end of a deal. He
wouldn’t make enough money to pay rent at the motel he was staying in and he’d
blow the night manager in exchange for the room.  
It was disgusting but it was over quickly and Sal insisted on a condom anyway
so it really didn’t matter much to him.  
If he was being honest nothing really mattered much to him. He was eking by,
his existence didn’t make much of an impact on those around him and he liked it
that way. He dealt with everything mostly through pain or alcohol. At first it
started with piercings, then tattoos, then when he got tired of decorating his
body he damaged it. Mostly cut his wrists and forearms. Never enough to kill
himself, he was fucked up but he wasn’t suicidal.
Sometimes when he had a good night he’d take some E and actually find a guy to
fuck him. Someone he liked, someone who railed him till it hurt. Pulled his
hair bit his neck. Someone who fucked him hard against the brick wall. He liked
the cool gravely feel of brick digging into his face as some rando split him in
two.  He made them wear a condom cause again he was fucked up but he didn’t
have a death wish.  He never came. It wasn’t easy to get hard on E but somehow
it was still fulfilling in a weird way. He got tested once a week at the clinic
to be sure.
Tonight had been a bad night. It was early still but he had a pounding
headache, he’d been rolled.  Malik’s crew most likely. It was kind of hard to
recognize faces when you were curled protectively in the fetal position your
hands over your head.  His ribs were aching something fierce. He actually
reveled in the pain a little bit. It meant he wouldn’t have to cut tonight. The
pain was grounding in a strange way. It kept him in his body. Reminded him that
he was really here. The down side was they stole his drugs and his money. To
make matters worse Sal wasn’t having it tonight. Cas tried their regular deal
but Sal told him to fuck off. Told him don’t come back without money. Guess he
needed to work on his technique if even Sal was getting tired of him
halfheartedly blowing him.
That left him with one option. Which was why he was out leaning against the
wall in the middle of January behind a gay bar. It was kind of hard to find
someone willing to pay you for sex when you couldn’t even get inside a club.
He had a fake ID for this purpose so he could sell his drugs in various night
clubs but that too was one of the things that was stolen from him.  Sal had let
him back in the room so he could grab his duffel, and he hadn’t even asked for
a hand job in return. He really wasn’t that bad of a guy. The motel must really
be short on money, that or they’d finally caught him skimming from the till and
were cracking down on him letting twinks stay at the motel for blowjobs.
Not that he really considered himself a twink. Sure he was tall and skinny, but
he liked to think his maudlin air kept away a lot of those who were attracted
to his youth.  He decided that he would really outdo himself on the goth makeup
tonight. He figured heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow, and black lipstick. Looked
better than a black eye and an obvious split lip. Plus, it was dark in the
alley, he hoped if he ever did have any patrons they wouldn’t notice or better
yet wouldn’t care that he was a little worse for the wear.  If he was lucky
maybe they would feel sorry and pay him more.
                                      ***
Dean Smith wasn’t a virgin. Not really. he’d had sex. Loads of sex, if he was
being honest maybe a bit too much sex. The kind of wild crazy sex that let you
know someone was overcompensating for some other hole in their life. He had sex
with younger women, older women, single women, and even married women. He had
sex with women he liked, women he hated, women he barely even knew, but he’d
never had sex with a man. It was that particular lack of sex that was bothering
him at the moment. He wasn’t having an existential crisis he kept telling
himself. He was just tired. It was a random firing of neurons as his brain
sought the oblivion of sleep.  He’d had trouble falling asleep tonight…every
night this week… This month... All year.  He needed to get out of bed he knew
he wouldn’t sleep as it was. He should go get the vodka he kept in his freezer
down enough of it to put him to sleep, he had work in the morning.
Instead he stayed exactly where he was. Laying on his back nestled in his king
sized bed a silk navy blue night shirt and sleep pants separated his skin from
his baby blue 1500 Thread Count Egyptian cotton sheets. The thin bands of light
from the streetlamps were edging their way slowly into his room. The duvet was
pulled back settled around his hips, he had grown hot in the middle of the
night. He missed sleeping naked, but he only allowed himself to do so when he
had a woman spend the night. He spent too much money on several nice sets of
pajamas not to wear them. He had earned these luxuries.
He was staring at the little white popcorn bumps that covered his ceiling.
Unlike the houses he grew up in. His ceiling was white and clean. No dust, no
weird yellow discolorations from nicotine smoke or water damage even in the dim
of the night he could see how pale white his walls were. The air smelled clean
too. No funky room smell, or the smell of unwashed bodies in an overcrowded
room. 
He had the dream again, but that’s what happens when you shove something down
and ignore it. You leave it for your subconscious to deal with.  Seemed like
that was all that happened when he slept. He ran that night over and over in
his head. His arm still ached when it rained. Sometimes beside himself he would
still wake up in the middle of the night and reach out for Sammy to make sure
he was safe, but they were adults now. He and Sammy hadn’t shared a bed in
years. Not since they lived together in foster care. Cramped shoved into a
small space forced to share.
He was turning thirty tomorrow.   January 24th. He supposed that was enough to
give everyone a bit of an existential crisis.   It was going to be pretty much
like any other day at the office of Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. If he could see
himself now as a ten-year-old kid, he would never believe it.
Back then it had all seemed so easy. Get a job that made shit loads of cash
then he could take care of Sammy and Jo and his life would be perfect. Except
it wasn't. He sat in his office everyday uncomfortable as hell. In his
expensive and somehow terribly lumpy office chair his hair slicked back wearing
a suit and tie eating rabbit food to stay in shape since he never had time for
the gym. All so that he looked the part of a sales shark. In theory maybe it
had been easy. In practice it had been much harder than he had ever
anticipated. It had been weeks of studying, when he could have been out
experimenting in high school.
During collage at Stanford first for his bachelors then his MBA he had
sacrificed so that he could save his family, small and messed up that it was,
even when people fell through the cracks.
 It meant saying things he didn’t mean and wearing clothes that he secretly
hated, dating the “right” people versus the “wrong” ones. Apparently it was
working too because he was dominating the sales in his division and rather than
make him happy he just felt empty.   
Did he have regrets? Maybe, but didn’t most people.
Sammy had always naturally been the smarter of the two of them, but he was a
dreamer. Where Dean had focused on job marketability and profit, Sam had
focused on the good of the community, the environment, humanity whatever.
Which was probably why Dean was the head of sales and marketing at Sandover
while Sam was lucky that Dean had been able to get him a job in tech support in
the company after his most recent crunchy granola venture failed. Sam was an
activist, every time he got a good job some environmental crisis or another
would happen and he would run off to protest. The last time Dean had to
actually bail Sam out of jail. They had not hung out much since then and Dean
felt he lost a big part of his life.
That hadn’t helped his job opportunities, neither did his old drug habit, but
he didn’t blame Sam. Not really. The environment they grew up in either made or
broke kids, and it made Sammy wanna help people.
Sam Wessen was six years younger than him. They had met when Sam was four and
they were placed in the same foster house. They had been inseparable ever
since. They had been lucky enough to stay together for years they were even
moved together at one point. Which had ended in the worst night of his life. 
Dean swung out of bed his feet hitting the soft carpet of his bedroom he went
to the closet to get dressed.  He wasn’t sure where he was going, it was after
11 the only thing that would be open would be bars. Technically he was on a
cleanse, but at the moment he didn’t give a flying fuck.
He didn’t like remembering, his time in foster care. Too many painful memories
that he’d spent years shoving down inside himself. That Dean Smith, the one
that liked rock and fast cars and maybe men died a long time ago. He had spent
too much time cultivating his new image sometimes it felt like this was how he
truly was. He perfected his image till it felt a part of himself. It was his
armor. He didn’t like to let people in. Objectively he knew liking men wasn’t
really a problem after all Sammy was gay and he supported his brother fully. It
was his own hang up. He couldn’t like me. He knew it was paradoxical and
hypocritical, but he had to be straight.
 He sighed as he longingly glanced at his multi-jet mist shower. Maybe he
should just take a shower? It was possible it would help him relax.  He tossed
on a white tank undershirt before pulling on the pinstriped baby blue dress
shirt, his affixed his suspenders to his slacks before looping the red tie
around his neck. It didn’t feel like a noose he reminded himself it was a
symbol of power.
Maybe it was because Lisa’s words were still ringing in his ears. Maybe it was
a much older utterance of the word that gripped him, but all he could hear
ringing in his ears.
“fucking faggot!”
At the time he’d simply froze.  The truth was he didn’t know.  He enjoyed
having sex with women. It was pleasurable, but when he dreamed it wasn’t woman
in them. Did he every once in a while look at solo male porn? Yeah. He liked
watching guys stroke themselves to completion, but that was it. He never
imagined himself doing the stroking. Never pictured anything further than that.
Dean had never explored that part of himself, for most of his life he thought
he never would and he was fine with that. Except now he wasn’t so sure.
The foster care system didn’t have the best record towards LGBT youth. That was
a safe thing to say. Dean couldn’t say he was an exception.
He still remembered the beatings he received at the hands of his foster father.
He’d always taken the brunt of it. when he’d found Sammy’s play girl underneath
the mattress, he’d taken the blame for it and wound up in the hospital with a
broken arm. Of course he never told Sammy why he wound up in the hospital. Even
though Sam likely suspected.
He found it funny in a way too considering the amount of times his foster
father beat him for being a fucking faggot that Sammy was the one experiencing
a healthy gay relationship where Dean had never so much as jerked it to another
man. Sure he watched porn but he made sure to switch to straight porn before he
jerked off.  Ultimately he realized that he was probably bisexual, but at the
same time he knew he would likely never explore that side of himself.
He was too fucked up about it.  Which was why on nights like these when he
couldn’t sleep because he was either dreaming he was getting the shit kicked
out of him by his foster father or dreaming that he had his cock buried deep in
another man’s ass he turned to vodka to sleep.
Which also explained why he was completely out of vodka.
So Dean got in his car and drove. He wasn’t headed for any particular location
when he started out. He headed for downtown.
It was 11:30 on a Thursday it wasn’t very likely that his brother was out but
on the off chance that he was he called him.
“Dean?” he asked surprised. His voice was slightly slurred. It was obvious that
he had been drinking, but he didn’t sound drunk.
“Hey ya Sammy what you up to?” he begun more cheerful than he felt.
The line was silent for a moment before his foster brother responded.
“I’m at a bar actually.” He seemed oddly tense for a man who was out drinking.
“Mind if I join you?” Dean asked. There was a long pause. In reality the pause
only lasted a few seconds but it felt like minutes.
“I’d love that actually.”
“Awesome I’ll be there soon.”
                                      ***
Sam Wesson was in love with his brother, but Dean wasn’t his brother, not
really. Not in the only way that mattered, not by blood.
            Sam hung up the phone and laid his head down at the bar with a
groan. The wood was cool beneath his forehead. The sounds of people playing
pool and laughing in the background seemed to pull his attention briefly.  He
was drunk but not drunk enough to forget how much he wanted Dean to love him
back. Just drunk enough where he was horny and liable to get himself in
trouble.
 Dean had sounded strangely lost. He had wanted to reach out to him and make
things between them. They hadn’t been hanging out lately and Sam knew why even
if Dean didn’t. He wanted his foster brother’s cock. It was messed up. In spite
of everything in all the other ways that mattered they had been raised as
brothers. Dean took care of him, looked out for him, stood up for him.
            Sam had gone out tonight looking to get laid. He thought maybe he
could get pleasantly drunk and take a guy home, maybe if he was lucky one that
was 6’1 with sandy brown blondish hair and green eyes. Sam used to get high to
forget and it worked… for a little while. Till it didn’t. Till he couldn’t
control the urge to get high and he simply replaced his overwhelming urge for
Dean with a drive to get high. It was mostly pain pills. He got oxycodone from
a friend at a party, that was it.  It was the perfect numbness he’d been
reaching for.  Oxy drowned out every other feeling. Leaving him floating, but
he was one year sober now and he still hadn’t solved the original problem.
 What to do about his feelings for Dean?
It would be easier if Dean was straight, if Dean was completely outside the
realms of possibility then he would be able to forget about him and move on,
but he’d seen the man’s browser history. If Dean actually understood computers
he would realize that it wasn’t just busty Asian beauties that showed up on his
search history and probably have a fucking cow.
Sam had been in love with Dean since he was eleven years old, but it wasn’t
till much later that he realized that he had a shot with him. Every part of him
knew that he should see Dean as a sibling the same way Dean saw him, but he
didn’t. Couldn’t.  It had been particularly awkward as a teenager. Dean had
aged out of the system, but he stuck around for him till he went to Stanford. 
It was a long drive from Sioux Falls, especially for a lovelorn teenager
without a driving permit. He had pined for him for years. Eventually when he
turned seventeen he lost his virginity to some football player because he
thought he’d never have a shot to be with the one he wanted.   Only to have
Dean walk in on the aftermath. Dean had never been anything but accepting of
his sexuality. He supported him and stood up to him when people called him
names.
As far as he knew that was the first time Dean even realized he was gay, but
rather than push him away Dean had given him a thumbs up and a high five that
had shredded his soul. It wasn’t until Sam was twenty-one that he realized that
Dean might not be 100% heterosexual. It was right after Lisa left.  Dean kissed
him.
Dean had gotten blind drunk and trashed his apartment. Sam had gone to see him
and found him on the floor. Sam had been terrified at first he thought he was
dead, then he realized he was crying.
Sam had never seen Dean cry before, not like this. He said Lisa left him.  When
Sam asked why he’d curled up in a ball and refused to answer.
Sam remembered the moment with perfect clarity that only comes when you relive
a moment over and over again. Sam had managed to have drag/drunk walk Dean to
his bed.
Dean had curled into him, laid his head in his lap. Sam ran his hand through
his hair soothing him. He fell asleep at one point, Sam had stayed simply
stroking his hair trying not to get up and give Lisa a piece of his mind. 
Their romance had been always been more of a hurricane than a whirlwind. Always
hot cold, she swore she supported him but couldn’t take the long hours of his
job.  She had her son, to worry about and naturally he was the most important
thing in her life not that Sam blamed her for that. Sam resented her for having
Dean and letting him go.
The kiss surprised Sam more than anything in his entire life. At some point Sam
had fallen asleep he woke to Dean kissing him.
It was everything he had ever wanted. The kiss was sloppy and hurried, but at
the same time masterful. Dean had laid a hand on the side of his face as he
awkwardly pressed his body into him Sam remembered the feel of his cock
pressing into his hip through his sweatpants. Dean’s lips moved against his.
The rasp of his stubble across his face. Dean had traced the seam of his lips
with his tongue till Sam had moaned aloud.
Sam had pushed Dean away. He’d been drinking he didn’t want it to happen like
this. Dean had whined, but said nothing only settling back down in the bed. It
was then Sam realized Dean had no idea it was him, when he kissed him. Hell he
didn’t even remember kissing anyone.
The next day Sam asked what he could remember Dean didn’t even remember Sam
coming over. It didn’t seem like he was lying, Dean had always been a good
liar, but not to him.
Sam had never seen him show interest in a man in real life however, besides the
one-time kiss. He’d watched. Maybe dean was just heteroflexible and decided
against persuing men. Maybe he was just drunk… but that didn’t explain the
porn. Maybe he was bisexual and just still in the closet. Sam didn’t know but
he wanted to even though he was sure the last man on earth Dean would ever hook
up with sober would be Sam. So Sam sighed and ordered another beer, hopping he
wouldn’t make himself an alcoholic in the process.
                                      ***
Dean pulled into the parking lot. He didn’t recognize the address that Sam had
texted him, but judging by the collection of men by the door, he was suspecting
that it was a gay bar. For once the idea didn’t frighten him. He was here for
Sam, not himself. No one needed to guess that he might belong there. He started
walking towards the door when he saw a tall man with longish hair round the
corner towards the alley.
“Sam?” Dean called out the man didn’t turn so Dean followed.
His brother was clean he reminded himself as he crossed the parking lot and
entered the alley. He wouldn’t be going in an alley behind a bar to get drugs.
The alley smelled like piss and shit, and trash. A large dumpster blocked the
direct line of sight down the alley so he tread carefully forward.  Graffiti
decorated the walls, Dean wasn’t sure what they might represent but he knew it
wouldn’t be anything good. He’d turned another corner and was now behind the
building. There was no direct light behind the building all of the light that
lit the alley came from the front of the building or the warehouse a few
buildings away or the moon over head. The concrete of the alleyway was broken
up in pieces, large clumps of grass jutted out here and there.  Leaves and
other trash littered the corners.
The man he’d been following was nowhere in sight. Dean paused. It was possible
he was following some dude who had to take a piss while the bathrooms were full
or worse some guy out to get his dick sucked.  Or maybe he just wanted a
cigarette. Still the strange nervous feeling in his gut when he saw the man
wouldn’t let up.
Dean continued walking. At the edge of the building he saw a shadow.  The
shadow moved slowly towards him. The strange swirling in his gut wasn’t fear.
Yes, a part of him acknowledge that he might about to be robbed or murdered,
but it was excitement not fear that had his heart racing. He really was
repressed if walking down an alley at night had his heart reaching with
excitement.  
The shadow turned out to be a kid, at least Dean assumed he was a kid.  The
voice that called out was surprisingly gruff but still sounded young.
“You lost?” The voice asked.  He couldn’t quite make out the details, but there
was clearly a man leaning against the wall in the shadows.  It was only at that
minute that he realized while his clothing might be perfectly suited for a
boardroom setting it made him stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town.
“I’m looking for someone.” He replied instead rather than admit that yes indeed
he was vaguely lost. As he briefly ignored the man and continued to scan the
alley. Where was Sammy?
“A suck or a fuck?” the voice asked. Dean spun back towards the man had moved
out of the shadows, boy really.
He was young. Dean could tell that immediately even beneath the makeup. He was
outside of a bar so it stood to reason that he was in his twenties, but he was
outside of one maybe it was for a reason.
He was pale. Dean imagined even without the benefit of the black clothing and
eyeliner he would still look pale. He wore a black leather trench coat that
somehow fit him to a T. A black t-shirt sporting some band name that he didn’t
recognize. His hair was black except for the streaks of electric blue that ran
through the top layer, the sides of his head were shaved leaving on a thin
layer of stubble.
He was covered in piercing. Two silver hoops bisected his left brow, he had
another silver hoop through his full bottom lip. He noticed the same collection
of silver loops along his ears. A metal bar shone in his right ear.
             “Excuse me?” Dean asked briefly confused by the blueness of the
stranger’s eyes. Contacts maybe?
The boy grinned, bringing Dean’s attention to the boy’s mouth.
“I said…” he continued slowly pushing off the wall, he was lithe like a
panther.He gracefully walked towards him. there was a promise of something in
his eyes that Dean wasn’t sure of.  He laid a flat palm on his chest. He was
close enough to dean that he could smell him. He smelled earthy like clove
cigarettes and patchouli.
“a suck or a fuck?”  he said each word carefully and proudly enunciating every
syllable. Tilting his head first to the left then to the right.
Castiel watched the man look at him as if he had grown a second head. The man
was clearly not a cop. He could tell that from his shocked and vaguely
scandalized face, he was fucking blushing. Perhaps he wasn’t a customer after
all.
He thought he had been lucky and not only gotten a rich guy looking to get his
rocks off on the wrong side of town, but a hot one at that. The man was older
them him, but he wouldn’t guess any older than 35. He was easily three or four
inches taller than him with broad shoulders and if what he could feel through
his shirt was true muscles. He was giving off a decidedly sexy daddy vibe. He
had earned his dinner in worse ways.
“What?” the man sputtered unsurely. It was fucking gorgeous, it made him feel
sophisticated and vampy to be the one perusing him. He was staring at his mouth
so Cas gave him something to look at teasing the lip ring with the tip of his
tongue flashing his tongue stud. He would take them out if the guy wanted head.
He wouldn’t risk ripping the condom.
“Make up your mind I haven’t got all night.” He snapped before continuing more
slowly.
“We can do it here… unless you have a car.” Cas continued placing his other
hand on the man’s chest so he could lean against him enticingly. It was cold
and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting on his knees on the alley’s
hard concrete.
“Are you propositioning me?”  the man asked aghast.  Looking less hot daddy and
more straight business man about the beat his ass.
Cas took a step back reevaluating. He’d gotten his ass kicked before at a
party. He went down on a guy who asked for it then turned around and brought
group of his buddies to beat him for forcing oral sex on him. Cas would be the
last person to ever rape someone he knew what it was like, but the man and his
buddies didn’t agree. Apparently offering a blow job to a hot jock was
entrapment.
“Look.” Cas insisted raising his hands up in supplication “If you’re not here
for a good time I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
“Do you proposition everyone?” The man continued his brows creasing “how old
are you?”
Castiel relaxed plastering his come hither smile back on. It wasn’t about the
service it was about the goods.
“Old enough if that’s what you’re worried about.”  The man opened his mouth to
say something before Cas cut him off.
“and I’m clean. I don’t fuck without a condom and I don’t do needles.”
The man was staring at him again.
He was surveying him. It started at his toes covered in his beat up black boots
and slowly traveled up his body. It was a strangely heated exchange, as if the
idea that he could fuck Cas had never occurred to the man till that very moment
and he was taking him in. Cas was really hoping he could convince the man to
give him a shot under different circumstances he’d have fucked the man for
free, but in the alley life wasn’t cheap.
“I’m not gay.” The man finally replied seemingly reluctant.
Cas smirked. “Look not for nothing Mr. but the last person who looked at me
like that … I got laid. I don’t give a fuck how you identify what I want to
know is do you want a suck or a fuck?”
A strange fluttering squirmed in his stomach. Dean knew it was obvious the kid
knew he was lying; it was also becoming obvious to him that this wasn’t just a
run of the mill hook up.
This kid was asking for money for sex.
“How old are you?” he asked again.  A brief flash of irritation crossed the
boy’s face. He straightened his skinny shoulders and crossed his arms across
his chest.
“What’s it to you?”
“Consumer curiosity.” He muttered sounding more confident than he felt.
“Nineteen.” The boy replied.  Dean sighed heavily. He was ten years older than
this kid. Dean had seen a lot of kids in foster care just like this one. The
system chewed them up and spit them out. Left them to fend for themselves on
the streets. He was struck with a powerful urge to help this kid. Maybe that
was why he’d been drawn out tonight. If he had been less lucky in life, he
could be in this boy’s shoes.  There was a lot of kids he’d known that went
down this same path. Especially LGBT who were especially vulnerable to the
system.
“and what you just ask strangers for money for sex?” Dean asked horrorstruck
“That is typically how this works yeah” the boy continued his comment dripping
with sarcasm. “Why do you care you’re not my mother?”  He ran a heated glance
over his body before biting his lip again. “and you ain’t my daddy either.” 
“What if I just give you the money?” dean asked hesitantly. He had a hundred-
dollar bill in his wallet. It wouldn’t solve anything long term but it might
stop him for tonight.
The boy crossed his arms over his chest and shot Dean a look that told him he
could take his charity and shove it up his ass.
“I’m not your fucking charity case, I earn my keep.”
“If you’re not gonna fuck me get lost, you’re scaring away other potential
customers.”
“What about my place?” Dean asked without thinking then immediately realized he
had just invited a male prostitute to his home. Maybe he had no intention of
sleeping with him but the kid and any undercover police officers didn’t know
that. He figured if he could get the kid off the street he could deal with it
in the morning. He was too old to call social services but maybe he could
reason with him.
The boy’s face closed off. He bit gently at his bottom lip as he seemed to
ponder the idea.
“Yeah alright, but it will cost extra and I’ll have you know if you’re planning
to kill me. I’m gonna make one hell of a mess while I die.”
He knew the kid was joking and at the same time he knew he wasn’t. 
He reached down at his feet and it was then Dean realized that the mass at his
feet that he had mistaken for garbage was a black duffel bag.
“but I’m gonna want the money up front.”
“Of course.” The man replied digging in his pants and fishing out his wallet.
He’d been planning on asking fifty to start and see if he could bump it up to
seventy-five enough to cover the motel cost and some food, but when the man
reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred Cas kept his mouth shut and
thanked his lucky stars that some rich ass hat wanted to pretty woman him.
“Still not bare backing it.” he insisted pushing past the man headed towards
the mouth of the alley.
Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing other than apparently bringing home a
fucking prostitute. He wanted to help the kid sure but this was a terrible
idea. Surely there had to be a better way.
“On second thought.”
Cas turned to him.
It was a myth that prostitutes didn’t kiss on the mouth. Prostitutes did
whatever you paid them to do, but Cas could tell this one was about to get off
the hook refund polices usually ended with his ass beat so he acted quickly.
He pressed himself against the man wrapping his arms around his neck. Pulling
him down for the kiss. Their height disparity wasn’t enough that it was
uncomfortable but he had to lean into him.  He pressed his body into the other
man’s they were flush against each other. The man made some kind of strangled
moan of protests, but Castiel mashed their mouths together nipping at the man’s
lower lip.  He shuddered. The stranger’s hands were limp at his side almost as
if he was afraid of holding him. He could work with that, if the man wanted him
to play the aggressor he could do that. He slipped on hand free from around his
neck and drug it down the man’s body, he could feel abs beneath his fingers as
his trailed down to the man’s crotch.
The kiss surprised Dean. In hindsight he should have been expecting something
the kid thought he was gonna take away his meal ticket it made sense for him to
protect it. The kiss was designed to illicit a purely gut visceral lusty
reaction. His mouth moved on his at first all pressure then a delicious
sensuous slide of moist heat. He rubbed their bodies together salaciously each
gratuitous press of flesh against flesh was another second that his brain was
turned off enough not to push him away.  Then the kid’s hand slipped down to
press against the front of his fly and all bets were off.
He was hard. It amazed Cas and turned him on at the same time when was the last
time he just kissed someone and they were hard? This was going to be a fun way
to earn his keep, hell if he was any good he might even cum.
“Couldn’t leave well enough alone?” Cas froze he knew that voice.
Dean was surprised when the kid roughly pushes him away and defensively backs
away.
The man before him blocking the alley was tall with chin length hair, it was
likely the man he thought was Sam.
Judging by the kid’s nervous reaction and the man’s words he might be the kid’s
pimp. He hadn’t put that into the equation when he’d been thinking of taking
the kid off the streets.
“Malik it’s not what it looks like.” The kid insisted backing away
unconsciously placing Dean in front of him.  The man crossed his arms and
walked towards them.
“Looks like you’re still selling on our turf just switched up the commodity.”
The boy ducked his head almost in shame.
“We were just leaving.” Dean insisted grabbing the kid’s wrist.
“Not so fast, what about my cut?”
Dean spun towards the kid and reached into the boy’s pants where he had seen
him slip the hundred.
“Hey!” he protested before Dean continued his voice hushed and harsh. “I’ll get
you a new one.”  
Dean held up the hundred-dollar bill where the man could see. It was clear he
had his attention.
“You get this if you let us leave.” He insisted.  The stranger smirked nastily
“Or I could just take it and your shiny watch plus I’d get to kick you asses.”
Dean chuckled “Wouldn’t it be a lot more fun to get both without kicking
someone’s ass?” 
The man was frowning apparently this wasn’t the way this normally went.
Dean took the watch off and set it on the ground on top of the hundred.
The man nodded slightly moving out of the alley so they could pass.
Dean let go of the boy’s wrist once he was sure he was following him but
regretted it when the other man suddenly lunged forward grabbing the boy by the
back of the neck. Their faces inches apart. 
“If I ever catch you on this side of town again I’ll make the last ass beating
I gave you look like a fucking holiday.”
He shook the kid once roughly before tossing him aside.
Dean held his hand out to the boy “Let’s go.” He insisted. He could see the
hesitation in the kids face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go through with this,
good. Even though the kiss left him with some very confused feelings he wasn’t
going to have sex with the kid he wanted to save him.
Cas watched the man, he had easily paid ten times as much for that watch as he
did for his ass, what if this guy thought he bought him or something? He
hesitated, but also Malik had made it clear that he wouldn’t be earning his
keep here anymore. What other options did he have?
                                      ***
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     I edited when Cas's birthday was originally I had it in a few weeks
     but in a later chapter I mentioned he was a Leo, I've modified it to
     match.
***** The truth is rarely pure and never simple. *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING discussions of past abuse.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Castiel never thought of himself as being self-destructive, at least not
really. Were there times when he did things counter to his own safety to feel
something besides the endless crush of nothingness that held on to his heart
and wouldn’t let go yes, but that was over simplifying a complex issue.
            Technically anything that goes against your health could be
considered self-destructive. Extra cheese on your pizza, binge watching Netflix
for seven hours. Staring at your phone screen every 23 seconds. It’s bad for
your eyes.
The shrink child services made him go see said that self-destructive behavior
was common among adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Along with a whole
other slew of things such as difficulty developing or maintaining close
personal relationships. Having a strong desire to live in isolation or to “hide
out” from life. Low self-esteem, avoidance of sex, promiscuity, or inability to
experience orgasms or erections. Dependence on alcohol, other drugs, to cover
feelings of humiliation, shame and low self-esteem. Signs of trauma like panic
attacks, numbing of body areas, and feeling of being disconnected from their
bodies. rages, depressions, sleep disorders, self-mutilation, suicidal
thoughts. So yeah maybe he needed to check a few of those boxes.
Maybe he did hide from the world more than he needed to, maybe he drank too
much or fucked too much. Maybe he cut because it was hard to focus on anything
else when he felt like a worthless waste of flesh and the pain was the only way
he could get rid of this seething anger rolling under his skin like boiling
snakes.
It started when he was three, and he knew that because that was how the first
picture was labeled not because he actually remembered.  It went on till he was
thirteen. So yeah maybe he developed a warped view of what sex should be like
long before he should have had any experience with sex. Maybe he was a little
careless because he’d spent more of his life being abused than he had taking
proper care of himself.
Maybe he didn’t want to trust anyone, maybe no one was really worth trusting.
The shrinks never seemed to think of that.  After all he should have been safe
in his own home.
He should have been safe with his own mother.
“Come on.” The man said again holding his hand out to him. Castiel wasn’t sure
if this was self-destructive or not, only time would tell in that regard. Maybe
he was self-destructive, maybe sometimes he didn’t think he deserved to live,
but he didn’t want to die.  As shitty and fucked up as life was it was still
better than being dead. It was one of the bright points in his life he was
alive and his mother wasn’t.
Cas took his hand it was strangely intimate, holding hands with someone rather
than fucking them or jerking them off.
They crossed the parking lot relatively quickly, the man glancing around
defensively as they went.
Cas couldn’t tell if it was because he was holding hands with a hooker or
because he was a man either way made Cas want to roll his eyes.
“I need to go back inside for a second, wait in the car.” He insisted quickly.
Opening the back door of his fancy hybrid.
Cas raised a brow but complied. If nothing else, it was a free ride to another
side of town. He didn’t trust this guy, but he didn’t trust anyone.
                                      ***
Sam wasn’t a hopeless romantic, not really. He didn’t intend to set himself up
for more heartache it just happened. He sat at the bar on the very edge, his
foot propped on the bottom of the stool to his right. He was holding a spot for
Dean. Actually that was his life in a nutshell. Holding a spot for Dean, in his
heart, in his bed, anywhere the man wanted to be.
He kept glancing at the door as he nursed his beer. He sipped it gingerly, he
could feel the tiny little stirrings in the back of his brain, when he knew he
was going to see Dean. Excitement, anticipation, and let’s face it lust.
He lusted after his foster brother. He had a dedicated channel in his spank
back to images of Dean, not this cultivated successful image he tried to
maintain in public, but the real Dean.
Nineteen years old shirtless covered in sweat and grease from the car he and
Bobby had been fixing up. Twenty-two-year-old Dean on leave from school dressed
up as a beardless Santa even though Sam had long stopped believing and both of
them knew it, as he placed presents under the tree, because he knew how much
Sam missed that as a kid. Twenty-four-year-old Dean who drove twenty-six hours
straight so that he could be there for Sam’s graduation, only to turn around
the next day and drive back because he still had one more final, that the
professor wouldn’t let him take early.  
That was the Dean he loved, before Sandover, before Lisa, before he put on all
these layers of bullshit so people didn’t know who he really was anymore. The
real Dean was still there, he’d seen him in bits and pieces over the last six
years. 
he’d tried so hard to be a good step-father to Ben. Dean had always been
nurturing. In his spare time, he volunteered at the boys and girls club, even
though he had less and less spare time. He was already making plans for Jo’s
high school graduation. He was there for him when he checked into rehab, and he
skipped work entirely on his first day out and spent the entire day with him,
he didn’t know that it might have done more harm than good.
He got him a job at Sandover that he hated with a fiery passion but it was Dean
still looking out for him. 
Sam knew he romanticized things with Dean more than he should. The one thing
that never changed about him was his commitment to family. It just sucked for
him that was how Dean saw him.
Dean walked into the bar and time stopped. He hadn’t seen him yet. He was
scanning the bar looking for him. The bar was a gay club that part was true,
but it wasn’t a dance club it was just a bar. Beer, pool tables and good
company. A sanctuary.
His heart skipped a beat when Dean saw him and he smiled, he was doomed
alright.
He strode quickly over to him. he looked a little ruffled, he should have
thought before inviting Dean to a gay bar. The man was so far in the closet he
smelled like mothballs.
“Somebody get his man a beer.” Dean called out as he reached him grabbing Sam’s
hand and pulling him up into a hug clapping him on the back as he did so.  Fuck
please don’t get an erection Sam thought to himself.
“Actually I’m good.” Sam insisted raising the half drank beer in his hands. The
bartender nodded and went back to flirting with the guy on the other end of the
bar.
“I can’t stay, but I wanted to say hi since I came all the way down here.” Dean
continued.
Sam frowned. Feeling oddly frustrated. He had thought he would get to spend
time with Dean, he had turned down two guys who offered to take him home.
“That’s alright, we still on for tomorrow night?” he asked. Dean’s birthday was
tomorrow and they had made plans of sorts.  Dean grinned. One smile and he was
back in.
He knew that he would have to deal with this crush of his soon.
He had to decide if having Dean in his life at all meant more than having Dean
the way he wanted him.
                                      ***
Dean wasn’t in denial… at least not really. He suspected Sam might have a crush
on him. he just pushed it down with all the other things he didn’t want to
think about like his sexuality or analyzing his own reaction to Sam’s crush, or
how he was slightly tempted by the damaged boy in his car.
Sam was looking at him like he kicked his puppy. He didn’t want him to leave,
and if Dean was being honest. He would say Sammy was his best friend, and he
wanted to stay with him too, but he had to work tomorrow and he had a male
prostitute in his very expensive car.
While he wanted to think that the kid was above stealing cars, since he himself
had said he wanted to earn his keep he didn’t want to stake his car on it for
very long.
He first became aware of the crush, when Sammy was fifteen. His awareness
started slowly. He’d notice a lingering look now and again.  The way he touched
him changed like a brush of the hand- innocuous but slightly intimate as well.
He always found reasons why he had to stay whenever Dean came home for break.
He listened too intently and watched too much. He truly knew when he and Lisa
got married. Sam had been angry, that he’d proposed to Lisa. Irrationally so.
It was their biggest fight. He had called Dean delusional. He’d said that he
would regret it, that they weren’t good together and would never be able to
make it work. Dean was glad that Sammy had too much grace to say I told you so
when the marriage failed only a year later.
“Of course.” Dean insisted in response to Sam’s question. They had left the
plan vague because he wasn’t sure when he would get off work, but he knew if he
was going to spend his birthday with anyone he wanted it to be Sam.
                                      ***
Taking the car had occurred to him. He had never owned one of his own but he
did know how to use one. He had a driver’s license even if he’d never had much
occasion to use it. He also had a criminal record and while he’d never spent
long in jail and he’d never gone to prison he had no inclination to start.
Not to mention the guy didn’t leave the keys
So he waited for the man to return formulating a plan. It wasn’t as cold in the
car still he kept his arms crossed across his chest. He would move on he
decided. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so in his life. He’d arrived here
on a greyhound bus last year, and he’d leave the same way. He’d been on the
move since he was fifteen. Foster care didn’t agree with him, he was too angry,
too damaged, too mistrustful, he was better off on his own.  He just needed a
direction and more importantly money. The man had promised him another hundred,
he didn’t look like the type who would welch on a deal, but he could never be
sure. Especially considering how   He figured if the man didn’t kill him, if he
didn’t pay he could always take things as a form of payment.  He wasn’t above
stealing to survive.
He laid down in the back seat there wasn’t enough space that he could lay down
flat so he left his feet seat and bent his knees. He crossed his arms behind
his head as a pillow.  This night wasn’t going how he expected, then again if
tonight had gone as expected he would still be out selling drugs he wouldn’t
have gotten robbed and he’d hit up the motel around four or five, he’d take a
shower, cut, then drink himself to sleep. he’d sleep till ten thirty and check
out at eleven then wonder around town all day looking for a job. The drugs and
sex wasn’t plan A, but it was hard to get hired when you had no job experience,
no permanent address and dress the way he did.  He supposed he could just
change his appearance but honestly everyone could suck a dick, he liked his
clothes, his hair, his tattoos and piercings made him feel safe. He’d start
selling once it got dark, occasionally he’d made a deal during the day but most
people partied after dark.
He was tired.
Dean approached the car with trepidation. Maybe he should have talked to Sam
about the kid. Sam was good with that kind of thing… helping people. He would
probably just flash him his doe eyes and the kid would just listen to him.
Instead he decided to take home the smart mouthed kid who insisted on sleeping
with him himself. He didn’t see him at first as he neared the car, he thought
that the boy had solved the problem himself and took off.
Except no, he lay on his side his knees tucked into his chest his arms
pillowing his head.  He looked somehow younger when he was sleeping.
Vulnerable.
“Shit.” Dean whispered to himself. He could not take advantage of this kid, but
what the hell was he gonna do with him?
It wasn’t like he could take him in? Even if the kid let him, and he was an
adult.
He sighed heavily, but got in the car. The boy jerked away presumably because
of the sound of the car door.
He glanced around blearily at first before sitting up.
“Put your seatbelt on.” Dean told him. the boy gave him a querulous look but
complied.
Dean pointed to car towards home, he kept glancing at the boy in the rearview
mirror. He was glancing out the window. Dean found himself wondering what his
guest was thinking. He had such an empty expression on his face. Like he was
just staring and thinking and the scenery meant nothing. Not that closed
building and darkness meant much.
“What’s your name?” Dean asked.
“Castiel.” The boy replied still gazing out the window. “You can call me Cas.”
“Is that your real name?” Dean asked suspiciously  
The boy chuckled darkly. “Real enough.”
“I’m Dean by the way.” Dean continued when he didn’t ask. Checking the mirror
again.
He was surprised how quiet the boy was. He had been aggressively flirting with
him this entire time, now he was quiet.  He put away his mask.
“and here I thought it would be John.” He replied with the same little dark
chuckle.
Dean laughed too, an awkward startled laugh he’d forgotten for a second the kid
was witty.
“It’s still a little way to my place if you wanna go back to sleep.” Dean
offered
“I don’t sleep when people are around.” He responded firmly he glanced out the
window again
“Do you have condoms at your place?” he asked suddenly.
He did in fact have a box of condoms in his bedside drawer, he also had lube, a
stoker, he even had a dildo that someone had gotten him a gag gift that he
hadn’t thrown out but also had never used.
Castiel was looking at him expectantly. He should tell him that they weren’t
having sex. That he didn’t have to do that for money.
“Yeah.” Dean replied gruffly.
Castiel watched buildings fly by. He found himself oddly excited about getting
to the dude house and commencing with the sex. Normally he didn’t really give
two shits about sex. Sex was mechanical, it was to be endured. It was a
tradeable commodity; it was an equivalent exchange a service in exchange for
goods. It was over quickly enough and the only time he really came was when he
got himself off. Sex was a tool to get something. If he wanted food he could
fuck someone for it, it he wanted money he could fuck someone for it, if he
wanted pain he could fuck someone for it. It was easy, but something about this
guy seemed different. He was strangely nice to him, but then again everyone was
nice before sex. It was afterwards that was the real kicker.
They parked on the street.  This side of town was much nicer than what he was
used too.  He was seeing more and more parallels between pretty woman, except
he wasn’t Julia Roberts. He was her friend that fucked rich guys all the time
but never got “rescued” from the life.
He kept his mouth shut as they took the elevator up. To his apartment. He
pulled his duster up closer to the back of his neck as he waited for the man to
open the door. He knew it wouldn’t really protect him but something about the
weight of the leather made him feel more comfortable.
The apartment was actually exactly how he expected it. Wide open spaces, modern
decoration, expensive furnishing, zero soul or personal touch.
“Did you want anything to drink?” Dean asked. “Beer if you’ve got one.”
“You’re nineteen.” He said surprised. “And you’re an upstanding citizen very
focused on the legality of what your prostitute drinks.”
Dean ducked his head so he couldn’t see his face.
“Fair enough.”  He walked to his kitchen he returned with a bottle light beer
and pressed it into his hand.
He didn’t really like beer, but it never really ended well if he fucked sober
and Malik’s guys took even his personal stash.
“Did you wanna take a shower?” Dean asked he gestured presumably towards a
bathroom.
The idea of a shower appealed to him, the hot water to soothe his pains. His
ribs were aching again, and he was discovering new aches and pains from his
beating but he knew they would only grow worse and he’d rather shower after
wards and he said as much.
“I’d rather shower after.” He glanced around taking in the surroundings. There
was plenty of spaced acceptable for fucking, which was what he assumed the man
decided on. He figured he wouldn’t have just had him suck him in the car if
that was all he wanted.
“What do you want?”
In the bright light in his apartment the kid looked even worse for the wear
than he originally believed. The boy was so incongruous to the life he had
built for himself. He was a black spot against his pale modern furnishing. His
lip was swollen so was his eye. He couldn’t really tell about the rest of him
with the leather trench coat. The makeup was as much of a disguise as it was a
fashion statement.  His eyes were so blue, dean wondered again if they were
contacts.
He had no idea what he was doing.
“Do you wanna take your jacket off?” he offered.
Apparently that was the wrong response. 
“What do you want?” he said again more irritated.
Dean sat on his sofa and Castiel plopped down next to him, a little too close
for comfort.
“Tell me about yourself.” Dean began Cas sighed heavily “You know this isn’t
date… and this isn’t pretty woman, this actually works better the less you
talk.”
“Humor me.” Dean insisted. He needed to know more about him. He needed an in,
he needed time so that he could convince him he needed help. Unless he wanted
to work with him he would not be able to help him. Cas rolled his eyes and
turned away from him pressing his back into the sofa facing forward.
“I sell drugs for a living mostly and tonight myself, I’m a Leo meaning I like
action not words so are we gonna do this or what?”  
Dean couldn’t meet the boy’s eyes. He was torn. He couldn’t deny that he was
curious, but at the same time he saw how vulnerable he was. He didn’t want to
take advantage of him.
Sex was probably the only way he knew how to connect with another person. His
whole life one way or another, he’d be replaceable undesirable. It was a
question every foster kid eventually asked at one point. Why me? What was it
about me that made my family give me up? It was irrational and self-pitying but
nearly impossible to ignore. His bio mom gave him up, when he was four. He
didn’t remember her. He’d bounced around the system his whole life.
He was so used to hiding himself he always held back except during sex. During
sex there was no restraint in him. He was fully alive in the moment he
expressed that.
“I’m straight.” He finally replied.
“Ugh, were back to that again?” Cas complained leaping to his feet.
“Do I need to remind you my opinion of that load of shit, because I don’t have
time for your closeted ass right now? I wanna sing for my supper so I can get
the fuck gone.”
“Where are you gonna go? Dean asked ignoring the majority of his outburst.
Cas turned back to him shooting him a look that screamed why do you care?
“I don’t know I hear Baltimore is nice.” He commented sticking his hand in his
jacket pockets shrugging.
“What not LA, or San Francisco?” Dean asked genuinely curious
“Been there done that.” Cas said off handedly
Dean was surprised by that. It had not occurred to him that this wasn’t where
the kid was from.
It wasn’t where he was from after all. He’d moved here for his job.
“Do you want my life’s story or do you wanna fuck, cause seriously my life is
boring but I’m good in bed?”
Dean looked uncomfortable.
A sinking feeling went through Cas.
“Oh don’t tell me you don’t have the money?” Cas complained
“No I do.” He replied quickly
“Were you lying about the condoms?”
“No”
“Then what the fuck is wrong?”
“Stay the weekend.” Dean commented quickly.
Cas stood up again. He needed distance. He was confused.  
“What are you talking about?” he demanded
Dean stood up too but he turned his back on him. He seemed oddly vulnerable
himself.
He turned back to face him. “Look I don’t know ok?”
“You don’t know why you want me to spend the weekend?”
“No I don’t know if I like men.”
Cas knew the look on his face was disbelief and skepticism but he kept his
mouth shut.
“And what does this have to do with anything?”
“I’ll pay you.” Dean offered.
Part of Cas said that he didn’t have time to deal with this stranger’s
bullshit, but another part of his was intrigued by the offer of payment, and
partially but the man himself. He was different than he expected him to be. Not
in the internalized homophobia, he’d seen that before. In a lot of gay and bi
men actually. Those same guys had never hesitated to fuck him they just didn’t
want to be seen doing it.  From what he had seen around the two-bedroom
apartment he lived alone. He didn’t think he was expecting any guests,
basically they were safe. The large windows were covered by blinds. No one
would see them together. Most guys who didn’t want to be known for liking cock
had no problem when no one was looking.
“For what?” he wondered. He didn’t wanna agree to something he couldn’t stand.
“For helping me figure it out.” Dean finally said after a long pause.
Cas smirked. “I can do that in half an hour we don’t need all weekend.”
Dean reddened. Another honest to god blush. It was a fucking dorable.
“I…” his brows were furrowed it was clear that he was trying to pick his words
carefully. In the light Cas adjusted his summation of Dean’s age. He was closer
to thirty. He wasn’t richard gere but he found him attractive. He wasn’t broken
in that regard. A lot of other ways but he knew who and what he liked he just
didn’t know how or care to honestly, open up to people
 “I want to do this at my pace.” He finally finished. He glanced away “I’m not
even sure if I’ll go through with it, but of course either way you get the
money” he added the last bit when noticed Cas had been about the speak.
Cas bit his lip pondering the idea. Did he wanna stick around the weekend to
maybe get fucked when he could be in Baltimore or Portland or where ever by
Monday.
“How much?” he didn’t wanna be that guy but he was. He was selling his time as
much as he was his ass. Staying here he was losing momentum, and while he used
sex as a tool he didn’t really wanna use it more than he had to. He had a weird
relationship with sex he could admit that. He could let someone fuck him sure
that was fine, but this guy might wanna touch him since he was setting up this
whole hooker with a heart of gold seduction scenario and he didn’t do that. It
never really came up much the few times he hooked up with guys from the clubs
or times he traded sex, they had been a bit too preoccupied getting their own
to worry about getting him off.”
“You can’t touch me.” He said quickly without thinking how it sounded, without
giving the man time to answer his previous question.
“What?” Dean asked confused by the kids turn of events.  He actually thought
that it might make things easier if the boy was turning him down. Maybe he
would still accept the money.
“I touch you. You don’t touch me. I’ll touch you any way you want and let you
put your cock wherever you want with a condom but you don’t touch me.”
There was something profoundly sad about that statement. Something he wasn’t
sure if he was ready to delve too deep into. He glanced at the clock. It was
12:37 he needed to get to bed he needed to be up in less than 6 hours. He
didn’t plan on going through with it. At least that was what he kept telling
himself. It would be ok to keep the kid, till he figured how to help him. What
he needed was more time.
“Ok.” Dean agreed.  
“How much?” the boy asked again visibly relaxing.
 
“2000.”
Holy shit!  Julia Roberts’ character only got 3 grand for a week this guy was
offering him 2 just to stick out the weekend and maybe fuck him. Ok yeah he
watched too much pretty woman so sue him.
“What’s the catch are you married, or in to kids, STI? are you gonna lock me in
the stocks 50 shades style? cause I like pain as much as the next guy but
getting tied up is another thing I don’t do.”
“No… to all of that,” he maintained waving his hands all encompassing. “And you
can back out anytime, but it’s five hundred a day, if you leave early you lose
that day."
Cas wasn’t gonna point out that technically Thursday was over it was officially
Friday, just three days.
“Did you wanna see me naked first or something, or anything this seems fucking
weird you know that right?”
He had to agree this felt like a badly written fanfiction, setting characters
in wildly unrealistic positions for the fantasy, but it wasn’t it was all real.
Somehow he had stumbled into this impossible situation and he needed to deal
with it.
Dean was sitting on the couch looking lost, Cas was going the break the first
rule about prostitution. He wasn’t gonna get the money up front.
He shucked his jacket and tossed it next to Dean on the sofa.  The man seemed
startled but didn’t move to stop him either.
He peeled the long sleeved T-shirt from his body. Dean hissed sharply. Cas
hadn’t gotten a chance to check out the bruising, which judging from Dean’s
reaction, must be impressive.
Oh well fuck it. He was confident enough in himself he knew that he was good
looking even if he was damaged. He almost laughed aloud at his train of
thought, he was way more than physically damaged.
Dean swallowed hard. He was fucking gorgeous. He was so pale, the plans and
dips of his chest coved with bruises across his ribs. He was thin, he was lean
and fit his skin perfectly overlaying the muscle beneath it.  A silver bar
pierced his left nipple leaving it permanently hard. He wanted to put his mouth
on it. The thought came unbidden and forbidden even if he wanted it was not
allowed... he also had tattoos several of them. A flower with a bumble bee
perched on his hip the stem of the flower disappearing into his jeans dipping
towards his pelvis. A pentagram surrounded by flame over his heart. A block
column of gothic script over his bruised ribs reading ‘Where there is sorrow,
there is holy ground’ tribal bands around his biceps and a large white bandage
covered his left wrist and forearm, He spun sarcastically offering Dean a view
of the rest of his body.
Large angel wings arched across his shoulders running down his entire back the
tips of which disappeared into his jeans.  A tramp stamp that read ‘no gods no
masters” there were smaller tattoos as well across his arms that he couldn’t
discern from this distance, there were also scars.
In between the tattoos sometimes on top of them was several scars. Some looked
like small circular burn marks others neat little slashes, some of which were
still red or stages of bright pink of new flesh.
“Do you wanna fuck me now?” he asked seeing some of the pity left in Dean’s
eyes.
the truth was yes… yes he did. And it confused the fucking hell out of him.
Chapter End Notes
     would love to know what you guys think and the direction you want.
***** Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING discussions of past sexual abuse and depictions of
     self-harm
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sam Wesson wasn’t nostalgic, not really. He simply held on very tightly to the
few precious good memories he had of his youth. He remembered what his
childhood was like and there had never been any rose colored glasses. It was
hard. Most of the foster parents he had weren’t purposefully cruel, just
overworked and underpaid. There were always more kids that nice stable homes
for them. The older you got the harder it got to place you. Then there were the
ones that came from their families messed up and afraid. Sometime it was sexual
abuse sometimes it was physical sometimes it was just neglect, those kids
needed more help than they got, that was Sam. In his case it was a combination
of physical abuse and neglect. Meaning his dad drug him cross country,
sometimes literally dragged him, then left him for weeks at a time in random
motel rooms, paid the maid to watch him.
His dad was a corporal in the marines during Vietnam. He’d dropped out of high
school to join the war, and it changed him. Sam’s mother Mary died in a house
fire when Sam was six months old, that changed him too. He’d grown paranoid.
Thought that everyone was out to get him, he became something of a survival
expert. He’d travel the country never staying in one place very long doing odd
jobs off the books, nothing stable or safe for a child as young as Sam. Most of
the information Sam knew about this time was the original court decision to
remove him from his father’s custody. John had been devastated by all accounts.
His old man abandoned him as a child and he felt he would never do the same
thing to his own son. Regardless of what was good for him. Since Mary’s parents
were also deceased that left Sam to foster care till John could shape up. Sure
every now and again his Dad would clean up his act. Convince a judge that he
was a fit parent and he could have Sam back. It happened on three occasions.
The last of which Dean had no knowledge of.  The first was when Sam was seven.
It had been three years since John had lost custody and he’d settled down in
Topeka, working in a garage. Sam had been devastated he barely remembered the
man and what he remembered wasn’t good. He’d cried for Dean way longer than he
would like to admit. At the time it was out of companionship, rather than
hopeless romance. His dad waited a single day before he clouted him. He’d been
whining about missing his foster parents and his friend Dean. Something about
that made John snap. He’d backhanded him across the face and when Sam cried he
had gripped both of his shinny shoulders tight and shook him. “Men don’t cry.”
He’d insisted “They get even.”  Then he’d stepped back waiting for Sam to hit
him back.
Sam wasn’t nostalgic because if he could trade it, he wouldn’t want the memory
of his puny seven-year-old body shaking in the kitchen if some strange house in
Topeka Kansas as a six foot two grown man shouted at him that men get even, men
fight, and he’d tried.
He’d clenched his weak little fist, and flung his tiny body at the man with all
his might.
John had clotheslined him knocking him to the ground, crouching over him his
knee to his chest. Not pressing his full body weight on top of him, but placing
enough that he couldn’t catch his breath. 
“Next time you come at me, you better be ready to win.” John had growled.
He’d took that to heart.
He only stayed with John six months before the caseworker noted bruises. They
placed him back with Dean.
The next time was when Sam was eleven. He’d stayed a year. After the incident
with Kubrick where he’d sent Dean to the hospital they had tried to send Sam,
back to John at this point he’d been living in Santa Monica for four years,
he’d been going to counseling he seemed stable.
Apparently having a son had an adverse effect on the old man.
The year was an education, he learned to fight, he learned to hunt, not just
for sport, how to hunt to survive. His father would take him on trips to the
mountains and leave him in the woods. At the time he had actually been
grateful, for some of the experiences. He remembered how helpless he’d been
when Kubrick beat Dean and how he never wanted anything like that to happen
again to someone he cared about.
He absorbed all the information he could because he knew it wouldn’t last.
It didn’t. John started wondering deeper and deeper into the woods. Staying
weeks at a time. They stayed two months in a tent out in Colorado. Eventually
people started to notice when he didn’t go to school and kept showing up in
hospitals with broken bones… not all of them from hostile camping conditions.
The last was when he was seventeen. Right before graduation. The court decided
to give his dad one last shot, god only knew why.
By this point Sam had fully come to term with his sexuality and wasn’t going to
hide it from anyone. Least of all the raving homophobic toxic masculinity
bullshitter that was his father.
Bobby had been a better role model and father figure that his bio father ever
was and he intended to drive the old man so crazy that he wanted him gone. He
was there for three weeks. Dean was away at college. Sam had begged bobby to
never tell Dean, because after the second time Dean had been ready to kill the
man.
He took the advice his old man gave him when he was seven, and he won.
He walked out of there and hitched a ride back to Singer scrapyard in time for
the last month of school. So no he wasn’t always nostalgic, between him and
Dean there was a lot of history and also a lot of things better left in the
past.
Sam opened the door to his apartment. He was alone. After Dean left he didn’t
have the heart to hook up with anyone.
Anonymous sex wasn’t really his style anyway, it was more Dean’s
He’d also never really had a steady boyfriend for reasons that should now be
obvious to everyone except Dean.
He needed to tell him. he’d sat at the bar drinking way longer then he should
have, considering his shift in the call center started at 8, thinking about
what to do.
He had to tell Dean how he felt. He couldn’t hide it anymore. If Dean didn’t
want to be a part of his life anymore after that then he would know. It
wouldn’t be this question that tinged every facet of their relationship. 
He would do it tomorrow night. If he was lucky maybe Dean would not only come
out of the closet, but care about him in the same way he did.
It was unlikely but a fool could dream couldn’t he?
            His apartment was small, he didn’t make much at the call center and
honestly the only reason he stayed was for Dean. He plopped on the sofa. All
across the coffee table were different brochures for charity, he was thinking
about joining the peace corps. He hadn’t told Dean.
He supposed depending on Dean’s reaction he would know what he wanted to do.
He was drunk and horny. He let his mind wonder.
If Dean said yes, he could fulfill all of his fantasies. Over the years he had
many.
He undid his fly pulling his stiffening cock into his hand. His head dropping
back on to the top of the couch as he begun to slowly pump his cock with his
fisted hand.
He could picture it easily. Sam liked sex, he was flexible he liked anal,
giving or receiving. The same for blowjobs and hand jobs.  He would let Dean
initiate, let Dean decide how he was comfortable, maybe he would have Sam drop
to his knees at the edge of Dean’s bed and take his cock in his mouth. He could
imagine the strangled noise that would slip past him as he teased first
swirling around the head with his tongue before engulfing his cock with his
mouth. Dean’s hands would fist in his hair urging him forward to swallow his
cock faster and faster.
            Sam stroked himself in to the imaginary thrusts of Dean’s cock in
his mouth. He imagined the taste of Dean’s cock the feel of him in his mouth.
Or even better in his ass. He assumed at least at first Dean wouldn’t want
Sam’s cock in his own ass. Sam was more than willing to bed over the arm of the
beautiful white sofa in Dean’s living room his chest pressed against the sofa’s
base. So their three-inch height disparity made no difference, his ass on
display so that Dean could finger him just right before slamming his cock
inside searching for just the right angle to send his prostate quivering.
Sam wished that he was patient enough to live out this fantasy better. He could
go to his bedroom where he had a dildo he could suction cup to the wall. He
would get on his knees and fuck himself against the toy picturing Dean’s cock
as he jerked himself, but he knew he wouldn’t last that long. He was too amped
up. He was breathing heaving panting as his hand was a blur on his cock. It was
pathetic really what made him cum. In his mental image Dean was pounding into
him till he came only to press their body’s together so he could lay a kiss on
the back of Sam’s nape and whisper I love you.
Sam barely had time to pull his t-shit up as he came, the cum splashing across
his stomach and chest. He gasped for breath cum dripping across his abs. God he
hoped Dean said yes. The alternative was a life time of this.
                                      ***
Castiel wasn’t vain, not really. He knew he looked good. There was a
difference. He knew oftentimes he could skate by on his looks. A smile at a
bouncer there, a few flirtatious winks there. Even his goth attire opened doors
for him in places. He looked dangerous or mysterious. A mystique he cultivated
by sullen looks and brooding silences. The look on Dean’s face was different
than the one he expected and it pissed him off.  Oh sure there was lust on his
face as his eyes skimmed across his chest, down his ribs lingering at the v of
his pelvis. However, there was predominantly pity.
“What happened?” Dean asked.
Self-consciously Cas grabbed for his discarded shirt and held it against his
chest.
“A business disagreement.” He shot back. Why was he disappointed that the man
didn’t immediately start groping him?
“And your wrist?” he wondered quietly.
Cas glanced down at it almost forgetting what he was talking about.
“Kitchen accident, I can be a bit of a butter fingers sometimes.”
“I’ll remember that if we get a chance to cook this weekend.” Dean laughed, but
the mirth didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe him. He didn’t want to be
humored, he didn’t want to be coddled. He wanted to be moved, to feel
something.
Cas decided that he was just put off by his ‘vulnerable’ state he just needed
to get the man’s engines revved up. He dropped his shirt and sauntered towards
the man straddling his waist he lowered himself into the other man’s lap.
It was clear that he was startled by his actions he held his hands up at his
side.
“Aw you don’t gotta do that.” Cas commented laughingly as he grabbed the man’s
hands pulling them around his body so that he had two handfuls of his ass.
Pressing closers against him. undulating gently.
“Stop.” Dean swore softly, but he didn’t remove his hands.
Cas held perfectly still against him smiling.
The kid was grinning ear to ear.  Looking so damn cocky and proud of himself.
It reminded him how young he was.
“Get off.” Dean growled.
The kid had the audacity to wink at him.
“If you insist.” He smirked. Rocking his hips forward, the pressure of his body
grinding against his flaccid cock. It didn’t take much these days to get him
going. He’d been celibate for two months and after months of getting laid six
ways from Sunday every day of the week it was an abrupt change.
He instantly begun to grow hard.
“It’s just friction.” He maintained defensively unsure why he felt the need to
defend his growing erection rather than push him off of him like he’d intended.
“True.” Cas agreed nodding his head solemnly.
“Completely genderless friction that’s getting you hard.”
It was actually turning him on a little bit too, if Cas was being honest. That
was unusual, he never got fully hard during sex. He usually blamed it on the E
or that he’d lose an erection during anal without stimulation which happened to
a lot of guys, but it was actually because his cock didn’t feel a part of him.
The dissociation the shrink talked about, he had it in spades. Sex was
something that happened to him not something that he participated in. This was
oddly different. The man beneath him wasn’t grabbing his hips grinding him
harder against him. He was barely cupping his ass. He was holding perfectly
still his eyes had drifted shut and he was biting his lip against a groan that
started deep in his chest before slowly escaping his mouth.  Cas was in control
and it was nice.
Dean bit his lip and gritted his teeth against his movements, god it was good.
He hadn’t fucking dry humped since junior high. He’d lost his virginity at
fourteen to a girl who was a year older than he was. Looking back, he hadn’t
been emotionally ready for sex, and neither had she, but that’s what happens
when kids are never explained the impact of sex and are simply left alone to
explore the changing and very confusing needs of their bodies.  Dean knew he
was likely unusual. After all he’d been masturbating since he was nine years
old. Admittedly at first he didn’t know it was masturbating. He didn’t cum he
just felt good. The pleasure and the pressure it was interesting.  It surprised
the holy hell out of him the first time he came. He never expected anything to
come out.
Dean didn’t move, he knew he should stop him. Cas was clearly damaged, he
deserved more than Dean’s cock deciding that yeah it would be up for fucking
him. He deserved someone who could help him with all the trauma this kid was
undoubtedly going through. He didn’t know his story, didn’t have to. He knew
hundreds of stories of kids over the years. brothers, cousins, uncles,
babysitters, daycare workers, teachers, it didn’t matter who perpetrated the
abuse, all that mattered was it happened and if they didn’t make a conscious
decision to move on they never would. Dean probably needed to listen to his own
advice and get over his hang up and admit he was bisexual, but a nagging
portion of his brain refused.  
Cas was hard. At first he didn’t believe it. He never got hard anything except
his own hand and even then it could be an arduous process. Cutting was usually
more rewarding than masturbating. He was starting to wonder if Dean had magic
powers when he was triggered.
Dean touched his hair. He was probably just being nice, removing a stray bit of
hair from his face. The contact was over before it really even started, but he
was instantly gone.
He felt cold and kind of shaky. A shuddering started beneath his skin and
spread out his entire body until he was no longer inside of it.  
Dean could immediately sense the change over the other man. He stiffened and
was trembling above him. He eyes were glazed his expression distant. He stopped
smiling he was reflecting inwardly.
“Cas?” someone was calling him, but it was far away. He was floating above his
body. He kept rocking back and forth, a steady rhythm. Something was tingling.
He tried to focus on the sensation. It was his hand. Why was his hand tingling?
He looked down at it. Dean was squeezing his hand. He realized it should
probably be hurting rather than tingling. He tried to focus on it. He wasn’t
really sure the hand was connected to him.
He leapt up nearly falling as he backed away too fast.
“That’s just a preview.” He insisted loudly. Chuckling as he did. Trying to
retain some of his perfected bravado.
“The main event is much better.” His words were drawn to tight, violin strings
about to snap.
Dean was staring at him a strange expression on his face. It was fucking
awkward.
“Do you got a bathroom?” Cas asked feeling oddly exposed.
There was this weird ringing in his ears he was pretty sure it was the pounding
of the blood to his heart. He needed to get to a bathroom and force the flash
backs away before it got worse.  
Then without waiting for Dean to answer he walked towards the hallway. One of
these rooms had to be a bathroom the first was the empty guest room the bed was
ready for guests but it was clearly ornamental rarely if ever slept in.
The next door was the bathroom. He hurried inside locking the handle. There was
something reassuring about the click of the door. He was alone and whatever
might be dangerous was outside.
He slowly sank to the floor. He reached in the pocket of his jeans he had his
cut kit in there.  It was a flat black vinyl pencil bag that he could fold and
roll everything up into. His hands were shaking. “Shit.” He swore to himself as
he dropped his kit it was the worst trigger he’d had in years. He’d been so
numb for so long. He’d started cutting to feel rather than conceal.
He pulled out everything he needed. Laying them carefully out in front of him.
His alcohol pads, his razor blade, gauze. He took the alcohol swab and ran it
over his right forearm, and the blade. He didn’t usually cut with his left hand
it was clumsier than with his dominate hand and he tended to make a mess of
things, but the cuts on his left wrist were too fresh to cut over again.
He positioned the blade on his forearm directly beneath the bend of his elbow
and pressed down sliding slowly. He wasn’t trying to kill himself he never was
he just needed to see the blood. To remind him that his arm was a part of him.
That it was still attached that he wasn’t dead. It was easy to follow. He had
already left many pink or faded lines there over the years. He didn’t wanna
here her voice in his head anymore god damn it. It had been years so many years
why did he have that one perfect clear loop of her hateful horrendous voice in
his head. 
{Be a good boy for mommy ok?}
His heart was beating so fast he thought that it might fly out of his chest. He
shuddered again his second cut slightly deeper than the first as his hand
slipped, he hissed clenching his teeth. He watched the blood drip on the white
and grey tile of the bathroom floor. Too deep.
“Cas?” a voice called out from the other side of the door.
“I’ll be out in a second.” He called out as he quickly added two more slashes
to his garden of pain.
“Are you ok?” followed a hesitant reply.
No if he was being honest, he wasn’t ok. He was a mess. He could have sex
except he couldn’t have pleasure. The first second he started enjoying himself
the force of it all came raging back to the surface. He didn’t deserve
pleasure. Ultimately that was the problem. He felt guilty. It took forever for
him to be able to get to the point where he could even masturbate. He would
start to feel good then he’d think that see this does feel good she was right
to touch him like this he did like it. He deserved it. Sex was just something
he did, something he had to do. It was a compulsion. Sex was what he knew best.
When he wanted comfort he fucked, when he was lonely he fucked hell sometimes
when he was hungry he fucked. It didn’t mean anything it was just how the world
talked to him and how he knew how to interact with the world.
Then why did he want things to be different? The question came to him unbidden
Why did he picture a world where he had a boyfriend one that didn’t just use
him as a fuck toy? One that didn’t fuck him like he was just a willing hole,
but a person. One that was kind and sweet, but not at all like his mother.
She had never used physical force on him, never had to really he’d been
indoctrinated since he was three. She had been quiet and soft spoken; bruises
might have alerted child services a lot sooner. Gentle might have been a word
to describe it, but the same gentleness one sees from a hunter feeding the deer
before slaughtering it. It was easier than violence.
He paused the blade. His hands were still shuddering but his breathing and
heartrate had begun to slow.
“I’m gonna take that shower now.” He called out remembering there was a man on
the other side of the door.
Dean leaned against the door listening to the kid move around in the bathroom
as he started to get the shower ready. Dean wasn’t gay, at least not really he
was bisexual. He knew it, but he wasn’t an asshole. He wanted this kid in a
very selfish way, but he knew better. He wasn’t sure how he could help him, but
he wanted to now more than ever. Maybe he could pick up some books online while
he was at work.
He didn’t need to be told to see that this kid was a survivor of sexual abuse.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He called out into the bathroom. There was
no response. He hoped that the kid wouldn’t kill him or rob him blind in his
sleep. He hoped that he would stay. He wanted to help him. He wanted to have
sex with him too but that wasn’t what was important right now. This was
suddenly the most important thing in his life in the last six years.
His life… it was exactly what he always wanted it to be, and he hated it.
It was boring, profoundly so. He could make a difference. he’d had nobody
willing to look out for him till he met Bobby Singer. He’d only lived with the
man thirteen months before he aged out of the system, but that didn’t seem to
matter to the man. He offered him a job, and a place to stay saying he could
live at the house with him while he saved up money to go to college. He helped
him with his scholarship essays, Bobby Singer may not have been well educated
but the man was well read. He didn’t have that to offer the boy but he could
offer him money and a shoulder to cry on till he got on his feet.
He went to his closet and pulled out two sets of his pajamas he set one on the
edge of the guest bed. There were towels in the bathroom. He could hear the
sound of the shower running. He wanted to check on him again but he knew the
kid didn’t trust him. He was like a wild animal, if he left him cornered he
would only attack. He needed to put the ball in the kid’s court. Someone took
away all of his power when he was small and vulnerable and he had never been
able to get it back.  Dean wanted to change that.
He changed into a pair of jet black silk pajamas pants he stared at the pajama
top for five seconds before tossing it aside it was way too hot anyway.
He climbed in bed and tried to sleep. As he expected he couldn’t. It was going
to be a difficult morning.
 
