Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cas - One Week Before the Wedding 

Coming back to a place you’d long ago given up on, feels a bit… bittersweet. Everything is nearly exactly as it was 15 years ago; the convenience shop on the corner, the church in the center, the Roadhouse. The only thing that has really changed is the people. It’s more or less the same crowd, only with more wrinkles and bigger bellies. The stores are more weather-worn, too – the paint faded on the signs and windows by the same sun that has chapped skin and dulled lined-dried clothes until the whole town seems washed out and pale.

Castiel doesn’t get out of his car. His hands grip the steering wheel, the leather creaking beneath his skin. Why is he here? 

Sam and Eileen’s wedding. You’re here for Sam and Eileen’s wedding , his treacherous brain reminds him. 

Sam and Eileen, his best friends since forever. He introduced Eileen to Sam in Stanford. God. Of course they’d get married here. It couldn’t have been Bora Bora, or anywhere else that doesn’t pain him to bits. It had to be here. At least it wasn’t the Barn. Sam and Eileen don’t know much about it, much less the location. That right there is a blessing at least. 

Sam is a nostalgic person, and Eileen enables him. They’re perfect for each other. At least their honeymoon is in Ireland, Eileen’s home country. 

Castiel still doesn’t leave his car. Maybe he should just never get out of his car.

He’s in front of his old house. His parents’ house, which has been standing since the town’s founding. The rustic American farmhouse in the middle of a suburban neighbourhood sticks out like a sore thumb with its large roofs and white statement pillars, expansive porch and the array of windows overlooking the perfectly manicured green lawn. What was once a sleepy western town in between desert states has become a still sleepy town but with more… liveliness. The Novaks are one of the oldest families in Lazarus and well, their refusal to let go of the past shows. The looming threat of his seeing his parents again is… uncomfortable. Naomi and Zachariah Novak are nothing short of those parents who expect everything out of you and yet it’s never good enough. 

Why did he agree to stay there again?  

Right. To avoid a certain Winchester for as long as he can. Sam’s older brother Dean, the only person Cas has ever loved as deeply as he did. And probably ever will. 

Sandbox love never dies.  

Okay, that may be a quote from a movie where said sandbox lover kills her best friend but you get the gist. 

Also the only hotel in town has been completely booked up. Who knew Sam and Eileen had so many friends/wedding guests? To be fair, it only has about a hundred rooms. He wonders if the Town Hall for the reception will be big enough to hold their extended family plus the town’s usual suspects residents. Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch to think that they will all attend the wedding but you never know. People know people here, sometimes a little too well. 

Cas has turned the engine off, but still stays where he is. He can’t bring himself to get out. He won’t . 

“Fuck,” he hisses, laying his head on the wheel. “Just get it over with. You can’t get a hotel room, you can’t stay with the Winchesters. Just get out of the fucking car, Cas.” 

He gets out of the car. 

The next few moments pass in a blur as he grabs his luggage, rings the doorbell, and is immediately bombarded by his mother and her fussing with his hair, his father jovially smiling and slapping him on his shoulders. It’s all picturesque and seemingly normal but Cas knows it won’t last long. He knows exactly when the questions will start, the doubts, the lectures. 

Cas shrinks further into himself while putting on the bravest face he can. He hates having to do this but it’s for his own survival. So he breathes in and smiles. 

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” he recites. “Glad to be back home.” 

Naomi stands tall, leading him upstairs to his old room. “I hope your trip wasn’t too harsh on that back of yours.” 

“I managed,” he continues, ignoring the dull throb of his lower back at the mention. Airplane seats don’t do well for his body, despite his physical training. 

“Just leave your suitcase in your room and join us for dinner. Your father ordered pizza. I know it’s your favourite.” Pizza hasn’t been his favourite in years but he smiles with grateful care nonetheless. There’s so much his parents don’t know about him. They only see what he’s carefully curated for them. 

In their mind, he is Castiel James Novak, successful accountant at Sandover Industries, on his way to climbing the corporate ladder. A career-driven bachelor with a beautiful penthouse in New York City, aligning himself with only the most important people, and an eye-catcher to the ladies. It’s not entirely wrong, per se, but he neglects to mention that he’s depressed to the point of feeling numb, gayer than Elton John, and has maybe three friends. He has people under him, sure. His employees—his ‘garrison’—who are only friendly to him because they have to be. It’s not real. It never was. He misses the real friendships he used to have back in Lazarus. That’s all gone to shit now. 

Really, Sam and Gabriel are the only ones here who talk to him, but Gabriel’s his cousin so that doesn’t really count. He wonders if he should reach out to Charlie. 

Charlie is Dean’s friend , he reminds himself. 

He looks around his old room. It’s bare and cookie-cutter, unlike when he left it. His mother had gone on with renovations, making it a second guest room once it was clear that Castiel wouldn’t be coming back often for visits. In fact, he’s made it a point for his parents to visit him in New York. All expenses paid for, of course. He’d take them to a Broadway show for Christmas, then ship them off to Palm Springs for golf in the summer. Anything to keep him away from here. 

But he can’t avoid it anymore, now, can he? 

Sam Winchester and his stupid puppy eyes. 

He joins his family in the living room, a rerun episode of some Italian soap opera playing on their 80-inch flatscreen TV, courtesy of yours truly. His father’s legs are extended on the ottoman, his mother curled up beside him on their cozy loveseat couch. The pizza on the mahogany coffee table is a quarter-eaten, the lid extended open where the family dog, Enoch—a fluffy white and sassy pomeranian—is pushing her limits by sniffing at the temptation before her. 

“Enoch!” snaps Castiel, as he plops down onto the plush chair beside his parents, loosening his tie. Enoch pitters away, huffing with discontent.

“Get a plate, sweetheart,” says his mother airily. “They’re on the counter.”

He groans. “I just sat down, and there’s paper towels anyway.” 

Naomi purses her lips. “If you get grease on my couch, you’re cleaning it.” 

“Fine by me,” he sasses, reaching over the coffee table to tear a piece of paper towel off the roll and place a slice of pizza on top of it. Cas knows he’s testing his limits with his mother, by the way Zachariah glances over at him with a look . Obviously, he’s going to be careful with not getting grease on the damn couch. He’s not an animal. “What’s going on in this one?”

“Leo just revealed he slept with his wife’s twin sister, and got her pregnant. But Fatima just told him she has cancer so it’s anyone’s game, really,” his father recaps. 

Cas raises his eyebrows through his bite of pepperoni. “Well, alright then.”

Dean - 3 Months Before the Wedding

Another fucking monkey suit. It’s so uncomfortable on his body that it’s making him itch. Curse his stupid little brother for making him the Best Man. If it were anyone else, Dean would have torn his throat out, family ties or not. Because no one told him how humiliating it would be. He really thought it would be just planning a Bachelor Party and making some sappy speech–but fittings? Keeping track of the wedding rings? Keeping the rest of the groomsmen in line? Dean did not sign up for this. Oh, but sure, he’s happy to do it. Anything for Sammy. 

Dean’s going to kill him after his honeymoon. 

“What’s taking so long, jerk?” his brother calls at him. “God, you’re worse than I am. I feel like the boyfriend at the prom.”

“Shut your mouth, bitch,” he snaps, and flicks the changing room curtains away, stepping out onto the platform with all the fancy mirrors. 

Eileen makes a jeering noise, signing a very crude gesture that anyone with a basic knowledge of hand signals would blush at. Dean blows her a kiss, then flicks his fingers under his chin.

Love you too, handsome , she signs back, her entire body lounged and casual on the chaise longue, sipping on champagne provided by the tailors. Must be nice.  

“Would you two stop flirting in front of me?” Sam sighs, exasperated, Bitch Face Number 14 making an appearance. “I feel like you’re the ones getting married, not me.” 

“Hey, she’s the one objectifying me. I’m only making sure she knows exactly what she’s missing.” Dean laughs, raising his arms in mock defense.

Sam has a bigger dick, though , Eileen teases. 

“Did not need to know that, thank you,” he grimaces, his face contorting like he’s just sucked on a lemon. 

Sam cackles. Asshole. 

“Can we move on?” Dean whines. “I feel like I’m fresh meat.”

Sam nods, gesturing to the tailor to come over. “Definitely some hemming needed on all fronts. My brother’s pretty broad-shouldered so you’ve got to account for that. I sent you his measurements, right?”

The tailor nods. “Just a few adjustments on the pants as well.” He looks up at Dean. “You should feel comfortable walking around in this. Your bowlegs need room to bend.” He bends down to flatten the fabric down, marking lines and numbers with chalk. Dean watches him work, bobbing up and down like some over-enthusiastic crane. He works so fast that Dean barely catches him talking to Sam at hundred miles a minute. 

“It’s a good colour on him,” Sam agrees. “What do you think, Dean?”

“Huh? It’s fine.” He just wants to get this over with. 

“What are your wedding colours, again?” asks the tailor. “I wondered about the square you wanted to pair with the vest but I need to know the exact colours.” 

“Green and gold,” says Eileen, rising up in a straighter position. “I saw this one square I’d like to see on him, too. It’s blue. Since he’s the Best Man, I figured he should stand out from the rest.” 

Dean bristles. “Eileen, as my future sister-in-law, I love you, but I am not wearing blue.”

Blue reminds him too much of Cas. How blue his eyes were that night, full of tears and betrayal.

Fuck . 

Eileen must see the desperation in his eyes and nods. “Don’t worry about it, then. Go with a green square. If you can find one with gold accents, all the better.” The tailor nods, going straight to work. I forgot. I’m sorry , she signs. 

It’s fine , he replies, glancing over to Sam, whose expression looks almost guilty. Dean doesn’t read too much into it, since he rarely mentions Cas anymore. His heart aches every time he thinks of him, of how much he hurt him. He can’t bring himself to try to contact him, sure that Cas hates him now. 

No time to dwell on that, though. His baby brother’s getting married to the sickest girl ever! He’s so proud. 

So he puts on a more cheerful face as the tailor runs back with several squares in hand. Dean stands still as the tailor waves the fabrics over his chest one by one, discussing with Eileen and Sam about what colours best match his vest. 

In the end, they settle on a forest green colour with a gold tree in the middle. The tailor makes a show of tucking the square in Dean's pocket, vanilla cologne mixed with cheap aftershave wafting off the tailor’s own. Holding his breath is the only thing that keeps Dean from coughing like an asshole. It’s bad enough he looks like a hick, it’s worse if he acts like one. 

But it’s not the overwhelming garish scent that bothers him. It’s the sense memory that appears. 

— Lazarus, May 2004

Cas and his stupid cologne that he got for his birthday. The cloying scent of cedar and vanilla filling Dean’s nostrils with the overwhelming feeling of Castiel . Of home . It’s addicting and intoxicating at the same time. They’re 15. At the cusp of puberty’s peak. Hormones are running wild and the attraction between the two boys is growing stronger. Although, Dean didn’t know it at the time. Maybe he did, underneath all that repression he buried deep down beneath his father’s leather jacket; oversized and safe, like a suit of armour. 

His heart beats fast, roaring in his ears. Cas is laughing through the spittle of the beer they sneaked from John Winchester’s secret stash. They feel drunker than they are; low tolerance and all that. Their cheeks are flushed with warmth, and the LED camper light casts a halo-ish glow over Cas’s face and Dean thinks Cas has never looked more beautiful than he does at this moment. 

It’s not gay to think that your best friend is beautiful, right? 

