Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11855178.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage, Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings,
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Castiel_&_Dean_Winchester_&_Sam
      Winchester, Castiel/Dean_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester,
      Castiel/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Wincestiel_-_Freeform, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-
      PTSD, world_war_ii_au, Soulmates_AU, Remix, Castiel_Has_PTSD_-_Post-
      Traumatic_Stress_Disorder
  Collections:
      Remix_Revival_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-17 Words: 10757
****** The lines that connect us. ******
by mols
Summary
     Team Free Will live through Second War being all soulmates of each
     other through Dean's eyes and experiences.
Notes
     I'd like to thank @kisahawklin for betaing and helping me with
     English (not my native language) and plot structure in general. This
     fic isn't exactly "finished" because I had too many ideas, so I'll
     try to finish and get betaining the parts my beta didn't see because
     I wrote after they had helped me xD
  This work was inspired by
      Secondhand_Heart by rivkat
[INTRO]

Dean had never found any inscription on his body, ever. Even during the times
he had tried - and he had really tried - he didn’t find anythinganywhere. He’d
spend hours in the shower, trying to find the words, trying to find even a
little scrawl that would mean he wasn’t some kind of freak that was doomed to
stay forever alone, to never find a lover: someone who would love him so
deeply, like he would them, and that they’d even be willing to give their own
lives for his own, the same way he’d too. But he never found anything, no first
words of any kind, which meant no soulmate to utter them. There was nothing on
his skin or so he thought.

So after awhile, he stopped looking. It had already been decided for him, it
was his fate. There was nothing he could do to change that. Now it was about
accepting this and let it behind - as much hard as it could be. He should be
glad enough to have the love and company of his little brother, and he was - if
family wouldn’t be there for him, who would? He didn’t need a lover, of course
not. He had everything he needed and he should be thankful. His childhood
wasn’t perfect but he had a special person who shared the small and special
things and discovers of life with him.
It took years and his whole childhood to return to the subject again. It just
happened when he found himself in the Army. Much like an obligation – and it
mostly just felt like it, a moral obligation - there was nothing but “love” for
the country in the officers’ speeches, love to their families and themselves -
if they wanted to keep their own freedom, a right for free; not that war wasn’t
the price for their own freedom, the soldiers’ freedom, but they were just a
little part of the American society. Many people would stay in the country,
working in other ways to the war machine: producing supplies or keeping the
natal economy up, for the rest to live the rest of their lives, in the case of
elders, or the beginning, for the so young children.
Not that Dean didn’t believe in what he was doing or he had no pride to fight
back Japan, for example, which attacked his country first. Dean had always been
a fighter and he always tried to do his best and defend who couldn’t defend
themselves. The only problem was that he was in a really complicated time in
his life; he was trying to accept and deal with the fact that he felt all alone
since Sam started bit by bit distance himself from him, furthermore he had
never fit so well as Sam had at school. Besides, he had been through and
through the war when he made his mind in that very sceptical and practical way
about the whole process that was war. Even after the camps, and then after the
bombs in Japan. He knew there were a lot of motivations that weren’t good, that
a war, especially from the camps’ perspective, was the worst thing a human
being could project.

Either way, Dean could’ve never imagined finding such discoveries in the Army,
between the so manly men that would go to fight the biggest war the world has
ever witnessed, against those disgusting Nazis and their Asian allies – besides
the Italians, who were very much forgotten.

It all started when Dean’s platoon was presented to their new second
lieutenant. It was exactly at first sight! He felt deeply attracted to (t)his
beautiful and composed lieutenant, owner of two beautiful big blue hues,
transparent and light as the seas surrounding faraway tropical islands. Dean
had met him when they were about to be shipped to England – or to the Pacific
theater - to go to war as his dad had brought him up to. Because Dean grew up
with this idea, to turn into some kind of life saver at some point, having in
mind that he should do something after being a factor - at least for himself -
in his mom’s death in a car accident. He had witnessed every single drop of
blood falling from her forehead over the wheel, he still could imagine it
vividly to that day. The memories always came back to haunt him because if he
hadn't been sick, if it hadn't been for him, she would be alive, taking care of
Sammy while he went to war as any other civilian of the required age and
physical fitness.

Before Castiel, Dean had thought he would never love anybody else as much as he
loved his younger brother, what he did more than he should – and Dean knew it
almost since forever, as he realized how he felt about Sam, how special he felt
about his brother. There were times in which they exchanged some kisses
sometime before the war, thinking it all was a joke and for no reason but to
pass the time; while deep down, Dean knew that the only love they knew was from
each other since dad was never present when they needed him the most. When Dean
got to the Army, and then the war, he knew what it was and it wasn’t just
brotherhood.

Between Castiel’s arms, his Captain by the time they were in the middle of
European occupied territory, he could understand, and stop denying to himself
that his love for his brother was very similar - if not identical - to the love
he had for Castiel. The passion he felt for him, the need, the love he felt to
touch Cas and draw himself into the curves of his body. It was all too
familiar, even though different since he had never lay down with Sammy, he had
been too young – he would never! Besides, Castiel was very different from
Sammy, selfless, generous, understanding.
Not that Sammy was always selfish, but Sammy hadn't been raised like him, like
Dean, and probably Castiel as well. Sammy was protected from the rough edges.
Of course he took a lot for granted; although he’d come to realize how much
Dean had given up for the wellbeing of him and their dad. It took time and
distance for Sam to realize what Dean had been to him and for the both of them
while John was out of reach. When Dean got a job or when Dean was ordered by
their father to take care of Sam when Dean could just go out and let Sam by
himself sleeping.


-


Dean didn’t like to give much thought to his own feelings, especially not when
they were about charming male fictional figures that he was supposed to look at
as an inspiration, not as a target of affection and subtle romantic desire from
his side. Either way he thought about that, though, he had his own tastes and
he wasn’t really fighting them.

He was definitely very into story-telling, particularly radio soap operas -
especially adventurous ones, while he had a soft spot to romantic narratives
led by strong and appealing characters. After a while, it came Hollywood
movies, like It Happened One Night and Gone with the Wind; Clark Gable was his
favorite.
He got to know several of those shows while at home with Sammy alone; the two
of them sat together on the red living room carpet in front of the big rounded
radio, listening in silence and curiosity to the last adventures in one of
their favourite shows. Many times those shows, those stories ended up being
their bedtime stories. Dean listened to them every night, sometimes repeating
the lines to himself until he memorized them, so he could keep them with him
even when the radio was silent.