The water was pink. The black tile felt cool against his forehead as he hot
water misted around him. the only sound was the spray of the water. The shower
felt fantastic, but he should stop. He could see the pink water gather at his
feet. He should bandage himself. It could be dangerous to keep bleeding. He
didn’t move.  He couldn’t go through with this. Not bandaging himself, but this
strange seduction scenario.  He couldn’t have sex like that.  He was a wham bam
thankyou ma’am
He had to leave… fuck the money.                     
Who was he kidding?  He wouldn’t leave. He turned off the water even though he
still felt profoundly dirty.  It was the kind of taint that would never wash
off. His mother touched him, in ways no mother should ever touch a child. That
was his legacy. He begun inspecting his arm. One cut was deeper than the
others, he reached into the bag again and applied his alcohol whips and
disinfectant cream. He was methodical. The largest cut was given a butterfly
closure before he would the gauze around his arm finally he pressed the white
bandage in place and affixed it with medical tape. He left the bathroom feeling
very tired.
 
He glanced down the hall. He should just join Dean in bed convince him to fuck
him against the wall, that had to be as close of a scenario as the alley as he
could get. Then he’d take his 500 bucks and go.
he wouldn’t he continued back to the guest room. Piled at the edge of the bed
was a set of sapphire blue silk pajamas.  He stared at the bed. Guess these
sheets must be too nice to rub your junk all over them. He quickly changed into
the new clothes.
The silk felt absolutely amazing against his skin. He glanced over at the
mirror above the dresser.
He looked like a drowned raccoon. His eye makeup had washed away leaving just a
bleary ring of eye liner around his eyes, the bruise beneath his eye was
starting to look a nice bluish purple color. There was a cut directly beneath
his eyes which would likely scar. That’s all he needed another scar, he just
supposed he should feel lucky no one jerked any of his piercings out. He
ruffled his hair with the towel trying to dry it. His brunette roots were
growing in.  It made him want to crack the mirror. He looked like his father.
Or at least that was what his mother always told him. God only knew if that was
true the man was gone. He was never too clear on if he died or if he left
before he was born or if it was some kind of immaculate conception. There was
just a picture up on the mantel that he looked more and more like everyday.
Which was probably another reason if he needed one that he wasted money on dye
jobs, makeup, piercings and tattoos because he didn’t want to look like that
nuclear family poster child.
He looked nothing like his mother thank god. Except his eyes. She’d been petite
with blond hair and blue eyes. He’d been slightly taller than her five feet
three inches when they took him away at thirteen.
She died of breast cancer when he was seventeen.  The bitch had the audacity to
send him a letter asking him to visit her before she died. It was a fluke he
even got the letter. He’d been moving around so long, he got a call from one of
the fast food joints he used to work at that he had mail. Where did he want it
forwarded to? He figured it was a check, but it was her letter.
It took him half a bottle of vodka and six stiches before he opened the letter
  She said she was sorry. He supposed that it should mean something to him,
that at least eventually she realized what she was doing was wrong. That court
ordered therapy in prison must really have done wonders. It didn’t though,
matter to him, because it took him seven fucking years before he realized what
she was doing to him was wrong. Here he was a lost ten-year-old little boy who
didn’t know that the way his mommy loved him was wrong. That there was a reason
he felt sick all the time a reason he hated himself. Just because he knew it
was wrong didn’t mean he could stop her. It was years of systematic trained
behavior.
                                                                             
Objectively from an outsider it might be easy to say just over power her. Run
away. Just don’t let her touch you. It might sound silly to say but it never
occurred to him that he had to power to make her stop.
Chapter End Notes
     sorry guys when I started this I had no idea how dark it was gonna
     get. Hopefully you can stick with me and the characters until they
     get a happy ending.
***** Everything in moderation, including moderation. *****
Chapter Notes
     A bit more fluffy than the last chapter. trying not to have a heal
     face turn on Dean's decision to accept his sexuality it will most
     likely be a start and stop process.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dean’s alarm was going off. The buzz felt like it was trying to burrow its way
into his head. In the back of his brain he knew he needed to get up, but his
mind continued to swim fuzzily just below the surface of consciousness on the
level where one tried to interpret the sound as part of the dream. He was
hearing sirens. Blearily he opened one eye. He was tired, but it shouldn’t have
been any worse than any other night. Objectively he might have actually gotten
more sleep. He jerked off at one thirty and it helped him finally fall asleep.
There were nights he got four or three hours.
 He was actually impressed with himself. He’d looked at only men, during his
porn perusal including anal maybe he could get over this mental block after
all.  
He slid out of the bed and the events of last night hit him full force.  Cas
was likely in his guest bedroom or long gone.
He quickly dressed for the day selecting a burgundy dress shirt and black
suspenders, tie jacket and slacks. He felt very influenced by Cas’s style the
moment he glanced at the mirror.  
He hesitated at the door to the guest bedroom. He normally made himself an
expresso and a juice smoothie in the morning but he had company. Should he make
Cas coffee? He didn’t have time to make him a full breakfast. He wanted to
laugh. This wasn’t company and since when did he make company breakfast? The
only people he had over in the last three years since he and Lisa broke up were
Sam one night stands and now Cas. So yeah, Cas was company on the sheer fact
alone that it occurred to him that he might want breakfast, and not just rush
him out the door with a disposable cup of coffee.
He knocked.
Cas jerked awake at the sound of a knock, shit did he over sleep? His stuff
would be packed in his duffle so he need not worry there he could leave in a
hurry but if he missed check out he couldn’t afford another night.
Then again the sheets against his body felt much nicer than normal. Smooth and
slippery like warm water. His body aching was too real however to be a dream.
His arm felt like he had stuck it in a patch of stinging nettles, but that was
normal after the cut.
“Can I come in?” a voice asked.
Cas took in the room, this wasn’t the seedy motel room he normally stayed in.
This was Dean’s guest room.
“um…” Cas begun hesitating, “Yeah.”
Dean opened the door. The boy was sprawled out on the bed wearing the borrowed
pjs, that were a bit too big on him. Most of the makeup was gone all that
remained was a thin layer of eye liner and bruises.  He looked delectable, more
and more the kid reenforced that he was lying to himself. All dean wanted to do
was take off this monkey suit and slid into bed with him. it didn’t even have
to be for sex. he looked like he could use a good cuddle and it had been a long
time since he simply held someone in his arms. Lisa maybe? No not really,
eventually they had always had sex. it was the one thing that worked in their
relationship. Sam it had to have been Sammy when they were kids.
Cas watched the other man he seemed to have forgotten why he came in the room.
He looked dapper, was about the only way to put it. Like someone from a jazz
era swing club, there was a fetish he didn’t know he had, but his look had
appeal.
“was there something you wanted?” he asked strangle polite.
His hair was mussed Dean noted. He liked it he could tell now with the daylight
that it was dyed black rather than natural, but he didn’t care.  
Dean cleared his throat. “Do you want a breakfast smoothie?”
Cas blinked surprised “Sure.”
He followed Dean into the kitchen shutting the guestroom door behind him, it
was early, he knew if he stayed he would probably go back to sleep, if this
wasn’t Dean kicking him out now.
He watched as Dean moved about the kitchen perhaps that threat about cooking
wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities he did seem at home in the kitchen.
He sat at a bar stool on the opposite side of the kitchen from Dean.
He pulled out a coffee grinder
“Coffee?” Dean asked “It’s Kenyan.” Cas nodded fascinated did every rich person
know where their coffee was grown.
He watched as Dean methodically ground the beans in quick spirts while water
was heated on the stove in a kettle. He poured ground coffee in a glass
cylinder shaking it slightly before adding the water filling it halfway before
stirring and adding the remaining water depressing the plunger in the lid.
Spiced green tea smoothie ok?" Dean asked. Cas just continued to nod in
amazement
 A man he didn’t sleep with was making him breakfast, not that the ones he did
sleep with made his breakfast either.
Normally he would read the paper in the morning as he made his coffee sometime
French press like today other times, expresso or latte. Today he had company.
“What did you want to do when I get home?” Dean asked as he chopped up a pear.
Cas hadn’t really thought about it. He assumed they would try to fuck again. He
was feeling better less shaky or disassociated but he still wasn’t sure he
could go through with it the way Dean wanted.
“I assume screwing is off the menu?” Dean hissed as he nicked his hand with the
blade.
“Sorry.” Cas added. As he noticed. “It’s fine.” He was barely bleeding it was
more of a surprise than anything.
“I’ll be right back.” Cas insisted moving quickly back to the bedroom.
Dean had been trying to make conversation, but he knew he had a point what was
he gonna do with Cas? He seemed fine waiting but also he was so used to trading
sex he wasn’t sure if he knew any different.
He returned brandishing a tan bandage.
“What are you a nurse?” Cas winked “Something like that.”
“Alright than Florence here you go.”
Dean wasn’t sure why he childishly stuck his finger out towards him. He was an
adult he could bandage his own damn finger but it was too late. Cas was
stepping around the bar. He took his hand in his surprisingly soft hands. His
heart skipped a beat. He could not be this easily effected by a single touch.
This kid was getting under his skin like no one else ever had… no one besides
Sam.
Cas carefully wound the band aide around his injured digit. For a man with a
desk job his hands were rough and calloused. At least at one point in his life
he’d worked with his hands. He liked that, he found himself curious about the
man’s past. It was surreal.
“Thank you.” Dean commented his voice slightly thicker than normal.
Cas grinned, slightly before returning to the other side of the bar.
He poured the coffee into two steaming mugs.  Dean proceeded to blow on his
briefly before taking a sip.
“Milk?” Cas asked “Is rice milk ok?” the boy snorted.
“What are you vegan?” he was surprised by Dean’s slight blush. As he returned
with a small pitcher of green tea and a box of rice milk.
“Trying to stay healthy,” he replied before lowering his hands to, from what
Cas had felt, non-existent gut. “It’s a sedentary lifestyle.”
“I know a few good ways to exercise.” Cas continued flirtatiously pouring a
dash of milk into his coffee, before taking a sip.
It was bitter and strong, the rice milk unfamiliarly watery comparatively but
oddly sweeter.
He felt oddly safe flirting with him, maybe because he clearly had to go to
work and likely didn’t have time to fuck him.
Dean started adding things to the blender he added the tea, chunked pear, some
kind of yellowish clear syrup, lemon juice, ice cubes, yoghurt and…”
“What is that?”
“Cayenne pepper” Dean informed with a grin, “Gives it a bit of a kick, plus it
boosts metabolism.”
Cas shook his head.
“You’re weird.” “What?” He insisted exuberantly “It’s good, trust me.”
Cas knew he said it casually. He didn’t mean trust him with everything or about
anything really, but the tiniest part of him imagined that Dean might be the
kind of guy a normal person could trust.
It was good. It was sweet but strangely spicy at the same time as he sipped his
through a straw. He was watching Dean as his poured his into a to go cup and he
quickly chugged his coffee. He kind of didn’t want him to leave. That was a
first. Normally he wanted people to get the fuck gone and out of his space,
maybe because it wasn’t his space.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. My brother and I were gonna go out tonight for
my birthday.”
“It’s your birthday?” Cas interrupted.
Dean ducked his head rubbing the back of his neck before glancing back up. 
“Yeah.”
“How old are you?” he wondered genuinely curious.
“Far too old for you.” Cas raised a brow. “ I’m turning thirty.” He continued
with a sigh.
“I’ve been with older.” Cas dismissed. His eyes meeting Dean’s
 “Well I’ve never been with someone that much younger then.” He sustained
chuckling
“Well maybe tonight you can start.” Cas offered, and yeah he was getting paid
but it was more than that. There was something vulnerable about that
confession, and he knew he he’d never been with a man. He had basically said as
much. Maybe he could go through with this, after all.  
Dean wanted to say he was a better man than that, that the kids offer didn’t
intrigue him at all, but it was a lie.  He wanted him. On a purely base
physical level but there was also something else. He was damned if he knew what
it was but, this kid had easily wormed his way in. maybe it was because they
were both without a real family growing up. He didn’t know what circumstances
that caused Cas to be out on the street selling drugs and himself but a lack of
a family had to be one of the reasons.
“I’ll be back. If you get hungry there is vegie pizza in the freezer not
healthy I know but a man has to have pizza.”
He nodded.
“Help yourself to the TV, or whatever. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yeah.”                                                                                               
“What’s your number? I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.”
Cas didn’t want to ask if he was allowed to leave. He knew he wasn’t a prisoner
but he also knew Dean would expect him to be here when he got back, plus it
wasn’t like he had money or anywhere to go for that matter.
He put his number in Dean’s phone and waved him off like the proper 50’s house
wife. He supposed when he got home he was supposed to greet him with a martini
and sex.
Cas looked around the apartment, was this the part where he was supposed to
raid the liquor cabinet and medicine cabinet and rifle through his underwear
drawer?  He valiantly fought the urge to snoop. He didn’t win he wasn’t good
with temptation. Plus, he said to help himself.
Cas wondered around the apartment his smoothie in one hand which he casually
sipped from. Last night he’d thought of the apartment as bland without soul,
but now he noticed a few things here and there. A picture on the bookshelf of a
very young Dean and younger boy he had his arm around the kid they were both
grinning in front of a broken down car. Dean was wearing blue coveralls but
they were down around his waist leaving him in just a white tank shirt. The
other boy was small with darker brown hair. He seemed sad. Or at least sadder
than Dean who was grinning widely. A bearded surly looking older man with a
trucker hat stood to the side of the car.  His family?
There was also a stack of car magazines next to the sofa, practically hidden
beneath, a stack of Forbes, who even read magazines any more…He assumed the
same guy that had a subscription the Times, yesterday’s paper lay on the coffee
table he hadn’t noticed that last night, and also owned seventeen… he’d
counted, Sudoku puzzle books.
Time for some standard snooping. Cas turned on the TV, and went straight to the
DRV. It was a strange combination of Game of Thrones, Project Runway Clint
Eastwood's movies and shows about fixing cars.
He flipped it back off. He didn’t see a discernable liquor cabinet, but he
could look for that later. The bathroom housed only men’s multivitamins and a
collection of shaving accessories. He sniffed the aftershave. It was nice.
Masculine. If he had to shave more he would have used it. He was blessed or
cursed either way with a real lack of facial hair.
He took another sip of the smoothie and he walked into the bedroom. It smelled
like Dean the rest of the house smelled like linen, but this was where he
really lived. It smelled like his cologne. He made his bed. Cas reflected that
as a guest he should probably make his.  He set the smoothie down on the
nightstand.
He stuck his head his closet mostly crisp dress shirts there was a series of
drawers built into the closet.
“So I’m really are gonna rifle though his underwear drawer?” he asked himself
aloud as he walked inside. He skipped the top drawer and opened the others. T-
shits mostly plain but the top on was a soft looking well-loved black Led
Zeppelin shirt.
He closed the drawer softly he couldn’t resist. He opened the top drawer it was
mostly what he expected. Various pairs of boxers in an array of colors, what
intrigued him was the one pair of pink satiny panties. Yeah that was
interesting. They were either some weird trophy or his and Cas liked the idea
better his. He tucked them back in the corner and tried really hard not to
picture Dean in them.
Back in the bedroom he noticed a laptop on his desk and he continued snooping.
Rather than sit at the desk he scooped up the pc and plopped down on the bed.
Cas flipped open the laptop and knew it was destiny because it wasn’t password
protected. Dean’s background picture was a black Chevy impala.
Cas pulled up internet browser history
“Someone’s been a bad boy.” He commented to himself.   Admittedly most of the
history from the last couple of days was mostly business seeming stuff.
Something about net profit and client retention rate and yada yada, but this
morning told a different story.  He clicked on the link entitled sailor’s big
night. It sent him straight into porn. The man on the screen was slowly
stroking his massive cock. The angle was clear so you could get a full look at
his body and his cock as he stroked himself till he came.
 Cas clicked the next one entitled Solowank7. This time the camera was
positioned on the floor and the man was standing, a black cock-ring situated
around his base encompassing both his cock and his balls. He stroked his cock
quickly a few time before turning around and bending slightly spreading his ass
cheeks to show the wide base of an anal plug, before bringing his cock to the
camera again, moaning and grunting loudly as he squatted down slightly so that
the camera got the best view of the cum spilling from his cock.
The last was just entitled dildo in ass, it showed a man kneeling over a flesh
colored dildo bouncing up and down on it, moaning.
So yeah Dean liked men. Cas could get behind that, no pun intended, he liked
men too.
He found himself way too preoccupied with picturing exactly how Dean
masturbated. Did he do it right here in bed? Lean back get comfortable with his
cock in his hand slowly stoking himself
 He found himself getting hard picturing it. Wow Dean really was magic; did he
have the on switch to his dick that he didn’t know about? He was starting to
consider masturbating himself when he heard the front door close. He froze.
What would Dean do if he found him in his room? what would someone else do if
the found him in Dean’s room. Who would even show up at his place? Shit he’d
never gotten around to the did he have a girlfriend with a key phase? he closed
out the windows on the computer and was about to hide in the closet… not the
irony wasn’t lost on him… when a woman opened the door.
She looked just as surprised to see him as he was her. She was young probably
around his age possibly a little younger actually.  She was short compared to
him average height for a woman somewhere in the 5’4 or 5’5 range. A mass of
dirty blond curls, lighter than Dean’s but unlike Dean she didn’t have his
bright vivid green eyes. They were a rich chocolate brown.
She wore a black tank with a tan mess overlaying in the shape of a skull and
crossbones paired with black jeans. She raised a hand to her face in surprise
her bracelets rattling as she did so.
“I’m so sorry” she commented quickly.
That let him adjust his assessment. Most likely not girlfriend, they didn’t
usually apologize when they found someone else in their lover’s bed.
“I didn’t think anyone would be home.”  She added she lingered unsurely at the
entrance clearly unsure if she should cross forward or not.
Cas assumed his stunned expression was an answer in his own uncertainty.
“I’m Jo…” she informed him clearly deciding on her approach as he walked
towards the bed. When he didn’t immediately recognize the name she continued
“Dean’s sister.”
“oh!” He replied breathlessly. She grinned.
“or did you two not get that far?” she teased indicating the bed.
 He smiled awkwardly accepting her kindness.
“The name part or the part that he had a sister cause we only made it too the
first one.”
She laughed loudly. “Yeah that sounds like him, but consider yourself ahead, I
have never caught anyone else in his bed.” And oddly he did even if he’d never
been invited into his bed. 
“Do you come here often?” he wondered unsurely
She laughed again. “Free Wi-Fi?”
He swallowed uncomfortably. It was a habit of his he had such trouble with new
people he really did she sniggered “nah I came to set up Dean’s surprise
party.”
“For his birthday.” Cas supplied understanding
She paused watching him assessing “He told you it was his birthday.”
“It came up over breakfast.” Cas admitted. This was awkward at least his
erection went down.
“He cooked you breakfast?” she asked astounded
“Well he made me coffee and a smoothie” he amended
She waved his explanation off.
“That’s all he eats for breakfast anymore… that’s interesting.”
“You’re not…” Cas cleared his throat. “Surprised I’m a guy?” she waved him off
again
“Please the only one who would be surprised by that would be Dean.”
Cas moved away.
“No honey please I didn’t mean it against you Dean he’s just well he’s so far
in the closet he’s tripping over Christmas presents.”
“Oh.” Cas said again
“Fuck, did you not know that?” she asked sitting on the edge of the bed
“It came up.”  He admitted.
The awkward silence was palpable. “What else did my brother say?” she wondered.
“he said I could crash here and I’d see him when he got home.”
Her expression was disbelief. “My brother said that? Are you sure you’re
talking about Dean and not Sam. The shorter one with a corporate stick up his
ass right not the tall one with longer hair?”
“There was someone taller than Dean in this family?”
Jo Harvelle stared on in hopeful amazement. Not only had Dean taken a guy home
which was a feat on its own. He’d invited him to stay another night. Jo had met
a total of three girls Dean ever dated. Cassie Robinson, Anna Milton and Lisa
Braeden while she had met him by accident she knew one thing about her foster
brother. People moved in and out of his love life without interacting with the
rest of his life at all. This guy was different besides that fact that he was a
guy, he was wearing Dean’s pjs sitting on Dean’s bed and short of being a
creepy stalker who broke in. Dean let him in, his life and his bed nobody
stayed the night at his apartment he didn’t even give it up when he and Lisa
got married he’d stay in the apartment during the week and with her on weekends
because it was long commute to the suburbs in theory.  This kid meant something
to dean one night stand or not, if Jo had any say in it not.
“What’s your name?” she asked jovially “Cas.”
“Cas you wanna help plan a birthday party?”
                                      ***
Dean road the elevator up to his office, the elevator music doing nothing to
kill his mood. He was actually having a good birthday so far. Breakfast was
fun. He should do that more often. Then again the women he usually brought home
weren’t the same level of company. Not that he didn’t have a great respect for
women he did, but when he took a woman home they both knew what they wanted a
nice fun athletic kinky night and then to never speak to each other again till
the next time.
It was easier that way than trying to form a meaningful relationship.
He walked into his office around six thirty. the traffic was light today so he
was actually a bit early. He decided he would spend his first half hour
researching what to do about Cas.
After five minutes he knew this wasn’t a topic he could solve in a weekend and
honestly he knew that long before he started looking, but from his quick
perusal he’d gathered three things.
Cas had been robbed of the chance to say no to sex. His understanding of
consent and sex was warped, by the abuse. He needed to learn to say no before
he could say yes. Well four things really. Dean wanted to be the kind of man
who could work things through with him. Maybe they really could work through
things together, but only if they started over. There was a power discrepancy
in this relationship. He was a keen negotiator he knew what that meant for any
negotiations he would have the upper hand, he needed to level the playing field
give Cas some power back.
Dean wanted to be with a man. He was sure of it now, but he had no idea how to
go about it or at what pace he would be able to do it. While his issues were
not based on sexual abuse there was still abuse present. He’d been so afraid of
being ‘gay’ or liking men for so long that he absorbed it as who he was. Maybe
it wasn’t taking advantage of Cas if they could work together, if he could do
it at his pace. It all depended on Cas after all.
Ignore their strange start and maybe he could actually help him out. He’d give
him the money tonight and give him the same offer as before but without the
money. Stay the weekend and let’s work this through together and maybe if he
would stay longer maybe they could figure this out.  Put the power in Cas’s
hands. Dean wouldn’t rush him. If nothing happened he would be fine with that,
the more he thought about it the more he realized it was what he wanted.
He purchased a few books about healing after sexual abuse on his tablet to read
later at his leisure.
 He checked his schedule and texted Sam he should be getting up soon to go to
work. Today he shouldn’t have to stay long he might be able to get out by 3:30
one of the perks of being the boss, Sam worked an 8 hour shift so if he timed
it right they would be off about the same time maybe they could have a late
lunch.
                                      ***
Sam stared at his phone. Willing the time to be different. He woke on the sofa
around 3:00 took a shower to wash his own cum off his body and went to bed. It
was now seven and he needed to get his ass in gear if he was gonna make it to
work on time. 
He had a text from Dean, he was reminded again of his decision and his
excitement at finally telling Dean the truth.
He tossed on his pale yellow polo and kakis with slightly less hate than usual.
The polo was tight on his frame but he didn’t care.  He just wanted to make it
through today. Dean said that he would be done early tonight maybe they could
catch lunch.
He supposed it was his shot to tell him the truth except he knew what would be
waiting for Dean when he got back to his apartment. Jo had taken it upon
herself to throw Dean a surprise party. As much as he knew ultimately Jo would
support them the idea of Jo waiting for them at the house after he spilled his
guts to Dean was awful. If Dean rejected him, it was another awkward situation
for him to sit through and if Dean accepted it. It was even more time before
they would finally be able to have sex. he knew that was a bit premature on his
part but he had been fantasying about the man for the better part of a decade. 
No he would wait till after the party.
                                      ***
Cas had to hand it to Jo the place looked nice. She’d hung blue streamers
across the room and out up signs different iterations of the number 30 over and
over. He couldn’t help, but smile something about it was funny. Especially
considering how sore Dean was over being older than him. He had to admit
setting up this party laying out the chips and the drinks picking out music. It
made him feel special. In a weird way. It was so far from his comfort zone it
made Antarctica look like a regular vacation joint.  He had never seen someone
so dedicated to family. Now he had a difficult relationship to family, given
his circumstances but he’d found that things were different between Jo and
Dean. She idolized the man she went on and on about his volunteer work and his
dedication to family and his job, she even mentioned an ex-wife. None of it was
really news to Cas something like 50 percent of marriages ended in divorce now
days and it wasn’t weird that Dean was one of them, plus one look around his
place it was easy to see Dean was dedicated to his job, what did surprise him
was the fact that Dean was her foster brother, not blood. The same with their
brother Sam. It seemed they had an entirely different experience with the
foster care system than he did. Not that he really gave it much of a chance or
that his relationship with his blood relatives was any better.
He knew that even though something terrible happened to him he didn’t want to
be a victim anymore. Sometimes he set himself up to be used but it was up to
him. This weekend with Dean felt like that. He knew it was Dean’s proposition,
but he still felt like it was his mistake to make.
At first he’d been leery of Jo, he didn’t really like people seeing him without
his clothes on. He’d changed into a pair of black jeans and another T shirt, it
sported a woman with black hair and white wings spread wide inside a cathedral.
A gothic angel. After a short amount of time when he decided she wasn’t going
to proposition him or attack him he let his guard down a little.
“How long have you known Dean?” Jo asked as she pulled the pie from the oven. 
She had said no cake would make her brother break his diet, but an à la Mode
apple pie would. 
“Not Very long…”  he admitted
“You?” he wondered. “Pretty much all my life. He was twelve when my dad took
him in.”
“Your father?” he asked surprised.
“Yeah well only biologically.” She added with a nervous laugh.
“Hhe was an asshole.”
Cas couldn’t help but laugh. It bubbled out of him without his command “I can
relate.”
She glanced at his slyly it was clear she was fishing for information about
him. it stood to reason she was just looking out for her brother.
While he’d never really had that kind of experience, he knew some people did.
“Your father?”
He shook his head. “no, my… bio mother.” He continued he always struggled on
what to call her. She was his mother, but in so many ways in all the ways that
mattered she wasn’t. She was his abuser, but calling her that drew attention to
what she did and he knew better than to tell strangers.
At best he got sympathetic disgusted looks at worst the pitied him and yet
still managed to ask him revolting questions like he had a guy once ask him if
he came when she touched him. Like what the actual fuck? Do you think he would
have this sick twisted mixed up and confused reaction to pleasure if she
didn’t? that was what made it worse. His body responded even as his mind
rebelled now he couldn’t get either one of them to work.
She nodded sympathetically.
“He used to beat Dean.”  She imparted quietly
“Your dad?” he asked knowing the answer.
“Yeah,” she wasn’t looking at him while she was talking she was busying about
in the kitchen. With the pie, setting up a cooling rack. The air smelled
fragrant like baked apples and cinnamon it added character to the room.
“That is why he has trouble… with… with liking men.”
Cas focused on her words. When he met Dean he’d pictured this man whose life
had been picture perfect till now. White picket fence, great job, great house
now he was seeing deeper.
“My father broke Dean’s arm when he was seventeen cause he found a playgirl
under the bed, he was in the hospital for days. They kept him in a medically
induced coma for the first 12 hours because he had a concussion when my father
threw him against the wall. He became combative when they were trying to treat
him. He was still trying to fight off the paramedics, his scalp was split open
it was superficial, but there was so much blood.” She had this far off
expression as she listed off his injuries as if she could still picture it.
“I was very little, four or five, but I remember it vividly and it wasn’t the
first time my father beat him, it was just the last, so please give him time if
he doesn’t open up right away.”
Cas wanted to laugh. She was preaching to the mother fucking choir about fucked
up issues with sexuality. This was basically Dean’s warning label. He wondered
how his would read. Extreme reactions to the gentlest touch so prefers rough
balls to the wall anonymous sex, has extreme Oedipus level mommy complex
proceed with caution or just fuck him from behind.  
The same guy who asked if he came suggested that the reason he liked guys was
because of his mother, the fucked up thing was he didn’t even know. Maybe at
first kind of he hooked up with men because it was the furthest thing from the
abuse he’d known, but also the only rush he ever felt. He came during his abuse
but it was never wanted, it was something ripped out of him painfully. He had
no idea if it was her fault. Everything online he’d seen about homosexuality
said it wasn’t, that it was just how he was wired and he liked that better than
the alternative because he didn’t anything good from her and he loved gay sex.
it was crazy how complicated his life was that way. He enjoyed the sex and the
freedom it brought him even as it triggered him and tore him apart.
That’s the problem when you see yourself as a victim. You become one.
At least that was how he saw it. He had no idea if it was true, but he knew he
wasn’t the only one with childhood trauma to be attacked by more than one
abuser.  When he was fifteen he went to second base with another boy from the
foster home he’d been staying with before he was triggered, the boy didn’t
stop. At the time it was even harder than it was now to let anyone touch him.
Over the years he’d purposefully built up a tolerance to allow himself to have
sex. Maybe he was still disassociating and sometimes he felt dirty and used
afterwards, but honestly he felt worse when he didn’t have sex. He felt
unwanted and unloved. It was a vicious self-perpetuating cycle.
 