Totally not gay. 

“Truth or dare, Dean,” giggles Cas. 

“Dare,” says Dean, cocky as ever. Nevermind that he never chooses truth for reasons, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Cas hiccups through another gulp of beer. “I dare you… to run naked three times around the barn.” 

“How naked we talkin’ here?”

“As the day you were born, Winchester.”

Dean doesn’t know where he gets the confidence to strip in front of his best friend. Locker rooms are one thing but that’s through the cover of being among your classmates. His fingers tug the edge of his underwear but he stops there. There’s no way he’s showing his dick in front of his best friend. That’s just weird. 

“I’m getting down to my whities and that’s it, buddy.” He doesn’t know why his voice shakes. 

“Of course, whatever makes you comfortable, Dean.” The sincereness in Cas’ tone is surprising. 

“Okay.”

With that he leaves the barn, letting his feet carry him out, breaking into a run. It’s a cooler May evening, the wind sobering him up just slightly to get him to run in a more direct line, probably preventing him from slamming into the side of the barn and startling Cas inside. He pants as his bare feet get tickled by the dew-heavy grass. The moon is full tonight, illuminating the patches of stars untouched by light pollution. It’s a beautiful night. 

Dean finishes his first lap.

There’s not much stopping him from just… continuing to run. There’s an inner craving for him to just uproot his entire life and head for the next town—no, the next state over. Change his name, his number, maybe his personality too. There’s too much holding him down here. He wants to get away. Dean wants something for himself outside of Lazarus. 

Second lap. 

He can’t just leave Cas. Maybe they’ll run away together. Face the world together. 

Together. 

The word runs over and over in Dean’s mind. 

Together.

He can’t imagine a life without Cas in it. 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s finished his third lap until he’s in front of the barn doors, Cas staring at him with expectant eyes under that black mop of wild hair. God, he has such beautiful eyes. So blue and… perfect. Like the deep blue ocean way in the middle of nowhere. Like in that National Geographic documentary—The Blue Planet one. Yeah, that’s what Cas’ eyes remind him of. 

“Dean? You okay?”

“Hm? Fine,” he says, his mind feeling clear for the first time that night. 

“You’re gonna freeze out there,” Cas teases.

“‘s nice. Come join me,” he offers. 

Cas’ eyebrows furrow, but he gets up anyway, grabbing Dean’s clothes and throwing them at him. “Put your clothes on, then. You’re not Rambo.”

“Rambo’s a fucking icon, Cas.”

“Whatever you say. Just put your clothes on.” 

Dean does as he’s told, neglecting to put his shoes back on, enjoying the way his feet feel in the damp grass. Cas joins him once that’s done, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s staring at the ground, and Dean can’t read him. He ventures further out into the empty field and sits down facing the barn. Wordlessly, Cas joins him again, sitting cross-legged beside Dean. They sit in silence, listening to the sounds of the world around them; the wind in the grass, the crickets in the field, the distant whoosh of the cars on the highway across from them. The quiet stillness you can feel in the warmer spring days leading up to summer. 

“You ever think about running away?” asks Dean finally, fidgeting with the grass under his fingers.

“Running away where?” Cas says after a moment. His head is tilted to the sky, his eyes closed.

Dean shrugs. “Anywhere. Away from here. From Lazarus.”

“Yeah,” says Cas, tilting his head to look at Dean. “A lot.”

His heart skips a beat, his mouth suddenly dry. “Where would you go?”

“Europe, probably. I want to see Spain, Switzerland…” The softness in Cas’ voice is touching, and Dean feels warmer. He wants more of it. “What about you?”

“Well, planes scare the fuck out of me so I probably want to explore the country more.” He leans back on his hands, gazing up at the stars. “Could take my dad’s car. Fix ‘er up real nice. Dad’s been teaching me how to.” 

“I don’t have to go to Europe right away,” Cas murmurs. “If you want, I could go with you.”

“You wanna take a road trip, Cas?” 

“Yeah.”

The casualness of Cas’ response makes Dean laugh. “Okay,” he says. “We can take a road trip. Right after senior year?” 

“That sounds nice,” Cas hums. 

It does sound nice. The two of them against the world. Just a car, some clothes, some money from odd jobs, the wind in their hair, sick music, and vibes. It would be perfect. No responsibilities, no expectations. Just two best friends living it up together, seeing new sights. God, it would be perfect. So Dean starts planning it out loud. They’ll start in their home state, then go South, West, then East, and maybe up to Canada. Dean mentions wanting to see more of the Rocky Mountains. Cas agrees quietly, his head leaning against Dean’s shoulder, slowly starting to nod off. 

“You tired?” Dean asks playfully. 

“No,” he says, face slumped against Dean’s arm, his soft black hair tickling the underside of Dean’s jaw. 

Dean gets up and groans, his limbs coming back to life. “Come on, Cas. Let’s go to sleep, buddy.” 

He holds his hand out for Cas to grab and haul himself up, and they walk back to the barn, hand in hand. They only let go once it’s time to settle into their sleeping bags. But even then, they stay close.

Cas falls asleep quickly, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Dean can’t help but look at him, feeling grateful for the friendship he’s gotten and not sure he entirely deserves.

Laying on his side, he watches Cas for a while. Cas shifts eventually, and his arm falls outstretched to the floor, his palm turned up. Dean, feeling tempted, carefully reaches out to tuck his pinky finger in the soft skin of Cas’ hand. Cas barely stirs, his mouth puffing out small snores that Dean used to be annoyed by when they were 13, but now finds endearing. 

Safe in their sacred space of a barn, in between scattered piles of snacks, comic books, and trash, Dean falls asleep with the feeling of comfort. 

Chapter Text

Cas - One Week Before the Wedding

Cas doesn’t end up getting grease on the couch. As he dissociated through watching the soap opera, his parents said nothing. Nor did they ask him any questions about his life. So basically he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. And that in itself is more anxiety-inducing. 

The ceiling above him conjures shapes in his anxious mind’s eye as he lays in bed. He’s tempted to check his phone, but knows that the lack of notifications will just leave him disappointed. 

Why can’t he fall asleep? 

It doesn’t matter. If it’s not happening, he’s not going to force it. He’s got no obligations tomorrow and he can always take a nap. No responsibilities… nothing. He’s turned off his work phone after cashing in the four weeks of paid vacation he’s accumulated. Because honestly? Even if this wedding is in a week, Cas will need at least one week for recovery after seeing Dean, and another one if he interacts with Dean. And one more just for good measure. 

Cas thinks about calling Balthazar but New York is two hours ahead, and it’s already 1 AM here. He doubts his friend is sleeping, though, given that the King of New York’s LGBT scene is usually out clubbing or in an orgy or both. God, he misses him already. Still, a text wouldn’t hurt. 

Cas: Missing your dumb face.

Almost immediately there’s a response. 

Bal: Missing yours, too. 

Bal: Shouldn’t you be asleep, old man?

Cas: Can’t. 

Cas: I fucking hate it here.

Bal: Can’t blame you. I’m not even there and I can feel your anguish. 

Cas: I watched a soap opera. 

Cas: With my parents.

Bal: You poor thing. 

Bal: You’re turning as old as they are.

Cas chuckles, his mood already improving. He stretches his limbs underneath the covers, settling in, feeling more relaxed the longer he talks to one of his oldest friends. Enoch, where she’s settled herself at the foot end of Cas’ bed, huffs with offence at the sudden movement, and pitters out of the room. Good riddance. That dog is a menace.

He doesn’t even remember how they met, that’s how old a friend Balthazar is. He thinks it might have been from his second year at Stanford, when he travelled to England that one semester. Regardless of all the details of how and when they met, they clicked instantly. Queer friends stick together like that, bonding over shared interests, wanting to discover new hobbies, as well as discovering what being in the LGBTQ+ community has to offer. They may have also entertained the idea of dating each other but decided to keep it more friendly. Although he and Balthazar do participate in the occasional orgy together sometimes, the latter being a more frequent participant.

Cas: I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive the week.

Bal: Want me to come down as your plus-one?

Cas: I’ll be okay.

Instead of a text reply, Cas’ phone buzzes with an incoming call from Balthazar. He sighs fondly and presses the button, not saying a word since he knows a pep talk is coming. 

“Don’t piss on my lawn and tell me it’s raining,” Bal says immediately, his British accent as strong as ever. It’s a miracle he hasn’t lost it over their 11 years in New York. 

Cas rolls his eyes. “I never said I was okay. I said I will be.”

“Well Dean better stay away from you, then. Or I will be booking the next flight out.” By the tone in Bal’s voice, he’s as serious as the plague.  

“Dean’s his own person. I’ll just…” he pauses, turning over in his covers. “Keep my distance. I’m not in the wedding party anyway. Sam did try to convince me to be one of his groomsmen but that’s not going to happen.”

“Of course it’s not going to happen! I honestly don’t know why you would go to this wedding, Cassie.”

“Sam and Eileen are my friends. I introduced them. I want to see them get married. It’s been fifteen years, Bal. It’ll be fine.” 

Balthazar sighs over the line, and Cas knows by that sound that he’s not entirely impressed. Well, Balthazar can suck it up. It’s Castiel who’s stuck here, not him. He’s made his grave and now he’s going to lie in it. 

“Fifteen years and you’re still hung up on him,” says Bal after a moment. Cas hears a cabinet being opened and closed, a bottle being uncorked and the pour of liquid in a glass. Of course his friend is drinking at three in the morning. He hears him take a sip. “And ten years of my matchmaking attempts down the drain. What’s so special about Dean Winchester anyway?”

Fighting the urge to get a bottle of wine from his parent’s cellar for himself, Cas groans. “Fuck if I know. I’ve been asking myself that for as long as you have, if not longer.” He rubs a hand down his face, the twinge of regret growing more irksome the longer he’s in Lazarus. 

Bal snorts. “He’s obviously not worth it, then.” Cas hears him take another sip. “I’ve got this guy. Raphael, I think you’ll like him. Fantastic in bed. Not the chattiest but he does play the cello in the New York Philharmonic so he gets all these free tickets. I know you like that kind of thing—”

Aaaand that’s when Castiel tunes him out. He loves and appreciates Balthazar with all his being but sometimes he gets a little too much. In hindsight, Cas knows his friend wants him to be happy with someone. But really, Cas doesn’t think he’ll ever be as happy as he was with Dean. At least not until he gets closure from that night. 

It was justified of Cas to cut contact completely since then but he’ll never truly know the truth of what happened. At least not the whole truth. Really, it’s Dean’s fault he hasn’t reached out since then. So Cas isn’t going to make the first move, as much as it pains him that he’s lost one of the best friends he’s ever had and the only person he’s loved so fiercely.

So he lets himself get matched with anyone Balthazar pairs him with, even if they don’t last long. He’s not going to diminish his queer experience by waiting on a supposedly straight man who wouldn’t even give him a simple phone call in those years at Stanford. Or a text. Or a letter. 

Fucking hell. Why is he dwelling on the bitterness of the past? It’s not healthy. 

“Cassie,” says Bal. 

He’s been caught. “Sorry.” 

The tone in Bal’s voice is playful. “You better be. I just said I was going to set myself on fire and go skinny-dipping in the harbour and you didn’t say a damn word.” 

“I got distracted,” he states, which isn’t the whole truth but it’s close enough. “I’ll meet up with Raphael once I’m back, though. The Orchestra thing sounds like a good perk.” 

