Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/899612.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Dean_Winchester, John_Winchester, Mary_Winchester, Original
      Characters
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Summer_Love, High_School_AU, Interspecies_Racism, Explicit
      Sexual_Content, Fluff, mostly_-_Freeform, Maybe_a_little_angst, Mostly
      fluff_though, Castiel_is_adopted_into_a_human_family, he_feels
      conflicted, Oh_and_Also, handjobs
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-26 Words: 6908
****** I'm Sure ******
by Leah
Summary
     When the Winchesters move in to the house next door to the Novak
     family, Castiel can't help but notice the oldest Winchester. However,
     being the only (adopted) angel in a family of humans has led Cas to
     feel like an outsider in his own home, but Dean makes him feel so
     much better.
     In more ways than one.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It’s not easy being an angel in a mostly-human world, even if you’re an angel
raised by regular people, like Castiel Novak. The human kids at school want
nothing to do with him, but, having grown up with human ideals, he doesn’t know
anything about angel culture. So, Cas just spends his days at school pretending
he doesn’t exist, a concept which the rest of the student body is more than
willing to perpetuate.
That’s why the three glorious months of summer vacation are the best part of
Cas’s entire year. It’s a time when he has no responsibilities, no obligation
to leave the house, and nobody to impress. His bedroom is his best friend,
perfectly shielded from the sunlight and far enough away from the rest of the
family that no one, not even Cas’s little siblings, bothers him.
Usually.
Currently, Castiel’s mother is knocking on the door, incessantly. Cas groans,
rolling onto his stomach and peeking at the alarm clock on his bedside table.
He stretches his wings for a minute, ruffling his feathers, while his mom
continues to rap on the door.
“Castiel Benjamin Novak,” she sighs. “Are you awake? Don’t you remember our new
neighbors are moving in today?”
“Mo-om,” Cas grumbles, as she opens the door. She’s obviously straightened her
hair, and put in the effort of make-up, no matter how many times Cas tells her
she doesn’t need to. Cas often wishes she were his birth mother since, maybe
then, he wouldn’t have such unruly hair, and his wings would be gone.
“Come on,” she says, cheerily throwing open the curtains. It doesn’t do much,
so she also clicks on the bedside lamp. “The rest of the family is already out
greeting them. I’ll cut you a deal; you don’t even have to comb your feathers.”
“’Oh, great, Mom,” Cas mumbles, sitting up. His mother smoothes the dark
feathers into place, anyway, as he gets out of bed. Even though the only thing
Cas uses in his room is his bed, the rest of the bedroom is a complete disaster
with clothes and random personal belongings scattered on every flat space and
the floor.
“However, it’d do you some good to tidy up,” she giggles, pressing a kiss to
Cas’s forehead. Cas loves it when she does that. It makes him feel like
anything is possible; reminds him that he’s loved, even if he was given up for
adoption as a kid.
Once his mom leaves, Cas grudgingly pulls on a pair of blue Bermuda shorts and
slips on a grey button up. Since clothes specially made for angels are not
cheap, Castiel’s mom has altered some human shirts, cutting slits in the back
where his wings can go. Sometimes, Cas feels a little embarrassed that his
clothes don’t look like, well, anybody else’s, but he wouldn’t ever say that
out loud. His mom tries as hard as she can, and Castiel loves her for it. He
loves her more than anything else in his life.
Except maybe sleeping.
But probably not.
Once he stumbles down the stairs, Cas’s mom shoves a muffin in his hands before
dragging him outside with her. A huge moving truck is parked outside the house
next door, and Castiel’s dad is talking to a man, who is at least four inches
taller than him, with black hair and quite a bit of stubble on his cheeks.
“Charlie,” Cas’s mother calls, taking her place at her husband’s side. He
instinctively wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. If
Castiel hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Charlie were his actual
father, what with his messy black hair and sharp blue eyes.
“Oh, John,” Charlie says, turning to the new man. “This is my wife, Laura, and
my oldest son, Castiel. Laura, Castiel, this is John Winchester.”
The man shakes Laura’s hand and nods curtly at Cas. Cas just lifts the corners
of his mouth. So far, these neighbors are nothing special.
“John, we are more than happy to help in any way, so you and your family feel
comfortable and welcome in our neighborhood,”
Laura grins, putting on her best smile, which shows off her pearly teeth. Cas
wishes he could smile like that, but he’s too busy trying to make his wings
look as small as possible. In a crowd of humans, being the only angel makes
Castiel feel antsy. He can’t help but think John’s eyes are tracking his extra
appendages.
“Uh,” John stumbles over his words, “I think Mary could use some help in the
kitchen. If you don’t mind putting in a little elbow grease to clean it up,
that is.”
