Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1359652.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Castiel/Sam
      Winchester, Castiel/Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Castiel
  Additional Tags:
      Military_Dean, Altar_Boy_Castiel, Sex_in_a_Barn
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-24 Words: 3589
****** The Bible Belt ******
by HappilyInhuman
Summary
     Dean learns that being gay may not be as evil as he was taught
     growing up. AU: Not Hunters, and they live in the bible belt.
     Past Destiel, Wincest.
     Established Sastiel.
     Eventual Wincestiel.
At least it isn't winter, Dean tells himself as he steps off the helicopter
pad. It shouldn't have been as cold as it was though, if the time of year were
to be an indicator. June and the clouds were an ashen grey and the grass looked
a pale yellow as if it were drowning-in a way it was. There was a bit of dying
corn in the field where the helicopter pad was, and there was some foliage far
off to the sides, but even the trees looked silently fed up with the amount of
rain they'd received.
Honourable discharge, he thought as his feet sunk into the mud around him, he'd
been standing still for too long. At least, he thought, the wound was at rest.
He had to move though, and he clenched his hand angrily around the newly issued
cane, pulling his boots out of the mud and starting forward. His knee
protested, the gun-shot wound hissing in pain. He knew he'd recover-he always
did-but not everyone believed him this time, and so he was home. He could feel
the ground below him literally swallowing up every time he took a step, but as
he moved more quickly, he began to feel more grounded.
His father, a proud ex-military man himself had been waiting to pick him up,
and Dean could already hear the car from there, bursting with life and music.
From there, Dean almost thought he could hear Sammy's voice, had Sammy really
not already left for college?
Once Dean pushed through the brush at the side of the field he could see the
car, and the man who'd been charged with carrying his things to the car rushed
forward to the trunk, loading Dean's things before rushing back to the
helicopter. Dean watched him go, he didn't know the man, but then again it
really didn't matter all too much. When he turned back toward the car he could
see that Sam was still there, his head clearly visible in the passenger side
window.
Too gloomy to demand the passenger seat, Dean jumped into the back seat,
swinging the door closed with a huff and he felt the car start moving. He could
tell that his dad and Sam were trying to talk to him, but he decidedly tuned
them out until he realised that the car was heading away from the house. The
sounds of the car came back to him in a rush.
"I don't know what's wrong with him." Sam said. Dean's expression darkened.
"Where are we going?" Dean finally demanded.
"Church," his father spoke up, "Castiel says you didn't write him either. When
he found out you hadn't even written to us, he was very concerned, Dean, you
can't just shrug everyone off."
Dean was awe-struck. How long had it been since he'd allowed himself to see
Castiel? Close to two years, since he'd come home for Christmas when he was
twenty and his father had insisted he and Sam come with him to the Novak's
Christmas party at the church. Hadn't seen him before that for God knew how
long. He could still remember how Castiel had looked, eighteen at the time and
still acting as altar boy for his father's church-the church where his father
was pastor. He remembered the way that Castiel, in his innocent white clothes
had looked up at him with a question in his eyes. Dean still didn't know what
he'd been asking.
The building was tall and pure white, stained glass windows of colour winding
up the curved sides. A lot of churches were boxed and angular, but the Novaks'
was circular with the altar in the centre and the cross hung above it. The rows
of seats were a dark, rich, stained wood and the lighting was yellow but
bright. It was a bit unconventional a set up, but they taught and led like any
other, Castiel's father saw to that.
Castiel was waiting at the entrance for them, and as they walked straight past
the small bowls of holy water, Castiel heard them, stood up, and turned around.
"Dean?" He called, seeing the man and quickly exiting the row of seating where
he had been sat. He stopped in front of Dean, who was silent and showed no joy
at seeing him.
Dean could see Castiel's eyebrows slowly furrowing in frustration, and it
reminded him of how Castiel had looked in the back of his dad's truck when Cas
was fourteen and Dean was sixteen and they had been best friends. The way
Castiel had looked as he stargazed, and their eyes met. Their lips were
touching before Dean had come to his senses and pushed him away, and Castiel
had furrowed his eyebrows just like that, frustrated and hurt. Dean's heart
protested thinking of it.
"Will you be coming to tomorrow morning's service?" Castiel asked hesitantly,
"...It will be Sunday..."
"Sorry Castiel, I don't plan on it." He replied harshly, even though he could
immediately tell his father wanted to smack him upside the head for saying it.