“Excellent. I’ll arrange something for you two.” 

Castiel ignores the recurring pain in his heart that happens every time he agrees to a new date. He wishes it would go away, since Dean is merely a pipe dream now. There’s no way they’ll ever connect again. 

“Thank you,” he croaks. “I think I’m good enough to try to sleep again. You should too.” 

“Darling, what do you think the wine was for?” he chuckles, since mild alcoholism is funny. “But it’s no problem. I just want you to be happy, you know that.”  

“I know, Bal. You’re a great friend.” 

“Of course I am. Now sleep well, Cassie. I expect details of the wedding. I want scandal, just without you involved. You’ve been through enough.” 

“Oh, in this town? Scandal is all anyone has here. We just choose to ignore it. But I’ll fill you in, you nosy bitch.” 

“Lovely. Now, ta ta!” 

“Ta,” he finishes, hanging up the phone call. Balthazar never fails to cheer him up, even just for a little bit. Cas falls asleep with a smile on his face, and dreams of green eyes. 

— Stanford, September 2008

One whole year. It’s been one entire year since that night. Anger seethes in Castiel’s chest as it did the last time he thought about Dean Winchester. One whole year of nothing. 

He’s an adult now. He’s just a month away from starting his second year at Stanford. He’s moving on with his life. So why is he still hung up on Dean Winchester?

Because you’ll never find another one like him , his thoughts project. They’re right, of course. There will never be another person like Dean Winchester. If Castiel could see his soul, it would be brighter than the sun, more beautiful than a song, full of life and joy. Fuck. He needs some friends. 

His first year was spent mostly with his head down. His grades reflected highly on that decision but so did his social life. The only people he talks to are his parents, and even that’s like pulling teeth trying to have a decent conversation with them. Sure, he’s been lonely but it’s better than being in Lazarus. Anything’s better than Lazarus. 

But he needs some friends. 

So he’s here in the social center of Stanford. A bar, of course. Never mind that he can’t drink, but he can still have a Shirley Temple in the corner booth of the darkest spot in the place. Oh, yeah. He’s totally being social. 

Someone settles in the seat across from him. A curvy brunette in leather. She’s got a round face, deep brown eyes, and an ever-present smirk on her soft pink lips. Castiel may be gay but he can admire a pretty woman’s features. 

“Hello,” says Castiel. 

“Hello to you, too,” she replies, her voice deep and just this side of scratchy. It’s almost lilty the way her tone is bordering on musical. 

Cas wonders if she smokes, eyeing her yellow fingernails and the dark circles under her eyes. He also wonders if she sings, looking at her rigid posture, her chest high. She could be posturing for a better view of her breasts but he doesn’t think she’d be that shallow. 

“You gonna stare at me all day?” she asks, amused. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, casting his eyes down to his drink. 

She laughs. “Don’t be. I'm a whore for attention.”

Cas smiles, bringing his eyes back up to hers. “I’m not the kind of attention you want, believe me.” 

The woman leans back in her seat, her finger circling the edge of the glass of her drink. It’s probably alcoholic by the insanely pink colour. She doesn’t look any older than 19. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re one plum short of a full fruit basket. Any and all attention, I want it.” 

“So what are you doing here with me?” he asks, leaning over to take a sip out of his straw. 

“You looked sad and lonely. Like some kicked puppy.” 

“Thank you?” His eyebrows furrow. 

“You’re welcome,” she states, gracefully grabbing her drink and taking a… healthy sip. “I’m adopting you. What’s your name, puppy?” 

He answers the only way he knows how. Is this how you make friends? 

“Castiel.” 

“Well, Clarence—“ 

“Castiel,” he interrupts, firm. If he gets another stupid nickname, he’s going to lose his mind. “Can I at least get the liberty of your name, my new owner? Or should I lay down at your feet and expect belly rubs?” 

“I like you,” she laughs. “I’m Meg. What’s your major?” 

“Mathematics. Minor in History. Am I allowed to know yours?” 

Meg makes a show of humming and hawing. “I suppose,” she drawls, a slow smile growing on her face. It’s almost devilish. “I’m in Criminology. I’ve seen you in my linguistics class. Professor Donatello Redfield, right?” 

Cas nods. “You’re wondering if you can copy off my homework, right?” 

He used to do that for Dean. After sleepless nights of taking care of a drunk John Winchester, his friend would stumble into their homeroom, face gaunt and pale, eyes rimmed with dryness. Cas would say nothing, but pass him his notes or his answers for the next class, just to keep Dean above water. Even if Dean didn’t know it, Cas was always looking after him, watching over him. 

Meg scoffs, as if the notion is entirely ridiculous to her. “No, dude. I’m fine. Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?” 

“…yes?” 

“I want to be your friend , Constantine. No strings attached.” 

“Oh.” 

Meg mutters something under her breath but her expression is anything but annoyed. Warmth fills Castiel’s chest; a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

They end up talking for a long time, slowly getting to know each other while Meg teases him relentlessly for anything and everything while he does the same in return with dry humour and sarcasm. It’s… nice. 

“So,” Meg says after a while. It’s past midnight and bar patrons are slowly dwindling down to the last drunk few. Cas thinks they should be going too. The two have settled into a comfortable silence. 

“So,” he replies. 

“You wanna go study abroad in England next semester?”

Cas has never heard anything more tempting in his life. 

“Absolutely.”

Dean - One Week Before the Wedding

He’s wearing the leather jacket again. It’s the one thing he knows he can trust to keep his emotions safe enough from everybody else. Because Dean Winchester is allergic to emotions. 

He’s playing chauffeur to his dad today. This is the third time John Winchester has been admitted to court-mandated rehab. It never sticks, evident by this being the third time it’s happened. Heaven’s Gate Rehabilitation Centre is an hour outside of Lazarus, and even farther from where Dean’s homebase in Kansas is. But John’s coming to the wedding (despite Dean’s protest, the rehab program says that it’ll be good for John’s recovery and their healing as a family) which means Dean has to pick him up and be as perfect a son as he can be. 

His fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel as he waits for his dad to come out of the building. Dean doesn’t dare enter those doors. The last time he did, he was nearly dragged into group therapy. Fuck that. Bunch of self-righteous dicks doing more harm than good. 

John Winchester stumbles out with a cocky gait as he spies the Impala–Dean’s pride and joy.  It once belonged to John, but he never harboured the same love and dedication to the car as his son does. 

“The paint’s chipped on the car, Dean,” John crows. “I wouldn't have given her to you if I didn’t think you could take care of her.” 

That’s a low blow. Dean bristles, biting his tongue on a retort. “Sorry, sir. Been meaning to get her in the shop.” 

“You better,” he grunts, opening the creaky door and settling inside beside Dean. Stupid rehab agents. Sam should have been against all this. But apparently Sam was totally fine, even encouraging this. God . Sometimes he doesn’t even know his own brother. 

The drive back to Lazarus is spent in tense silence. Dean glances at his dad every so often out of the corner of his eye. John is unreadable. He’s sitting up straight, slightly relaxed, a gentle smile on his face like there isn’t a care in the world. Meanwhile, Dean’s senses are on high alert. It’s not that he hates his dad. He doesn’t . But years of trauma don’t unlearn themselves.

The first (and only) stop John has is at Bobby’s. That’s where he’s staying for the wedding. Dean couldn’t handle being with his old man under the same roof again. 

Bobby Singer greets them with a hand wave, lounging on his patio in his wheelchair, a shotgun by his side and a bottle of beer on the other. He’s a gruff teddy bear under all that tough-guy hick exterior. 

John gets out first, yelling a muffled greeting to Bobby and slapping him on the shoulder, attempting to grab a bottle from Bobby’s cooler.

“Damn it, Dad,” groans Dean, gritting his teeth as he gets out of the car to stop his dad from breaking his 60 day chip status. “You just got out!”

“He’s right, John,” Bobby agrees, taking Dean’s distraction as an opportunity to swipe the beer from John’s hand. “There’s coke in the cooler, but I’m sure you knew that.”

John frowns but grabs a bottle of Coke anyway, raising his eyebrows at his son as if he’s saying Look, I’m doing it. You can calm down now . Dean just rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Bobby. 

“How you doing, Bobby?” he asks, joining both him and his dad on the porch, grabbing a Coke as well. He’d take a beer but he doesn’t want to risk being tipsy since he’s driving back to Sam’s later.

“Well, my legs don’t work, the economy’s shit, I wish Sam every happiness but why in Hell is he getting married here ?” grouches Bobby, but a smile surfaces underneath that half-kept beard and ratted baseball cap. 

Dean snorts. “Because Sam does what he wants.” 

“Amen to that,” says John and Dean purses his lips. What he’d like to say is Yeah, Sam does what he wants because he’s his own goddamn person, not a soldier you raised . Instead, Dean keeps his mouth shut. Starting another fight with his dad is the last thing he wants to do, especially with all the crap he’s dealing with for the wedding. So he laughs, and he drinks, keeping his mouth occupied while his dad and Bobby shoot the shit. 

Bobby being paralyzed from the waist down is relatively new. Just a year before he was set to retire at Singer’s Auto Repair, Bobby was under the belly of a car he was attempting to restore when the supports collapsed on top of his legs just as he was getting out. The car ended up permanently damaging nerves in his spine as well as breaking both of his legs. Bobby was pissed to say the least. It’s not the wheelchair that’s a problem, it’s the blatant inaccessibility he had to face with all this new stuff. Of course, the town and Dean helped pitch in with installing ramps in his house and renovating it a bit so things were easier to reach. As expected with Bobby, being the town drunk and grouch, he complained the entire time. But those who knew him well knew he was extremely grateful and happy for everything. 

The three men end up talking for a little while longer until Dean decides he needs to meet Sam at the old Winchester house. Technically, it’s still in John’s name but since he’s at Heaven’s Gate most of the time now, Sam and Dean use it as a vacation home. Sam has renovated it to the nines, turning it from one of the most run-down looking houses to shining nearly as nice as the Novak farmhouse. In between the boys using it for weekend escapes, there’s usually someone coming in to dust and tidy it up a little to keep it as preserved as possible. Sam being a defense attorney at one of the biggest law firms in Kansas pays pretty well and it shows. 

Finishing his drink, he says goodbye to John and Bobby, letting the old crotches be. Dean knows John will end up breaking his sobriety chip by the time the wedding rolls around but if Dean doesn’t witness it, it’s out of sight and out of mind. Bobby can only do so much but he’s the town drunk for a reason.

It’s only when he pulls out of Bobby’s driveway that the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. The leather jacket feels hot and suffocating now, and despite it always having been sturdy armour to him before, now it’s making him feel vulnerable and bare. 

Exposed and raw, for the first time in a long time, Dean keenly feels the gaping hole Cas left with his absence in the passenger seat. 

Chapter Text

Cas - Four Days Before the Wedding

It’s quiet in town today. Cas is accompanying his parents out on their errands, since he really has nothing better to do. Still unconsciously advocating for his independence, Cas leaves Naomi and Zachariah who are perusing another antique shop to go off on his own. Maybe he’ll get a coffee from the only artisanal coffee shop he can see. 

Does he miss the hustle and bustle of New York City? Sure, he does. But there’s something to be said about the quietness of a sleepy town. Cas doubts anyone will recognize him, considering how long he’s stayed away. New faces and new drama and all that. He wonders if anyone from high school has stayed, if they’ve gone on to bigger and better things. Sam can’t exactly say anything since he’s relocated to Kansas, which isn’t too far from Lazarus, actually. 