“Bring it,” Laura laughs, leaving the group to enter the house. Castiel feels a
lot more vulnerable in the circle without his mother present, and the sheer
masculinity radiating off this new neighbor is almost suffocating.
After a few more brief minutes of awkward conversation, Cas finds himself
unloading boxes from the truck. Luckily the Winchesters are freakishly
organized move-ees, and they labeled every single box with its appropriate
room, which greatly reduces the amount of interaction Cas has with the
newcomers.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Cas pushes open the door to the Winchester’s
oldest son’s, Dean’s, room. It’s dimly lit and kind of dusty, and, for a
minute, Cas doesn’t notice the teenaged boy tacking up posters.
“Oh, sorry,” Cas mumbles, his feathers rippling with embarrassment as they
contract closer to his back. The boy, presumably Dean, spins on his heel, and
suddenly Cas’s wings bristle for a different reason. This kid is hot. His
shoulders are broad, and his hair is artfully messed up, unlike Cas’s, which is
just messy. “If I had known you were in here, I would’ve knocked. So sorry.”
Cas puts the box on the perfectly made bed, and starts backing out of the room.
“Wait, hold up,” Dean says, extending his hand. His smile is blindingly
perfect, and Cas looks away, an idiotic blush forming on his cheeks. “I’m
Dean.”
“Cas,” he replies, accepting the outstretched hand. As a natural reaction to
the movement of his shoulder, Cas’s wing unfolds away from his body. Cas can
see Dean physically jump, and he retracts his hand immediately, stuffing it in
his pocket.
“Woah,” Dean breathes, staring at Cas’s now noticeable wings. “You’re a-“
“Angel, yeah,” Cas grimaces, trying to make his shoulders smaller. “It’s weird,
I know. I’m just gonna go-“
“That’s awesome!” Dean breathes, trying to make his staring less obvious. “I’ve
never met an angel before. There’s not very many of your, uh, kind in Kansas.”
Cas bristles under the way Dean says it, like he’s some sort of freak who has
no business being in the same room as a human being. Shrugging, Cas turns and
leaves the room without saying anything. He’s not sure how to respond to that,
except with the self-loathing that’s going on in his head. Even without such
prompting, Cas is constantly aware of just how different he is from the rest of
his family, and, sometimes, he catches them staring at his wings, too, as if
they can’t believe he still has them.
Once outside, Cas bypasses the mostly-empty moving truck and heads back to his
house. He just wants to lay in his bed for a while, until he feels less like an
outsider.
He doesn’t leave his room until the next day.
~_~_~_~_~_~
A few days after the Winchesters move in, Cas stumbles into the kitchen, where
his mother is already waiting for him with a bagel. Cas accepts it happily,
taking a huge bite while his mom pours him a glass of orange juice. Even though
he’s sixteen, and therefore capable of making himself breakfast, his mother
continues to do it. She loves to take care of her first baby, and he loves to
feel babied, seeing as his three younger siblings tend to get a bigger portion
of the attention.
“Thanks, Mom,” Cas says around a mouthful of food.
“No problem, baby,” she responds, sitting next to Cas at the ceramic island.
She opens her laptop and starts her daily social-networking routine. They sit
in silence, ignoring the sound of a five, six, and eight year old playing
together. It’s all fairly routine, as Cas stretches his wings out to their full
five feet and eleven inches, something he doesn’t do very often. He hates the
idea of getting in the way, even if it often causes cramps in his wings where
the joints fold. Cas puts his glass in the sink before retracting his shiny
wings.
He’s not proud of much, but he’s fairly fond of how his wings look. They’re
shiny and black, something he hasn’t seen on many other angels. Most of the
angels at school have white or grey feathers, so, in a world where he doesn’t
quite fit, Cas is happy he gets a special something to make people stop and
notice him. Not because they’re wings, but because they’re awesome wings.
Happily, Cas ruffles his feathers.
“By the way, Cas,” his mom says, innocently. “The Winchesters invited us over
for dinner tonight, to say thanks for helping them out.”
“Mom, I don’t want to go,” Cas groans, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
When it comes to leaving the house, Cas is better at whining than Gabe, his
five-year-old brother.
“Well, too bad,” she replies, closing her laptop. She looks at Cas with a
heartfelt look in her eyes, drumming her fingers on the island. “Dean is
exactly your age, and I think it’d be good for both you and him to become
friends! He’s very nice, and very cute!”
“Mo-om!” Cas groans again, running his spindly fingers through his messy
bedhead. However, he knows arguing is futile and, instead, chooses to just go
back to his room, counting down the hours until his sociable torture will
begin.
~_~_~_~_~_~
“Welcome! Come on in!” Mary Winchester cries, opening the door wider to Cas’s
family. Cas’s mom expertly hands off Gabe, whom she was holding, to Castiel.