Dean also liked to listen to cooking broadcasts. At first, the shows were used
out of necessity after a quite lucky discovery. During one of those nights when
John fell asleep, drunk, listening to the radio as if looking for an
(unrealistic and grotesque) answer for all they had been through: Mary’s death,
the very first few years before the Depression struck hard on Americans’
households, the fact that they were just the three of them while John couldn’t
deal with all the responsibility by himself, taking care of the kids, working,
doing the chores... while Sam and Dean hadn’t had dinner yet.
Sam was very quiet as he moved his token over the board after rolling the
dices. After a while, Dean noticed Sammy sighing and bending his head onto the
floor by the corner of his eye.

“Dean, I’m hungry…” Sammy whined, pulling the old green t-shirt helm of his
brother. They were lay down on the living room’s carpet, listening to the radio
and lazily playing Monopoly to pass the time.

Dean didn’t look at him - it pained him to see his brother sad and hungry. It
also felt frustrating to have to find an answer to their problems so quickly,
because the consequences were just right there, like his brother’s hunger. He
tried to plan a solution for their mutual need anyway. They couldn’t keep
eating cornflakes the whole day. It wasn’t healthy, nor did it feed them well,
and He couldn't let his brothers health slipt.

So he caught himself listening to the radio’s commercials before coming back to
the air a cooking broadcast, which then he started listening carefully as his
own stomach started growling threatening.

He shot a very fast glance, a glimpse over his shoulder to Sammy, not really
seeing him:

“I have an idea,” he said, and walked into the kitchen. “Call me when it gets
back from commercials.”

Dean ran and quickly collected all the ingredients he could find that the lady
on the radio had just listed. He put them all on the kitchen table and looked
at them carefully, trying to see if he had forgotten anything.

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

Dean ran to him, trying to grab all the ingredients and bring them with him.

“Quick, Sammy, take the notepad.”

Sam nodded eagerly and took a notepad and pen over from a side desk beside the
couch.

They sat side by side listening to the recipe's instructions as Sam took notes
of the measurements. Dean could hear and sense that hunger was still acting on
him by tv quiet whines and the rumble of his stomach, but Dean tried to ignore
them in order to take care of the problem. 
They made a mess of the kitchen and dirtied and messed a lot of the home
appliances and the wooden furniture, but they were even able to eat what they
produced. Dean passed the whole night trying to clean everything, before his
dad was wide awake again, at the same time he was even able to be proud for a
second for what he had been able to make.

It didn’t turn out very well that first time, but soon he was able to do a
couple of simple dishes.

After that, he got used to listening to the broadcast and writing down recipes
just for the fun of it. Bit by bit, he started making real meals for them when
dad wasn’t available. He even ended up cooking for all three of them, after a
couple of test runs and John’s approval.

With time, he realized how preparing food started feeling good, especially when
he started experimenting with and improve the recipes.

Sam used to genuinely cheer when dad let Dean make their meal instead. He used
even to say Dean had a natural talent all the time he tasted a new meal. Dean
didn’t believe him very much - in himself, but he was happy that Sam liked his
food and that he was able to feed the both of them.

Dean also learnt how to do the many house chores with that same broadcast. Dad
indeed made most of the house chores, he wasn’t all that bad, he was mostly
just a sad man, Dean told Sam once when his younger brother was getting older,
more aware of things. Sam didn’t seem to agree or take his point entirely. Sam
actually “antagonized” John, in how he let things go to the way they were. How
Dean bit by bit came to be as responsible for himself as for dad and him, Sam.
Dean didn’t see it like that during the time. He used to think Sam was too
harsh on dad.