Unlike Cas who’s staying as far away from his hometown as possible. He considers texting Balthazar again so he feels less lonely. But Balthazar has made it clear he wasn’t to be bothered today. Something, something, a menage a trois , and too many meetings, darling, you know how it goes . 

What happened to Cas advocating for independence? He usually finds comfort in being alone. Here, though, he’s lonely, and it’s only been three days since he landed. 

As he suspected, his parents began questioning his entire life, along with lectures about him “getting out there” and “meeting a nice girl” and “settling down” less than halfway through the second day. Why is that the peak point of his entire life? Why is making a family the only thing important to his parents? After everything he’s done for them. His entire childhood depended on him being the absolute best. To be their perfect miracle child. 

Honestly, he gets where they’re coming from. Before he was born, his parents struggled with infertility and his mother had many miscarriages before she was able to carry Castiel to full-term. Being heavily involved in the church as they were, they saw him as a miracle from God. And so they named him accordingly after an angel: The Shield of God. The extended Novak family has always been very involved with angelic mythology and lore, hence his cousin being named Gabriel and his uncle Michael. But his parents took it to the next level by naming him something you can’t even find on any gift shop knick knacks or even a Coke bottle.

Regardless, they’ve practically put all their hopes and dreams on him since he was born. His whole life, Castiel has bent over backwards to please them. It was only through meeting Dean that he actually started to have a voice, much to his parent’s disappointment. 

Cas ends up swallowing his pride and enters the coffee shop, named Lazarus Rising. It’s kind of fitting, he notes. A little on-the-nose but he forgives it for the absolutely delectable smell of fresh coffee grounds. The senses bring him back to New York, at his favourite coffee place across from his apartment. Why didn’t he explore this town sooner? Maybe then he wouldn’t have felt so homesick for New York. 

It also seems like Cas has figured out why the town seemed so quiet earlier. They’re all here , congregating in the one beacon of the outside world; a sample of the city life. Upon closer look, it’s actually all young people. Teenagers and hipsters and young adults slouched over their phones or laptops or chatting boisterously with their friends. He suspects the older crowd is at the Roadhouse. It is around lunch time, after all. Now that would be a place he’d be recognized. Ellen Harvelle was almost like a second mom to him. Mr. Elkins (if he was still alive) would probably say something homophobic and the kind Bobby Singer, being grouchy and drunk would definitely say something. Yeah, it’s better that he avoids going there for now. The Roadhouse is catering for the wedding, after all. He’ll see them then. 

Cas orders an iced vanilla latte from the cheery barista who’s definitely had too much espresso. They’re practically vibrating on the spot, tapping out his order faster than Cas can follow. He ends up tipping them 20% because one, he has the money for it and two, always tip your baristas. 

He sits by the window in a more secluded area, watching the world go by outside. He likes to watch the wind in the trees, and the occasional car in the street. In Central Park, he’d sit for hours just marvelling at nature. The one safe haven in New York for when he’d feel completely suffocated by the density of the cityscape just to escape for an hour or two. 

A car pulls into the coffee shop parking lot; a pickup truck, he thinks. It’s old and rusted to hell, like it’s on its last legs, but seems to be running just fine. Cas can’t see inside the window due to the bright glare of the summer sun but he still finds himself squinting to try. 

Only recently has he been made aware that he stares… a lot. Sometimes without even focusing on the subject in front of him. He’s just so entranced in his own thoughts or sometimes he’s so focused on people-watching that he’s been told he looks like a pervert. Balthazar says the trenchcoat he always wears doesn’t help. Technically, it’s an overcoat but he digresses. 

It’s only another moment before two figures step out of the pickup. If Cas didn’t know exactly who they were upon seeing them, he’d think they’re the funniest couple he’s ever seen. The man is abnormally tall with a clumsy gait like a baby giraffe, while the woman is definitely shorter than average, with the confident air of the most self-assured personality you could pinpoint with absolute accuracy: Sam Winchester and Eileen Leahy, soon to be married four days from now. 

They spot Castiel in the window and wave. Cas smiles, waving back, signing for them to join him inside. There’s barely any fanfare when they come in but Cas hasn’t seen his friends in so long that he stands and grins like an idiot, bringing them both into amicable hugs. 

There’s a quick burst of “ Hey, how are you? Nice to see you! It’s been so long! You haven’t changed a bit! ” exchanged between them before Cas lets them sit down and settle in to offer to buy them drinks. With Midwestern politeness, they refuse then relent only when Cas insists. The same song and dance every time. 

While he waits for their orders, he watches them be the most sickeningly sweet couple, signing and laughing at their own inside jokes. Sam plants a kiss on Eileen’s cheek, and she giggles, leaning into his tall frame. Castiel’s heart aches. They’re happy, he realizes. Happiness is something he’s always wished for with Dean. Despite him being content in New York, he’s not fulfilled. He’s got everything besides the comfort of having someone to come home to, to love, to be truly happy with . That was always supposed to be Dean. 

God, he’s already hating being back. He hasn’t thought of Dean this much since those first too-quiet, restless, lonely nights in his apartment. Fuck him for making Cas sad again. But he puts his mask back on for Sam and Eileen’s sake. For them, he’ll be happy. 

Once he brings Sam and Eileen’s finished drinks to their table, Sam immediately bursts into conversation, signing and speaking at the same time. “ I’m so glad you’re here, man !” he starts. “ Sorry we didn’t come to see you when you came in , there’s just been a lot of last-minute stuff .”

Castiel frowns. “ That’s not necessary, ” he says, pitching in with signing too. He’s a tad rusty, only because he hasn’t used it in a little while. There aren’t many opportunities for him to use it nowadays, so he’s slower as he signs. He can understand it just fine but given how little he talks anyway, the other languages he knows are just a bit on the accented side when he speaks, ASL included. “ I’m happy to just come to the wedding and have a good time . No need for formalities .” 

You’re our friend, Castiel , Eileen insists. The name-sign she’s given him of a C swirled in a halo atop her head is the most adorable thing and her nails are painted a lovely shimmering gold for an unintentional added touch. You’re the reason we’re together . She beams at Sam as she’s talking, and he wraps his arm around her, squeezing her close. God, they’re disgustingly cute.

“ Well, if there’s anything I can do to help in the next few days, let me know ,” he offers. If this is how you avoid that sort of conversation, Cas thinks he’s doing a good job of it. 

“ We’re covered right now ,” says Sam, sipping his tiny cappuccino in his huge hands, then frowns. “ I wish they had bigger cups .”

Cas rolls his eyes, already falling back into the banter of how they used to be at Stanford. “ Then you should have gotten a bigger size .” 

Eileen snorts. That’s what she said , she jokes, then holds her palms together and pulls them apart wider and wider, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. All three of them laugh like idiots, like they’re back in Stanford’s dining hall, throwing snacks at each other before they study their brains out in the library. The only difference is that Castiel was already starting his Master’s when Sam started school, and Eileen was already in her third year. Besides Meg, Balthazar, and Mick, those were the people he’d been around the most. 

Oh, God, Mick Davies. Was that ever something. What was supposed to be a small fling in England turned into a two year relationship that ended— he doesn’t want to say badly but there’s a reason Mick went back to England with his tail between his legs. The sex was good, though. That is really the only thing he misses about Mick. That and his gentlemanly way of showing Castiel the finer things in life. He was a good way to keep his mind off Dean but Cas knew deep down that it would never go anywhere. 

“ What’s your plan for the next few days ?” asks Sam, interlacing the fingers of his large hands folding together on top of the table. Eileen’s beautiful gold nails rest on his forearm, her thumb rubbing his skin affectionately. 

“ I thought I’d just sit here quietly ,” Cas deadpans. Eileen snorts. “ I don’t have any plans until the wedding. Really today’s been the first day I’ve been out in three days. And I have a rental car .” 

“ You mean that crappy Continental in the parking lot? ” 

“ You think it’s crappy ?” Cas frowns, maybe a little insulted that the rental car he chose on a whim is being judged by the brother of the Car God himself. 

“Yeah, dude,” says Sam. All the sentence needs is a nod and Eileen can read lips pretty well. “ What, did they run out of the other ones ?” 

“ Yes ,” Cas sighs sadly. “ I wasn’t planning on renting a car but I needed time to mentally prepare to come back here . Being carted around by my parents would be more trouble than spending an extra fifty dollars a day. ” 

Sam leans back and whistles low. “ I appreciate you being here, man . I know how much you hate it here .” 

Cas shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know why you wanted to get married here but I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You two are my best friends.” 

You’re so sappy, Cas , Eileen teases. Can you do a speech at our wedding?  

It’s definitely not a forceful invitation but the expectation to accept is there. It’s not that Castiel wouldn’t want to do a Best Friend speech, he’s just worried about seeing Dean in the crowd of faces. Worried about choking up or Dean walking out because how dare Castiel show his face here? How dare he make a speech at his brother’s wedding? That could be the anxiety talking or that could be Dean’s actual reaction. Cas doesn’t know. 

His therapist told him once that he can’t predict everything that’s going to happen. At a time when Cas was at one of his lowest points, he received the best advice he’s ever gotten: The only value things have is the one you put on them . There’s fact and there’s your projections . The value is the projections . 

So he sighs. Yeah, why not ?

Eileen and Sam exclaim their excitement and offer him encouragement. From there, they end up chatting about how their lives have been these past few years. Reminiscing maybe makes Cas feel a little guilty about not keeping in contact with Sam, but Sandover Industries keeps him locked at work with a ball and chain. Balthazar does try his best to get him to go out at least once a week but it usually ends up with him being called to another event halfway across the city. And don’t even get him started on the dates he always dreads going to. Mostly because they never get to a second one. 

Not to mention that lately Meg is stowing away in the Bahamas with her boss, Crowley. Cas is pretty sure she’s in the mafia but that’s neither here nor there. Crowley does some shady shit. 

From then, he learns that Sam has become a partner of one of Kansas City’s best law firms and well, Castiel is impressed. He always knew Sam was successful but didn’t know how much. He really should have kept in contact. 

Eileen is actually doing very well for herself as well. Not only does she teach ASL classes for deaf and hard of hearing youth, she’s also an ER nurse, which sounds physically taxing. But if anyone can handle it, it’s Eileen Leahy, soon to be Leahy-Winchester. 

He kind of wishes he met her before Stanford. Back when his heart wasn’t in a million pieces over Dean and then Mick. Would she have been supportive? Would she have sided with Dean?

Actually, does Sam even know about what happened? Cas certainly didn’t tell him and he’s not sure Dean did either. Cas certainly knows him well enough to say that Dean wouldn’t have told a soul. Not with the venom he spat at Castiel. 

He wonders if Dean has forgotten that night, if he’s changed. If the repression that Dean keeps tight to his chest has been released. He hopes so. Still, Cas can’t help but feel like the Dean of the present still has the same personality as the Dean he met all those years ago. Sam doesn't say much about his brother—not that Castiel asks but… from what little he’s said, Dean’s happy. 

— Lazarus, July 2001

It was an accident when they found the Barn. Abandoned on the outskirts of town, a relic of a long-forgotten past. Dean and Castiel are twelve, still blissfully unaware of the end of what is essentially their childhood. They’ve left the comfort of their homes to explore the unknown. Castiel’s parents are in Palm Springs for the week and have left his teenage cousin Gabriel in charge. Really though, Gabriel could care less, more occupied with shoving his tongue down some poor girl’s throat every other day. 