He’s getting bigger and bigger, but Cas’s mom insists that he is still just a
baby. Cas doesn’t mind, though. He likes holding Gabe.
“Oh, thank you!” Laura responds, wrapping Mrs. Winchester in an overly-familiar
hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, as she puts just as much gusto into her
half of the hug as well. “Do you need any help in the kitchen?”
“I will never refuse extra help! Having a house full of boys makes it hard to
get enough food on the table, especially since they never help!” By the time
her sentence is over, Mary is fake yelling up the stairs, to which one of the
boys makes a groaning sound to in reply. Cas, his father, and his little
sisters, Lacey and Joelle, shuffle into the small ‘lobby’ area. Immediately,
Gabe squirms out of Cas’s arms and runs off with Lacey and Joelle, giggling
wildly.
“I’ll bet Dean and his younger brother, Sam, are upstairs,” Cas’s father says,
pointedly. He nudges Cas in the ribs, softly. “Why don’t you go on up?”
“Dad,” Cas groans, but, before he can get any more out, his dad is pushing him
towards the stairs, saying something about how fun it will be with kids his own
age, for a change. Cas has no choice but to trudge upwards, towards the hell
that is interacting
with human teenagers.
Cas hears talking behind Dean’s closed door, and he thinks he catches the words
“freaky” and “angel” before knocking. The conversation abruptly stops, and,
after a brief moment, the door swings open, revealing Dean, in all his glory.
His eyes are sparkling with some kind of emotion. Excitement? Nervousness?
Embarrassment?
“Hi,” Cas mumbles, studying his hands.
“Hey, Cas!” Dean welcomes him, pulling him into the room by his shoulder. Cas
thinks he must have forgotten about how close his wings are to his shoulders,
but, in reality, Dean is fascinated by them. The thought of having wings that
could fly is just completely beyond him. However, Cas takes Dean’s staring to
mean intense dislike, rather than mild interest, and instinctively tries to
make his wings appear smaller.
On a couch pushed against the far wall of Dean’s room, sits a boy, with shaggy
brown hair who is clearly taller than both Dean and Castiel. He stands up,
crossing the room in three big strides, and puts out his hand. Cas accepts it.
“I’m Sam,” he announces around a huge smile. Instead of sitting down again,
though, he sidesteps around Cas. “It’s great to meet you, after all Dean’s been
talking about you. But I’ve got to go do… stuff. See you guys at dinner.”
With that abrupt farewell, Sam slips out the door, closing it behind him. Cas
tries not to think too hard about all the things Dean could’ve been saying
about him and, instead, takes Sam’s spot on the couch, slipping his shoes off
and pulling his knees to his chest.
“So…” Dean stalls, plopping himself on his large bed. “Got any plans for the
summer?”
“Uh, no. Not really,” Cas sighs, digging his phone of his pocket. It’s not like
he’s got anyone to text; he just likes to have something in his hands when
being forced to talk to people he doesn’t know. “Just, uh, gonna stay at home
and go on the internet, y’know. You?”
Cas shrugs his shoulders, as he suddenly realizes Dean’s intense eyes on him.
Dean’s blank face cracks into a smile, which
warms Cas’s stomach a little bit. No matter how much he doesn’t understand Cas,
Cas can’t help but notice that Dean is so cute.
“Well, uh, I don’t know anyone around here,” he chuckles, a faint blush rising
on his freckled cheeks. “Except you, of course, but I think I’m just going to
hang around the house, maybe explore town a little bit, I don’t know.” Dean
tries not to ramble, he really does, but something about his new neighbor just
makes him a little bit dumber. The way his hair is in a constant state of
bedhead should really turn Dean off, but it doesn’t. It does quite the
opposite, actually. And his wings. Dean can’t stop thinking about them, for
some reason.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” Cas replies, counting down the hours until
he gets to return to the safety and comfort of his own bedroom, even though
Dean’s is pretty cool, what with the posters of Led Zeppelin and Metallica on
the walls.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, quieter than before, more serious. “About the day we
moved in, uh, I’m sorry if I offended you or anythin’. I didn’t mean anything
by it, I’ve just, y’know. God, no matter how I say this I sound like an
asshole, which might be true, I’m not sure, you tell me. Wow, I’m sor-“
“Dean,” Cas interrupts Dean’s rambling apology. “It’s fine. I’m used to it,
I’ve lived my whole life as the only angel in a family of humans.” He means it,
too. Even if being an angel causes quite a few identity issues, Cas hasn’t
known life to be any other way. He just picks himself up and gets on with life.
“We’re cool?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely worried.
“We’re cool.”
“Boys! It’s time for dinner!” Cas’s mom yells from downstairs. Cas breaks his
“I don’t want any friends” demeanor and playfully pushes Dean in their scramble
to beat each other down the stairs.