 
Maybe someday he would be able to have sex without triggers or at least without
dissociating, that was the dream anyway.
Chapter End Notes
     Some of the things I've looked at in regards to healing after
     childhood sexual assault are Pandora's Project which is a website
     that offers Support and resources for survivors of rape and sexual
     abuse. Healing Sex: A Mind-Body Approach to Healing Sexual Trauma a
     very helpful book by
     Staci Haines, but some people didnt agree with some of her nods
     towards the BDSM community.
     These are books recommended by Pandora's project if anyone is
     interested
     Secret Survivors: Uncovering Incest and Its Aftereffects in Women -
     E. Sue Blume
     The Courage to Heal - Ellen Bass and Laura Davis
     Healing the Child Within - Charles L. Whitfield M.D.
     The Right to Innocence: Healing the Trauma of Childhood Sexual Abuse
     - Beverly Engel
     Outgrowing the Pain - A Book About Adults Abused As Children - Eliana
     Gil
     Getting Through the Day: Strategies for Adults Hurt as Children -
     Nancy Napier
     Incest and Sexuality: A Guide to Understanding and Healing - Wendy
     Maltz
     Beginning to heal - Ellen Bass & Laura Davies
     The Dance of Intimacy - H. Lerner
     I know Cas's path to healing might be a bit faster than real like but
     that is the beauty of fiction. I also intend to incorporate BDSM
     power dynamics into Cas's healing process. This may not be right for
     everyone. it is not something i would recommend for everyone except
     that the BDSM community know how to negotiate sexual terms better
     than those who were never taught to try. I think safe-words and
     guidelines of what you like and don't like can help anyone not just
     kinkster in the community or trauma victims.
***** Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it
is not. *****
Chapter Notes
     I hope it does not suck. I had trouble writing this chapter.
“Have you tried turning it off and back on again?” Sam asked for what felt like
the seven-hundredth time. He was running late, he’d been on a call with this
woman for half an hour it was four thirty. He tapped the pencil on the side of
his headset in an agitated staccato. He waited… They weren’t allowed to have
many personal items on their desks. He had a small Dracula bobble head, and a
picture of the three of them, it was at his graduation.  He wore his bright
blue graduation gown. Dean had his arm around him or at least he was trying to,
which forced him to lower himself slightly. Jo who was twelve stood on his left
side in a blue sun dress. They were all laughing. It was a happy time in his
life. The last few years had not been that happy. Objectively he knew they were
much better than his childhood but it hurt all the same.  First with Dean
dating Lisa he had been extremely jealous, before then all the women he dated
had been temporary. It wasn’t that Sam thought Dean was gay. He didn’t think
someone could aggressively fake such an attraction to women. No Dean liked
women too, it was just maybe it was his own romantic musings, but he never
loved any of them.
Sam wasn’t even convinced that he loved Lisa, maybe he just loved the idea of
her. The white picket fence, the family, all of it.  Dean had craved a family
for as long as he could remember.
Which was way it was so hard to tell him the truth. He didn’t want to rob him
of the small bit of family he did have. Except he couldn’t hold it in any
longer.
“That fixed it?” Sam asked doing his best not to slip into a sarcastic tone.
 “Ok have a nice day Ma’am”
He hung up. Dean would already be waiting for him. They had kept the party
window open knowing Dean often got off work late.
            He shot Jo a quick text.
[ Is the party ready?] he asked
{Yeah} was the immediate response followed by {Bring booze}
He rolled his eyes but had to agree a little liquid courage might be in order.
            All day he had tried to come up with a rudimentary speech of sorts,
he imagined coming right out and saying Dean I know you like men and I’m in
love with you might be a bit too forward.
He gathered up his things and stuffed them into his satchel. He walked towards
the elevator, lost in thought. Maybe he was over complicating this issue.  He
wanted Dean to care about him back, but he couldn’t force him, all he had
control over was the truth. Except the idea of telling Dean and his feelings
remaining unrequited tore him apart.
The elevator ride was slow the placid music jangling against his every nerve,
he knew he wasn’t going to tell him as soon as he saw him, but that didn’t stop
his heart from racing with anticipation.
Finally, he reached the ground floor. He walked quickly towards the exit.  Dean
was leaning against the retaining wall out front his tablet in hand. All around
him was activity. Birds chirping people moving about and yet he was engrossed
in whatever it was he was reading. Sam shook his head. The man never turned it
off. Even when they were kids, he was like a dog with a bone. His whole life
he’d done nothing, but try to take care of other people. Maybe that was what
him being with Lisa was actually about. She didn’t ask for much in the divorce
it was a mostly amicable split, but she was able to move to a bigger house and
send Ben to private school. Dean always took care of other people and never
himself. 
He wanted to get the best grades, get into the best school, the best job all so
that he could make more money. So he could be a better provider.  He never
seemed to understand that it wasn’t his money that they wanted.
Sam loved reading as much as the next person he currently had Milk and Honey by
Rupi Kaur in his bag, Dean took it to the next extreme.
            Sam had seen him struggle as a child. Learning had never come easy
to him, he’d fought for it. Every step a new victory, and a further step from
himself.
Sam knew people could evolve, he was very different then he was as a child, but
Dean seemed to bury an entire section of himself, because he felt it necessary
to be a different man to provide for Sam and Jo, while he couldn’t speak for
Jo, but they could live in a cardboard box as long as Dean was there he
wouldn’t care.
“Hey” he called out as he neared him. Dean glanced up from the screen his brows
had been furrowed in concentration.  He smiled lowering it slowly. Whatever the
subject matter he had been intently focused.
“Hey you ready for lunch?” he asked.
“About that.” Sam continued smiling. Dean was frowning confused. He knew Jo
wanted it to be a surprise but he also knew there was no way he could get him
there without telling him
“There is sort of a surprise party waiting for you at your house.”
                                      ***
Cas was haunting a corner of the living room as far from everyone else as
humanly possible while still remaining as part of the party. This was a
terrible idea. What if Dean lost his shit? He really shouldn’t be at this party
he didn’t belong in Dean’s life he was just in it for the money and the sex or
the sex and then the money whichever way worked better. He was leaning against
the wall, practically in the hallway by the bedrooms. There were a lot more
people here. Many of whom looked the business type. He felt so out of place
with the other yuppies. They were in the kitchen gulping down chips and dip or
pouring themselves a glass of soda, in printed plastic cups that read Dean’s
30th the man had his own souvenir cups. Thankfully Jo was playing hostess, and
had introduced him as a friend of Dean’s it would have been terribly awkward if
she had said anything else. 
 His phone dinged. He flipped open the prepaid phone.
[I’m sorry, I didn’t know my family would come over]
Cas stared at the words again trying to decide on the correct interpretation.
Did he mean sorry; I didn’t know my family was coming over get your for sale
ass out of my house or was it more I’m sorry I didn’t know my family was coming
over this must be terribly uncomfortable for you since ya know you’re a
prostitute.
{It’s ok} he
replied.                                                               
It really wasn’t and he had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t really a
prostitute he just wasn’t above sex for money. There really was a difference.
He was just about to leave and hide in the guest room when Jo walked over to
him.
“Hey you doing alright?” she asked looking sincerely concerned
Cas realized he was presenting a very defensive posture arms crossed leaning
against the wall like he was, it was only then he realized the tension in his
neck as he tried to keep himself small and unnoticed.
“Yeah.” He replied quickly
“I…” he hesitated telling her something real, but found himself oddly
talkative.
“I just don’t do well with crowds.” She nodded understandingly
“Dean either. He’s actually going to hate this, but it’s better than him
sitting along and drinking.”
Cas watched her curiously. “Is that what he did last year?” he wondered.
She shrugged.  “Maybe not, but thirty is a big deal and it hits some people
harder than other’s Dean’s old man died when he was thirty-seven. Heart
attack.”  
“Wow.” Was all he could say. Then it clicked. “That’s why he eats so healthy.”
She nodded.
“His mom?” Jo shrugged. “Left when he was two, relinquished custody to the
state after his Dad died. Dean was four or five when his Dad died.”
Cas frowned. It made sense at least to him why nobody wanted him. He was a
fucking wreck, but Dean. It made no sense to him that he wasn’t adopted. Then
again life wasn’t fair.
Jo’s phone went off.
“Ok everybody they are almost here hide!” she called out in a strange hushed
whisper. Everyone moved behind furniture and ducked into the kitchen. He
crouched slightly Jo turned off the lights. He wasn’t sure why he was here, he
knew he didn’t belong but for the moment at least it was nice to see what
belonging looked like. 
                                      ***
God Dean hated parties. He hated being the center of attention, but he gotten
used to it as his job. He could play the part he just felt bad for Cas. Plus,
he wanted to talk to him as soon as possible but it would be hard to have the
conversation he wanted with his family and friends lurking about. It was five
twenty by the time he got to his apartment.
He’d stopped by the bank on during his lunch break. He had two thousand dollars
in cash in an envelop in his pocket.  On the way back to his apartment they
stopped by the liquor store. Sam insisted on paying for it. Said that he didn’t
need to pay for the booze for his own party. Dean didn’t care he didn’t really
intend to drink much. He wasn’t in the mood the celebrate. Part of it was
because it was just another day closer to his inevitable end. Honestly that was
very likely the reason he rushed things with Lisa. He wanted a family know
while he could still enjoy it. He paused at his door. The white paint was
flawless. Strangely he felt a strange urge to take his key and scrape at the
paint.
“Now act surprised or Jo will have a fit.”
“Yeah.” He agreed.
He took a deep breath. He could do this.  He told himself as he inserted the
key.
The lights were off, but it was five o’clock in January it wasn’t dark enough
to fully obscure the shapes of people in his living room he paused a beat
before crossing the threshold.
“Hey’a Sammy why did we need to stop by my place?” he called back towards Sam.
His words sounding false to his own ears, damn Jo was gonna punch him.
It didn’t sound like much but she had a tiny little fist and knew how to throw
a punch it was simply a matter of force and surface area. Those little fists
hurt.
“Surprise!” Jo called out flipping on the overheard living room lights.
He plastered on his best surprised face and fought the urge to ham it up and
scream like a startled school girl, if it had just been his family he would
have done it, but some of his work friends were there.
He saw Henriksen from legal,Benny LaFitte, Garth was there still wearing his
canary yellow polo same as Sam. There wasn’t really a rule about fraternizing
with the different sections it just sort of happened that “way and for the most
part honestly the other guys in his section were asshats.
Jo flounced over excitedly “There is pie”
She informed him he couldn’t help but smile. She knew he pretty well.
“Thanks” he agreed and was impressed when not only did he find platters of
chips and dip but also vegetables and humus. He stole a potato chip and a glob
of ranch dip before accepting his fate and filled his plate with the vegetables
and humus dip.
He scanned the room looking for Cas.
The kid was lingering by the hallway. His eye was looking much less swollen
just still tinged with purplish blue. He was clearly uncomfortable. It was
written all over his body language his eyes kept shifting about his arms
crossed his shoulders hunched, he didn’t think about one could project I really
don’t want to be here any clearer if they tried. He was planning on having a
snack first before but he needed to talk to him now sooner than later. He
wasn’t wearing any makeup, his face looked just as translucently pale without
it, he looked very young and vulnerable. Dean only hoped he was doing the right
thing. This was his experiment, his foray into the other side of his sexuality,
but his was Cas’s life. If he screwed this up he could further damage the kid’s
tenuous and tumultuous relationship with sex, and yet even with high stakes he
wanted to do it.
He grabbed two light beers. Just in case the kid wanted one. Nobody needed to
know he was too young.
 He carefully made his way across the crowed. He stopped occasionally when
someone wished him a happy birthday.
Dean was walking towards him, he had a beer in each hand. His expression was
hard to read.
Was he gonna kick him out?  Cas felt his shoulders tense up again.
“Hey” he said as he reached him he didn’t seem ashamed of being seen with him.
“Hey” he replied with an uncertain nod.
“Is it ok if we talk?” Dean asked and Cas’s heart fell. Nobody wanted to just
talk for a good reason. The last time he had a talk with someone was Cooper.
He’d said he was sorry that he pushed him but you couldn’t get a man warmed up
like that and not give them sex. Cooper was an asshole.
 Cas accepted the beer and followed Dean out onto the balcony
He wished he had a jacket it was cold out somewhere above thirties, the long
sleeves of his shirt helped slightly but not as much and it would only get
cooler. The sun was just starting to set there was likely still an hour’s left
of twilight.
“So you kicking me out?” Cas asked as soon as the balcony’s sliding glass door
closed. Dean’s back was to him.
“No.” He began setting his beer on a tiny patio table.
Cas cocked his head to the side confused.
“Then what?”
Dean reached in his pocket and withdrew a plain white envelope. He extended his
arm out towards him. Hesitantly Cas reached out for it, like it was a bomb. Why
was Dean making such a big deal about all of this? Cas knew it was weird that
he was here for the man’s birthday but it wasn’t his fault. His explanation
burst forth in rapid stream of consciousness.
“I wasn’t trying to invade on the party I was in your room and your sister
caught me yes I was snooping and I think she thinks I’m your secret boyfriend
or one night stand or something so she invited me to the party.” He finished in
one long rush of a sentence out of breath.
“That’s fine.” Dean assured him  
Cas was very confused right now, and mistrustful. Why was he being so chill
about all of this it was weird.
“So what’s this?” he asked hastily hefting the envelop without looking at it.
“Two thousand dollars.” Dean replied
“So what are you buying me off?” he demanded angrily. Not sure why he was
angry. He earned his keep yeah but if some rich asshat offered you two grand to
get gone you say yes sir and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way
out.
“No.” Dean a bit harsher as he continued being very descriptive of what the
fuck he was doing.
“Then what?” Cas demanded belligerently.
“Stay the weekend with me.”   Dean asked awkwardly.
Cas frowned, “That’s what you already asked.”
Dean was looking just as frustrated as he felt. It was like trying to explain
colors to a brick wall.
“I don’t want you obligated because of money.” Dean finally said.
The wheels in Cas’s brain started turning
“So what like an actual date?” he asked mystified he had never been on a proper
date or an improper one for that matter.
Why would the guy give up a sure thing? Why would he want to go on a date with
him?
 “No.” Cas insisted shaking his head vehemently “This is too weird; why would
you do that?”
“Because you’re not something I can just buy.” Cas laughed bitterly
“Yes I am.” He disagreed filled with self-loathing. “That is exactly the sum of
my worth.” He continued. “In fact I should give most of this back because two
grand is ripping you off.”
“The money is so you don’t feel obligated to stay out of necessity. You can
leave if you want go to wherever you want. It’s a no strings attached gift.”
Cas laughed again a jaded sneer forming on his face. “You see where I come from
there is no such thing.”
“Everything has strings.” He added when he noticed Dean’s confused look.
The man shook his head slowly. “Not this. I’ve been where you are, not exactly
the same but lost angry, bitter, mistrusting, a man I now consider my father
helped me out when I needed it the most.”
“Oh so you do wanna be my daddy then.” He jeered crossing his arms quickly
feeling the sting of the razor cuts on both sides.
“No, I want a nice weekend, where we hang out, have fun maybe, if you feel like
it, have sex.”
If he felt like it? What a bemusing way to phrase it. What was that even like?
Had he ever felt like having sex? he felt compelled to have sex. It was
something to do. It was a release of sorts. There were times where it seemed an
appropriate reaction to events but had he ever initiated sex because he
actually wanted sex? he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of a natural sexual
reaction.
“Why would you want this?” he asked “Why me? I’m nothing, nobody” Dean had been
trying to think of an answer to that question all day.
“Because I think we could click. I think you are worthy of so much more than
you have gotten. I think we could help each other out, deal with things
together.” Cas knew he was referring to his own abuse even if he couldn’t say
the words, he was thankful for Jo for imparting that information.
“and if it takes longer than a weekend?” he asked. Dean shrugged. “Let’s take
it a day at a time… no pressure to have sex, no pressure to label anything. No
pressure.”
“And if I wanna leave?”
“Leave.”
Cas bit his lip mulling it over. This was unorthodox he knew that much about
dating. Staying the weekend was at least level two, but it wasn’t like he had
his own place.
“I don’t even know if I can have sex the way you want.” he admitted figuring
honesty was the best policy and it was true. He could fuck but what Dean was
proposing he didn’t know if he could do it.
“That’s fine.” Dean assured again and it seemed like he really meant it.
“There has got to be someone more fitting. This is crazy you know that right?”
Dean shrugged. “Probably, but I could use come crazy in my life.”
He bit his lip again. Trying to weigh his feelings. He liked Dean, the little
glimpse of his world had seemed both welcoming and lonely. Trust wasn’t
something came easily to him, neither was reading his triggers. One shrink said
to him that triggers were part of the natural fight or flight response and
sometimes if he thought about it he could figure out what he felt was dangerous
to him. He’d called bullshit and left and never went back, but now he wasn’t so
sure.
“I would need some ground rules.” He insisted.  Dean nodded solemnly
“I pay my own way,” he insisted. Dean looked like he was about to object.
“Look I don’t want to owe you more cause you took me out to eat and fuck you
cause I feel guilty. Its already your money I’d be using.”
Dean nodded.
“The guest room would be my space. You can’t go in there, while I’m here.” 
Dean nodded again.
“And you can’t touch me without my permission.”
Boundaries were healthy, but he had a few of his own.
“Ok I have a few as well.” He watched as Cas tensed.
“If we have sex both of us must do so sober.” He watched the man flinch almost
as if he was burned. 
He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously ducking his head.
“Yeah, ok, but then we defiantly won’t have sex.”
Dean pushed past his comment.
“Secondly, you need a safe word.”
Cas frowned. “Looking to tie me up, cause that won’t fly.”
“I triggered you the other night yes?” Dean asked knowing what he said was true
Cas shrugged sullenly.
“The stoplight system green, yellow, red. To stop a particular action” Dean
continued. “and a word to stop everything.”
Cas frowned it made sense, but sometimes when he was triggered however he
wasn’t good at communicating, his need to stop. He was so trained to let things
happen to him when he was dissociated he wasn’t sure if he would be able to do
it properly but he supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
“Honeybee.” He replied quietly
Dean nodded.
“Finally no cutting, not in my house.”
Cas paused. He glanced up into Dean’s new leaf green eyes. He was serious.
“What about outside your house?” he asked feeling mulish
“No.”
Cas knew ultimately he still could he could leave at any time the man had said
as much.
“And we renegotiate as necessary.” He added.
Dean concurred.
What did he had to lose? Cas wondered. He had no job, no home, nowhere to be,
no one would might miss him, why not try for some of what he was missing? He
had an out, this wasn’t the same as having a boyfriend he didn’t know what it
was but it was different. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to
Dean. That he didn’t wish someone could touch him without making him wanna rip
his skin off a piece at a time.
“Ok.” He agreed. “Let’s give it a try.”
                                      ***
Sam mingled. He hated mingling. It was inane conversation with people didn’t
care about. Especially when all he wanted to do was talk to Dean. Maybe he had
spent too much of his life fantasizing about it, but he just wanted this
conversation to be over. He wanted the guilt to be over.  He lost track of Dean
for a while he wasn’t sure where he could have gotten to considering the size
of his apartment, but he continued to sip his beer and talk to the strangers
his sister had insisted on inviting over. He’d finished his first one and was
on to his second when he found him it was maybe ten minutes later when he
spotted Dean out on the porch with a stranger.
The kid looked like no one he’d ever seen Dean talk to before. He had dark
brownish black hair, shaved at the sides, piercings, dark clothes.  He was
gesturing with his hands a lot as they spoke. There was something familiar in
the way they spoke together, they may not have known each other long but they
had an understanding he wasn’t sure what it might be.
He grabbed his third beer before he crossed the living room to Jo.
“Who is that guy?” Sam asked indicating the young goth.
“Oh that’s Cas.” She said the name like it was one that he should know. Was he
a friend of hers a boyfriend maybe? They looked maybe comparable in age but he
couldn’t picture Ellen Harvelle letting this punked out kid closer than twenty
feet of dating her daughter. Was that why Dean was talking to him. Playing the
big brother role trying to scare away some guy?
“I found him in Dean’s room this morning” she added conspiratorially standing
on tip toe whispering in his ear so that no one else could hear and actually he
must have heard wrong as well.
“What?” he wondered confused, there was this weird sinking feeling in the pit
of his stomach.
In all the thousands of scenarios where Dean admitted that he was bi Sam had
never pictured one with another man involved. 
Jo grabbed him by the crook of his arm and steered him towards the hallway,
where no one could over hear their conversation. He still held his beer in one
hand surprised that he had retained his grip on it when he was losing his grip
on everything else.
“This morning, I found him in Dean’s room wearing a set of his PJs.” Damning
evidence to be sure. She sounded so excited. Why wouldn’t she be excited she
didn’t know how he felt about Dean. No one did, but damn near everyone who knew
him knew how Dean felt about men.
“Are they dating?” he found himself asking mechanically.
She shrugged “All I know is that Dean asked him to stay the weekend.”
There was a strange ringing sound in his ears. It was disappointment.
He heard the glass sliding door open and watched as Dean scanned the crowd for
him. What had they been talking about Dean looked so sure of himself.
“Sammyy” Dean called out. Walking towards him
The kid followed him like flotsam caught on a fishing line towed forward
without a will of his own.
“I want you to meet a friend of mine, Cas, he’s staying the weekend with me.”
The kid looked uncomfortable. Sam fought with his urge to give into his
jealousy or be nice, as usual nice won.
“Hey,” he greeted offering his hand for a shake. “I’m Sam,”
“That’s my brother.” Dean begun “Foster.” Sam corrected as he always did. The
label ate away at him the same as it always did... He appreciated the love that
came with the label, but not the distance. He wanted more from Dean. Cas jerked
his head towards him seemingly the only one who noticed his distinction. Sam
couldn’t make what he thought of it.
“Nice to meet you.” Cas mumbled shaking his hand.
His brain kept stuttering. Tying to picture the two of them together. He would
have never pictured him as Dean’s type. Yeah he was attractive. He was pale and
smooth and young, he looked damaged. That part was Dean’s type. He loved fixing
people helping them. It was something Sam loved about him.  There was really no
proof that they slept together. He should just ask Dean. They had always been
honest with each other with two obvious exceptions.
“Hey can I talk to you for a second” Sam asked.
A perplexed look crossed his face “Yeah… of course.”
He jerked his head towards Dean’s bedroom.
Sam wasn’t sure what he was going to do. All his carefully rehearsed words
evaporated. He wanted to tell Dean the truth that he loved him and wanted to be
with him, but now he was unsure. He was going to ask Dean.
He strode into the room quickly spinning to face Dean.
He felt Dean follow him as he opened the bedroom door. The bed was slightly
mussed. It wasn’t like him.
 “What’s with the kid?” he asked feeling more defensive than he had any right
to be.
Dean frowned what was up with Sam? He was swinging his arms about awkwardly as
he didn’t know where to place them. He ran his hands through his hair.
“Why do you care?” Dean asked laughing slightly.
This was his chance. Come clean tell the truth. Fuck subtle, just go for
honest. I know you like men and I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with
you since I was twelve years old.
“Just curious.” His words resonated more with what was not said than what he
actually said.
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets switching from agitated hands to frozen
silence.
Just fucking spit it out. His mind screamed. Tell him. Every molecule in his
body screamed at him just tell him the truth. Just be honest with him.  He
waited paused between truth and remaining silent.
“I asked him to stay the weekend” Dean repeated.
“So what is he your boyfriend?” Sam demanded heatedly. He watched as Dean’s
eyebrows shot up in surprise to his response.
“No…”
“Then what?” he pressed crossing his arms across his chest.
“We… aren’t labeling anything.” Dean admitted. There it was he was vulnerable,
he was honest and another man would get to experience that.
Jealously was overwhelming him. Part of him was angry. Angry that he had missed
out by what? A day? Maybe two?
Another part was sad, that part wanted to leave the party and down a fifth of
scotch, and then down another.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked his confusion was clearly mounting and he had every
reason to be confused.
“I…” he began his voice quavering. He turned his back on Dean chugging his
beer. He could tell that Dean had moved closer. He dropped the empty bottle to
the floor it made a hollow thunk.
Dean reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” Sam swore whirling to face him.
Dean was shocked “Why not?” he asked perplexed.  There was a brief moment when
the confession hovered on his lips. His last moment of furtive feelings
“Because then I’ll want you to touch me more.” He choked out surprising himself
as his words came out half a sob and half a plea.
Dean’s expression was pure unadulterated anguish… horror was too far of a fear
driven word, but his surprise was not positive.
“What are you saying?” Dean demanded his voice was gruff.  
“I’m saying I want you.”
Dean spun away from him brining his hand to his face in a fist biting his
knuckle
“Uh-uh.” Dean insisted shaking his head. “That’s not how this works.”
“Why not?” Sam demanded angrily
Dean spun to face him. “Because we’re brothers.” He shouted violently gesturing
with his hands seeming surprised by his own anger
Sam chuckled darkly. “But we’re not. Not really, no blood relation.”
“Family don’t end in blood.” He parroted softly quoting Bobby.
Sam sighed heavily he wasn’t sure what he expected. Dean put up walls between
them, first his denial of his sexuality then his insistence that they cling to
the tiny scrap of their enforced familial relationship.
“Doesn’t matter.” Sam muttered quietly.
“I love you.” Dean practically flinched at his words turning his head away from
him. “I just needed to tell you that.” Sam continued resigned. He begun moving
toward the door ready for that fifth of scotch.
“It’s just a crush.” Dean maintained his voice was little more than a whisper.
“No it was a crush when I was twelve now. I know the truth Dean I love you,
have always loved you.”
“It can’t be true.” Dean breathed. His words striking his heart.
 Sam faced him. Dean’s expression was a strange mix of emotions; he was forlorn
“Why not?” he dared echoing Dean’s earlier words. Why couldn’t he love him? why
must he relegate his feelings to something fleeting?
“Because…” Dean begun  
Dean didn’t have a good reason he realized. He’d known Sam had a crush on him
and he’d always thought it was harmless. That it would disappear the moment he
found a man worthy of being with. He’d never really come up with a good reason
why they shouldn’t be together.
The standard reasons adoptive siblings shouldn’t be together didn’t apply. They
had no family to alienate except Bobby and Jo and neither one of them would
begrudge them any happiness they managed to find.
“Yeah that’s what I thought.” Sam scorned   walking toward the door.
“Can we talk about this later?” Dean implored as Sam’s hand encircled the
doorknob.
Sam laid his forehead against the wood of the door. It was cool against his
face.
“Is he still staying?” he found himself asking. It was petty he knew that. It
still didn’t stop the words from spilling out. Was Dean still staying with this
stranger after he knew the truth.
“That’s not fair.” Dean swore defensively
“Life isn’t fair Dean” Sam maintained rotating towards him agitatedly
“Do I think it’s fair that my father was an abusive asshole that thought he was
doing me a favor dragging me along for the ride? Do I think it’s fair your
father died? Do I think it’s fair that Kubrick beat the shit out of you for
being gay when it was my playgirl? No none of that is fair Dean. Why should
anything else be?”
“Can’t we talk about this later?” Dean pleaded. He needed to think this thing
with Cas was still so new and fragile he didn’t want to hurt him, and yet he
cared about Sam more than anyone else in the world but he wasn’t sure how he
felt about this. He’d spent most of his adult life pretending that Sam was
still this unattainable child. He knew at times he infantilized him, or
distanced his affection under familial bonding. He still had not come to terms
with his sexuality let along this perhaps not wholly unexpected revelation of
Sam’s feelings for him. it was too much. It was overwhelming. He felt like he
was drowning his heart was beating too fast it was the unbearable rhythm in his
ears.
“Please I need time. Can you give me that?”
Sam smirked but there was no mirth in his eyes. “I gave you the last twelve
years of my life what’s a few more days.” He admitted gloomily.
***** What fire does not destroy, it hardens *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS. DISCUSSION OF PAST SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE,
     DISCUSSION OF DRUG ABUSE, OVERDOSE, WITHDRAWAL AND DRUG CRAVINGS.
     Sexual content. Please be careful.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Cas was munching on carrots as he kept his eye on the hallway towards the
bedroom. He’d never seen the weird tan colored bean dip that came with the
vegetables before but it was pretty good.
After a little while Sam marched out of the hallway he was clearly distraught.
Cas may not be good with people but he was pretty good at reading them. Sam was
swinging his arms as he walked practically stomping in anger. If he had been a
bit clumsier of a person, he would have knocked over a lamp. Cas popped a baby
tomato in his mouth trying to decide if her should care about this or not as
his eyes followed the man while he quickly traversed the room towards the door.
He slammed it closed behind him and it was only then that it seemed the other
guests took notice. He heard Jo protest.
“We haven’t even sung happy birthday yet.”
Cas took several moments to decide if he should go and check on Dean and twice
as long to implement his plan. He knew this really wasn’t his business. He
wasn’t really dating Dean they were sort of play acting till something better
came along or at least that was how he felt. He’d only agreed to this less than
an hour ago and already he was having second thoughts. He walked slowly down
the hall the plate of veggies balanced in his hand.
he hesitated at the doorway this wasn’t really his place after all. Maybe he
should tell Jo that Dean was upset and then try from there. He wasn’t ever sure
Dean was upset he just assumed as such based on the way his foster brother
left. He hadn’t missed that slight emphasis on the word foster. He wasn’t sure
what the man meant exactly by it but the fact that he wanted distance from the
word brother was clear. 
Maybe Dean’s picture perfect life really was a sham and his foster brother
hated him or maybe he was hitting him up for money. Cas could attest to the
fact that Dean was loaded. The envelope of money was boring a hole in his
pocket he felt like everyone could see it.
He knocked. Dean opened the door he was surprised by what he saw. There were
tears in his eyes. Dean quickly swiped them away with the back of his hand.
“Hey Cas, now isn’t really…” whatever he’d been about the say he lost when he
noticed the plate that Cas had made for him.
“Uh thanks.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked personally he rarely wanted to talk
about it but there were times in his life he’d wished he had someone to talk
to. Maybe a willing ear could be a good thing?
“Not yet.” Dean replied but that was good right? He didn’t shut him out
completely or tell him to go fuck himself. If someone asked him if he wanted to
talk about he would have told them to shove their sympathy up their ass. Hell
he still might tell someone that.
“Do… you want a hug?” he asked feeling childish flashing back to the third
grade when he’d fallen on the playground, the school nurse who must have been
eighty then she was well past retirement, she was probably dead by now, but
she’d helped him up and dusted him off and ultimately asked him if he wanted a
hug… she didn’t just grab him and squeeze him like many adults did. He found
out she was the one who saved him.
Dean blinked slowly
“Yeah.” He agreed gradually
Cas took a deep breath and encircled Dean in his arms. Dean kept the hug loose
his arms around his waist.
Cas pressed closer bringing their bodies closer together. Dean didn’t move. Cas
hoped it made him feel better, it actually kind of made him feel better.
After a few moments he pulled back.
Dean was looking at him as if he was some mystery he couldn’t figure out.
Cas just grinned. Hugs he could do, his mother rarely hugged him.
“Thanks.” Dean murmured awkwardly.
“They wanted to sing you happy birthday.” Cas added. Dean nodded. “Jo mentioned
she had a test, tomorrow.” 
Dean was fine with that the sooner everyone left the sooner he could deal with
his feelings in this and by deal with his feelings he meant drink.
 He glanced at his wristwatch. It was 6:30ish.
“Ok I’ll be right there.” He agreed. Cas cleaver kid that he was nodded and
stepped out of the room giving him a moment to compose himself.
He should have known this was coming, but hindsight really was twenty twenty.
He’d buried the notion that Sam would say something so far down that he’d
almost forgotten, but not really. he’d known Sam had very unbrotherly feelings
for him and he’d tried very hard to maintain that platonic connection they had
as children as much for his benefit as it was Sam’s. Now wasn’t the moment, but
he would need to think long and hard about his feelings and desires. However,
he owed Cas this weekend.
He sighed heavily why did shit like this happen at the same time?
He was torn in several directions. He sat on the edge of the bed his elbows
resting on his knees his legs spread, his face in his hands as he tried to
think.
He didn’t need an immediate solution. He just needed a direction.
Did he tell Cas the truth about Sam? Did he tell Sam the truth about Cas?  Did
he just go about this weekend with Cas like nothing happened? Did he just go
about the rest of his life pretending Sammy never confessed?
“urg” he groaned standing up running his hands agitatedly through his hair.
He didn’t know what to do.
He loved Sam, he had always thought that it was like a brother but what if he
was wrong? What was he afraid of? Losing the only family, he’d ever know…
right.
He didn’t love Cas. He liked the kid, respected him even. He felt for him, he
didn’t know exactly what the kid had been through but he wanted to. He wanted
to help him and, be supportive and yes he did want to kiss him and touch him,
soothe his shattered soul.
He needed to know more about Cas. He’d opened his home to him and he didn’t
regret it, but he needed to know… not if Cas was worth saving that he already
knew, but if Cas wanted to be saved. 
And he needed to talk to Sam.  Tell him about this thing with Cas however weird
it was he made a deal, and he wanted to keep it and not just to protect Cas’s
feelings for himself as well.
 Sam would understand. Somehow the thought of that relaxed him. whatever Sam
was to him he was also his best and closest friend. He knew that if he talked
to him they could work it out.
He took a deep breath and smiled, exiting the room.
Everyone cheered and begun to clap as they saw him enter.
Cas was again away from the action lingering by the patio.  
The sung him happy birthday… even Cas. There was a little white candle stuck in
the center of the pie.
He blew out the candle and wished for serenity. 
The apple pie looked amazing the golden brown lattice crossing the pies surface
looked flaky and crisp, he took a bite and the most sweetness of the sugared
cinnamon apples melted in his mouth.
“Oh this is so good.” He mumbled around a mouthful of pie not even thinking.
The crowed chuckled at his antics.
Cas found himself slightly enamored with this side of Dean… whether it was true
or not was left to be seen but he really shone in a crowd. He was gregarious
and funny, as he sat at the bar the crowd of people gathered around him.
Laughing at his jokes.  He gestured wildly as he spoke laughing at his own
jokes.
It was cute, and it reminded him so much of himself.
Not the being good with people part. Cas had never managed that. Even as a
child he had always taken things too literally, to be good at jokes. He was
even able to spoil a joke while reading it from a book. He was awkward
interacting with others, his sarcasm was usually on point however; but that was
a carefully perfected defense mechanism. No Dean reminded him of his self in
the way he could hide his pain.
Cas hid his behind goth makeup, black clothes and sarcasm. Dean hid his behind
his rich clothes, enforced levity, and his rituals.  Already it was easy to see
Dean was a creature of habit, and that habit was a means of imposing control on
the few things he could control in life. His coffee, his food, his space., but
not him.
Dean didn’t want to control him and Cas found that fucking fascinating. Up
until this point everyone had wanted to. his mother, his social worker, his
foster parents his boyfriends, his bosses. Sometimes he let them, because it
was easier than doing it himself.
Dean wanted him to decide about sex. It was a novel notion.
Jo was the last to leave. Cas watched as everyone slowly made their excuses
hugged, or shook Dean’s hand and waved goodbye.
Jo stood on tiptoe to give Dean a kiss on the cheek before hugging him goodbye.
She waved at him with a smile.
“See you later Cas.” She called out.
It struck him as odd. How open and accepting of him his sister had been. Even
his brother for the most part had been polite to him.
He found himself alone again with Dean the air felt oddly charged. He felt like
he should make some kind of advance on him, but remained where he was. He
wanted to see how things played out.
Dean reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator and grabbed down a clear
bottle filled with a light brown liquid.
“This scotch is as old as I am.” He commented off hand. As he pulled down a
glass. He shot Cas a questioning look. He nodded.
Dean pulled down another glass and carefully pored a small amount in each, a
little less in his.
Dean set his glass down on the coffee table as he sunk down into the sofa.
He gestured for Cas to join him. Cas crossed the room and sat next to him on
the couch.
“Tell me about yourself Cas.” He asked again nearly echoing the same phrase
he’d asked the night before.
It was amazing how much had changed for him in a single day.
“What do you want to know?” Cas asked he cradled the drink in one hand the
fumes of the liquor were strong.
“Whatever you feel like sharing.”
“Quid Pro Quo.”
Dean nodded taking a sip of the scotch.
When Cas didn’t respond Dean cocked his head to the side.
“Oh I’m the quid and you’re the quo ok.” He teased speaking nonsense.
He took a deep breath and launched into his speech. Like he had told it a
million times before.
“I was raised in foster care; from the time I was five. I went to eight
different homes over the years, I consider myself lucky in that, I hear the
average is three, but I’ve known kids who have been to upwards of twenty.” He
hesitated slightly as he continued. He closed his eyes maybe so he wouldn’t see
Cas’s reaction.
“My second to last foster dad used to beat the shit out of me because he
thought I was gay, but that was just his excuse. Thing is he liked to beat on
people smaller than him. I met my foster…brother Sam when he was four and Jo as
a tiny tot. I was lucky there too. Sam and me kept getting placed together.
Sometime even blood siblings don’t get placed together.”
Cas knew the truth of that. He pushed it away.
“I…” once it came down to it, it was harder to get the words out than he’d ever
really expected.
“I went into foster care when I was thirteen.” That part was easy, that part
was just a matter of fact.
Dean moved to put his hand on his leg likely to comfort him but he stopped and
set in beside him again.
“I ran away two years later, been living on my own ever since.”  He added.  He
left out the part where on his own mainly meant a series of homeless shelters,
underpasses, motels, wherever freedom rang.
“Why?” Dean wondered. He wasn’t pressing him or grilling him for information he
just wanted to know it made Cas want to tell him.
“A boy in the home… Cooper…he raped me.”  and Cas wasn’t going to fall into
that pattern again. He’d run away, because he wasn’t going to be anyone’s dirty
little secret again.
Sympathy crossed Dean’s face.
“That wasn’t the first time was it?” Cas wasn’t sure how he knew maybe the
taint was always apart of him.
“No...” he agreed trailing off he opened his mouth to speak but no words came
out. It felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest so that he couldn’t
breathe.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Dean insisted quickly he had
turned partially on the sofa so that he was facing Cas leaving it where their
knees almost touched.
Cas had only told a handful of people the truth. A shrink, an ex-boyfriend, his
brother.  In the end they either analyzed it, trivialized it, or didn’t believe
it.
“My… mother used to touch me…”
He watched as Dean’s eyes widened, like everyone’s eyes did when he told
people. No one thought a mother was capable of such violence upon a child,
their own child, but Cas knew the truth.
“sshe said it was a game… I liked games.” He stuttered out.
He knew he was disassociating he could feel it. His vision narrowed down to a
tunnel of what was directly in front of him. He was talking on auto piolet
recounting distant memories.
“And she always had sweets… sugar for her and sugar for me…she called me her
little sugarbaby.” He shuddered.
“When I got older… she’d have me hold the bag for her douche while she laid on
her back touching herself.” He could see it, like it was right in front of him
like he never left.
“Hush.” Dean said firmly his voice shook him to his core he spun to face him
only to realize he had tears in his eyes as they slowly ran down his face.
“Shhh.” Dean whispered his hand raised the same as if he was trying to calm a
spooked horse.
“It’s ok she’s not here. You’re having a flashback. You are in my apartment
remember?”
Cas looked around seeing his surroundings almost for the first time.
Without real clear reasoning why he flung himself into Dean’s arms. The
surprised man wrapped him up in them his warmth enveloping him. He sobbed into
his shirt. Unable to stop the flood of emotions that ripped through him. He
didn’t hold back he couldn’t hold back he wept his shaky cries echoing about
the room as he struggled to breath.
It took Cas a few moments to realize that Dean was rocking him gently.
He kept whispering soothing things “Its ok… you’re ok.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”  The last caused Cas to bring his head up to meet
Dean’s eyes. There was sympathy there yes, but not pity.  He didn’t pity him.
“I am sorry that happened to you.”  He whispered.
It was the first time someone had told him that.  In so many words. People had
said it was a tragedy that it shouldn’t have happened, but no one ever said
that to him before.
Dean moved his hand very slowly and deliberately so that Cas could sense his
intentions and ask him not to touch him before he did with a slight nod from
Cas Dean continued. He cupped his cheek wiping away his tears. Dean’s soft
touch didn’t trigger him.
“Obviously…” he begun seemingly firm in the belief.
“You did the right thing.”
Cas watched Dean like he was insane.
“You survived.”
Cas blinked owlishly up at him. why was he saying these things? How is it
possible that he knew each and every terrible thing his brain shouted at him in
the middle of the night.
It’s your fault she hurt you… you let her hurt you for years… you didn’t stop
her. You deserved it for not fighting back.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Cas was still in his arms it felt nice holding him he was torn between a
sympathy so profound he felt like he might cry for Cas. That he wished he could
cry for him so that he would never have to shed another tear, and seething
anger at a woman he would never likely know and one who he was incapable of
forgiving or understanding.
Cas was staring at him with this stripped bare expression, like he could see
into the kid’s soul, and see all the cracked corners, so many people in his
life had tried to break him, but he wasn’t broken.
“I’m here if you ever want to talk more.” He assured. Cas was looking at him
strangely and he hoped that he said the right thing, he assumed that he must
have when Cas laid his head back against his chest.
It was a long time later before he spoke, and when he did his words were
distant and despondent.
“Do you still wanna fuck me?” he questioned his voice muffled slightly by his
shirt.
Dean laughed and the unexpectedness of his words.
Cas jerked back he could see from the expression on his face he assumed he was
being laughed at.
“Of course I still want to. Why wouldn’t I?” he asked without thinking
Cas bit his lip his lipring sliding back and forth.
“Because I’m fucked up”
“We are all fucked up.” Dean insisted.
“Because… I’m tainted.” He continued hesitantly
“Not true.” Dean maintained
Cas didn’t reply. He laid his head back down on his chest.
Dean wasn’t sure if he should touch him or not.
“Pet me.” Cas asked quietly.
Dean ran his hand up and down his back
“Thanks.” Cas whispered. “For listening.”
                                      ***
Sam sat on the ground his back leaning up against the sofa he knees drawn up to
his chest his legs splayed his hands dangling between them. He was staring at
the glass of vodka in front him.  He’d stopped by a gas station on the way
home. The place had been small, cramped and out of scotch.
He both wanted to drink it and knew he shouldn’t at the same time. 
He wanted the oblivion of drunkenness so he didn’t have to think about the look
on Dean’s face as he confessed his love for him. A strange mix of fear and
anger.  The expression made his heart ache.
Yet he knew, the solace that it offered was temporary and dangerous. Maybe not
so for someone that had a healthy relationship with escape, but he did not.
He was an addict. He was addicted to escape. He yearned for a world where he
didn’t feel this pain constantly gnawing on his heart.
Part of his brain told him to do it, just take the drink and the next one and
the next one and the next one. No one was here to notice. Just fucking take it!
The longer he stared at the short tumbler glass filled with clear liquid the
harder it was to resist.
The part of his brain that just wanted emptiness called to him.
The Buddhist concept of Nirvana was vastly different from the Christian version
of heaven. To the Buddhist life was an endless cycle of suffering, the Saṃsāra.
The beginning-less cycle of birth, mundane existence and dying again that all
beings pass through. Nirvana’s literal meaning is blowing out or quenching. It
wasn’t a place. It is a state of non-self and emptiness, because to be is to
suffer.
There were times when he craved that deliverance. An emptiness. He wasn’t
devote, honestly he wasn’t a believer, as a kid yes he had prayed, a lot of
good it had done him. He supposed that was the problem. For as long as one is
entangled by craving, one remains bound in Saṃsāra, but when all craving has
been extirpated, one attains, deliverance from the cycle of birth and death.
He downed the vodka setting the glass down hard on the glass countertop of his
coffee table. He still craved so much. Dean included. It was very likely he was
completely full of bullshit. He’d taken world religions as a philosophy credit
in one of the times he’d flunked out of college.  So the answer was leaning
towards bullshit.
The vodka bottle was in a brown bag on the table next to the now empty rocks
glass.
He lifted up the bottle slowly the paper sack crinkled as he gently poured him
another glass.
            What he really wanted was some Oxy, but he didn’t have those
connections anymore. He’d shed them when he grew his knew skin. Drunk would
have to do.
Part of him was curious too. About the kid, what was so special about was his
asshole made of gold or something?
“You’re just jealous.” He said to the empty room his words slurring clumsily
over the letter s.
Damn right I am I saw him first.” He complained back to himself. What the fuck
was he thinking? He wondered as he held the glass he ran his finger around the
rim tracing it. How had he thought that Dean would accept him? He tipped the
glass back. The vodka burned all the way down. You would think he’d have grown
numb to it, then again you would think he’d have grown numb to a lot of things
by now.  He flung himself down on his back lying on the floor the length of the
couch in the space between the sofa and the coffee table. The empty glass
rolling away from him.
Everything moved away from him…
“Now you’re just being melodramatic.”  He mumbled. Turning away from the glass
back towards the ceiling. He felt the turning of the earth. His head spinning.
Being drunk was very different from being high, but the distance from self that
was still there. Being drunk to him was gaps… moments would pass slowly, but he
would skip right on by them. It was pleasant, but ultimately not what he
wanted.
Oxy was like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer on a cold day. It enveloped
him in its warm tinging embrace. When he first tried it he liked it better than
sex. Then again when he first tried it his sex life had been fairly non-
existent. Everything felt awesome and less complicated. It was this full body
pleasure, you just wanted to cozy up to the fire with your lover and drift back
into oblivion.  The few times he’d over done it most people just thought he was
drunk. There was the same over friendliness, stumbling and slurring, only Dean
and Jo knew the truth that he’d gone to rehab.
He was lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Maybe it started with Dean, but even
if Dean had taken him in with open arms it wouldn’t have mattered. Oxy was the
best boyfriend he’d ever known.  Except when he wound up in the hospital. Oding
on Oxy was a lot like being on Oxy. It was damn near impossible to stay awake
he kept drifting in and out, but that was where the similarities ended. It was
difficult to breath he couldn’t move without throwing up. He must have vomited
like ten times, he was shaking and felt cold.
Going through withdraws in rehab was even worse. Detoxing is kind of like the
flu. You get a laundry list of symptoms. abdominal cramping, nausea, vomiting,
diarrhea, difficulties regulating temperature, tremors, muscle aches, irregular
heart rate, increased blood pressure, runny nose, sweating, insomnia, fatigue.
In a list they sound unpleasant in reality it was much worse.
He would be doubled over in pain sweating as it felt like his stomach was
trying to claw its way out of his body when next moment he could be shaking so
hard he’d shit himself then some woman had to come change the sheets and get
him cleaned up only for him to vomit everywhere an hour later. He could have
gotten Methadone to ease his suffering, he would have come down slowly versus
being slammed down hard. He didn’t deserve a soft landing.
Lucky his drug of choice had been OxyCotin versus Percocet, so his liver was
mostly undamaged, but his cravings were objectively worse. Higher dosage. So
maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. The physical symptoms were only the
beginning. The emotional withdrawal was worse, he suffered from anxiety, mood
swings, trouble concentrating and the drug cravings that never fully went away.
He went to his NA meetings. For a few weeks. It sort of helped, but he wasn’t
devote and the serenity prayer and humbling himself before God didn’t really do
much for him.
He was still clean. For the most part. Lying drunk on your living room floor
wasn’t the picture of healthy habits, but he hadn’t taken any oxy. He lay back
and closed his eyes, to stop the swirling. He cleared his throat and took a
deep breath.
“God, grant me the serenity…” he began. His words seemed to echo in to the dim
of his empty apartment.
“To accept the things I cannot change,” he loved Dean would always love him.
“The courage to change the things I can,” please don’t let me fall back into
that dark spiral of doubt and drugs.
“And the wisdom to know the difference.”
                                      ***
Cas woke up alone on the sofa. It was dark he wasn’t sure how long he had
slept. There was light coming from the kitchen. He sat up and glanced over
sofa. Dean was sitting at the bar hunched over his drink he seemed to be
mulling over something.
His expression was stormy. His brows pinched together his eyes distant. Staring
into the depths of his drink like it could provide all the answers in the
universe.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”  He said quietly. Still staring into his drink.
Cas’s eyes felt swollen and itchy, he must have fallen asleep crying. It had
been a long long time since he’d slept with someone else in the same room.
since he was fifteen.  
“Are you ok?” he found himself asking as he stood up. There was still a great
distance between them. the expanse between the sofa and rest of the living room
to the kitchen, but maybe it was the dimness of the room it felt small. Like he
could reach out and touch him.
“Yeah…” he agreed drawing out the word on a sigh.
“You ever had someone say they love you?” he wondered.
Cas flinched slightly and he could see the apology coming and he spoke before
he could get to it. Cas knew this wasn’t about him, and his weird
relationships.
“Not that I believed.”  Dean nodded. There was only a quarter left in his
bottle. He hefted the glass and tipped in towards him in a toast. “heress to
that.”
“What? Not believing in love?” he wondered circumventing the sofa to walk
closer towards Dean.
“No having unbelievable love.”
Cas chuckled. Who knew Dean was such a romantic.
“I think I should get you to bed.”
His eyes widened his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. “You can’t I’m
drunk breaks the rules.”
Cas laughed again. What a strange man.
“I didn’t mean to fuck dumb ass you’re drunk and need to sleep it off.”
Dean nodded.
“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” He admitted as he carefully preformed a
controlled fall off of the barstool.
He wobbled slightly but didn’t fall. Cas reached out and took his hand. It was
so werid just holding hands he carefully walked him. he was like a child, he
tottered one way then another.
Cas had seen his fair share of drunk assholes, Dean was not one of them.
Cas opened the door to Dean’s bed room, and pulled the sheets back on the bed
so Dean could lay down.  He watched as Dean stood with his arms out for balance
as he tried to kick off his dress shoes without untying them, he had the first
one done and was attempting to remove the second with his black socked foot.
“I’ll be right back.” He swore. As he dashed to the bathroom where he emptied
the small trash can and brought it back to Dean’s bed room he wasn’t sure if he
was gonna puke or not.
Dean had shucked his suit jacket tossing it on the floor by the bed, and was
struggling to lift his shirt over his head with his tie still around his neck,
placing his tanned stomach and muscled chest in view while he was comically
trapped in his shirt.
Cas fought back a laugh.
“Put your arms down.” He chastised him softly. He obeyed like a scolded child.
Cas stepped forward the space between them was very close he gently pulled on
the knot loosening it he slid it out of his shirt collar. It was that moment
Dean remembered his shirt had buttons, he fought valiantly to undo the top one
and failed.  
Cas shook his head and moved to help him.
Under normal circumstances he would have been leery being alone in a drunk
man’s room. Tense and on edge ready to fend off an attack with either clever
ploys or physical force if necessary, but he didn’t feel any danger.
Dean held perfectly still, as Cas undid each button his knuckles brushing
against his chest as he did.
Dean closed his eyes and he could see Dean’s lips moving silently, but he
couldn’t tell what he was saying.
“What are you doing?” Cas asked 
“Thinking about flying…and quarterly reviews” he muttered.
“Why?” Cas wondered as he moved another button down exposing more of Dean’s
chest.
“Flying scares the shit out of me.” he continued. “and quarterly reviews have a
lot of distracting rules corporate makes us do”
“Why do you need a distraction?” he asked and soon as the words left his mouth
he wanted to snatch them back. He knew exactly what Dean was distracting
himself from.
“Oh…”
“I was hoping I could force it away before you noticed.” He muttered with a
laugh shifting in place his hands and his side his erection straining against
his fly. 
Cas was unsure how he felt about it. On the one hand he always found someone’s
desire for him both flattering and terrifying.
“It’s ok” he insisted waving it off. If they were gonna be sort of dating, he
sort of might see his boner at some point if everything worked out.
He paused as Dean shucked his shirt. “I can manage the rest.” Dean assured once
he noticed he paused. Cas nodded and moved towards the door before stepping
back towards Dean all the instincts he’d gained over the years told him that he
shouldn’t continue that he should go to bed and lock the door to make sure Dean
stuck to his word, but he didn’t.
Dean watched as Cas moved towards him, he had more grace than any being he had
ever known. He moved like water he would simply flow from one spot to another
Dean had undone the top button of his fly when Cas returned. He pressed one
palm against his chest the other looped behind his neck pulling him down for a
kiss.
Cas was surprised when Dean remained perfectly still his hands still at his
side his lips following his rather than demanding control of the kiss. The kiss
was tender, soft brush of lips against lips the ghost of warm breath between he
tasted like scotch. He watched as Deans arms twitched to encircle him yet
instead he clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
Their last kiss had been about seduction raw animal need; this kiss was about
trust. Cas needed to know that he could trust this man. He could feel the beat
of his heart beneath his palm as it raced beneath his skin.
Cas’s mouth was soft the piercing harder compared to it, but the slide of his
flesh and the slide of the metal ran together. His lips tingled his eyes were
closed the points of contact between felt hot compared to the negative space
between. His arm about his neck, his hand on his chest, his dizzying lips. It
was interesting not to set the pace. He let Cas take the lead, gasping for
breath between each new touch. Cas’s tongue darted inside his mouth he moaned
beside himself.
Cas tensed afraid he’d gone too far, but nothing happened Dean stayed the same
letting Cas kiss him. hissing as he nipped at his bottom lip, moaning slightly.
Cas’s heartbeat was matching Dean’s as endorphins flooded his body. The kiss
felt like it could go on forever as just this long heady experience, each brush
of lips starting a new wave of feelings in his body.
Emboldened Cas pressed himself against Dean, he was warm, and larger than him
which for once wasn’t frightening him. Dean’s arms stayed fisted at his side.
Dean pulled away clenching his teeth in a groan as Cas rubbed himself against
him, the warmth of his body was separated by a layer of clothing he wished he
could just remove it and allow skin to skin, but he remained where he stood. 
He kept pressing him until Dean fell sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands
catching the edge for support and gripping it even tighter as
Cas crawled onto his lap straddling him as he did wrapping his other hand
around his neck as well.
Cas tried to focus on his skin, on the sensations he could feel, the brush of
his clothes against his body Dean’s warmth radiating through them. He wanted to
stay in his body, everything was feeling good. He didn’t want to leave.
He ground his cock into Dean’s thigh. Dean hissed again in pleasure, the bed
was creaking slightly beneath them, the friction of his cock rubbing on the
fabric of his pants as he practically hummed Dean’s thigh was bordering on
pain, but it felt good. He was surprised by how good it felt. He tried to focus
on it, no on the niggling doubt or guilt he felt for feeling good, he was going
to cum. He was embarrassed by it but he pushed that away too.
Cas had stopped kissing him, now Dean clenched his teeth against Cas’s
movement. The press of his body against his was rubbing him raw, but his cock
was aching for any form of pressure it could receive.
He wanted to touch Cas to coax him closer so they both could receive pleasure
but he didn’t, he’d promised even with his mind floating around him he knew
what he had to do.
Cas was panting, now in a quickening rhythm. He was groaning softly with each
pass and the head of his cock brushed his thigh. He was going to cum. Dean
watched as he bit his lip, he’d never really seen anyone look more beautiful.
Pleasure tore through him surprising him. Cumming his own never felt this good
and the guilt he felt afterwards made any pleasure not worth it. He fell
forward knocking Dean on his back. His arms holing him on either side of his
head. The man was panting as well.  Cas wasn’t sure what to do his confusion
slightly taking the edge of his pleasure he wanted to touch him to help him
out, but he was afraid that if he did Dean would see it as an invitation to
fuck him. he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. This tiny bit of pleasure
was a gift from fucking god, he didn’t want to risk spoiling it, but
disassociating or getting triggered.
Cas was looking down at him his eyes were wide his expression both bewildered
and relieved.
Dean shoved his hand past his unbuttoned fly and into his boxers, and begun to
stoke himself furiously.
“You sure?” Cas asked watching him. he could tell there was guilt there or
something else.
“Yeah.” He grunted out quickly.
Cas rolled off of him lying next to him on the width of the bed the wetness
sticking to him but he didn’t care he’d came on purpose with another person
without disassociating. As he watched Dean pump his fists in his pants. He
couldn’t see his cock… and maybe that was a good thing, he leaned over and
kissed the shell of Dean’s ear licking it. “Come.” He whispered. He’d said to
words to many man before in the same sultry voice, usually because he wanted
them to finish so he could go home, but this time he wanted Dean to cum to feel
half as good as he did.
He was clenching his teeth stroking his cock the best he could in the confined
space, wasn’t time to kick off his clothes. Cas whispered in his ear and he
lost it. his cock exploded pleasure filling his body, his senses swimming. It
took a long while for his breathing to calm. Cas lay next to him breathing just
as heavy until it finally slowed.
He was waiting for the guilt. It almost always came after he did, it was there
in the moment, but always after, but he wasn’t feeling guilty. He knew he
wasn’t cured. Life didn’t work like that. There were night’s when he’d jacked
off without guilt and there were nights when he’d cried himself to sleep after.
Tonight he would revel in the lack of guilt.  Tonight he won.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I always have the hardest time writing Sam hopefully it didn't suck.
     Like Cas said he has a long way to go but I wanted to give him and
     you guys a win, that doesn't mean it will come easy to him the rest
     of the story.
***** A kiss may ruin a human life...A mask tells us more than a face *****
Chapter Notes
     Mild Trigger warning self negativity from Cas.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 Dean felt ashamed. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The light was
reflecting across the room the whiteness of the walls brightening his
surroundings. It was morning. He reached out, Cas wasn’t there. Maybe that was
for the best. He was still dressed, He wore his soiled dress pants and socks.
His mouth felt dry, his eyes scratchy. A pounding was developing in his head
that was right behind his eyes and shame. Shame oozed across his skin like a
layer of slime.
He stood and hissed as he moved. He was sore, his hands ached from keeping them
clenched at his side.
He peeled off his stained clothes and tossed them in the laundry hamper. It was
simply protein, the physical evidence, it could be removed. The emotional
however. There was a weird swirling in his gut. Had he taken advantage of Cas?
He didn’t know.
He walked down the hall towards the bathroom. He didn’t look for Cas. He walked
straight for the cleansing warmth of his shower.
The first spray of water stung the head of his over-sensitive cock. He hissed
in pain.
He tried to think, if he’d said anything to pressure him. The last of the night
was a blur of sensation. He remembered Cas kissing him. A never ending wave
after wave of feeling. He hadn’t touched him, that was true.  He remembered how
damn near impossible that was. How he had clung to every last shred of decency
that he possessed to comply.
He sighed heavily. That wasn’t the only bit of guilt that clung to him. Sam…
while Cas slept he had tried to think about how he felt about Sam. He didn’t
know, but he knew he didn’t want this to come between them. Whether he was his
brother or just a friend he did not want to lose him.
He stayed in the shower longer than he needed. He ran the bar of soap over his
body. He washed his hair. He lingered under the spray of the water because as
long as he remained he didn’t need to come to a decision. When the water begun
to cool he turned off the tap, and wrapped the white towel around his waist.
He walked back to his bedroom, he paused at Cas’s bedroom door. He wasn’t even
sure if he had stayed. If Dean had pressured him, he might have left. Dean
sighed, he would just have to see in a little.
He went to his closet and pulled out a pair of soft blue jeans. The denim
conformed to him like a second skin. He tossed on his comfort shirt, his old
black Skynyrd shirt.
Then he made a phone call.
                                      ***
Something was ringing. At first he thought it was his head. It was aching. His
mouth tasted like a desert, he sat up and fought against a wave of nausea. Fuck
he’d over did it last night. His stomach rolled he could taste bile in the back
of his throat. He held absolutely still waiting for it to pass. He scanned the
room he’d emptied the bottle of vodka around three thirty.  He wasn’t sure of
the source of the ringing. The mechanical sound was very close. Sam blinked the
shaft of light that streamed in through the window was trying to shove a
railroad spike into his brain.
After a moment he realized the sound was his cell phone. He dug clumsily into
his pocket. It was Dean. He hesitated, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to him.
In his hesitation he missed the call. He continued to stare at the phone. He
wasn’t sure if Dean would call back… after a second he got an alert. He had a
voice mail.
He stood and instantly regretted it as he caught himself on the edge of the
couch. God he’d never paid so much for oblivion with Oxy, at least not until
later.
He stumbled his way into the kitchen pulling a glass down pouring himself some
water from the fridge. He took slow sips. The cold water didn’t sit well on his
unsettled stomach. He made it to the sink before he vomited. It was all liquid.
The bitter tastes engulfed his senses his throat and nostrils burning. He
coughed sputtering as he tried to expel the rest of the poison from his body.
He groaned at the pain of his own suffering.
He ran the water washing away the evidence and filling his glass with the warm
tap water, hoping to he could keep it down.
He rinsed his mouth out, spitting several times before taking a drink.
He waited, but his traitorous stomach just continued to roll. He set his glass
down on the coffee table as he gingerly lowered himself into the seat on the
sofa.
 He stared at his phone for a long time before he hit play.
“Heya Sammy.” Dean begun. It felt so normal. Silence crackled along the
recording. He could just picture him running his hand through his hair trying
to think of what to say.
He sighed heavily his voice dropping into more earnest tones.
“We need to talk… would you come by my place as soon as you get this?” 
Sam glanced at the microwave in the kitchen. It was still early. 8:45 he was
running off five hours of sleep and still half-drunk it was perfect.
The texted Dean.
                                      ***
[ I’ll be over after I shower]
Sam texted him back Dean nodded. He walked into the kitchen and opened the
cupboard over the microwave. This conversation needed more than just one cup of
coffee.  He pulled down his drip coffee maker.
He rubbed his aching temples as the coffee begun to percolate. He had no idea
what he was going to say, but he needed to have this conversation.
His pot hissed as condensation landed on the burner. It was a throwback from
his college days. A large twelve cup Mr. coffee he’d bought for twenty dollars
at Walmart.
There had been a few nights where the coffee pot had saved his ass, after
several cups he’d been able to come with the perfect ending to his paper or the
best mnemonic device for his test, except this time it wouldn’t save him.
He had no idea what he was going to do.
                                      ***
Sam took a cab to Dean’s since he wasn’t safe to drive. His wet hair hung about
his face clinging to his chin. His hair was growing long enough he should
probably invest in a blow dryer. He hadn’t stopped for coffee because he wasn’t
sure if he would be able to keep it down. He had managed a few dry crackers,
but he didn’t want to risk it. That was all he needed, to spend this ‘family
meeting’ wrapped around Dean’s toilet puking his guts out.  His mirrored
sunglasses blocked out most of the sun’s hateful rays but his head still
pounded. He was in no mood to be out, but when Dean called Sam answered.
He hit the buzzer, he’d given his key to Jo so that she could set up the party
and he’d never gotten it back.
“Come on up.” Dean told him gruffly.  Sam wasn’t sure what to expect. Angry
butterflies twittered in his stomach.
He knocked on the door and winced god his head hurt. It felt like a rat clawed
open his skull so it could die in there.
Dean opened the door. Sam looked like shit, he wore a rumpled heather green and
white plaid shirt, his hair hung about his face. He hadn’t shaved, he had a day
or two worth of stubble along his jaw, his eyes were hidden behind large
mirrored aviators. His first fearful thought was that he was using again.
“Come on in.” Dean found himself waving him in.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen.” He added. He’d been tempted for a little hair
of the dog and make himself an Irish coffee, but he needed to have this
conversation sober.  
Sam made a pained face. “I’ll pass for the moment.” He muttered shaking his
head.
Dean nodded, gesturing towards the sofa. This conversation wasn’t going to be
pleasant.
            Fuck what was Dean going to say? The expression on Dean’s face made
him feel that he was just going to take him out back and put him down old
yeller style.
“Am I gonna like the direction of this talk?” Sam asked with an awkward
chuckle. His heart fluttering with repressed hope.
“Probably not.” Dean replied glumly. He looked equally hung over. He could tell
by the way he flinched at the light and gingerly turned his head.
Sam sighed, “Ok lay it on me.”  he told Dean spreading his arms wide. He was
tired hungover and lost. If the universe wanted the love of his life to kick
him when he was down, he would rather get it over with.
Dean took a deep breath. “Cas was abused as a child.”
That wasn’t really what he’d been expecting.
“What?” Sam asked. Confused.
“He left foster care he was living on the streets; Sam I took him home I didn’t
expect for this to happen, but it did and I kind of like it.”
Sam laid his left palm over his perpendicular right hand to form a T
“Hold up time out, what are you talking about?”
“You wanted to know why Cas was staying here, that’s why.” 
“Start over because what you’re saying to me makes no sense.”
Dean sighed exasperated but he sat next to their knees brushing.
“When I went to see you at the bar, Cas propositioned me.”
“So you took home a prostitute?” Sam demanded trying to figure out what the
hell he was talking about.
“No…” Dean assured loudly.  “Not really…” he added quickly “Kind of.”
“So which is it?” Sam wondered if he sounded hostile it was because he was.
“He’s a drug dealer, who propositioned me.” Dean continued.
“Oh and that makes it so much better.” Sam leapt to his feet his head ached
stronger in response.
“You’re not listening.” Dean complained.
Sam rolled his eyes forgetting the glasses. “Fine, I’m all ears.” He sneered.
Dean shook himself. “Sam I’m… I’m not straight.” Dean continued trying a
different approach
“Yeah no fucking shit.” Sam scoffed Dean blinked surprised. “Do you think I
would have confessed if I didn’t think I had a shot?” Sam wondered.
The shock on Dean’s face told him all he needed to know.  Yes, he had.
“So what does this have to do with things?” Sam asked. Trying to figure what
Dean was getting at.
“I asked him to stay, because I wanted to experiment, and help us both out.”
Dean finished.
“Why?” Sam wondered.
“Because I like him.”
Could it be as simple as that?  Sam shook his head.
“So where does that leave us?” Sam wondered.
Dean ran his hand through his hair, he was biting his lip.
“I don’t know.” He admitted.
“Do you think I’m ugly or something?” Sam asked curious. Was he just not Dean’s
type?
His face was flushed. “No” he whispered almost as if he was afraid of the
answer.
“So what?”  Sam wondered really wanting to hear his reasoning
“I don’t know alright!” he shouted running both hands through his hair.
“Is that what you wanna here?” he yelled angrily “You’re supposed to be my
brother.” He accused.
“This isn’t supposed to happen.”
“You’re not supposed to be in love with me.” Dean added agitatedly. He was
pacing back and forth in front of him. 
“Yeah, well I’m sorry.” He shouted back not really feeling it.
“If I could turn it off don’t you think I would have a long time ago?”
Dean sighed defeated dropping his arms to his sides.
“So what are we going to do?” Dean wondered. The moment stretched out into long
anxious silence.
“I have a few ideas.” Cas commented pointedly
He stood arms crossed in his long sleeved black t shirt. His hair was gelled up
in a curled Mohawk, he wore artfully ripped black jeans and an electric blue
spiked dog collar around the pale expanse of his neck. His eyes were rimmed by
heavy eye liner, he couldn’t pick out the bruise from this distance, if it
still remained.
Dean glanced at Sam quickly he didn’t seem to know what to think either.
“Isn’t any one gonna ask what they are?” he goaded 
“What are your ideas.” Sam asked standing, he wasn’t sure if there was jealousy
in either man’s reaction.
Cas uncrossed his arms and stepped towards them before walking past him into
the kitchen he pulled down a mug from the cabinet.
“Do you mind?” he asked Dean shook his head spellbound. This was an entirely
different Cas than the one he’d seen last night. This was the same kid he’d
taken home Thursday night.
He poured himself a cup of coffee stirred in rice milk and took a sip before he
seemed to turn back to the topic at hand.
“You know how in the movies when people pretend to date they always have to
kiss.” He commented trailing one black painted nail around the circumference of
his cup.
“And it either winds up like back to the future Marty kissing his mother or
like the numerous other examples and they realized holy shit maybe I do what to
fuck this person.”
“What are you getting at?” Dean wondered.
Cas chuckled slightly, but it was hollow. “I guess I’m going to be that weird
guy in the movie that makes couples kiss in front of him.” 
The moment was think with tension.
Sam removed his glasses, his eyes were bloodshot but not large pupils he wasn’t
high just hungover.
“I like his line of reasoning.” He commented
Dean felt peculiarly like he was being ganged up on.
“Do I have a say in this?” he demanded slightly panicked
“No.” Cas replied unwaveringly
Dean’s heart was beating fast. He glanced nervously back at those blue eyes.
They were firm. There was no sympathy in them, only idol curiosity. He couldn’t
tell how he really felt, he’d perfected his disguise a long time ago.
His glance turned back to Sam’s hazel eyes. he wasn’t sure how Sam was feeling
either. He’d known the man nearly his entire life, but he was guarded.
“This is ridiculous.” Dean insisted awkwardly retreating slightly.
“Yeah.” Cas agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you get out of it, this is a litmus
test.”
Dean licked his lips. Cas was right, and he knew it. If he kissed Sam it would
change everything between them, because he did find Sam attractive. Had for
years, he’d shoved that latent attraction down, he’d buried it. If he kissed
Sam, he would never be able to bury it again.
“I can’t” Dean insisted.
“You can.” Cas maintained resolutely
“I… what we did last night…” he begun looking at Cas and so did Sam his head
snapped towards Cas it was the first time he’d really looked fully at him.
“Doesn’t matter in this.” Cas contended cutting him off “This isn’t about us,
it is about you and him.”
Dean turned towards Sam. He was taller than him, it was something that always
appealed to him. he was six one, there wasn’t very many people taller than him.
His hair had dried it hung softly about his face framing it.
The expression on his face was hard to read, it was a mixture of excitement and
confusion and something else a resistance. He wasn’t sure if that was directed
at him or Cas.
“Let’s do this.” Dean insisted annoyed. He’d be fine, he could ignore it, it
was just a kiss. Except once he stepped towards him he easily lost his bravado
their body’s toe to toe. He could feel the heat radiating off of Sam he laid a
hand on both of Sam’s shoulders bring him closer. He leaned in laying his
forehead against Sam’s he could hear the hitch in the other man’s breathing,
there was a hairsbreadth separating them. The contact of his skin was warm. He
could feel Sam’s minty breath on his lips, the awareness settling straight into
the pit of his stomach as arousal.
“Kiss me.” he whispered. When he couldn’t bring himself to cross the distance.
Sam obliged.
The first brush of his lips sent electricity through him, it was soft
tentative, just a sweet brush of contact. It was a question. One Dean answered,
tilting his head for a better angle he leaned into the kiss. Laying his hand on
the back of Sam’s neck pulling him in. Sam’s arm ghosted up to his laying on
his shoulder. Each pass of Sam’s lips was a tease between a rough rasp as his
stubble drug against his lips leaving them tingling and soft lips. Sam groaned.
Dean pulled back slightly before dipping back in, increasing the pressure his
hand sliding down to Sam’s jaw Sam pressed forward, matching his speed and
intensity, their lips mashed together in a cyclical cycle pulling him deep and
deeper into the other man’s arms.
“Yeah I think that settles that.” Cas commented.
The sound surprised Dean, he’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone.
Sam was breathing heavily and so was he.
“Mind if I talk to you for a minute?” Cas asked gesturing towards Sam.
Sam shrugged but followed him back towards the bedrooms.
Dean felt so very confused. He was fairly certain of his sexuality now, he was
bisexual that was becoming more and more obvious, but his feelings for Sam were
more and more complicated.
                                      ***
Sam’s blood was roaring in his ears. This kiss was intoxicating and gratifying
at the same time. Dean wasn’t impervious to him. While he might object to the
idea of them physically there was no problem between them. The feel of Dean in
his arms… kissing him. Was enough to make him feel physically intoxicated. He
was walking on cloud nine. His heart lifted.
Still, it didn’t mean anything not really. There were too many things in their
way. Dean’s instance that they cling to a childhood notion of familiarity and
this kid Cas. Cas was very different than any person he’d ever pictured Dean
with. His dark clothes and make up, it was the very antithesis of the way Dean
lived his life, now at Sandover.   It was interesting to think of them
together.  Already he’d seen some lightness in Dean that he’d been missing.
Sam followed Cas into the guest room. It was clear this was where the man was
staying which Sam had to admit was a bit of a relief to him. Clothing was
strewn about the room. A black duffle sat at the foot of the bed erupting with
clothes.
“We didn’t fuck.” Cas told him Sam didn’t know the man well enough to read the
emotions in his words and as it was he imagined that was purposeful. The was
direct and to the point, but angry and bitter. So very bitter, and so very
young.
“I didn’t ask.” Sam insisted.
“Yeah… you kind of did.” Cas continued bitterly 
Sam had to admit the kid was astute, maybe he hadn’t asked but he’d been eaten
up with curiosity since last night which had only grown worse after Dean’s
stilted admission of something they had done last night.
“We kissed and dry humped.” He continued very clinically, there was a distance
between what he was saying and any emotions he had.
Sam waited for a pang of jealousy but he was surprised to find none. He loved
Dean, but he didn’t own the man, he’d begrudged him physical satisfaction.
“Listen, I’m just here for the weekend if you want I’ll be out of your hair by
Monday.” Cas begun.
“Is it true you were in foster care?” Sam asked curious. He trusted Dean, but
ultimately Dean was a softy something it was too easy to gain his sympathy. He
needed to know more about this kid that Dean swore he was helping as he helped
himself.
The kid crossed his arms again. “Yeah, what of it?”
“Do you have trouble with sex?”
The kid stiffened his mask slipping slightly mortification covering his face.
He became rigid straightening as he forced himself to stand taller and look
into his eyes.
“Not with your brother so far.” He replied angrily. The barb landed home,
igniting a slight twinge of jealousy. Cas had nothing to hold him back from
Dean.
He could see what Dean saw in the kid, beneath all the bravado, hurt and angst
he was just as lost as they used to be… maybe still were.
“Truce?” Sam proposed truly meaning it. He could see this kid was hurting and
while his presence in Dean’s life complicated his own it wasn’t the kid’s
fault, in any means.
 He was just in the wrong place and the wrong time.
“I’m listening.” He retorted. Crossing his arms, quirking his brow.
                                      ***
Dean found himself pacing the living room, he wasn’t sure why really. Just that
he couldn’t stand to remain still. He wasn’t sure what Cas was talking to his
brother about or if he had any right to still pretend that Sam was his brother
after they had shared the kiss they did.
He heard the door creak open. His heart leapt into action. He watched as Sam
walked towards him, Cas closed the bedroom door behind him.
Dean wasn’t sure who he was more curious about. He couldn’t read either of
their expressions.
“We decided something.” Sam admitted as he walked into the room.
Dean wasn’t sure what direction he’d thought it was going in but when Cas spoke
it was not what he expected.
“It’s 2016, we can be civil.” Sam continued.
“Were both dating you.” Cas spat out cutting off whatever building speech Sam
had been about to say.
Sam shot Cas a look but said nothing.
“What?” Dean wondered.
“Nonexclusive Dating” Cas replied as if that simplified matters.
 “What?” Dean sputtered again
“It was an offer not an ultimatum.” Sam told him casually
 “You interact romantically with both me and Cas.” Sam added trying to clarify.
“You are not beholden to either of us and there won’t be any jealousy between
us, and ultimately you can decide how you feel about me and Cas gets a no
strings attached relationship in the interim.”
“Why…” Dean wondered not really sure why this was happening. Was he dreaming?
Was this some weird sexual nightmare that he was going to wake up from.
“Because as you said you don’t know if you want to be with me that way,” Sam
continued.
“So how do you know till you try?” Cas added.
                                      ***
“Do you have trouble with sex?”
The words made him flinch… Dean had told him? he felt betrayed. No betrayal was
too strong of a word. Dean had to know him to betray him.
Cas was glad that he dressed up today. He’d worn his gothed up clothes because
he’d been nervous seeing Dean. Now he was glad he’d done it because he needed
his armor. He’d just left the room when he’d heard the man’s confession Sam was
in love with Dean. It didn’t take much to put two and two together, that that
was what they had talked about last night that had upset them both.
He always had the worst timing. He had to admit at first he’d been defensive
because he’d been angry. He’d asked Dean when they’d started this mess if there
had been anyone more suited for this then him, but when it came down to it. Cas
knew Dean didn’t know.
He had no idea that he belonged with his foster brother and that this thing
with him was just holding him, back.
He’d seen it when they’d kissed. The yearning there. It was palpable.
It was up to him to make sure it happened. He liked Dean, he’d had his first
real orgasm with the man he deserved to make sure he was happy.
He’d invited Sam aside to admit defeat. He’d been planning on stepping aside
unequivocally letting the man prove to Dean how good they could be without him
in the way. He’s said that he’d stay the weekend but he’d been planning on
jumping the next bus out of town. Until the man proposed a truce. “What do you
mean?” he asked watching the other man. He was more Dean’s type. He was tall, a
lot taller than him. he seemed smart and competent, he knew Dean more than just
a night, and he wasn’t a fucking tainted prostitute who got fucked by a family
member, he was a better match for Dean in every way.
“I mean It’s only fair right?”
“What is?” Cas wondered as his eyes traveled over the other man. He was
attractive, he was tall broad expanse of a chest long hair, hazel eyes.
“We can be adults about this right?” he continued.
Cas tilted his head to the side studying him.  
“Yes.” Cas agreed not really sure what he was agreeing to. Last night was a
fluke and he knew it. He was better off packing his bags and moving on than
trying to replicate it so why not let someone who actually loved Dean have a
shot.
Cas was pretty sure eventually with enough practice he might be able to have
sex like a normal person who wasn’t fucking molested by their mother, but love…
He didn’t think he could ever trust someone enough to love them.
He’d loved his brother… in a completely familial way, but Gabe, he’d killed
that with his disbelief.
The absolute worst reaction to show someone when they tell you they have been
raped is disbelief. He’d told Cas that he was wrong, that he was confused, that
their mother would never do something like that and he should stop telling
lies.
He’d loved his mother… as much as he hated her.
No he wasn’t capable of love.  Dean should be happy that he could have love.
“We can both date Dean.” Sam continued. “Let him decide if he wants to get
exclusive.”
Cas laughed, until he realized that the man was serious.
Then he laughed even harder.
“Dean doesn’t really want me.”  Cas informed him.
“He’s just… experimenting and I was convenient.”
Something strange crossed the other man’s face, it wasn’t pity or sympathy and
yet it was still empathetic.
“Let’s let him be the judge of that.”
Cas couldn’t understand why he was doing this? Why would anyone try to convince
someone they cared about to fuck a stranger?
“Why are you doing this? Do you have some cuckold fetish or something?”
Sam shook his head.
“No, I love Dean, but I don’t own him. If he doesn’t want to be with me that’s
his decision. Hell he might even decide he’d would rather be with you.”
Cas snorted.
“No way, I don’t need no strings on me.” he muttered not really sure if he even
meant it. A fantasy boyfriend hovering in the back of his mind with green eyes
and kind words.
“So you don’t even want anything serious?” Sam asked surprised.
“More like am not capable of”. He murmured then frowned as he watched Sam
nodded. His joke might have been in poor taste and off hand, but it let Sam
know something about him that Cas wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with.
“Listen this doesn’t have to be a rivalry; we can do this as friends.” Sam
asserted extending his hand to shake and Cas felt like he actually meant it,
and what the hell. The last crazy scheme he’d agreed too had been fun might as
well add to it and if nothing else it took some of the pressure off him. Cas
wasn’t used to being the only guy someone slept with, now he wouldn’t be. So if
he wasn’t up to it he didn’t have to feel guilty sending Dean away with blue
balls, cause he could all ways call Sam. It was a win win really. Honestly it
didn’t bother him a bit.
Chapter End Notes
     Meh on this chapter but its still moving along hopefully it will pick
     up in the next chapter was laying the ground work here.
***** An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
*****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry if this one sucks I'm in a weird writing funk had trouble with
     this chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Sooo?” Dean begun coughing slightly his throat felt dry from his night over
indulging and thick with tension.  He cleared his throat his clenched fist
covering his mouth. He was actually kind of nervous.
“How is this gonna work?” He wondered uncomfortably “Are we talking double
dates? Single dates?” he coughed again and he knew he was blushing “Er um
threesomes?”
Cas snickered he was angled over the back of the sofa bent slightly forward
both palms flat on the back as he watched Dean pace before him.
“Yeah you fucking wish.” He continued laughing to himself, shaking his head.
Sam was harder to read, Dean had known the man a long time, but his expression
was guarded.
Sam was pensive.  He was sitting at the bar resting his chin on his arm his
palm upwards. “All valid options…” Sam murmured thoughtfully.
Cas jerked in his direction dumbfounded by his words and Dean found himself
more than a little surprised as well. Not that he’d never thought of it. Not
this particular configuration per say but the idea of a threesome had stared in
a fantasy or two. He’d be lying to say otherwise.
Cas shot his brother a sexually charged look. His eyes skimming over his back
moving down to his ass before flicking up to his face.
Cas shrugged.  “Yeah ok….” He muttered seemingly fascinated “Sure, why not?” He
continued accepting the notion.  “Not guarantying anything …” he continued
hastily “But I’d give it a go.”
“This is insane.” Dean muttered to himself. He had to be fucking dreaming. This
wasn’t real. These kinds of situations didn’t happen in real life.
Cas shrugged. “Probably.” He agreed.  He was grinning ear to ear. Cas found his
obvious discomfort funny. 
A twinkle of mirth flickered in his face. Sam was still pensive.
“Can we talk?” Sam finally asked him.
Cas shrugged again. “You two go talk… I’ll see what I can do about breakfast.”
He assured.
Cas watched as Dean and Sam left to room. He sighed heavily once they were out
of earshot sagging with relief. He wasn’t sure he could keep this up. Yeah he
liked Dean and there was a time in his life where he’d be thanking his lucky
stars that two hot ass guys wanted to fuck him. actually two, three days ago
he’d have been DTF like nobody’s business, but that was the difference. Before
it would have been a status symbol, a piece of evidence that he was desirable,
valuable and wanted. Now he had to decide if he actually wanted to have sex.
 Not as an affirmation, or a tool, or a weapon, but for whatever reason people
actually had sex for. Intimacy maybe? Still he wasn’t sure how he felt about
that. He’d meant what he said he wasn’t sure he could let anyone into his head
or his heart… he guessed he needed to start with just letting people in his
body and see if he could move from there. Casual sex… no that wasn’t right,
he’d already been doing that. Casual dating maybe? He shrugged mentally. He was
here for a good not a long time, he would figure out what he wanted along the
way and hope that it was something he was allowed to have.
The air in the apartment felt too think he glanced around the kitchen he didn’t
know what he was doing, he didn’t know the first thing about cooking. He felt
like he was having trouble breathing. He would just go for a walk, he briefly
thought about leaving a note but he wasn’t in the state of mind to search out
pen and paper. If he stayed gone that long he’d text Dean. He figured the men
could use a bit of a break from him as it was.
He got weird looks in the lobby. That shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.
One woman actually sneered at him. he kept taking deep breaths, he just needed
fresh air.
He pushed passed the glass doors of the entrance to Dean’s apartment.
Everything looked different in the daylight. It seemed so wholesome, so very
removed from what he was used to, briefly he began to wonder how much an
apartment would cost in a place like this. A place with a lobby and a doorman.
A place where the trees had little wrought iron fences around them and every
hundred feet or less was neat wrought iron trashcans. The street was clean; he
wasn’t used to that either. he didn’t see and cigarette butts lingering at the
edges of the street. It was cold, the cold morning air leached into his
clothing. His breath hung in the air as he shoved his hands in his pocket. It
was then he realized that his phone wasn’t in his pocket. He must have left it
on the bed in his room. He briefly thought about going back for it but decided
against it, he just needed stretch his legs.
He started walking, he probably should have better checked his direction, but
he just turned and moved.
He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked, eyes trained on the ground. Did
this really change things? Besides making him a third wheel… no not really. He
was there for the same things. He wanted to experiment, see if he could fuck
for himself not someone else. If anything it left his feeling oddly safer. He
wondered as he walked the pattern of it was soothing, the slap of his shoes as
they hit concrete, he was used to walking. Transportation cost money, and money
bought other things like food shelter and booze. So he walked.
He wished he’d brought his phone again he wanted to listen to music. He needed
to think. If he left where would he go? What would he do? He had to admit he’d
spent most of his life reacting to things rather than planning them. He hadn’t
planned to leave foster care, he just left. He wanted to get out, what Cooper
had done… he’d thrown what little he’d owned into a black duffel and ran. He’d
hopped the first bus out of town. It hadn’t mattered where it was going, he
just wanted out.
That had been his pattern of being for years now. When things got complicated
he left town. After all there was nothing keeping him there after all. Except
now their kind of was. Not love of course. That was farfetched, but he liked
Dean and he was young… Dean seemed like the kind of mistake he would regret not
making for the rest of his life if he ran away.
He was young. He could afford a mistake or two.
He kept walking aimlessly for a few blocks. His feet scuffing the concrete as
he went. Why was he hesitating? Maybe that was a better question. What was he
afraid of? Being used? He’d been used his whole life, hell sometimes he allowed
people to use him, he wasn’t afraid of that.
Being hurt. Same answer, he’d been hurt, more than he thought possible and he’d
survived. He’d survived physical and emotional beatings. He cut to feel the
pain to keep him grounded. No he wasn’t afraid of being hurt either.
Maybe he was afraid nothing bad would happen and he’d want to stay.
The thought hit closer to home than he would have liked. It was true. What if
he was happy here, but unwanted, then what?
His brother had once said that he loved failure, because it was easier than
success. Maybe that was true as well. His brother was around Sam’s age. He
hadn’t spoken to him in over five years. The courts had been in the process of
awarding him custody when he’d ran. Gabe had been nineteen when the truth came
out. His mother had Gabe young when she was sixteen, not that there was any
correlation to having children young and abuse.
Cas didn’t know why his mother was the way she was. Nobody really seemed to
have much insight into it and that was fine really. He didn’t want to know why.
He glanced up. He didn’t know where he was. For a brief moment fear flashed
through him. he took deep breaths. He was fine he just needed to retrace his
steps.
Nothing really looked familiar, then again everything on this side of town felt
foreign to him.
                                      ***
Dean followed Sam into his bedroom he had never really felt self-conscious
alone in a room with Sam before… no that wasn’t really true, because after he
discovered this little crush of Sam’s he’d gone out of his way to never be
alone with Sam. He’d always had a buffer, first bobby then Jo, then whatever
girl he was dating, then Lisa and Ben. 
“What’s up?” he asked aiming for casual but failing miserably he sounded
nervous even to his own ears.
“I am not trying to force you into anything.” Sam insisted. His brows were
drawn up into a deep frown.
“If you don’t want to do this I would never make you.” He added. He was
glancing around the room trying to avoid eye contact.
“I know I’m a mess…”
“Do you think that’s why?” Dean cut in surprised.
Sam blinked at him owlishly. “I know my drug habit…” he tried again.
Dean laid a hand on either of his shoulders and turned the taller man to face
him.
“Dude that has nothing to do with this.” Dean insisted. Sam flattened his lips
clearly holding his tongue.
“It doesn’t” Dean assured gently. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.” He
added the oddly felt embarrassed at his own vehement response. 
Maybe that was actually part of it. Not Sam’s worth, his own.
Dean knew Sammy deserved someone way better than himself.
He deserved someone who wasn’t emotionally constipated, as Lisa used to say.
Dean never let her in, not really and how could he when he was hiding something
this big, because it wasn’t just that he was attracted to men that was the
problem. It always came back to Sam.
It was sick to a certain degree wasn’t it? He’d known him since he was four how
could he be attracted to him?
Admittedly it didn’t start in childhood. For him it started as adults. Dean
became aware of the crush when Sam was fifteen, but Sammy was just a kid. Dean
was twenty-one the idea of Sam having a crush it was harmless, and flattering
in a strange way, but he hadn’t reciprocated. Sam had seemed so young and he
had been deep in denial of his attraction to men. Dean had assumed that he
would grow out of it as he grew older. He’d thought it was hero worship at best
and isolation at worst. Moving around as much as they did, getting pulled out
of one school or another hadn’t left much time for Sam to make friends. Dean
figured Sam would meet a nice guy that he was head over heels for and that
would be the end of it.  He’d felt a twinge of something when he’d discovered
Sammy naked in bed with the asshole football player that had spent all of
junior year trying to get into Sam’s pants. It wasn’t jealousy, not really, but
this strange sense of anger. An urgent displeasure that Sam’s first time had
been reduced to a quick fuck. That kid didn’t last long, he hadn’t really used
Sammy, but teenage romance was fickle.
The first time in happened was a dream.  It had started like any other dream
really; he’d been in the garage at Bobby’s wearing his blue coveralls pulled
down to his waist his white tank spotted with grease. Sam had been there; he’d
been wearing a light blue dress shirt, that a was a bit big on him the tiniest
hint of a white tank beneath it peeking out from his neckline. It was same one
he’d worn under his graduation robe eight months prior. His hair had been
combed, he wore slacks.
The same moment happened to a point. Dean had been staying with Bobby after his
graduation till he could find a job. Sam had just comeback from a date, not
with the football player… some other kid. It hadn’t gone well Sam had come back
early. In the dream and reality Sam had offered to help him with the car. Dean
had simply been tinkering with the car partially so he wouldn’t think about Sam
out on a date, but that wasn’t something he realized till much later.  Sam had
stripped off the shirt wearing just his white tank, the material had clung to
him. In reality Dean had quickly looked away confused by his sudden admiration
of his “brother’s” looks. In the dream he’d continued to strip, removing his
shirt, stepping towards him with a coy smile before kissing him.
He’d woken up, with the most confusing and stubborn boner of his life.
It was a dream that haunted him for years after. Sometimes it was the same
scene. Other times it was something different. He’d had the dream the night
Lisa left. In that dream Sam had been in his bed, it had felt so real, he’d
felt solid and warm.
If he was being completely honest with himself. Sam was why he rushed things
with Lisa.
Sam’s twentieth birthday party. Dean had been drunk, probably too drunk. His
present to Sam had been a very expensive and well-made fake id, so Sam had a
few beers in him as well.
They’d gone out to a dance club, it wasn’t really a gay club, because Dean was
very much afraid of anyone learning his secret but he’d enjoyed dancing. Lisa
had, work in the morning so she’d cried off, they had only been dating three
months or so.
He had a feeling that the cute bartender had been over pouring him, but that
was just an excuse.
he gone to the john, to sit for a second away from the pounding music and
whirling lights. He’d lost track of Sam; he’d been dancing with some blonde the
last he saw, getting pretty hot and heavy, which was why Dean took that last
shot of whisky that was kicking his ass.
He’d been about to leave when they burst through the door. Sam and the blonde.
They were kissing like there was no tomorrow.  They locked the bathroom door
and continued kissing. Now if Dean had been smart he would have come forward
announced his presence and there would have been awkward laughing that was it,
but his drunken mind decided hiding was better. He pulled his legs up as the
blonde briefly glanced under the stalls before turning back to Sam.
He sucked Sam off.
Dean hadn’t been able to see with his position hunched up on the toilet, but he
could hear.
Sam’s hitched breathing and his moans.
He had a very unbrotherly reaction to the sounds that Sam made, but it was more
than the fact that it was Sam. He’d been terrified by his reaction. His desire
for men had been buried to the deepest recesses of his brain. At the time he
hadn’t even been watching porn, he’d been trying so hard to forget about that
part of himself. His desire for men in general and more specifically a man that
should be his brother left him so emotionally terrified he’d gone home to Lisa
and fucked her like his life depended on it. That maybe if he could have her he
could erase his desire for men, his desire for Sam.
It hadn’t worked.  He wasn’t gay he knew that a lot of people made the false
assumption that bisexuality was just a phase that someone always eventually
chose on over the other. Dean knew that wasn’t true, he’d been dating women all
his life and tried so hard to ignore his sexuality for men that he’d pretended
he was straight, he knew what denial felt like, but he also knew that even if
he fell in love with a man his desire for woman would never leave either.
“Listen Sam.”  Dean begun thinking he wasn’t sure how to explain his reluctance
to explore his desire for him.
They weren’t blood related that was true and they hadn’t been brothers for
years. Not really. Dean’s awareness of Sam’s crush had kept him firmly aware of
their separation. On the surface he’d played the brother role, but ever since
Sam was nineteen he’d known that he wanted him, deep down on the same level
that he’d known that he wanted Ryan Reynold. He’d also known that if he ever
started a relationship with him and it ended badly it would end the only good
thing in his life and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk that, but he would
lose his now if he didn’t try.
“We can try.” Dean told him.  Sam smiled
“How do we start?” Sam wondered.
“I guess we lay down ground rules.” Dean admitted
He left the bedroom, Cas wasn’t in the kitchen. He frowned. He wondered where
he was.
“Where’d the kid go?” Sam wondered.
“Cas.” Dean supplied. Sam quirked a brow that showed he knew his name.
Dean begun to wonder if Cas left because he was upset. Did Sam pressure him
into this plan? Dean dismissed the idea. Sam wasn’t like that. Still where
could he have gone?
Dean pulled out his phone and dialed
Come here rude boy, boy Can you get it up?
The song continued until he found the source on the bar.
“Shit,” Dean swore. He left his phone
“He can’t have gone far let’s go.”
                                      ***
Sam wasn’t jealous. Not really. He was surprised however, but he shouldn’t have
been. Dean was a guardian. He looked after people, had his whole life. Why
wouldn’t he look out for this new kid in his life. Sam needed to stop thinking
of him as a kid, maybe compared to Dean he was, but Sam was only five years
older than him. The distance that separated him and Dean was greater than that.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about him, he understood that Dean needed this
distance from him. It took the pressure off. Kept things casual. He could
handle casual, but also the idea of another man touching Dean left him feeling
confused.
He liked it to a certain degree. Which surprised him. He liked the idea of
Dean’s mouth full with the other man’s cock as he thrust into him.
He’d never really considered non-monogamous relationships in the past, but
really he’d never had a long term monogamous relationship either.
He had a lover for the night and that was just it really. It had been years
since he’d been on a proper date. He met men in bars and took them home,
sometimes they never even made it home. He was careful of course. He wore
condoms and made any partners wear them, and he got tested regularly. He wasn’t
opposed to the idea of non-monogamy. His heart had always been taken.
“There!” Sam called out spotting the kid walking down the street a little way
up.
Dean moved the car. Towards him.
“Hey get in.” Sam called out. Cas jerked his head up from where he stared
firmly at the ground.
Cas hopped into the car, sliding into the backseat. Dean reached behind him
handing him his phone.
“Sorry.” Cas muttered. “ I needed the air.” He told them.
“You don’t have to do this.” Dean insisted again.
And for some reason that made him want to do it all the more, because he didn’t
have to.
“I know… I want to.”  he admitted.
                                      ***
They were back in Dean’s living room. Sitting on his sofa, Dean was pacing
before it.
Sam’s leg was touching his. He knew he shouldn’t be focused on the contact
because it was entirely unsexual still the warmth of his leg was confusing him.
“So what how do we do this? Round Robin?” Dean wondered.
There was an interesting idea. Cas glanced over at Sam. He’d sort of figured
they were sharing Dean versus all dating.
He had to admit he was more interested in Dean, but Sam was attractive and he
seemed decent enough. He’d let worse guys fuck him that was for sure.
“Let’s play it by ear.” Sam commented and Cas felt oddly dismissed and the idea
irked him. Yeah he knew he wasn’t playing center stage in this show but he was
still part of the band. Sam didn’t have to act like he was nobody.
“Then what do you wanna do rock paper scissors for Dean’s ass cherry?”
Dean coughed loudly choking on his own spit.  
Sam stared daggers at him.
“What?” Cas demanded innocently feeling oddly warmed up to the topic “If we are
playing a game maybe we should have some rules. You know like turn order.” He
continued snarkily.
“Do you wanna be the first one to fuck him and I can be the first fuckee or
would you rather do it the other way around?”
Dean walked into the kitchen pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and
taking deep drags. Sputtering as he tried to gain control over himself. His
face was beet red.
True Cas was being purposefully crude, but if they were grown up enough to do
it. They were grown up enough to talk about it.
“I figured we would leave that up to Dean.” Sam commented tersely.
“Seems like this is something we should decide ahead of time.” Cas insisted.
“Why?” Sam wondered.
“So I won’t have to worry about you getting mad at me or Dean if he fucks me
first or vice versa.”
Sam was frowning, Dean was hiding in the kitchen.
“Listen let’s not pretend here.” Cas continued. “I’m temporary.”
Sam didn’t say anything. Cas turned back to Dean who avoided his eyes.
“Yeah that’s what I thought.” He sustained
“I hate to be the bad guy here, but I don’t want you to come back later and get
mad that I broke an unwritten rule. So let’s write them down.”
Sam had to admit the kid had a point. He was being unreasonable and insecure.
He wanted Dean to pick him because he wanted him not from any group decision
but he also knew that Cas had a point. It wasn’t fair to put all that on Dean.
Dean wanted guidelines and that was the adult way to do it.
“Ok boundaries are good.” He conceded,
“But how do we start the discussion?”
Cas shrugged.
“Cas and I already agreed on some boundaries between us.” Dean commented
joining the conversation.
“One being no one has sex drunk… I think that would be a good start to keep
everyone from making any more mistakes.” He was looking at him; it was then Cas
realized Dean might regret what they did last night. He hadn’t really thought
of that. He already broke one of the rules great.
            “No one can touch me, without my permission.” Cas insisted. Dean
knew the reason why; he’d already agreed to it and had proven himself, he
didn’t want to tell Sam. He didn’t want to explain it again. Luckily he didn’t
have to. Sam nodded.
“It is okay to have uneven relationship involvement levels.” Sam continued.
Cas nodded. He could go for that. It was fine if Sam and Dean were deeper than
him. He was all surface.
“No lies.” Dean said quietly from where he stood behind the couch.
That caught Cas’s attention he watched Dean.
“If we are gonna do this we’ve got to be honest with each other. If something
bothers someone we’ve got to talk through it.”
“Condoms.” Cas maintained he’d already had that conversation with Dean. “I
don’t bareback with anyone.”
Sam nodded. He glanced at Dean, did that mean that he should use condoms with
him?
Cas caught the look Sam shot Dean.
“I don’t care if you two use them, but I won’t have sex without a barrier.” It
was an element of sex that he had control over.
“We should get tested.” Dean commented. He was back in the kitchen pouring
himself a mug of coffee.  
“I got tested last week, but I will go again.” Cas replied.
“Get me a cup would you?” Sam asked Dean. They both take their coffee black.
“What about sexual activities?” Cas wondered trying to get to the nitty gritty
details.
Sam’s frown deepened as he thought his brows furrowing.
“I think…” he begun pondering. “It would be unfair to limit them.”
Dean joined them in the living room but he chose to stand because of the
limited space on the sofa.
“It wouldn’t be fair to say limit by type of sexual activity; it is too broad
of a stroke.” Sam continued finishing his thought.
“So if I suck his cock you’re not gonna come back later and be jealous?” Cas
wondered.
“Let’s just not discuss what we do with other partners.” Dean asserted
uncomfortably
“I didn’t say that.” Sam persisted ignoring Dean. “Being jealous isn’t the end
of the world, it just depends how we deal with it.”
Cas nodded. Sam was right. He didn’t really want to listen to the by blows of
what he and Dean did either.
“Can you think of anything else?” Cas asked the room speculatively.
“We don’t tell anyone.” Dean said firmly. Sam felt a twinge of sadness.
“Until we know what this thing is we don’t go telling people about it.” Dean
appended.
Sam could respect that.
“What about threesomes?” Cas wondered.  Sam turned towards him on the sofa
their knees touching again.
“You were the one who didn’t want to rule them out.” Cas added sheepishly.
“I’m actually warming up to the round robin idea.” Sam rejoined with a slight
smile.
“So how do we decide who goes first? Cas wondered. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?”
“Jesus Christ.” Dean swore he was blushing slightly. “I can’t believe you two
are doing this.?” He muttered. “playing "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe to decide which
of you has sex with me first. “
“Actually… I was wondering about a date.” Cas replied correcting him. Sam
nodded his agreement.
Dean felt himself growing even redder embarrassed.
“You can go first.” Sam decided, this was his shot with Dean he wasn’t going to
let a little social awkwardness and jealously get in his way.
“Does that mean we’re going out too?” Cas wondered. An odd expression on his
face. Sam glanced over the teen his eyes skimming over his body. Sam had to
admit he found him attractive, what did he have to lose?
“Yeah… why not.” Sam said with a smile. It could be fun, and this was about
fun.  It didn’t have to be about sex between them unless they wanted it to be.
Dean wasn’t sure how he felt. Which was probably why he didn’t speak much
during the negotiations.
He was strangely excited.
“So what now I take Cas on a date, then Sammy, then you two go out?” Dean
wondered.
“Then double date.” Cas added with a wink. “Just to be fair.” He was smiling.
Being playful it was hard to read his true feelings, but he seemed equally
excited.
It was dangerous. This game they were playing, because it wasn’t a game. It was
real with real hearts on the line and real consequences. Still it felt like in
a lot of ways the best damn idea he’d ever seen in all his life.
Chapter End Notes
     Let me know what you think especially when it comes to direction you
     want dean's sex life to go because right now I'm winging it.
***** The very essence of romance is uncertainty *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warning
     anxiety and depression
See the end of the chapter for more notes
This wasn’t the first time Dean had gone to the clinic for STD testing, he used
to go every couple of weeks, depending on how often he got new partners, but it
was the first time he went with a group. Cas and Sam sat next to him in the
plastic waiting room chairs. He could hear muzak playing in the background of
the waiting room speakers. Dean fidgeted waiting for his name to be called. Cas
had his headphones in Dean could hear bits of drums and synthy guitars the kid
was gonna blow his ears out. He kept his eyes on the floor, but he could see
him taping his foot and nodding his head along with the music.
Sam was reading on his phone. He couldn’t see what he was doing from here and
he wore his mirrored sunglasses but he knew Sam, and the way he slowly scrolled
was indicative of him reading.
Dean was just ready for this part of the day to be over with. It felt like the
last few days had been stretched out, time moving both painfully and mercifully
slow.  Cas wouldn’t let him pay for his test, Dean tried to point out that it
wasn’t part of their original agreement, which he probably should have thought
of actually, but Cas said that he paid his own way.  
It was over really in fifteen minutes, he peed in the cup and had his blood
drawn for good measure. He hadn’t had any symptoms, and it had been a while
since he’d had sex but he figured it was better to have proof.
 He’d have his test results in 24 to 72 hours, but usually he got them within
the day.
“Now that we got that part over who wants lunch?” Dean asked genially.
Sam glanced over at Cas, he didn’t have any other plans at the moment but he
also wasn’t sure if he wanted to have this weird awkward party go on any longer
than it had to.
“I could eat.” Cas agreed with a nod.
Sam hesitated, before nodding as well. He could stay through lunch.
They wound up at a dinner. Which surprised Sam, He hadn’t seen Dean eat bacon
in what two years.
Admittedly it was turkey bacon, but still. He ordered an egg white, spinach and
bacon omelet.
Cas ordered a club sandwich, Sam got a BLT, only partially because he wanted to
see the look on Dean’s face when he smelt actual bacon.
There had been a bit of confusion on how they should sit when they came to the
booth. They settled it by having Sam and Cas sit together leaving Dean sitting
alone on the opposite side.
            “So now what?” Dean wondered they’d already made their orders and
was now idly sipping their drinks until the waitress brought out their food.
Small talk was awkward on a normal day but this felt even more inelegant than
normal
“Where are we going on our date?” Cas wondered. Dean glanced over at Sam
briefly almost as if he was trying to decide if this was acceptable
conversation topic.
Sam inclined his head curious. He hadn’t really thought of it either.
“Good question? Should we place a price restriction?” Sam asked, he knew Cas
had a limited fund, he wasn’t sure how much money the kid even had if he had
been living on the street. He refused Dean’s attempt to pay for his test. He
didn’t appear to be interested in Dean for his money at least.
“I think we should get to pick, not Dean.”  Cas added. Sam turned to him with a
strange conspiratorial grin.
“That would make things interesting.” Sam agreed.  
“Do I get a say in this?” Dean wondered.
“Nope.”
“Fine then I pick were you two go out to then” he insisted playfully. This was
surprisingly easy. Sam he had a rapport with, he knew him, but Cas added a
whole other level of energy. Yet at the same time, it felt easy with him as
well.
He seemed oddly lighter than he’d been this morning. Dean had to admit this
situation was spinning out of his control, he needed to talk to Sam. He’d
mentioned some of Cas’s problems he knew it wasn’t really his place to talk
about it, but he also didn’t want Sam to accidently pressure Cas.
He knew he should worry about his own date; after last night he knew he also
needed to talk to Cas. He didn’t think that he pressured him, but there were
still things they needed to talk about.
Sam’s leg brushed against his again. Cas shot him a look he seemed unaware of
the contact. Was he just being overly sensitive to his personal space? Cas
scooted further into the booth. He should have taken the outside spot; he was
feeling a little cornered. He was losing his appetite. He was nervous about all
of this. He was basically signing up for a sexual smorgasbord, when he’d never
been able to make it off the kid’s menu in the past.
Sure he fucked a lot in his past, but honestly he wasn’t exactly experienced.
It was always a hit or miss. It was usually fun, but sometimes he laid with his
head against the wall and counted to hundred over and over again till it was
finished.
Honestly he didn’t care if Sam and Dean fucked first. This wasn’t a competition
and even if it was he wasn’t the completive type. Not to mention Sam wasn’t his
opponent, if anyone was trying to take him down it was himself.
He was still happy about last night, it had been nice, but he wasn’t sure if he
could replicate it but he wanted to try. He had to admit he had fun getting
Sam’s goat about it, because the man clearly did care. Maybe he didn’t want to
admit, but he’d seen his face. He did not like the idea of Cas being Dean’s
first, but he also wasn’t a complete asshole. He was trying to be fair. It had
to be harder for Sam because he loved Dean, Cas didn’t have that same problem.
He liked Dean that was true, he seemed like a really good guy who deserved a
fair break in life, but then again everyone could use that.
It was hard to imagine that just a few days ago he was willing to sell his ass
for a nice place to sleep, and in a way he still wasn’t above it. Not really.
This thing that Dean was trying to teach him, that sex was something between
two people not just done for other people was interesting, but ultimately he
wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just as self-destructive as his other life endeavors,
if he learned how sex was truly supposed to be it would make it all that harder
to go back to being numb.
Ultimately he was still basically at the mercy of Sam and Dean. The moment they
were tired of this arrangement was the moment he had to move on. Sure if he was
done he could leave sooner, but leave for what? An underpass? A LGBT youth
shelter, if he was lucky?
The longer he stayed here the starker his life begun to look in comparison.
He didn’t like giving up control of his life, because that meant trust. He
didn’t really trust anyone.
“Earth to Cas.” Dean commented
“Huh?” he asked focusing on the conversation again.
“Can you pass the salt?” Dean asked again uncertainly, he looked like he had
noticed his meandering thoughts.
                                                        