So Cas took that as his opportunity to sneak out and run to Dean’s house, asking if they can go for an adventure. 

As always, Dean checks on his little brother before he goes. Luckily, his Uncle Bobby’s visiting and can keep an eye on Sam. 

So the two boys head out, grabbing bags of candy and slushies bigger than their faces from the convenience store, running off to the outskirts of town into farmland. They pass by the Fitzgerald farm, which has been the furthest point in their explorations – until today.

Today they keep going. They’re explorers, off to discover new land. That new land ends up being forty minutes down the road, past the Fitzgerald farm, to an abandoned barn nestled in an overgrown field. 

It’s still sturdy even though the wood creaks under their careful hands. The door gets pried open, revealing… not much. There’s a hayloft with straw, a little table in the corner, old graffiti faded away on the walls and that’s about it. 

Castiel turns to look at Dean, unsurprised to see his eyes are filled with glee. He can already see the cogs turning in his head on how to make this the ultimate secret hangout spot. Cas wishes he had his friend’s creativity. 

“Cas, I think we found the motherlode,” he says. 

Dean — One Week Before the Wedding

He’s been antsy since he left Bobby’s. It doesn’t feel right to just… leave his dad there. But Bobby and John have been friends for years, if you could even call it friendship. Dad’s a chronic drunk who often left the boys for weeks at a time, blaming his odd jobs during their childhood. Bobby would step up and take care of Dean and Sam when that happened. The old grouch has given John a piece of his mind more than once, but since they’re both war veterans, it often feels like the only people they have is each other. It still feels nice for Dean though, that Bobby will defend him and Sam until the ends of the earth. If Dean was ever asked, he’d say that Bobby was more his dad than John ever was. In fact, if he ever gets married he’s excluding John from his wedding. The fact that Sam is letting him even be there now is… frustrating.

He expresses said frustration to his brother, who gives a pained smile. 

“It’s Dad,” says Sam, as if that answers everything. 

Dean snorts. “Exactly, it’s Dad!” 

He brings the beer bottle up to his lips, taking a generous swig as he stares out into the yard. It’s mid-afternoon and the two brothers plus Eileen have decided to take a small break amongst the excitement in anticipation of the Big Day. Eileen is currently sitting beside him, fiddling on her phone, unbothered by the conversation, her hearing aid most likely turned off. She does that a lot when he and Sam start arguing. 

Dean wonders who she’s texting but he’s not so nosy as to look over her shoulder.

“So he still deserves to see his son get married! He is paying for most of it,” counters Sam. He’s tending to his plants, his whole six foot four frame crouched down over the tomatoes like they’re his babies. It’s hilarious to see. Sam Winchester, attorney at law, gardening . It’s not a Sam thing to do, but Eileen seems to be influencing him in ways that Dean would never have expected. 

Dean shifts, mostly for the numb feeling in his butt, but also for the uncomfortable feeling of his brother basically excusing their dad’s behaviour. “It’s your wedding, Sammy,” he defends. “I’m just worried he’s going to make a scene and cause another fight. You know it happens every time we’re all in the same room together.”

Sam sighs, pushing himself upwards and groaning at the strain. Dean can’t help but chuckle lightly. His baby brother, the pinnacle of health, a borderline vegetarian, in his supposed prime, is getting old-man pains. He throws Dean Bitch Face Number 32: the Fuck Off one, and fluffs his neck-length hair. Dean swears he’s going to cut it off in his sleep. 

“I won’t let him.” 

That’s a bold faced lie if Dean ever heard one. 

“Okay, well I’m not playing ref to you and Dad’s shit. If either of you have a problem, you can shove it till the end. Best Man duty means making sure everybody has a good time. And that includes you.” With an awkward smile Dean tips more beer into his mouth, using the swill to try and wash the bitterness from his mouth.  

“Well, me having a good time is inviting Dad to the wedding,” Sam argues like a stupid perfect lawyer. 

Dean doesn’t say anything in return, but raises his eyebrows and finishes the bottle before getting up and going inside to throw it away. He can’t deal with Sam when he’s like this. That’s one trait both he and John share: stubbornness. Dean supposes he has it too but he’s a bit more lenient when it comes to oh, I don’t know, inviting our abusive dad to your wedding .

They can’t keep having this argument. Not when the wedding is less than a week away and things are moving faster than they have time to keep up with. Even Eileen, who is usually cool under pressure, is starting to stress. Weddings are hard work, and Dean hopes his own hypothetical wedding will be far less stressful. 

The recycling bin near the front door is bordering on overflowing so Dean decides to be nice and take it out to the front yard where it can be collected in the morning. That’s the thing about suburbs; weekly garbage and recycling pick-up right at your front door! Dean’s only slightly jealous, because while he also gets weekly pick-ups, he has to bring all his crap all the way downstairs in his building. All the way , meaning from where Dean lives on the 18th floor.

Freakin’ suburbs. 

The front yard is significantly cooler than the back now that it’s no longer bathed in direct sunlight. The timed sprinkler has just finished its last round of the day so the moisture still clings in the air. There’s also the thick scent of summer; warm and inviting and nostalgic. 

Dean spends just a bit longer out there than necessary, imagining his life like this. What kind of suburbanite would he be? What kind of job would he have? Who would he be with?

As always, his thoughts return to Cas. It’s always been Cas. The one Dean let get away, the one he couldn’t keep. The one Dean pushed away, if he’s being honest with himself. He wonders if  Cas is happy. The last Dean’s heard of him was when Sam mentioned he was at Stanford, and after that… nothing. Dean’s too proud to ask, though. He knows Sam keeps in touch with Cas, given that they are friends and, well, some hopeful part of him wonders if Cas is attending the wedding. But he hasn’t seen any evidence of that so that tiny sliver of hope is real tiny. 

“Handmaiden, you look like you got ditched at the prom!” crows the redhead across the lawn. 

Charlie Bradbury . 

A true sight for sore eyes. She’s cut her hair since the last time Dean’s seen her, curled and barely down to her chin. As is her style, she’s sporting a nerdy t-shirt (Stranger Things, this time) with some colourful flannel thrown over like she hasn’t a care in the world. And really, she doesn’t. Charlie’s living it up at some cushy IT job, where she can crank funds from the suspicious CEO on the side and donate it to various charities, through what Charlie calls not hacking—but rather ‘using code to put shit where it belongs’. God, he loves her. 

“Aren’t you here to sweep me off my feet, your Highness?” Dean yells back, extending his arms for her to rush into a bone-crushing hug. If he started getting misty-eyed, no he didn’t. Charlie smells like citrus and espresso, something he didn’t know he missed.

They may live in different cities, but they talk nearly every day, making it a point to meet up at least once a month in person to catch up, talk shit (Dean refuses to call it gossiping), and of course, LARPing. Dean is the Queen of Moondoor’s (a.k.a. Charlie’s) faithful handmaiden in Kansas’ biggest nerd RPG game. They’ve won many battles against the Shadow Orcs and have since grown their army to the reaches of out-of-state folks. It’s awesome .

“Eileen texted me,” says Charlie, once they’ve pulled apart. “She says you’ve been moping.”

Offended, Dean scoffs. “I’m not moping !”

His best friend arches her eyebrow in suspicion, hands on her hips like she caught him stealing from the cookie jar. Then she reaches into her back pocket to take out her phone, which she unlocks, tapping on it a few times before showing him the texts between her and Eileen.

Eileen: I hate to ask this of you but we need you here right after you check into your hotel.

Charlie: Uh oh. What’s the emergency?

Eileen: Dean’s moping because Sam’s bringing John to the wedding.

Charlie: Say no more, bestie. I’m on my way. 

Charlie: Why does Sam make bad life choices about his dad?

Eileen: Because he’s Sam. My dumb as rocks fiance. 

Dean doesn’t read any further before pushing the phone back into Charlie’s hand. So Eileen did leave her hearing aid on. A part of him is happy that she and Charlie are becoming good friends but another part is terrified of what they’ve already shared with each other. They’re some chaotic besties if Dean ever saw any. He shudders to think what else they’ve gotten up to.

“Okay, so maybe I’m pissed off that my brother’s being dumb,” he relents. 

“Mhm, mhm, what else is new?” she sasses, pushing past him into the house. “Now get me a drink, handmaiden. The fun has arrived!”

Dean rolls his eyes but follows Charlie into the house anyway. He stops by the kitchen to get a six-pack of ciders (sue him, he likes them!) and join the group in the yard. Charlie’s being chummy with Eileen, speaking to her in rapid-fire ASL while Sam does the same. Dean may no longer be a beginner but he’s not yet at the point where he can keep up with the flying fingers. However, he can read facial expressions and it’s all smiles and raised eyebrows from here. 

So he plasters on a smile, already feeling more relaxed than he was earlier. Thank God for Eileen inviting Charlie to bring the whole mood back together. And here he was thinking that she wasn’t paying attention. 

He waves his arm to get their attention, holding up the pack of ciders and settling them on the deck so he can use both of his hands to communicate. 

“ Please tell me you’re not comparing dick sizes again ,” he teases, signing and speaking at the same time. 

Eileen laughs. “ No, this time it’s our guest list. Charlie wants to know if everyone’s arrived yet. ”  

Ah, yes. Dean should know this: Charlie is Eileen’s Maid of Honour. Of course she needs to know the guest list. Dean should know too, but Charlie said she’d handle it. Actually, she was pretty hard-pressed on not letting him see it. Weird. 

He doesn’t know how to sign this part so he faces Eileen so she can read his lips. “All here and accounted for?” he asks. Instead of a worded reply, Charlie winks and puts her thumbs up, smiling wide and toothy. Dean narrows his eyes in suspicion.“ Is there someone coming that I don’t know about ?” It can’t be Cas. There’s no fucking way. 

“ You’ll see ,” says Charlie, flicking her eyes to Eileen who’s barely keeping a laugh in. Sam is pointedly not looking at Dean. Is he in on this too? 

Dean turns his attention to his brother. “What do I not know?” His temper is rising, and he’s too riled up to sign. It’s a dick move, he knows, but his brain is strictly one-track at this point. 

“ Look, don’t hate me for this, but he’s my friend ,” Sam stammers, which isn’t a good start. “ And he introduced me to Eileen so it’s not like he can’t be invited. He was supposed to be part of my bachelor gang but he said no and really, I couldn’t not invite him !” 

Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing. There’s no fucking way Sam invited Cas. There’s no way Cas would say yes to coming back to the hometown he hates . 

“Where’s he staying?” Dean asks, surprised that his tone is even and his voice is steady. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Charlie’s begun to translate for Eileen. God, he feels like such a dick.

“ His parent’s house .” 

That’s a surprise. Cas has always expressed how much he hates being with his parents. It’s why he’s always made it a point to sleepover as many nights with Dean as possible. Maybe things have changed. Maybe Cas turned into a completely different person over the last fifteen years. God knows Dean has. 

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because—,” Sam starts, but opens and closes his mouth like he’s searching for an answer. His hands falter and he casts an apologetic look at his fiancé. “Cause we didn’t know how you’d react!” Sam defends, hands punctuating the end of his sentence by spreading wide, pleadingly.  “I mean, you never wanna talk about him or what happened and that’s fine but—Dean, he was my friend, too. And I should count myself fucking lucky he’s even talking to me, let alone coming to my wedding , in the very place he swore he’d never come back to ever again!” 