~_~_~_~_~_~
Dean tried really hard not to look. He doesn’t want to be the neighbor caught
ogling the boy next door, but c’mon. Cas is pushing the lawn mower partly bent-
over, which presses his ass tighter against his very flattering jeans. Not to
mention, his wings are glistening with sweat from the harsh sun, and Dean
can’t. Stop. Looking.
“What ‘cha doin’?” Dean calls, relishing the way Cas’s wings jerk with
surprise. He shuts off the mower before turning to face Dean. Cas’s face is
flushed and adorable, and Dean can’t help but think that’s what he’d look like
if Dean pushed him against a wall and ravaged his mouth.
“Uh, mowing,” Cas answers, crossing the yard to lean against the fence, just
like Dean. Dean’s face is cutely flushed, but Cas can’t tell if it’s from the
heat or if Dean is blushing. “You?”
“Watching,” Dean winks, nudging Cas’s arm. “Just kiddin’, man. You wanna do
somethin’ when you’re done?”
“Uh,” Cas thinks aloud, he actually doesn’t mind Dean’s company. He’s nice and
funny, and doesn’t seem to mind Castiel’s wings too much, although Dean does
stare at them a lot.
“That’s cool, if you got stuff goin’ on,” Dean deflates, trying to put on a
smile. “Some other time, maybe?”
“No!” Cas says, chastising himself for sounding a little too desperate. It’s
been a long time since he wanted to be someone’s friend, and an even longer
time since someone wanted to be his friend. “I mean, uh, sure. What d’you want
to do?”
Dean grins a blinding smile , crinkling his eyes and showing off his white
teeth. “I didn’t really plan this far ahead,” Dean admits, chuckling so he
doesn’t seem so dorky. “Wanna play some video games at my house?”
“Sure,” Cas agrees, hoping that Dean will play, and Cas will watch. He’s played
very few video games in his life. “I’ll be over in a little while.”
“Awesome,” Dean breathes, watching Castiel’s feathers blow in the light breeze
as he returns to the lawn mower. Dean lets his eyes linger for a while longer
before turning towards his house. He’s got to tidy up a bit.
An hour later, after a shower and trying on almost everything in his closet,
Cas rings the doorbell on the Winchester’s house. Dean sprints to the door,
pausing to catch his breath before opening the door. Cas is wearing his
favorite jeans and button up, and, if Dean had to say, they’re his favorite
things Cas owns, too.
“Hey,” Dean breathes, tugging Cas into the house as he closes the door.
“Hi,” Cas answers, slipping his shoes off. He leaves them by the door, as Mary
calls them into the kitchen.
“Hello, Castiel,” she says, politely smiling. Then she shifts from friendly
hostess to a mom and turns towards Dean. “Dean, did you bring down your
laundry? And make your bed? And feed the fish?”
“Yes. No. Yes,” Dean beams, cheekily. “But it’s almost nighttime anyway, it’d
be silly to make my bed now. Right, Cas?”
“I, uh, what?” Cas stumbles over his words, his face burning at the sudden
attention. Even when both Winchesters start laughing, Cas still curses his
seeming inability to cope with the company of other people, which causes his
cheeks to turn an even warmer shade of red.
“You’re off the hook, just this once, Dean!” Mary laughs, flipping her blonde
hair over her shoulder, as she starts washing dishes in the sink. “Care to
help, Cas?” Mary cackles as Dean pulls Cas away, towards the living room, where
an Xbox home screen is displayed on the television already.
“Call of Duty is the game in there already, but we can play somethin’ else,”
Dean says, digging two controllers out of the cabinet under the TV. He hands
one to Cas, who already picked out a spot on the couch where his wings can hang
over the arm. As Dean sits down, Cas retracts his feet just enough so Dean gets
a whole cushion to himself. “If you object to violence or something, I don’t
know. I like it, but that’s just me. I’m gonna let you answer now, okay?”
Dean outright giggles, and it’s the single cutest thing Cas has ever seen
someone do in his entire life. Dean’s cheeks turn a faint pink. “Uh, I’ve never
played Call of Duty, so,” Cas admits, looking at the white controller in his
hands. “I’ll give it a try, but I’m not so sure how this is going to work out.”
“Dude,” Dean says, incredulously, as the game starts up. “Never played Call of
Duty? Like, ever?”
“Never,” Cas replies, trying to sound just as surprised as Dean. They both
laugh for a moment, before Dean sets them up to play online.
“Well, you move around and shoot people,” Dean explains, demonstrating briefly
on his own half of the screen. “Try not to get killed. That’s it. That’s the
game.”
“This is popular?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dean answers, sticking the tip of his tongue between his teeth in
concentration. Cas focuses his attention on the screen, not completely sure
what he’s doing, but there’s no one in sight, so he treads carefully.