-


As Dean got older, his habits and pastimes evolved with the increasing
popularity of hollywood movie productions and the consequences of the
Depression era in the 30’s. Through the radio, he found out about cinema and
movie theaters, and the prices of movie tickets, besides a part time job to add
income to the household. At night he started fleeing to the nearest movie
theaters to watch and rewatch his favourite Hollywood movies whenever he could.
They were such a new and revolutionary kind of entertainment that he never got
tired of them! He loved them very, very much. His eyes shone and his heart beat
faster each time a movie started with some drums based opening.
Sometimes he even dragged Sam with him, so his little brother could understand
his passion and also enjoy this new way of seeing storytelling. Good thing was
that as older as Sam got, he got more and more quiet when it came to watch to
understand the plot instead of questioning Dean about anything apparently odd
that didn’t seem to make sense in the known context. Dean also loved to see how
overwhelmed and speechless Sam seemed to get every time something bright and
incredible happened on the screen; it felt like he had given Sam a special and
early birthday gift.
With growing, it also came discovers and fears they had never felt before. As
they barely knew anybody and they were always traveling and moving out from
schools, the only reference and people they could turn to in case of fear,
anxiety and other emotions were each other. And when they reached puberty, both
of them had very little idea of what was happening and how fast things should
go: like the body hair growth seemed to go too slow, their voices were changing
and they made fun of each other a lot - at the same time they were both
insecure about these changes - they were getting hard while sleeping and etc.
Sam was 16 when they exchanged their first kiss in the middle of a hormonal
wrestling match. It all started as a fake fight filled with laughter and
teasing while sprawled together on the ground. When they came to themselves,
especially Dean who was older and over his brother, they got to realize they
were kissing. They were kissing while hands grasped t-shirt and Sam’s hands
were around Dean’s ears. Dean gave Sam some last wet pecks before pulling away,
startled at himself and the other.
It took an year, though, for it to get frequent for them to make out during
nights out. Dean used to think - and then systematically try to ignore - it was
too wrong and Sam, in his rebellious teen years, seemed to find it funny until
he realized how strong they felt for each other. Until then, they tried to
ignore anything or any idea that what they were doing wasn’t exactly right.
But the breaking point just came one chill day of Fall. They had been inside
the whole day and they were bored to death by the time the sun was setting and
the sky was purple golden, so Dean did as he always did and dragged Sammy out
of home with himself. It was cold enough outside and pleasant warm enough
inside to make a teenager has doubts about going outside, but Dean had his own
tricks to make his brother get out of home.
They headed to the movie theater they used to go to, the place they were the
most comfortable in and where entertainment was guaranteed. There they also
found spots to be let alone and enjoy the things they knew had to be done
hidden. Like expressing their relationship in completeness and kissing was
something they got used to express feelings and sensations they just got to
know in the last few months. Sharing kisses under the shadows of a dark room
barely illuminated by the movie screen or under the dark shadows projected by
the city lights under the dark sky. It was what they were doing in the middle
of a movie session and after, in a more empty room in the same floor of the
building.
They kissed carelessly as they knew none came inside too further to notice
them. Dean hands wandered down and up Sam’s back as Sam held Dean’s head, under
his brother’s body. Nothing seemed to matter when they were wrapped around each
other, covering each other in warmth and protection.
“Damn,” Dean let out as his kisses went down Sam’s jaw while Sam panted and
breathed profusely under him.
Everything seemed fine and perfect, but Dean was starting feeling how Sam was
stilling under him - although he was trying to ignore it, because Sam was still
caressing and combing his hair.
“Dean, you love me, right?” Sam asked once, while Dean was preoccupied kissing
down his neck, pressing Sam back against a couple of seats.
“Yeah, of course,” Dean said, his voice muffled against his brothers neck.
Sam whined low in his throat and didn't say anything for a while.
Dean took a minute before looking up, his hair mussed and in disarray after he
had been nesting on his brother's shoulder.
“What?”
Sam shook his head and turned his head aside. He was hiding something and it
seemed to be eating him up inside.
“What is it, Sammy?” Dean straightened his back, trying to make Sam’s eyes meet
his, but Sam kept avoiding them anyway.
“It’s…” Sam started.
“It’s--?”
Sam shook his head again and sat up before his brother. He looked back at Dean
and reached to Dean’s arms, curling his fingers around the inner part of his
elbows. His hands lingered there, squeezing for a few seconds before pulling
away, sighing.
“It’s...You know that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he lowered his head, his eyes
were getting redder and redder around the edges. “Dean, you saw how the kids
looked at us. They were--”
Sam stopped abruptly, looking aside, avoiding Dean’s eyes again. Dean knew that
he was about to cry - if he let himself. Dean had no idea what to say. Sam was
right, of course he was. He had been ashamed and feeling guilty for quite a
while, but then it felt...natural? It felt like everything he needed, the two
of them together, pressed together and sharing body heat.
“Tell me,” he said dryly. He knew, he had seen how those kids had grimaced when
they caught them, around a corner on the back side of the cinema building.
Sam sniffed, sighing.
“Disgusted.”
Dean nodded, backing up. His eyes were pinned to the ground as he tried to
swallow the shame he felt, the fear and the guilt he also felt making its way
into his heart, poisoning it. It wasn’t disgusting, right? It had never felt
disgusting when only the two of them knew about it. Although they hadn't known
any acquaintance, family friend or even fictional character that dated their
siblings, it didn’t seem disgusting to them, even when they knew others found
it like that. They knew it was supposed to be wrong for all people - even when
for what reason they couldn’t tell; but they had never really heard about the
subject in a way that they felt recognizable through it.
“You want us to stop?”
Sam didn’t answer. Dean looked up. Sam was still fighting the urge to cry. It
seemed to be hard to connect, love and intimacy, that kind of intimacy they
had, those caresses exchanges they had. Love was supposed to be pure and the
way they touched and saw each other, and felt about each other: it wasn’t kids
stuff, it wasn’t pure like angels and kisses on the cheek or one or two pecks
after visiting their loved ones.
Dean was going to ask again when Sam stopped him by pressing a finger on Dean’s
lips.
“Please, can we give it some time?” Sam finally answered.
So Dean gave Sam some time, and they never quite got back to where they were.
Of course they were brothers; they helped and fought each other, fought other
people for each other but Sam seemed to fear what contact would stir from them,
so they barely touched each other, much less hugged. So Dean thought it was all
over for them, that Sam had decided that there was no coming back, that the
right thing was what they were now, what they were not doing now.
With the distance came the feeling of solitude and the recurrent sensation of
emptiness, then. At least for Dean, who was loyal to his routine and a little
averse to change. Also because he had an unique and intimate relationship with
his brother, which was hard to emulate with others, with strangers.
Even before Sam had decided to go to college, when dad was obligated by medical
conditions to settle down, which led them to live more like the others, to
attend the same school, the same shops, the same buses everyday.
Sam seemed to find comfort in this, Dean not so much. Change was a constant in
their lives, of course, but they were together since forever, they had shared
too many days and nights. It was harder to get used to, to Sammy to be away
more than to be with him in their home.
When Dean informed his family he had enlisted to go out in combat overseas,
though, Sam suddenly stormed out of the living room where the family was
gathered to his own, letting the door hit loudly against the doorframe.
Dean remembered the next day pretty well, the day after he had informed his
family he was going out to a training camp in a few days since he had just
enlisted.
It was still Summer of 41, the curtains and the wooden floor were painted with
a very hot and liquid golden light provided by the sun rays.
The day was hotter than ever, a couple of hours after lunch time. Dean felt the
sweat gathering over his skin, the short bangs attaching to his forehead as he
walked through the house.
Sam had been avoiding him the whole day until then, when Dean knocked on Sam's
door, who was incredibly not at one of his friends house. Probably because he
had been outside the whole morning long.
“Sammy?” Dean asked, retracting his hand.
Nobody answered. Dean waited a minute and then pushed the door, finding a very
quiet room with Sam lay down aside, in a summer clothes reading a book or
pretending to while the other side of the bed was covered on sunbeams.
It took the time of a long and intentional intake of breath for Sam to answer.
He was purposely trying to ignore Dean.
“What do you want?” Sam asked, dryly but somehow showing in his quiet and
hoarse voice tiresome and fragility, besides the very obvious childishness of a
spoiled child he didn’t let show most of the time.
Dean looked at him, then at the window on other side. They couldn’t leave it
like this, not now.
“To know if we are alright.” He needed to know before he went away.
Sam kept in silence again.
“Why do you care?”
Dean frowned, turning his head back. He was suddenly a bit speechless. His
mouth gaping and then closing as he swallowed thickly, not knowing how to back
that.
“You had already decided to go, so go,” Sam added, sighing and rolling on the
bed as if he was nervous and in discomfort.
“I know,” Dean answered, “I’m going as soon as I can.”
Dean kept staring at Sam, confronting him silently, feeling his cheeks burning
but ignoring it. He felt like Sam needed to react in a better way to him going,
telling Dean at least something that meant Sam was good with him before he went
away for maybe not even coming back ever more.
Sam didn’t say anything, instead he just rolled a page from his book.
Dean shifted his glance and rolled his eyes, sighing. He turned aside to go out
when Sam talked again.
“Close the door when you go.”
Dean rolled his eyes again and went out.
He couldn’t oblige Sam to be nice to him, to show that he cared about Dean.
And that was the last time they talked straightforward about the subject. After
that, they barely said good morning and good night before Dean was riding a
train to the camp.