Dean says nothing as Sam’s hands fall to his sides, defeated. Sam’s right, and Dean’s just being a dick for no reason. He doesn’t own Cas, nor does he have any say in what he does. Dean’s family and friends don’t know what happened that night and he prays to any and all gods out there that they never find out. They’d never forgive him. Sure, he’s a changed man now, but if they ever learn the ugly-ass truth about why he drove away one of the best things in his life, in their lives, well... they’d tear it all down, too. 

“Fine,” says Dean, wiping a hand over his face. “I can’t stop you from inviting anyone you want and I’m sorry for being a dick about Dad and now… Cas.”

In true Sam fashion, he plants a hand on Dean’s shoulder and gives him his biggest puppy eyes. “It’s okay, Dean.” 

Dean shudders and rolls his shoulders to get Sam off him before he gets dragged into a hug . Fucking feelings .

— Lazarus, April 2002

Dad’s drunk again. 

His first instinct is to check on Sammy, make sure he’s sleeping so he doesn’t have to hear the belt. But Sammy’s not here. Dean is all alone. 

Does Dad know he’s alone? 

Dean strains his ears to hear the familiar heavy footfalls up the stairs. His heart pounds in his ears, hand plastered over his mouth, muffling the sound of his shuddering breaths. 

“Dean?” Dad calls out. “You home, you sonuvabitch?” 

Frozen by hard-learned instincts, Dean stays where he is and says nothing. He waits, and he listens for John Winchester’s next steps. They get closer and closer until they’re right in front of his door. He mentally prepares himself for his dad to burst open the door, yell at Dean for any, or even no reason at all, and take out the belt. 

Yet for some reason, John doesn’t move. He just stands there in front of Dean’s bedroom door and breathes the heavy breaths of the excessively drunk.

“Shit,” Dad mutters. “Little shits…” 

Having got that out of his system, he just…leaves. His boots creak on the old floors, and the door to the master bedroom shuts closed. As soon as it’s quiet, Dean wrenches open his bedroom door and bolts outside, taking the opportunity as it appears. It’s a miracle Dad doesn’t hear him. 

He runs non-stop as fast as his feet will carry him, all the way to the Novak house two blocks away. He’s panting and heaving when he reaches the impressively large farmhouse. He stops out of sight, realizing he can’t just walk up and ring the doorbell. What would they think of Dean Winchester coming here at this time of night? There’s only one thing he can do. 

A rock whistles through the air, rattling against the bedroom window of Dean’s best friend. He waits for a minute, then throws another one when there’s no response. He throws another, and another until finally a light turns on and a disgruntled Castiel pokes his head through the window. 

“What the hell?” he groans, squinting down below. 

Dean smiles and waves from below. “Hey, Cas.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

Dean’s smile falters just a little. Does he tell Cas what his dad does when he comes home after being gone for days at a time, drunk off his ass? No. Cas would tell his parents and they’d call CPS, who would no doubt separate him from Sammy. That can’t happen. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says instead.

“So you thought you’d bother me and make sure I can’t sleep?” grumbles Cas, wiping the crud from his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs. “Wanna hang out?” 

“ Now ?” 

Geez, Cas is such a grouch when he’s tired. He rolls his eyes. “ Yes , now!”

Cas leans back from the window and sighs like he can’t believe he’s friends with Dean. Honestly, Dean doesn’t know why Cas is friends with him either, but he’s sure as hell happy to keep bothering him as long as his luck holds. 

“Fine,” Cas relents. “I’m gonna go unlock the back door, but be quiet ,” he warns, flicking his head back in caution. 

Dean shoots him what will go on to become his trademark, award-winning smile and rushes to the back door to wait for Cas. He’s careful not to set off one of the many trigger-happy sprinklers on the Novaks’ well-manicured lawn. 

He nearly gives them away laughing when he sees Cas creep down the stairs with a flashlight in hand, his bare feet tiptoeing on the hardwood floors. His friend’s hair is the longest it’s ever been, sticking up at all angles, and his small frame is nearly swallowed by his oversized t-shirt.

Cas’s scowl turns deeper when he sees the smile Dean’s sporting, and he hesitates a moment before carefully unlocking the glass patio door. He puts a finger to his lips in a silent threat as he makes sure the door opens as quietly as possible, then motions for Dean to come upstairs with him. 

A giggle presses at the back of Dean’s throat, threatening to burst out of his chest but he holds it in, even if only just. There is nothing more terrifying than Mr and Mrs Novak finding out that their precious, rule-following son has been harbouring him of all people. 

Once they’ve managed to sneak back into Cas’ room, Cas closes the door with the utmost care and puffs out a sigh of relief. He rests his forehead on the door momentarily before turning to face the cause of his current unrest.

“Why are you here, Dean?” 

“Geez, what’s with the third degree? I told you I couldn’t sleep.” Dean shrugs. Outwardly, he’s trying to appear as calm and cool as possible. Cas always seems to just know and he can’t let this get away from him. 

Cas levels him with a heavy stare, but Dean just stares back. He’s not letting Cas in, this time. Nope. He can’t be separated from Sammy. That’s just not happening. 

“Fine,” Cas relents. “I’m not gonna be sleeping again anyway. You’ve ruined my precious eight hours.” 

Dean grins stupidly, rushing to Cas’ closet to pull out the comic books he’s hidden from his overly religious parents. Dean had taken him to a comic book shop that previous summer, prompting Cas to declare it was the ‘most rebellious’ thing he’d ever done. 

“We can just read, Cas,” Dean offers. “I…I don’t want to be alone tonight, man.” Somehow, with Cas, the vulnerability doesn’t feel like a weakness.

Chapter Text

Cas - Two Days Before the Wedding 

It’s nearly a day before the festivities, and Cas is back in not-his old room, currently racking his brain trying to write this damn friends’ speech. What does he even say? Where on earth does he start? 

He could say something about Stanford, but that won’t show the full extent of his and Sam’s friendship. He really wants to do it right. But… fuck. Putting words onto paper is the hardest part. He sends a silent prayer of gratitude to all the writers out there. 

The best he can do is write strings of numbers and make calculations work correctly. (And maybe pen a poem or two about Dean Winchester, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He checks his phone for the fifth time, staring at the text that he’s dreading replying to. Sam has invited him for a pre-wedding and pre-rehearsal dinner barbecue at the Winchester house tonight. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him anymore, considering how impressive it is that he’s lasted this long without going to that house , let alone the Barn. He needs to suck it up and face his fears. So what if Dean’s there? Cas shouldn’t be bothered by a man he hasn’t spoken to in fifteen years, especially after what was said. If anything, Cas should be seething, plotting his revenge with a cold and calculated nature. 

In reality, Cas forgave Dean a long time ago. The bite of his words that night were almost guaranteed to be thanks to John Winchester’s A+ parenting, in a toxic combination with Dean’s own self-hating nature.

Fuck it. Castiel has made his decision. 

He sends the confirmation text to Sam, and sets to work on  writing whatever comes to mind. He’ll fix it later but he’s on a roll, the words pouring out like some long-clogged tap flushing out. They probably don’t make sense but that’s what editing is for. Maybe he’ll send Bal the first draft. Or Meg. Whoever’s available. 

Sam’s response comes quickly and Cas briefly looks at it before turning back to his speech. He actually gets pretty far into it before his phone starts buzzing with an incoming call. Upon checking it, he sees Meg’s caller ID. Surprised, he answers. 

“The Bahamas have service now?” he quips. 

Meg’s cool voice is quick to reply. “Don’t be jealous I’m living it up in paradise.”

“Mhm, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

“Can I not talk to my bestie?” 

He rolls his eyes fondly. Meg isn’t one for spontaneity. She must want to ask him something. “Spit it out, Meg.”

“Balthazar’s worried for you,” she confesses nonchalantly, like she could care less about this entire ordeal. He imagines her filing her nails. “He thinks you’re going to fail spectacularly at this speech thing.” 

“I appreciate the encouragement,” he says dryly. “And what do you say?” 

“Me?” she scoffs, sipping on what is probably some overly sweet, high alcohol content, all-inclusive fruity drink. “I don’t give a shit, Clarence. Which is why I’ll be proofreading your speech. Make sure it’s not so gross and sappy it makes me want to puke in my mouth.” 

He sighs. “You two are making me want new friends.” 

“Suck it up, unicorn. We’re your only friends,” she reminds Castiel. 

Curse him and his inability to connect with people. It’s not his fault he’s the most socially awkward human being on the planet. 

Resigned, he sighs deeply and tells her he’ll send her what he’s got so far. Then he asks if there’s any other reason she’s calling him. 

“Would you believe it if I told you I missed you?” she says softly, her tone changing from playful to sincere. 

“I miss you too,” Cas replies, his heart soaring with affection. “When do you think you’ll be back?” 

Meg is silent for a moment. “I…don’t know.” 

“That’s okay, Meg,” Cas reassures, his chest beginning to ache. “Just keep updating us, and Bal and I will be the first to welcome you home.” 

She’s been in the Bahamas for nearly two months now. Her job with Crowley is more suffocating than she lets on. He hopes she’ll be back soon. 

“Thanks, Castiel,” Meg sighs, and Cas is grateful she’s actually using his name this time. “I’ve gotta go now but I’ll look over the draft and send it to you within the next couple hours. Good luck tonight.” 

“Thank you. Love you, you menace,” he quips to lighten their goodbye.

“Keep talking dirty, it makes my meat suit all gooey,” Meg crows. “Love you too,” she quickly says as she hangs up. 

Cas just sits, taking in the moment until a car horn prompts him to check the time on his phone. He realizes he’s about to be late for the party, and mild panic creeps in. 

“ Shit ,” he curses, hopping out of his chair. Sweatpants and an old t-shirt are just not gonna cut it tonight. He rips open his suitcase, digging out the nicest pairs of jeans he has and a patterned button-down. Let it be known that Castiel’s fashion sense has improved since Balthazar started raiding his closet and taking him shopping for new clothes. If Cas had it his way, it would be slacks and dress shirts for every occasion. He doesn’t know why he wears them all the time, but Balthazar would be on a plane coming here in a flash if he even caught a whiff of Castiel being inappropriately dressed for a goddamn barbecue. Not to mention, Dean is likely to be there. It is his childhood home, after all. 

Once he feels that he’s adequately dressed, he grabs the fancy champagne he bought in New York for the fiancés, bids his parents goodbye while they indulge in their soap opera ritual and heads out, popping in his earbuds to walk right over. Benefits of a small town and all that. 

Holy Ground by Taylor Swift begins playing and he tries not to think about the meaning it has for him. So he skips the song, as much as it pains him. For some reason his music wants to hurt him today, now playing Strangers by Celeste. Skip. The Story by Conan Gray. Jesus Christ. Skip. Rich Girl by Hall & Oates. Finally, something decent.

He lets that be his soundtrack as he walks, hoping by the time he gets there his playlist hasn’t shuffled to another sad song. At least Rich Girl is upbeat enough to make him want to take longer strides and dance just a little to improve his mood. He may be slightly regretting saying yes to coming. But this is for Sam and Eileen, not for him or Dean or anyone else. By God, he’s going to have fun regardless of the circumstance. 

Miraculously, he makes it to the Winchester house as the intro to the next song plays. To his horror,  it’s Hurt by Johnny Cash. Rude. Pulling his headphones out, he shakes it off (heh) and enters the already bustling and noisy house. Faces of people he hasn’t seen in years swarm in his vision. There are a few that say hi, while he just waves back with a white-person smile and keeps going in. 