Suddenly, his death is being replayed while his character is respawned
somewhere else.
“Fu-udge,” Cas stumbles halfway through his curse. “Uh. Sorry.”
“Nah, bro, it’s cool,” Dean says, looking towards the kitchen. “Mom?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Awesome. Mom must be upstairs. We can say any fuckin’ thing we want, Cas,”
Dean grins, returning his attention to the game at hand. By the end of the
round, Cas dies an impressive twenty-three times, but he’s ready to redeem
himself.
Cas doesn’t notice Dean staring at him with such wonder in his eyes. To Dean,
Cas is perfect. When you get the guy comfortable, he’s passionate, funny, and
pretty much the cutest person alive. While he was playing, Cas’s shirt started
riding up his stomach a little, and Dean has to exercise some serious self-
control to stop from staring.
They play until almost midnight, pausing only to let Sam join the game and to
eat dinner. When Sam excuses himself, Cas stretches his wings out straight
behind him. They can’t fully extend when he does it like this, but he doesn’t
want Dean to see his wings in their freakish entirety. Almost six feet of wing
is startling to Cas himself, sometimes.
“Tired?” Dean asks, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.
“Yeah,” Cas yawns, standing up. “I guess I’ll go home, then.”
“Dude!”
“What?” Cas asks, a preemptive blush forming on his cheeks. He hates it that he
can’t control how red his cheeks are in any situation. He feels like such a
girl sometimes.
“You can just stay here,” Dean laughs, crawling over the back of the couch to
open a closet. It’s stuffed full of extra blankets and pillows, which Dean
pulls out copious amounts of. “We could put a movie on while we fall asleep?”
Cas’s grin nearly shines in the dark. Is this what having a friend feels like?
“Sounds good,” he agrees, as Dean starts assembling two beds on the floor, in
front of the TV. After a few minutes, 500 Days of Summer is starting, and Cas
is hovering around the edge of one of the blanket beds/nests. Dean undoes his
pants, slipping out of them before clambering into his own bed. Cas follows
suit, albeit a little more sheepishly than Dean.
Dean makes a point of not looking at Cas while he does so, although he’s not
sure if he’s proving a point to Cas or to himself.
~_~_~_~_~_~
It’s been days since Cas spent the night, but Dean can’t get the feeling of
Cas’s wing draped over him out of his head. It was a perfect way to wake up,
with the soft weight of Cas’s wing surrounding him and Cas’s flushed, sleeping
face directly in his line of sight.
Now, Dean’s just trying to get himself alone with Cas as often as possible. He
wants to wake up to Cas every single day, wants to have the right to touch him
anywhere and everywhere, wants to see Cas’s wings at their most grand.
Which is why Dean is knocking on the Novak’s door, dressed in his snappiest
outfit, which, by the way, includes his leather jacket. Joelle opens the door,
her eight-year-old smile almost blinding Dean. He knows how much this little
girl adores him, so he quickly puts his hands on her waist, swinging her around
in a circle.
“Hey, Joelle,” he greets, stepping in to the hall. “Is Cas here?”
“Yeah, but he’s been cranky all day,” she whines, picking a Barbie up off the
ground. She smoothes the doll’s hair lovingly.
“D’you know why?” Dean asks, mounting the stairs with the little girl trailing
behind him. For having no blood relation, Joelle looks eerily similar to
Castiel. Especially her brilliantly blue eyes, which she inherited from her
father.
“Probably just trying to be special,” she scoffs. “He’s an angel, you know.”
She makes a face at her imaginary Castiel. She’s only eight, but Dean feels
vaguely angry that she would say it like that. Like his angelic status is
something icky or something Cas tries to use to his advantage.
“He’s got issues, y’know,” Dean grumbles. “And singling him out as the angel in
the family probably doesn’t help, just so you know.”
Joelle looks sort of upset for a minute before she turns and scampers towards
her room. Dean feels badly for talking to her like that, but what’s done is
done, so he continues down the hall, to Cas’s room. He knocks softly, and earns
an irritated, “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Dean announces as he pushes open the door. Cas is curled up on his
side, staring at the wall, on top of the well-made covers. His room is
spotless, so he must have spent the entire day cleaning. He must be avoiding
something. “You okay?”
Cas shrugs his shoulders, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.
“That’s not promising,” Dean murmurs, sitting down in the crook of Cas’s knees.
Instinctively, Cas shifts so his calves and his thighs are pressed against
Dean. Dean runs his fingers over Cas’s thigh, as he lets out a breath. “What’s
goin’ on, dude?”
“My fuckin’ wings,” Cas grumbles, shaking the feathered beasts as if that
explains everything.