-

When Castiel was presented to him, Dean almost didn’t have the breath to reply
or to react, but of course – and thank God – and he replied to his Officer,
sloppy as it could be but he did. His hand raised to his forehead, trying his
best to not shake much.

Castiel frowned a bit but nodded and “At ease.” Something like a smile shone
from those calm and reassuring blue eyes.

They exchanged a brief glance and Cas nodded again, walking along the line.

Dean could barely look at him again. He was sweating cold with the
presentation. Was it possible? To feel such an emotion being unable to feel
like others, gifted to belong and connect, to have a fit pair? Weren’t people
without the words unable to feel like this? As if something bigger than
themselves were being displayed to them, warming their hearts in a way that led
to comfort and reassurance? Besides anxiety and longing?

He couldn’t know, he had never talked to someone in depth about the subject,
his main reference had always been the radio, and maybe his younger brother.

Of course, the next days turned to be days of observance. While Dean made his
own tasks and followed his own routine, keeping going about his own duties, he
liked to watch the lieutenant working, talking to the other officers; walking,
being.

Mostly Castiel was quiet and only brought the attention to himself to stand up
for his men when they were treated poorly by another commanders and even
received himself the punishment other officers wanted to give to his soldiers
when they didn’t do anything to deserve it.
He was a good man, it wasn’t hard to discover. A good man, but he was still
kind of awkward socially speaking.

Cas barely drank or talked about girls. He mostly stayed quiet during lunch and
dinner times, seeming to watch the soldiers, their talking and their ways. Dean
felt his body burn every time the crystalline blue eyes landed on him for any
reason, they were so beautiful and honest, and Castiel had such a great and
strong posture.

Dean also had a hard time talking when Castiel was present and when he did, he
felt his whole body shuddering under those eyes. He even stuttered when he
realized the eyes coming to him; he wanted so much to say something smart but
Castiel didn’t seem to pick up movie lines, and even if he did Dean couldn’t
know.

When he met Castiel alone to pass forward a message, he felt equally
overwhelmed by Castiel’s physical presence but when Castiel smiled to him and
looked so friendly, Dean felt such a boost of confidence as if he had done
something good and Cas trusted him to keep going. He felt himself on the peak
of a mountain, trying to not disappoint when Castiel seemed to have such a
faith on him.

One of those nights, Castiel recalled Dean inside:

“Sergeant Winchester.”

Dean looked around, nervous. Nodding and holding his cap, he headed back
inside.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

And so Dean obliged, closing the door behind himself. He felt his whole body
shaking or almost there.

Slowly he turned around to Castiel, who was smiling. Dean had no idea why he
was smiling so he instinctively went to check his clothes. He loved to eat and
when he did, sometimes he dirty his clothes.

Castiel chuckled. “There’s nothing with you.”
He walked closer to Dean, in a very measured pace.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Castiel continued, blinking, peacefully
looking.

“Y-yes, Sir?”

Castiel smiled, light-hearted.

“You don’t remember the words?”

Dean looked at him, he blinked. He shifted his eyes, as if trying to get deeper
inside his head, trying to dig his memory to remember the words, what they
meant, if they meant anything of import.

He shook his head confused. He had no idea what was he supposed to remember.

“You’re my soulmate, Dean,” Castiel said, more serious.

Dean’s green eyes went wide as he looked back at Castiel in confusion and fear.
It couldn’t be. He wasn’t supposed to be anyone's soulmate. He had no words, no
sentences. He was doomed to be forever by himself, bearing his solitude as his
only possible fate.

Castiel seemed to relax so physically and audibility, that Dean looked back at
him. His lips parted.

“You didn’t know,” Castiel stated, confused himself.

Dean shook his head, frowning.

Castiel offered his hand, restraining himself from reaching out for Dean,
closing his hand in a fist very slowly.
“Look at me, Dean,” Cas said, seriously.
Dean just looked for an instance, and what he glimpsed was Castiel tugging his
shirt and showing his collarbone, his words in black: Y-yes, Sir.

“Take my hand,” he ordered.

Dean looked up to him, startled.
“It isn’t an order, soldier, but it can be.”

Both of them chuckled. Dean slowly reached for Castiel’s hand, he felt his body
shuddering violently and warmth spreading across his body. It felt home, it
felt like coming back home for the second time.

It meant that he could have been at home before, in this way, too.

Dean was then took out of his thoughts as Castiel tugged his closer by pulling
Dean by the nape and made their lips meet, hard.
It felt so right! It had felt as right just like only another time.
Dean’s eyes were still closed when Cas pulled away and started overthinking a
bit his former actions.
“I know I’m your CO--”
“I don’t care,” Dean said, breathing in deeply Cas’ scent, of his office too so
he could be reminded of them all when he felt the need of something good to
recall, to distract him from the things he probably would see in combat.
“Dean…”
“I don’t care, Sir.” Dean opened his eyes, staring back at a serious Castiel,
“You’re my soulmate.”
“Yes,” Cas answered, as if he were the NCO. Dean smiled. Cas blushed at the
teasing grin.
“So why the fuck someone can say anything about us?”
Cas looked up and let out a twist of lips, in a very shy and fugacious smile.
“Don’t say ‘fuck’ to your superior, Winchester.”
Dean rolled his eyes, but complied:
“Yes, Sir.” Saluting in a mocking way, although he didn’t mean actual
disrespect.
“Dismissed,” Cas shot a glance at him and walked over to his desk as Dean
walked to the door.
“Yes, siiir.” He chuckled to himself as he closed the door behind his back.

-


After a couple of first awkward intimate encounters, they fell together very
quick, just like it was written on their skin and maybe somewhere else, in
another dimension in which they could have been created.
It was also Castiel who discovered his inscriptions.

Inside and bucked in an old european house, Dean found himself lay down on his
belly as Castiel touched him between the legs, his thumb pressing against and
rubbing his most hidden hole.

War was still going on, but there were these still moments in which they tried
to forget every wound, every death in each other’s warm, live body.