Once he manages to get to the backyard, it's like he’s stepped into a memory. Bobby Singer in the lawn chair nursing a beer, scowling at John Winchester next to him,  whose leg shakes from alcohol withdrawal as they chat up a storm. There’s Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo, Rufus Turner poking around and… there they all are. Sam and Eileen hovering around the barbecue. Charlie Bradbury is on the other end and in the middle, cooking the most mouth-watering food is Dean Winchester. 

Anxiety swirls in his chest and he wants to leave immediately. But too many people have seen him and it’s not like he can’t show up when he said he’d be there. So he smiles and approaches Sam and Eileen first, who greet him with the utmost energy. He presents the champagne bottle which Sam graciously thanks him for and heads inside to put it away. 

He makes light conversation with Eileen until he feels a presence behind him. It’s not a Dean presence, Cas knows that much. In fact it’s a lot more exciting and something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Hey, Castiel,” chirps the voice of Charlie Bradbury. He turns around only to be engulfed in the most comforting hug.

“Charlie,” Cas sighs into the crook of her neck. “It’s been forever, how are you?”

“Livin’ the dream,” she clicks with her teeth, pointing finger guns at him. He chuckles, his chest rumbling. “You?”

“Ah, can’t complain,” he shrugs. “Accounting in New York pays well.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows and a small smile quirks the edge of her lips. “Like, actual accounting or ‘accounting’?” she teases, putting air quotes around the second ‘accounting’. 

He frowns, not quite getting what she’s implying. “Accounting, Charlie. What else would it be?”

A slightly embarrassed flush appears on her freckled cheeks. “Sorry, I forget not everyone’s on TikTok like I am. Strippers and sex workers like to call what they do accounting to avoid censorship. Stupid prudish patriarchy,” she explains. Cas nods, thankful for the explanation. Most people in New York would just brush it off and leave him the butt of the joke. It’s not his fault he’s not as tech-savvy and familiar with internet lingo as he would like.

“I assume you’re still hacking and stealing from big corporations?” he asks.

“You know it, buddy,” she winks, then her features soften. She pulls him in for another hug which he’s maybe slightly becoming addicted to. It’s almost comical in the way that he wishes he had reached out to her since he left. He hadn’t felt like it was his place to do so, though. He had Balthazar and Meg, and she needed to be there for Dean. They were closer, after all. And he didn’t want to make her play referee between them. Charlie pulls away, eyes glistening. “I really missed you, Cas, and I think a lot of people here did too. I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Thank you, Charlie. I missed you too.” Admittedly, his eyes are wet too. He imagines there will be a lot of that this weekend. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good friend.”

She laughs wetly, now with more tears down her face. Cas can feel it too. It’s like the relief of knowing that they’re both okay and that they’ve grown so much in fifteen years and yet it’s like it’s never changed. It may be selfish of him but he wants to keep talking to Charlie. He wants to keep her in his social circle. He wants to take her to New York, to show her the queer scene. He wants to be her friend again. 

“Two way street, Cas. It’s okay. We’ll work on it.” It’s a wonderful assuagement to Cas’ guilt. They end up chatting for a little longer while their tears manage to dry. Then Charlie ends up expressing that she needs a drink, offering Cas one who awkwardly agrees, and he watches her duck inside the house to the kitchen. He looks around. Eileen is nowhere to be found and neither is Sam. The only familiar person in his vicinity is Dean. 

Dean seems to make a decision before he can. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas freezes. Dean is looking unfairly handsome with his rugged but polished look. Cuffed jean shorts paired with an ACDC t-shirt that is well-fitted over his solid and muscular frame. His face is slightly sweaty from the summer heat, his freckles more pronounced, smattered over high cheekbones. And his eyes. Oh, those beautiful green eyes Castiel missed so much. His hair , too. It’s grown out a bit, brushing over his forehead in feathery locks. 

“Hello, Dean,” he grits out, his throat dry. 

Dean smiles gently and his hand rubs against the back of his neck. “So, um, it’s been a… long time.”

“Yes. It has,” he clips. Eloquent, Castiel. You’re a modern Shakespeare .

“I uh, don’t s’pose you’re happy to see me, are you?” Dean chuckles half-heartedly. “I mean I wouldn’t be.” 

Ah, and there’s that self-deprecation and low self-esteem he always sports. Cas is honestly a little upset Dean still has that mindset. 

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, I’m honestly surprised you’re talking to me.”

Dean frowns, and it still looks so effortlessly beautiful. “Why would I not talk to you?” his stupid perfect lips say. 

“Well—”

And that is the exact moment that Charlie returns, along with Sam and Eileen, who have somehow become drunk in the maybe ten minutes they were gone. Charlie answers his question by whispering the word shots loud enough for him and Dean to hear and while Cas snorts, Dean actually laughs. Cas cannot help but stare because he’s still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester. The dorky thirteen year old who snuck into his bedroom to read comic books, the cocky fifteen year old sneaking his dad’s booze in the barn, the seventeen year old trying to save enough money to start Sam’s college fund, and the hopeful eighteen year old with a dream to travel the world. That’s all within the Dean Winchester he sees right now. 

He’s seemed to have changed so much, and yet so little. 

Something presses into his hand and it’s the drink Charlie promised. He tilts the glass up to his lips and tastes it, finding it sweeter than he expected. 

“What’s in this?” he asks her. 

“Little bit of lemonade, a hell of a lot of gin,” she grins, spinning to dance to the music in the lawn. Okay, so she’s definitely taken shots in the kitchen, too. 

Cas and Dean don’t end up talking to each other for a good portion of the night but they do steal glances every so often. It’s surprising to see how openly affectionate Dean is now, even with John there. He looks… comfortable. And he hasn’t had more than two drinks since he’s seen him here.

Meanwhile Cas keeps getting handed more booze from an over-enthusiastic Charlie who continues trying to get him to dance. He finds that despite several attempts to make conversation with people he hasn’t seen in a long time, it’s better for him to hang out in the little nook he’s made in the yard. Sam and Eileen keep being pulled away by various well-wishers. 

He sits in an unoccupied lawn chair and makes light chatter with Rufus, which is really just the old man complaining about everything while Cas lends him an ear. Bobby, who Cas now notices is not in a lawn chair but in a wheelchair , says very few words but Cas can tell the other old man is happy he’s here. John says nothing and Cas would like to keep it that way. 

The food is absolutely delicious. Burgers, ribs, potato salad, you name it. It’s nothing like what he gets in New York with the high-quality ingredients and the presentation you can eat with your eyes. However, home cooked meals are the best. No contest. And knowing Dean’s made them makes it even better. 

But you still can’t talk to him , his thoughts remind him. 

No shit, he can’t talk to Dean. What does he even say? Oh, how’s your life doing? Good? I still think about you all the time even though I’m trying to find my own happiness but for some reason I just can’t get over you. 

It’s well into the night and he’s feeling a tad tipsy. Apparently Meg sent him the edited version of his speech earlier and he has yet to look at it. He finds her message quite funny. 

Meg: Your speech did make me puke in my mouth a little. But it was cute. Have fun, my unicorn 🦄 

Okay, maybe tipsy is a vast understatement because as soon as he stands up, he’s feeling the effects hard . A groan escapes his mouth and he realizes he needs to pee badly. So he stumbles into the house and makes his way to the thankfully unoccupied bathroom. While he sits, he silently berates himself for getting so drunk so quickly. Everyone must think he’s a mess. 

God, why did he come here?  

The sink is loud in his ears despite the constant music playing in the house. He ends up splashing water on his face to hopefully sober himself up a little, but that doesn’t do much. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, bracing himself on the edge of the sink. “I need to leave.” 

The decision’s been made. Cas is going to say his goodbyes and head out before he ends up with a worse hangover, allowing him to be an actual functioning human being for the rehearsal dinner. 

But first, water. He wobbles into the kitchen and finds a half-open package of water bottles. Smart idea. He cracks one open and chugs it like he’s dying of thirst, only to make eye contact with the one and only Dean fucking Winchester. Dean looks like a deer caught in the headlights and yet no one notices the two of them caught in some sort of weird staring contest in the middle of the kitchen. 

There’s no one here, though. Cas hears laughter from the living room, but he thinks more people have migrated outside or have left. He gulps the last mouthful of water and wipes his mouth, watching Dean track the movements with his eyes. 

Oh, no . 

It may just be the gin talking, but that seems too significant to miss noting. 

“Am I in your way?” Cas asks, his tone sounding harsher than he intended. Goddamn it.  

Dean is released from the trance. His jaw sets and his eyes harden. “Why would you be in my way?” he snips. 

“Sorry,” Cas stammers, gesturing wildly and trying to move away from the counter. “I just meant in case you needed something that I’m in front of.” 

“Oh.” 

And just like that, Dean relaxes. It’s so small a change, so very easy to miss, but when someone like Castiel has known someone like Dean this long, there’s certain things you pick up on. Dean says everything with his body language, even if his words are forced and harsh.

Maybe Cas misinterpreted what happened that night. Blinded to all those small cues, the ones only people who know Dean would know. He was simply too upset, and too heartbroken to notice what Dean was screaming internally. 

Fuck, he needs to leave. Now . 

“I, um, I’m gonna head back,” mutters Cas, backing away slowly. “The food was delicious, Dean. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” says Dean, purposefully blank. As Cas moves past him, Dean just stands there, his expression and body language now entirely unreadable. His feet lead him to the backyard where he says goodbye and accepts another hug from Charlie and from Sam and Eileen before he heads out, meeting Dean’s eyes again past the kitchen. He’s out the door before he can really process everything. 

“ Fuck .” 

He keeps walking.

— Lazarus, June 2007

Cas is devastated. Not only that but heartbroken, terrified, gutted . 

Not only did his best friend just betray him, he said things that should never be said to someone you care about. Just goes to show how bigoted some people are. 

The way home from the Barn is familiar. He lets muscle memory be his guide while his vision is blurred by the fat tears rolling down his face. He’s so angry . Livid . How could he? After everything they’ve been through? 

He needs to leave this town. So much for school at Kansas with Dean. He’s going to pursue his dreams at Stanford. Almost a whole coast away is the perfect place to be as far from Dean Winchester as possible. It’s not too late yet to accept Stanford and reject KU. His parents would be happier anyway. 

So much for their road trip. Dean ruined everything . Cas thought he could trust him with this uttermost secret. Every sign pointed to yes, you can tell your best friend! He won’t hate you for it!

But Dean does hate him for it. Something so integral to Cas’ identity that it shouldn’t change anything but it did. Cas has to move on, now. 

He makes it back home, his cheeks thankfully dry. He has no inclination to talk to his parents about what happened since they don’t know anything. They can’t know anything. Their small church community would shun him and the whole Novak family if they knew. 

He thinks back to confession, how he would shake in the booth, sweaty hands clasped together as he recounted feeling shame for his sins. All he got were Hail Mary’s twice every morning and every night and a promise to do better, as God is always watching. But if God was watching and loved everyone unconditionally, why did Cas turn out like this? 

Cas grits his teeth as he chokes down another sob in the comfort of his room. His closet door wrenches open, and with shaking hands he pulls out the comic books he would read with Dean, throwing them across the floor. Crouching down to his knees, he grabs the nearest book, intending to rip it to pieces but he falters once he hears the crack of the spine. 