“They look great,” Dean admits, honestly. “What about them?”
“They’re growing,” he mumbles. He feels like such a little kid right now, and
he hates it. He seems immature and small. “I’ve had growing pains all day, but
I’m the ‘grown up kid’, so I can’t say anything!”
“You can say something to me,” Dean murmurs, letting his fingers drift up Cas’s
side. “Do you want me to get some Tylenol or somethin’? I don’t mind.”
Dean moves to stand up, not waiting for a proper response. However, as soon as
his body is gone, Cas misses Dean’s presence, and a fresh save of aching pain
travels from the base of his wing to the tip.
“No,” he says, reaching behind his back, blindly searching for Dean’s wrist. He
tugs on the edge of Dean’s sleeve, pitifully. “Please just stay. That’s
better.”
“Sure, Cas,” Dean murmurs, shedding his jacket before returning to his spot in
the nest of Castiel’s knees. Immediately, Castiel relaxes into the feel of
Dean’s body. “Whatever you need, buddy. Whatever you need.”
“Goddamn these wings,” Cas groans, angrily ruffling his feathers. The rhythm of
Dean’s fingers stutters, as an idea comes to him.
“Hey, Cas, just, uh, let me try something,” Dean almost whispers, moving his
hand from Cas’s torso to his back. Hesitantly, Dean brushes his slender fingers
against the base of Cas’s wing. His feathers are surprisingly soft, and Dean
wants to touch them forever. Cas bristles at the contact, but relaxes into it
after a moment, when Dean starts moving his fingers in circles, pressing
lightly.
Dean works his way towards the middle of Cas’s wing, drawing soft whines from
Cas’s throat. Cas is completely lost in the comforting waves of Dean’s hands in
his feathers, and he can’t stop it when a moan escapes his lips and his back
arches into Dean’s touch. It’s so relaxing, and Cas lets his mind wander a
little, imagining what these magic fingers would feel traveling elsewhere on
his body.
And, even though he wants nothing less, Dean removes his hands when he reaches
the tip of Cas’s wing. Cas lets out a noise that is half a contented sigh and
half a disappointed whine, which makes Dean’s hand return to the small of his
back.
“Better?”
“So much better,” Cas murmurs, flipping over so he’s facing Dean. Something
about the softness in Dean’s eyes makes Cas feel warm all over. They just look
at each other for a moment, before it’s interrupted by Castiel’s mom knocking
on the door.
“Is Dean staying for dinner?”
“Sure, Mrs. Novak,” Dean calls, without breaking eye contact with Cas.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Dean Winchester: Call me Laura,”
she answers, walking away before Dean can reply.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sure, Cas. Anything you want.”
~_~_~_~_~_~
Cas wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before picking up the phone. He knows
the number by heart, even if he’s never called it before. On his way back to
his room, Cas’s mom pats him on the shoulder and grins. Somehow, without
telling her, she knows Cas is about to try and step up his relationship with
Dean.
Cas can’t stop thinking about Dean’s hands, Dean’s smile, Dean’s laugh.
Everything about Dean is wonderful and never ceases to amaze Castiel, so he’s
decided to tell Dean because he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it in.
However, when the phone starts ringing, Cas wants to hang up. He wants to throw
up. He wants to pass out. The moment Dean answers, Cas collapses onto his bed,
squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a deep breath.
“You okay? Is it your wings again?” Dean asks, worriedly. Cas thinks he hears a
little bit of hope in his voice, too. Maybe he’s just reading into it too far.
Well, here goes nothing.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Cas answers, his voice shaking a little bit. “Just fine.
Hey, uh, Dean?”
“Yeah?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe in his kitchen. He fiddles
with the zipper on his jacket, a weirdly nervous feeling rising up in his
stomach. What has gotten into Cas?
“You’re my best friend, right?”
“I like to think so.”
“Well, I just wanted to say that I think you’re really great. Like, really
great,” Cas stumbles over his words, kicking himself for sounding like such a
dork. “And I’ve just been thinking about it, and I really like you, and I hope
this doesn’t change things with you and me, I just needed to tell you. I don’t
really feel that much better, though, since I haven’t given you a chance to say
anything yet, but I just thought you should know.”
“Cas,” Dean says in a low voice, that Cas can’t quite read. Suddenly, Cas’s
thoughts are disrupted by the harsh sound of a dial tone. Everything seems so
completely pointless now, and Cas’s stomach threatens to revolt against him, as
he also hangs up his phone. He rolls into a ball on his side, feeling the dark
cloud of rejection settle over his psyche. It physically feels heavy on his
body, weighing him down and pressing him into the mattress.