He whined under his breath as he felt the thumb teasing and making it ticklish.
It all wasn’t something that was supposed to happen but it nonetheless felt
good, felt amazing.

His eyes rolled back into his skull as Castiel touched him, in his comfortable
silence. Just between his arms Dean felt possible to shut up and to grunt
against a faded coloured pillow while his reared ass was touched, smoothly by
the other.

“Dean,” Cas asked, parting the asscheeks.

“Mhm?”

“Ther--”

Dean interrupted him with an yelp and a scream as his fists closed around some
sheets.

“Oh, fuck.” Dean’s eyes were screwed together as he felt himself throbbing.
The sound of Cas’ chuckle resonating against his back came not longer after,
making him more ticklish and distracted to care about their supposedly former
subject.

It would be just after they were lay down together, cuddling the much time they
could that Cas informed him:

“Your inscriptions,” he kissed Dean on the shoulder, “They are between your
asscheeks.”

At that, Dean laughed out loud. That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard
but then, it was very possible to be true. Cas barely joked and when he did, he
didn’t about these kind of things.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah,” Castiel made a pause, seemingly to be thinking hard about it, “There is
more than one.”

“Oh.”

The realization came bit by bit to be formed and understood inside his mind.
He should have known, shouldn’t he? He loved his brother. He loved Castiel. He
had that kind of heart, that big kind of heart that fit both of them. He just
could hope Cas could understand that. He didn’t want to lose him, nor did he
want to lose his brother.

He used to say that he wasn't really queer, that a man sometimes just found
comfort in the arms of the people available in a place like this one, actually
in a war situation like this one. However, it was wrote on his ass, on his
skin. He loved a man and he couldn't hide it from the man himself, either.

“What’s the other inscription?”

Cas hummed, looking down, pulling away before tugging Dean’s asscheeks apart
again, which made Dean yielp once more, ticklish, “Hey!”.

“Dim,” he said, “I had never called you that, had I?”

No, he hadn’t. Dean knew who had, though.

A long time ago little Sammy had showed him the inscriptions on his wrist. At
the time, he hadn't made much of that, the longer inscription was too cheesy to
be his. Something about his eyes being beautiful, as the first words one of his
soulmates would say; but by his own experience brothers would never start their
relationship so affectionate, so serious, so romantic. He could have thought
that one of them were his, because the second inscription was simple and
neutral, but Dean didn’t particularly remember the words, and he certainly
didn’t remember having said them.

He wondered if Sammy had both of them as his soulmates. If the three of them
were supposed to be in an unique and entire relationship. Deep inside, he hoped
so because it seemed a dream come true, even though there were still doubts
about everything in their lives, including their soulmarks not matching.
Sometimes people didn’t fit together, one had the lines, the other had others'
lines; sometimes one simply didn’t have any. On the other hand, Dean didn’t
want to take anything for granted either, because his relationship with Sam was
unconventional and Sam didn’t want them to keep going. At least, he seemed to
be dealing a lot better with the distance than Dean.
Thinking about it, Dean recalled Castiel had his soulmarks on his collarbones
in really tiny script. Maybe he had more than one and hadn’t realized it.
“Dean?” Castiel asked, wrapping Dean’s back with his arms. “Are you there?”
Dean chuckled, he was thinking about all the things he hadn't given much
thought before.
“Yeah, yeah…” he answered, absent minded, “Cas?”
“What?” Cas was kissing down Dean’s upper back, scraping the skin with his
teeth at times.
“Nothing.” He blinked feeling sleepy. Then he recalled a thing Castiel had told
him some time ago. He rolled around on the bed, facing Cas now. “Do you know
that birthmark?” Dean’s eyes lowered to Cas chest, his index finger following,
reaching to Cas’ collarbone.
“Your lines?”
“No, no,” Dean shook his head, looking up for an instance, “I mean the brown
form, in form of an ‘o’”
Castiel frowned, trying to glimpse down his chest:
“What is it?”
Dean licked his lips, he knew Cas was still resistant to the idea:
“Are you sure it doesn’t mean another soulmate--?”
“No,” Cas interrupted, getting serious and stilling. He was indeed resistant,
and still. “There’s nothing that leads me to think that. Actually, I feel
complete with you.”
“I know, Cas.”
“Dean, please,” Castiel shook his head, “We don’t need more questions.”
“Come on, Cas…”
Cas shook his head, cupping Dean’s cheeks. He kissed Dean, letting the kiss
last for a minute or so and pulled away.
“Go to sleep, Dean, we need to go back tomorrow morning.”
Dean sighed and nodded. Castiel wasn’t wrong. They needed this time and the
rest it gave them to get back to the battlefield. Combat was already exhausting
enough when it happened everyday with no day for a pause to rest and enjoy
themselves, an intake of breath even.
“Ok,” he closed his eyes and leaned onto Cas’ shoulder, not really taking the
idea out of his head for all.
 
-


No, war wasn’t easy at all and the moments he had with Castiel in free passes
were rare. Actually, most days, if not almost all days, Dean had to deal with a
new death, a new brother lying down beside him, spread across the ground like a
rag doll and covered in dirty and earth, without anything like a heartbeat or
the intake of breath and their eyes staring up to the nothing. Just like that,
all of a sudden, the boys beside him – mostly replacements – were thrown back
by the force of a bullet and their bodies went back to the ground like trash,
wrinkled around themselves.