Castiel's face fell further, if that were even a possibilty. Castiel didn't
know what else to say, so he was silent as Dean turned away toward his father's
stern look. When he looked back, he saw Castiel staring at Sam, and Sam staring
at Castiel, and he stared at them both, confused. When they noticed he was
looking at them, Sam looked away and started toward his brother and father,
pretending he hadn't done anything.
Dean glanced warily at him before letting it go.
 
The bed was cold and unwelcoming, and groaned as Dean flopped his tired body
down upon it. He groaned and yawned, stretching with his eyes closed before
staring at the ceiling and remembering the way that the party had gone two
years ago. Sammy was hanging off of him, which Dean had found strange at first,
but later decided was due to the fact that Dean had been away so long, and
Castiel was overly interested as well, but hid it almost completely. Castiel
approached them several times, attempting to make small conversation, but
finding it progressively more difficult as the night progressed.
Their father had ignored them in favour of talking conservative politics, god,
and guns with the adults, the talk of choice among the majority of the people
in the rural south where they lived.
When they finally returned home, Sam had sat in Dean's room with him in silence
for a few minutes before turning to go, it was four pm and it was getting dark
outside. Sam returned a few minutes later, his sixteen year old shreds of
innocence showing through as he asked, "Are you going to come eat Christmas
dinner?" Dean looked up with a scowl.
"If you bring me food we can eat together here." Rather than being deterred as
Dean had hoped, Sam ran away before returning with two plates full of
traditional Christmas dinner. "Sammy..." Dean said as he was handed one of the
plates. Sam sat on the opposite side of the bed, his own plate sat in front of
him. Dean started eating anyway, silent, before muttering, "Thank you." Sam
looked up at him in surprise as he realised Dean was already eating.
"Don't you want to say grace?" Sam asked.
"No." Dean answered.
"Why?" Sam asked, "Dad always wants us to say grace."
"Well I'm not Dad." Dean said firmly, surprised when Sam smiled at the comment.
The two ate in silence, and it wasn't long before the plates were sat on Dean's
night table, and the two were sitting side by side on the bed, the small
television Dean kept in his room blasting colourful cartoons. Dean smiled even
though they were childish, they reminded him of the even younger Christmases
with Sammy, watching those same Christmas cartoons. Sam had been working toward
getting progressively closer to Dean, but Dean was quiet and tried to enjoy it
until he felt two soft lips press against his neck. He shifted away and turned
his head to meet the two big eyes beside his shoulder.
"Sam?" Dean asked, honestly flabbergasted.
"Dean." Sam replied, crawling a bit higher up onto Dean, into his lap. Dean was
a bit too shocked to refuse or reciprocate at the time, not until Sam's lips
were already on his, their hips rubbing together with a friction which made
Dean’s mind go blank. Sam was breathing deeply between the sloppy kisses he was
laying upon Dean’s lips, but soon he moved his mouth down to Dean’s jawline and
worked his way to the neck and he was soon nearing the collar of Dean’s shirt.
“Sammy…” Dean gasped as Sam started undoing the buttons before he flipped them
over, pressing Sam into the mattress and hovering over with with a firm look.
Sam stopped, looking up into Dean’s eyes and searching them for a moment before
he seemed to come to a decision. He waited as Dean  breathed deeply, seemingly
trying to breath in Sam’s essence as his head dipped closer.
Dean’s lips were gently dancing upon the edges of Sam’s lower lip for a moment,
unwilling to touch him full out just yet. He paused before moving up, moving
his lips against Sam’s at an excruciatingly slow pace, moving his hands down
Sam and stopping at his hips. Sam reached his hands up again, slowly grasping
buttons and undoing them, causing Dean’s button up to slowly fall open, the
sides draping Sammy from view until Dean shrugged the shirt off. “Up.” He
commanded, and Sammy sat up for a moment so that Dean could pull the t-shirt
from his torso and throw it over the side of the bed.
“Dean…?” Sam said, feeling Dean’s hands travel downward, he gasped when Dean’s
hand ran lightly again the bulge in the crotch of his jeans before travelling a
few inches up and undoing the button.
“Sammy?” Dean replied, pausing as he grabbed the zipper, not pulling it down
yet. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, suddenly nervous.
“No, no, no!” Sam said, grinning, “Keep going, please!” Sam reassured him. Dean
pulled the zipper down slowly before helping Sam get out of them, taking the
boxers too, and then Sam was free and blushing about his position just a little
bit. Dean stared down at him in interest, taking in the sight of Sam laid there
on display before he realised Sam start to squirm. “Well aren’t you going to
take yours off too?” Sam asked, virginity showing full force. Dean paused,
almost taken aback by the display of innocence. Was he really going to do this
to his brother? Take that innocence away from him?