Their food had arrived and Cas had been too lost in thought to notice.
Mechanically he handed Dean the salt shaker. He forced a smile before turning
to Sam.
“Hey shove out.” He instructed scooting towards Sam. Somehow the giant was able
to gather himself up and move out of his way.
“Where you going?” Dean wondered. If he was concerned he was able to keep that
from his voice, he sounded merely curious. Good.
“Gotta take a piss.” He called back rushing towards the confines of the
bathroom. It was single occupancy. Thankfully it was clean or as clean as a
diner bathroom ever was, it smelled like that strangely waxy overly floral hand
soap and lemons. The room was dimly light by one several bare florescent bulbs
overhead. The hummed slightly as he flicked the switch. The white porcelain
toilet looked stark against the dim of the room and dark grey of the tiles on
the walls and floor.
The mirror over the plain white sink was small and slightly foggy, he stared
into his own eyes in the mirror. Why was he even doing this? He wondered. If he
kept this up, if he learned to like sex, learned to like Dean, and maybe even
Sam then what?
Nobody would be happy with him as a third wheel forever. This relationship or
whatever it was, was on a strict time limit. He focused on his breathing,
trying to keep it steady.  
He needed an exit strategy. As much fun as this was he couldn’t count on it
lasting very long. He had most of the two grand left, but that wouldn’t last
him as long as you think, not with bus fair and motel and food, even quicker if
he actually tried to get an apartment. Which would be virtually impossible for
a nineteen-year-old with no credit and sporadic job history with a few drug
based charges on his criminal record. Especially since he hesitated leaving a
paper trail. He was fairly certain his brother wasn’t looking for him, but the
idea that he might find him left prickling waves of apprehension across his
entire body. Gabe wasn’t his mother, he never hurt him, physically, but he
wanted no contact with his old life.
His problem was still the same. He needed money. As fun and diverting as this
was he needed to remember that.
 
Dean watched as Cas stood and hurried quickly to the restroom, his food
untouched. Something upset him. Dean made a mental note to ask him about it
later.
He assumed now was as good a time as any to talk to Sam. He knew he was
breaching Cas’s trust here and he wanted to be as brief and vague as possible
so that he wouldn’t expose what Cas told him in confidence.
“Cas was molested as a child.” Dean whispered leaning over the table so that
Sam could hear his hushed voice.
“So you said.” He agreed. There was sympathy in his eyes, but still curiosity.
“This isn’t just about us ok.” Dean insisted understanding shone in Sam’s eyes.
“I would never hurt him.” he swore While Dean knew it was true he still felt
hesitant.
“I know.” Dean agreed nodding holding his hands up trying to soften his words.
“He’s just been through so much.” 
Dean knew he wasn’t the type of man to take advantage of someone. Sam was
patient and kind and always giving, but Cas was also fragile.
Sam smiled. Dean cared so much about everyone. Not that he didn’t feel for the
kid, it was true. He’d been through the same system as the both of them. He
knew it could just have easily been him or Dean who was hurt, and they had been
hurt, just not in the same way. He’d seen the damage done to his peers.
Sam knew that Dean wasn’t critiquing him he was just trying to look out for
this kid, but it felt as usual it was his job to remind Dean to be practical,
he had business acumen in spades but with people, even given his history he
trusted people, perhaps a bit too easily.
“Where is he from?” Sam wondered casually rereleasing his loaded question.
Dean moved to answer but paused his mouth agape.
“I don’t… um”
“Does he have a criminal record?” Sam continued.
Dean’s face still reflected a perplexed expression.
“You said he sold drugs, does he take them as well?” he watched as Dean’s frown
deepened.
“What’s his last name… hell is Cas even his real first name?”  He was willing
to give the kid the benefit of the doubt that was true, and he didn’t get any
bad vibes off him, but there was just too much they didn’t know about him. That
was fine for a night, he’d had one night stands, he didn’t know their names or
where they were from, but this thing with Cas was evolving into something
different. They couldn’t maintain this strictly enforced distance while
building up a layer of trust. One foot in and one foot out. Open honest
communication was the basis for every relationship… well every relationship
that mattered, that endured.
“What did you tell him about me?” he wondered. Did he warn Cas the same way?
Did he tell him about his father’s abuse? Or his drug history? Did he have
other triggers that he wasn’t aware of?
“Nothing.” Dean assured him fervently.
“Oh.” Sam muttered beside himself.  He didn’t mean for it to come out so hurt,
but he was oddly upset.
Ok that’s fine he hadn’t told the kid about him, its ok. He was here now: he
could make his own impression of him.
He wasn’t sure what it meant that Dean hadn’t talked about him. He’d at least
mentioned him, because Cas had not been surprised by his existence as a foster
brother, but he didn’t mention anything about him as a person.
He was overthinking things. It was his forte. It was something he’d done since
he was a kid. He over analyzed every action Dean did towards him searching for
how he really felt. Most of the time it just left him moving in circles.
He could never tell how the man felt about him. This was meant to be a test of
their relationship possibilities and even now he wasn’t sure how he felt about
him.  He wanted to ask, part of him wanted it to be that simple, he knew it
wasn’t, but he wanted Dean to know like he did.
            He had to admit a trial period wasn’t what he’d expected when he
fantasized about a future with Dean either. In his mind it had always been a
cut and dry black and white, I love you or I don’t kind of question.
“What are you thinking?” Dean wondered, he was studying his face. Sam glanced
up he realized he’d grown quiet, falling far past a natural lull in a
conversation.
“Do you really want to know?” he wondered glancing up into Dean’s new leaf
green eyes. He could easily become mesmerized by those eyes, or the smattering
of light freckles across his nose.
If he was an artist he knew that he would be able to draw the lines and planes
of his face by memory. He’d traced them many times with his eyes over the
years. There were slight differences. Maybe a few more lines at the corners of
his eyes when he smiled. Deeper lines in his forehead when he frowned, he was
frowning now, softly, thoughtfully like he was trying to read his mind and
coming up short.
“Would I have asked otherwise?” he commented.
Sam nodded. True. Dean was usually straightforward.
“I thought it would be easier.” He admitted.
Dean cocked his head clearly not understanding what he meant from just that.
“I thought you would either love me or not, I didn’t think you… wouldn’t
know.” 
Dean leaned back in the booth his back pressing against the seatback.
He looked apologetic he licked his lips
“Mind if I have the outside seat?” Cas asked suddenly appearing at his elbow.
“No, its fine.” Sam agreed, scooting in slightly.
Dean had compressed his lips to a firm line, he wasn’t sure if he was waiting
to talk or now he wouldn’t speak at all.
Sam picked up their food switching plates.
Dean was staring back down at his half empty plate. It seemed like he wouldn’t
get a response for the moment.
Sam ate the rest of his sandwich quickly. He wanted to go home. He liked Cas he
truly did, but there was a level of this that was upsetting as it was
entertaining. Oddly it wasn’t sharing Dean that seemed to trouble him but the
uncertainty. Did Dean truly care about him? could he live in a world where he
only where he only won half of Dean’s heart? Cas complicated things, life was
fuzzy and tangled not the stark relief he’d craved, Cas added to the snarl of
emotions in a way he couldn’t predict.  
“Actually I should probably go.” Sam commented Cas scooted from the booth and
let him leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said to Dean before turning to Cas “See you later.”
Cas didn’t take it as a slight. He was more than ready to head back to the
apartment himself. He needed to brainstorm about date ideas. He had to admit he
decided to pick because he liked the idea of shaking things up for Dean, not
that he hadn’t had his foundations rocked lately, but it was fun to see the
freak out expression on his face, to make this confident man feel as out of his
depth as he felt.
Now however he had no idea what he wanted to do.
                                      ***
“What’s your real name?” Dean asked him, broodingly. His hands were on the
steering wheel,
Sam caught an Uber home, he and Dean had each settled their checks and were on
the way back to his place when he spoke.
Honestly it was clear that Dean had something on his mind, he wasn’t good at
disguising his feelings. Cas was practiced at hiding his feelings behind
frivolity or bravado. Dean hid behind his routine, he couldn’t do that with
Cas, since he was so far removed from what had been normal in his life.
 The only sound was the whirling of the tires against the pavement. Cas sat in
the passenger seat, he’d been glancing out the window. Watching the car’s
pass.  He turned to study Dean.
Dean wasn’t looking at him. He was staring ahead, watching traffic and yet he
could feel the tension.
“Castiel” he replied nonplused.
Dean shot him a look his hands still ridged on the steering wheel. He didn’t
believe him.
Cas could feel disbelief radiating off him. He sighed heavily.
“No really?” he insisted his voice was unrelenting,  
“Castiel.” He replied equally adamant, his expression blank.
There were several moments of terse silence. Cas glanced out the window
“I changed it.” he answered finally after several minutes
Not legally of course. That would leave a paper trail and he couldn’t risk
that, but all of it his fake ID’s his police record, was under his new name.
“Collins…not that it matters.” he added when Dean looked like he’d been about
to speak
Dean nodded.
“Why do you wanna know?” He wondered. Feeling uncomfortable.  For the most part
he trusted Dean, at least enough to stay in the same house with him, but his
trust wasn’t easily won.
“Do you have a criminal record?” he continued moving past his question.
Cas crossed his arms irritated. What happened to no labels?
“Yes,” he informed him, blankly he wasn’t ashamed. “Possession, MIC, illegal
camping, a few tickets for trespassing and loitering. Ya know general
vagrancy.”
Dean loosened his vice grip on the steering wheel.
“Do you take drugs?” he wondered
“heh.” He chuckled. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be worrying about that?”
He wondered cynically.
Dean said nothing in reply. Cas found himself a little angry by Dean’s
response. Why did he care about his past?  What did his drug habits matter to
anything? He was getting tested, if he was gonna rob Dean he’d have done it
when the man was passed out drunk or even the first night. He wasn’t a threat,
why did his past matter? Now all of a sudden he was being judgy and hostile.
Part of him wondered if it was because of something Sam said. It was clear they
belonged together that was easy to see, but it was also clear that Sam didn’t
exactly trust him. He was fine with that he didn’t particularly trust him
either. This was all just fun after all, Cas got to figure out how to get his
rocks off in a safe space and Dean got his buffer so he could sort through his
feelings for Sam it was win win, but now he was acting weird.
“I told you when we first met I don’t do needles, but yeah I smoke weed
occasionally, take E or Molly when its offered. I drink… if you’ve got a
problem with it speak now or forever hold your peace, because I’m not changing
for anyone,” he insisted resolutely
 “and if you’re kicking me out I’d like you to drop me off at the bus stop
before it gets too late.” 
Dean deflated
“I’m sorry.” He replied quietly.
“Listen dude if I was a threat to you we’d have already been down that road, so
what gives?”
They were back to silence; the click of Dean’s turn signals the overly loud as
he changed lanes.
“I don’t know anything real about you.” Dean murmured, his voice was so quiet.
There was yearning there too, maybe he wanted to know more about Cas for the
wrong reasons but the right ones were there too.
Cas laughed bitterly shaking his head.  Did he seriously say that? What a tool.
 
“You know the only real thing about me.” he continued baffled, he wanted to
freedom to move about angrily but he was trapped in the car. Did Dean think he
told everyone about his mother? Maybe he did. After all he’d been honest with
him so quickly, quicker than anyone else.
“The rest is just details, minutiae, window dressing, knowing that I was born
in Montana doesn’t change what you know about me. In the three days I’ve known
you I’ve been more honest with you than anyone. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”
Dean frowned feeling a strange pang of regret. He didn’t think he could
apologize again. Sam got in his head a bit, not that he blamed Sam they both
had a point which made things all the more tangled.
He knew Cas trusted him enough to tell him the truth of his past, but that
didn’t mean that when he got home he wouldn’t google Castiel Collins and check
his police record. He was prudent.
Perhaps it was classist but he had more to lose than Cas…He’d been in the same
place as Cas at the mercy of others and he wasn’t ever going back. He was
trying to give Cas respect, trying to give him options so he didn’t feel tied
to his generosity, but at the same time he was an adult, he couldn’t just live
in the moment.  As much as he wanted to just let go and be he couldn’t. Maybe
it was the way he’d lived his life up until now. That sometimes the way he was
perceived mattered more than the way he actually was.  Once they arrived home
Cas quickly hurried up to the apartment. He didn’t even wait for the elevator
he headed straight for the stairs circumventing the lobby entirely. He was
waiting for him by the time Dean made it upstairs.
He had his hands shoved into his jean pockets, he was projecting don’t fuck
with me aura loud and clear.
Dean opened the door feeling guilty. Cas walked behind him. Dean set his mail
down on the tray by the door. They needed to talk this through, he knew that,
but somehow he wasn’t sure he was up to it.
“We still on for tonight he asked?” begrudgingly hopeful. They got off to a bad
start.
“Yeah.” Cas replied it wasn’t just his body language that was closed off his
words were clipped. He was angry with him.
“When do you wanna go out?” he wondered.
“Late.” He replied stiffly.
“Ok…” Dean replied he wasn’t sure if Cas was just mad or just didn’t want to
tell him.
“I’m gonna go lay down, I’ve got a headache.” Cas insisted striding
purposefully towards the spare bedroom.
Dean knew he should say something to him, he didn’t.
He watched as Cas quickly crossed the room shutting the bedroom door with a bit
more force than necessary.
Dean found himself before the bedroom door.
He should ask him to come back out there was too much left unsaid. He should
tell him the truth, that he was equally as scared and confused as Cas was.
After all it was what he’d decided upon except he didn’t know how to justify
his words. He knew he was being a bit unreasonable. Cas’s past was painful. His
past was painful. He could imagine why Cas chose not to talk about it. There
were things he didn’t want to talk about.
He lingered outside his room for longer than he cared to admit before he
decided against it. He went back to his room. He lasted twenty minutes
scrolling through news pages before he gave into the temptation and begun
researching Cas. Cas had been telling the truth, about his criminal record.
 Still there was something nagging at him. Cas never told him his original
name. He tried to research any missing children with the last name Collins from
Montana, but he couldn’t be sure if that was where he was truly born or if he’d
been placed in a foster home in Montana.  
            He had a feeling that Cas was hiding something.
Cas lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He’d repacked his bag, it was laying
in front of the bed on the floor. He could leave now at a moment’s notice. He’d
gotten too comfortable the last few days. His right arm ached. He carefully
rolled up his sleeve, and peeled back the gauze. It was slightly infected. His
cuts were inflamed, he pulled out his cutting bag, and rubbed the alcohol pads
across his reddened skin. It stung. He would have to keep an eye on them, the
deeper ones always had a harder time healing. The ones on his left arm had
healed into bright pink little slashes. This wasn’t the first time he’d said he
wouldn’t cut. He’d been cutting since he was thirteen, it had come up more than
once. So far he’d never been able to stop long term. It almost made him want to
cut more. The urge would build up and up until it was unbearable, and he wound
up with deeper scars because of it.
His bag was already out on his bed; he could do it. Dean might kick him out
afterwards, but then he could just say he did it because of him and the man
would feel guilty. Now it wouldn’t be true. At least not fully sure he wanted
to cut at the moment because Dean was being rather insistent trying to drag up
a past he had no interest in revisiting, but he also really couldn’t blame the
man. He was a stranger living in his house. Details may not make the man, but
they sure helped to define them.
He let a stranger stay in his house and invited him into his bed it was safe to
say that it wasn’t really just about his past. He wanted to know what kind of
person he left into his life, Cas got that, but at the same time, he was tired
of letting his past define him. weren’t his present actions enough?
He sighed. He carefully rewrapped his arm, he was trying to think of where he
should take Dean.
He wanted to take the man so far out of his comfort zone that he would lose it.
He lay back down his mind listless.
He was almost asleep when his phone beeped.
It was a text from maybe the one friend he had.
Kemp Spencer.  He’d met Kemp when he’d first rolled into town. They stayed at
the same LGBT youth shelter. They’d been friends ever since. Kemp was non-
binary. They pretty much rejected all gender conventions preferring neutrality.
The they them pronouns took a bit getting used to when Cas first started using
them now it was a piece of cake.
[ You alive?]
He hesitated before he replied. He didn’t wanna freak them out but also he
didn’t really wanna tell Kemp everything. Dean had asked that it stay between
them.
{Yeah, crashing with a friend for a while}
[I heard Malik kicked your ass]
Cas frowned. The pain was pretty much gone except in his ribs it was mostly his
pride that was still bruised.
[You ok?] Kemp added.
{Yeah… been a weird couple of days}
[wanna talk about it?”]
Cas bit his lip, sliding his lip ring about with his tongue. He wanted to kind
of but Kemp was happily asexual they didn’t really get his weird twisted
relationship with sex. Sure they sympathized, but it was apples and oranges.
Cas could understand that Kemp wasn’t interested in sex and they could
understand that while he was confused about sex he had sexual desires, but
naturally Kemp wasn’t always the best person to go for regarding advice about
sex, still it wasn’t just about sex between him and Dean which was part of the
problem and Kemp had the advantage in polyamorous navigation.  
{Yeah} he replied. {Meet me at that Boba place I’m buying}
                                      ***
Cas sipped his milk tea squishing a honey boba between his teeth. He wasn’t
sure dragging Kemp into this was such a great idea, but part of the problem
with Dean was managing the poly dynamic and Kemp knew how to do that.
Kemp was easy to spot, their fire engine mop of red hair painted a stark
contrast to their black hoodie, their thumbs sticking out from ragged holes cut
into the overly large jacket. Black skinny jeans and high top black converse
completed the look.
Once they crossed the threshold of the shop they pushed the hood back, Kemp
liked eyeliner. Today they favored aqua liner sweeping away in a cat’s eye.
Their gauges were the same aqua color, black snake bite garnished their lips  
“Hey.” They called out with a wave.
He’d only met Kemp’s primary partner once. So Cas didn’t immediately recognize
them as the latinx woman behind Kemp. She wore her multicolored pink, blue and
black hair short combed over to the left with an artful swoop. Both ears held
rows of silver loops today she wore black eyeliner and mascara paired with plum
lipstick, that matched her flared long skirt. Her black turtleneck made her
look more beatnik than punk or goth. When Cas first met Sky, they’d been
dressed neutrally like Kemp. They were genderfluid, identifying with different
pronouns at different times as they shifted through the spectrum.  She smiled
at Cas, she had been dating Kemp for four years, but Cas kind of got the idea
that they didn’t like him much, since they’d only met twice now. Sky had a
secondary partner named Dillan, whom he’d never met, but Kemp only said great
things of.  He supposed it was really more Sky’s advice he needed, but they had
never been super friendly.
Kemp ordered their drinks Cas paid and they all joined him at the table Kemp’s
was either some green fruit or green tea variation.
Sky’s was yellow. Banana maybe? Did they make banana tea? Probably mango or
lemon.
“So you're kind of in the middle huh?” Kemp wondered chewing on their straw
once Cas was done telling his side of the story. He'd hesitated at first but
Dean told Sam about his past, he hadn't missed that bit this morning. It stung,
but he also saw why he did it. Maybe Dean would see why he told his only
friend.  He nodded.
It was basically true. Sure it was way more complicated than that at the same
time but Kemp usually had a way of boiling things down to their base level.
Sky was surprisingly quiet. The one other time they met he just remembered
thinking they were a bit smug.
Kemp was two years older than him, while Sky was his age. Sky was in college,
she lived with her accepting parents, maybe that was part of his dislike more
than anything they actually did.
Kemp continued to worry the straw between their fingers, they’d quit smoking
last month, and so far they’d hated every minute of it.
“I don’t know if I can solve your dating conundrum but I think I can solve your
date problem.”  They finally answered.
Chapter End Notes
     I refer to Sky as she because that was how they were currently. I
     might change pronouns on you at a later time. I have several asexual
     friends and friends under the transgender umbrella but I'm Cisgender
     and Allosexual so if I get something wrong or worse offensive please
     correct me and I'll rewrite. I realized that Cas had no friends and
     didn't want that so I added one they wont play a really large role as
     an OC but I will have them appear again. might have to add ones for
     Sam and Dean too.
***** The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last. *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warning
     emotional triggers, drug use triggers.
     this is a longer chapter, they may start getting longer more often
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dean knocked on the bedroom door “Cas? You in there?” he called out.  No
response. He knocked again this time increasingly louder. “Cas? You awake?” he
pressed his forehead to the closed door. That ought to be a metaphor for his
relationship with Cas, Dean talking to the kid through a closed door. Not that
he was any more emotionally available for the kid, or Sam, or anyone.   
Still three days and the kid had already wormed his way under his skin. He
liked him, which was part of the problem. He was smart, smarter than he let on,
and intuitive, but he was angry, defensive, and mistrustful.
And he got it, Dean knew why the kid was damaged. Hell Dean knew he’d be hard
pressed to find someone who wasn’t a little bit damaged. Life was a bumpy road,
people got hurt along the way.
“I’m sorry.” He called out. Still no response.
He wanted to rip open the bedroom door so that he could see his face when he
talked to him, but he wouldn’t. It was Cas’s sanctuary.  Dean had tried to
ignore it. The little voice in the back of his head that said he should
apologize. He knew maybe he handled it wrong but he had a point goddamn it.
Cas was a virtual stranger that he was… developing feelings for? That made it
sound so serious. He had feelings about a lot of people. His boss was a fucking
prick, and he kissed his ass six ways from Sunday and he had definite feelings
about that.
He was just being purposefully obtuse. He knew what he felt about Cas wasn’t
the same. It was too new, too raw to examine too closely.  It was different
than the way he felt about Sam, that was an entirely other tangled ball of
emotion.
“I just…” what should he say. He just didn’t want to get close to Cas only to
be betrayed again.
He almost wanted to laugh at his own train of thoughts.
Lisa
She didn’t truly betray him, that was too dramatic.
She just wasn’t who he thought she was. Granted he wasn’t who she thought
either.
He’d never been honest in a relationship before, there was always distance.
Even with Sam, the person he was closest too, he put up walls, tried to hide
how he really felt to the point where he wasn’t even sure anymore.
He tried to open up to Lisa. To a degree. He met her family, she met his.  He
knew all her favorite food, she recorded project runway for him when he worked
late when he forgot to set the DVR.
They just didn’t talk about the deep things. Like how her bad history with men,
including Ben’s father, crippled her trust. She constantly checked up on him,
calling at work to make sure he was not having an affair or how her intimacy
issues were completely opposite of his. She needed affirmation she needed him
to say it, and he couldn’t, because as time went by he realized he didn’t mean
it. He didn’t love her, not in the way he should love his wife. He couldn’t
open up the way she needed. Which only served to drive a wedge further between
them, upping her mistrust.
He couldn’t tell her that he’d microwaved their relationship because he was
scared of dying alone, and his feelings for his foster brother confused him
enough that he wanted something simple. Who said that to someone? Everyone was
afraid of dying that was basically true, but he knew he’d die young. He
couldn’t tell her that he wasn’t cheating on her that he never would, but that
he still felt unresolved, because he’d never had sex with men.  He couldn’t
tell her that Sam didn’t always feel like his brother, and he couldn’t start
over with her, they’d come too far.
So he pulled back which only aggravated things until Lisa exploded. He didn’t
really think she meant it when she called him a fucking faggot.
She wasn’t anti LGBT but in the moment she had unleased all her pent up rage
and confusion and blame on one source. Dean must be gay, that was why things
didn’t work between them.
“I’m scared.” Dean finally told him. Releasing his breath in a rush honesty was
hard for him. it felt like a ball of pain and angst was forming in his chest.
“I don’t know where this is going and I’m afraid I’m going to fuck it up before
it even gets started.” He was met with silence.
“Or worse, find out too late that this isn’t going to work when I can’t let it
go.”
Still no response.
“Say something, damn it.” he called out again pounding on the door with his
fists.
“What are you doing?” Cas asked.
Dean swung to see Cas watching him with cocked head. He held a green drink. In
his hand.
Dean straitened, wiping a quick hand over his face.
“You ok?” Cas asked.
Dean felt foolish. He took a subconscious step back from the door.
He tried to speak but couldn’t over the lump in his throat. He cleared his
throat.
“Yeah.” He answered
“I had to guess what, you’d like.” Cas stepped forward pressing the glass into
his numb hands.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Green bubble tea.” Cas replied.
“No why did you get me a tea?” he wondered.
Cas shrugged “Peace offering?”
Dean found himself perplexed. Did Cas hear anything he’d just admitted to.
“Listen I’m sorry.” Cas begun. Worrying his lip ring with his teeth his hand
rubbing the back of his neck.
“I heard you.” He continued. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. Feeling oddly
exposed. Strange that Cas being on the opposite side of the door than he
thought caused him to feel self-conscious.
“I know you told Sam about me.”
“Oh.” Dean mumbled surprised.
  “I was upset. I shouldn’t have been so hostile about you asking me
questions.”
He continued not meeting his eyes.
“But you didn’t have to be so accusatory, I hadn’t told you about my criminal
record because you hadn’t asked.”
Dean nodded “Your right I’m sorry.”
Cas grinned at him.  “See that wasn’t too hard now was it?” 
“You have no idea.”
                                      ***
Cas took a shower. He wasn’t sure what was up with Dean. He’d been acting
strange. Cas stepped under the hot spray of water. He was thinking about
tonight. More specifically when they got home. He didn’t know why he was so
freaked out. He’d gotten fucked all the time. Never really sober but that was
beside the point. He was just getting in his head about it, because it was
supposed to be different. It wouldn’t be. He’d blow Dean, he actually liked
blowjobs and surprisingly he had no negative associations for preforming them,
after a while Dean would get tired of that and want penetrative sex. He’d wanna
bend him over something and go to town. Preferably with the lights off. He
liked the cocoon of darkness.   Cas sighed heavily. He wanted to have sex. Did
it have to be this big special thing? Maybe he didn’t wanna be special. Maybe
getting fucked was just fine with him. Shouldn’t it be enough that he wanted to
have sex with Dean? Did he have to examine why he wanted to?
He lathered the bar of soap in his hands before rubbing his sudsy hands over
his body
Should he let Dean touch him? things were much more likely to go smoothly if he
didn’t. What if Dean wanted to touch him? He knew he had the right to say no,
he’d come that far with his body. sure he let most people who wanted to fuck
him fuck him because he liked fucking craved the odd sense of value that came
from being desired, but he made his partners wear condoms and wouldn’t let them
touch him.
Except he kind of wanted things to be different with Dean as much as he was
afraid of it.
What if he let Dean touch him and he got triggered? Then he wouldn’t be able to
have sex and he would let Dean down. Sure if he was still horny he was sure Sam
would oblige, but he wanted to be able to please him.
He wasn’t really worried about pleasing himself. If it happened, it would be a
miracle. He didn’t think it could happen two nights in a row.  
He shampooed his hair, he didn’t think Dean would mind using his shampoo. He
might need to get it done again, his roots were growing in and so were the
sides.
He thought about playing it by ear, last night had been unscripted, he’d
actually gotten aroused, sex was mostly mechanical for him, and he normally had
plenty of water based lube in his bag, so he never got hurt, and it was
satisfying but nothing like last night.
Maybe he should talk to Dean about his fears. Dean asked him to be honest with
him. He honestly wasn’t sure he could be touched sober. Sam fucking bumping his
leg made him nervous this afternoon, it wasn’t even sexual. Still his mother
didn’t always need to touch him sexually to control him. She constantly touched
him to remind him of her presence and her control over him. a hand on his knee,
pressing herself against him if they sat together. Her hand on the back of his
neck if they walked side by side.
When he had sex the men mostly just grabbed his hips, sometimes they’d bite the
tender junction of his shoulders and neck. He liked a bit of pain, he didn’t
want to read too much into that either. he knew people in the BDSM community
weren’t part of the community because they were fucked up. He was sure some of
them might be fucked up but most people were. The same as his sexual
orientation wasn’t a product of his mother’s abuse neither was that.
His hang ups about being touched he could put that blame on her door.  His
twisted fear of pleasure was also her fault. So was his guilt.
He could always just get high and not let Dean know. It would be a bit
underhanded, but maybe if he could do it once, he could get over this block…
yeah he didn’t really believe it either.
He sighed again. There wasn’t really anything left to clean. He was excited for
the date, but he was also a bit afraid.
                                      ***
 Sam went to a movie. He didn’t pay that much attention to what was on the
screen, it was a foreign film. He’d thought he would have been able to pay
attention to the dialogue, but his inner monologue kept interrupting the
subtitles. It was six or seven. He wondered if Cas and Dean were on their date
yet. Not that it really mattered. He was at the movies so he wouldn’t dwell,
and here he was dwelling. He just needed to focus on his own day.
The problem was his days were mostly empty. He worked, he came home and watched
Netflix, or went out, when he went out he’d usually pick up a guy, but that
didn’t happen as often as it used to. Mostly he just brooded. Thinking over his
life and how he wanted things to be different. Maybe he should give college
another try. it wasn’t that the classes were too hard. He hadn’t dropped for
poor grades. He’d dropped from lack of interest, and direction. He didn’t know
what he wanted to do with his life. He was twenty-four. He’d seen what having a
career purely for momentary gain had done to Dean, he knew he didn’t want that.
Still he wanted a purpose something that gave his life meaning.  He was
listless. He’d been prelaw before he dropped. He wanted to help people he knew
that was true. He just wasn’t sure how.
He had a lot more to sort out in his life than just Dean. He needed direction,
and purpose.
But not tonight, tonight he needed distraction, he could think about Dean and
his feelings for him tomorrow. Tonight he would go home open a bottle of wine
and watch Netflix. Nothing too excessive. He just wanted to relax.
                                      ***
 Cas still hadn’t told him where they were going. He’d told him to dress in
light preferably black layers. So he kept his ratty Skynard T and ratty jeans.
It was actually kind of nice, he topped it with his leather jacket so he wasn’t
cold.
Cas had traded his long sleeved shirt for a black tank with open sides. He
could see the lines of gothic script ‘Where there is sorrow, there is holy
ground’ across his ribs. The shirt sported a white skeletonized angel. He wore
his black trench coat over it.
Dean didn’t want Cas driving his car. it was nothing personal, but after the
kid admitted he didn’t have a license he wasn’t going to let him, jeopardize
them. 
“Right here.” Cas called out pointing towards a street corner. 
Dean turned in and parked on the street.
It was the older side of town, red brick buildings hosting several little
buildings, an adult XXX store next to a tattoo parlor he spotted several and
two liquor stores, but nothing looked like food. It was around ten thirty. Cas
was grinning at him. 
Dean had to admit he was glad that Cas told him not to change. He would have
overdressed.
He fought back the urge to ask if it was safe to park his car here.
“Come one.” He insisted he walked towards the alley way.
Dean had to admit he knew the kid was trying to keep him a bit on edge and he
was succeeding.
He followed him, halfway down the alley was a set of stairs. Cas bounded down
them.
Carefully Dean followed behind him.  He pushed open the red door, and the smell
of sizzling meat and onions overwhelmed him.
The place was small. His livening room was larger than the dining area.
The dining area was filled with tables paired with assorted miss matched
chairs. The floor was blue and while faded tile. Faded because it was old not
dirty. He could see scuff marks from where the chairs rested. There was little
room to navigate, surprisingly Cas grabbed his hand and lead him through the
maze of chairs and tables. To the front of the store. The menu was a large
white square in front of a blue counter. In large red print was the item listed
in Spanish beneath it was smaller black print of the item in English. Out to
the side of each item was a number.
“Pick a table. I got this” Cas assured him with a wink. Most of the patrons
were Latino, which boded well. They didn’t always have very authentic Mexican
food this side of the Mississippi.
He watched as Cas ordered. It was clear that the man on the other side of the
counter recognized him, he wasn’t sure why maybe because he didn’t know it, but
he was surprised that Cas spoke Spanish.
Cas brought the food over. It was two flank steak tacos each on corn tortilla
topped with grilled onions and cilantro. Served with limes.
“Trust me it’s good.”  Cas insisted plopping down in the chair before him.
They were, the marinated meat was juicy and flavorful well paired with the
added bite of the lime and cilantro.
They ate peacefully the restaurant was loud, as full as it was and a jukebox in
the corner played music.
“I wanna say I’m sorry,” Dean tried again. Cas cocked his head slightly. Dean
couldn’t tell if it was because he was confused by his apology or because he
couldn’t hear him.
Cas reached across the table and grabbed his hand.  His pulse skipped a beat as
the gentle touch.
“Don’t worry about it.” Cas insisted. with a smile.
“Let’s just have a nice time.”
    Dean grinned, while this may not be his usual style of dates he was having
a nice time. The food was good the company was good. It was a little loud, but
he couldn’t fault the kid. Deep conversation could wait till they were alone.
Small talk was fine.
Except some of the safest questions where did you grow up? how was work? are
you close to your family?  Were all kind of touchy topics.
“What’s your favorite movie?” Dean wondered.
Cas looked away for a second Dean begun to wonder if he’d asked a bad question
when Cas replied.
“Breakfast at tiffany’s.” he murmured
“My mother was a bit of luddite, we didn’t really watch TV she didn’t want us
playing video games or rotting our brains, but we had this old tape, someone in
the family must have taped it off the TV. Maybe she did. Was one of the few
nice memories I have with my mom and… my family. We’d sit on the sofa and watch
the few old movies my mom owned. Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Gigi, Casablanca, we’d
make popcorn, my mom wouldn’t touch me at all she’d just cry and watch the
movie. As a kid I could identify with Holly. She was smart, but played dumb to
get what she wanted because people expected her to be dumb. She was vivacious
and strong. She didn’t want to be owned by anyone and profoundly emotionally
damaged. Maybe I still identify with her.”   Dean nodded thoughtfully adjusting
his perception of Cas in his mind again. Most millennials were used to tech, he
had noticed that Cas only owned a prepaid flip phone, now he wasn’t sure if it
was out of necessity for money or understanding of tech.
“What about you.” Dean grinned he could go old school with the best of them. “I
love old school horror. The Fly, The Birds, Hitchcock is a master, The
Exorcist, The Shining.”
Cas smiled at his enthusiasm, he wasn’t a big fan of the horror genre himself,
but he imagined he could watch one with Dean.
“When’s your birthday?” Dean wondered.  “August 20th”  
“what’s the best gift you ever got?” he inquired.
He knew it was hard for Cas to talk about his childhood, but he wanted to know
more about him without triggering the bad memories if possible.
“I was fourteen, I was living with these people…” he trailed off slightly
“They were weird, not ‘it puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose
again’ kind of weird, but matching Christmas sweaters mom’s apple pie Stepford
wives kind of weird. The mom made me a cake for my birthday, they threw me a
little party.  It was this rectangular double layer vanilla cake with a fruit
motif in red and black, I got to pick the first piece.”
Dean smiled he could picture Cas proud at picking the first piece of cake
“What is the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?” Cas asked.
Dean laughed as he wiped his hands on the napkin.
“I brought you home.” 
“Really?” he wondered. Then again he wasn’t sure why he was surprised
everything he’d seen of Dean so far told him that he was a man pinned to his
routine.
“Yeah… so what...” Cas cut him off.
“No you don’t get to ask another question, it’s still my turn.”
“How do you figure that?” Dean pondered with a grin.
“I already knew the answer to that one.”
Dean nodded playing along it was funny he hadn’t really had a first date in a
while and he’d never had one with a man. It was pretty much the same so far,
food, conversation, an undercurrent of untapped attraction.
“How did you meet your best friend?” Cas questioned
“Does Sam count?” Dean wondered with an awkward chuckle. He didn’t really have
other friends he had coworkers. People he talked to at the watercooler. A best
friend was someone you told your secrets to. Someone who understood you.
“Is he your best friend?”
Dean paused. “Yeah.”
“Then yep, but you told me you met Sam when he was four was there more to the
story?”
“I didn’t like him when we first met, I was ten years old and suddenly there
was this kid following me around everywhere. Except he couldn’t keep up with
me, he cried, a lot. He was lost, and lonely. we played together. There was a
lot of other kids in the house too, but they kept moving on. A lot of them
picked on Sammy, called him names broke his toys. He was a nice kid though he
never refused to play with anyone. I told them to cut it out. It wasn’t until
his dad came and got him that we really became friends for me at least. I was
thirteen and they brought Sammy back, he was covered in bruises. I just
remember being so mad that somebody hurt him and I wasn’t there to stop them,
not sure what I would have been able to do but I was supposed to protect him.”
Cas nodded that explained a lot really there was this sense of protectiveness
that dominated Sam and Dean’s relationship, and in a weird way he saw it in the
way Dean treated him.
“You done?” Cas asked pointing to the empty plate.
Dean nodded. “Yeah.”
“Let’s go.”    
                                      ***
He could hear the pounding of the base from outside the building it was a muted
thrum in the air. Outside it was cold, but he knew that wouldn’t last once he
got inside. The club was basically one large square industrial looking
building. Actually Dean had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a legal club,
the bouncer at the door wasn’t checking Id’s but more controlling the flow of
traffic. The bare concrete surrounding the building sported bits of grass
growing through cracks. The walls of the building were painted black. There
were both large groups of men and women gathered outside of the structure
waiting in line.   
            “You’re taking me to a rave?” Dean asked laughing slightly
“Na it’s not really a rave, just a party.”
Several woman wearing bra’s or bikini tops paired with tulle pettiskirts in
equally colorful ranges.  Walked past them joining their friends in line. Many
of the people wore glow bracelets and necklaces.
Dean gave Cas a speculative look.
“Ok maybe it is raveish.”
Dean shook his head. He was grinning. Cas was mesmerized by it. He leaned in
close to whisper in his ear his breath ghosted over his neck but he wasn’t
touching him.
“I know you were trying to take me out of my element but you missed one thing.”
Cas hooked his arms around his leaning into him flirtatiously.
“Yeah what’s that?” Cas asked breathlessly.
“I love dancing.” He teased with a wink and his heart melted.
“Alright old man,” Cas taunted right back. “I hope you can keep up.”
Challenge accepted.
The bouncer didn’t look twice at Cas just ushered him on in.
The lights in the club were off, the only light came from the rotating multi
colored strobe spotlights that danced on the ceiling and several black lights
overhead.
“Still ok?” Cas ask he was smirking. His teeth lit up under the black light.
“Peachy.” Dean tossed back. Maybe this wasn’t quite up his alley. The music
wasn’t so much as music but more a collection of electronic sounds and
alternating intervals and a heavy use of bass.  The bass grew louder as they
walker further inside. Just as he expected he was glad he’d left his jacket in
the car. The crush of bodies was impressive. People undulated to the beat,
swaying with the music.
“I’m gonna get us a drink.” Cas shouted out over the music. Dean nodded.
“Something strong.” He yelled back. He had a while still till they would go
home plenty of time to sober up and see where tonight lead.  Dean had no
expectations for tonight. He wanted to have sex with Cas, that was becoming
more and more clear to him. not just have sex with a man, but Cas specifically.
There was a guy in the corner handing out glow bracelets and water bottles to
anyone who approached.
He could do this.
He walked over and snagged a few for himself and Cas.  He placed the green glow
necklaces around his neck, he saved Cas purple bracelets and a blue necklace.
He checked the water bottle they were still factory sealed. He examined the cap
for needle marks with the light from his flashlight still clean.
The songs melded into each other the beat remaining mostly the same the tempo
and tone changing slightly.
Doom doom doom doom, the beat pounded out in a steady rhythm. Cas loved it, the
beat, the sweat, the music. The pounding like some giant heartbeat.  At first
he went to clubs like this just for work then he learned to love the frenzy of
it.
Kemp and Sky were here somewhere, they told him about the party tonight. Kemp
was equally a fan of dancing as he was.
He pushed his way through the crowd looking for Kemp. After a few minutes of
searching he was able to spot them by the front.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dean, enough to go on the date alone it was just
nice to have someone to check in with.
He tapped Kemp on the shoulder. They had swapped their aqua eye liner for
white, making their eyes glow under the black light. 
“Where’s Sky?” Cas wondered.
“Dill’s then here late.” Kemp called out.
“How’s the date?” Kemp asked a moment later mildly interested. Sipping on their
drink swaying to the music.
“Good.” He admitted. It was fun. Expect now he was feeling the pressure, it was
getting closer and closer to the end of the night. He knew Dean didn’t really
expect anything but at the same time, he was excited and terrified for tonight.
He knew not everyone put out after a date, but he also knew he wanted to try
having sex with Dean. Tonight had been a blast so far but he was nervous that
he would fuck it all up by getting triggered. He wanted to fuck with Dean, but
the more he wanted it the happen the harder it got sometimes. 
“Want one?” Kemp asked dangling a small baggy filled with white pills.  Kemp
continued dancing as the bag flapped before them.
Yeah he did.
Molly would make things a bit easier with Dean.  It had been a long time, if
ever really since he’d had sex sober. He had to admit that was part of his fear
with Dean. Last night was a fluke, that first night just touching his hair had
triggered him. He had no idea what might actually set him off, and he couldn’t
exactly ask his partners to never touch him right?
Still he didn’t want to break the rules,
“Please tell me you didn’t buy those from Malik?” Cas muttered ruefully
“Fine I won’t tell you.”
“Did you at least test them?”
“Yep two parts caffeine and one part MDMA.” They replied, they were bouncing
side to side they were practically vibrating as they swayed to the beat.
“You already took one didn’t you.”  They nodded pleasantly.
“How long ago?” he wondered
“bout fifteen minutes.” Kemp replied
Cas sighed “Yeah give me one.”
It would wear off in four hours or so if he knew Malki’s product.  He usually
took two, on an empty stomach.
“I’ma head out ok.” Cas told them they nodded. “Let me know how it goes.”’ They
agreed.
he chased the pill with a bit of his drink, he’d ordered two doubles.
He’d mostly finished his drink by the time he’d made it to the perimeter of the
dance floor where Dean waited.  He’d watched the ‘bartender’ make it himself
and just to be sure he’d checked it with his test strips, both drinks were
good.
He told Dean as much as he handed over the cup.
“Just whiskey.” He shouted over the music.
Dean nodded mouthing cheers over the beat of the music before tossing back the
drink like nothing.
Cas finished his off tossing the cup in the trash.
“Here.” Dean called out handing him the glowing ornaments.
He was getting a slight buzz. The whirl of the lights was calling to him. The
pill wasn’t kicking in yet, but he was feeling a bit guilty.
“I took some Molly.” He confessed to Dean trying to be honest. He never really
said he couldn’t get high, he just said they had to have sex sober so he came
clean.
Dean didn’t seem as surprised as he feared.
“I saw you with your friend.” He admitted.
“Did you want one?” Cas asked
Dean shook his head, hesitantly. “If we both take some we might break rules.”
Cas nodded. Glad that he took the pill and glad that he told Dean. 
“Let’s dance.” He called to Dean. Part of what made him pick dancing was to get
Dean out of his element but also, to be touched. Something about dancing it
didn’t normally trigger him especially when he was rolling.
He grasped Dean’s hand and pulled him towards their fellow dancers.
Many in the crowd were jumping with the beat whirling their arms about in a
pulsing tumult.
He gave into the abandon.
Cas’s movements where a flurry of chaotic grace. A reckless wildness as he
tossed his head about shaking his body, as if the electricity of the music
possessed him. 
Dean made an effort to join him. He knew how to move to the beat where to place
his hips, his feet and his arms, but the music didn’t flow through him like it
did for Cas. Watching Cas dance it was like sex on wheels.
Dean was staring at him. Cas couldn’t help but lick his lips salaciously, with
a wink towards the man. He knew he was a good dancer, he’d hand many people
tell him a such, but they all could suck it because he didn’t dance for them.
Right now he was dancing for Dean. 
The music picked up tempo Cas rushed to action his limbs moving about him as he
continued to rock forward onto the balls of his feet practically jumping with
the music.
he pulled Dean close to him holding his hand as he continued to bounce with the
beat.
Dean was having fun, his heart was pounding, maybe it was the alcohol or maybe
it was Cas, but he wasn’t feeling thirty years old right now.
                                      ***
An hour later he was feeling thirty however. Not to say he wasn’t enjoying
himself. He was having fun but part of it was watching Cas move to the music.
If the kid only had one natural talent it was dancing. He’d stripped his shirt
off, and left it to dangle from his back pocket. Sweat made his torso shimmer
in multicolored lights. He was so pale, and smooth. Dean kept finding himself
drawing to the planes of his chest. A white bandage glowed in the light.  Dean
made sure that he occasionally took swigs off the water bottle he’d grabbed for
him.  He wasn’t upset that Cas took the pill, and he was even more thrilled
that he told him.
He figured they wouldn’t have sex tonight. After last night he wanted to be
absolutely sure that he was fine with it, he just wanted Cas to have fun.  He
just wished he had better control over his body. Cas was super affectionate
touching him, grinding up against him. kissing him, just hugging him. His body
wanted him, even though his brain was telling him. He’d be taking advantage of
him. He was aroused.
The pill kicked in after about half an hour, leaving him left with full body
orgasmic bliss as serotonin flooded his brain. It was impossible for him to
remain still. The music controlled his mind, body and soul. Wave after wave
crashed over him. He could tell Dean was getting a bit tired, but Cas wasn’t
sure if it was the molly itself or the caffeine but he felt wired. He kept
touching Dean.
Wrapping his arms around his neck and swaying with him, as Dean loosely held
him about the waist.
Kissing his cheek, the scratch of his stubble against his mouth was heady.
 Nipping at his chin, his neck.
Dean humored him.
Letting him run his hands all over his body.
“I like touching you.” He called out. Not ashamed. 
“I wish you’d let me suck you off.”
Surprise and lust flashed across the other man’s face but his resolve was
fairly strong
“Not till you sober up.” He murmured, but his voice was thick with lust.
“You know I’ve never had a blowjob” Cas informed him pressing his entire body
against Dean’s so he could yell in his ear.
Dean flinched slightly at his volume.
“Not really, anyway. not one I wanted.” normally the thought of blowjobs sent
him scurrying to the corner. It was the only way his … abuser had been able to
get him to cum, it wasn’t enough for them that they got off, her twisted little
mind wanted that control over him as well.
“I bet its nice.” He muttered
 “I’ve always been a fan.” Dean murmured in his ear it sent little shivers
across his entire body.
Being on E was the only time he really ever got turned on, and he was plenty
turned on now. 
“What else do you like?” Cas wondered, he could do dirty talk normally. That
was a practiced skill, but they were just words. Do you want a suck or a fuck?
Do you wanna fuck me hard and fast? How do you wanna fuck me? it was playacting
he was playing a part, preforming a scene. The sex was mechanical, now he
wanted to be there. He wanted to be in the moment.
 He wanted that moment with Dean.
“Can’t tell you.” Dean told him. they were practically hugging on the dance
floor.
Cas liked the feeling of his arms on his bare skin, tiny pinpricks crawled
across his nerves.
“Aw you said we couldn’t fuck; didn’t say you couldn’t tell me how you wanted
to fuck me.”
He felt Dean’s breath hitch in his chest.
And suddenly Cas wanted to know, what Dean liked.
“What do you like?” Cas wondered he was rocking side to side.
“I’ve never had sex with a man, but with woman I liked making them feel good. I
figure I have fun either way, but having someone scream for you is
intoxicating. I like the closeness of it. Even if it’s just for the night you
get to be close to someone.”
Cas had never really seen sex like that. Physically it was hard for someone to
be closer to him while inside of him, but emotionally he was almost more
distant during sex.  He wanted to be open to Dean, to have Dean be able to
pleasure him. to be able to experience pleasure without needed to be chemically
augmented.
“Tell me what you like.” Dean replied.
What did he like? He liked making other people happy. He liked service on his
terms, not hers.
“I like this.” He admitted.  Beyond that it he wasn’t sure it hadn’t really
mattered what he liked.
“Normally I don’t let people touch me hardly at all,” he admitted Dean probably
gathered as much by his no touching rule but he wasn’t sure if he knew the
extant of it.
Unaided by molly, this confession would have left him feeling embarrassed and
exposed, he shrugged it off.
“I had a boyfriend once who tried to give me a handjob but I couldn’t stay
hard, kept spacing out, and crying. He got mad, stopped calling after that.”
There was sympathy on Dean’s face.
He felt a bead of sweat run down his back.  He leaned forward pressing his ear
to Dean’s chest he could hear his heartbeat, and he couldn’t see his face.
“Last night was the first time I had a consensual orgasm with someone.”
He blabbed to him. Dean wasn’t sure how he should feel, but he wasn’t feeling
guilty anymore more just stupid. He wished he’d been sober enough that he could
have remembered it better, but he had every intention of being there for the
next one.
“I’m gonna get some more water, for you.” Dean said after a moment.
That was the moment his night went to hell in a handbasket.
                                      ***
The thing with E is it’s not a magic good time in a pill. It is an amplifier,
if you’re having a good time you’re have the best fucking time in your life. 
If you’re freaked out or feeling paranoid, it will be twenty times worse.
If your drug dealing ex-boss grabs you and drags you off the dance floor you
lose your shit.
“Let me go.” Cas demanded near panic as Malik drug him away from the crowds of
people. his hand painfully firm on the back of his neck. The sensation exactly
the same. Force, control powerless. The further he got from the crowd the more
helpless he felt. He felt small and vulnerable all over again.
Malik shoved him against the wall. The corrugated metal dug into his back
feeling overly cold.
“What the fuck are you doing here Cas?” he demanded. He had him cornered his
body blocking his view of the rest of the dance floor. His field of vision
narrowed until it was just him. he was receding, his panic drawing him into
himself. 
Under normal circumstances Cas would have probably replied with a snappy
rejoinder about it being a free county and he could party where ever he wanted,
but his super senses that were just moments ago giving him so much pleasure
were going haywire.
“I… don’t… I don’t” he cried out shaking his head. He fell down sliding slowly
down the wall. 
He curled up protectively his hands curled about his face.
He felt his eyes tear up, he was afraid of what Malik might do to him. The fear
became the same as pleasure was, it grew and became its own substance that
permeated his being. 
“I ought to kick your ass.” Malik commented. “poaching my business, then having
the audacity to keep coming back to my side of town.”
Cas was having difficulty following Malki’s train of thought on why he needed
his ass kicked because he could barely hear him over his rapidly beating heart.
Dean was looking for Cas. He couldn’t immediately see him, but he remained
calm, he scanned the crowed, unfortunately in here his look wasn’t exactly as
standoutish as it was other places.
Dean tried to remain calm, he’d probably just wondered off. He was rolling
hard.
Cas knew he was going to die. He was sure of it Malik was going to kill him
right then and there.
He was going to beat his brains in, but it wasn’t really Malik he was afraid
of, he was just afraid.
He remembered once as a kid he’d hid in the closet when his mother came for him
that night. He could see here through the slats. She’d opened the door and
pulled back the covers and he wasn’t there and it made her angry. She’d glanced
around the room until she went towards the closet, he grabbed the handle and
tried to keep it shut he’d been eleven, but he still wasn’t as strong as her.
That was the only time she physically beat him. she told people at school he
fell off his bike. She’d grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his
head into the wall repeatedly until he cried out in pain. 
His rational brain shut off, all argument like why would he kill you in a
crowed area? Or things like Malik was a drug dealer not a murder.
His brain just gave into panic.
Dean spotted Cas leaning against the wall his hands where held defensively over
his face. He recognized the man before him as the guy from the alley. He
reacted, he grabbed his shoulder spinning him around so that his fist slammed
into the other man’s face.
He reeled back in pain blood pouring down his face, stumbling into the wall
besides Cas.
Cas was sobbing uncontrollably rocking back and forth.
“What the fuck did you do to him?’ Dean growled.
“Nothing, it’s the E” the man insisted trying to defend himself.
“Bullshit, what did you do?” Dean demanded.
“Did you touch him?”
“I…I…” the man stumbled
“I grabbed him by the back of his neck.” He insisted.
“Get the fuck out of here.” Dean ordered.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” The man growled.
“Go.” Dean growled.  He didn’t like fighting, but he wasn’t a little kid
anymore he could fight.
“You’re gonna regret this.” He threatened, but he slinked away blood dripping
down his face.
“I’m going to pick you up.” Dean told Cas. Not wanting to make things worse by
touching him without his permission, but it was clear Cas didn’t hear him or if
he did he was too far gone into his head to understand.
He was murmuring no over and over again. Tears sliding down his cheek.
Dean carried him to his car, it took him a little Cas was thin but he was still
almost six feet tall.
He set him gently in the backseat.  He was angry, he felt so stupid, he should
have known better than to leave him alone when he was rolling.
This happened because of him, the same as if he’d been the one to trigger him.
The anger was building up inside him.  He wanted to break something he wanted
to go back in and pound that mother fucker’s face in.
“Goddamn it!” he shouted kicking back tire. He screamed out inarticulately
punching the driver side door, rapidly in a quick succession of jabs. It hurt,
as he pulled back slamming it again and again.
“Son of a bitch.” He shouted pulling back stepping away from the car.
He’d made a solid dent in it.
he took a deep breath, before he carefully glanced in the car. Cas was the
same. He wanted to get him home and safe.  
                                      ***
Cas came back to himself slowly. He was warm, when before he’d been cold.
Technically he’d been awake the entire time. It was hard to fall asleep on E,
but he’d gone to his happy place in his head. He remembered some of the ride
home, and walking up the stairs. He was alone in bed; the lights were off. He
was shirtless still wearing his jeans.
  Someone was singing. It was soft subdued, mostly humming. Hey Jude.
“Dean?” he asked his voice came out as a dry croak.
He heard the creak of the desk chair.
“You ok?” he asked he sounded wrecked, there was something vulnerable in his
voice, it was full of worry.
Dean came into view he was wearing black sleep pants, but he was shirtless.
Cas sat up. He had a head ache. He hadn’t hydrated enough. He felt drained.
“What time is it?”  he asked. Dean stepped forward. “Late.” Dean whispered he
sounded tired.
“What happened?” Cas asked. Dean sat on the corner of the bed.
“Malik triggered you.”
He nodded he remembered being afraid, it seemed weird now, but in the moment it
had seemed so real.
“I’m sorry.” Dean said penitently 
Cas wished that it wasn’t so dark, he wanted to see his face.
“Why are you sorry?” he wondered.
“I shouldn’t have left you.” He continued firmly he sounded angry.
“That was stupid, I’m sorry.”
Cas reached for him.
Dean hissed, jerking his hand back.
“Are you ok?” he asked concerned.
“I punched the car.” Dean admitted ruefully clenching and unfurling his
fingers, examining the damage.
His knuckles were swollen and abraded. The first three were scabbed over.
“Why?” Cas wondered. Dean turned his face away from him.
“I couldn’t help you.”  The undercurrent of anger thrummed beneath his words.
“Come here.” Cas asked Dean kept looking away.
“Please.” His voice quavered he wasn’t scared anymore not really but he felt
wiped out, and it was then he realized that he’d kept Dean from his own bed.
“Hold me” he beseeched.  He didn’t want to be alone and somehow he thought Dean
felt the same.
Dean nodded crawling into bed. Cas rolled on his right side. Allowing Dean to
wrap his body around him.
He was tense as first waiting to see if his touch would trigger him, but maybe
he was too exhausted to be triggered any further.
The solid feel of his body behind him was oddly comforting it was nothing like
her’s
They were skin to skin, the warmth of his body somehow felt better now even
after the Molly wore off.
The darkness made it seem like it was just the two of them in all of the world.
The confession was laying heavy on his chest for several moments before he
found the words.
“I’m afraid of being touched.” Dean moved to pull away but Cas clung to him.
Dean stilled, he didn’t speak, he let Cas process his feelings before he spoke.
“She tainted every corner of my life. Every level of intimacy I possess.”
Their breathing was aligned, his throat felt thick with emotion, but he pressed
forward.
“I don’t know if I am even capable of letting someone in.” he waited wondered
what Dean would say.
“I’m afraid, of my own emotions.” Dean murmured his words still quiet even so
close to his ear.
“I’m scared of how I feel for Sam…” Cas nodded. “For you…” he stiffened. Dean
had feelings about him?
“I don’t know how to open up, so I push it down, pretend my feelings aren’t
real, that they will go away.”
Cas knew his breathing had accelerated Dean had feelings for him.
“I don’t know how to change.” Cas admitted. Dean chucked and it rumbled through
his entire body.
“Neither do I”
“but…” Cas ventured licking his lips nervously.
“I want to try.” 
“So do I.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     most of the locations in this i make up...
     I would love feedback
***** It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and
still to love it. And even more courage to see it in the one you love *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger Warning sexual situations
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was morning. Light permeated the bedroom, filling all corners of the room.
Dean lay on his back; he was staring at the white popcorn bumps on the ceiling.
His ceiling was still the same, as it was. It hadn’t changed in the last few
days. Everything else in his life had. Cas was still asleep. He could tell, by
the evenness of his breathing. He was curled up on his side his back towards
him. They’d fallen asleep together. He remembered listening to Cas’s breathing
even out as he went from being tense in his arms to slowly relaxing. Dean was
afraid to move, he was afraid that if he moved he would wake Cas up and spoil
the moment.  He was sore. Last night was more physical activity than he was
used to. He wasn’t out of shape but it had been a while since he was able to
get to the gym. With dancing and carrying Cas he was a bit worn.
He’d been honest last night…with Cas… in the dark.
He had to admit, this wasn’t exactly how he wanted to get Cas in his bed, still
it was the best night’s sleep he’d had in a very long time.
Cas woke gradually. He became aware of where he was, Dean’s bed. His jeans were
stiff; he was uncomfortable but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to become
fully conscious because then it would end. Last night was… new. He’d gotten
high for most of his adult life because fuck it was something to do. He’d had
the highs and he had plenty of lows, but last night he wasn’t alone.
He didn’t have words for how he was feeling. He floundered. He felt raw,
exposed and brand new at the same time. He wanted to let Dean in, he’d said as
such last night, but he didn’t want to wait.
Dean carefully tried to extricate his hand from beneath him, he moved carefully
in painfully slow increments.
“I’m awake.”
Dean froze he wasn’t sure what Cas’s confession meant for him. Should he leave,
give the man time to compose himself? Last night was revealing for both of
them.
Dean moved to leave the bed.
“About what we said last night?” Cas asked him.
Dean stiffened. Cas sat up the sheets falling about his waist.
He looked stunning with the morning light streaming around him. Dean had to
admit he looked right in his bed.
Dean turned towards him. “I…” he was pleading with his eyes. He wasn’t ready to
talk feelings in the revealing light of day. His emotions were too tightly
balled up in his chest.
“I’m ready to try.”
Cas watched as Dean’s eyes widened as he caught his meaning.
Cas knew sex wasn’t the be all end all of relationships, but for him. It had
always been the start of them, and admittedly the end as well.
He’d never really had sex because he wanted to. Up until this very moment he
wasn’t even sure if he understood the concept.
He wanted Dean. Wanted to touch him, taste him, wanted to connect with him.
He’d felt so lost and adrift last night and Dean had been his solid ground.
He was ready to try sex Dean’s way, he wanted to see if he could have sex and
be in the moment, be open with another person with his body and spirt even if
for just a second. He didn’t want mechanical fucking, he wanted something more,
but he didn’t know how to get it. So he would settle for a good fuck either
way.
“Are you sure?” Dean asked.
He was paused, on the edge of the bed seemingly torn by indecision.
Cas took a deep breath, he wanted to say I can’t guarantee anything, but he
kept his mouth shut, he didn’t need to say it for Dean and he didn’t want to
jinx it.
“Yes.” 
“How do you want to start?” he asked.
Cas blinked. “What do you wanna do?” he asked. Dean shook his head. “We do this
at your pace if we do it at all.”
 