Dean had never been prepared for this, none of them had. It was in horror that
he realized bit by bit that it wouldn’t change, not for the time being. He saw
friends, boys the age of Sam dying the same day Dean met them. He saw Benny, a
closer friend, die when his throat was ripped opened by shrapnel from a bomb.
He watched in horror his hand was covered with dark blood and his fingers, deep
in Benny’s throat, showing a nearly endless cavity in the guy’s neck.
War was hell, indeed. There was barely hope to get back home intact or alive,
less than this to have your brothers in Army alive by your side when you get
back (if you would ever, even in a corpse form and it was horrifying enough).
At least, they had each other was what he thought every night, listening to the
bombs in a foxhole in the middle of a what used to be an avenue that was the
way to a main street in a medium size city and holding his own hands, he prayed
for the first time in years to not be exploded just now, or Castiel who wasn’t
there. Cas was always trying to make himself useful, even under the worst
circumstances. Sometimes Dean smiled, wondering why Cas was an Officer when he
acted like a Doc.
He hoped Sam was having a nice life, too, although he missed him and asked
himself if there was a small possibility that Sam missed him as much. The
exactly date Dean was shipped to England, Sam hadn't showed up on the pier or
if he had, Dean hadn't seen him.
Dad had shown up instead, and he didn't comment about Sam’s disappearance from
their lives. Instead, John said he was really proud of his son going up to war
to defend their country and freedom.
Dean nodded, looking down. He was glad for being a reason for pride to his dad,
but he was sad because Sam hadn’t come to say goodbye, maybe the last they
would say anything face to face to each other.
Now though, at enemy territory, as if paying an old promise, Sam’s first letter
arrived to Dean a couple of months after the war had started. Dean had the
same, all creased and folded now, letter into his hands as he stared at the
darkness of the sky, filled with white sparkles whenever a bomb made its way
across the dark territory up there. The sounds were terrible, but he was
singing a song inside his head, his lips barely moving.
The letter said:
Dear Dean,
Dean had already had the content in his head by heart.
I can only hope you can get something out of this. I know my former reaction
wasn’t the best one but your idea to do that of going to war was, no, it is
still bad.
Dean chuckled huskily, closing his eyes for a moment.
You know we didn’t need it, but I won’t talk about it at length now. I hope you
can keep yourself and your men safe.
With love,
Sam
Something exploded closer to him and Dean lifted his eyes up the border of the
foxhole, a body was shove inside his foxhole. He raised his rifle, looking back
at the shadow with wide eyes. He caught Cas’ white and shiny grin and sighed.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas,” Dean sighed, heavily, putting his M1 back to his
side.
“Always ready, huh?” Cas still smiled, but sighed as his breath seemed to slow
down.
“Of fucking course, don’t you think?” Dean’s eyes widened for a moment, in
sarcasm.
Cas chuckled, looking outside. Holland was burning to hell.
“Some good news?” Dean asked, fishing a cigarette from his pants pockets. He
didn’t know if he was more curious or terrified, or even bored.
Cas didn’t say anything and Dean glimpsed him shaking his head. It wasn’t good,
especially the swallowing that he did while pressing his lips. A lot of things
were getting over his shoulders.
“Alright, so give me the light,” Dean grabbed the light out of Cas’ hands.
Castiel chuckled. Not much longer, Castiel would stop grinning and chuckling
like that. Dean would never imagine what would happen to them.



[1945] – Return


The war ended leaving behind hollow men, invisible holes into those soldiers’
chests. Dean had no idea what to do next. He had no job back at the states, nor
had he finished anything beyond high school before coming to Europe. He had no
idea what Sam was doing, since few letters came from him and most of them just
seemed to dodge the important matters – although they seemed to show Sam’s care
for him, despite it being in very subtle lines.

Castiel also took some time before returning. He was the more affected from war
and it seemed that he didn’t even start thinking about the life he would
suppose start living from then on. He seemed to relive stressful and meaningful
moments over and over all the time as the sky started getting darker in the
house they shared after the German surrender. Castiel would barely sleep and
when he did, he asked Dean to sleep on the other bed or he just slept alone in
another part of the building.

The days were better, much better. Daytime and its shining sun, seemed to be a
shield against the old shadows that were their war memories.

Eventually Cas walked down the bank where they were settled and went to meet
Dean in the lake shore, the one they could see from some balconies up the bank
peak.

“I thought you’d never show up,” Dean chuckled huskily, his tanned thighs
pushing through the water as he walked slowly in.

Castiel barely smiled, walking around a rock and sitting on the grass before
the lake. He took his shoes off and let the feet be washed by the cool water.

Dean watched as Castiel stared at his feet and the waves, dancing over them. He
seemed even more lost in his head these days, after the war had ended. He
seemed to be still on the battlefield, in the cold foxholes of the Ardennes
Forest in Bastogne or in a loud and bloody Holland.

“What are you thinking?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked at him, Castiel stared now at the horizon as if having an internal
fight within himself. As if he was trying to suffocate the demons living
inside, without letting them resurface whenever Cas could be found and watched.
As if they could just crumble by themselves

As Castiel didn’t seem to really want an answer, Dean kept his silence.

Out of the blue, Castiel said, “Let's buy a house in the countryside!”
Dean blinked, that was sudden. They had never really discussed moving in
together after they returned home. Most of the time they tried to not think at
all about the past and the future because they couldn’t expect much, although
dreams kept them going, they felt silly and stupid when they came up to reality
again, those ideas gave too much anxiety too.
He looked at Castiel, he seemed dreaming and not at all very much interested on
an negative response, or any response whatsoever.
So Dean just gestured with his head dubiously, looking away from Castiel, his
attention direct to his thoughts, doubts, fears.
Castiel started humming and Dean let his body float under the water, just his
head outside. He just could hope they could figure it all out back home,
wherever it would be.

-


The first time Cas and Sam met, Dean was afraid of Sam’s reaction to them in a
general sense but Sam was too much in grief for his girlfriend to mind just
right now how things should go from there. Sam knew, since the beginning, she
wasn’t his soulmate, but living with her had been a balm while Dean fought
overseas and Sam tried to find a way to live his life by his own, without
depending much on the fact of Dean coming back or not .

He had the lines, both of their lines too as Dean had suspected some months
before.

Cas’ one was stupidly romantic “you have beautiful eyes.” Of course, it would
be kind of like this. It was just his face, deep down he had these ways.

Sam had reacted very slowly to the compliment. It was probably not so often he
received praises, especially not out of a sudden from a grownup man, at the
first time they put their eyes on each other.

His answer was barely an “Oh,” after a first glance and a minute staring back
at Cas.
Something immediately exploded in Dean’s head when he put his head onto it, a
light, a candle of recognition seemed to stir inside his head. It was actually
a birthmark, that small light brown form besides his words on Castiel’s
collarbone.
Cas seemed to notice something different happening too.
“Oh,” he repeated, “I think--”
Cas breathed deeply and sighed:
“Yeah, I do think so, too.”
Dean felt a mixed of jealousy and relief, as if he feared the words didn’t mean
quite that they were all three meant to be together.
“Castiel Novak,” Cas said, offering and shaking Sam’s hand.
Sam nodded:
“Sam Winchester, like Dean,” his lips twisted in an awkward way to show he
wasn’t sure if he should smile, if they were good, Dean knew because he felt
very much the same and had for a long time.
For the effort, Dean almost smiled, but then he closed his mouth as he
remembered how it was their last meeting and how Sam was childish and immature
towards him. He felt like his pride should have at least that moment.
They greeted each other and walked down the train station, in silence. They
shared a silence which tasted to awkwardness and guilty, besides longing and
regret for Dean who remembered very well how things had gone before, when Dean
and Sam didn’t know Cas and they barely looked at each other like before, for
what they had been doing together.
Dean felt cringe at the movement and the odd sounds to his ears, his skin was
filled with goosebumps, so cold his body seemed to get by the uneasiness.
He looked up at Cas and saw the same cringeness. They were still very much out
of that present, Sam’s present.