He doesn’t feel like crying, he doesn’t feel like anything. Never has Cas ever
felt so completely empty inside. He’s so busy focusing on his suffering, that
he doesn’t notice when his door opens, and Dean slips inside. Seeing his friend
look so helpless completely wrecks Dean. He hurries to the side of the bed,
kneeling beside Cas, looking into his beautifully blue eyes.
“Sorry, Dean,” Cas says, monotonously. He tries to roll over, but Dean captures
his shoulder in his strong hands.
“Don’t be,” he whispers, surging forward and pressing his lips to Castiel’s.
It’s everything Cas hoped it would be; warm, inviting, gentle. Dean’s teeth
lightly graze against Cas’s lips, and Cas lets out a moan that stirs something
in Dean. Cas pulls on Dean’s jacket, until he’s lying on the bed, facing
Castiel. Dean caresses Cas’s cheek with his fingertips, causing shivers to run
through his angel’s body.
Cas ducks his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder, sucking a dark purple
mark there, making Dean squirm, wrapping his fingers in Castiel’s hair. “Hng,
Cas,” Dean groans, wrapping his arms around Cas’s slim waist and pulling him
closer. Cas presses his hips against Dean’s, relishing the way Dean gasps and
cants his semi-hard member against Cas’s.
Cas shudders when Dean’s fingers skate under his shirt, sending electric
shivers up and down Castiel’s chest. Finally, after several long moments, Cas
returns his mouth’s attention to Dean’s, swallowing all his whines while Dean
keeps up a quick rhythm with his hips against Cas’s.
Dean rolls over, straddling Cas’s hips. After a few minutes of Cas pulling at
the bottom of Dean’s shirt, Dean removes it, letting Cas’s nails drag across
Dean’s chest. Dean lets his head fall limply back while Cas rolls Dean’s soft
pink nipple between his fingertips.
“Wanna see you, too,” Dean pants, undoing some of the buttons on Cas’s shirt.
His fingers aren’t exactly functioning, and they fumble more than they actually
undo, so Cas halfway sits up, swiftly slipping out of his shirt. It only got
caught on his wings for a moment, too.
When Dean leans down, sucking purple spots into Cas’s chest, Cas moans so
prettily, it only makes Dean harder, his cock visibly straining against his
jeans. However, some part of his brain is still rational enough to silence
Castiel with his mouth.
“Shhh, Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing rows of kisses against Cas’s jaw. “You
gotta be quiet, just for now. Later, I promise, you can make as much noise as
you want. Promise.”
“Dean,” Cas whimpers, his hands scrambling for something to hold on to. He
wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer to his hips.
Cas grinds his cock against Dean’s, nearly sobbing from how perfect it is, yet
how much more he needs. Cas slips his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s
jeans, brushing teasingly near to Dean’s dick, but not touching it.
Dean hisses, as he realizes just how much he needs this right now. He wrenches
open the fly on Cas pants, shucking them down to his knees, before doing the
same to his own pants. Dean returns to his spot, straddling Cas’s hips. While
he tangles his lips with Castiel’s again, Dean drags his fingers along the
shaft of Cas’s weeping cock, smirking at the way Cas’s hips seem to leap off
the mattress.
Dean wraps his large hand around both of their cocks, gasping when it takes a
moment to get enough precum to slick the way properly. Cas twists underneath
Dean, trying to decide where to put his hands. He decides to wrap them in
Dean’s hair, accidentally tugging on it when Dean’s thumb slips over the head
of Cas’s cock. However, he purposefully does it again when Dean groans against
Cas’s neck. Dean’s rough fingers swipe over the heads of both their cocks on
every upstroke.
Suddenly, Cas is overwhelmed, and he’s too hot, and Dean’s hand feels too good
on his dick. Cas lets out a cry that sounds kind of like a sob, before he is
shooting his load between himself and Dean. The pulsing of Cas’s cock sets Dean
off a second later, as his cum joins Cas’s on his chest.
“Oh my God,” Cas pants, lifting himself up on his elbows to kiss Dean again,
slower this time. Sweeter. Cas’s wings stretch out, and Dean settles into the
warm feathers as he rolls off of Cas’s body. After blindly fumbling for his
discarded shirt, Cas wipes both of their chests clean before tossing the fabric
into the laundry hamper.
“That was awesome, Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to Cas’s neck.
“You’re awesome,” Cas replies, snuggling closer to Dean and wrapping his wings
around Dean. After a few minutes, both of them drift into a comfortable
slumber.
~_~_~_~_~_~
Cas fidgets with the collar of his shirt before ringing the doorbell. After
just a moment, Sam, towering over Cas, opens the door and grins at Castiel.
“Hey, Cas!”
“Hello, Sam,” Cas says in his typical reserved manner. Despite spending more
and more time in the Winchester household, Cas still doesn’t know quite how to
drop into their family dynamic immediately, like Dean does with Cas’s family.