Cas just wanted things to be easy, he didn’t want to be this fucked up. He
wanted what everyone else seemed to have. Why couldn’t he have that? What rule
said he had to be miserable? He could just fuck right? If that was what he
wanted. He rose up so that he was leaning forward on his knees so that he was
eye level to Dean who was half out of the bed. He wrapped his arms around the
back of Dean’s neck.
“Fuck me.” he pleaded.
He watched Dean’s eyes widen again, he licked his lips. For a moment Cas feared
he might say no.  His heart fluttered please just give him this. Let it be
easy. He wanted Dean, but he didn’t want complicated. His entire life had been
complicated. He just wanted something easy.
Dean could see the desperation on Cas’s face, and he didn’t know what the right
thing was. It was too soon. He knew that, he could tell by the anguish on his
face, but he also wasn’t sure if he would forgive him if he denied him.
“How?” he whispered.
Cas pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and hurried, he could feel the
hitch in Dean’s breath. He pressed his body against Dean’s. Dean knelt on the
bed one knee on the bed on foot on the floor.
“Hard…” he panted “Fast…”
He wanted to make him lose control. He wanted to get fucked, hard and fast, it
was the only way he ever felt anything. He’d be pressed against the wall
because otherwise he’d fall. He’d hold onto the bed otherwise he’d be blown
away in the storm. It was a race. Get as much pleasure before he disconnected,
he cupped Dean through his sleep pants. The man hissed.  He gently kneaded his
balls through the silk material.  Cas twined his tongue with Dean’s exploring
the taste of his mouth.
Dean pulled his mouth away from his.
“Slow down.”   He gasped.  “We got lots of time.” He insisted.
Dean wasn’t sure of a lot of things in the moment. Honestly he had no idea what
he was doing. He wanted to make things good for Cas, but he didn’t know how to
have gay sex, plus he couldn’t touch him. He wasn’t sure how to give someone
pleasure without touch. He wasn’t even sure if he should be doing this. Cas
seemed gripped with something some deep dark need to prove something to him,
himself maybe, but it wasn’t lust that held him.
Cas didn’t listen, he didn’t want to wait. He was tired of waiting. He would
make it work. He was tired of losing himself during sex. He just needed to hang
on till Dean came.
He could feel Dean grow hard in his hand. He encircled his shaft fisting his
cock in his hand through the silk, Dean groaned deep in his chest.
Foreplay was usually part of his problem. He could touch others, most of the
time, but they wanted to touch him too, so he didn’t really see the point of
it. Most of the time he rushed past it. That was what he was trying to do if
only Dean would let him.
He kept pulling back slightly forcing Cas to kiss him at his pace, slower more
leisurely.
he felt a tingle of awareness. He was slightly turned on, even better.
“Condoms?” Cas asked, his voice sounded a little breathy. Dean hesitated before
indicating the nightstand.
Cas crawled across the bed reaching into the night stand. He found lube and
condoms just as he expected.
He handed Dean the condom, he knew how to put one on his partner, but he had
other plans in mind the lube would make his hands too slippery and he knew
better than to open condoms with his teeth.
He jerked Dean’s sleep pants down below his hips. He’d known that he’d been
bare beneath the sleep pants, but seeing his bare cock was different than
feeling it.
Cas knew he should be taking his time, that he should be focusing on Dean’s
body, on the fact that it was Dean who would be inside of him rather than just
some random man, but he was on autopilot even though he wasn’t aware of it.
Cas stood quickly undoing the fly and zipper of his jeans. He hadn’t worn
underwear, on the off chance this would happen, he didn’t want to have to slow
down…  he wasn’t hard, but that was fine.
Cas tipped the container of lube into his palm, the slippery substance coating
his hand.
He spun facing the bed before leaning over pressing his chest against the
mattress, leaving his ass accessible and on display he reached between his legs
ignoring the awkward angle so that he could swipe lube across his puckered
hole.
 “How do you want me to?”  Dean wondered softly, he sounded lost. Cas had
almost forgotten that this would be Dean’s first time with a man, he was
growing frustrated, why did he have to decide? he bit the inside of his cheek
so he didn’t just yell back just fucking do it! Just get it over with.  He
paused on his own train of thought. He could feel Dean behind him. Latent heat
of his body, so close to his own. He was exposed, but he was used to that, he’d
never felt vulnerable like this before. Not since with his abuser.
He didn’t want to just get it over with and yet here he was back to this, a
willing hole. Something to be used, not loved. He always came back here,
because he didn’t know any other way. Dejectedly he laid his head down on the
mattress.
Dean watched as Cas pressed himself into the mattress almost as if he wanted to
disappear into it.
Dean was torn he wanted him physically, Cas was skilled at that, perhaps it was
another defense mechanism, but he could easily manipulate his body. Still this
felt wrong. He couldn’t go through with this. There was something going through
Cas that he wasn’t sharing with him. Some inner conflict.
Cas screwed his eyes shut, he was not going to cry, not in front of Dean, but
he could feel the emotions welling up inside of him, choking him.  He couldn’t
go through with this. He couldn’t let Dean fuck him like he was just any other
trick, this was supposed to be different.
“I can’t do this.” He whispered into the bed, clenching his fists.
“What?” Dean asked having not heard him.
“God damn it!”  Cas cried out pounding his fist into his bed as a few tears
slipped past his defenses.
He couldn’t label the swirl of emotions going through him, revulsion, grief,
sadness disappointment, shame it all went by too quickly for him to name.
He felt Dean take a few steps back.
“I can’t do this!” He insisted louder his voice breaking the confession feeling
ripped from him. He stood and turned quickly and walked to his room he didn’t
stop to collect his clothes or glance at Dean.
He slammed the guest bedroom door behind him, turning to brace his back against
it he slid down the varnished wood.
He pulled his knees up to his chest wrapping his arms about him. He was cold,
naked, and his asshole was wet with lube but it didn’t matter. He started
crying. He wasn’t even sure he knew why he was crying. He let go.
Sobbing his body quivering with it. He found himself rocking back and forth,
tears streaming down his face burring his eyes. The ache building in his chest
pushing itself out of his body as large hiccupping painful sobs.  It hurt,
every sob felt like it was torn from this painful place inside him.  like
shards of glass they tore up his insides on their quest to the surface.
“Cas?” Dean called out to him.
Cas wanted to cover his ears so he could pretend he wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry if you felt pressured.” He called out he sounded genuinely
distraught, even though his voice was muffled by the door.
Cas tried to reign in his tears, but he couldn’t fight them. he’d spent too
many years fighting them, he couldn’t push them down any longer.
“It wasn’t you.” Cas admitted between sobs.
“I just wanted to so bad,” he moaned. He should have known wanting to wouldn’t
make a difference, he still didn’t know how to have sex.
Silence met him through the door.
“I know,” Dean murmured he had to be very close to the door for him to be able
to hear him.
“, But we can wait till you’re ready.” Cas wanted to laugh, easy words much
harder in practice.
His body felt drained, he was so weary with all of this.
“What if I’m never ready?” he asked.
“What if it is always like this?”
“It won’t be.” Dean assured.
Cas wasn’t sure he believed him.
“How do you know?” he asked. What did Dean see in him that gave him hope, when
he could find any?
“You said no.” Dean crooned “Have you ever said no before?”
Cas thought about it. Once, with Cooper who raped him, but Dean wouldn’t do
that.
This was the first time in a long time, and with Cooper he’d been triggered.
He’d never stopped before without being triggered.
“Wounds can heal, even deep ones.”
Dean lay his back against the door. They were back to this. Talking through a
door. He’d bungled this whole thing, because he didn’t know how to express his
emotions. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to ask. It was
the blind leading the blind, he didn’t know how to open up how could he expect
Cas to.
“I’m trying this aren’t I?” he called out. Cas didn’t respond.
“Dating men.” He added trying to clarify.
“I never thought I’d be capable of it.” he admitted maybe for the first time.
It wasn’t ever that he wasn’t interested not really. He knew he was attracted
to men, he just never imagined a world where he would be able to act on it.
“My foster father used to beat me.” he said aloud to the room not even sure Cas
was listening.
“I said it before, but I never really dealt with it. not for years. I pretended
it didn’t matter because I wasn’t gay, and I’m still not, but I am attracted to
men. So it does matter.”
Dean closed his eyes. pressing his forehead to the door.
“ I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted
Cas cocked his head to the side intrigued by his honesty  
“I’m not used to that.”
Cas knew it was true. Dean was a man in control of his life. Except it seemed
ultimately he was less in control than he thought.
“So what do we do?” Cas asked dejected pressing the shell of his ear against
the cool wood.
“Try again… when you’re ready.”
“And if it happens again? Or I get triggered?” Cas wondered.
“We try again, as long as you want to. We can try and keep trying.” 
“Why are you doing this?” Cas wondered. Dean had Sam he didn’t have to stick
with him, he could be happy.
“Doing what?”
“Putting up with me.” he asked over a hiccupping sob.
“I’m not worth it.” he added.
“Open the door.” Dean insisted.
Cas hesitated
“Cas open the door.” Dean said again firmly.
Cas scooted over slightly so that he could pull the door open he was still
sitting naked in front of the door feeling exposed.
Dean wore only the sleep pants; he too was sitting before the door.
Cas knew he looked terrible, from last night and this morning he was sure any
eye liner he had was smeared over his face. his eyes and face would be red from
crying.
Dean was looking at him. making him feel even more exposed he ducked his head
hiding his face.
“I don’t know you very well yet.” Dean admitted Cas snuck a glace up at him. He
seemed genuine
“I plan to learn more about you, but there is one thing I already know about
you.”
“What’s that?” Cas asked prepared for the worst. That he was a tease? That he
was fucked up?
“You are worth it.”  he murmured.
Cas moved to speak but Dean waved him off.
“You are.”  
“but you have Sam, why bother with me?” he wondered.
Dean glanced away. Cas could see the confusion cross his face.
“I still don’t know how I feel about Sam, but even if I did that doesn’t
subtract from your worth. Me and Sam and you and me this is different.” Cas
looked away Dean’s hand shot out to bridge the gap but paused. Cas turned back
towards him. He dropped his hand.
“Different doesn’t mean bad.” He swore  
“What like separate but equal?” Cas quipped.
“That historically hasn’t worked.”
Dean scowled
“No, just different, because you aren’t the same as Sam. You are your own
person, and I have to treat you like it. Our relationship won’t be a mirror of
mine and Sam’s and I wouldn’t want it to be. I don’t know what we are doing
here or how long it is going to last but it’s good,” he maintained emphasizing
the last word
“and I want it to stay that way.”
Cas worried his lip ring with his teeth.  How had this happened to him? a few
days ago he’d been more worried about where he was gonna sleep and how he was
gonna pay for food. Now here he was living with this man, who acted like he
mattered. Three four days ago if he’d been found dead in a ditch no one would
have mourned him. Maybe Kemp, but they were cut from the same cloth. Kemp would
morn him but ultimately they would move on, he’d just be another dead street
kid. Now he didn’t know.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
Dean frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Me. Why are you dating me? I mean it made since when it was hit it and quit it
but this feels different.”
Dean didn’t respond so Cas felt safe to continue.
“We couldn’t be more different.” Cas complained.
“I’m nineteen I didn’t finish high school, I’m homeless except because of your
good graces. I’ve got a criminal record, you you’re rich, you’ve got a great
job that you obviously take very seriously. Where did you graduate from
college?” Cas asked. Dean ducked his head slightly
“Stanford.” He replied.
Cas laughed shaking his head “of course… you graduated from Stanford, and I
don’t even have my GED.”
“Those are just details.” Dean insisted firmly Cas’s head shot up as he found
himself being quoted.
“…minutiae, window dressing, knowing that I graduated from Stanford doesn’t
change what you know about me.”
Dean maintained
Cas blinked rapidly fighting off tears.
“That isn’t the real me, that doesn’t define me anymore than your past defines
you.”
“Then how do I know what’s real?” Cas asked.
“Trust yourself… and me, and you’ll know.”  
Cas sat in silence for a moment. Dean held his breath wishing that he could
hear the thoughts going through the other man’s head.
“Let’s take a shower.”
He said finally.
Dean nodded. He could do that.
Cas stood he was still naked the fluid grace of his body always surprised him.
he walked towards the bathroom. Dean tried not examine him, this wasn’t about
that, still he knew the sway of his hips and the pertness of his ass would
likely haunt him later.
It was surreal showering with Dean. His head was clearer now and he was paying
more attention to the other man’s body. he liked the way his chest looked, how
his muscles moved beneath his skin. He remembered how nice it had been touching
him last night. Cas removed the bandage from his wrist his cuts were looking
better, not completely healed, but on the mend.  Cas stepped under the spray
with a heady sigh. The heat of the water relaxed him. Dean hesitated before
stepping inside the glass cube, his shower wasn’t practically large. In the
past he’d considered that a blessing, he’d had sex inside it more times than he
could count.
Dean cleared his throat.
“This may not be the best idea.”
Cas glanced over at him.
He was semihard, and the look on his face was flattering.
“We aren’t having sex, right?” he asked Dean.
“Not if you don’t want to.” he agreed.
Cas nodded. “Can we try something else?” he asked.
Dean nodded.  “Whatever you want.”  He agreed.
“Get off with me.”
Dean licked his lips and swallowed hard, before nodding. Dean stepped into the
shower with him. they were less than three feet apart.
Cas took the bar of soap from the nook and soaped his body. He tried to focus
on his hands. Usually when he masturbated he couldn’t really touch his cock
till closer to the end. If it felt too good too soon he would pull back. Dean’s
eyes were tracking the movements of his hands. Surprisingly Cas found it
erotic, Dean watching him. He started slow soaping his arms up to his
shoulders. Before running his soapy hands across his chest in circles. Cas was
watching Dean’s eyes. There was fire in their depths. It oddly thrilled him.
Dean watched as Cas soaped himself his hands traveled across his chest, over
his pierced nipple a dash of soap clinging to his puckered nipple. Dean knew he
was growing hard, he could feel the ache deep in the pit of his stomach. He
kept his eyes locked to the trail Cas was making with his hands. He’d seen him
naked this entire time, but it felt like Cas was revealing himself to him a bit
at a time by the soapy path of his hands. He trailed down over the flat plan of
his stomach over his hip, covering the tattoo of the bumble bee perched on his
pelvis.
Dean wanted to lick the tattoo.
“What are you thinking?” Cas asked.
Dean paused unsure if he should reveal his lecherous thoughts.
“I was thinking about your tattoo. That if you weren’t covered in soap how I
would want to lick along the stem of the flower.”
Cas was surprised, he paused his hands, why did that sound so undeniably hot?  
Cas stepped forward, he stood on tip toe to kiss Dean.
Dean felt the press of Cas’s slick body against him.
Cas wasn’t trying to rush it like last time, so Dean let him control the pace.
His hands where still covered in soap as ran them over Dean’s chest. He liked
the feeling of his slippery skin beneath his palms. He could feel his pulse
elevate. He stepped closer Dean stepped back his back pressing against the
glass walls.
Cas ran his hand down Dean’s ribs the man shivered.
He pinched one nipple and was rewarded by a slight gasp. Cas wanted this.
His looped his arms around Dean’s neck pressing himself closer for a kiss. His
body sliding against Dean’s he tossed his head back
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dean swore, groaning deep in his chest, eyes closed.
His entire body was vibrating with the need to touch him back. His hands were
balled into fists at his side. It was bad enough the other day when Cas rubbed
against him, but now he was naked and slippery and fucking shit…
Dean hissed almost as if his touch caused him physical pain. He was biting his
lower lip.
As Cas gently stroked Dean’s cock. He focused on his hands of the feel of
Dean’s cock in his hands. The way his hand moved over the hard length of
velvety skin.
He pumped his cock in his hand, Dean’s eyes were squeezed shut he moaned as Cas
caressed him.
Cas’s own cock proved that it wasn’t quite dead after all, or maybe it was
simply rising from the dead.
He grabbed his cock with his left hand his grip was clumsy as he stroked
himself. The pleasure surprised him. Normally it felt good sure, but the
pleasure radiated from his pelvis outwards encompassing his entire body.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. It was litany in his head. It had been a while since he
had been with another person, and he was still a bit worked up from earlier.
Cas was getting him close without even really trying. He could feel himself
getting near that precipice.
“You keep that up you’ll make me cum.”
Dean murmured. Head laying back on the cool glass.
This was fine, he could do this. Hand jobs had no negative connotations for him
and this particular experience was going along way to erase all other hand jobs
from his mind. Dean looked hot. The way his muscles clenched and unclenched the
breathy sounds he made. The way he groaned deep in his chest.
“Yes.” Dean whispered.
“Yes. Yeees” he moaned stretching the word out in a groan of completion
Watching Dean cum sent Cas over the edge. Pleasure swamped him. His balls
tightened and he exploded.
For a moment his brain turned off, every synapse felt like it was firing at
once in a cascade of satisfaction. He was momentarily floating on the feeling,
before he slowly came back to himself. He stepped out of the shower grabbing a
towel to wipe the cum off before it got wet and sticky.
Then the doubt started to settle in. was this going to be enough for Dean would
he try to take it farther even though he came.  
Dean’s hair wasn’t even wet.  He grinned over at Cas. Lose limbed and cheerful.
“That was nice.” He said beaming.
Cas relaxed. Dean wasn’t anything like the other men he’d been with. He wasn’t
perfect, because no one was, but Cas knew he could trust him, and to a certain
degree he already did.
“I think I worked up an appetite how do pancakes sound?” Dean asked. Charming
as ever.
Cas smiled softly strangely in awe of the man before him. This man wanted to be
with him. Him of all people. A strange little fluttering filled his chest.
Expanding out until his entire being was filled with it. He felt high, but
happiness didn’t get people high, right?
“Sounds perfect.”
 
Chapter End Notes
     the almost sex at the beginning of this chapter was meant to feel
     rushed and not explained properly and awkward I hope I got that.
***** We teach people how to remember, we never teach them how to grow. *****
Chapter Notes
     ok so yeah I have the hardest time with Sam's voice so sorry if it is
     weak. all the places in this are fake its easier. also been having
     trouble with my laptop I need to take it in to get fixed it's not
     charging so hopefully that wont be an issue in any updates.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Cas didn’t bother with makeup today. He removed most of his piercings, his
industrial was bothering him, it amazed him how different he looked. He could
hear Dean moving about in the kitchen the sizzle of pancakes. The shower and
some remover pads had done away with most of it. His hair was still wet from
the shower he pushed it back out of his eyes. He would need to shave the sides
again, sometime soon. Maybe dye it.  he could probably shave his face too. It
normally took a while before any facial hair grew in but he was getting a
decent shadow.
He tossed on a comfy pair a ripped black jeans and an open side tank. He wasn’t
really expecting on going out but it was comfy.
Dean had tossed on a white cotton t shirt. He still wore the grey sleep pants.
Cas felt good. He was surprised by how good he felt. Cumming always felt good.
That was actually part of his problem in a nutshell, but he felt oddly content.
“Morning.” He called out teasingly.
Dean grinned.
“Morning… Breakfast is almost ready; did you want one or two?”
“surprise me.” Cas called out sitting at the bar.
He watched Dean easily flip the bubbling tan circle.
How the hell did he make cooking pancakes sexy?
“I don’t have any maple syrup, but there is some strawberry jelly in fridge.”
Cas nodded he moved to grab the jelly.  This was nice. Oddly domestic, yet he
liked it.
He didn’t really have many positive domestic memories. His abuser had a
peculiar relationship with motherhood in more ways than one. She wanted
perfection, from herself and her family. He used to wear sweater vests and comb
his hair, till he dropped out of school he’d maintained his status in the top
5% of his class. He left before he entered high school but she expected him to
be valedictorian like his brother. This level of domesticity he never saw. No
one ever made him breakfast in the morning or served him. Perhaps as a child,
but he also recalled standing on chairs so that he could reach the cabinets to
make himself a bowl of cereal. In a way he’d always been self-sufficient.
Cas slathered his pancakes in butter and the strawberry jelly. It was
delicious.
Dean watched Cas eat the food he made oddly warmed by his obvious appreciation.
His look was subdued today. No makeup and yet his eyes were still bright he had
to accept the fact that those eyes were really that ethereal color.
“Have you heard from Sam about your date tonight?” Cas wondered breaking him
from his reprieve
“Not yet.” He admitted. It was early still around eight o’clock.
He’d always been an early riser, not as much for Sam.
Then again they both had a tendency to burn the candle at both ends.
“Are you excited?” Cas wondered. Dean plated his food turning off the stove,
watching Cas he wasn’t sure how he was reacting. He simply seemed curious
rather than down on himself as he was earlier.
“I don’t know.” He admitted.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Cas asked.
Dean joined him at the bar. Smearing his pancakes with the jelly.
The sweetness of the fruit was enough to compensate for the dryness of the
gluten free pancakes. Last time he tried that.
“I’ve never been good at analyzing my feelings.” He admitted.
“So you’ve said, but have you told Sam that?”
Dean pondered a moment.
“Not specifically in those words.” He admitted as he took a bite.
He was in the middle of taking a drink of his orange juice when Cas spoke
again.
“Last night you said you had feelings for Sam.”
Dean nearly choked on his juice, he sputtered as he swallowed hard.
Cas was watching him he couldn’t read the expression on his face, he was
analyzing him.
Dean felt his face heat up. He cleared his throat.
“I’m not asking you to quantify them to me, but you know something is there.”
Dean nodded softly.
He didn’t know what it was but he knew he cared about Sam.
“I guess I’m nervous.” He admitted.
“About what?” Cas wondered confused. He had to admit he couldn’t understand
what scared him.  He had a family that loved him and a man who loved him too,
what would be the problem? Too much love? But he listened and tried to
understand.
He watched as Dean struggled to find the words. He bit his lip “That things are
going to be different.” He murmured quietly shuffling the food around on his
plate “That everything will change.”
“Life is change…” Cas said gently. Change had been his bread and butter. It had
been the only constant thing in his life. Hell change had saved him.
“Me being here has changed things right?” he probed softly
Dean nodded.
“Is that bad?” Cas wanted to know the answer for more than just Sam. Having
Dean was an uncomfortable but overwhelmingly positive change in his life.
“No,” Dean acknowledged   
“I just don’t know if I want things to change between me and Sam,”
“I like the way things are.” He added self consciously
“Do you really?” Cas wondered sensing his hesitation somehow.
Dean always thought he was a decent liar, but maybe that too was a sham
“I don’t know, it was easier. I didn’t have to deal with my sexuality or risk
losing the only real friend I ever had.”
Cas mused over this while eating the last bit of his pancake.
He was looking off into the distance, his expression pensive.
Before turning towards him.
“Well either way you’ve got at least one more friend now.”
The admission seemed to take something out of him, but Dean couldn’t help but
smile as he continued flirtatiously
“Friend with benefits.” Cas added with a salacious wink.
Dean laughed. He wanted to kiss Cas but refrained
“What about you?” Dean asked.
Cas cocked his head confused.
“You and Sammy have a date tomorrow, that I get to pick.”
Cas smirked. “Yeah?” he asked teasingly jumping out of the bar chair.
“Let me guess? Dinner and movie?”
“What are you saying?” Dean asked. Swiveling his chair so that he faced Cas the
back of it hitting the bar.
“I’m saying you don’t have any new tricks.” He teased with a little shake.
“Oh I got moves.” Dean insisted grinning widely.
“Yeah old man?” Cas taunted stepping closer so that he was situated between
Dean’s spread knees.
Dean’s gaze dropped down to his mouth. He’d taken his lip ring out.
Cas reacted first. He leaned upwards his mouth pressing against his.
The kiss was soft and over too quickly. Cut off by the shrill electronic sound
Dean heard his cell phone ring in the distance he’d left it in the bedroom.
***
  Sam slept in his bed last night, for the first time in the last few days. He
had trouble falling asleep it wasn’t new, except this time it wasn’t the dark
inevitably pit in his thoughts that kept him awake. He was childishly excited.
It was like the first day of high school kind of nerves. Would Dean like him?
that in itself felt like high school all over again. He drank a glass or two of
wine watching  Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt  on Netflix, before laying down. He’d
passed out sometime after two. His alarm woke him at nine.
He went about his morning workout routine debating when he should call Dean.
sit-ups, pushups, pullups, shower.  He soaked under the water for several
moments. This was the most pressured date in his entire adult life. He had to
really nail it. Dean had been weird with him yesterday, maybe it was because of
the curve balls they kept throwing him with the open dating, or maybe it was
just the idea of dating him. Which was why he was going all out tonight.   
Souvenir de la Malmaison. it was a quiet, beautiful, expensive French
restaurant in the city.
lightyears beyond what he could afford, under normal circumstances he would not
have been able to get a reservation, but this was where the gay agenda actually
came into play.
He’d introduced the Chef de cuisine to his current boyfriend.  If it sounded
trite it was because it was. They’d gone to school together he and Trevor,
except while he dropped out and wound up in the oh so glamorous  IT business
Trevor dropped out and went to culinary school.
He’d met Riley in rehab. It had been very random, he ran into Trevor at the
bar, while he’d actually been on a date with Riley. It hadn’t worked for him
and Riley, but he and Trevor were six months solid now thanks to him, and were
still enough in the honeymoon phase of dating to think they would always been
together, and that Sam deserved his own shot at what they had. Who knew how it
would really work out, but Riley deserved someone good and he had to admit he
had his own hopes about tonight.
Maybe he was setting unrealistic expectations, he’d done as much when he
fantasized about telling Dean the truth, but it would be hard to mistake his
intentions at a place like Souvenir de la Malmaison.
He wanted Dean to see him in a new light. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about
him, or that he was capable of being romantic with him. So Sam planned the most
fucking romantic date he could think of. He was spending more than his rent on
tonight’s date but as far as he was concerned it was worth it. He was gambling
his future with Dean, the payoff was worth the risk. If he could break through
Dean’s defenses show him how he felt him then … he didn’t want to make plans,
he just wanted to try.  Maybe it was cheating, but he just wanted Dean to let
him in.
He had to admit he was jealous of Cas in that regard. Dean let the kid into his
life faster than he’d ever seen with anyone.  He knew Dean, but it had been
years since he really let him in. When they were young, they used to talk about
everything. He remembered nights of listening to screaming or crying in
background only to know he was safe because Dean was there. When he was very
small he’d climb into bed with Dean and snuggle, he out grew that as they aged
and craved climbing into his bed for an entirely different reason. They’d talk
at night, share everything that happened during the day. They shared things
they were afraid of, things they hoped for. Dean wanted to work on cars, maybe
own his own garage, Sam wanted to be a lawyer. Find ways to help people.
He remembered exactly the night everything changed.
He knew better than to keep the playgirl where Kubrick could find it, and yet
he had.  His own father had been a piece of work, but compared to Kubrick he
was sane.
It wasn’t the first fight Dean had ever gotten into, he and Kubrick had gone
around and around.
Kubrick had gotten it into his head that Dean was gay, and he hated it. Most of
it was petty name calling. He rarely used Dean’s name when speaking to him at
home. He just called him homo or faggot. Even today Sam still flinched a little
harder when he heard the word. He fed Dean last, whatever was left, sometimes
he didn’t get dinner. Sam tried to give him his bread once and he got slapped
for it. Dean told him he was fine and not to get himself hurt. Dean started
hiding poptarts around the house for himself.
Ironically he mostly ignored Sam, and his own daughter. In favor of assaulting
Dean.
On that day he’d stayed after school that day for study hall. He didn’t really
need the extra help, but he found it easier to study and work at school than at
home. He’d walked home. By the time he made it to the house, the fight had been
in full swing. Kubrick had Dean pined to the wall with his forearm across his
throat. Sam hit Kubrick over the head with the lamp from the hallway.
Then he broke Dean’s arm.  Sam still remembered the audible snap and Dean’s
scream.
Sam remembered his heart pounding he’d been terrified. Kubrick had been
screaming faggot over and over telling Dean he was going to burn in hell. Dean
was bleeding from a cut on his head. Jo was screaming just shrieking over and
over again. Crying, her face beet red.
Kubrick slammed Dean into the wall. Hard enough to give him a concussion.
Sam had jerked Dean to his feet wobbly Dean lead them down stairs into the
basement locking the door. They hid underneath the stairs. Dean rocking back
and forth slightly his head slowly oozing blood. Sam had been so afraid for him
terrified that he was going to die.
     “I promise you nothing like this will happen again.” Dean had murmured.
“I’ll take care of you Sammy.”
He held Jo close her tiny nails digging little crescent scratches into his arm.
He held his hand, almost painfully hard. Even in his terrified he’d been
flustered by Dean’s hands in his.
Dean passed out after that. Sam didn’t get a chance to talk to him till much
later. When he did things were different. Dean was angrier, and more motivated
than ever. He’d always pushed himself in school, but his drive was intensified.
He also threw himself into women, but more into his school then finally his
job. Sam knew the Dean he grew up was still there deep inside.
They hadn’t talked much lately, sure they had spoken, but after that night,
after Sandover, after Lisa, after rehab. There was so much there that the
hadn’t talked about. He wanted to change that. He knew what he wanted, he just
hoped he could help Dean find what he wanted.
     Sam took a deep breath. He could do this. No pressure right.  It took Dean
a moment to answer the phone.
“Heya Sammy.” He murmured into the phone.
“Hey.” Sam licked his lips swallowing hard. He never really expected to be this
nervous.
“What’s up?” Dean asked when Sam didn’t reply.
“Do you wanna spend the day with me?” he asked.  
The seconds seemed to tick by slowly
“Yeah that sounds fun.”
Sam released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“Yeah, I’ll pick you up…” he paused. “Something casual is fine, I’ll take you
back to change later.”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah ok,”
“See in twenty.” Sam replied.
“See you soon.”  
Sam didn’t have the entire day planed per say. He had a loose idea of where he
wanted things to go. Starting with casual fun, working his way up to romantic.
He wanted Dean in his bed, but he wanted more from him than that and was more
than willing to wait.
***
“You sure you’re going to be ok while I’m gone?” Dean asked. For the fifth
time. It was actually starting to get a bit insulting. He was fine. Actually he
was better than fine. He was good. Hell he hadn’t been this good, if a fucking
long time. If ever really. In his experience happiness was fleeting but he
wasn’t going to dwell on that, he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
“Don’t worry I won’t delete your saved episodes of project runway.” Dean
actually blushed.
“Hey it is a very competitive show.”
Cas smirked. Plopping down on the sofa kicking his feet up on the coffee table
as if to illustrate.
“I’ll be fine I’ll kick back watch some TV eat that pizza you left, if I get
bored I’ll go hang with Kemp.”
Dean nodded thoughtfully before moving quickly back to the kitchen.
“You’ll need this then.”
Curious Cas peeked over the back of the sofa into the kitchen.
Dean pulled something out of a drawer before striding back to him.
“What is it?” Cas wondered. A master remote?”
Dean extended out a key to him.
It was a plain little brass key on a little silver ring. Dean was giving him a
key…
“Is that to the liquor cabinet? Because I couldn’t find it the other day.” He
teased not fully grasping the impact of what was before him.
“It’s to the apartment.” Dean said as if it was obvious, but that wasn’t
obvious. Dean was giving him a key to his place. Wasn’t that a bit fast? Or a
bit too serious? Then again he was sort of already living with him, things were
moving in a different order for them.
“Oh.” He muttered partially cause he didn’t know what else to say. He took the
key in his numb hands. Holding it as if was something precious, gently slipping
it into his pocket.
He’d never had a key to a place before. Not even to go water someone’s plants
or whatever trusted neighbors did.
“Thanks.” He replied reverently
Dean cocked his head clearly confused slightly by his response
“Hey its cool you live here too, and not just cause we are dating.”
Cas scrunched up his face confused again.
“Huh?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Dean begun. “and I know you don’t have a place
to stay and even if this stuff doesn’t work out with us, I want you as a
roommate.”
“Why?” Cas wondered.
“Why do you wanna be my friend?” Dean asked
Cas nibbled on his lips.
“I like you, you’re decent.”
“That response works the same for you.” Dean turned back to him.
“But I have no credit or rental history… I’ve got a record.”
Cas spun arms wide to encompass the apartment.
“Your landlord would not want to rent to me.”
“Let me deal with that, do you want to live here?”  
“Yeah.” He admitted. He did. “I can’t pay rent.”
“We can figure out the logistics later, I just wanted to let you know I want
you to stay either way.”
Cas squeezed his fist at his side pressing it into his leg trying to keep the
tears at bay. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this but he was fucking
lucky that he got it, and he might be stupid for getting invested but he wanted
to stay. For the first time in forever the grass didn’t seem greener on the
other side.
“Have fun with Sam, and remember what we talked about.” Cas called out plopping
back down on the sofa. He meant it. He wanted Dean to have fun and relax.
***
Dean wore a plain black T-shirt and jeans with a burgundy dress shirt thrown
over it. It flapped slightly behind him as he bounded towards him. As usual
Sam’s heart skipped a beat seeing him, except this time he didn’t need to be
ashamed they were going out on a date. They regularly took Dean’s car, because
his was shit compared to Dean’s. The four door 2004 silver Saturn ion had seen
better days. The back two windows no longer rolled down. There was a chunk of
the ceiling missing over the back passenger side door from when he gave a
coworker with a bike a ride home. He had boxes in the back seat that he kept
meaning to put in storage. Basically his car was a mess, but he wanted to take
Dean out. Maybe he wanted to take back a little bit of control.  Sam was
parallel parked on the street.
He hopped out of the car as Dean approached. The day was surprisingly warm,in
 the high fifties,
Dean paused to take the other man in. He had his long hair pulled back in a
slight ponytail he wore a heather green t-shirt with a brown canvas jacket.
Dean arched a brow at the other man as he marched around the car purposefully
to open the passenger side door for him.
Sam shrugged playfully
“Whaaat, it’s a date?”  he insisted emphasizing the word.
Going into it Dean had known what Sam planned he knew that today they wouldn’t
be hanging out like they usually did, that this was a test of something more
but he hadn’t expected it to feel so awkward. He’d known this man almost his
entire life and now it was profoundly weird, between them .
“Now you’re making me look bad.” Sam accused lightheartedly when Dean failed to
move into the car.
Dean shook off his gawkiness and slid into the car.
This was a first date. First dates were supposed to be awkward, that was half
the battle.
“Sorry.” Dean murmured staring at his hands in his lap once Sam joined him. he
wasn’t normally this pathetic on dates. Now that wasn’t he was just the same
only he was normally much better at hiding it. Sam shot him a glance
“Nervous?” he wondered. A bubble surprised of laughter escaped him. He hadn’t
expected Sam to notice but of course he would.
Dean nodded slightly with a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Me too.” Sam admitted.
They chuckled together, and suddenly it was somehow less weird.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I reacted when you told me how you
felt.” Dean whispered. He was still staring down at his clasped hands in this
lap. Meekness wasn’t normally Dean’s style. Sam was surprised, by it.  
“You just seemed so sure of your feelings.” Dean murmured his voice distant.
He’d been thinking about it since Cas mentioned something.
“That’s just not me,” Dean admitted glancing up to meet his eyes.
“I’ve never been very good at analyzing my emotions and the older I got the
harder it got.”
“I shudder to think of how you’ll be when you’re sixty.” Sam commented good-
humoredly
Dean smiled too.
“But I want to let you know I’m trying ok.”  
Sam was speechless.  He met Dean’s green eyes. They were so close he could see
the smattering of freckles across his nose. He wanted to kiss him. He leaned in
slightly bringing their faces closer together.
Dean pulled away.
Dean watched as Sam straightened facing forward again. Smooth recovery.
Dean wondered if he should tell Sam about what happened this morning with Cas.
Sam grinned over at Dean
“You ready?”  Sam asked.
Dean nodded.
***
Sam wasn’t much of a chef. He knew how to cook to sustain himself but he found
no real joy in it. Dean on the other hand enjoyed cooking. He’d discovered the
talent as an adult and his talent quickly flourished. He had a penchant for
cooking healthily true, but he knew how to pull every ounce of flavor from
food, and managed to make things like a Broccoli Rabe and Kale into a salad
that didn’t taste like grass clippings.  The first stop that Sam had included
on the whirlwind tour of romance was a local farmer's market. It was a bit of
drive from the city’s center, but the time in the car wasn’t as awkward as he
feared it might be after the rejected kiss. Sam felt incredibly stupid for even
attempting it. He needed to remember that this was a first date, he needed to
move at that pace.
It was hard for Dean to open up to his feelings and it was hard for Sam to
ignore his. For years he’d ignored it, shoved it down and pretended he didnt
love him. Now that the truth was out in the open it was nearly impossible for
him.
Dean was beaming.  The market wasn’t particularly large, but there were several
stalls bearing fresh fruits and veggies. One each side of the small lane. Brick
buildings flanked the lane on either side, boasting small shops.
Dean was as excited as Sam hoped he would be. Dean had been trying to drag him
here for months.  He’d resisted mostly because the idea of walking around as
Dean excitedly talked about vegetables sounded too intimate.
It wasn’t peek growing season, but it was a surprisingly warm day the stalls
weren't as stocked as they might be in the spring or summer months, but it was
still enough to linger through.
 Dean gestured to the nearest cart excitedly not disappointing at all.
“They have purple potatoes,”
“And purple carrots too apparently which I did not know existed.” Sam
continued.
Dean smiled at him.
“This is nice.” he commented quietly.
Sam reached for his hand and felt extremely rewarded when Dean let him hold it.
Dean’s hand was warm and rough against his own. His misspent youth fixing up
cars, imagining owning a garage.
Dean felt his pulse elevate. He had to admit that wasn’t the reaction of
someone who had no reaction to someone. At first he found himself nervously
watching to see if people were watching him. Oddly enough he hadn't felt this
nervous to be seen with a man yesterday with Cas, but than again yesterday no
one he knew would have seen him. It took him longer than he would like admit to
relax.
They wondered like that hand in hand stopping at different stalls
Dean picked out some kale, potatoes, winter squash, and ripe citrus fruits.
Dean’s cellphone beeped. Sam’s heart fell as Dean pulled away to fish in his
pocket. There was a text.
“It’s from work.” Dean murmured quietly studying the screen. The man he’d just
been walking with dissapeared, his brow furrowed in concentration.  Sam could
tell there was hesitation on his face. He was feeling cheated. Dean was going
to leave.
“Do you have to go?” Sam wondered after Dean ceased walking to focus on his
screen he’d been aiming for magnanimous, that it would be fine if Dean left,
except his tone ended in bereft.   
“What?” he asked clearly distracted.
“Do you have to go?” he reiterated
“Nooo.” he began slowly drawing out the word in hesitation before becoming more
certain. He looked up from the phone facing Sam.
“No, Davis can handle it, it's his account I’ll just email him the information
he needs.”
Sam felt oddly, excited.
“Do you have anymore plans?” Dean wondered.
Sam paused. Sure actually he had several ideas, but he wasn’t sure what Dean
meant.
“Nothing at this exact moment.”
“Wanna try something?” Dean teased pointing to one of the buildings that lined
the stalls.
The brick building sported a blood red door and vibrant crimson neon sign.
Psychic, tarot readings, palmistry.   
 Sam scoffed. “Do you believe in that?”
He could see the mischievous gleam in Dean’s eyes he was messing with him.
“Yeah ok.” Sam agreed. Why not it could be fun.
***
Dean had to admit his reasoning for coming into the shop had simply been to
change the subject, he should really go into the office, he hadn’t talked to
anyone about so he wouldn't jinx it but he was up for a promotion, still he
didn’t want to leave Sam.
 Once inside it seemed diverting. The air was thick with incense, the lighting
dim and atmospheric. The first half of the store was jammed packed with
saleable goods. Rocks,crystals, charms, incense,candles. The shelving was
overlaid with decorative purple and gold or red and black cloths, similar
tapestries adorned the walls, to the point where the modern building was
transformed, it felt older than it was, as if it was tucked away in a small
section of the world.
     The woman behind the bar was older with long braided grey hair. She smiled
at them.
“What can I help you two with today?” she asked.
Dean bit his tongue to hold back his joke is you were really psychic you’d know
what we wanted.
The woman cocked her head to the side.
“I am not the psychic that would be my son. The reading are that way.” she
continued pointing towards a door at the back of the shop.
Ok something in his expression must have given him away clearly.
The woman’s son sat at a table in the back room he didn’t even glance up as
they entered
He looked completely average. He was young handsome with dark hair clean
shaven, he wore a black t-shirt and jeans, he didn’t match the rest of the
shops aesthetic at all. The table was bare wood when in other shops Sam had
been to they laid down intricate cloths.
“Have a seat.” he indicated.
Sam gently pushed Dean towards the table, he’d thoroughly enjoyed the look of
stupification on Dean’s face then again he’d been an easy read on where his
mind was at. Sam had his fortune read before in the past. The trick was to
leave the answers vague and open ended where the querent was left to interpret
the cards as much as the reader.  Sam always saw it as more of a way to examine
your life from an outside perspective and at the moment he was not interested
in further examining his life.
“Why don’t you give it a try, Dean.”  the man glanced up at them now his eyes
dark brown like chocolate. They were studying Dean as if trying to read him.
“What kind of reading do you want?” he asked his voice was a rich timbre
Dean shrugged. “ I guess just whatever is standard.” he muttered.
The man nodded studying him.
“You don’t believe.” it was a statement rather than a question.  Dean shrugged
again. He wasn’t expecting anything special.
He begun shifting the cards in his hands, the shuffle of the cards against
themselves was loud in the room.
“I need you to focus on your life, where you are, where you have been, where
you want to go.” the man murmured his words were rhythmic in themselves almost
like a chant.  
Dean did as he was told, he could play along like the best of them. He thought
about his childhood, how his past abuse affected his present life, how he’d
worked to earn the position he had, but still wasn’t truly happy.
“Stop.”
The man began laying out the cards his movements fluid and practiced.
The first he laid face up vertically in the center the second horizontally also
face up across it. Then he moved slowly in a measured circle around the center
cards first to the above, then the left, then below then right, before forming
a column starting at the bottom moving upwards besides the right card laying
out  four cards before placing a fifth to the right of the last card at the
top.
“This is a woven spread.” the man informed him. “Each card is tied together
like all aspects of your life are joined.”
The man paused waiting for Dean who nodded gently the man slid the second card
down so that it no longer obscured the first.
“The first card in your inner self.”  Dean stared at the card was an effigy of
a night that lay on his tomb three swords hung above his head on the while
another decorated the length of his tomb.
“The four of swords. Represents your inner vigil, a hermit's repose, you feel
that it is your duty to shoulder your burdens alone, that you may not rely on
others. This solitude is both self-imposed and self-appointed exile.”
Dean swallowed hard lucky guess.
The man moved towards the second card.
“This is your mask card, it is the face you show to the world.”
Dean glanced down at the card staves or sticks of some kind were moving
diagonally across a field he could see the blue sky in the foreground the grass
at the bottom.
“The eight of wands. Where swords represent conflict wands represent action.
Your mask is one of movement hastily performed least you appear to be holding
still. It is a card of great haste and great hope, a rush towards a felicitous
end yet paired with your inner self your view of that hope is false, turning
your action into the ceaseless spinning of your wheels. ”
He could hear Sam shift uncomfortably behind him he cleared his throat.
The man continued. To the next card above the middle two.
“This is your crown card. This is the direction you should follow.”
The card was a hand extending from a cloud above a garden holding a golden disc
with a pentagram on it.
“The Ace of pentacles represents contentment instead strife. Connecting back to
your inner self it is a moving away from your self imposed loan vigil by
instead finding a sense of fulfillment either through solving some problem
within or brief moment of ecstasy find and focus on moments of contentment.”
Dean flashed back to this morning with Cas it had been nice he could do that.
Compared to the rest of the reading it was relatively light.
“Your next card is your immediate past, which is Temperance number fourteen in
the major arcana. In your immediate past you have had abundance wealthy economy
to  accommodate others.”
Dean couldn't argue with that.  
“Some of the motivation to accommodate stems from both your mask and inner self
card’s desire to convey action and your inner self’s need to shoulder the
burden of others.”
Dean bit his lip this was supposed to be fun and diverting it was diverting
 alright but his focus now was on how eerily accurate this man saw his life.
Sam watched Dean Sam had to hand it to the card reader he was doing a very good
job of it. Sam took a step closer and laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“This is your cop out card. This is what you need to avoid in your life. The
card is the Lover's number six in the major arcana.”
The card had a man and woman holding hands. He didn't like the idea of the
lovers being something he should avoid. It hit him hard… not that he believed
in this mumbo jumbo
“This card represents attraction, love, beauty and trials overcome, but in this
placement it represents a reminder to not be distracted by love or to lose
sight of what you need to be working on. This could represent something
personal or professional. I believe that it is the conflict between your inner
self and mask, you should focus on moments of contentment, but not lose sight
of dealing with the real issues.”
Dean was about to ask what issues  he knew he had a few, but the man moved on.
The card looked plenty ominous, a prostrate man pierced and bleeding by swords.
 
“This is your immediate future, the ten of s words it represents pain,
affliction, feelings of desolation, but by design.”
“That sounds peachy.” Dean muttered. The man’s eyes flicked up towards him
clearly not impressed with his sarcasm.
“The next  card represents your hopes and your fears.”
The card was a woman on a throne holding up a sword.
“The queen of swords she represents familiarity of sorrow, sadness, absence,
privation.isolation.
You fear is being alone. Separation from  those you care about and yet we know
from your inner self card that you feel that you need to be alone that its is
your duty to care for others, you find being alone makes this easier.”
“Your next card represents the people around you and the way they see you. The
card is Strength number eight in the major arcana this means that it represents
a particular person who views you this way. Strength represents power, energy,
action, courage.  Someone knows you well enough to realize you protect others.”
Sam watched the man work, he had to admit it was accurate for what he knew of
Dean, he could easily imagine he was the person mentioned because he knew how
strong Dean really was.
“Your present state it the King of Pentacles you are opening your mind letting
yourself examine your life whether you believe that I can predict or not this
is allowing you to see different paths maybe you have gotten distracted, but
its is ok to be content as long as you move forward.”
He paused allowing Dean time to process. Dean nodded slowly.
The next two cards represent your out come the first is one months time but it
is not a card of destiny so the final outcome takes place in two months time.”
“Ten of wands,”
The card was a man loaded down by the weight of ten staves walking away from
the frame.
“There is going to be success it may seem as if everything is as it should be
and more,, but this card symbolizes false-seeming and perfidy you will still
gain something and it  will feel like success. However whatever it is it will
cause more pain.
The last card was a man on a throne with a sword.
“The final outcome which will happen in two months time  is the king of swords
 he represents some type of authority. A  gain in power either over oneself or
job  It might be personal. In the long term it represents a feeling of being
more in control, more in power.”
“The major arcana represent specific points in your life's journey, in this
reading you have more swords than any other card, it means there will be much
strife in your life.”
Dean bit back his comment what was new. There was always strife and conflict in
his life.  
Dean paid the man and was more than happy to leave.
“That was interesting.” Sam commented quietly.
“That was a waste of twenty bucks” Dean groused still unable to shake the
feeling that somehow the man was able to see way more than he should have.
“Did you have lunch plans?” Dean asked feeling hungry and cranky because of it.
He shook his head.
Dean was tempted to cry off, he wanted to go home. That reading gave him more
to think about than he wanted, but he hated to disappoint Sam. He was here
because he owed it to Sam to figure out what these feelings he had meant.
“Sandwiches?” Dean suggested thinking of the chain sandwich shop they passed on
the way here.
“Yeah sounds good.” Sam admitted.
It took fifteen minutes to get back to the car and drive to the shop.  
Once they got to the shop the ordered quickly and sat in a booth towards the
back.
The small table seemed to fill the distance between them giving Dean the space
he needed.
“You’re not having fun are you?” Sam wondered
“What are you kidding?” Dean asked but Sam just raised a brow at him. He could
usually see through his bullshit.
“I don’t know.” he admitted. He liked going to the farmer’s market and even to
a certain degree the tarot reading, but it was Sam.
He knew he had feelings for Sam, he cared about him, he didn't want to
disappoint him. He valued his opinion, but he didn’t know what to do with those
feelings.
Then there was Cas neither of them fit into the life he’d made for himself.
There wasn’t a rule that said he needed to be straight to do his job, that
would be discrimination it was just an unwritten understanding. His coworkers
made jokes, ribbed each other for being gay. Nothing bad enough that he felt he
needed to report it to HR but it was enough that he was hesitant.
He knew his past didn’t exactly help him there. It wasn’t just with Kubrick,
with Lisa as well. He knew they were doomed long before she found out he liked
men, but somehow they both found that as the source.
Part of the reason he hesitated this morning, beside clearly seeing that Cas
wasn't ready was that he wasn't ready. He wanted to talk to Sam about it, but
it sounded so pathetic and stupid.
“It was fun so far.” he added trying to placate Sam.
It wasn’t Sam’s fault really it was nice so far. He liked spending time with
Sam. Maybe this was a bit different from them normally hanging out but not by
much.
What made him nervous was tonight. They had eaten sandwiches together a million
times, gone out in public together like with the Farmers market, but he knew
Sam had something romantic planned could sense it from his tone and his gaze.
He still didn't know how he felt.
Sam could feel Dean pulling away, if there was one thing accurate in the tarot
reading it was that Dean had a mask.  Sam wasn’t sure if he’d learned it living
with an abusive foster father who somehow knew he liked men and despised him
for it or from living a lie with Lisa, or maybe from Sandover, but Dean’s mask
was almost as much a part of him as anything else.
He could summon it up at any time and it was almost good enough to fool him.
Maybe he would take Dean home for a while before dinner let him have a chance
to relax a bit unwind, get out of his head.
Sam wanted to know what Dean was thinking he wished desperately that he could
find a way to ask, but he didn't.
“Tonight let's start over.”  Sam murmured quietly.
Dean looked up from his sandwich rapper he’d finished his food and continued to
stare at the remains lost in thought.
“What?” he asked.
“Today it was awkward right?” Sam asked Dean nodded just the slightest amount.
“ Let's start over, after I drop you off at home I want you to get ready for a
blind date to a fancy restaurant.”
Dean laughed slightly
“What role play already?”
Sam couldn't help but smile there he was. The real Dean beneath all the years
of shit piled on him as he tried to be the person other people wanted.  
“If you like.” Sam replied back smiling.
“Tonight will be the first time we meet.”
“Well just to warn you I kiss on the first date.” Dean teased before realizing
really what he was saying the heat that was always there for Sam simmered in
Dean’s eyes for a moment.
Sam had hope.
“I’ll give it a try.” Dean murmured.
***
Cas was staring at the TV. He was watching as the upside down Tim Gunn spoke to
the fashion designers in the workroom.
Cas had his legs flung over the back of the sofa, so that he nearly formed a
right angle along the couch. The blood was pooling in his head making him feel
light headed,but he felt like it was helping his viewing experience. He popped
a gummy worm in his mouth. Chewing the sour candy carefully. He’d had a junk
food craving the moment Dean walked out the door so he walked to the nearest
gas station so he could pick up junk food. Which wasn’t as close as he would
have liked. Talk about first world problems.
His junk food came in the form of popcorn, puffed cheetos and gummy worms. He
had the bags spread around him on the sofa in easy reach. When got back to the
apartment  he started the first season of project runway wanting to see what
all the fuss was about.
So far he couldn’t figure it out. He liked the outfits sort of, but he was
never the most traditionally fashion forward person.
Tim Gunn was cool, and it was always interesting to watch pretty people on tv.
Ultimately he was bored. He wasn’t used to this this level of inactivity.
Maslow's hierarchy of needs after all.
It was hard to focus on other needs when you were too busy not dying.
That had actually been kind of simpler in a weird way.
He had spent more time examining his emotions in the past couple of days than
he had in the past couple of years.  
Not that he ever really forgot about what his mother did or that he had a
brother. It just got pushed to the backburner. It was something he remembered,
but by not thinking about it he thought he’d been moving forward. Seems he’d
been naive.
His phone was ringing. He heard Rihanna blaring from his pocket. He shifted
slightly so that he could pull it out.
He glanced at the caller ID. It was Sky he didn’t even know that Sky had his
number.  
“Hello.” Cas murmured.
“Is Kemp with you?”  They asked quickly, their voice sounded hopefully maybe
slightly shaken.
Cas pulled himself into an upright position, the blood rushing out of his head
made him briefly dizy.
“No why?”
He wondered.  There was tense silence on the other line. Cas could tell that
Sky was hesitating telling him something.  
“Sky… what’s up?” Cas insisted trying to put pressure on them.
“ Kemp is missing.” Sky admitted.
Cas leaned forward focusing on the call. This wasn’t the first time something
like this happened. Kemp was just as homeless as Cas had been, sure they stayed
with Sky sometimes but while their parents were cool with them being
genderqueer and poly they were oddly uncomfortable with their lover living with
them under their roof.
Kemp had been saving as best as they could to try to get a place with Sky.
“Like missing missing or just hasn't  called you today?” he wondered.
He could hear Sky make a strange strangled sound over the line.
“Like they went to pick up some more drugs from Malik and hasn’t come back
yet.”
Cas felt all the blood drain from his face. “How long ago?” Cas wondered his
stomach full of apprehension.
“Last night.” they admitted.  The sinking feeling started to spread through his
entire body.
“Cas… Cas did you hear me?” Sky asked.
Cas wasn’t really listening. Kemp was probably fine. Surely it was just a
coincidence that it was last night. It had nothing to do with the fact that
Dean embarrassed Malik last night and that Kemp was Cas’s friend.
It was possible that Kemp had been picked up by the cops, it was always a
possibility, but honestly that was the better option.  If Malik decided to be a
dick he could have decided to kick the crap out of Kemp just for association.
“Where have you checked?” Cas asked.
Sky rattled off a list of the most likely places that Kemp would go if they
were just trying to get some time alone or got distracted and didn't call Sky.
Places where they might crash.
“Shit.” Cas swore, that left only shitty options. “Ok I’m gonna head out and
take a look around town, text me if you hear anything.”
“Ok,” Sky sounded relieved.
Cas threw his phone towards the back of the couch it bounced off harmlessly and
hit the cushions. Cas was freaking out. There was a reason he left Malik’s
crew. The man had a fucking temper.
“Fuck!” he shouted. If something happened to Kemp because of him he didn’t
think he could forgive himself.  
Cas briefly debated on texting Dean, asking for his help.
They were friends and friends helped each other, but he also had a lot riding
on this date.
He didn’t want to bother him, or rock the boat… he had already caused him
enough trouble.
Everything would be fine. It usually was. That was a delusion if he ever heard
one.
He could handle it himself. First he would recheck all of Kemp’s regular
haunts. If they didn’t show up when he was done that mean getting out  of his
comfort zone. If the cops picked Kemp up there Cas had the money to bail them
out, if Malik had Kemp, he would let them go once Cas showed up he was sure of
it. He could talk Malik down it wasn’t the first time in his life, there was a
reason Malik took things personally. He hadn’t mentioned it to Dean, because it
didn't matter but they’d hooked up a few times in the past. It was only when
Cas broke it off that Malik wanted to pimp him out. Punishment maybe? And if it
couldn't be solved by sex?
He paced back and front of the sofa for a long time his breathing elevated all
the possible scenarios running through his head. Project runway abandoned still
playing in the background. He didn’t even hear it.
 He took a deep shaky breath before he strode quickly towards the bedroom.
He dug in his duffle till he found it.
His switchblade.
 He’d never had to use it. He hoped he still wouldn’t
He grabbed his phone off the sofa, he left a note on the bar saying that he’d
be back later on the off chance that Dean made it back before him.
Chapter End Notes
     My partner is wiccan he helped me with the tarot reading. I actually
     did a reading for the character and it came out very well I think for
     a fictional character anyway. The deck I used was the rider waite
     tarot
     Also I own that Saturn ion I described
      
     I want to write this as a realistic story so there will be both happy
     and sad moments. I wont promise you guys a happily ever after because
     they don't exist but I plan to keep this story going a bit with
     multiple stories and if I hit the end I will try to end on a high
     note.
***** We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING TALK OF PAST SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, ATTEMPTED RAPE, HEAVY
     VIOLENCE.
     This is a rough chapter guys. don't hate me.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
TRIGGER WARNING TALK OF PAST SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, ATTEMPTED RAPE, HEAVY VIOLENCE.
 