He jumped up, not stopping despite the sudden look of surprise and upset which
came over Sam’s face as Dean climbed off and away from him, shaking his head
and running from the room. “Dean!” He called, but Dean didn’t stop, and for a
moment Sam laid naked on the bed, the scent of Dean on the sheets intoxicating
him. It was after ten minutes of sitting, sulking in the slowly increasing
darkness that he got up and put his clothes back on.
He sunk to his knees as he collected them, pulling on his boxers and shirt,
picking up his trousers and bringing them to his room in silence. He closed
himself in and went to bed, ignoring the memories of the few moments before,
Dean hovering above him with those lust filled eyes-the sinking feeling in his
chest when Dean ran away. He wished Dean had stayed, even if they didn’t...do
that together as Sam had wished they would for the past few months since Dean
had been gone. He missed him badly, and he wished he hadn’t kissed him for a
moment, so that they could have continued to spent the night together watching
cartoons-but he realised he cared much more about the newly discovered feeling
of Dean’s lips pressed against his. A truly intoxicating memory he was happy to
have, even if he never felt it in real life again.
Dean sat in the living room where his father was sitting getting drunk with
far-right christian conservative friends, unaccepting fiends of people. “Damn
faggots don’t know what they’re doing to America.” One of them hiccupped.
Dean’s blood boiled until his father agreed, and Dean couldn’t disagree with
his father.
 
Dean groaned, hearing a small sound outside the window. He rolled over,
realising he had fallen asleep and looked at the alarm clock, the numbers on
which were shining 1:00. He rolled back over to the other side of the bed and
off of it, rubbing his eyes and heading over to the window, where the moon
light was coating the grass and the roof tops. He was surprised to see Castiel,
in his regular trench coat standing down below the windows, looking up to Sam’s
window. Through the wall, Dean heard Sam move toward the door, out into the
hallway and creep down the stairs. Dean waited until he saw Sam join Castiel
before creeping through his own door and down the stairs, out the back door and
listened until he heard sounds coming from the barn.
“Sam…” Cas moaned as he breathed frantically between kisses, laughing, “Calm
down.”
“Can’t.” Sam said, pulling Castiel’s smaller body flush up against his own,
grasping him through his clothing, even dipping his hands beneath Castiel’s
shirt and rubbing the skin there.
“Stop! I’m shivering!” Castiel laughed, not really wanting Sam to stop, and it
was helplessly humid on this summer night in particular, with the crickets
buzzing so loudly and Dean’s blood pumping so loudly in his ears that he could
barely think. What were Castiel and Sam doing? He gasped when Sam pull
Castiel’s shirt off and threw it across the barn before pressing Cas against a
pile of hay, their lips instantly plaster together again  as Cas gripped at
Sam’s shirt, as if willing it to disappear. Dean could feel himself stirring in
his pants, and it was disturbing him. It wasn’t long before Sam had Cas naked,
and he himself was stripped down to his boxers, holding Castiel’s legs open as
 his stuck his head between them and worked his tongue against Cas’s entrance.
The sight of Cas laying back-moaning, hands tangled in Sam’s hair had Dean’s
lips pressed hard together and his hand against the waistband of his pants,
resisting the urge to touch himself.
“Sam, hurry up!” Cas whined, moaning until Sam took pity on his and removed his
tongue, quickly removing his boxers and positioning himself outside of the
smaller  man’s entrance. As he entered slowly, Dean was almost taken aback by
the way he became even harder just listening to the way Castiel whined as he
was entered, and Sam groaned as he pushed in. When Dean opened his clenched
eyes the sight of the intertwined bodies made him shudder. They were still and
quiet for a moment, the two mens’ lips meeting in a slow, peaceful kiss. “I
love you, Sam.” Cas whispers.
“I love you more, Cas.” Sammy replies, and Dean can feel his heart shattering
into a million pieces, feeling like both the men he’s so utterly in love with
are so utterly unavailable to him now. His dick completely softens at the
thought of it, especially the thought that he’s had both men so utterly laid
out in front of him like a feast and he’d never taken it. Thought he’d be
ruining them-but when he sees them kiss, whispering their love for eachother,
he thinks maybe homosexuality is just as pure a form of love as any other. He
can’t even be mad at them for leaving him behind and in the dark-just a little
sad.
He can barely believe his ears when he hears Cas whisper, “What are we going to
do about Dean?”