“Dean! Your boy-toy is here!” Sam yells up the stairs, while Cas blushes and
studies his shoes. He can hear Sam laughing as he retreats to the kitchen
before Dean can show up and make his life a living hell. Cas gingerly shuts the
door behind him as Dean rumbles down the stairs.
“Hey, babe, where’d that asshat go?” Dean grins, pushing Cas against the door.
Cas unfolds his wings, wrapping them around Dean’s shoulders as his hands go
Dean’s waist. Dean runs his hands up Cas’s torso before leaning in and finally
pressing his lips to Cas’s. They let themselves get lost in each other’s mouths
for a minute, exploring the now-familiar dips and ridges.
“Excuse me, boys,” Mary sing-songs as she skirts around the teenagers and heads
up the stairs.
“Sorry, Mrs. Winchester,” Cas breathes, hiding his embarrassingly red face in
Dean’s shoulder as he retracts his wings from around Dean. However, he leaves
his hands wrapped around Dean’s waist.
“I think we should go to a movie,” Dean says loud enough for his mom to hear,
too. She makes a noise of approval, as Cas drags Dean out of the house. “I’ll
drive!”
Cas and Dean scramble into the car, and Dean pulls out of driveway, heading not
towards the local movie theater, but to their favorite place where they can be
alone. Cas shuffles through the cassettes Dean keeps in the glovebox. After a
few minutes, he decides on Zeppelin, much to Dean’s pleasure.
As ‘Whole Lotta Love’ pours out of the speakers, Cas watches the countryside
slip by his window. Soon, the fields of corn and wheat fade into plain grassy
expanses, bordered by the winding river. Dean pulls on to the dirt road most
people would drive by, finally coming to a stop on a grassy bank of the river.
Cas clambers out of the car, trailing a blanket behind him.
After spreading the blanket out, Cas sits down, reclining on his elbows and
watching the river rush by. It takes a few minutes for him to notice Dean
hasn’t sat down with him. Instead, Dean is leaning against the Impala, watching
everything about Cas; the way his wings unconsciously ruffle when he’s
thinking, the way his mouth curves into at least half a smile at all times, the
way his sharp blue eyes see everything.
“Babe?” Cas asks, his wings flicking nervously. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect,” Dean murmurs, dropping to his knees on the blanket. He
cradles Cas’s chin in his hands. “You’re perfect.”
Cas blushes, avoiding Dean’s insistent eyes. “I don’t know about that,” Cas
answers, laying his hand over Dean’s.
“Cas,” Dean whispers, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Cas’s nose. “You are
wonderful and funny and smart, and I freaking love you.”
Dean smothers his own insecurity and the small gasp that escapes Cas’s lips
with a passionate kiss, letting the heat of Cas’s closeness drown him again.
After a moment, Dean leans back and settles into the spot on the blanket next
to Cas.
“I love you, too, Dean,” Cas replies, his voice suddenly serious. “Listen,
Dean, I know it’s kind of far off, but when school starts again-“
“It’s barely August, dude!” Dean laughs, letting his fingers dance over Cas’s
chest.
“I just have to tell you this, okay?” Cas asks, pleading with his eyes for Dean
to listen to him. “I’m not like anyone else at our school. I just don’t fit in
very well. With anybody. The humans won’t have me, and the angels don’t want
me.”
“I’ll have you, gladly,” Dean whispers, nuzzling Cas’s neck. However, Cas pulls
away from the loving touch, no matter how much he wants it to continue forever.
“It’s not going to be this easy, when you realize by loving my, you’re damning
yourself,” Cas mumbles, watching the sky intently. The sun has fallen behind
fluffy white clouds, casting shadows over everything. “And I just want you to
know that it’s okay.”
“What’s okay?” Dean asks, searching his friend’s face for an answer. All he
sees is Cas’s eyebrows knotted together and his eyes swimming with the threat
of tears.
“Whatever you do,” Cas whispers. “Whatever you choose to do is okay.”
“Cas,” Dean murmurs, stroking Cas’s cheek. “I’m not going to let any of those
idiots get between me and you. You’re all I need. All I want. Only you.”
“You can’t know that for sur-“
“You’re the only one for me, Cas. I’m sure of it,” Dean whispers, pressing a
soft kiss to Cas’s lips.
“You’re sure?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” Dean answers, watching the
relief wash over Cas’s features. With a new purpose, Dean leans in and kisses
Cas again, this time slipping his tongue into Cas’s mouth.
“I love you, Dean,” Cas mumbles against Dean’s lips, as he closes his eyes,
letting Dean’s presence calm him for the moment.
End Notes
     Woo, third Destiel fic done! Please, tell me what I could use
     improvement on! It means so much to me that you took the time to read
     this.
     Thank you so much!
     -Leah
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