 
Dean threw his keys on the little metal stand by the door.
He kicked off his shoes by the door arching his neck to one side then the
other. Rolling his shoulders. He was strangely stiff. This dating multiple
people was more stressful than he thought or maybe it was just dating Sam. They
had this strange overly familiar yet distant chord in their relationship.
He had touched Sam countless times over the years, never overtly sexual, but
now every touch inadvertent or not sent his body and mind into overdrive.
Analysing every touch for his feelings on it. Did he like it when Sam held his
hand, or his shoulder brushed against his, or their eyes met and locked. While
not a physical touch there was a moment in the car, when they glanced at each
other before leaving for the day. When he knew Sam wanted to kiss him. He could
see it on his face and feel a reaction on his own. He wanted it too maybe,
instead he pulled away.
“Hey Cas?” he called out, no answer.
The TV was in idle mode. Cas left without turning the tv off, but he didn’t
pull up another episode. The black screen continued to display the words no
input.
That was odd.
“Cas?” he called out again.
When there was still no reply Dean flopped down in front of the tv. He wasn’t
sure where Cas had gotten off to,but he had mentioned possibly hanging out with
his friend.
Dean had to remind himself he wasn’t Cas’s keeper. They were dating, but it
wasn’t like he had to know where he was every second of the day.
Sam said he had a few hours to kill before dinner. He supposed he could fire up
some episodes of Project Runway and make it work in the meantime, maybe take
another shower. He hadn’t been that focused on getting clean during the last
one.
Heat filled his face when he thought back to this morning. There was a time
when he used to think he was hard to fluster.
That was before Cas came into his life, before he started dating men. It wasn’t
 that it was that different. I mean it was but part of it was this was all new
to him. It was like starting over in the sex department.He was that same
awkward virgin all over.
He knew it wasn’t quite true, but he didn’t really feel like he knew what he
was doing, with Cas or with Sam.
Cas was so fragile yet unbelievably strong at the same time that it pained him
to be fragile.
Dean had no idea how to reach him. He’d read a bit more in those books but he
still wasn’t the best way to approach things. Then there was what did he say to
Sam about Cas or vice versa.
God his life had gotten complicated.
And yet this was strangely the happiest he had been in a very long time.
***
Cas was wishing he’d grabbed a thicker jacket when he’d rushed out the door.
 He’d simply thrown on his long duster. While it might look fantastic on him,
it didn't exactly help much against the elements. It was getting dark,  If the
rest of the day had been unseasonably warm it was making up for it now. A storm
was rolling in, he could feel it, in the way the wind picked up, with just an
edge of a bite to it, the smell of water in the air.
It was going to rain soon.  He was beginning to get worried, and he was pissed.
He still hadn’t found Kemp.  He’d stopped at the local LGBT shelter and a few
of the not so friendly ones just to be sure. He even checked with the cops.
They didn’t have Kemp and it wasn’t long enough to file a missing persons. It
was all dead ends, nobody gave a damn. It reminded him how little fucks the
world gave for people like him and Kemp.
The invisible mass of people living on their own eeking by, self medicating
with drugs, because mental and physical help was too expensive to come by when
you could barely pay for food. Getting hooked on the only thing that numbs the
pain. Then to watch people judge them for it. ‘Better not give that homeless
person money they might use it for drugs’  what were you going to use that few
dollars for? caffeine,nicotine,taurine ,  netflix. Everyone is addicted to
something, while he sympathized he’d known enough junkies in his life to know
they always relapsed, at one point or another. That didn’t mean they couldn't
recover and go forward from there, but it was a hell of alot easier to fall off
a wagon then to get on one.  
Cas was one of the lucky ones. He drank, but as of yet he didn’t consider
himself an alcoholic. He did drugs, but never to excess. He’d said it before
but maybe if anything he fucked too much, but he’d been safe.  
He didn’t know what he was doing. Just a few days ago he would have just gone
with it. Assumed that it was just part of life. That everyone’s life sucked as
hard as his did, and he knew to a certain degree it was true. Except he’d seen
how the other half lived, sure they were just as emotionally scarred and fucked
up as he was, but they had roofs over their heads and they didn’t to fuck
anyone or sell drugs to do it.
Cas wanted out of this life. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever had that
thought. He’d wanted out from pretty much the moment he first ran away.
He wanted to able to take a shit or a shower in peace and not have to worry
about someone interrupting him or running him off. For the first time in a long
time the his feet didn’t ache all day, because he hadn’t been walking all day
trying to find a job or a place to wait out the rain. For regular people rain
might be a slight inconvenience but when you’re homeless, the weather can
really fuck up your day.
It was however the first time he thought he could make it out.
This thing with Dean, was fucking scary.
Not only did he actually like the guy as a person, he wanted him as a man as
well.
This was it. His chance of making it out of this never ending cycle of abuse.
Again and again all his life people liked to pile it on him.
His mother, his brother, his foster parents, his lovers, the whole goddamn
system. Maybe he was just being angry, because here he was back out in it,
reminded of the unfairness of it all. Maybe he was just scared.
Kemp wouldn't be in this position if not for him, but it was only this
immediate threat that was his fault.  Even if Kemp had never met him, their
life would be hard, because their parents were bigoted assholes, because people
like to talk big about morals, ethics and christian values, but when it comes
down to it most of them would rather see people like Kemp suffer, or preferably
not see them at all then offer basic human compassion.  
Maybe he was bitter, no scratch that, he was bitter.
He wanted to call Dean, ask for his help use his influence to move the bullshit
that he couldn’t. Still, the nagging voice in his head would let him. The voice
was torn between reminding him that he didn’t need other people that he had
made it this far on his own for a reason, that people just slowed you down, but
he didn't really believe it. He was doing this for Kemp after all.
The other insidious thing the voice whispered was that Dean wouldn’t care. That
deep down Dean was just like the rest of them, that he only cared about Cas
cause he wanted to fuck him. That he wouldn’t give a damn about Kemp and
ultimately didn't really give a damn about him.  That it was some sort of
challenge to him and once he was able to fuck him on the regular he would be
done with him, and he would be back out here just a little more used up.
He really didn’t want to test that theory.  He didn’t know how he would handle
it if Dean wasn’t the man he wanted him to be.
***
“Why Sam Wesson, I do declare you clean up better than I ever would have
hopped.”  Charlie called out from behind him doing her best Scarlett southern
drawl impersonation.
He had to admit she had a point, he did look good.
He was wearing a three piece black notched lapel tux with a dashing monochrome
brocade waist coat and matching tie, the texture of the tie and vest matched
his coordinated, perfectly  folded, pocket square.
Shiny lace up patent-leather dress shoes helped complete his look.
He left his near shoulder length hair down, combed neatly .
Charlie was a tech wizard she left Sandover  a little over six months ago to
work for some dick  billionaire businessman and CEO at his company doing
private network security and she was his best friend.
He was nervous about tonight. Even more so than this afternoon, still he was
buoyed by hope, the wink and smirk on Dean’s face. ‘Role play already’ he’d
said.
He had no idea. They hadn’t exactly ever talked about his sex life in any terms
other than the very general, but there was a few kinks that never came up in
conversation.  He’d be fine if Dean wasn’t into them, but it should probably
come up at some point.
“So if you look this good why are you calling me over?” She wondered.
Charlie wasn’t the best person for dating advice. Her and her girlfriend Fae
had been dating for several months now, but before that she had been in a
socially awkward induced dry spell.
“I’m nervous.” Sam admitted straightening his tie for what felt like the
fiftieth time.
Charlie scoffed.
“I thought you would be on cloud nine, you did it. You’re at the final boss.
The last test.”
“That’s what makes it so hard.” Sam complained.
Charlie nodded.
“You two are something else.”
She muttered to herself.
Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I have never seen two people who belong together try so desperately to fuck
everything up.”
Sam felt his eyebrows raise up in surprise at her words
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there is nothing to worry about, you and Dean it’s a done deal, you
two have been in love with each other for years.”
Sam frowned looking at himself in the mirror. He hoped so. He didn’t know what
else he wanted in life besides Dean.
It sounded desperate, but it was the only light in his life right now. He hated
his job, he’d hated school, sometimes it felt like he hated everything. How had
he gotten this jaded, that the world looked so monotonous. That everyday he
struggled sitting in bed yelling at  himself in his head over and over that he
needed to get up to make it to work, that loading the damn dishwasher was a
hour long chore, because he was so existentially exhausted.  For so long, he’d
put all his eggs in one basket that someday he and Dean would find a way to
make this work and they could be with each other and everything else would work
out, they’d ride off into the sunset happily ever after and what not. Sure it
was completely unhealthy he was depressed he wasn’t delusional, but that hope
had kept him going through the worst of it.
In rehab when he’d been doubled over in pain he pictured Dean’s face. His
bright green eyes, charming cocky grin, the light layer of freckles that dusted
his nose. All of it.
Whenever he thought of calling everyone he knew to get a fist full of pills and
end it all, he thought of Dean.
He didn’t want to go so far as to say he was suicidal. He had just been
seriously considering it.
He’d never gotten past the daydreaming stage. Maybe things would be easier if I
killed myself.
Maybe he could go out on a high, get a bunch of oxy and fade out at the end.
Maybe he flirted with the idea a few times since getting out of rehab, maybe
even a little bit before.
He hadn’t gone through with it. Probably wouldn't have gone through with it.
“Yeah.” Sam murmured.  Tonight would be fine.
***
Dean straightened his white tie, before irately ripping it off. It still didn’t
look right. He purposefully undid each button on his pale blue dress shirt with
perhaps a bit more force than the fine fabric required.
He was nervous. That didn’t usually happen to him on dates.  Normally a nice
tailored suit felt like a second skin to him, and he was effervescently
charming.
Now he felt like every suit hung off him and all his ties were trying to choke
him to death. Not to mention he felt like the nerdy kid at the prom getting
asked to dance by the hot cheerleader. He was nervous, excited and terrified at
the same time.
He tossed the blue dress shirt on the other pile of rejected formal wear that
littered his floor. He had decided on black slacks and belt. He paced in an out
of his closet his black socks giving just a bit of glide over the carpet.
This was ridiculous,  he was a grown ass man he shouldn’t be acting like this.
He closed his eyes and walked into the closet and picked the first dress shirt
he grabbed.
A dove gray, well fuck he couldn’t wear, black slacks with that.  
***
Sam wasn’t driving for their dinner date, Charlie, because she is a goddamn
angel, paid for a limo as a last minute gift to him and Dean. Sam had
unbuttoned the jacket so he could sit properly but he was feeling oddly
exposed, he was beginning to understand what Dean meant when he said his suit
was his armor.  Still he wanted tonight to go perfectly. He had planned it for
what seemed like forever. Long before this became even close to reality.  He
called Dean when he was a block away.
“I’m almost there.” he informed him softly
“You ready?”
There was a palpable hesitation
“Uhhh… yeah.” he agreed quickly.
“See you in a sec.” he murmured hanging up the phone.
Sam took a deep breath. He had champagne iced and waiting for them when they
got to the restaurant. His heart was beating quickly but it wasn’t fear it was
excitement,elation, euphoric ecstasy.
 
Dean rushed down the stairs, the elevator took forever, and he was in a hurry.
As he took the steps two at a time he buttoned the cuffs of his silver grey
suit jacket. He had taken too long getting ready so he hadn't had time to shave
so he sported a haze of blonde stubble. He’d been pulling on the new pair of
 platinum grey slacks when Sam called. He’d paired the grey suit with a
luminous silver tie.
He tried to breath calmly as he dashed down the the stairs. This wasn’t a date
with his foster brother, this was a date with this hot guy named Sam that he
met at the office.
He reached the ground floor slightly out of breath. He stood there panting
taking it all in. he was excited about tonight. He barely had a moment to
acknowledge that thought before his phone beeped.
“It’s showtime.”
Sam’s text startled a strangled laugh out of him. He took a deep breath before
walking out the door.
He spotted Sam right away. He stood next to a black lincoln limo he wore a
black suit and he wore it well. He was holding the door of the limo open.
He was beaming at him.
As he reached him Sam extended his hand out to greet him.
“Hi, I’m Sam Wesson.”
Dean couldn’t help but grin as he took his hand.
“Dean Smith.”
***
 “Where are we going?” Dean asked after a moment. They settled into the limo.
He felt a little preposterous being the only two people in a limo made for six
but that was part of the decadent appeal.  He sat hands folded in his lap
awkwardly. He could play Sam’s ‘we don’t know each other’ game.
At the back of the limo there were two forward facing seats. The right side of
the limo was a row of leather covered benches opposite that was a small bar.
 Dean sat across from the bar while Sam sat caddy corner him in the rear
forward facing seat nearest him.   
“Souvenir de la Malmaison”
Sam replied, and Dean fought himself to object that place was ritzy and
expensive as all hell. He’d never actually been there himself but he knew it by
reputation.  
Sam raised a brow at him as if daring him to object, this was something Sam
really wanted. Dean could give him, that. Maybe if nothing else they could go
dutch.
“I’ve never been there myself,” he admitted “but I am a fan of french cuisine.”
Dean thought he was relaxing and playing his part fairly well. He was
attempting anyway to look at Sam in another light.
“Tell me about yourself.” Dean began trying to forge a normal date
conversation.
There was mischief in Sam’s eyes.
“Well you already know I work at Sandover, but that isn’t my dream job by any
means.”
“What is?” Dean wondered slightly surprised he hadn’t really thought about that
when he helped Sam get hired there. He needed a job and Dean knew that there
was always openings in the IT department. Sam was good at computers it had
seemed a win win
That question seemed to take Sam by surprise.
He laughed slightly
“You know I don’t even know, but I imagine that sounds like gibberish for a
hardened workaholic like yourself.”
“What makes you think I’m a workaholic?” Dean wondered leaning forward slight
splaying his legs so he could prop his elbows on them.
“I’ve seen the hours you put in at Sandover if I didn’t know any better I’d
think you had nobody to go home to.”
“Maybe I don’t, or didn’t until very recently.”
“I can relate, I grew up in the foster system.”
“Just you?” Dean wondered
Sam shrugged. “There were a few people over the years I bonded with.”
“I was in foster care as well” Sam nodded they were straying into a sensitive
subject so Dean changed it
“If you don’t know what you want to do as a job what do you do for fun?” Dean
wondered.
“I used to like playing soccer as a kid.”
Dean had brief memories of that he won some kind of award in a children’s
league or something.
“And now?” he queried.  
“Now I mostly watch tv.” he admitted a bit sheepishly.
“I can’t say that my hobbies are anymore diverse.” Dean agreed.
Sam had been about to speak when the car slowed to a stop.
He smiled “looks like we are here.”
***
 The Souvenir de la Malmaison was designed to look as if the entire building
belonged in a decadent french garden. The name came from the pale pink flat,
quartered blossom rose originally known as 'Queen of Beauty and Fragrance' the
rose received its present name when one of the Grand Dukes of Russia obtained a
specimen from the gardens at Malmaison for the Imperial Garden in St.
Petersburg, it was named after the Château de Malmaison, where Joséphine de
Beauharnais had created a magnificent rose garden.
The restaurant was a mesmerizing mesh of french opulence and fresh beauty of
nature. Sam extended his arm out to Dean as they passed the valet station. Dean
looped his arm in Sam’s as they stepped into the building.
The entryway was wide overhead arch the ceiling was painted with a mural of
rose garden.The  floor a pale glistening marble, the wall sconces were black
with golden branches extending outwards around them.
To their left was the main bar, it was decorated in minimalist modern colors,
the lighting directed upwards keeping the lower levels dim creating an effect
that seemed to enforce intimacy and elegance at the same time.
They walked past the bar to the service stand, the woman and Sam murmured
quietly outside of Dean’s hearing.
“Right this way gentlemen.” the woman said with a smile. She led them past rose
molded golden gilded mirrors that flanked the left side of the hallway, the
restrooms on the right side.  Into the main dining hall.
Several potted lattices  with the namesakes rose were dispersed around the
room. The main lighting for the room was provided by four green hand blown
glass chandeliers large glass leaves extend from the intricate glasswork.  The
hostess led them past the main dining room into another room.
Tucked into a circular alcove, a crystal chandelier illuminated a small table
and curved banquette. Rich green silk curtains hung to the side of the opening
should they require more privacy.
A silver wine stand stood just inside the alcove a bottle of champagne already
on ice.
Dean swallowed hard. This couldn't be any more romantic Sam really went all
out.
With a sweep of his hand Sam indicated that Dean should enter the banquette
first. Dean slid into the booth, Sam directly behind him. They were facing out
of the alcove now when their waitress joined them she was petite blonde blue
eyed.
“Hello my name is Lauren and I will be your server tonight would you like to
hear about the specials.”
Sam shook his head.   
 “No thank you.” she nodded, slightly
“I will be right back with you crudités.”
She handed out two menus , Dean glanced down, it was relatively short with only
a handful of hors d'oeuvres, entrees and a la carte meats and sides.  
“They change the menu every couple of months.” Sam explained
Dean continued to survey the menu
He begun to notice small number next to the items on the menu, the price. Jesus
the hors d'oeuvres cost as much as a full meal at some places. The cheapest one
was twelve dollars.
The waitress returned carrying a rectangular silver tray, full of iced raw
vegetables,
A little bowl of dip sat next to it. Dean had no idea what it was but it looked
delicious he could smell a hint of dill maybe.  
“Would either of you like a glass of champagne?” she asked. Sam nodded
Dear god yes Dean thought to himself this was making him nervous and excited.
“Please.” he held out Dean’s glass then his own. Dean sipped the champagne the
taste and bubbles exploded on his tongue. This bottle of champagne wasn't in
the double digit price range.
Once the woman left Dean leaned over to whisper in Sam’s ear breaking character
slightly Sam’s hair brushing softly against his lips as he spoke.
“Are you sure this place isn’t too expensive?” he asked. He pulled back to take
another sip of the champagne.
“If you object to the price of the food you will really object to the three
hundred dollar bottle Dom Perignon  of  you’re gulping down.”
Dean nearly choked just a hair's breadth away from sputtering twenty or thirty
bucks all over the table. He swallowed pointedly before continuing.
He turned to look Sam in the eye.
Sam knew the look on Dean’s face he was going to object the was going to tear
this entire evening down over a bit of money. What did money matter compared to
this? This was the first time in his whole god damned existence where he didn't
want to quit. This was the moment he would relive over and over again, until it
became his definition of happiness.  It was penultimate second only to a night
in Dean’s bed, which if this night went the way he prayed would happen.  
He could see Dean practically biting his tongue to keep himself silent.
Sam could wait, he picked up one of the yellow carrots from the platter and bit
into it.
Dean was simply staring at him, Sam could see the war going on behind his eyes,
but finally and blessedly he relaxed and sipped the champagne much slower
before glancing back down at the menu.
Sam was very much aware of Dean, the heat of his body next to him, their legs
pressed against each other, he watched as Dean’s eyes skimmed the menu.
“If you don’t pick something you like I will be forced to choose for you.” Sam
smiled.
Dean shot him a petulant look.
“Tell me more about yourself.” Dean commented still accessing the menu.
“There isn’t much to tell, I am a recovering addict. I don’t usually mention
that on first dates, but I figure I should clear the air here.”
Dean nodded.
“I can relate,” he cleared his throat.
“I’ve always had a hard time opening up.” He admitted.
“Especially to this side of my sexuality.”
Sam was watching him closely
“I always felt that it was something I couldn’t give in to. A desire that got
in the way from me protecting my… family.” Dean didn’t bother to clarify he
knew Sam would understand
“Then when I found myself interested in the one person i felt like I couldn't
get involved with I pushed it back even more.”
Sam didn’t know what to say.
The server returned and Sam snached Dean’s menu away
“We would like to start with an appetizer of  oysters with champagne- vinegar
mignonette, I would like  the roasted salmon with lemon saffron sauce,
provencal style vegetables and fresh herbs, he would like the Filet de Bœuf
Naturel, Glace de Viande. Medium rare.”  he finished handing the menus over to
her. He waited watching Dean, seeing how he took his little power play.
He raised a brow but said nothing.
Good they were off to a great start.
The brought the oysters fairly quickly they were served on the half shell
paired with champagne grapes whose sweet juice balanced the sharpness of the
vinegar in the mignonnette. A mignonnette was basically a sauce with shallots
red wine vinegar, pepper, chervil.
There was something sensual about eating oysters which was why Sam ordered
them. That and their whether true or not reported ability as an aphrodisiac,
not that Sam needed one. He wanted Dean painfully bad as it was.  
He watched Dean and was amused when he would immediately tell that Dean wasn’t
a fan of the oysters but didn’t want to admit it.
He chewed very carefully and swallowed the salty treat.
“That’s different.” he muttered quietly. Sam tipped back his own shell enjoying
the briny taste pared with the sweetness.  He liked the way the oyster slid
sensuously down his throat.
Dean was watching him in a way that filled him with heat.
God he wanted this night to be over as much as he was enjoying every second of
it.  He wanted Dean to an impossible degree.
 ***
Ok that was not hot. Totally not hot, the way Sam gulped down the oyster. The
champagne must be going to his head he was on his second or third glass.
Apparently Filet de Bœuf Naturel, Glace de Viande meant a center-cut filet
mignon, grilled, served over potato galettes and mousseline potatoes, garnished
with seasonal vegetables, finished with a natural sauce, and it was fucking
delicious. Sam knew about his secret deep and all abiding love of meet, the
bastard.
They closed off the partition after they ordered and it was strangely intimate
being along with Sam like this.
They ate quietly in peace, he could hear soft classical music in the background
but couldn't identify the artist.
There were moments when Dean would accidentally brush up against Sam, or Sam
hand would linger on his own. It was nice, intimate. A whole new world.  
Sam was looking at him.
Kept glancing at him over his food. He wasn’t eating as heartedly as Dean was,
nor was he drinking as much of the champagne he was simply drinking him in. If
Dean didn’t know better he would say Sam was trying to get him drunk, but it
was less of a purpose and more his focus lay elsewhere.
“What are you thinking?” Dean asked. Sam blinked and glanced away.
“You don’t want to know.” he teased. His face reddened slightly.
“What?” Dean wondered goodnaturedly.
Sam’s eyes flicked back towards him bordering on a decision.
“I was just thinking about dropping to my knees underneath this fancy table in
the middle of this expensive restaurant and sucking your cock.”  
Dean was grateful that he hadn’t chosen that particular moment to take a sip of
champagne because then he truly would have choked.
Sam watched Dean’s eyes. First surprise, that dominated his expression , the
second was pure lust.
Dean’s focus shifted, the small space felt even smaller. Up until this point he
had been uncomfortable with the idea of touching Sam sexually. As much as his
body found the idea appealing his mind had rebelled. He didn't know if it was
the romantic atmosphere or the champagne or perhaps a combination of both, but
he wasn't seeing Sam as his little foster brother, but as an excruciatingly
attractive man wanted to suck his cock.    
Sam didn’t say anything as he slowly slid down until he was underneath the
table.
This wasnt happening Dean decided. This was some weird dream. Sam wouldn’t suck
his cock in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Dean jumped banging his knee on
the underside of the table as he felt Sam’s hands rest on his thighs.
He heard Sam chuckle beneath the table.
The white table cloth obscured him he couldn't see anything unless he moved the
cloth.
Sam wasn’t exactly comfortable beneath the table, he was a little too tall to
be trying this, but the idea appealed to him. Sam considered himself flexible
sexually, in more ways than one. He was aroused by being in control or being
controlled, he wasn’t sure which was happening in the moment, but he was plenty
aroused.
Dean was already hard the moment he put his hands on his inner thigh his palms
framing his crotch he started to grow hard.
“Sam, don’t” he said tensely.
Sam paused. Disheartened, Dean didn’t want him, still with all of this he
couldn't forget their past together.  
Dean could feel the warmth of Sam hands very near to where he wanted them. He
was achingly hard. This morning's release forgotten by a suddenly overwhelming
need. Sam felt different, than Cas, he hadn’t really been with someone this
back to back to really notice that his very presence felt different.
Was that ok? Should he compare the two of them? Was that wrong of him? He
didn’t know. He felt like he should tell Sam about what he and Cas did but he
wasn’t when would be a good time and this was definitely not it.  
“Do you really want me to stop because you don't like it or because you think
of me as your brother?” he asked.
“What? Dean hissed. “I want you to stop because I don't want to get ejected
from a expensive restaurant.”
Sam blinked surprised.
“What?” he asked
“Could you come up here for this conversation?” Dean asked annoyed.
Sam slid back and ungracefully as he could back into his seat. Only hitting his
head once in the process.
“What are you saying?” Sam asked.
Dean’s face was slightly red he wouldn't meet Sam’s eyes.
“Iwannahavesexwithyou.” he muttered beneath his breath to the point Sam wasn’t
sure what he said.
“What?”
“I wanna have sex with you.” he blurted slightly louder.
“Or at least try it out,” He added quietly, looking sheepish.
Dean waited for Sam to respond. He was watching him. Dean didn’t know if he
could do this for sure. He had a lot of issues wrapped around his bisexuality,
and an entirely different set of issues in connection with Sam, but he wanted
to try. Wanted to kiss him and touch him and see where the night took them.
Sam stood. Swiftly and pulled back the curtain. “Check please!” he called out
to the nearest passerby. He was being rude but he didn’t give a fuck he was
going to have sex with Dean. At long fucking last.
Sam turned back slamming the curtain shut. He slid across the seat towards
Dean.
Dean licked his lips as Sam placed his hand on the side of his face pulling him
into a kiss. Their tongues sliding sensuously against each other, Dean moaned
nipping Sam’s lip.
Fuck yeah!
Sam pressed the heel of his palm into the fly of Dean’s pants rubbing circles
across the ridge of his erection .
“Jesus.” he hissed.
Dean was surprised when Sam dropped underneath the table again. Before he could
say anything he carefully, unzipped his slacks.
Sam pulled Dean’s cock out of his black silk boxers, rolling him between his
palms. Dean hissed above him.
“Give me your glass.” Sam told him. Swamped with lust Dean agreed. Handing him
the partially full glass of champagne.    
Sam took a quick sip before sliding his lips over the head of Dean’s cock.
“Fuuucking shit.” Dean ground out. The bubbles and the chill of the champagne
quickly vanished as Sam swallowed the liquid leaving only the intense heat of
his mouth.
Sam swirled his tongue around the head of Dean’s shaft. This was really
happening, he could feel Dean pushing back slightly his cock sliding in and out
between his lips, as Sam bobbed his head. The table didn’t give him much space
if he went too fast he would hit his head on the underside of the table so he
kept his pace slow. He didn’t want to make him cum not yet not here. This was
just the preview.
Dean felt like his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head with
pleasure. The rush, this was a public place they shouldn't be doing this here
added an element of taboo.  
Sam pulled away too soon. His lips reddened because of his cock.
This was almost too much. It was a rush of feelings and emotions, he didn't
understand, on top of mountains of lust.
Dean brought Sam in for a kiss, when the waitress returned with the check she
politely looked away as she set down the check in front of Sam.
 Dean leapt up and hurried to the bathroom.
Even the restroom in the joint was fancy. The room smelled clean. It was
strangely quiet, he could do this. He insisted to himself. He could go home
with Sam, see where things went no pressure. It would be fine.
Dean left the restroom and ran smack into his boss, Mr. Adler.
Sam happily forked over four hundred dollars with the generous tip and went in
search of Dean.
Dean was surprised by suddenly running into the slightly older man.
“Deeean.” He insisted with a grin.
Grasping his hand for a quick shake.
“Am I paying you enough that you can take a date here?” he asked jovially
“Actually.” Dean began floundering
“Pshaa who am I kidding of course I do? If I didn't you would have been poached
away a long time ago. ”  
Dean chuckled awkwardly. He was glancing around for Sam he didn’t see him he
was hoping that Mr. Adler would be gone by the time he showed up.
“And is that?” Mr. Adler began and Dean’s heart fell.
“It is your brother Sam.”  Dean had spoken to Mr. Adler about Sam when he got
Sam the job in IT.
Sam walked up slowly as he Saw Dean and Mr. Adler speaking near the entrance.
He was laughing and clapping Dean on the back.
“You’re a good brother Dean, but next time take a date to a classy joint like
this not your brother.”
Dean chuckled weakly
Sam felt oddly betrayed. He didn’t know what he’d expected, just moments ago
Dean had been ready to have sex with him and now here he was back to the start
where they were awkwardly pretending that he was straight and not interested in
him.
Sam stepped forward and tried to grab Dean’s hand to clear up any confusion as
to why they were there, but Dean subtly pulled away.
Mr. Adler leaned in placing a convivial hand on Dean’s shoulder
“I actually need to talk to you about your possible promotion, would you two
gentlemen mind joining me at the bar while I wait on the wife.”
“Actually, we were just on…”Sam begun but Dean cut him off.
“That sounds like a great plan huh Sammy?” Dean asked pleading with his eyes.
Fuck that Sam was desperate for Dean but even he had some self esteem.
“Uh I’m actually gonna head on home.” he said quietly.  
The look on Dean’s face told him all he needed to know. Maybe his dick changed
his mind for him a moment ago but he still wasn’t ok dating men in public and
he definitely wasn't ok dating him.  
“I’m gonna stay a while, Catch up with you later, tonight maybe?”
Sam caught the implication could Dean come by and maybe try fucking him then?
“Yeah sure.” Sam murmured because he didn't have that much self esteem.
***
Cas took a deep breath as he walked into Malik’s bar. It was a hole in the wall
place that smelled like stale beer and weed. The lighting was dim to hide the
mismatched stained furniture. Technically he didn’t own the bar itself, but
that didn’t stop him from acting like he owned the place. He controlled who
came in and who went out. The back room was the seedy headquarters to his
entire drug operation which was why the bar wasn’t in his name.  Cas walked in,
no one tried to stop him or take his ID, most of the people still recognized
him from his running days, and if Malik did have Kemp then everyone would be
waiting for him.
There was a pit of fear in his stomach. There was no way that this would get
well for him, but he couldn't walk away.
Cas summoned all of his bravado as he sauntered up to the bartender.
“Malik here?” he asked leaning his elbow against  the bar angling his body so
that he was closer to the other man. He was aiming for nonchalant he felt like
he simply succeeded with abrupt.
“In the back.”  the man said simply.
The back was the real heart of the business. It looked like a professional
chef’s kitchen, the floor was clean enough to eat off of however it wasn’t food
that they were cooking.
“Malik?” Cas called out hesitantly
“Back here.”  he beckoned
Cas followed the sound of his voice through the maze of equipment and shelving
filled with chemicals.
Cas rounded the corner to see. Malik sitting at a metal foldout table. Kemp was
sitting next to him, a nasty bruise across one cheek, starting at their jaw
going nearly all the way across their face. Their eyes were red, they were
shaking.
Malik grabbed them by their chin shaking their jaw. Kemp whimpered slightly in
pain. Malik’s own face was bruised his nose had clearly been broken it looked
crooked.  
“Your friend here wasn’t very helpful”  Malik muttered he was playing with a
knife. Rotating the blade in one hand. Malik wasn’t a murderer but he would
fuck someone up. It came with the territory, but this was something different.
Cas looked down at the table a small mirror filled with white powder lay at the
head of the table.
Coke. great not only was Malik a dick he was a coked up dick.
“Let Kemp go.” Cas ordered.
Malik’s face hardened.
He lurched to his feet sending his chair flying behind him.
“You are not in a position to dictate anything.” he shouted his voice grating.
Cas didn’t move, he tracked his agitated movements with his eyes, as Malik
paced back and forth a bit.
“You know this wasn’t supposed to go like this.” he insisted sniffing slightly.
His eyes wide and bloodshot.
“I figured you’d rather fuck me that a bunch of johns, and then you’d get the
message.”
He advanced on him holding the knife towards his chin.
“You sure as fuck weren’t supposed to go home with one of them.”
He yelled turning away again.
He was pacing back and forth in front of the table.
“I figured at some point if you ever got off his cock you’d come looking for
you little friend.”  
He laughed manically.
“I guess I was right.”
“Baby….” Cas cooed  trying to soothe him.
“Don’t you baby me.”  he insisted gesturing with the knife.
“Your lucky I wanna fuck you, you’re fucking worthless you know that.” he spat
out directly in his face. His breath rushing over him. He’d been drinking as
well.
“Fucking worthless, sloppy hole, that is going to beg me for it after this is
done.”
Cas could feel the revulsion creep over his skin. The sad thing was not long
ago this was what got him close to turned on. He didn't really get off on
humiliation, but he didn’t know anything else.
“Cas I’m sorry.” Kemp muttered.
“You shut the fuck up.” Malik insisted shoving them to the floor out of their
chair.
Kemp hit the ground hard with a grunt.
“Mal, stop.” Cas called out.
Malik whirled on him. His eyes wide. Even his own men backed up slightly.
“Get the fuck out.” he shouted at them.
Slowly they slunk away.
“Now where was I?” he asked turning back to Cas.
A nasty smile slid across his face.
“Right, I was telling you have much you were gonna beg for it. I’m gonna fuck
you so hard, I’ll split you in two.”
Cas shuddered trying to keep his revulsion off his face. He’d do it. He’d let
Malik fuck him, if it make them even, if he would let Kemp go.
“You know I missed you baby.” he insisted the words burning his tongue on such
an acerbic lie.  
“Couse you did you little cockslut, I bet none of the guys who fucked you after
you left me were a big as me.” he stepped forward jerking Cas forward nearly
off his feet by the nape of his neck for a kiss. His mouth was too heavy on his
own. The kiss wasn't finess it was violence and dominating.
He pulled his hair as he ground Cas into his body. His erection pressing
against his stomach.
Cas was starting to pull back, but it was happening too fast.
“Can I have a bump?” Cas asked.  Indicating the cocaine. He could let Malik
fuck him, but he couldn't do it sober.
Malik grinned, he grabbed the small spoon set beside the mirror. Cas snorted
the small bit of cocaine.  
The rush feeling goes straight to his brain. He’d tried coke before, but he’d
decided then and there that for him at least it was a deadly combination the
euphoria was great but the lows were very low.
Malik pulled him back into a kiss. Jerking him up, Cas wrapped his legs around
him. As Malik walked forwards until Cas’s back was pressed into the wall. Malik
was touching him, Cas was starting to fade out withdrawing into himself and
from the cocaine.
He could feel Malik’s erection against his stomach, but it was far away.
“I’m gonna make you like it.” he growled, ripping off his pants. Roughly
grabbing his penis
“You can’t fade out on me.” he insisted. jerking him painfully. His body
responded to the manual stimulation which only served to further push his mind
to the outer recesses.
He could do this. He could do this.
“Why are you fucking crying?” he demanded. Cas hadn’t even realized that tears
were slowly streaming down his face.
“I’ll give you something to cry about.” he shouted. Jerking his arm behind his
back spinning him so that his chest was pressed up against the wall. The pain
in his twisted arm growing more and more intense. He heard Malik, unzip his
pants.
Cas snapped out of his tunnel long enough murmur one word.
“Condom.”
“Fuck that.” Malik argued. “You are not in charge here.”
Alarm bells started sounding in his head. He could fuck Malik, but not without
a condom.
“No.” He demanded. Trying to wiggle away as the fear begun to mount.
“Nooo!” he shouted again, dropping all his weight forcing Malik to try to lift
him.
He pressed his forward quickly hitting his head against the wall. Bright white
life flashed before his eyes followed by dull sickeningly sharp pain and
nausea.
Waves of dizziness crashed over him.
And yet he could still feel Malik fumbling behind him.
“No, no, no, no, no,” the litany of words fell from him. He couldn’t do this.
What a terrible time to realise that he was in charge of his sexuality that he
couldn’t let someone else control it.
“Stop squirming.” he ground out.still pinning on arm behind his back.
Cas went wild he jerked his head back trying to dislodge Malik from behind him.
His arm ached and he wrenched his arm free.
His head hit the other man’s nose sending him stumbling backwards. Cas yanked
up his pants his hands shaking. He was in charge, and he wasn’t going to let
anyone else violate his bodily autonomy.
He slipped the blade out of his pants, a soft click brought the blade forward.
Malik laughed,
“You’re not going to stab me you don’t have it in you.”
Cas was shuddering his entire body shaking he was hyperventilating but he would
do it. If Malik took one step closer he was going to stab him.  
Malik lurched forward trying to grab him. Cas slashed at him, the tip of the
blade dug into his arm. The switch blade wasn’t exactly a slashing blade. Blood
dripped down the blade.
Malik yelled rushing him he slammed him back against the wall so hard it felt
like he got whiplash from the speed at which his head hit and bounced off the
back of the wall. He dropped the knife, falling to his knees.
“You little bitch.” he growled, before kneeing him viciously in the gut, he
fell to the side,
Cas’s head hurt he feebly tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but he
couldn’t. He was floating on the pain as he begun to spin. He felt a sharp pain
erupt across his ribs. Another just below his stomach as Malik hurled another
kick his way, his clavicle and his arm as he tried to block the shots. More and
more each kick more savage than the next. He dropped to his knees punching him,
about the head and shoulders, Cas was able to curl his arm over his face
lessening the impact.
He was swimming on the edge of blackness. He was cold. This was shock he was in
shock.
“Fuck…” he heard Malik swear.
“Fuck!” he shouted again.
“Get in here!”
He could see Malik his fist were covered in blood, maybe his blood?
It was a blur after that. There was someone carrying him he could feel their
shoulder digging painfully into his already aching gut. Then there was a car.
The ceiling was beige and smelled like cigarettes. His face was pressed into
the rough leather of the backseat. they drove for what felt like a long time,
but he couldn't be sure since he kept losing conscious. The light from the
street lamps kept shining in his face.  
He felt the car slow down, and rough hands push him out, his head narrowly
avoided hitting the curb. He was glad that he stopped moving, now he could just
lay absolutely still and hope the pain would lessen. He knew he should find
help, he knew he needed help, but he couldn't force any of his limbs to respond
as he feebly tried to get them to support his weight. He fell back down.
He was laying on his back, staring up at the black sky, the stars twinkling. It
was fucking beautiful. He wished Dean could see this.
He didn’t want to die. He hoped he wasn’t dying. Maybe if he lay here just a
bit longer he would be ok.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm sorry that this chapter took so long it was difficult to write
     for me in a lot of ways one being Sam's voice which I think I am
     getting better at and secondly the violence towards the end. I will
     try to get another chapter posted soon but if I can't do it before
     the middle of September I wont be able to post till mid October. I
     have a lot on my plate right now.
***** Suffering is one very long moment *****
Chapter Notes
     Trigger warning hospitals
     Sorry I'm not a doctor I tried my best to research but without a
     background in medical I cant promise that everything is accurate.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
This was inane, Dean faked smiling while Mr. Adler kept talking about
percentages and customer loyalty he wasn’t actually listening he was thinking
how royally he fucked things up with Sam.
His gut reaction, had been to pull back, to hide in his routine. When he ran
into Mr. Adler he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. All the air had
rushed out of his body and he’d been scared. It was stupid he knew that
rationally. He’d berated himself a thousand times over in the twenty minuets
that he had said talking to his fucking blowhard of a boss.  He couldn’t even
identify what scared him. It been purely visceral, he saw the look of pain on
Sam’s face, but he hadn’t been able to slow the racing of his own heart enough
to let his logic overcome his first instinct.
Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.
“How about it Dean?” Mr. Adler asked that phoney smile he always sported on his
face.
“W-what?” Dean managed to stutter.
Mr Adler pulled himself back in mock affront
“The great Dean Smith stunned into silence.” he taunted.
Dean smiled again unsurely. what the hell was he talking about?
Adler rolled his eyes.
“You just want to hear me say it again.” he groused pleasantly  he reached
across the bar and grabbed a small napkin, and begun writing on it.
“Now it’s not actually open for another six months. Bilson is retiring.” Dean’s
mind leapt ahead Bilson was his direct supervisor.
“But if you're interested and you work hard. I see dollar signs in your
future.”
He slid the paper over but Dean kept his eyes trained on his boss.
“You’re serious? VP of Sales?”
Mr Adler put his finger to his lips.
“Shhh it's all hush hush right now, Bilson thinks we’re letting him stay on
past retirement age. I only have a few more years till they put me out to
pasture as well amiright” he said laughing elbowing Dean in the ribs slightly.
Dean smiled awkwardly and Mr Adler sobered. Reaching across the bar to the
nearest white square bar napkin. He pulled a pen from his pocket clicking it.
He wrote quickly before sliding the paper over towards him.
“How's that for a bonus? To hold you over in the meantime.” Mr Adler prompted.
Dean glanced down at the paper.
20,000
“That's very generous.”
Dean murmured quietly stunned into silence.
Mr. Adler leaned in.
“Add that to want your already making and that will be your starting salary.”
That was little under 120k
“That’s very generous” Dean reiterated. Why did he feel like shit?
“Purely selfish” Adler assured congenially. “Wanna make sure you're not going
anywhere.”
“Wow. Are you sure?” he found himself asking besides himself confidence was the
key at his job, but he wasn’t feeling it at the moment.
“Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own
way.”
“Well, thanks. I try.”
“I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes
Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week,
lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you”
Dean somehow felt like the offer was a prison sentence versus an opportunity.
This was his career this was what he had set up his life to do, and yet, he was
already miserable the thought of the next eight to ten years a copy of the last
four was depressing.
Still he found himself smiling regardless.
“It's a helluva opportunity... sir.” He added quickly.
“That it is, I know you won't let us down son.”
Something about Mr. Adler calling him son made his skin crawl. Sure he had
daddy issues a mile wide not that he was willing to delve into them right now
or anytime in the immediate future, but that was crossing a line, this was
bussiness.
“Looks like I’ve kept you long enough.” Mr Adler murmured calmly.
He stood and glanced towards the door. Where a middled aged woman with blonde
hair stood. Presumably his wife.
“You have a good night Dean.” Mr. Adler called back waving politely.
Dean bit back the comment that he would have had a good night if not for seeing
him here. It wasn’t his fault that he fucked up. That blame lay solely at his
own feet. He ordered a double whiskey neat, tossed the drink back quickly.  It
burned his throat. There was an ache in his chest that had nothing to with his
physical being. He’d made the wrong call. He knew it, but that couldn't undo
it.  He held the shot glass sliding it slowly in a circle the glass rim of the
bottom moving slowly across the polished surface of the bar. A tiny bit of
whiskey colored the bottom of the glass. He watched the droplet roll around the
glass surface. He was debating on ordering another. He’d asked Sam if he could
stop by later, but he didn’t he’d have the heart for it. Honestly he wasn’t
sure if he could face him like this.  He felt pathetic. It was a brutal
reminder that Sam deserved better than him. All the reasons he fought against
this came flooding back, none of them were a lack of desire on his part. He
cared about Sam, he didn’t have a word for those feelings, he wasn’t even sure
that he could put words to his emotions, they felt so unprocessed, every time
he tried to examine them further he stopped, because he knew he couldn't be
what Sam deserved.  
He was profoundly fucked up.  Sam deserved someone who could help put his own
broken pieces back together not someone who was just as damaged. Sam needed
someone who could be his rock. Someone he could lean on. Dean didn’t know if he
could be that, for anyone. He was second guessing this entire thing. He wanted
to help Cas, but what if he fucked things up with him just as badly? Cas was
perhaps even more fragile.
Dean slammed the shot glass back on the counter breaking as if to punctuate the
train of his thoughts.
“Can I get another down here?” he asked his voice coming out harsher than he
intended.
He cleared his throat. As the bartender eyed him.
“Do you wanna start a tab?” he asked hesitantly gently setting the shot down
before him.
Briefly Dean considered it. He wasn’t proud of it, but the thought of drinking
himself into a stupor and calling a cab to take him home appealed to him.
“Nnno.” he finally answered waveringly.
He needed to talk to Sam. he needed to do damage control. As much as he hated
talking about his feelings he couldn’t just push Sam out either.  He stood
swiftly.
Dean walked out of the restaurant. It had gotten much colder from the time he
entered.
It was sprinkling. Not enough to call a full rain, but he could feel drops of
water hitting his face carried by the wind. He ducked his head and popped the
back of his collar, he wanted to walk for a bit to clear his head, he’d signal
a cab or call an uber. He just needed time. He needed a moment to compose his
thoughts into some semblance of order before he talked to Sam.
***  
Kemp had watched when Malik and his goons drug Cas out of the room. He looked
pretty bad. Their heart was beating out of control. They were scared shitless.
Their arm was numb that shit couldn't possibly be normal. They’d just sat
there. Shame washed over them. Malik had knocked them to the floor all their
weight falling on the now tingling arm. It was probably broken. Sure fucking
felt broken. They’s just been so scared old instincts kicked in. If it wasn't
their problem stay out of it stay alive.   Shit they were they going to kill
Cas, why else would they drag Cas off? Kemp wasn’t sure what to do. If Malik
was gonna finish Cas off they knew they should do something, but that asshole
fucked them up just for not telling him where Cas was staying, and Kemp didn’t
even fucking know. They’d met Cas at the Boba place, they’d never even seen his
new digs.
Cas had stuck his neck out for him. They’d never really had a friend willing to
do that before. Fuck Cas was the first friend willing to accept them, as who
they were. Their own parents couldn't even manage that.
They took a deep breath.  Cas’s cell phone was on the floor…  Against all their
instincts nervously they crawled painfully across the floor. Snatching the
phone from where it lay. Fingers trembling they skimmed through the contacts
the click of the rigid plastic buttons sounding like cannon shots in the still
room. What the fuck was the guy's name?  It was pretty basic that was all he
remembered. The most recent contact added.
***
He was wallowing. Sam would admit it. Sitting in the dark with your darker
thoughts might be cliche but it felt very appropriate. He was sitting on his
sofa in the living room his legs splayed elbows resting on them as he leaned
forward examining a worn spot on his coffee table as if it held all the
answers. He wasn’t drinking. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He just wanted
to be sober on the off chance that Dean actually showed up later.Pathetic as it
was. He hadn’t changed clothes, all he’d done was take off the tie,it was
sitting on the table in front of him, and loosened his shirt. He’d  been
thinking about the date. Running everything over and over in his head, reveling
in the bad as much as the good, and he’d realized that Dean never said that he
was ready to take their relationship public. So technically he didn’t lie, he’d
never said anything. Sam just assumed because he was ready to be physical with
him. That didn’t help him any, just gave him some perspective for his over
analysis. He always jumped ahead when it came to Dean. he always tried to push
things further than they were.
Dean might want him, but that didn’t equate to love. Sam knew that plenty. How
many nights had he gone out looking just to lose himself with another person to
briefly forget about Dean. Still didn't change how he felt. Cheated… betrayed.
Dean had stood beside him nearly his entire life. Stood up with him and for him
to just… just what Sam? he chided himself shaking his head a wry smile on his
face. He was fucking ridiculous.   What did he do exactly that you didn't
expect of him?
Dean wasn’t out of the closet just because he was dating guys.  You couldn't
force someone out of the closet, just because you wanted them to be out. That
was one of the first rules.
Dean had said as much when they started this. No telling anyone.
At the time it hadn’t mattered, but mostly because Sam hadn't really considered
what it meant. Sam wasn’t sure he could do it.
It was that realization that had him here moping in the dark. That after all
this time and all the years he pined over the man there was still one thing he
couldn't live with.
He couldn't be someone's dirty little secret.
His phone began to ring.
It was Cas.
Sam checked his watch it was later than he realized after twelve.
Must be checking in. Sam mused. He probably called Dean first, who likely
didn’t answer if he was still with Mr. Adler.
For a fraction of a second Sam didn’t want to answer it.
He did not hold any of what happened tonight towards Cas, it wasn’t remotely
connected to him, but he didn't want to talk to him right at that moment
either.
Still, it was late it might be important.
“Hello” the voice on the other end called out. It wasn’t until that moment that
Kemp realized that they couldn’t really talk without drawing attention to
themselves.  
“Cas is in trouble.” they whispered
“What?” the voice asked.
Shit Kemp thought glancing nervously around the room, breathing heavily. There
had to be a way out of here.
Sam could barely hear what the voice on the other end said, but the words had
been crystal clear.
Cas is in trouble.
 That let him instantly know two things. Whoever was on the line wasn’t Cas and
Cas needed help.
Kemp stood carefully tucking their arm into their body. It was hurting.
“They beat the shit out of him.” Kemp whispered into the phone as they spied
the side exit over the top of the aluminum shelving.
They rushed towards it.
As they hit the metal bar opening the door, the fire alarm went off. They took
off at a sprint dropping the phone.
Sam heard the blare of alarms and the clatter whoever held the phone had just
dropped it.  
***
Cas was moving again. It was too bright. Waves of nausea washed over him the
lights like hatchets to the head. There were people. All around him.He was flat
on his back but whatever he was lying on was moving.  The people were moving
talking around him, but their words weren't making sense, his ears were
ringing. His chest ached. He could barely catch his breath even though he was
gasping, breathing quickly. Every wrenching gasp rattled in his chest radiating
pain.
A blurred face floated above him, a crown of darkness surrounding her brown
face. He was having trouble focusing his eyes. Her hair? She was speaking to
him.
“What happened?”
“Attacked…” he murmured losing his focus. The words felt thick, hard to hold on
to.
She continued talking. Asking him something?
He knew the answer. He was certain of it, but it was like trying to hold on to
water. The harder he grasped for it the more it ran through him fingers.
“Do you have a history of seizures?”  they repeated.
“No.”
He replied only to be punished by painful jagged coughs.
She was pressing the stethoscope to his chest. Listening to his breathing.
She turned towards the others and barked an order.
His eyes felt heavy.
“Were you drinking or taking any drugs?”
“Nooo.” he replied shaking his head rewarded by intense pain.
“Yes.” he amended remembering, but he couldn’t remember the word for it.
“White.” he replied.
Her eyes were drawn together focused as she tried to interpret his meaning.
“Was it a pill, or a powder?” she asked
“Powder.”
 He responded.
“Cocaine?” she asked.
He nodded again.
“Do you know your name?” she asked him still assessing him, they were still
moving. She was moving with him running along side a gurney he realized
He knew the answer to that as well.
“Jimmy.” he replied.
“Jimmy?” she asked confused.
“Not Jimmy… Cas.”
“Cas Collins.” he mumbled.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital.” he muttered, he was floating again. He could see the edges of the
blackness creep back up.
***
Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, but his skin felt cool to the
touch from the rain and the chill had sunken into his bones. It had stopped
raining, but that didn’t really warm him up any. His legs were starting to feel
fatigued. So he must have been walking for a while. He was wishing that he had
taken that bartender up on the tab idea after all. That was how he dealt with
his feelings right? Bottled them up until they came out in spurts of binge
drinking and violence. It had been a long time coming. The last time he had any
release was when Lisa left.
Maybe it was indicative of something that now he felt even more wrecked, but he
wasn't losing Sam. Not over one fight...right? They’d been through so much
together.
There was water in his shoes. He could feel it every step he took. Soggy socks.
Not that Sam was really his to begin with. He still didn’t know how he felt
about him. It was this tangled mass in his chest, he couldn't untangle it
without risking his entire world unraveling.
Everyone knew Sam as his brother, he didn’t know how to reconcile that to how
he felt.
He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.
     Sam was calling him. Dean’s first thought was relief. Sam was the one who
was initiating  the talking. Talking had never been his strong suit even when
he knew it had to be done. He’d been trying to think about what he wanted to
say to him, but he was still at a loss. Objectively he knew his reaction had
not been fair, but he wasn't sure if presented with another opportunity he
wouldn’t repeat his mistakes. All of this was just so new to him. So very
different from the way his life had been going. More than the being with men,
just opening up to another human being. It was time, but it felt impossible.
“Hello.” he answered resolutely.  
“Cas is in trouble.” Sam informed him quickly.
Dean felt his heart lurch in his chest.
“What happened?”
***
It was a little after one thirty when they found him, he was in surgery. Dean
tapped his foot agitated. The staccato was jarringly loud in the  empty room.
 They were in the ICU waiting room. It was smaller than a regular hospital
waiting room only about seven chairs framed the walls of the room. A little
coffee table sat in the middle piled high with old magazines. There were two
doors. The one to the right was the door they came through that led back to the
labyrinth of identical halls that made up the hospital and the one to the left
led into the ICU.   Not that he’d spent too much time in one recently, but he’d
seen enough of  hospitals to know that they were never comfortable. This room
was no exception. The chairs were stiff. The teal upholstery was this strange
plastic like composition. The fluorescent light overhead was giving him a
headache. He ran his hands through his hair again for what felt like the
billionth time. They were waiting on his doctor.
A nurse had shown them to this waiting room. His face passive, expressionless.
Purposefully neutral.
Dean was leaning his elbows on his splayed legs his head in his hands. He heard
a door open. He jerked his head up anxiously, but it was just Sam returning. He
held two cups of steaming coffee one in each hand. He carefully maneuvered the
door closed with his foot. A wan smile crossed his face.
“Any news?” he asked his eyes hopeful.
“Do you think I'd still look like this if I'd heard anything?” he snapped
irritably. Crossing his arms across his chest.
Sam didn’t flinch, he knew Dean knew that his agitation was just a symptom of
his guilt.
Dean always felt guilty.   
Sam’s heart felt like it was in a vice. Squeezed tight,  Dean looked like shit.
When he picked him up, his suit jacket had been soaked through. He’d shed his
jacket in Sam’s car, but he continued to shiver silently for the next half
hour, stubbornly. Sam pulled a shirt out of his gym bag the grey V neck looked
strange paired with Dean’s slacks, but Sam’s sweats were too long for Dean.
They’d called the police, they’d been zero help, then they called the
hospitals. Sam was just thankful they hadn't had to call the morgues.
There were shadows beneath Dean’s eyes. The set of his jaw told him the extent
of his thoughts. Somehow Dean had worked it that this, Cas getting hurt was his
fault.
Sam pressed the steaming paper mug of coffee into his hand.
The bitter brew burned his tongue as he gulped it down, somehow it managed to
be both burnt and thin at the same time. Still in the moment it was
revitalizing fuel. He felt like the cup was an anchor point. That is someone
snatched it away he might fall apart.
“Thank you.” Dean murmured, cradling the cup in his hands trying to absorb the
remaining warmth.
Sam nodded sipping his own cup. As he settled into the chair next to him. He
laid a gentle comforting hand on his knee. Dean laid his over it twining their
fingers together squeezing lightly.
Sam knew it was an apology. For all of it.
They sat that way for several moments. Sam felt as if Dean was borrowing from
his strength as much as Sam borrowed from him.
It was around two when the doctor entered the room. She was an african american
woman in her mid-thirties. A crown of loose textured curls framed her face. Her
gaze was directed at her clipboard in her hand.
After a moment she glanced up at them. Dean knew he was holding his breath.
She extended her hand out congenially.
“I’m Dr. Cross”
Numbly Dean shook her hand.
“Give it to us straight Doc what happened?”
Dean asked
He watched her square her shoulders and slip masterfully into her role as
bearer of bad tidings.
“Mr.Collins is in recovery from there he will be moved to ICU for observation.”
Dean looked away, his thoughts drifting. ICU couldn’t be good.
Sam stepped forward his face pinched.
“We were told he was in surgery?” Sam continued his question implicit.
“Mr. Collins presented with several injuries indicative of assault.The most
pressing being a pneumothorax, an abnormal collection of air in the pleural
space that caused an uncoupling of the lung from the chest wall. A pneumothorax
is usually caused by an injury to the chest, such as a broken rib which was the
case with Mr. Collins and a traumatic brain injury ”
“So he has a punctured lung?” Sam asked. Dean still had his back towards the
doctor. Sam could only guess at his mood.
She nodded.
“A pulmonary specialist and I performed a tube thoracostomy, an insertion of a
tube into the pleural cavity to drain air.”
“He has brain damage?” Dean asked turning back towards the doctor.
“Brain injuries can range in scope from mild to severe.” she began clinically.
“ Moderate to severe brain injuries typically refer to injuries that have the
following characteristics.Moderate brain injury is defined as a brain injury
resulting in a loss of consciousness from 20 minutes to 6 hours.Severe brain
injury is defined as a brain injury resulting in a loss of consciousness of
greater than 6 hours.”
She glanced down at her chart.
“Mr.Collins was found unconscious a block from the hospital. There is no way of
knowing how long he was unconscious before paramedics arrived, but he was
conscious upon arriving at the hospital. He has a moderate concussion.”
“What does that mean?”
Dean asked.
“A concussion is considered a mild traumatic brain injury. In considering the
long-term effects of TBI on the individual, it is most important to emphasize
that there is no typical person with TBI. People who have experienced a TBI
vary on many dimensions, but long term symptoms can include
fatigue,headaches,visual disturbances,memory loss, poor attention or
concentration, sleep disturbances,dizziness and loss of balance,irritability,
emotional disturbances, feelings of depression,seizures, nausea,loss of
smell,sensitivity to light and sounds,mood changes,getting lost or
confused,slowness in thinking.” she spoke with her hands as she talked. Soft
sweeping gestures as she went through all the possible options.
Dean turned away again.
“You said he had several injuries indicative of assault.” Sam asked pressing
She nodded
“Most of his injuries are focused on the left side indicating he was lying on
his right. He has some internal bleeding and a bruised liver, bruising around
his clavicle, head and shoulders,  defensive ulnar shaft fractures.”
“Can we see him?” Dean asked.
He could see the hesitation on her face.“Yes, but only one at a time. We don’t
want to overwhelm him.”
Dean glanced over to Sam. His clouded expression told him everything he needed
to know.
“Go.” he told him. Giving him permission.
Dean didn’t need to be told twice.
The doctor directed him to the nurse’s station.
A nurse explained to him that Cas may not be awake, but that he could still
hear him and she encouraged him to try and talk to him.
She told him that there were many machines in the room monitoring his vitals,
some of them with alarms. In most cases the alarms were not indicative of an
emergency, but that some action needed to be done and not to be afraid of the
alarms.
Dean followed her down the narrow hallway, the room wasn't private. There were
six other beds in the room each quarantined by blue curtains, most of them were
empty.
Dean didn't immediately recognize which prone figure lying on the beg covered
in wires was Cas.
He looked pale and small, his dark hair a stark contrast to the thin white
pillow. His body dwarfed by the mass of thin tubes covering him. His eyes were
closed, but there was still plainly visible shadows under his eyes. There was a
cut along his right cheek,  and one along his hairline it was crusted dark
reddish brown with old blood, but mostly his face was clear of damage.
A cuff covered one finger attached to a machine that monitored his heart rate
Dean could hear it beeping in the background. There were two separate IV lines
running into his good right arm. One larger one he supposed was filled with
sailen the other was a small glass bottle likely with morphine, or some other
pain meds.
He’d been expecting to see a clear plastic tube over his face for oxygen, but
there was none. Simply the tube that extended out of his chest. The insertion
point was hidden behind a thick white bandage. It looked grizzly.
A painful tightness filled his chest. He felt raw. It was the only word to
describe the feeling. He was tired. Existentially exhausted to the point where
he wanted to give up. He wanted to drop to the cold marble floor of the
hospital and sob, it didn’t matter that people could see him he wanted to sink
to the floor bonelessly and just give up. Refuse to move till the outcome
changed, He had no filter to hide his feelings they were just there open on his
sleeve, for everyone to see, but no one was there to witness it.  He didn’t
fall. He stepped slowly forward.
“Cas?” he asked his voice painfully loud among the stillness of the room. He
opened his eyes slowly.
It took him several moments for Cas to see him. His eyes blinked unfocused as
he scanned the room in front of him.  
“Dean?” he croaked unsurely.
Dean didn’t realize he was holding his breath until that moment. A startled
laugh slipped from him. An absurd reaction, one born from fear. He remembered
him.
Dean stepped forward. Cas’s hand twitched as he tried to reach out towards him.
Dean scooped his cool hand into his own.
“Dean?” Cas asked again confused.
“I’m right here.” he whispered. Somehow the space felt sacred. Like it shrunk
down to just the two of them.
He released his hand for only a moment to pull the chair closer he sat holding
his hand once again.
Watching his face. Cas blinked slowly as if he was falling asleep.
“What happened?” Dean asked the question bursting forth.
Cas’s brows came together as he tried to focus.
He made a frustrated noise and turned away from him.
“My head hurts.” he murmured sullenly.
“You were attacked.” Dean told him. Leaning in so that Cas could hear him.
He nodded slightly.
“Do you remember?” Dean asked. He had a pretty good idea who did this to him.
That guy from the club. Malik?
Cas groaned restlessly shifting in the bed his hand covering his eyes.
“Are you ok?” Dean asked frantically. He felt fucking helpless, he hated it.  
“My head hurts.” he reiterated. There was a whine on the edge of his voice.
Dean reached over him and hit the button to release the pain medication,
nothing happened.
He tried again. Still nothing. He turned away from Cas.
“Hey can we get this man some pain meds over here.”  he barked.
Cas hissed at his words. Moaning softly half a sob.
The nurse stepped over. She glanced at the machine.
“He’s at his limit.” she replied. “After a few hours he will be able to have
more.”
Dean sunk back into the chair. At a loss. There really was nothing he could do
to help him.  
He felt so frustrated, and useless.
“I’m tired.” he mutted.
Dean’s heart felt crushed.
“Why don't I let you sleep.” Dean murmured.  
He nodded softly. His eyes almost instantly drifting closed.
Dean walked slowly back to the waiting room.Staring at the floor as he went.
The beige tile was broken up by black squares of tile. Cas was just recovering
that was all. He was on a lot of drugs. He’d be fine. He insisted to himself.
He glanced up when he entered the room Sam’s eyes immediately sought his. He
wanted to know how he was doing...
“He’s sleeping.”
“Do you…”
Sam didn’t get to finish his train of thought.
“Take me home.” Dean ordered.
“Ok.” Sam agreed.
They drove back to Dean’s apartment in silence. Sam fought his curiosity. He
wanted to asked Dean what he saw. How Cas was doing? If Dean was ok?
Sam pulled into the parking slot at a quarter to three.
“Want me to come up?” he asked hopefully.
Not for sex. He knew the timing wasn't right, but he wanted to comfort Dean. He
could see a war going through him like he’d never seen. There was anger there,
barely contained beneath a tense surface.
“No.” he replied his voice grim.
“I’m not staying.” he said brusquely.
Before Sam could ask what he meant he climbed out of the car.
“Thanks for the ride.” he tossed back over his shoulder.
Sam didn’t accept that as an answer.
He pushed out of the car and caught up to Dean as he entered the lobby.
“What are you talking about?” he asked lowering his voice as the night guard
glanced towards them
“What are you going to do?”  
Dean’s eyes were cold. The rage he saw in them was startling.
He didn’t respond he didn’t have to.
He thought he knew who did this and he was going to go after them.
They climbed into the elevator. Dean jabbed the button for his floor.
“What are you going to do?” Sam demanded, again.
Dean didn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m gonna finish what I started.”  he growled  through clenched teeth.  
“You can’t do this.” Sam insisted pressing Dean against the wall over the
elevator forcing him to look him in the eye.
Dean shoved him off with his shoulder. Pushing past the now open elevator door.
“Watch me.”
Chapter End Notes
     sorry it took so long to get this chapter done hopefully it was worth
     it. I am plaining on having 17 chapters. then I will likely create a
     new story with the same character a few months later.
     I also added an ongoing story with flashbacks to the characters past
     if anyone is interested
***** To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.
*****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING depictions of violence, guilt, hospitals, sexual
     situations.
     Please comment let me know what you want or what you think of the
     story.
     Update:11/14/16
     I've got a BAD case of writer's block for the next chapter I'm sorry
     it's taking me a while would love feedback
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Fighting is painful. In more ways than one. It isn’t just getting hit. Although
the physicality of  striking someone with all the power your body possess hurts
you as well. It's the emotions behind it. Rage, pain, loss, hurt, all blurred
together till there are no lines between.  It's fast. Too fast to stop and
think, too fast to absorb the impact of the emotions it brings to the surface.
Because the longer the fight, the more injuries are sustained, by both parties.
 