Sam had informed them in the way to a diner he had been in some kind of state
job while Dean and Cas fought overseas. The boy had always been too intelligent
but at the same time too protected to be sent to war, to the raw reality of
war.
He seemed to try to get them back, their relationship back as before or
friendly as it should be between brothers, brothers who loved each other
brotherly and beyond.
Dean was happy for it and for Cas, too.


[1950] – Settled down


Of course it took ages for them all to talk to each other about their marks, to
try to make it work some way. Fights, arguments, miscommunications and
separations happened over and over around the years before they could stop to
reflect about themselves, their own individual lives, their love interests,
their dreams after the war had ended. Consider their feelings and dreams in a
mature way, after they had a second chance, in the case of Sam and Dean, to try
to work out their differences, talk out their fears and insecurities.

Also, Sam was a lot more bothered about loving his brother (and Castiel,
another man) in that way than Dean was in the end of the war. Dean had seen too
many (unbelievable) things in war to be really bothered by a thing like this.
Plus, he wasn’t supposed to be blamed for something that was done to him, that
he had been born with, was he? He hadn’t chosen to love a brother, as much as
he had been loving another man, his superior in the Army, Castiel.

It would probably be a surprise to the others, if they had ever gotten to know
about who he was and who he loved, that the supposed traditional, “not queer
guy”, the malest male man ended up having the less hard time to get used to
know more about himself than he could ever hoped for. That shame was an old
emotion that he barely had the energy or care to feel while around the people
he most loved in the world.

Of course, it wasn’t all that easy for Dean to accept the whole thing for a
long and harsh time. Although it was proved by science, that there were cases
of same sex soulmates, that they were as natural as heterosexual ones, there
was this mind settling that if you couldn’t produce kids - if you didn’t
contribute to society in that way - you were doing life wrong. On the other
hand, it didn't sound a good enough reason to see himself badly, since if
society didn’t give a damn about them and wished they were dead, why should
they give any damn back to society? The problem was that bringing up lingered
on the back of anyone’s head and it bothered him for a long time before .

When they did meet again, properly, it was a very bright gold afternoon. Summer
was on the sight and on the tan of Dean's legs, besides on the blush on Cas
pale skin, although not as much as in the feel when the temperature seemed to
be lowering each time the sun seemed to drift across the sky as the sunbeams
did as well, being very refreshing to their former burning hot skin.

Dean and Cas had made a house of their own in a different place from the
original Winchesters' place. A place for them only, the new family they were.
Dean was also both scared to come back home and face dad, although desperate
for his approval, for all that he had endured in war, but John wasn't in
Kansas, either, so it all gave him time to get courage to face the things and
people he let behind and stay away from loud and agitated places that seemed to
trigger all too much bad memories.

The place was on the East coast, far away from the city, a good place which
allowed them to breathe and find calmness for them to try to come back to live
like civilians, like the others, the ones that didn’t go to war and didn’t
experience the horrible things they had witnessed first hand.

Both of them still had nightmares because of the war. Sometimes Cas would sit
outside in the middle of the night and slowly break down, crying in silence
until he had no strength to cry more, or in any way fight his nightmares, and
so he came back to bed, crawling slowly to the mattress as if grasping the
sheets, he was grasping for the will to live.

They had no idea if they’d ever make it together, all of them. Sam was such a
distant...person. But destiny was, had always been indeed, a tricky and
capricious thing. It seemed that they were supposed to be together, that was
their fate after all and nothing or few things could change it.
When Castiel lifted his eyes after listening to something rustling the green
grass, he found with his eyes something, or better, someone he never thought
would look for them.

“Sam,” Castiel called, getting up from his seat.

Dean looked up from his beer to the tall framing walking to him.

Sam had a small smile on his lips and mail bag, satchel sitting on his hips,
hanging from his wide shoulders. He seemed tired, older. Not exactly like they
had been after the war, but older than Dean had ever seen Sam.

“Sammy?” Dean repeated, in his own way.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me,” Sam answered softly, looking from one to the other.

Castiel looked at Dean a little startled, not knowing how to react to the
sudden visit.

“Welcome back?” Sam finally said, breaking the ice or trying to.

Castiel nodded at that, then, his lips opening a bit in a smile.

“Welcome back, Sam,” he tipped with his head.

But Sam shook his head, with a tiny smile and were forward to hug Castiel in a
tight embrace.

Cas shook a bit but he seemed to feel comfort there after a while. Dean didn’t
know what to do. He was still very much in shock to all of that what was
happening.

“You too, Dean,” Sam said, pulling away from Castiel and hugging Dean.

Slowly Dean fell onto the embrace and also hugged Sam, taking his brother into
his arms for the first time in years.

In some ways, this embrace was particularly melancholy, if Dean could remember
the word without some kind of sarcasm. It had been a long time and many words
for being said before they met again.

“Welcome to our palace, then,” Dean said, in a tentative ice-breaker. His skin
felt as if it was built to protect him from everything he had been trying to
ignore for all those years.

Sam nodded, letting a small smile escape his lips for Dean’s effort.
It would take a lot to make things better, he was sure of that. Many things
should be talked out, but they survived a war. They had time, they wouldn’t
just survive war to die just after.
“Stay,” Dean said, slowly reaching out for Sam’s shoulder, hesitantly but
showing the intention, “let’s have dinner.”
Sam seemed to consider, nodding a bit. He looked at Cas, they both did. Cas
shrugged softly with a twist of lips, he didn’t mind. Dean thought he didn’t
mind at all. They were all soulmates.
Dean looked back at Sam.
“Sure,” Sam said, reaching out himself to Dean. He looked as if...Dean felt
like he knew what Sam had in mind, that they needed to talk and they could do
it.
 