“Let him come to us on his own…” Sam said hesitantly, not wanting to give
Castiel too much false hope, but not wanting the smaller man to be sad. With
that Sam started moving, Castiel gripping his shirt in desperation. At the
sight of Sam pulling himself out of Castiel before thrusting himself back in
was enough to distract Dean from thinking about the words he’d just heard. The
sound Cas made putting him on edge and he knew he had to leave. He ran back to
the house, up the stairs, into his room and shut the door. He pounced
unceremoniously onto his bed before letting him hands drift beneath the
material of his jeans and boxers.
 
It was the next morning when he finally recognised the scent which had come to
dominate his bed. He had noticed when he first laid on it when he returned that
it hadn’t smelled like himself very strongly anymore, but he had written it off
as him having been away so long. He realised now that the scent was a mixture
of Sam and Castiel. For a moment before he opened his eyes he dedicated a
moment to imagining Sam and Cas sneaking in there for the first time, realising
it smelled like him and curling up together in the scent-returning
continuously, unintentionally causing his scent to fall away and make room for
theirs.
Sam was making breakfast when Dean headed down the stairs and entered the joint
kitchen-dining area. Sam was speaking to him again, but Dean didn’t have the
strength to listen at that moment, not until Sam stuck his hand in front of
Dean’s face and waved.
“Hello?” Sam called, “Earth to Dean?”
“Huh?” Dean said, suddenly snapping his head toward Sam to look at him in
question. Sam shook his head.
“Tuning me out? Ignoring us all. Being rude to Castiel,” Sam frowned, “God
Dean, I don’t understand what’s getting into you.” Sam turned away to pay
attention to his breakfast before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He
turned a blind eye toward the breakfast cooking on the stove again and made a
show of moving toward the table again and throwing himself down in the chair
across from Dean. “You know Dad isn’t home.” He said, waiting for Dean to reply
before he realised he wasn’t going to. He added, “You can say anything you want
to.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sammy.” Dean replied, honestly at that.
Sam paused, “You kissed Cas when you were sixteen.” He says it as a fact. Dean
nods. “Then you pulled away.” Another fact, Dean thinks that Cas must of told
Sam all of this, and again he can imagine Sam and Castiel curled up together
but now he imagine them having a conversation, kissing every once in a while,
but generally interested in what each other has to say. Dean nods again. “Why?”
Sam asked, genuinely curious.
“Dad and his friends always said gays were evil, and that they were going to
burn in Hell.”
“And you believed them?”
“It was all I’d ever been told!”
Sam is silent before saying, “You know they were lying, right?” Dean is quiet,
staring through Sam.
“I saw you and Castiel together last night.” He says instead of answering, and
Sam is taken aback.
“So?” Sam asked, “Do you think we’re going to Hell?” He asks, repulsed by the
thought of his brother giving into the beliefs of the general population of the
bible-belt where they lived.
“No.” Dean admitted. He paused, “It was beautiful.”
Sam sighs, relieved. “You know we’ve been waiting for you to come to your
senses then?”
“I heard it as clearly as I smelled the two of you all over my bed.” He grins.
“Oh, you smelled that….?” Sam said, almost getting a bit red, “It was all Cas’s
idea...he really missed you.”
Dean smiled at Sam’s quick attempt at a cover up, the first time he’d smiled in
a while. He paused, “Sammy?” Sam looked up at him again, and then Dean said,
“Get Cas over here, and this time...I’ll join you on my bed.”
‘Okay,” Sam says, “But might be a while, he has service this morning at the
church.”
 
“Dean is in there, Sam.” Castiel said as Sam opened the door to Dean’s room.
“I know, Cas.” Sam says.
Dean spins around in his computer chair and smiles at the sight of Sam and Cas.
Castiel glanced up at Sam in question, and Sam sets on a hand on each of
Castiel’s shoulders, ‘It’s okay…” Sam says, and Cas glances toward Dean in
confusion as Sam adds, “He knows everything.” Cas looks back over his shoulder
and up at Sam with his eyes large. He looks back at Dean, who gestures for
Castiel to come over to him, and so Cas and Sam entered the room, shutting the
door behind them and approaching Dean.
Sam could tell that Castiel wanted to jump, pounce on Dean and hug him and kiss
him-and honestly he wanted to do the same...but he felt nervous suddenly. The
uncomfortable atmosphere melted away though, when Dean reached out and grabbed
Cas, pulling him by the waist toward him and onto the chair with him, holding
the smaller man to his chest. “Sam.” Dean called, “Get in here.” And Sam,
feeling invited now, enveloped the two men in his arms.
With two men on him, Dean was sure he was going to need a bigger bed.
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