Still, it lasts forever. The physical wounds will heal. It might take weeks,
months or even years, but you will be whole.
Emotionally is another story.
Once you throw that first punch things will never be the same.
Dean limped up the stairs. The sound of his dress shoes making strange clicking
echoes on the floor.He didn't feel like taking the elevator. He deserved any
discomfort he felt. He lurched down the hall towards his apartment, his
surroundings were so bright. The hall security lights were always on no matter
the time of night. They were making his eyes sting.
Sam was waiting for him.
He was sitting on the sofa. In the dark. He turned towards  him as Dean opened
the door. The shaft of light from the hallway illuminating his face.
If his hand wasn’t broken before it was now.
Dean stayed frozen in the threshold, by Sam’s gaze. He stood a little
straighter under his scrutiny. His jaw and neck aching.
Sam examined him for moment. Taking in the ripped bloody grey shirt. Split lip,
bruised and swollen knuckles.
“You should see the other guy.” he taunted half heartedly as he stepped inside
closing the door surrounding them in darkness once more. Trying to break some
of the thick tension.
“Can he walk?” Sam asked quietly he seemed distant. Pale moonlight lit his
face. Dean wasn’t sure what to think of his melancholy.
Dean sighed crossing into the room tossing his keys on the counter. He had to
work today…he glanced at the clock over the microwave a little after five, in a
few hours actually.
“Yeah.”  he said releasing a ragged breath he’d been holding. He’d hoped that
by now Sam would understand that he had to do it or he would have some way to
explain it to him. Neither seemed true.
He didn't know if he could handle Sam’s judgement right now.
“Is he going to sue?” Sam wondered, his expression still disturbingly neutral.
Dean shook his head softly.
“No.”
“Do you feel better?”
He asked.
Dean limped around the sofa towards Sam, Sam tracking his progress assessing
with his eyes.
Dean sank down to the sofa next to Sam.
“No.” he admitted honestly.
He felt worse.
It was more than his physical aches. The ache in his heart had not subsided. It
only panged in time with the throbbing of his knuckles.
“Was it worth it?” Sam wondered his expression impassive his voice unreadable.
Dean couldn't tell if there was judgement there or if he was trying to
understand him. He was still trying to understand it himself. Dean chuckled
darkly licking his lips tasting the coppery tang of dried blood. The rage he’d
felt. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. It burned him. Left
him feeling wretched and used up like a wild fire across what he used to be.
He’d crossed a line tonight. One that he wasn't sure he could ever come back
from.
Dean looked like shit. Guilt and shame marred his expression. Sam soaked up his
warmth as he sat next to him. He was home safe. He knew that he could relax
now, but he wasn't so sure.
 It wasn't that he didn't feel the same. Maybe he didn't know Cas as well as
Dean did, but he’d been on the other end of abuse before with his father. He
knew the toll it took on someone. He also knew how helpless it felt to watch
someone you care about be abused, he’d seen Dean kicked around by Kubrick his
whole childhood, and yet this was different.
Dean wasn’t protecting anyone. He’d gone for revenge.
Dean groped blindly for Sam’s hand in the darkness, Sam took it. So he supposed
that was a good sign.
“Yes.” Dean admitted. Cas would always be worth it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked.
His words a perfect echo of Cas.
“No.” he replied. Still staring straight ahead. Maybe he could just put this
night behind him. Wash it all away.
“I’m gonna take a shower.” he muttered needed to be alone.
“Do you want me to…?” Sam asked.
Dean thought was it only this morning? The day before?
“No.” Dean insisted a bit more harshly than he intended.
It wasn’t Sam’s fault that Cas got hurt. He didn't need to take out his angst
on him.
“No” he repeated more softly dropping his eyes to his feet.
“I’ll see you when I get out.” he muttered.
Sam watched Dean limp towards the bathroom.
Wanting to follow him. He wanted to follow him tonight,but someone needed to be
here when he got home to help him pick up the pieces.
His whole adult life Dean had struggled with the results of his childhood.
Anger plagued him. He’d been an angry teen, he’d picked fights more in his last
year of high school after leaving Kubrick than his entire life. Maybe his
grades didn’t suffer, but  he’d been hurt and angry and took it out on anyone
dumb enough to cross his path. Till he actually hurt a kid.
He’d been a week shy of his 18th birthday, which was the only reason he had a
clean record. He and some kid got in a fist fight behind the school, Dean sent
the kid to the hospital. Sam had seen him afterwards. He’d been shaking, pale
and lost. He didn’t want to be like Kubrick. He’d tried to bury his anger after
that. He threw himself even harder into this persona he had now. Into this
soulless corporate golden boy.
Dean was haunted by more than just Cas’s pain tonight.
Dean closed the door the bathroom felt like a haven. The running water was
already steaming up the bathroom mirror. Dean removed his borrowed shirt
tossing it aside. He’d need to get Sam a new one, it was ruined. It wasn't his
blood. He ran his hands over his face through his hair. He felt like he was
holding on by a thread. Wound tight close to the breaking point. His reflection
in the mirror was nothing, but a distorted haze of himself. Maybe that was what
he really looked like now.  Was he already that warped from who he used to be?
He stepped beneath the spray of the water tilting his head back he let the
water rush over him. The warm water blocking out everything.
He leaned forward taking a breath. Pressing his face against the cool tile he
let the water pummel his back. The knot in his throat, barely letting him
breath.
He saw flashes of violence. His mind forcing him to relive it.
He’d started his search at the last place he’d seen the man, the illegal club
downtown. He had asked around for Malik for a while before anyone either knew
enough or cared enough to answer. From there he headed to a bar. The place was
a shit hole. The kind of obviously shady place that was almost purposefully
distasteful so as to not attract the wrong kind of client, the honest one.
Getting in had been the easy part. His anger and frustration had carried him
forward a hurricane beneath his wings.
His anger flagged slightly when he found the man.
The room was near empty the bar’s open sign had been dark, but no one barred
his entrance there was only about three people in the room.
Malik looked deflated. Leaning heavily on the small round table. He’d been
staring into his drink. His expression a void.
When Dean stormed up to him he raised his eyes to his own and there was shame
there.
In his head Dean had thought about what he wanted to say to the man. He’d
wanted to tell him off. Call him a fucking monster for what he did to Cas. Yet
the man stole it from him.
“I’m sorry.”  his voice pained there were tears in his eyes as he took a
labored sip off his beer.
“What?” Dean asked incredulously
“It wasn't supposed to be like that.” he’d whispered.
Dean had punched him then. The impact rocking him back in the chair till he
fell to the floor.
Yet the man didn't defend himself.
“I was high.” he called out from where he was sprawled on the floor. Blood
gushing down his face. Dean had broke the man’s nose.
Dean  stepped forward only to grabbed from behind by one of the man’s
bodyguards.
The arm came around his neck using his shirt collar as leverage. It tore as he
pulled away.
It had been years since he had gotten in a fight. Not since he’d been a kid,
dealing with the repressed rage and anger that came from being kicked around
his whole life. His technique had been off, but he’d still been able to send
the flunky flying into the table as he stumbled trying to catch his balance. It
broke beneath his weight the pint of beer shattered sending beer and glass
flying.
“You put him in the fucking hospital!” he’d roared redirecting his anger at the
source.
He stepped towards him shoving the ruined wreckage of chairs out of his wake.
“It was an accident.” the man cried.
“Dean?” Sam called out.
Dean blinked coming back to himself.
The water was turning cold.
He stepped out. Toweling himself dry.
His hand ached. He should go to the ER, but all he wanted to was lie down and
sleep. Sleep for a year.
He dressed as best as he could his movements with his right hand growing
clumsier.
He was able to pull a pair of sweats out of the hamper, they might be dirty,
but they weren't covered in beer, broken glass or blood.
He was still shirtless as he opened the door for Sam
Sam was watching him carefully. Scanning him. Still Dean held himself back.
“Are you ok?” he asked Dean was leaning heavily against the door frame on his
shoulder cradling his right hand in his left.
“No.” he answered honestly.
He wasn’t ok.  
He did exactly what he’d sworn he’d never do.
Malik had stayed on the floor,when Dean kicked him. He’d kicked him in the
ribs.
The man rolled over with the impact curling on his side.
The bodyguard tackled him. He hit the floor hard the man knelt over him he
punched him hard in the face splitting his lip. Dean reared up hitting the
other man’s nose. Blood dripping down on him. There was blood in the bodyguards
teeth.
“Is it your hand?” Sam asked.
Dean dropped his head so he didn't have to look at him.
“Yeah… I think it's broken.”
Sam frowned concerned.
“Let me see?”
Sam gently grasped his hand in his, it hurt as he shifted it side to side.
“Yeah it's broken.” Sam agreed.  
“I didn't mean to hurt him.” Malik insisted weakly.
“What did you mean to do?” Dean demanded. Kneeling down on his chest to grab
the man’s hair pulling him up to look him in the eye.
He wouldn't meet his eyes.
“You broke his ribs.His  lung  deflated.” He growled savoring the words.
“He disrespected me.” Malik muttered
Dean shifted his grip to his shirt before he slammed the man’s head back
against the painted black concrete floor.
The noise was thick. The sound of the impact surprisingly quiet compared to the
force of it.
“What was that?”Dean demanded. Shaking him.
His head lolled back slightly. It seemed to take him a moment to gather his
thoughts.
“He left me” he howled.
Dean had paused. The man was a mess. Blood was drying on his face. Rivulets
congealing about his lips beneath his nose.
“I loved him.” the man spat out.
Dean stood quickly dropping him
“No you didn’t.”
“Here you go.” Sam murmured handing him the ice pack. Dean gingerly laid the
blue plastic bag across his hand.
“He’s turning himself in.” Dean informed Sam. they were in his kitchen. He
leaned back against the island. Sam stood in front of his microwave opposite
him.
Sam’s eyes met him.
“I didn’t make him.” Dean admitted clarifying. He hadn't gone there for justice
he’d gone to beat the shit of of a guy, because he’d been angry.
Malik beat Cas because he’d been angry.
“He's a hardened drug dealer” Sam whispered perplexed.
“Why would he turn himself in?”
He’s human.
“He felt bad.” Dean admitted parroting his response.
“And you?” Sam asked.
Dean glanced up.
“Do you feel bad?” Sam wondered watching him.
“Not  that  bad.”
***
He was going to be late to work. He knew he shouldn't really care. Honestly he
should take a sick day, but he needed to work. Needed to keep busy.  His hand
looked strange in the blue fiberglass cast. His wrist awkwardly bent backwards,
his ring and middle finger free the other two fingers bent forward wrapped in
the blue mesh-like material. He had a distal fracture of the 5th metacarpal,
typical of punching things, especially incorrectly.
Sam had stayed mostly silent during their wait time, even that late the
emergency room had been fairly full. It was six thirty, and Dean felt lucky to
have been treated so quickly.
There was so much he wanted to say to him. So much had happened. Dean held
Sam’s hand as he walked towards the elevator to his apartment. He’d promised to
check on Cas while he was at work. Dean knew that he should be there for him,
but he couldn't. Not yet. He needed to compose himself. The very thought of
walking back into a hospital at the moment made him feel physically ill.
“Thank you.” Dean muttered gruffly as the elevator rose.
They had barely spoken since Dean admitted he needed to go to the hospital. Sam
had been quiet, but attentive. He was waiting. He was giving him space to
process, while still being supportive.
Sam squeezed his left hand softly.
“No problem.” he replied. He was smiling, but Dean knew that it wasn’t over.
He’d hurt Sam last night and he needed to address that.
“Sam…” Dean begun
“Don’t” he chided softly. It wasn’t until that moment that he realised how
weary Sam looked.
Turning towards him Dean tried to seek out his eyes, trying to discern his
feelings.
Sam was holding out on him.
“Not yet.” Sam clarified
Dean nodded softly. Sam was right. They could talk about it later.
Sam led Dean to his bedroom. They’d given him a prescription for Tylenol 2
which Dean insisted on picking up himself on his way to work. Sam tried not to
take it personally. It was a fair precaution. Even if he had no interest in
destroying his liver with the overdose of acetaminophen he’d need to get high
off it, at least not yet.
Sam helped Dean dress.  He’d been able to manage the predominance of the task
himself, with the exception of buttons.
Sam tried to focus on his task at hand, versus the fact that a few hours ago
this scenario could have happened in reverse with Sam slowly undoing the
buttons on Dean’s dress shirt kissing the exposed flesh versus helping him
fasten the buttons.
The strangeness of the situation wasn’t lost on Dean.
His face was red.
Sam fought against the tightness in his chest as he did up the last few buttons
of the pale blue shirt.. He wanted to talk to Dean, but he looked like a stiff
wind would knock him over and he couldn't do it.
Dean cleared his throat.
“I'll go put on the coffee.” he insisted trying to keep his eyes off Sam’s
face. He turned towards the door only to pause as he realized he couldn't.
“I’ve got it.” Sam replied walking past him. He could take care of Dean.  
Dean stayed frozen looking at the carpet.
Sam was worried about him. He was keeping it all inside. It was what he always
did.
He wasn't sure how to operate his espresso machine, so he stuck with what he
knew. If Dean was pissed that he used his old drip MR.Coffee. He didn't say
anything.
They sat while Dean finished his coffee. Neither of them really felt like
eating. The silence seemed to stretch until breaking it seemed  impossible.
Sam sent Dean off to work without much trouble. He insisted on taking a cab
versus letting Sam keep driving him around. Sam let him. Dean needed to keep
busy, when something was bothering him always did. Sam needed a goal. Something
he’d been lacking lately. His only goal had been Dean.
Later today he’d go check on Cas in the hospital, but for now he settled with
cleaning up the mess he’d left in the kitchen.
He watched the soapy black water swirl in the glass pot.
How had it all gone to hell so quickly? He wondered.
He didn’t blame Cas. Cas’s relationship with Dean if anything was helping him.
Dean was opening up. Did it sting a little that it wasn't him he was opening up
to? yeah, but Sam would have never wanted this.
Sam didn’t know what he wanted, but he wanted a break.  Everyone deserves
happiness.
***
After a brief nap, Sam went down to the hospital. It was a little harder to
find Cas this time. He wandered through the maze of identical corridors. He’d
been placed in a room. It was a good sign. His internal bleeding had stopped,
his lung was healing nicely. His prognosis was good. He might be able to leave
the hospital tomorrow or the day after once they cleared his lung and TBI, it
sounded like a fucking miracle.Still Sam couldn't shake the feeling that the
other shoe had yet to drop.
Cas was asleep when Sam entered the room, but the nurse assured him that he’d
been awake earlier this morning when they took him to run some tests and cast
his arm.
He looked pale, but anyone looked a little sickly under the scratchy white
hospital blankets.
The bed was elevated so that he lay in a near sitting position rather than flat
on his back. His breathing was slightly labored, but it sounded more like he
had seasonal allergies versus his lung deflated. A tan tray sat next to the bed
so that it could be wheeled into place for meals. Sam set the tray he’d been
holding down, when Cas woke up he would help him eat.
His right arm was encumbered by two separate IV’s a saline solution and what
looked like a pleasant pain killer. Sam did not step closer to examine the type
he was better off not knowing.
His left arm was encased in a black mesh fiberglass cast all the way up to his
armpit past his elbow keeping his arm bent at a right degree angle. His fingers
above the knuckle the only portion of his arm exposed.
Sam couldn't see the chest tube. One of the nurses warned him about it earlier,
but she said that if everything went smoothly he might get it removed tonight.
It was amazing that something so life threatening was also so easily repaired.
Sam had spoken to Dr. Ross earlier, she had gave him some brief information
about his recovery time. His lung would, if there were no complications heal,
long before his ribs or his arm, in about two weeks. Yet if Cas had not made it
to the hospital he would have died.  It was sobering to realize how fragile
life was, but also how resilient it was.
He shook his head as he pulled the chair over to the window. They had warned
him that too much light and sound might irritate Cas. He was clearly reading
too much poetry.
He hoped for the best in Cas’s recovery. He wasn't sure what he expected for
their lunch date, but watching over him in the hospital had not been what he
expected.
He’d snapped a picture of Cas for Dean, for his update. He didn’t think Cas
would mind and perhaps seeing him would help Dean some. He was really worried
about Dean. Last night was out of character for him. Well for the new him, Sam
had never seen him lay a hand towards another person in anger. He’d known about
the fights, but they all felt somehow like just stories. It was hard for him to
tie to two men together. Bobby had directed Dean’s energy into cars and that
had helped.
Dean had never really expressed his emotions in a typical way. He bottled
everything up. He’d said as much last night. While they had been playing a
game, dean had said that he pushed him about because he felt like he was one of
the few people he couldn't have.
Sam could relate. Although his problem was in reverse he pushed everyone away
except the one man he wanted. There had never been any competition for his
heart he’d never let anyone in.
“Hey.” Cas croaked out trying to catch Sam’s attention.
Sam stood swiftly and moved to his side, placing his hands on the railing
beside the bed.
Cas hadn’t moved he still lay in nearly the exact same spot, but he was
blinking up at Sam trying to clear his vision.
“ Hey… how you feeling?” Sam asked
 Cas shrugged noncommittally
“Do you got any water?” he asked hoarsely
Sam turned to the tray and grabbed the beige large mug like thermus with a
straw in it.
Cas reached for it seemingly confused by the jerk of his IV’s as they came into
his view.
He frowned at them as he moved where he could grab the handle of the mug
without also grabbing a plastic tube.
His cast seemed to equally confuse him as he first tried to grasp the straw
with his left hand before abandoning it to instead grab with his teeth.
After he took his sips of water he turned back to Sam.  
“My head hurts.” he complained.
“You have a concussion.” Sam explained.
 Cas nodded as if the information made sense.
Sam gestured to his arm.
“What happened?” Cas asked.
Sam features hardened. “You were assaulted.”
Cas frowned, it was clear he didn’t remember that.  
“What day is it?” he wondered.
“Monday.” Sam replied.
Cas nodded seemingly absorbing the information.  He raised up his left arm to
study his cast more closely.
“I figured black was your color.” Sam explained trying to ease some of his
tension. He wasn’t sure what to do.  
Cas chuckled slightly before suffering a fit of painful coughs.
“Are you ok?” Sam asked nervously
“Do I need to get a doctor?”
Cas waved him off.
“I’m fine I’m fine.” he insisted grouchily.  
His brow was furrowed as if he was concentrating.
He looked around.
“Was Dean here?” he wondered.
“He saw you this morning when you were in the ICU.”
“I was in the ICU?” he asked seemingly perplexed.
“You had a punctured lung, and they were worried about internal bleeding and
your head injury.”
“That explains why my head hurts… do I have a concussion?”
Sam nodded startled
“Yes, you do.” he reiterated concern creeping into his vaguely exasperated
tone.
Cas nodded
“That explains why my head aches so much.”
Sam wanted to laugh just because he wasn’t sure how else to release the
emotions he had pent up in his chest. It was a farce. It had to be. He decided
fear creeping in. A never ending loop.
“Are you hungry? He asked trying to break the cycle.
Cas shook his head unsurely.
“I don’t know.” he murmured.
“They said you might be nauseous but that you need to eat.”
“Who said?” Cas asked suspiciously
“The nurses.” Sam supplied unsurely.
“Ok.”
Sam moved the tray into position and helped Cas adjust the bed to an even
higher setting so that he could eat.
The tray was fairly generic A small beige round container with some sort of
liquid, broth maybe. Fluorescent orange jello on the side. A package of generic
salted crackers.
Cas was trying to open the package of silverware. The thin film of plastic gave
him trouble, his IV’s shaking against the tray.
The film of plastic rattled.
Sam tried to take it from him
“I’ve got it.” Cas snapped. Redirecting his focus.
Sam nodded. He’d done some research last night while he was waiting for Dean to
come home. It was the only thing that had kept him sane. He knew that
irritability was common for those with Traumatic Brain Injuries. Especially in
the early stages of recovery. So he tried not to take it personally.
“Open it.”Cas demanded relenting handing him the spoon.
Sam opened the spoon and the container of broth. After several attempts trying
to scoop up the broth with the spoon Cas settled for drinking from the bowl.
He drank half of the broth and ate two cubes of the orange jello.
Sam had pulled his chair over so that he could sit next to the bed, Cas didn't
allow him to help except when it came to removing the plastic lids.
Cas looked over at him with a strange sense of clarity.
“You know I thought our first date would be a bit more fun.”  He taunted with
the most salacious eyebrow wiggle he could muster.
Sam was speechless. Not that Cas had been rude to him per say, but there was
this sort of unspoken acknowledgement that while maybe they found each other
attractive, they were both more interested in Dean, then each other.
“Liar.” Sam accused goodnaturedly
Cas shrugged.
“You know you want me.”
“Yeah the hosptial gown is really doing it for me”  
Cas laughed again only to follow it with the same rattling coughs.
He took a quick sip of water. Leaning his head back trying to settle his
breathing.
“Don’t make me laugh.” he ordered still grining.  
His eyes widened as if something just occurred to him.
“How was your date last night?”
Sam smiled
“It was…” Sam paused searching for the words.
“That good huh?” Cas asked sarcasm seeping into his words.
Well at least he still could respond with sarcasm.
“No.” Sam admitted. “ It went really well at first.”
“Was it my fault?” He wondered.
“What? No.”
Cas nodded glancing around again.
“Where’s Dean?”
“He’s at work.”
“Oh. I thought I saw him.”
They lapsed into silence as Cas finished off his water.
“He cares about you.” Cas told him softly
“He told me, he has feelings for you he just doesn't know what they are.”
Sam didn’t know how to reply.
“He’s scared of change, he’s scared of losing what you’ve got together”
“And what is that?” Sam wondered angrily. What did they have that could
possibly be better that what they stood to gain.
“You trust him, you two are always there for each other always have been. If he
messes this up he’d lose that.”
Objectively Sam knew that it was true, but he’d never figured in for loss
because he knew they belonged together.
“Dean cares about you too.” Sam informed him.
Cas smiled before adding. “I’m tired.”  
“You get some rest.” Sam agreed pulling the chair back to the window.
“I’ll be here for a bit longer if you wake back up.”
***
Dean glanced at the picture of sleeping Cas one more time. It was probably the
seventh today. He looked so small, sleeping in that bed, but his color was
better than last night.
Mr. Adler had poked his head into his office to ask why he was late and nearly
lost it over his face.
Dean made up some story about how he was jumped on his way home from the
restaurant.
Somehow it managed to make him look even better in his boss's eyes for still
coming into work today.
It was difficult to get some on the paperwork done since he couldn't type, but
he was able to take some conference calls with some clients.
Still Mr. Adler had given him to ok to duck out early today and for once Dean
was going to take him up on it.
He wanted to go home. He was tired, still he was debating on stopping by the
hospital to see Cas on the way home or not. Sam had just texted him that he
left and Cas was still sleeping. He didn’t want to wake him.
Plus he needed to talk to Sam.
The pain meds he got for his hand helped slightly, but it was still sore when
he moved.
He finished up his last bit of vital work for the day. The rest he could pass
of to Nelson or have his assistant type up tomorrow. He’d send her that gift
certificate to Neiman Marcus he kept promising her for her trouble.
The uber dropped him off at his apartment a little after two forty. He hoped
that Sam wasn't there yet.  
He’d asked him to meet him here, but he wanted to get his head straight about
last night before they talked.
Not that he’d really be able to work through it all before he got there.
Sam was waiting for him in the lobby.
They rode the elevator back up to his apartment for the third or fourth time
today.
“How was he?” Dean asked.
Sam’s brows wrinkled in contemplation.
“He’s still Cas, he’s just… a little fuzzy.”
Dean nodded.
“Maybe some of that will wear off once he’s off his medicine.”
Sam added hopefully.
They entered his apartment. Sam had cleaned up some this morning. He’d crashed
on the sofa. There was a blanket and a pillow from the hall closet folded
neatly at the end of the sofa.
Dean sat indicating that Sam should take a seat as well.
Sam took a deep breath. Before joining him.
Dean stayed staring at his hand for a very long time before he turned to Sam.
“I’m sorry.”
Sam licked his lips.
“For what?” he asked hating being that guy but he needed to know it.
He needed to know that Dean understood why he was upset and not just
apologizing so that he could make this go away.
“I panicked when Mr. Adler showed up.” Dean continued. He moved to run his hand
through his hair but couldn't irritatedly he stood and paced instead.
“This is all just so new.” he admitted.
“How can I let other people put a label on it when I don't even know what this
is?”
Sam cocked his head to the side studying him.
“Do you have feelings for me?” he asked.
Dean bit his lip before remembering it stung.
Sam watched him straighten clenching his good fist at his side.
“Yes.” Dean admitted
It was more than Sam expected.
“But I don't know what they mean.” he continued sagging a little.
“I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve.”
“And what kind of man is that?” Sam asked humoring him trying to discern the
direction of his thoughts.
“A man that can walk proudly with you.” he continued ashamed.
Sam flinched. He hit the nail right on the head there.
The same swirling fear he had Dean had as well.
Could Sam be someone’s dirty little secret?
Not just someone… Dean’s.
Dean was more than just someone.
“Ok.” Sam agreed. Dean frowned.
“What?” he asked
“It's fine. You don’t need to be out with me.”
Dean shook his head confused.
“You’ve never been ashamed to be who you are.”
“And I'm still not.”
“But you don’t want this public and you’re worth anything.”  
Dean frowned.
“No I’m not.” he swore.
Sam expected insecurity but that wasn’t what Dean meant.
“No one is.” Dean continued.
Dean was trying to catch his eye.
“You can’t place your happiness on another person.”
“And why not?” Sam snapped leaping to his feet suddenly defensive.
Dean looked away. Sucking in his cheeks, still biting his lip.
“For one, cause you’ll always be disappointed.”
Sam moved to speak but Dean cut him off.
“Two, it's too much pressure on another person. You can't have a person be your
reason for living. You have to find that yourself.”
Sam turned away.
“I don’t have anything else.”
Dean placed his hand on his shoulder turning him. The cast was heavy against
him.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Dean asked.
“What?”
“Put yourself down?”
“Why do you?”
Dean shrugged agreeing with him.
“Cause we’re fucked up I guess.”
“I love you.” Sam whispered stepping closer. Dean held his hands up fending him
off.
“Sammy don’t” he pressed. Turning his head.
“Dean please.”
Dean was shaking his head still fighting against meeting his eyes.“If we jump
into this before we figure out if this will work…”
“What?” Sam taunted goading him.
Sadness clouded his face.“There will be no going back and people might get
hurt.”
“I’ll get hurt you mean.” Sam shot back
Dean was still shaking his head his eyes down cast before meet finally meeting
his.
“Not just you.” Dean warned.
“It will be worth it.” Sam insisted.
Dean closed his eyes. He was done. He was tired of this swirling in his heart.
The last twenty four hours had been a mass of conflicting emotions. It was a
whirlwind of pain and he was ready for a respite.
Sam was a big boy, he could make his own decisions, and so could he.
“Ok.” Dean sighed on a rush of air.
It was awkward. Like Dean was defeated. Sam stepped forward. Placing his hands
on either side of his head. The kiss was like breathing natural, easy, life
affirming and dangerous if it stopped.
He pulled Dean flush against him kissing him softly at first Dean let him
control the kiss. Their lips moving together in tender sweep.
Dean wrapped his arms around him pulling them together.
It was cathartic, like coming home after a long grueling trip.  
It didn’t seem weird to either of them that they kissed standing in the middle
of Dean’s living room for what felt like ages. Just kissing each brush of skin
a note in the waltz that was playing around them.
Dean thought of Cas… he tried not to but somehow not thinking about him felt
wrong.
This didn’t change anything, between them.  He would still be there for Cas for
whatever he needed during his recovery.
“What do you want?” Sam asked him.
Dean wasn’t sure.
He wanted Sam, but he didn’t know if he could do it.
Now he understood how asking Cas what he wanted didn’t do a bit of good. He was
so overwhelmed with need and yet so at a loss, he wasn't sure of anything.
Sam must have read something in his expression.
“Tell me if you want me to stop or slow down.”
Dean nodded.
He ran his hand up his chest smoothing up the dress shirt before nimbly
unbuttoning it only to repeat the action against bare skin.
Dean suppressed a shiver.  Sam kissed and sucked on his neck nipping the hollow
of his throat.
Dean murmured his pleasure.
Sam pushed him forward until his knees hit the back of the sofa.
Dean sat as Sam commanded.
Sam knelt over him one knee beside him on the sofa the other leg thrown over
him ignoring the awkward angle as he kissed and licked his way down his chest
and stomach.
Sam like the way his skin tasted the way Dean shivered beneath his tongue. How
all the world narrowed down to his five senses and how all of them were
inundated with Dean.
Dean was hard. He could feel the throbbing of his cock trapped against his
slacks.
Sam was over him kissing his neck grinding against him slightly.
“Sam.” Dean gasped and Sam thought he was going to die. The breathy sound going
straight to his cock.
Sam pulled back slightly dropping to his knees. Technically he’d sucked Dean’s
dick earlier, but it had been dark under the table and in the rush to tease he
hadn’t properly enjoyed himself.
He unfastened Dean’s pants. Dean eagerly stood shucking his slacks. Before
yanking his boxers down.
Sam traced the head of his cock in slow arduous circles. Dean’s hips rising
slightly at the height of each sweep. He was panting slightly. Groaning in
frustration. As Sam encircled him with his fist pumping experimentally. Precum
leaking forth as he did so.
Sam laved the head of his cock lapping up the clear liquid. Enjoying the musky
taste.
If Dean let him he would lick him all over. Taste every inch of him, but he
knew Dean wasn’t ready. He remembered his first time, it hadn't been his first
experience with sex. He spent months giving out hand jobs or blowjobs before he
felt ready to go further sure Dean wasn’t a virgin, not really, but he’d never
been with a man and Sam wanted to make damn sure he was ready if that man was
going to be him.
Sam bobbed his head down over Dean’s cock hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked
slightly making sure to keep his teeth clear as he took him all the way to the
base. His ponytail bouncing with him.
“Jesus fucking christ.” Dean gasped grasping for purchase on the edge of the
sofa.
Yeah Sam was showing off a little.Bobbing his head in a faster rhythm swirling
his tongue against the glans on the upstroke.
“Fuuuuk.” Dean breathed. His hips hitching forward slightly as he thrust into
his mouth
Sam’s own cock was throbbing begging to be touched. He wanted Dean to touch
him, but he wanted to satisfy Dean more.
“Stop.” Dean insisted.
Sam pulled back instantly
 Watching him.  Worried he’d misjudged something.
Dean took a moment to catch his breath.
“Let's take this to the bedroom.”
Sam grinned. Dean walked ahead of him completely naked and unashamed.
Once they were in his bedroom Sam wasn’t sure how to proceed.
It was clear that Dean was uncertain as well.
“Do you want me to…” Dean left his sentence trailing as he gestured towards
Sam’s crotch ever the wordsmith.
Sam pulled his shirt off over his head
He let his hair down not wanting to lie back on the tie.
Dean gasped slightly
Sam looked good. Like too good for words. Seeing him in his bedroom was like
all of the dirty dreams sprung to life. The dreams that he woke up to achingly
hard but too afraid to masterbate too know that it was Sam that got him hard.
The taboo element gave it a small thrill he hadn’t expected. The only downside
was he hadn’t thought through being able to touch him with his goddamn broken
hand.  He wanted to stroke Sam. Give him as much pleasure as Sam gave him.
Sam lay back on Dean’s bed his heart racing. This was it. A start to what he’d
always wanted.
He was nervous.
“I'm not sure what I can do since my hand.” Dean muttered holding up his stiff
cast.
Sam smirked
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Do you have lube?” Sam asked after a beat.
Dean nodded feeling a strange sense of deja vu he shuddered he wasn’t blind he
knew that  there was a finite amount of things two people did together sexually
so the fact that he and Sam and he had Cas had hit some of the same notes
wasn't surprising it just made him sad.
“What’s this?” Sam asked teasingly pulling out the black dildo from his drawer.
Dean blanched.
“Benny from work got it for me a few years back as a gag.”
Sam raised a brow showing he didn’t believe him.
“I think Benny wanted to get in your pants.” Sam teased.
Dean frowned.
“You think?”
Sam shrugged.
“Who knows?” he shrugged.
“You ever used it?” Sam asked grinning widely.
“No.” Dean admitted sheepishly.
“Wanna watch me use it?”
Dean’s mouth went dry. He wanted that. He wanted that a whole lot.
“Yeah.” he replied his voice husky.
Dean watched as Sam leaned back over to the drawer to grab the lube. Dean was
having an entirely different set of ideas.
Dean climbed up next to him on the bed as Sam settled on the right side of the
bed Dean on the left facing the head of the bed.
Sam left the bed for a moment unbuttoning his fly and shimming out of his
jeans.
Dean licked his lips. He’d never seen Sam naked. As much as he wanted to he’d
always managed to fight the urge.
Sam seemed aware of the heat of the moment. Maybe he felt it too. As he slid
out of his boxers. Seeing his cock sent another thrill through him. He was
still rock hard. Dean swallowed and Dean had no problems with length or girth
but Sam was still larger than he was. He wasn’t sure he could take him in his
mouth let alone his ass.
Sam stroked himself experimentally. Watching as Dean’s hungry eyes tracked his
movements.
Sam moved settling himself back onto the bed bringing his knees up lifting his
hips just enough so finger himself. Pouring the lube in his hands he slicked
his ass hole. He careful circled the puckered rim with his index finger before
sliding inside. Dean gasped. There was something profoundly filthy touching
himself with Dean watching him. Especially with his expressions. It was like it
was all new to him and maybe it was.
Dean idly stroked his cock as he watched Sam finger himself.He wasn’t the best
with his left hand, but it wasn’t the first time he’d jacked off with it.  The
angle looked awkward, but also hot as all fucking hell.  Dean wondered if he
could fuck Sam. Mechanically it couldn't be that different from a woman and
he’d had anal sex with woman, he knew he shouldn't be so scared of one little
barrier but it was.
Sam was stroking the dildo now. Covering the fake cock in lube pumping it with
his fist coating it before he positioned in front of his hole. He slid it in
slowly.
He’d had bigger things in his ass than this toy still he drew it out for Dean.
sliding it in and out just inches at a time groaning as he went before it was
no longer about teasing Dean as the dildo slid in and out of his ass, rubbing
against his prostate.
Sam was groaning deep in his throat.
Dean licked his lips. Sliding forward cautiously.
Dean hesitated before wrapping his left hand around Sam’s cock. The angle was
different than what he was used to but the grip was basically the same. He was
warm. He stroked Sam’s cock softly exploring the different textures.
Sam groaned bucking into his hand.  Dean curled on his side slightly using his
right hand as leverage so that he could get a better angle. Sam moaned in
appreciation as he picked up speed.
The enormity of the situation stuck him again. He was jacking Sam off, while he
slid a dildo in and out of his own ass and Dean wanted to cum so badly.
Dean’s grip on his cock was a source of heat that moved throughout his entire
body.He wasn’t trying to tease or prolong anything he was stroking him his grip
tight around his cock. It was everything he always wanted. He wanted to beg
Dean to fuck him. He wanted to slide off the bed only to turn around and bend
over the edge of the so that Dean could pound into him, but he could tell by
his face he wasn’t ready but Sam couldn't last much longer without cumming it
was fucking torture.
“Make me cum and I’ll finish you off.” Sam told him.
Dean swallowed before nodding.
He pumped his hand up and down Sammy’s cock quickening his pace he watched as
Sam’s own thrusts with the dildo were growing frenzied and sloppy, he was
close.
Dean leaned in unable to keep his words to himself.
“You look so fucking hot.” he admitted. Sam whined at the compliment.
“I want you to cum for me.” he whispered. His hand a blur against Sam’s cock.
That was all it took to send him over the edge. Spurts of cum covering Dean’s
hand and his own stomach. He moaned Dean’s name as he came
The sound of his name nearly did him in right there. Watching Sam spasm and
moan his name was fucking unbelievable hot. He only had a moment to take in the
view before Sam rolled over enough that he could take Dean’s cock in his mouth.
Sucking hard. Dean gasped at the sudden intense sensations. Sam pressed him
back down on the bed. Sucking him in earnest bobbing his head up and down
faster and faster gripping him with his free hand twisting as a counterpoint to
his bobbing.
Dean had never cum faster in his life.
Sam reveled in the taste of Dean’s cock it was a fantasy sprung to life.
Listening to his litany of moans and gasps and he chanted his name right before
he came.
The cum filled his mouth he swallowed hard savoring it.
He had finally got to make Dean cum with his mouth now he only hoped to spend
the rest of his life making the man cum for him every possibly imaginable way.
“Holy fuck.” Dean breathed falling back against the pillows curling on his
side.
Sam laughed he was surprised when Dean pulled him into him. It wasn’t often
that he was the small spoon.
“Thank you.” Dean murmured.
Sam laughed surprised.
“You're welcome. I guess.”  
“I needed that.” he murmured against the nape of his neck dropping kisses
against him.
“You have no idea.” Sam replied. He’d needed that for years. He’d really got to
touch Dean to taste him. He only hoped that he could continue to do so.
It felt like he had spent his whole life in a daze and now he was finally
living.
Chapter End Notes
     I had a very hard time writing this chapter I rewrote the first half
     three times trying to meld the two characters. my AU version and the
     cannon version of Dean. canonically Dean would kick his ass I knew
     that for sure, but as far as my au was concerned I knew that violence
     had taken a toll on him during his early childhood so I didn't think
     he would feel good about beating someone up, hopefully I got a good
     level of compromise.
     secondly this was very difficult to write because it is a bit of a
     catharsis for me, my younger brother was in a bad car accident at the
     beginning of this year and has been struggling with the effects of a
     Traumatic Brain Injury ever since.
     the sex at the end is a very natural response to stress and fear of
     death and hopefully it didn't suck. or well there was sucking but not
     the bad kind.
***** Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer. *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING talking about drugs, suicide, cutting, love, emotions
     past sexual trauma, trauma in general.
     this chapter is a labor of love
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The next few days limped by, Sam spent the night Monday. Dean wasn’t sure how
he felt about it, but he also had not wanted him to leave. When he woke up
Tuesday morning he was alone. He got the call from the clinic around noon. He
was clean, so that was comforting at least.They traded off Sam was scheduled to
work in the call center all day and unlike Dean he didn't have as much access
to time off. So Dean took a half day and checked on Cas. They removed the chest
tube, it was strange to watch. They removed the bandage and the hollow clear
tube was just lying there slightly red hanging from his chest sutured in place.
They removed the sutures first had him inhale and exhale a few times before
quickly removing it. It looked like it hurt, but they assured him it looked
worse than it felt but Cas begged to differ. Saying it burned all the way out.
Sam was right about him still being Cas, but fuzy. He seemed easily confused
and grew tired just as easily.
Dean stayed and helped through lunch Cas was playful, flirtatious and in good
spirits, yet at the same time. He was easily irritated. He snapped at Dean
several times when he tired to offer help.
He was frustrated by his own lack of concentration and focus. His inability to
care for himself.
Dean left for work with mixed feelings. Cas had needed to rest, he was like a
child that needed a nap, but fought it. He didn’t want to be fragile.  
His work day went a bit smoother. He bought speech recognition software, on the
company dime and it boosted his productivity. He didn’t invite Sam over that
night. He needed some time to think. Except time to think turned into brooding.
He drank. That likely didn't help the clarity of his purpose, but it was an
analgesic balm on his battered heart.  
After about a third of the bottle he called Lisa. He wasn’t proud of it, but
other than Sam she was his only confidant in life.
She didn’t answer and he knew it was for the best. He settled onto the sofa his
only source of light was his tablet.
So he read, and he drank.
He read about concussions and recovery time. It was much longer than he’d ever
realized.
He read about helping sexual assault survivors, about reteaching them about
touch.
It was a diversion.
He knew that.
He didn’t want to figure out what he and Sam had. What they did together was
amazing. He couldn't deny the chemistry they had together he could just deny
everything else. He passed out on his sofa.
Wednesday passed anxiously. They were planning on releasing Cas from the
hospital, but he had a fever so he stayed another day for observation, they
upped his dose of antibiotics.
Sam waited for Dean to call and he didn’t.
He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he tried to stay busy so that he wouldn't
think about it. He went jogging, in the morning before work, and at night so
that he could fall asleep. He ran till his legs burned and ached till his heart
pounded in his chest and he couldn't catch his breath.
He had to talk to him eventually. Sam reasoned.
He wouldn't just cut him out of his life.
So he just needed to wait. He’d spent his life waiting.
He was looking for meaning elsewhere. Dean was right.
He couldn’t place his entire purpose for being on him, but it wasn’t that easy.
Everyday was a struggle to drag himself to work. He’d stare at the ceiling
after his first alarm went off the weight of his dred centered in chest  like a
gargoyle sat on him keeping him down, Then after work he stopped by to check on
Cas. He’d watch him fumble with his food, his equilibrium off. He didn’t let on
about his own inner turmoil there wasn't any point in it, but he felt like his
own world was spinning off kilter his own balance shifted. He and Dean,
couldn't be brothers after Monday night. Yet he wasn't sure where he stood.
He knew he needed a purpose. A direction, but one wasn’t exactly forthcoming.
Cas was able to leave the hospital Thursday night.
***
Sam picked him up from the hospital. He took his car. Cas seemed much improved,
the doctor gave him Cas’s discharge papers with all the information he might
need on recovery information, and a prescription for pain med’s that Sam
quickly tucked into the file folder the doctor gave him. Out of sight out of
mind. They wanted Cas to follow up with a Neurologist, but the last MRI
confirmed that there was still no brain bleeds. They wheeled Cas to the exit in
a wheelchair, but he walked the rest of the way to the car with minimal
problems. He stumbled along. The clothes he’d worn on intake had to be thrown
away. So Sam brought up a pair of clean clothes for him from his bag. If Cas
objected to Sam going through his stuff he hadn’t said anything yet. He was
quiet on the ride over to Dean’s place. He was staring out the window his
thoughts unreadable.
“How you feeling?” Sam asked.
“I’m ok.” he muttered.
Sam nodded. If he wasn't there wasn’t anything Sam could do about it.
He didn’t exactly have his own house in order.  He licked his lips as he drove,
torn on what he wanted to say or ask.
“I don’t remember.” Cas murmured. He wasn’t looking at Sam. he didn't seemed to
be looking at much of anything actually. He was looking out the window,but what
Sam could see of his expression was numbness.
“The assault?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.” he replied.he wrapped his arms around himself. Sam reached over to turn
up the heat. Cas seemed small,pale, sapped of any warmth or expression, like
someone wiped him clean. He was coming down from whatever they gave him at the
hospital.
“The last thing I remember was Dean made pancakes that morning.”
Sam nodded, not sure that his confession needed a response. He also wasn't sure
if his gaps in memory was a negative or a positive.  
“My head hurts.” Cas muttered.
“Dean will get your pain meds when he gets off work.” Sam assured him.
Cas looked over at him confused.
“Can’t we just stop on the way home?” He asked his voice drawn his hand rested
on his temple partially shielding his eyes from the sun. His expression
pinched.
“I can just wait in the car it won't take long you don't have to worry about
me.”
Sam licked his lips nervously.
“Yeeeah.” He agreed unsurely.
“I’m sure we can do that.” he tried again more confidently directing the car to
the nearest pharmacy.
Cas was resting his head against the glass of the window his eyes closed.
The cut along his cheek  had bruised up nicely creating a large patch on his
left side of strange shades of purple and a shade of bilious yellow-green.
The one at his hairline bruised less dramatically having already faded
slightly.
Sam had seen his chest however when he was helping him dress. There were many
dark bruises across his entire body.
He was in pain.  
Sam pulled into the parking lot and let the serenity prayer run through his
head. He could do this. It was just like picking up any other type of groceries
for him.
“I’ll be right back.”  he called out snagging the file folder from where it sat
in the back seat.
He flipped it open and fished out the slip of paper.
It took him a moment to read the doctor’s looping cursive.
It was a prescription for Norco
He felt his hand shake as he held the page.
7.5 mg hydrocodone bitartrate
325 mg of acetaminophen
He hadn’t been this close to this strong of an opioid since he got out of
rehab.
He tossed the folder back into the car and marched into the pharmacy.
Once inside he lost some of his vigor. He found himself pacing the aisles,
slowly making his way back past the novelty toys, beauty products, towards the
prescription drop off.
There wasn’t a line. Sam almost hoped that there would be. Not sure how it
would make much of a difference. It would only buy him a few moments.
He wasn’t seriously thinking of stealing Cas’s pills.
Not really.
It was unthinkable.
He stepped up to the counter.
“I’m here to pick up a prescription for my boyfriend.”
He said surprised how true it felt.
The man behind the counter nodded, as Sam handed over the script.
The man examined the prescription for a moment before he continued without
glancing up.
“Can I see your ID?”  
Sam reached into pocket and pulled out his wallet handing it over to the man.
He typed it into the computer, then handed it back to him.
“It will take a few moments, and I’ll need you to sign.”
“Ok.” Sam agreed. Stepping back from the counter.
He paced around slightly
He wasn't going to take Cas’s pills.
He kept his hands in his pocket.
He was clean. A year of sobriety beneath his belt. To a certain degree, anyway.
He hadn't exactly had the strongest will. He’d drank more than enough to make
up for his lack of opioids.
“Mr. Wesson to the pharmacy.”  the voice chimed over the intercom.
Sam dragged his feet as he walked back to the counter.
The man set the bag on the counter. The prescription and receipt stapled to the
folded bag.
Sam handed over his charge card. Dean would pay him back.
***
Cas wasn’t a hundred percent certain of what was going on. He lay on the glass,
content to remain where he was rather than question it. He wasn’t sure how he
got here or where he was going, but that was fine. As long as he held still his
head didn’t hurt.
The car door to his left opened Sam slid into the passenger seat.
Cas didn’t move.
“Here.” Sam insisted pressing something cold against his arm.
It was a bottle of water.
“Don’t want it.”
He insisted. He didn’t want to sit up.
“It’s so you can take your pills.” Sam insisted.
“What pill?”
He asked opening his eyes. He watched as Sam pulled a bottle out of an open
bag.
He tipped the bottle.
Sam handed him an oblong orange pill.
The pill had the words Norco 729 imprinted on it.
“This is mine?” he asked.
Sam was frowning. He handed him a pill bottle.
His name was printed on the bottle.
one tablet every four to six hours as needed for pain.  The total daily dose
should not exceed 6 tablets.
“Ok” Cas agreed.
Taking the pill and water.
He swallowed the pill and leaned back against the car door.
***
He didn’t do it.
He’d opened the bag, he’d opened the bottle. He looked at the pills. Counted
them, but ultimately he returned them to the bottle and went back to the car.
  