-
 
During dinner, Sam talked a bit about his job, his life in general while Dean
and Castiel were on war in Europe. How Sam was dating a girl for a long time
and they were even planning to maybe marry soon, although they both knew they
weren’t meant to each other, but they made each other feel good and safe
anyway. She had died, though, in a car accident just like Mary had died. Dean
didn’t like to remember it, but he knew he had done his share after the war to
know that he was punished enough for everything he could have done or not.

After dinner, Dean and Castiel presented their place with a long-forgotten
enthusiasm they didn’t even know they still had. Having Sam around, someone
that hadn’t really been at war felt like a softer way to transition to civilian
life, especially when Sam had kind of understood how things had changed for
them, or at least he understood that they couldn’t pass through war, having
friends dying in horrible ways in front of their eyes, under their palms
without changing in some drastic way.

Dean showed Sam his medals and his uniform. He had showed him some pictures
too, from the camp they had trained and the friends they had made when he was
there. He even pointed the ones dead, although it hurt to remember.

He tried to ignore - because it also hurt him - that Castiel mostly ignored the
comments or tried to. The transition was still going harder and more visibly on
him than on Dean, who superficially seemed to be proud enough to not feel that
bad.
They were at neutral territory most of the visit until Cas decided to make his
peace and talk about it:

“Sam, you don’t need to—“

“Yeah, Sammy, I don’t know if—“ Dean said together with Cas. He didn’t want Sam
to feel obligated to be part of them if he didn’t want it.
However, Sam just rolled his eyes, gesturing with his hands for them to stop
talking and listening to him.

“Can you, guys, stop?” Sam asked between amused and annoyed, “I want to…to see
how it could work, if we can work it out.”
“Are you sure about it?” Cas said, looking down for a moment. “We aren’t...the
same and, you don’t need to take all we’ve through.”
Sam shook his head.
“I get it, guys,” he smiled to them, “I know it’s...different for you, but I
missed you.” He was looking at both of them, even when Cas and Sam had a very
small time knowing each other.
Maybe it was the soulmate thing?

Dean exchanged glances with a little perplexed Castiel.

“Alright,” Dean said a bit reluctant, because he didn’t know how they could
work.
Living just the two of them sometimes felt so exhausting, with all the
communication problems. On the other hand, Sam was another side of them, the
piece that completed their puzzle, who wasn’t as much stuck inside their own
heads and memories, and in the war zone as they were.
“Alright,” Dean repeated and he offered his hand to Sam who shook his head and
tugged Dean in for a tight hug.
“Jerk,” Sam said, what made Dean smile but he didn’t say ‘bitch’, back. He just
felt too tired to do it.
Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder.
“Cas, I’m here for you, too, you know?”
Castiel shrugged shyly, smiling as gingerly. His fingers curled around one of
his arms, like a fragile child or animal.
“Please,” Sam said, more serious, pulling away from Dean. “You two are both
part of who I am.”


-

It wasn’t perfect, obviously it wasn’t. Sam was supposedly just spending his
vacation from work with them – or it was also an excuse, but Dean wouldn’t
argue it, not when everything seemed to come to place and Castiel seemed to be
happier than ever.

The nightmares still happened, but Sam was more opened to ask if Castiel needed
help or just company.

Sam still traveled around for work, but he was back no much longer after he had
gone.

It was a slow process, the whole soulmate thing. Bit by bit, like toddlers
getting to know the world, Dean and his two lovers started getting to know
about each other better, as human beings enough aware of their own feelings,
their positions as civilians, soldiers, public employees.
Once Dean caught them talking, actually having a moment while at times talking
about amenities.
Sam was helping Cas in the kitchen, settling the table as Cas prepared coffee
and baked something to eat along the warm beverage.
Dean could listen from the living room they talking and Sam’s laughter shining
up in the middle of quieter words. The laughter led Dean to think of Castiel’s
shy smile, both inspirational and sweet expressions, that should come together.
He kept listening to them from the hall, while he crossed it to the kitchen.
“By the way, Cas, I’ve never answered you properly,” said Sam, probably
settling the cutlery on the table by the sharp noises.
“About what, Sam?”
Dean could see a bit of them while coming closer, Castiel had his elbows on the
sink while Sam was by the kitchen table, settling the cups and plates down, his
longer hair covering most of his face.
“That your eyes are also beautiful, even more beautiful.”
Dean could just imagine the blush rising onto Cas’ barely stubbly cheeks,
humble as he was, especially in those last months after he had made a major
mistake in Belgium which led to men to be killed because he wanted to save as
many as he could - and couldn't.
“Thanks,” Cas said quietly.
Slowly, Castiel turned around and Sam went closer as Cas lifted his eyes to
Sam’s, Cas looked so fragile under Sam’s strong stature. As slow, Sam leaned to
capture Cas’ lips. They both looked so soft, Dean thought, even when they were
at some points very different. Sam’s hand was cupping Cas’ cheek while Cas’s
hands were over Sam’s shoulders as if supporting himself on Sam.
Dean was at the doorframe when Cas gasped, pulling away to breath.
“Good thing we all get along by now,” Dean commented, smirking, “but to be
honest, I should have been invited previously.”
Sam smirked, rolling his eyes his eyes as he turned back to Dean.
“Hello to you, too.”
Dean came closer and gave them both a kiss, leaning onto his brother as he
rested his chin on Cas’ shoulder.
“Mhmm, good ol’ coffee.”
Cas smiled, humming in agreement.
“You know what we were talking about just now?” Cas said.
Dean hummed, rubbing his face on Cas’ shoulder.
“Have no idea.”
“Of you,” Sam informed, bending backward to see something in the oven, provably
to check if it wasn't burning.
Suddenly Sam had an apple between his teeth as Dean turned to him.
“Me?”
“Yep,” Sam looked over to Dean, “how you kept telling Cas he had another
soulmate while he refused to believe in it.”
“Oh, that's true,” Dean smirked, finishing his bottle of beer. “He would say it
was nonsense, that he had just one mark and that he felt complete with me.”
Castiel blushed a bit:
“I didn’t want to cause more conflicts, Dean,” Cas commented, lowering his eyes
a little, shyly.
“I know,” Dean smiled back at Cas who smiled, too. “And I think something is
burning…”
“Shit!” both Cas and Sam said while they ran to the oven with small towels,
trying to get a cake pan out of the stove.
“Fuck, guys, we’ll need to eat Sam’s veggies, again?”
Sam threw an ugly glance at Dean.
“Yes,” Cas said, with no humor in his voice, what made Sam laugh out.
“Gosh, gimme some coffee for that, then.”
Fin
 
 
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