He wanted to. He still did. It took more control than he wanted to admit.
Cas had fallen asleep.
He was driving. The radio was off. All he had to listen to was the whir of the
wheels against the road.
***
They didn’t talk.
Sam stayed with Cas until Dean got home. He got him settled in the guest
bedroom.
He quickly fell asleep. That left him little else to do.  
He waited till Dean got home. They didn’t talk.
Not that they didn’t say anything to each other. They spoke. Dean asked him how
his day was. How Cas was doing. All the while avoiding eye contact rubbing his
left hand on the back of his neck.
Sam asked Dean how work was. He told him about his new software.
They didn’t talk about the empty bottle of whiskey that was in the trashcan and
the several bottles of beer on top of it, or the half empty bottle on the
cabinet.
They didn’t talk about how proud Dean was that Sam didn’t steal Cas’s pills or
 the reason he’d gone to the bathroom after Sam handed them over wasn't to put
them away, but to count how many were left and how many there were supposed to
be. There were exactly one hundred and nineteen.
They smiled and pretended everything was ok. Neither of them exactly sure that
it was a lie.
“Do you think you can come by tomorrow to help me with Cas?” Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. It wasn’t an excuse to be close to him, it was helping his friend
get better.
“Yeah sure.” he replied.
They stood awkwardly in the center of Dean’s livingroom.  Dean aggressively not
making eye contact.
Sam turned to leave, he was at the door. He paused at the threshold his hand on
the doorknob.
“No.” he decided voicing his thoughts aloud.
“Fuck this!” he spun back to face Dean. His eyes were wide.
“What?” Dean asked confused.
“Not about Cas” Sam clarified waving him off.
“I’m not doing this.” He insisted.
“What?” Dean asked again with the same perplexed expression.  He still didn’t
see it. The same pattern they always fell into.
“Playing this game where we don't talk and act like everything is fine when we
are the exact opposite.”
Shame filtered across Dean’s features, he knew what he was talking about.
“I’ve played this game for years pining after you, I’m done.”
Dean’s expression shifted from surprised to something close to pity.
“I’m not ok Dean,” Sam said earnestly
“I haven’t been ok in a long time. And you know what?” he murmured with an
irreverent shrug
“I’m ok with that.” he added with a wry smile.
Dean expression was pinched, biting his lower lip.
“I've been depressed and the last time I was really happy was with you.”
Dean inhaled sharply.
“And I know long term that's not healthy or whatever but I think you will agree
that it’s better than having nothing like we do now.”
Dean glanced around the room still not meeting his eyes.
“I mean look at this Dean?” he insisted gesturing to the collection of empty
bottles cluttering up the trash bin.
“From one addict to another, this isn’t healthy either. We need to deal with
this shit. We can’t just keeping pushing it away.”
Dean stepped forward slightly before stopping. Frozen by indecision.
“I’m not asking you to love me.”
“I…” Dean faltered
“But talk to me.” Sam continued.
“I am.”
“About the things that matter.” Sam clarified throwing his arms up frustrated.
“I tried!” Dean called out dejected clenching his good fist at his side.
Sam blinked back surprised.
“I told you.” Dean swore his voice shaking  “ You deserve someone better than
me.” He continued.
“,but I don't want someone else.”
“And that's the problem!” Dean asserted throwing up his hand.
“I do.” he admitted his expression was twisted up in a mix of shame and despair
like the confession was torn out of him.
Sam frowned unsurely.
Dean turned away he ran his left hand through his hair.
“ I don’t know what to do.” he admitted his voice quavering. It was a
vulnerability that he’d never heard from him before.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked approaching him he reached out for him touching
his shoulder Dean spun.
His eyes were red, he was on the verge of tears.
“It’s Cas.” Dean murmured.
“What about him?” Sam wondered.
“Did something else happen?” forgetting that he spent the day with him caught
up in Dean’s apparent torment.
“No.” Dean replied choked up.
“I love you Sam,” Sam’s heart skipped a beat, did he just admit…
“But I, think I love Cas too.”  Dean continued.
Sam hesitated he was waiting. Waiting to feel some sense of sadness or
resentment.
His expression must have been troubling because Dean continued.
“I keep thinking.” he begun
“It keeps running round and round in my head” he gestured in a circle at his
temple as he begun to pace.
“What if Cas died? how would I have felt?”
Sam moved to speak but Dean cut him off
“Let me get this out ok” he expressed hand up.
“I could see him all beat to hell like he was, but in the morgue and I’d have
to identify the body...” he let the sentence trail off.
“It fucked me up,” he admitted he was still pacing trying to work up to what he
was getting at.
“ but not as bad as what came next.”
“I pictured you on that slab, and it damn near killed me.” he continued his
voice breaking.
“I know this fucked up situation was just your way of making things easier for
me but I liked it, maybe a bit too much.”
Sam tried to catch him as he paced by but he pulled his arm out of his grip.
“ I know I haven’t known him that long, but it’s good.” he insisted
“I don’t wanna give him up.”
“Then don’t” Sam murmured soothingly.  
Dean paused in his agitated pacing to look at him.
He was searching his face trying to understand his expression.
“But…” Dean sputtered.
“But what?”
“We are adults right? If something works for us why should we do it
differently?” Sam asked.
“Because it's not …”
“Normal?” Sam supplied “When have we ever been normal?”
“Fair.” Dean persisted.
“Who said?” Sam demanded.
“I asked you to not be ashamed to be in public with me.” Sam continued being
honest
Dean winced
“I never said you had to do it alone.”
Dean was biting his lip.
“Cas has taught you things in the brief amount of time he’s been here that I
thought you’d never learn.”
Dean crossed his arms defensively
“Like what”
“Like opening up, like maybe just maybe it's ok to love me.”
Reluctantly Dean glanced over at Sam
“I’m sorry I said it like that.” he murmured.
“Then come over here and do it the right way.” Sam teased.
Dean stepped over to him and kissed his cheek his stubble tickling his lips.
“I love you Sam Wessen.”
Sam pressed forward leaning into the soft kiss, Dean pulled away too soon.
“Are you sure you are ok with polyamory?” Dean asked.
Sam thought about it. This was different than his decision to let Dean stay in
the closet with him. This really didn’t bother him. He liked Cas, he considered
him a friend, he was fine with him being Dean’s metamor.
“Yeah.” he agreed
“I am, and I get that you’re not ready for some stuff and that’s fine I can
wait till you are but please talk to me.”
Dean nodded.
“Where do we go from here?” Dean asked searchingly
“How about we put on a movie?” Sam suggested.
“Die hard?”  Dean tossed out.
“Sounds great.” he agreed with a warm smile.
***
Four years and five months ago
Jimmy Novak wasn’t a bad kid. Not really. He just had an attitude problem. Or
at least that was what Mrs. Jones, his new foster mother said, but she was a
bitch. Not as psycho as the Stepford family he just left, but the kind that
already had curfews  and expected him to report good grades and blah blah
bullshit when he already knew full well Mrs. Jones was fucking her yoga
instructor  Gary, on the side. He supposed he should be happy that she didn't
want to fuck him, but he had low expectations when it came to caregivers. He
had started over. Again. New state, new home, new school.
Still didn’t change the fact that his Mom molested him. Didn’t change the fact
that this was his third new home this year and the sixth  since people found
out the truth and took him away. Didn’t change the fact that somehow people
always knew. Maybe they didn’t know the details, but people always knew
something was wrong with him. It was almost like he had a scent. There would be
whispers about the weird new kid within the week he was sure of it. By this
point there was already somewhat of a pattern.
It would start out ok. It usually did. He wouldn’t draw too much attention to
himself he’d try to fit in keep to himself, sit in the back of the room, back
of the bus, back of the cafeteria, but at some point that PTSD his foster
parents were always warned about would kick in and he’d do something weird.
Then his foster parents would wanna transfer him to somebody who was “more
qualified to help someone with his condition” except he just get stuck with
another new equally clueless family he used to think that people would save
him. When he was ten years old that was all he ever thought about. He’d imagine
a time when he would be safe and warm and happy. It was sobering to realize
that shit didn’t happen in real life. Nobody came to save you, till it was too
late and you couldn't be saved.
It was the first day of school and she packed his lunch. Jimmy was standing in
the kitchen his dark brown hair falling into his eyes. He wore his now standard
uniform black jeans, black t-shirt and bulky black hoodie with ragged holes cut
into the sleeves for his thumbs.It didn't matter that it was the last week of
August in south Texas he never wore short sleeves. Jimmy stared at the sack on
the cabinet. He couldn’t decide if he was touched or annoyed, by her actions.
The brown paper bag had his name on it in scrolling black sharpie. It’s
contents were a mystery but for some reason he was picturing peanut butter and
jelly. He was starting to wonder if Mrs. Melissa Jones knew he was fourteen not
four.
It was his first day of school here. His chance of actually making friends was
slim. Now he had a bag with his name on it like a two year old. Still he tucked
the bag into his backpack pragmatically, he had to eat.
He walked to the bus stop hands in his hoodie pockets  kicking up dust on the
gravel road as he went. He steeled himself for the day ahead.  The idea of High
school had already lost its luster. He knew without even walking into the
building that he wouldn't fit in there so he didn’t even try. He was done
trying. Mrs. Jones balked at the lipstick, but she let him keep the bit of
eyeliner, saying she didn’t even let her daughter wear lipstick when she was
fourteen.  Like he gave a fuck what was age appropriate. His goal today was to
get in get out, create enough of a stir that people would give him a wide
berth. If he was gonna stand out might as well do it on his own terms.
It was eerily quiet as he waited for the bus he was the only one waiting at the
slightly rusted sign. cicadas buzzing in background. It was a sweltering 95
degrees. He could feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck, great now he
was gonna smell like a pig on his first day of school…. Ok so he’d be lying if
he said he wasn’t nervous. Maybe he didn’t give a fuck about it, but it  was
his first day of highschool, a milestone. He carefully fished his earbuds out
of his jacket pocket slipping them into his ears.
At moments like these he had to wonder if he’d lived a normal life what would
be different?  If he had real parents would they drop him off in front of the
school? Would he want them to? Would he be embarrassed to be seen with them for
completely normal reasons like social anxiety? Would his brother have given him
advice on what to do his first day? Would he have good grades like he did when
he lived with… his mother… or would he be a moderate student. He pressed play
and Five Finger Death Punch drowned out all his other thoughts.
The bus pulled up after a few moments. Jimmy didn’t bother turning off the
music. Harder to hear the whispers.
He ducked his head and climbed into the vehicle, his heavy black boots very
likely echoing on the metal steps announcing his presence to the bus full of
his peers.  He kept his eyes trained on the ground till he stood at the head of
the aisle. He tried not to look at their faces just the amount of people in
each seat. The bus was fairly full. He kept his gaze vacant as he walked
towards the middle of the bus and squeezed in next to a skinny kid who was
doing his best to stare out the window. His kind of company. Jimmy slung his
backpack around as he sat pressing the backpack a barrier between them.
He didn’t bother speaking or asking the kid his name. He was trying equally as
hard to not be addressed. He raised the volume to near painful levels and just
flipped up his hood. Maybe he’d be able to fall asleep for a bit.
***
Maybe he was just a tiny bit excited to start this new chapter in his life as
the bus approached the entrance to the school he found himself looking over the
kid’s shoulder trying to get a glimpse of his future. The building exterior was
red brick. The entrance way was a large archway, but the busses pulled past the
student entrance that led out to the student parking lot and turned around the
back of the school. This entrance was less impressive, just metallic overhangs
to protect the waiting kids from the rain.  He stepped off the bus, hood down,
earbuds out. Signs posted in front of the student door had homeroom class
assignments, from there the teachers would hand out individual class
assignments. Jimmy didn’t even know what classes he was signed up for. There
were four sections pinned up on poster board. Neon green for seniors, a
highlighter yellow for the juniors, electric blue for sophomores and painfully
bright pink for the freshman. He stood towards the back, he had no interest in
pushing his way towards the front so that he could see his class number.
He waited till the heard of people in front of his thinned out before he
skimmed the list for his name. It wasn’t there. Figures.
He took a deep breath and turned and searched the mass of students for someone
that looked like an authority figure.
The man he spotted looked like a football coach. He wore a tight fitting white
polo shirt black slacks and  the school mascot, a blue panther, on his hat.
Jimmy took a deep breath before hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder.
This was fine.
He approached the man who was directing traffic of the students around him.
“Hey?” Jimmy called out.
The man’s dark brown eyes swung to him. He took in his black clothes and
eyeliner swiftly, his expression immediately turning vacant.
“Can I help you?” he asked a bit of judgement creeping into his tone. Great
already making friends and influencing others.
“I don’t have a class assignment.” he muttered.
“You new here?” the man asked. Jimmy arched a brow cocking his head to the side
as if to say yeah no shit, but he kept his words to himself
“Yeah.” he replied his fingers idly  caressing the strap to his bag on his
shoulder.
“What’s your last name?”
“Novak” he supplied. Already losing interest.
“Go to the office, and your counselor will check on your assignment.”
He continued clearly dismissing him.
“Where’s that?” he asked annoyed.
The man didn’t reply just gestured past the glass doors, in the vague direction
of the building.
“Yeah thanks.” Jimmy shot back unenthused, turning towards the door.
The inside of the school was blessedly cool compared to the sweltering heat.
The entrance came in just past the cafeteria to his left. The offices directly
in front of him.  
The cafeteria was blocked from view by those weird thick glass blocks.
Somewhere someone thought that was aesthetically pleasing.
A younger thin bald man snapped his fingers at him try to catch his attention.
Jimmy stepped up to him.
“What's your name?” he asked. He was looking at him with disdain. Clearly
labeling him in his head.
“Jimmy Novak.”
“Breaking dress code. Go to the office.” he snapped gesturing towards his
destination.
“Already headed that way.” he muttered resolutely.
The man nodded his name tag said VP Smith. His time at this school was gonna be
great.
The office was enclosed by glass walls in the waiting room that led to further
enclosed offices.
The staff in the office glanced up when he entered and immediately glanced back
down save the woman behind the desk, she was a larger middled age’d woman with
glasses who had brown hair that was teased to within an inch of its life.
Apparently everything was bigger in Texas.
A collection of snowglobes littered the lower side of her desk.
“I’m here for my class assignment.”
“What’s your name.”
“Jimmy Novak.” he supplied again barely refraining from rolling his eyes. He
should get a name tag.
“Your counselor is Ms. Turner. She’s with a student.”
Apparently that meant sit your ass down and wait, because she stopped looking
at him and went back to looking at the table.
Jimmy stood on tiptoe to peer slightly over the counter. A paperback novel was
tucked tightly in her hands.
He shrugged and sat in the chair.
He only listened to the music for a few moments before a woman stepped out of
her office.
She was petite he was a good head taller than her even with her heels, she wore
a smooth black dress that contrasted her bright blonde hair and blue eyes, and
pink lipstick.
“Jimmy Novak to see you the woman behind the desk called out.”
Jimmy squared his shoulders tucking his earbuds in his pocket.
He followed the woman into her office, he  flinched when she shut the door
closing them in together.
She walked from behind him his skin prickling, he was breaking out in sweat
again.
She sat at her desk and typed on her computer briefly.
He glanced around the room so he wouldn't have to look at her. Her degrees hung
on the wall, next to a little plaque that read best counselor. It made him want
to gag. A little side table tucked into the corner of the room held a potted
plant and a picture of her family. Her, her husband and two little boys. Maybe
seven and four?
“You’re a transfer student from Montana right.” she asked he turned back to
her.
“Mississippi most recently, actually.” he supplied licking his lips glad for
the distance between them the desk provided.
She clicked her mouse a few times frowning.
Must have seen the drop in his GPA between Montana and Mississippi. It was
actually kind of liberating not giving a shit after being terrified about any
drop in score for so long.
She glanced up at him. Taking him in. Seeing the battered hoodie, the eyeliner
that tried and failed to hide the dark circles under his eyes.
“I’m a bit concerned in the drop in your GPA.” she admitted
“Have your parents talked to you about needing glasses or perhaps tutoring”
“Foster…” he corrected. “ and yeah, they mentioned it.”
Something clicked into place on her face as he said it. There it was the
knowledge that something was wrong with him.
“But I’m actually here just for my class assignment.”  he continued dismissing
her interest. He did not want to see this woman anymore than he had too. He
couldn't decide if the resemblance was as uncanny as he thought or if he was
just being overly sensitive. His shrink said there would be a period of
adjustment, but that was what two shrinks ago?  
He was on the edge of his seat as she shifted in hers.
“Says you took honor classes back in Montana” she murmured.
“What happened?” she asked she was trying to be nice objectively he knew it,
but that didn’t stop his skin from crawling. He could picture his mother saying
it in the exact same way silently judging him, soft spoken, lulling him in for
the kill.
He swallowed thickly his throat feeling constricted.
“Guess I got dumber.” he snarked
She frowned again. Her brow wrinkling.
“You know eyeliner on men is against dress code.” she wasn’t being critical,
just informing him of the facts.
“Yeah I’ve been told, I'll take it off after this.”  he agreed anything to get
out of this tiny room with this woman. He was getting claustrophobic.
“Are you taking drugs?” she asked. He laughed surprised by her candor, guess he
had the one counselor who actually gave a damn lucky him. The last guy he had
at his other school he saw the man once, and that was purely by accident.
She must have taken his laugh as distrust versus pure situational amusement.
“It’s ok this is a safe space.”
“ Just my prescribed antidepressants.” he sneered melodically. “Why? you want
one?”  he asked with false cheer.
She frowned again.
“Look can I just get my homeroom?” he asked not caring that he was being rude.
She turned back to her computer and clicked away for a few moments. Before the
printer behind her whirled.
She stood and he stiffened.
She stepped up to him handing him a piece of paper.
He took it in his numb fingers, his hands were shaking. He didn’t bother to
look at it almost afraid to take his eyes off her.
“You can come to me if you need anything.” she began.
She sat her hand on his shoulder.
He leapt out of his seat the heavy wooden chair falling back in his haste.
“Don’t you touch me!” he screeched, jerking his shoulder away so fast he
clipped her hand with his elbow. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“Don't you  fucking  touch me!” he shouted pressing the words with all the
force he possessed.
And rather than look angry she looked contrite. Jimmy didn’t want pity, it
burned him. He grabbed his bag and spun to the door.
He swung open the door and ran smack into the Vice Principal.
Jimmy tried to shove past him. The man stepped out his way with a grunt.
“Where do you think you're going?” he demanded. He was angry. Jimmy could tell
by the pulse of the vein on the side of his neck.
He was standing between him and his counselor.
“First period.” he shot back glancing at the clock it was after eight, everyone
would already be in class.
His heart was roaring in his ears.
“Get back here?” he shouted. Ms. Turner was actively trying to catch his
attention clawing at his arm but the man wasn't listening.
“Eat me.” Jimmy tossed back. He needed to get out of there he didn’t want to
throw up in front of that many people, but he could already taste the sting of
bile on the back of his throat.
“You're on suspension.” the Vice Principal called out, as Jimmy hit the door.
He barely heard him, his world was narrowing.
“Good.” he shouted back.
He hurried down the hall till he found a bathroom. He didn’t make it into one
of the stalls. He retched into the sink his body shaking. His vision was
swimming, tears leaking past his defense smearing his eyeliner. The blood
pounding in his ears.  He ran the water.
“Damn it.” he whispered. Spitting bile into the sink.
She wasn’t her. None of them were her, why did this have to keep happening?  He
closed his eyes clenching the cabinet for support. Someone stepped out of the
stall  he open his eyes they were looking at him as he leaned heavily on the
sink. Their eyes wide.  In his haste he’d gone into the girl’s restroom. She
was older than he was maybe a junior or senior. Long brown hair, glasses, she
looked a bit like his mental picture of moaning myrtle which he supposed was
appropriate.
“Hangover.” he supplied at her scandalized face catching her eye in the mirror
versus looking at her.
She said nothing only hurried from the room.
Jimmy washed his face, rinsing his mouth out spitting several times before he
left the room. He didn’t care. He took his time.
Campus security were waiting for him. Honestly he thought they were
overreacting really. At least they didn’t cuff him or something like that. Just
escorted him,back to the office.
His foster mother was there talking to both the Vice Principal. His heart sank.
They were telling them the truth, he could see from the VP’s expression as his
angry bulging eyes slowly went wide, disgust and horror crossing his face.
 They glanced his way pity on their faces, it made him watch to retch all over
again.
Jimmy stepped into the office. The guards turned away having properly deposited
him.
No one was meeting his eye. Including his foster mother. They all felt sorry
for him.
She was wearing her mauve pantsuit, she was a realtor, she left work for this.
“Jimmy.” the Vice Principal finally acknowledged with a nod.
“In light of new information. I’m remitting your suspension.”
Were they serious?
Jimmy glared.  “No.”
They stared at him as if he’d lost his mind and maybe he had.
“I shoved a teacher,” he murmured. They said nothing looking at their toes
“I used prohibited language… I’m breaking dress code.”
“And we all understand the cause.” the counselor. Insisted softly almost
redoubling her efforts to be his new best friend. Great.
“Under the circumstances, we don’t think suspension is warranted.”  the Vice
Principal continued.
“The circumstances being my mother fucked me is that what you mean?” he
demanded. They flinched. He thought so.
He wasn’t sure why he was angry, but it was boiling over in the back of his
brain. Their obvious pity stung him, he didn’t fucking want their pity. Screw
them.
He moved quickly picking up a snow globe off the secretary's desk. It was from
Milwaukee. He wasn't sure why anyone would want a snow globe from Milwaukee he
was doing her a favor.
 They all watched him as he hefted the heavy globe.
He chucked the object at the glass wall. The snow globe shattered sending glass
fragments everywhere, the wall didn’t shatter,but a large divot fell out of it
cracking the entire pane.
They were all staring at him aghast, mouths open, eyes wide expressions a
mixture of dismay and surprise.
“Is it warranted now?”
***
Present
Cas woke up in pain. It was early, he knew because it was still dark out. He
lay absolutely still on the bed, in the dark and ran a quick inventory. There
were a lot of things he didn’t know right now so he focused on what he did
know. He still had some soreness around his ribs and his arm twinged when he
moved it. That meant his pills had worn off. He knew that by the fucking
headache that was pounding his way through his skull. He was at Dean’s place,
he recognized the nice sheets and the subtle scent of his cologne. He wasn’t
sure exactly what day it was, but he thought it might be Saturday.
 He knew that he’d woken up several times since he came home from the hospital.
He tried to remember how many times he took his pills, or ate meals, anything
to help him discern what day it was. Blanks. He wasn’t sure if it was the pills
the head injury or both but his short term memory was shot to shit.
He did remember that last few times he took his pills he’d convinced Dean to
give him a half pill… it was probably the first time in his life he ever turned
down drugs, but he hated the way they made him feel.
The pain was too intense to forgo them altogether, still he would wake up in
the middle of the night, in pain, if he only took  half a tablet before bed. He
didn’t tell Dean that. He disliked how worried the man already was about his
health. The last few days he kept pushing back the amount of pills he took.  He
felt confused enough without them.
He didn’t remember the hospital. Sure he had flashes of nurses and doctors. He
remembered burning pain in his chest, but it was all just flashes. The first
thing he remembered clearly was maybe yesterday.  Sam and Dean sitting with him
on the sofa, telling him what happened to him. He was assaulted.They told him
it wasn’t the first time he’d heard the information he could tell by the way
they spoke he should have know, but it was the first time anything stuck. He
knew it was Malik who did it. He didn’t have any memory of the attack, but it
was the only thing that fit.
He also noticed  he wasn't the only one with an injury. When he finally ‘saw’
Dean’s hand, he knew Dean went after him, but he wouldn't talk about it, and
Cas wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the truth. He knew Dean treated him
differently. He acted like he was made of glass. Tried to help him walk, or eat
his food. It grated against his nerves. Dean had never treated him as if
something was wrong with him. Objective he knew he’d been seriously hurt, but
it wasn’t the first time in his life he’d been knocked down a peg.
He had trouble accepting help from others. Especially when he needed it. Dean
might have thought he was helping Cas before, but they had always been equals.
Now Cas wasn’t so sure.
 Cas knew because of that he wasn’t the best patient. He hated to be taken care
of. He fought Dean on taking his pills. He fought him on eating his meals at
set times. He fought him on dressing himself. He wasn’t going to let Dean dress
him, or help him into the shower or worse walk him to the toilet. The world
might feel like a tilt-a-whirl but he was gonna manage it on his own, he didn’t
want help.
He was staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. It felt like that was all he
had been doing for the past week. Eating, sleeping, taking his pills. Staring
off into space trying to hold on to the jumble of his thoughts as they spiraled
down into some dark part of himself. It was hard staying distracted and at the
same time he could not focus. He couldn't watch tv without getting a headache
from looking at the screen. The eye strain. Dean had to keep reminding him of
it. For some reason it kept slipping away from him. He tried to play a game
with Sam and Dean. In hindsight Scrabble might have been a bit too challenging,
but it was frustrating when he would stare at the tiles knowing he had a word
but being unable to move it into place. Everything felt distant, he had to push
through a dense fog to reach anything.
It was stuffy in his bedroom. He kicked the sheets off him, but it didn’t
really help.
 He just needed to get some air. He swung out of bed wobbling as he tried to
stand barely catching himself against the nightstand. Positive that Dean
wouldn’t approve of him hitting his head again. Especially considering how easy
it was to get another concussion during his recovery period.
He had to sit back down to pull on his pants. He didn't bother with a shirt. It
was too awkward to find the right position to get his cast into it.
He wobbled into the living room. Sam was sleeping on the sofa. He was
surprised. He’d thought he was staying in Dean’s room. He ignored the jealousy
he felt at the thought of them curled up together.
He creeped past him and towards the patio. He just needed some fresh air.
He gently pulled open the glass door to the patio. The fresh air he received
came with more of a bite than he’d expected. The cold air burned his lungs.
He shivered. Stepping out onto the terrace. Only then remembering he was
barefoot.
He sat heavily in one of Dean’s white deck chairs because it was harder to
stand than he expected.
He was staring out over the city.He still wasn’t sure what time it was, but the
city was sleeping. He could hear the pulse of traffic further out, the sound of
cars moving and the wind only one or two cars crawled through the street
nearby, it was mostly empty.
Cas found himself oddly disturbed by how different everything was between Dean
and Sam. They made goo goo eyes at each other all day, flirting, holding hands
on the sofa. He didn’t notice at first, but in his defense he didn’t notice
much of anything at first.He could barely put his damn pants on let alone pick
up on social cues. Cas clenched the arm of the chair. He was happy for Dean, he
truly was, but he couldn't help but feel he missed out on his chance to have
something he’d never experienced before.
 He hated being helpless. Depending on others. He was worried. He still had a
bit of recovery left. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, he was fucking
useless, but he couldn't leave, not yet. Maybe he was just cynical, but Dean
didn’t need him anymore. He had Sam. Why would he want him to stay once he was
able to leave?
Sure Dean said he was his friend that he wanted him there, but that was before.
Before all this. Before he had to fucking baby him, before things changed
between him and Sam. He was excited that Dean had someone he was just
disappointed that he was the invalided third wheel. When he could have been so
much more. He refused to take Dean’s pity.
The sliding glass door opened behind him.
“Mind if I join you?”  Sam asked sticking his head out the door bundled in the
large blue blanket.  Cas glanced up surprised. He hadn’t meant to wake him.
Cas shrugged noncommittally.
“What you doing out here? Sam asked after a moment he settled into the chair
across from him.
“Came for a smoke.” Cas shot out sarcastically. That was exactly what his lungs
needed.
Sam cocked his head to his side studying him.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
He shrugged again.
“Pills wore off.” he admitted.
Sam’s brows came together his expression pinched.
“Do you need to take more?” Sam asked.
Cas shrugged again indifferently.
“I’ll let you know.” he murmured. They settled into an awkward silence. Their
breath fogging up the air before them.
“What day is it?” Cas asked after a moment. He wasn’t sure if it mattered, but
he was trying to cling to any facts he knew.
“Saturday… no technically Sunday morning.”  Sam continued.
Cas nodded absorbing the information. He’d lost almost a week to this, but
somehow it felt like much longer.
“How are you doing?” Sam asked. He was studying him. It always unnerved him how
observant Sam was. Somehow he knew that it was more than just his lack of sleep
that brought him here.
“Fine, I'll be out of your hair in no time.” he quipped. He’d been aiming for
light teasing, but he’d missed his mark and just sounded bitter.
Sam frowned. “What are you talking about?” he wondered.
Cas crossed his arms across his bare chest. He was freezing, but the cold gave
him something he’d been missing. Clarity.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” he continued sheepishly.
Sam was still frowning.
“You’re more than welcome here Cas.”  his eyes were concerned and soft, like
giant doe eyes. It was almost enough for Cas to believe him.
He sniffed in response. He didn’t wanna out right call the man a liar.
“Let's get you inside.” Sam said suddenly. He was shaking, he realized.
“I’m fine.” he insisted stubbornly.
Sam shook his head before tossing his own blanket over him. Cas didn’t say
anything in response. Sam wore a blue tank and grey pants. He knew Sam was
right, but he also was having trouble coming to turns with his current frailty.
 Cas shrugged. “I’m fine.” Cas said again at Sam’s persistent frown.
“You almost died.” Sam reminded him chidingly.
“Yeah and two weeks ago not a single soul would have given a fuck.” He spat
out.
He sat there absorbing Sam’s warmth from the blanket for several moments.
“Are you mad Dean cares?” Sam wondered  “or do you think he doesn’t?” it was
clear he was getting agitated.  
“I don’t know!” he shouted his emotions a tangled ball. “Maybe?”  he admitted.
Sam was watching him. He was beginning to shiver himself now.
Cas knew he should just go inside. He was overreacting. He wasn’t sure what he
was feeling.
“I don’t want your pity.” he admitted finally. “ Dean’s either.”  he added.
“I’ve been on my own a long time, I can take care of myself.”
Sam was staring at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Dean doesn't pity you, he feels sorry that something happened to you.”
“Same thing. I hate it” he continued firmly.
“Why do you hate it?” Sam asked he was studying him again. It felt like he was
looking right through him. He’d never really thought of that before
It took him several moments to answer as he gathered up the shattered fragments
of his thoughts.
“Because people dismiss me and just see what happened to me. They think I'm
less than what I am, they boil me down till I don't exist. I’m just this
terribly tragic thing that happened to me.”
“Do you think that’s how Dean is treating you?” Sam asked surprised he was
leaning forward his hands resting on his knees.
“I think Dean feels guilty,”  Cas spat out. “So he’s taking care of me.”
Sam didn’t reply proving his point.
“I’m going inside.” Cas finally murmured.
Sam caught him by the shoulder as he crossed the threshold Cas whirled losing
his balance.
Sam caught him before he fell to the ground and released as soon as he was
righted.
Cas was backing up shaking as he stepped away. He wasn't triggered, but he
still felt off kilter. His emotions a swirling turmoil.
“Dean does feel guilty.” Sam admitted.
“ But not in the way you seem to think.” Sam continued advancing.
 Cas couldn't decide if he felt threatened, or not.
“He feels guilty that he couldn’t protect you.” Sam said pressing forward.
Cas paused.
“That’s not his job” he muttered half angry half confused.
Sam chuckled bitterly.
“Yeah try telling him that.” Sam replied sullenly.
Cas wasn’t sure what to say. He swayed as he stood. The door was still open
behind Sam.
“Dean doesn't want you to leave.” Sam told him.
Cas’s throat felt thick. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“So could you cut him some slack?” Sam asked.
Cas shrugged again.
“Sorry.”  he replied his eyes downcast. He was looking at his toes.
Sam’s eyes softened. He seemed to regret his outburst.
“I don’t know how.” he admitted. Cas stood his good arm clenched at his side.
Sam turned to close the door.  He moved towards the sofa sitting heavily before
indicating Cas to join him.
Cas took a deep breath, before sitting.
“What don’t you know how to do?” Sam asked he was listening his expression was
unguarded and open, he wanted to help him.
“ Trust people.” he admitted.
Sam’s eyes softened but it wasn’t pity, it was understanding.
“It’s hard.” he agreed.
He didn’t ask why Cas had trouble trusting, he didn’t question why, he agreed
with him.
“How do you do it?” Cas asked studying Sam. His soft hazel eyes, his long hair
brushing the nape of his neck.  He was physically much larger than Cas, which
was why he thought he originally had such problems with him, but their knees
were touching now and he could still breathe.
“ I don’t do it often.” Sam continued, there was something distant in his
expression.
“But I trust Dean.”
“And you think I should too?”
Sam shrugged.
“That’s up to you, but you can’t go through life trusting no one.”
“Why not?” he asked defensively.
“For one it's exhausting, no place to call home, no person to care about, never
letting your guard down.”
Cas had to admit the weekend with Sam and Dean was the best time in his life.
It sounded stupid. Like he was exaggerating but he wasn't.
He’d been exposed. He’d never shared that part of himself with anyone. He’d
taken off his mask. He’d worn it so long it was almost hard to remember what he
was like without it.
He told Dean the truth and rather than feel shamed or disgusting he felt
vindicated  it wasn’t his fault, what she did to him.
Yet when it mattered, when he needed help, when he needed to trust someone he’d
stood alone, and gotten his ass handed too him.
“Secondly, all relationships are built on trust, but just because someone
violated your trust doesn't mean everyone will.”
Cas bit his lip.
“And if he does?” Cas asked.
Sam fowned as if deep in thought, before he responded.
“Kick him in the nads, that usually helps me.”
A startled laugh slipped past him and he couldn’t stop. He laughed lying back
against the sofa his laughter gripping him. After a few moments he coughed
painfully till his breathing settled.
 “Thanks.” he muttered. “I needed that pep talk.”
He lay his head back against the rim of the sofa. Eyes closed. Listening to the
darkness.
Sam was watching Cas as he lay back against the sofa catching his breath.
“Wanna split a pill with me?” Cas asked.
Sam’s heart skipped a beat. It felt like all the blood drained from his body.
Cas’s eyes were still closed. He couldn't see the panicked expression on his
face.
“I figure half a pill would be enough to get us both back to sleep.”  he
offered eyes still closed.
Sam knew he meant no harm by the offer, Dean had never told him about his
problem.
He didn’t know the position his offer put him in.
He should tell him now. The words were on the tip of his tongue.
Can’t I’m a recovering addict, and yet they wouldn't come.
For all his great words about trust and admitting when you needed help, he
wanted that pill.
It had taken every ounce of his control to leave them in the bottle at the
pharmacy. He wanted to feel it again. Things were better with Dean, that was
true, but it still hurt. Life hurt.
He hadn’t been asleep when Cas stepped out onto the terrace.
He been lying in the dark, thinking. He had to work Monday, and already he was
dreading it. It seemed easier somehow. To cling to his inability to sleep. To
stay awake because if he fell asleep he was that much closer to  Sandover. It
was this sore in the back of his brain, that stung when he tried to lance it.
He tried to be happy. He should be happy. Something he’d wanted most of his
adult life had happened Dean said he loved him.
He stupidly thought it would fix everything. It was a pipe dream. Everything
had been leading up to it. He placed all his hope in Dean’s hands and he made
him happy.  He’d been happy, he should stay happy, but Dean was right. You
couldn’t put your happiness off on another person.
He wanted it to be easy, he was tired of struggling with his depression. He was
tired of feeling numb and in pain. It felt like he’d been fighting to stay
happy his entire life. It never lasted, except when he was high.
“Sure.”  he agreed. What was one pill? He could could take one pill just to
take the edge off. Just to fall asleep.
When he was high that was all there was. He could hold onto happiness, because
everything else was out of his head.
“I’ll be right back.” he told him as he padded towards the bathroom.
It didn’t take him long to find the pills. Dean hadn’t hid them. He left them
in the medicine cabinet.
He caught a glance of himself in the mirror. The light was off he hadn't wanted
to wake Dean. So it was hard to see, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness.
Desperate might be a word to describe him.  Pathetic might be another.
His hands shook as he opened up the bottle. There were several half pills in
the bottle Cas had cut down his intake. Dean had been the one in charge of Cas
getting his pills, but Sam payed attention.
He’d counted every pill Cas took covetously.
He did it without thinking.
Opened the bottle taking out a single pill before setting the bottle back on
the cabinet
He popped one of the pale orange pills in his mouth
He slammed  his fist down on the cabinet his head tilted back as he swallowed
without the aid of water.  
He hands were shaking. He couldn't believe that he’d done that.
He took the bottle in his hand tipping it till three halves of the pills slid
into his hand placing the remaining pills with some difficulty back in the
bottle and plastered a smile on his face. He took an additional half for good
measure. 15 mgs was a safe starting dose. The trick was taking less than 1 gram
of acetaminophen.  It was not a good idea to take more than 1500 to 2000mg of
acetaminophen  at one time and a bad idea to go over 3000 mg in 24 hours. He
usually tried to stay to the lower end.
Cas gratefully took the half a pill Sam did the same. Stepping into the kitchen
to get Cas a glass of water.
They took their medicine.
“Wanna tuck me in?” Cas asked playfully
He didnt wanna admit that he was feeling weak and tired.
Sam nodded. His expression was pinched again. He seemed lost in thought.
  Cas leaned on him more than he wanted to admit as they walked back to the
bedroom.
Cas crawled into bed and lay flat on his back. Sam was at the door when he
spoke up.
“Wanna stay in here?” he asked.
Sam turned back his expression was very hard to read.
“At least until the meds kick in?” Cas asked. He took Sam’s words to heart and
told the truth.
“I don’t want to be alone…”
“I had a bad dream.” he felt like a little kid saying the words aloud.
Sam hesitated. He licked his lips.
It was stupid. He knew better.
“Don't worry about it.”  he called out rolling to place his back to him.
“No it’s fine.” Sam insisted. He heard him move towards the bed. So that he
could sit behind him.
“Do you wanna tell me about it?” Sam asked.
“Not really.” he admitted. It was less of actually memories but the pervasive
sense of wrongness that came after his mother left him in his room alone in the
dark. The dream had all but evaporated just that wrongness remained. He didn't
want to be alone.
“Tell me something.” he asked.
Sam scooted closer to him. Cas waited for his touch to make him jump. He was
aware of him, he could feel his warmth even through the blanket, but he didn’t
want to run away.
“Like what?” Sam wondered.
Cas shrugged.
“Anything.”   
He could feel Sam thinking it was almost palpable as he felt him lay down
beside him. What is it about talking in the dark that makes honesty easier?
“I hate my job.” Sam admitted.
“I hate waking up every morning putting on the damn canary yellow polo and
going to a job that is slowly destroying my soul.”
“Try being homeless.” Cas quipped but it was all surface. He knew his pain was
no more meaningful than Sam’s . It was bullshit to think that just because
someone had it worse than you that your life doesn't suck. That was the beauty
of it. Everybodies life sucked. Some people’s lives might suck more but doesn't
make yours suck any less.  
“Or gay in the south.” Sam added.
Cas laughed. He could relate there.
“Or a cutter.” Cas commented rolling on his back. Plopping his arm on Sam’s
chest the scars from his most recent bout of cutting had healed into pink
lines.
Sam traced them with his fingertips and Cas found himself strangely  aware of
the other man.
“Or suicidal”  Sam replied.
Cas sat up trying to peer through the darkness. Trying to look into his face.
“How would you do it?” he wondered.
“Fist full of pills.” Sam admitted he had his arm tossed over his eyes.
“You?” Sam asked.
“What makes you think I’ve been suicidal?” he demanded his senses prickling.
People always thought it was true that after his mother he’d wanna off himself.
“ Because people don’t ask that question unless they have their own answer, or
are looking for one.”
Cas could feel his pill kicking in but it seemed to be affecting Sam more than
it was him. Maybe he’d built up a tolerance in the hospital.
“I tried once.”  he admitted.
“In hindsight I’m glad someone stopped me because that would have hurt like a
bitch and probably would have just maimed me.”
“How?”
“Was gonna walk out in front of a car.”
He felt Sam nod.
“It wasn't  because of my mother.” he insisted.
Sam pulled his hand away from his eyes so he could meet his eyes.
“Why then?” he wondered. His voice sounded different. He sounded more relaxed
his expression distant.
“Because of my brother.” he admitted.
Sam flopped over on his side his holding up his head in the palm of his hand.
“You have a brother?” he asked.
Cas didn’t really reply he just continued.
“He didn’t believe me.”  he was staring at a non-existent spot on the wall.
 That had been it for him. He knew he would never get saved and no one really
cared about him. He’d held out hope that Gabriel loved him, but he’d been
wrong.
It had been May last week before school let out for summer and Gabriel moved
out. Cas told him the truth and he still moved out. He didn’t believe him, and
he was going to be left alone all summer with her.
It had seemed the best option at the time. He’d been standing on the sidewalk
waiting for her to come pick him up and take him home, when something just
snapped.  
He’d run out into the road, right in front of a truck. A Crossing guard pulled
him out of the way he fell skinned his whole left side.  They sent him to the
school nurse.
The crossing guard hadn’t seen him before.
,but she had. She knew. She’d asked him why he did it. Why he didn't want to go
home, he couldn't tell her, but she never let it go.
Sam was feeling it. The warmth, the peace. He’d missed this so much. Cas was
tense beside him. Sam had already forgotten what they were talking about, but
he couldn't see the tenseness in his shoulders.
“Can I touch you? “He asked. As he joined Cas sitting up. Only just
remembering.
Cas frowned.
“Yeah??” he agreed hesitantly
Sam wrapped his arms around the kid pulling him close pressing him against his
chest.
Cas was startled by the hug but didn’t resist as Sam’s arms entirely enveloped
him. He could hear his rapid heartbeat.
“Hey… hey.. It’s alright it's ok.”  he assured patting his back.
Cas laughed.
“You are a cheep date.” he teased. The little bit of hydrocodone clearly went
to Sam’s head.
Still it was nice being comforted.
“I think you need to go back and lay down on the couch.” Cas said finally. He
could handle he hugs but not sure he’d be ok with whatever else high Sam might
want.
Sam nodded.
“Good idea.”  
“And we keep tonight just between us.” Cas insisted. He didn't think Sam would
remember the bit about his brother now that he thought about it but he didn't
want to talk about it.
“Oh yeah sure.” Sam agreed.
Sam stumbled back to the sofa. Enjoying the pull of the drug. Oxy never really
made him sleepy but it seemed that Hydo did. He still felt that same euphoric
bliss, but now he wasn't afraid of tomorrow.
Objectively he knew he should be. Dean would forgive Cas for giving him the
pills. He didn't know any better Sam did, but right now he didn’t care. Didn't
want to care about anything.
Chapter End Notes
     on a interesting note I've been googling drugs and dosages and
     medical stuff so much I'm getting adds for doctors study aids and
     addiction help lines to call.
     This chapter was brought to you by the band Bush. namely the songs
     comedown, and the chemicals between us
     I noticed that I'd miscalculated some of the time so I fixed
***** Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic
*****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING. Drugs
     I want to thank everyone who has made this journey with me.
     especially those who have commented on this story. seeing your
     comments keeps me writing. keeps me motivated on the story I want to
     tell.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Wake up sleeping beauty. Rise and shine, Sammy!”  Dean called throwing the
pillow from the sofa into his face.
Sam jerked against the impact groaning. His stomach was hurting. He knew better
than to take a dose without something in his stomach.
He could hear Dean milling about in the kitchen.
“How do you feel about bacon and eggs?” he called out he could hear him opening
the fridge.
“You're in a good mood.” he mumbled from beneath the pillow, not wanting to
expose his face to Dean just yet. Last night he’d slipped up. He should tell
Dean. Dean would help him. Dean was humming, and singing Ramble On beneath his
breath.
“And now’s the time, the time is now… to sing my song.”
“Since when do you even buy bacon?” Sam wondered bemused
“Its vegetarian bacon.” Dean called back.
Sam chuckled
“Is it even legally allowed to call itself bacon if it’s not made of meat?” Sam
asked playfully.
“You're not getting me down on a technicality. I’m having bacon and eggs!” he
continued enthusiastically.
“With my boyfriends.” he added seemingly pleased with himself.
Sam could wait. He decided… till after breakfast, to ruin Dean’s day.  He sat
up as Cas entered.
“Then if this is Sunday brunch can I get a Mimosa?” Cas asked as he wobbled
into the room.  He was wearing his black jeans, and he had struggled to put on
a black t-shirt.
The bruise on his cheek was nearly gone. A slight bit of eyeliner rimmed his
eyes, but it wasn’t as neat as he usually did it.
Sam shot Dean a look. He was wearing his Kansas shirt with a dark colored plaid
shirt tossed casually over it.
“You’ll have to just be happy with virgin Mimosas.” Dean said with a laugh.
“So I’m drinking regular orange juice like a savage?” he continued with mock
affront.
“ at least lend me some vodka, I can make a screwdriver or I’ll even accept.
tequila and some grenadine…”
Dean frowned slightly sobering slightly.
“Cas you can’t drink.”
Cas’s expression clouded
“Why not?” he wondered. “I thought we gotten past the whole legal age limit
thing.”
“Your head injury.” Sam supplied feeling the mood of the entire room shift down
a degree.
Cas closed his eyes nodding he’d forgotten about it again.
“Are we sure that’s real?” Cas asked.
“Because I’m pretty sure I can still drink.”  Cas insisted as he slowly slid
into the chair at the middle of the bar.
Dean grabbed his tablet, he’d been using it to look at a recipe online and
after a few clicks. Brought for a webpage, for Cas’s perusal. “Now don’t look
at the screen for too long you’ll give yourself a headache.” Dean warned.
“I remember.” Cas snapped irritably before softening.  “Thanks.”
Sam watched as Cas studied the tablet. His brows were drawn together as he
tried to focus his eyes on the screen.
Sam’s eyes shifted from Cas to Dean. Dean was watching Cas as well. He was
leaning on the bar. Torment plainly visible on his face. It killed him to see
Cas struggling.
He remembered that look directed at him. When he went to rehab.
“The doctor said at least three months, most of the websites say longer.” Dean
continued when Cas glanced away clearly losing interest.  
“Aye aye captain.” Cas murmured looking sullen.  After a moment he brightened.
“Then I get first dibs on the fake bacon.”
Sam smiled.
“Be my guest.” he wasn’t hungry. He knew he needed to eat, but he was feeling
sick. It had less to do with the small amount of  APAP in his system and more
to do with guilt.
“How does everyone want their eggs?” Dean asked.
“Whatever you want is fine.” Sam admitted turning away. He’d set an overnight
bag at the foot of the sofa he was going to go get dressed. He really wasn’t
sure why he was staying over every night. They weren’t having sex. After that
first time all they had done was hold hands and kiss, Sam was fine with that.
Dean was stressed with work and with Cas. He didn’t want to rush him, but he
also knew he couldn't share a bed with Dean platonically. At least not anymore.
Thus the sofa, but that left him feeling frustrated and sore every morning.
“Can you do a fried egg?” he heard Cas wonder as he left the room.
Sam decided he wanted to take a shower. He needed to clear the cobwebs from his
head. It only took him a matter of moments for shed his clothes like a snake
and step beneath the spray. He closed his eyes and the warm water seeped into
his skin. He felt cold and hollow in ways he hadn’t in a long time. He hadn’t
been going to the meetings, he wasn’t sure if he technically had a sponsor to
call, but he was sure there would be someone.
He knew he could can an addiction helpline anonymously and have someone talk
him through his mistake, but the problem was he wasn’t entirely sure it was a
mistake.
As insane as it sounded.
When he’d taken drugs before he’d been doing it to fill a hole in his life. So
he over indulged
That was the mistake.
Cas heard the water for the shower start to run.  Sam seemed to be in a weird
mood today, but then again he didn’t know the man that well maybe he was always
like this before a cup of coffee.
“Can I have caffeine?” Cas asked.
Dean was milling about in the kitchen in front of him. His back was facing Cas
as he continued to gather ingredients.  
“Not really.”  Dean admitted slowly.
Cas frowned.
“ Then what can I have?” he demanded annoyed.  
Dean turned towards him and plopped down the tall glass of orange juice.
Cas raised a brow at him, telling him clearly what he thought of his attempt at
humor.
Dean shrugged. “Most of it is temporary, while your brain heals.”
Cas nodded.
He sipped the juice accepting Dean’s constrictions for now, but he wasn’t going
to let the man baby him forever.
He watched as Dean broke two eggs into a small cup separating the whites from
the yolks tossing the yolks into a separate bowl.
Placing a pan of water and a griddle on the stove.  He added  a bit vinegar to
the water.
“Sammy! You’re getting scrambled eggs!” Dean called out.
He heard Sam shout a reply,but not exactly the words.  Cas wasn’t sure if it
was an inside joke between them or if they were just in sync.
He added two more full eggs to the bowl and a dash of milk stirring them.
It was clear that he was having difficulty with his injured hand.He was
clumsily holding the bowl in his cast right hand the best he could keeping it
cradled against his body. Using his left hand to stir.
“What happened to your hand?”  Cas asked.
Dean paused. His back was still to him he could see the tension in his
shoulders.
“I broke it.” he murmured numbly.
“On whose face?” Cas wondered. .
“Does it matter?” Dean wondered. His voice was soft, surprisingly vulnerable.
“I suppose not technically.” Cas agreed.   
“If you’re asking if I went after the man that did this to you the answer is
yes.” he continued resolutely.
He turned to face him.
“And I’d do it again.” his meaning somehow went deeper than just the words
conveyed. He fought to meet his eyes. Cas struggled against it finally
relenting.
Cas started at the connection. Feeling exposed.
“Yeah… well that was stupid.” Cas muttered breaking eye contact first.
“Sam expressed the same sentiment.” Dean agreed turning back towards the
griddle.   
“It's not your job to protect me.” Cas told him Dean ignore him.
“One or two?”
“Just one.”
He cracked the egg onto the griddle the egg hissed.
“How did you find me?”  Cas wondered.
“ They dropped you off near the hospital, they wanted to get found. From there
we called everyone.”
Cas nodded. There was something he was forgetting, something about that night.
It was sitting there on the tip of his tongue.
“Sunny side up or down?” he wondered.
Cas blinked quickly
“Whichever.”
Sam came back into the room he had he was toweling his hair dry, he wore blue
jeans and a blue grey button down.
 Dean laid the sunny side fried eggs before him as he turned back to pour the
scrambled eggs on the griddle.
“Can you give me a hand Sammy?” he asked.
Sam nodded.
“Make us some toast?”  Sam nodded.
Cas watched as they moved about the kitchen together it was a strange rhythm.
Cas felt a bit like a third wheel.
Dean finished up the eggs and bacon together. Using half the griddle for each.
He held the plate out to Cas so he could make the first choice.
Sam joined him. Dean piled the remaining bacon on his plate before gently
sliding the egg whites into the vinegar water bath.
“You made three different types of eggs?” Sam asked laughing he shrugged.
“Three different guys three different eggs, but either way we get bacon.”
Cas watched Sam roll his eyes beside him.
Dean stepped over to the plant by the window cutting a few sprigs off.
“Tarragon.” Dean supplied. As he fished the egg gently from the water turning
off the stove and placing his egg on the toast. Cas dug in spearing the egg
letting the yolk run.
Dean washed the leaves before sprinkling them over his poached egg.
Dean joined him sitting to his left.
It was nice.
They ate in companionable silence, eventually coming to the decision that the
bacon wasn’t too bad, but real bacon was better.
The entire time something nagged at the corners of his mind. It was on the
edges playing at coming forward but disappearing when he tried to reach it.  
Dean’s phone began ringing. He almost ignored it, but as he glanced at the
caller Id he realized that it was Cas’s Doctor.  
“Hello?” he answered stepping away from his breakfast. He didn’t want Cas to
hear what she might say.
“Hello Mr. Smith.” she paused
“How is Castiel?” she asked there was something in her tone that was more than
a professional curiosity.  
“He’s doing better.” he admitted as he took the call to his bedroom
“What’s this about doc is there something wrong with the tests?” he asked
He could tell she was hesitating.
“Would you be available to come to my office today?”  she asked him
There was something in her voice an uncertainty that he’d not heard from her
before.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed quickly.
He glanced at his watch it was just after ten twenty, he could be at the
hospital in thirty minutes.
“I can be there in half an hour. Can I ask what this is about?”
She paused, the lack of sound on the line was telling.
“It would be best if we discussed this in person.”
Dean bit his lip worriedly
“If this is about Cas’s payment, I’m handling it.”
“I’m sure you are Mr. Smith.”
Was there censure in her voice?  He couldn't tell.    
“This isn’t about that.”
“Ok, do I need to bring him?”
“No.” she insisted quickly, perhaps a bit too quick  “I think this matter is
better discussed alone.”
Dean tossed on his leather jacket. As he grabbed his keys from the top of his
desk.
He had no idea what the doctor wanted to talk to him about.
Cas and Sam were laughing at something Cas said when Dean entered the room.
Sam’s face instantly sobered when he saw his expression.
“Everything alright?” Sam asked.
“Yeah.” Dean assured.
“Just need to go sign some papers at the hospital.”
“Now?” Sam exclaimed surprised
Dean waved off his concern.
“Just a formality for billing, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
Sam nodded.
Dean paused as he reached the door.
“Can you handle giving Cas his pills?”  Dean asked.
They both knew it was a loaded question. Dean was no longer certain how many
pills there was supposed to be.  Cas had skipped taking some doses and taken
half doses other times.
Sam licked his lips.
“Yeah. you go.”  
Dean was looking at him. Trying to see into him.
“I’ve got it.” he insisted again.
Dean nodded walking out the door. He trusted him. He shouldn't have.
“What was that about?” Cas wondered.  Placing his dish in the sink. He was
getting more ambulatory, there was only a light hesitation in his steps.
“Nothing” Sam insisted.  Waving Cas off.
Cas just shrugged.
“Now what?” he wondered.
“Do you want your pill?” he asked.
Cas shrugged.
“Just a half, I already half think I’m addicted to them.” He agreed jokingly
 Sam paused.
“Yeah wouldn't want that.”
Sam was acting weird. Cas made his way over to the sofa. He was bored. He
wanted to watch some TV. It didn’t matter that it was going to give him a
headache, he’d take physical pain over boredom any day.
He plopped down a bit heavier than he meant to.
He flipped on the TV, he pulled up the dvr menu.
There was an episode of project runway, half loaded.
Had he ever watched the show?
Somehow something about it seemed familiar.
He loaded the episode.
Sam was in the bathroom. He popped two pills into his mouth. When he heard Cas
scream.
He nearly choked on the pills. He set the bottle down harder than he should
have. Several fell out onto the cabinet.
He ran into the living room. Cas was standing before the TV. remote in his
hand.
“Cas?” he asked uncertainly
The boy spun tears were in his eyes.
“I remember why I was there that night.”  he informed him his voice shaking.
Sam stepped up to him. As he watched him wobble.
“Hey it's ok.” he insisted pulling him into his arms. He forgot to verbalize
his intent, but in this instance it didn’t seem to matter Cas clung to him.
“We’ve got to find Kemp.” he said his face pressed into his chest. His words
hard to discern.
“It's my fault they got hurt, I need to know they are ok.”
 Sam nodded holding him.
“Ok will find them.”
***
  Once he arrived at the hospital it wasn’t hard to find the doctors office.
The lobby was probably the same as it was the night they found Cas, but Dean
found himself surprised when he had no memory of it. He went to the woman
sitting behind the desk and asked if she could direct him towards Dr. Cross’s
office. She gestured to the opposite side of the building than the ER. she must
have to walk quite a bit in between breaks or perhaps rarely use her office,
because she is perpetually in the ER. He found his stomach doing somersaults as
he was shone into her office, by one of the fellow doctors or a nurse. Even at
her request it took her a few moments to join him.
So he spent his time studying her office. It wasn’t very large. Just big enough
to hold her desk and bookshelf and chairs. Her decorations were sparse. It was
a clean and functional space. A small bookshelf with medical texts and one
small gold picture frame of two women hugging wearing black cap and gowns.  
Her desk was neat and free of clutter.
Her diplomas on the wall.   
Neat,straightforward, orderly
She entered the room. She was wearing her white lab coat over black slacks and
dress shirt.
A silver lotus necklace graced her neck.
She held a envelope in her hands. It was clear that it had been opened the
envelope was ripped slightly at the top.
“Mr. Smith.” she acknowledged. He stood when she entered the room.
“Have a seat.” she insisted.
Walking around the desk.
“What I have to talk to you about has put me in an ethical quandary.” she
admitted as she slid into her seat.
Dean was frowning at her.
“How long have you known Mr. Collins?” she asked steepling her fingers.
. There was suspicion on her face. She thought he might be guilty of something.
Dean felt his face heat up under her perusal.
“A little over a week.” he admitted.
Her eyes narrowed. She wanted more information than that.
“He was living on the streets, when I found him.”  something lit up in her
eyes. Something he said aligned with whatever it was she wasn't telling him.
“How did he get hurt?” she asked.
“His former drug dealer.” Dean continued.
“He confessed to the police.” Dean added to her scepticism.
She nodded softly.  
“What do you know of his past?” she continued more openly.
Now it was Dean’s turn for caution, he’d hurt Cas once before revealing the
truth.
“He ran away from foster care.”
She nodded again except this time she sagged forward slightly with a relief.
“Legally I am not allowed to give out information on patients.”
She began. Sliding the envelope across the table.
“But as Mr. Collins caregiver this might be something you can handle.”
Dean frowned uncertain.
He took the envelope rotating it. It was addressed to Dr. Cross in looping
script.
He retrieved the letter from the envelope. The letter was folded into crisp
thirds. The letterhead at the top of the page informed him that it came from a
law firm.  It was typed, but it was signed with the same pen at the bottom of
the page.
“What is this?” Dean asked confused. Why was she giving him a letter addressed
to her.
“Just read it.”
Dean turned his attention back to the page.
Dear Dr. Cross:
My name in Balthazar Roché. I am writing on behalf of my client Gabriel Novak.
We have reason to believe that the man in your care, Castiel Collins, is
actually my client’s missing brother James Novak. James has been missing for
nearly five years. During this time he had used multiple aliases one of which
being Castiel.We are not certain, if James left his temporary foster home on
his own accord or was coerced. All attempts to track or contact him directly in
the past have been rebuffed. My client seeks reunification.
On behalf of my client I implore you. Please impart any pertinent information
about Mr. Collins whereabouts directly to me.
Respectfully,
Balthazar Roché
  
His phone number and email were at the bottom of the letter. Dean glanced up
from the letter.
“Could this be true?”  he asked aghast.
Cas had never mentioned a brother, but it lined up with the facts that he had
told him. That he’d changed his name. That he’d ran away from his foster home
when he was fifteen.
The doctor turned the monitor of her computer towards him.  
The website was the national center for missing and exploited children.
The picture showed a young teen. Bright blue eyes. His hair was a sandy brown,
his expression vacant, uncaring. He wore a black hoodie and eyeliner rimmed his
eyes.
It was Cas alright. Before all the piercings, tattoos and hair dye.
“That picture is a yearbook picture from the year before James Novak went
missing.”
“It’s him” he agree.
The name next to the image read, James (Jimmy) Novak.  
“That was my conclusion as well.”  she agreed.
“What should I do?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It is possible that he hasn’t contacted his family for a reason, or it's
because he hasn’t gotten the messages. Either way. He needs someone in his
corner.”
Dean nodded surprised. He wasn’t looking at her. He was still looking at the
picture of Cas. he wondered how he would have felt if suddenly Sam went
missing. For years. Under circumstances that were questionable.
“What he doesn’t need right now is added stress.”  she counseled bringing his
attention away from the screen.
“You’re right.” He agreed shaking himself out of his reprieve.
“I’ll handle this,” he insisted taking the letter.
“Be careful.” The doctor insisted.
Dean turned back towards her unsure of her meaning.
She glanced down not meeting his eyes.
“From what I've seen people who have run in the past. Don’t always stop
running.”
***
Cas tried to remember Sky’s phone number, but for the life of him nothing came
to mind.
It was why people had fucking cellphones so they didn't have to remember shit
like that anymore. His hands were on his temples as if the pressure would
somehow help him remember.  Sam was watching him, it was clear that his
outburst bothered him,and if he was being honest it bothered him too, but it
had been so distressing the sudden memory it shook him to his core.  
He’d been in control of his emotions for a long time now. He’d been building up
his armor, his mask, his wall whatever you wanted to call it since he’d been a
child, but now it felt wrong.
His wall was crumbling and his mask no longer fit the same, his armor rusted.
“I can’t remember.” he admitted
Sam nodded.
“Do you know where they live?” Sam asked he was surprisingly relaxed. Once he’d
been able to calm Cas down he went back to bathroom and got Cas his pill but he
refused to take it. His head was pounding, his arm and ribs ached, but he
needed to focus.
“Kemp’s homeless.” Cas insisted. Pushing away Sam’s concern. He needed to
focus.
He’d been to Sky’s house once. If he could just remember where it was he could
probably find Kemp. If they were still…
Sam watched as Cas shook his head.
It was clear that he was pushing himself. Sam tried to get him to take his pill
it was clear that he was in pain the way his right hand kept snaking across his
body holding  his ribs on his left side.
He seemed unaware of the action.
Sam tried to soothe him, but it seemed the only thing that would allow him to
relax was finding his friend.
“I think I know where to go.” Cas finally said.
“I know where their partner lives.”
Sam nodded.
“Let's go.”
***
Dean couldn't go home, not before he knew what to do about Cas. So he went to
the office. It was Sunday, but he had no problem getting in. His alarm code got
him into the building and up into the darkened office space without much
trouble.  He felt hurt. He wasn’t sure exactly why. It was a lie to say that he
knew Cas. Their relationship was still too new for that. Cas never lied to him
exactly.
When they met they both had secrets, it was just to Cas his secret was
 transparent. Dean had never been able to lie to him about his attractions,
while Cas was always a bit of a mystery. He uncovered the truth about his past
in layers. As the man shed his armor. Dean had to admit he knew a bit about
hiding behind a persona.
Dean shut his door and set the letter on his desk stepping up to his sideboard.
It wasn’t exactly the 1950’s anymore, but sometimes a deal was still completed
over drinks. Dean kept a nice bottle of scotch in his office for occasions of
celebration. That wasn’t want this was. He wasn’t celebrating.
He was planning on saving this particular bottle for his promotion, but he
would have to get a new one.
Cas didn’t trust him with the truth at least not all of it. He didn’t doubt
what he told him about his mom was true. Yet him having a brother added an
entirely different element to the situation.
Dean poured himself a glass of scotch.  A bit fuller than what was
conventionally acceptable. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Still before
noon. Didn’t matter.
He took a seat in his damned uncomfortable office chair. The seat squeaking as
he did.
He took a drink of the Scotch broodingly. He supposed the saying was true, his
life was very different after he turned thirty.
Just last week he was brooding over an entirely different set of quandaries.
His loneliness, his inadequacy, his fear. Now the tables had turned so
dramatically it was hard to even connect the two men. He was still the same
Dean Smith, and yet he wasn’t because he’d been stripped bare of all the armor
he possessed. That moment before Cas in the hospital. Both of them at their
most vulnerable, had changed the course of his life.
Dean leaned forward, turning on his computer. It only took him a few moments to
pull up the page of James Novak.
The story on the website wasn’t really a story at all just a series of facts.
It wasn’t the information he needed to know.
James Novak was last seen. In Midlothian Tx. He was wearing a black hoodie and
jeans.   
How old was his brother? Was he old enough to know what was happening to Cas?
Did he participate?  
A shudder of revulsion went through him.
His original insistence at pushing away his thoughts of love and lust for Sam
because of familial feels was never really true.  
Sam had always been his friend, not really his brother.  Even though the age
disparity existed, it was never this gulf between them.  It was always
society’s idea of what they were supposed to be versus how they really were.
Here before him was a real instance of incest that might have been compounded
by a violation not only by his mother, but perhaps his brother as well.
He understood why Cas didn’t tell him even though it stung.
Yet it left him in the position of figuring out what was best for Cas.
The answer was easy.
He’d give Cas the letter. Make sure he knew that his brother was worried and
looking for him and let him take it where he wanted to from there.
That was the mature response, it was what he should do.
Still part of him wanted to take care of Cas. To protect him from emotional
harm. He’d gone through so much.
He needed to know more about this before he continued.
He glanced down at the phone number.
California area code. LA area if he had to hazard a guess.
He needed to know more before he brought this to Cas. He wasn’t going to risk
triggering Cas right now when he was already so fragile with memories of
someone who might have hurt him.
It only took him a moment to compose the email.
He sent it before he had a chance to change his mind and he waited as he
finished off his glass of scotch.
***
  They found Sky’s house without too much difficulty. Cas remembered this
neighborhood. The suburbs. Little cookie cutter houses that looked all the same
with slight insignificant differences.  They drove in circles for longer than
Cas would like to admit trying to figure out which difference belonged to Sky.
Finally when he was certain he had Sam pull over.
He seemed to be struggling with focusing as much as Cas was at the moment, but
he didn’t blame him. It was still early.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Sam asked.
Cas shook his head.
Cas walked up to the front door without much of a clue what he wanted to do.
He and Sky weren’t exactly friends, but…
He rang the bell, and waited. Stamping his feet against the cold. He wasn’t
sure if it had grown colder or if the accident made him more sensitive to it,
but he wore his heavy leather duster, and fingerless gloves, but they didn’t
feel like they offered the same protection as before.  The suburbs made his
skin itch. He’d lived in a place like this back in Montana.  Manicured lawns,
houses with little decorations. Besides the door was a little ceramic garden
gnome. He was holding up a sign. Gnome sweet gnome.
Sky’s father answered the door.  He seemed perplexed by his presence.
He was an older white man. With salt and pepper hair. He wore a burgundy
sweater and black slacks. His wife was behind him, she was latinx, her cream
blouse matching elegantly with her long dark hair. She was the one with the
money. She was lawyer.  He could see her smoothing her long black skirt behind
her husband.
She recognized him where he did not.
“Cas is looking for Kemp honey.” she called out.
Understanding lit in his eyes.
“They are in the guest room.”  he said softly.
Cas walked in feeling like a foreign invader into sacred space.
The house was pristine. As neat as his mother kept the house. Cream walls,
cream furniture. Tan carpet. He was afraid that if he sat on any of the
furniture he’d leave a stain.
An ornate bronze cross hung on one wall besides the tv. It made him
uncomfortable.
Sky’s mother pointed to a hallway on the other side of the living room.
He kept his broken arm tucked in as best he could to his body so he wouldn't
knock down any of the bric a brac on the bronze tiered stand next to the hall.
He knocked.
“Come in.” Sky called out.
  He was much more masculine presenting today. His multi colored hair covered
by a beenie, no makeup on.  Wearing a black long sleeve t -shirt. He was
sitting on a chair beside the bed.  Kemp was sitting in bed, his legs beneath
the blanket.  Looking about as good as Cas felt. He looked as neutral as ever
the fire engine red having faded into a dark pink, they wore a blue grey t
shirt.
Another person sat besides them legs crossed on the bed.Dillan he presumed. The
kid had shoulder length blonde hair the color of straw. In the same jagged
fringe cut as Sky. They wore skintight pink plaid pants and a black shirt with
neon writing on he that he couldn't make out. Their eyes swung to him. Hazel.
“Oh my god you're alive!” Kemp insisted trying to scramble from the bed. They
had a blue cast. Up their forearm and hissed as they put pressure on the arm.
Cas came to them. Dillan scooted aside letting Cas join them on the bed. Kemp
wrapped their arms around him.
“I tried to find out what happened but the hospital wouldn't tell me anything.”
Kemp continued. Cas rested his forehead against their shoulder as they hugged.
It was the most intimacy either of them had ever allowed.
“I was afraid you’d died and they would still never tell me.”
Cas moved to pull away the contact starting to overwhelm him.
Kemp was crying. Cas had to admit he’d never thought that Kemp would care so
much if something happened to him.
“I lost my memory of what happened that night, I only just remembered some of
it.” Cas admitted. Dillan had scooted behind him. Cas’s skin prickled, but he’d
only moved to lean against Sky.
“You look awful.”  Kemp admitted.
Cas raised his broken arm so that everyone could see it.
“Na never better.” he insisted. Knowing everyone could see through his lie.
“What happened?” Cas asked knowing wouldn't like the answer.
Kemp looked down.
“It was my fault. Malik used me as bait to get you to come to him.”
Cas shuddered. He didn’t remember it, but he knew it was true.
“How did you get to the hospital?” Kemp wondered.
“Malik.” he admitted.
“So he wasn’t taking you to finish you off, but to the hospital.” Kemp
murmured.
“People aren't always what you expect.” Sam murmured from the doorway. He must
have gotten tired of waiting in the car.
Kemp glanced at him.
“This is Sam.” Cas informed them. Kemp nodded, they remembered.
Sam smiled. There was something easy going about his demeanor, that tended to
put people at ease.
“Can I use your bathroom?” Sam asked.
Sky insisted. “Further down the hall and to the right.”
Dillan hopped off the bed.
“I’ll show you.”
Sam nodded and followed Dillan out.
“So that seems like it's progressing.”  Kemp insisted smiling.
They were happy for Cas. He deserved to be happy.
Cas shrugged. “I’m making it work.” he agreed.
“Speaking of making it work,” Sky began. Leaning into kiss Kemp’s cheek.
“My parents gave me the rest of the money.”
Cas was briefly confused till Kemp explained.
“We are all moving in together, Sky, Dill and me.”
Cas was happy for them.
“I’m glad.”
“You can be the first guest at our new place.” Sky teased softly.
Cas frowned studying them trying to decided if he was being caustic or not, but
as far as he could tell it was genuine.
“Can I talk to you a second?” Sky asked.
Cas nodded. Following Sky from the room. They paused in the darkened hallway.
This far into the interior of the house they were in shadows.
“Thank you.” Sky muttered. They were looking down at their toes.
Cas frowned “what for?” he asked perplexed, he was growing tired again. It
seemed he had no strength lately.
“Saving Kemp.” they continued.
Cas frowned. Sky had always been. His example of  the grass is always greener.
They had a loving family,loving relationships. They had a home, a future.
They had everything Cas always wanted, but could never have, and he hated them
for it.
There were tears shimmering in there eyes. “I don’t what what I would do
without them.”
Cas paused. “ What do you mean?”
“Kemp pulled me out of my shell, got me to come out to my parents. helped them
understand that it was just who I am not something wrong with me. They helped
me figure out what I wanted to go to school for, set me up with Dillan. I
wouldn't be half the person I am today if I had to do it alone.”
Cas knew. They’d be him. He’d had to do it alone his whole life. He’d pushed
and he’d struggled and he moved forward, but it was one bloody inch at a time.
Each victory came at the expense of something else. Cas had always assumed that
it was just luck and cruel circumstances that separated them. That made people
like Cas, like Kemp different from people like Sky, but he’d been wrong.
“You're welcome”
***
Sam washed his hands splashing a bit of water on his face.. He was feeling the
pills, but nothing like yesterday. He knew if he waited a few days his
tolerance would go back down.It was the benefit of opioids. He dabbed the hand
towel over his face. So was that was it then? He wondered to himself. He wasn’t
stopping. Up until now he’d been waiting. For Dean to catch him, or maybe Cas
to admit to giving him pills, but neither happened.  He looked at himself in
the mirror. His pupils were pin pricks against the hazel of his eyes. He looked
high. At least he felt like he did.
He was leaning against the counter. Looking into his eyes. It was weird being
able to see so much of his iris he wondered if he could see things reflected in
it like in the movies.
He’d followed Cas inside because the pills had started to kick in and he hadn't
wanted to be alone.  Some people liked being alone. Sam was never one of them.
When he was alone, especially when he was high, he was trapped with his
thoughts. That inevitably led him down a spiral. Deep into himself, a whirlpool
to drown in.  
Curiosity made him open up the medicine cabinet. It looked like a pharmacy.
There were several bottles of pills.all with different people’s names.  
Lorcet, Lortab, Norco, Vicodin,Xanax, Klonopin,Ativan, Valium,Adderall,Ritalin.
“I’ve got pills to make you tall, pills to make you small, and pills to make
you feel nothing at all.”
Sam shut the mirror. He had been so focused he hadn’t heard the other man open
the door.
Looking at the man in the reflection, over his shoulder.  Similar hazel eyes
looking back at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Obscuring the
backwards writing on his chest. He wasn’t angry that he’d discovered his stash.
He was grinning at him.
Sam didn’t catch the man’s name when he’d showed him to the bathroom.
Sam found it difficult to speak. Uncertain what he should say.  
“What are you into?” he asked straightening uncrossing his arms.
Sam swallowed thickly. He could say no. Here and now and end it. He’d severed
ties with all of his old contacts. He would have trouble, finding what he
wanted. Instead he found himself continuing.
“Norco. 7.5 or 10”
The man in the mirror nodded.
Sam turned to face him,
Now that he was facing him he could read the neon block letters.  Each of us
has heaven and hell in him.
“Seven dollars a pill for name brand, five for generic.”
Sam licked his lips. That was easily 700 bucks. He sort of blew all his money
on his date with Dean.
“I’ll call you tonight.” Sam agreed. The man smiled.
***
Dean was already at the apartment by the time they got back. He’d texted Sam to
ask where they were, but hadn’t chastised him for taking Cas out. He wasn’t in
the living room so Cas and Sam found him in the bedroom. He seemed preoccupied.
Cas was surprised, by how different his mood was from this morning. He seemed
solemn and if he was being honest a little drunk. His face was flushed. He was
packing a suitcase. He wore a suit Sam noted. It fit him to a T.  The charcoal
black wool suited him. The suit offered  notched lapels, two-button front, welt
pocket on chest,two front flap pockets and four-button detail at cuffs. Just
looking at it he could tell it was expensive, and the suits that he was pulling
from his closet easily topped the five hundred dollar price range on the one he
wore.
“So how did it go with the doctor?” Sam asked studying him. Dean continued to
pack the bag.
“Fine.” he asserted.
Sam wasn’t sure if he was lying or not.
He stepped up to him and wrapped his arm around his waist hugging him from
behind. He leaned back into him as if he wanted his support but didn't want to
ask for it.
He sighed heavily. Turning to face them.
“Everything is fine, I was just hoping I could get out of it since Cas is still
recovering, but I can’t.”
“What?” Cas asked.
Dean wasn’t meeting his eyes he went back to looking in his suitcase.
“A business trip.” he muttered.
“To LA.”  
Sam didn’t remember Dean talking about taking a trip anytime soon, but he
didn't always tell him when he had work trips.
“I should only be gone a few days.”  he insisted.
“You going to be ok to fly with that?” He asked indicating his hand.
“No metal pins I think I’m good to go.” he replied flippantly.
Sam frowned he was putting distance between them, and he couldn’t understand
why.
“Hey can I talk to you a second. He asked Dean. Dean nodded and followed Sam
out to the patio.
Cas went back to watching TV on the sofa.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Sam asked his heart beating slightly faster.
Was he wrong? Did Dean know about the pills? Was he just waiting for Sam to
confess?
“No” Dean insisted placing both hands on his shoulders.
 He looked Sad, and perhaps a little lost.
“No I’m not upset with you… or Cas.” he added.
“Just…” he paused searching for words.
“Distracted.” he admitted.
“We are still solid.” he added pulling him closer.
 The hug was lingering. Sam breathed him in. He wanted more than this but he
would always settle for this as well. Dean holding him when he needed it.
“There is just something that I’ve got to take care of.”
“I called Jo and asked if she could check in on Cas while I’m gone. Help give
him his pills and maybe hang around while you’re at work.”
Sam nodded.
“I left my charge card on the table if you need anything use it.”
Sam licked his lips. There was his access to the money he needed for his pills.
“Yeah.” Sam agreed to Dean’s words.
“I’m going to miss you.” he muttered.
“It’s just for a few days, a week tops.”
Sam nodded again. He felt bad lying to Dean. He should just not call the guy.
Or better yet call his sponsor.  
“I got to go.”
Dean insisted stepping past him.
Sam nodded.
“You're free to stay here while I’m gone.”  Dean tossed back.
“Yeah maybe.” Sam agreed.
He caught Dean’s hand before he stepped back inside.
Dean glanced surprised, but relented as Sam pulled him in for a kiss.
It was sweet, and yet somehow. distant. They’d crossed so much ground in the
past week. They were dating.
“I love you, come back safe.” Sam murmured.
Dean was staring in his eyes.
“I love you too.”  
Cas was sitting on the sofa as Dean crossed behind him towards his bedroom. He
wasn’t watching the show. Not really. He was just staring. Lost in thought. He
hadn’t thought about LA in a few years.
When he left his last foster care. He’d hopped the first bus out that god
forsaken town. He wound up in Dallas. From there he took the bus 30 hours to
LA. He’d gone there to see Gabe. He left before seeing him. He’d burned that
bridge when he left. From there he’d gone to San Francisco for a while. Then
 He’d been wandering.
“You leaving now?” Cas asked as he noticed Dean had returned with his suitcase.
“Yeah.” he agreed.  
Cas stood. Dean was his boyfriend. He should be able kiss him goodbye.
Cas was hugging him.
Dean felt guilty.
He kept his left hand firmly on the handle of his rolling suitcase. His right
loosely around Cas, the cast pressing between them.
Once Cas pulled away Dean let go of his suitcase and reached in his pocket.
He handed Cas the phone.
Cas frowned. It was a smartphone.
“What’s this.”
“Since you lost your old phone” he murmured softly.
“What happened to I pay my own way?” Cas asked staring at the black brick of a
phone like it was a trap.
“This one has a better camera.” Dean told him.
Cas frowned confused.
“Well I imagine it was hard to sext on your last one.”  Dean teased.
Cas blinked shaking his head.a startled laugh leaking past.
“Yeah.” he agreed.
“On this one we can even video call.” Dean added with a half-heartedly
lascivious smile.
“Ok.” Cas agreed. He’d accept the gift.
“See you soon.” Dean said with a sad seeming smile and walked out the door.
***
Balthazar was in his home office. The room was at the back of his house, he
needed the peace and quiet to think. It was decadent an old grandfather clock
in the corner click away setting the tone of the room. He paid top dollar to
have an ergonomic office chair.  He prefered to work here, than his much
larger, but sterile office at the firm. Partially the smaller space was cozier,
and  because they didn’t have the scotch he liked at the office. Typically he
spent late nights here versus early mornings. It wasn’t even nine o’clock. His
Fiance was still asleep.
He was dressed for staying in. He wore his soft grey button down, and slacks.
He was barefoot, another benefit of working at home.
He was debating on putting the scotch in his second cup of coffee or just
drinking it straight. The scotch that is not the coffee.
He didn’t usually drink Scotch on a Sunday morning, but he was celebrating.
He’d found him.
After all this time he’d finally found Jimmy Novak.
He’d settled on the scotch in the coffee. He couldn't afford to get too drunk
he was expecting company.  
He hadn’t told Gabriel yet. He didn't want to jinx it. This wasn’t the first
time he’d thought he found a lead only to end up choking on dust.  
It was hard finding someone when they didn’t want to be found.
Gabriel liked to believe the worst. That something was preventing his brother
from contacting him, Balthazar had a much more practical approach to the whole
matter.
Jimmy didn’t want his brother to find him.
Balthazar didn’t find the idea as troubling as Gabriel did. He wasn’t sure if
it was because he was an only child or if he was just less troubled by the idea
of a family member wanting nothing to do with him, after all he hadn’t seen his
father in nigh on twenty years, or something else entirely.
The General had never reacted well to the idea that his only son was gay, still
he’d almost seemed more disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t interested in
joining the military. With don’t ask don’t tell in full swing at the time
Balthazar had no interest stepping back into that particular closet when he
turned eighteen.
Now at thirty six, he worked at a prominent LA law firm, and was more than
content by his chosen profession.
His office door opened and Balthazar quickly switched tabs when his lover
padded barefoot to his side.
Gabriel leaned in and kissed him gently. He was shirtless wearing just a pair
of red silk boxers.
“Mmm. I missed you.” he whispered. “Why’d you leave bed so early?” he asked.
Because he’d seen the alert on his phone and wanted to check it out without his
lover in the room.  
“Couldn’t sleep.” he lied.
Gabe grabbed his cup of coffee from his desk.
“So you decided to dose yourself?” he teased.
Balthazar smiled. It was too early to tell him. He’d disappointed him before.
“I’ll be right back to bed let me just finish some emails.”
He nodded.
Once he was gone Balthazar pulled up the email from Dean Smith. It was only two
lines long. Lacking most of the information he wanted but it was a start. He
had an ally.
I know where Jimmy Novak is.
I’ll be in Los Angeles today to talk in person.
It may not be exactly what he wanted but after this long it was a start.
***
Endings are hard.
There will always be things left undone, unsaid, space unexplored.
Which is why this isn’t an ending. This is just a small glimpse into the life
of these three men. There will never be that happily ever after ride away into
the sunset moment for them or anyone. The only sunset in life is the end of it.
You can be the happiest you’ve ever been, but in the grand scheme of things
it's just a snapshot.
I want to take you through the whole photo album.
The name of the next instalment of this is story is
{Never to suffer would never to have been blessed}
I plan to have the first chapter published sometime early December.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Midlothian Texas is a real place, my accounts of it are not.
     I plan to have more flashback in my next instalment.
***** Note *****
I've been thinking about trying to adapt this into an ebook.
End Notes
     Your comments are what's keeping me going thank you all keep
     commenting
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