Suddenly he can’t hold it in anymore. Castiel breaks down in gut-wrenching sobs, clasping his hand to his mouth to muffle the noise. He gasps in between heaves, lungs struggling to find the strength to breathe. His body curls in on itself, trying to protect and conceal him from the world; one that has proven too harsh for him. Dean was his last sliver of hope in this godforsaken town and he tore it to shreds.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he cries to an unanswering void. 

—

It’s no miracle that Cas discovers Taylor Swift very soon after everything. She’s comforting in his darkest moments, and he relates especially hard to Picture to Burn . Only he can’t bring himself to burn any pictures. 

Dean doesn’t come by the house, nor does he call or text. Not a letter, or a note. Nothing. 

Not even Sam comes by to say hi. Neither does Charlie.

Castiel spends his summer alone. 

— Stanford, August 2007

Two months later, Cas finds himself on the beautifully manicured lawns of Stanford University. The ivy-covered walls are a monument to how far he’s come. It’s gorgeous. Best of all, it’s far away from Dean. Far away from Lazarus. Far away from… is it even home anymore? 

His parents stand proud beside him; accompanying him through orientation, meeting his RA, moving everything into his dorm, meeting his roommate. During the entire day, they exude pride like a pungent smell. It’s a little uncomfortable, to be honest. Even on the entire plane ride there, they kept expressing how wonderful of him it was to attend Stanford and how it was a far better school than KU. Castiel secretly agrees, wishing the worst upon Dean Winchester. 

His roommate is dull. No problem for Cas since he doesn’t feel like making friends anymore. He doesn’t deserve friends. They’re just going to let him down anyway. He’s only here to focus on his grades, major in Mathematics so he can be an accountant like so many others in his family. Family is the only thing that can be trusted now. Family won’t let you down. 

All he wants is to forget Dean ever existed. To forget Lazarus, to forget everyone and everything he ever knew. 

He just wants to stop hurting . 

Dean — The Rehearsal Dinner

So last night was… interesting. Honestly, Dean wasn’t expecting the tension between him and Cas to be so… electric. 

And Dean was sober ! He had to be. God knows what Dean would have said to Cas if he somehow drank too much. Honestly, he was surprised he didn’t end up on his knees when he first saw Cas at the party. The man is gorgeous . Seriously. Fifteen years have done wonders for him – not that he wasn’t attractive before. He’s all chiseled, with stubble and runner’s thighs and those goddamn baby blue eyes. 

Shit, he’s thirsting over someone who hates him. Just his luck. 

The eggs he’s cooking in the pan begin to pop, and he slices in between the whites to separate them. Bacon sizzles next to them in the cast iron, and Dean begins to feel his thoughts fade away. Cooking is therapeutic for him. It’s a love language he’s come to learn and embrace. Sam and Eileen are probably hungover from the amount of shots everyone and their dogs convinced them to take. He cringes for their livers these next two days. 

However, that’s not what the plan is for the day. They can get trashed at the rehearsal dinner later. Nearly the entire day is dedicated to their respective bachelor/bachelorette parties. Both Dean and Charlie have the best things planned today.

Charlie’s absolutely useless at cooking so she settles at the island counter, stealing berries and sticking her purple tongue out at Dean every time he turns around. 

Sam and Eileen stumble down the stairs, looking every bit as hungover as they possibly can. Sam’s hair is sticking up in all places and Eileen matches him but she at least has the smarts to put it in a bun. Their faces are contorted in discomfort and their yawns are nothing short of contagious. 

“Morning, lovebirds!” Dean chirps. “Coffee?” 

“Shh, turn it down,” mumbles Sam as he plops down on the table. Charlie immediately presents him with a cup of coffee. 

“You know there’s a really good cure for a hangover. It’s a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray,” Dean harps, turning off the stove elements and putting the bacon in a paper-towel lined bowl. The eggs are divided among their plates. Charlie helps him set the table. 

Sam gags. “I hate you so much right now.” 

“I know you do. That’s why I made you breakfast. Now eat.” 

Eileen seems to look better than his brother does, and she snaps to get Dean’s attention. 

How much bacon can I steal for myself? she asks, brows furrowed menacingly.. 

As much as you want.

Satisfied with her answer, Eileen grabs six pieces and begins chomping at them like she’s never going to see bacon again. Sam purses his lips, poking at his eggs until he sees the toast which he immediately reaches for with his freakishly long arms. 

Animals. 

With enough coffee to kill a small child and enough grease to warrant a heart attack, Sam and Eileen are looking a lot more refreshed. God knows Dean and Charlie feel the same. Once everyone has been fed and watered, Dean and Charlie clean up while the soon-to-be-newlyweds get dressed for the day with the outfits that were picked out for them. The peanut gallery can remain silent, thank you, they are absolutely not ridiculous! 

Charlie nudges him with her shoulder from where she’s scrubbing and he’s drying. “So, how was seeing Cas again?”

Dean’s hand falters from drying the plate he’s holding. He knows she’s teasing him, that she wants to dig out what really happened that night and what exactly their deal is with each other because she definitely noticed the staring. She may have been drunk but she’s on Dean’s ass constantly like a hawk. 

“It was fine,” he says, trying not to break down and squeal that Cas is here ! “We… talked, I guess?”

“You mostly made moon-eyes at each other the entire time. I wouldn’t classify that as talking.”

“Okay, well he said the food was delicious so that counts for something.” 

“Dude, he was about to marry that food!” 

Dean flushes red, honoured that someone like Cas, who lives in the cushiest place like New York City, would find his food so good. He just cooks for fun. He didn’t take classes, just started with his grandparent’s recipes from Dad’s side and made them his own. 

“What do you want me to say, Charlie? That I poured my heart out to a guy that probably hates me, or if anything, just barely tolerates me?” He resumes his drying, tackling the growing pile that Charlie gave him while he was basically short-circuiting. 

“Well, not that but like, asked how he was doing. You know, small talk.” 

“Small talk,” he repeats. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m not good at small talk.” 

His best friend sighs like he’s being the most difficult person alive. “Well you’re gonna have to be if you wanna get back in Cas’s good graces. That’s if he actually hates you. Which I highly doubt.” 

“He does hate me!” 

“Well, how am I supposed to know that if you won’t tell me what happened!” she exclaims with a huff, splashing her hands in the sudsy water, spraying soap and water everywhere. 

Biting back his anger, Dean breathes in, then back out. “That’s not something I want to talk about,” he states calmly.

Surprisingly, Charlie’s not at all offended. “Oh, okay. I’m sorry.” She gives him an understanding look, her apology genuine.

“Thanks.” 

A moment passes between them before they end up talking about something completely unrelated for a little while until the lucky couple comes down the stairs again. Eileen is wearing something pretty comfortable. She’s got her hair tied up in a tight ponytail with cargo shorts and a sporty tank top. Dean raises an eyebrow at Charlie who gives him a devilish smile. Oh, she’s got something good. He can’t wait to hear what they’ve done. Sam is wearing what Dean’s picked out which is some swim shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy.

They’ve decided to go non-traditional for their stag/hen parties, going for something in the daytime and for it to be something fun they can recount later. And also so they can save the pain of being hungover on their wedding day. And really, it’s so they can have fun with each other’s bridal parties before they leave for three weeks on their Irish honeymoon adventure. 

Charlie and Eileen leave first, the brothers waving them goodbye. Sam gives his fiance a sweet kiss that lasts maybe a few seconds too long. 

“What’s the plan, Dean?” asks Sam, who stuffs his hands in his front pockets, leaning against the counter. 

Dean flicks his keys at his little brother with a mischievous grin. “Ready for a road trip?”

The Impala roars under Dean’s loving touch. Sam laughs beside him and slides in a cassette tape from Dean’s extensive collection. Of course it’s Led Zeppelin, a staple of their childhood from spontaneous road trips their Dad would take them on. Their childhood wasn’t the happiest but memories in this car will almost always be good. 

Dean speeds down the back roads of Lazarus and he ends up picking up a few people along the way. First they grab Garth from his farm and then it’s Benny and Kevin. It’s a tight squeeze in the Impala but they make it work. They joke about shoving Garth in the trunk since he’s such a string bean of a guy and can fit pretty snug next to the cooler. They’re not going very far though; just a couple hours outside of town to a scenic river. 

Sam isn’t the biggest party animal. He did plenty of that in college. So they’re all going fishing. All the other guys seem plenty happy with doing it as well. It’s calming and invites all sorts of conversation that they never get to have since usually they’ll hang out somewhere public. 

Dean pulls into a quiet spot and they all stumble out laughing and crowding around Sam. It is his special weekend after all. Dean hangs back and unpacks the fishing rods from where they’re nestled in the false bottom of the car’s trunk. Once those are out, Garth, who’s pulled away, grabs the rods from Dean to hand them out to everyone while Dean grabs the cooler and locks the car. The five of them venture down closer to the shore to find a flatter piece of land to set up base for a while. Just in case, Dean sets an alarm on his phone for when they need to head back to make it to the rehearsal dinner and places it on a nearby rock, the ringer turned all the way up.

A couple hours later, they all find themselves laughing boisterously while recounting things from their friendship with Sam – as well as the friendships with each other. It’s very much a buddy-buddy good time. Dean’s happy. He’s enjoying the company of the guys he doesn’t see or hang out with very often. Garth still lives in Lazarus, taking care of his family farm with his wife Bess and daughter Gertie. Benny actually owns a food truck that he travels around the country with, but his home base is in Louisiana. And Kevin is going to get into his Master’s for a PhD in Political Science. Dean’s very proud of his successful friends. All he really has to show is his mechanic shop in Kansas City. 

But it’s not about him. 

“Everyone,” he announces after everyone (excluding himself) has chugged through a couple beers and have caught a couple live ones to cook for their lunch. Don’t worry, Dean brought lemons and seasonings. “I’ve got to say something about my baby brother.”

Sam groans with embarrassment but he’s smiling wide from where he’s submerged calf-deep in the river, Benny wades closer to slap him on the shoulders. 

“As you all know,” Dean continues. “I love Sammy more than I love life itself. He is my lifeline and my friend. He’s always been there for me and he’ll always be there for you. That’s the kind of man Sam is. He’s stubborn as all hell but when he is strong on something, he’s the best guy you can count on. I can’t wait to see you get married to the most awesome woman. I’m so proud of you.”

And if Dean tears up a little while saying all this, no one says a thing. Because they’re all cheering and pushing Dean in the water to hug his brother. Sam pulls him in his arms and they hold on for just a little while, tapping each other on the back. 

“You should’ve saved that for the rehearsal dinner,” Sam teases, but his throat sounds clogged with tears. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” 

“Looking forward to it.” 

With that they pull away, their hands on each other’s shoulders. 

“We should probably get out of the water and cook those trout, huh?” says Dean, pushing his brother slightly. Sam notices the jibe and then with his gigantor arms, pushes Dean with full force and knocks him into the water, which in turn, causes Dean to grab Sam’s shirt and drag him down, too. Which means now they’re both soaked. The other guys take this as an opportunity to rip off their shirts and join them in the water, splashing each other with gusto, scaring away the remainder of the fish. 

The boys come back with full bellies and half-dried clothes, getting dropped off one by one to get ready for the rehearsal dinner in a few hours. Once Sam and Dean are alone again, there’s a soft moment just waiting to float down. 

“This was really fun, Dean. Thank you,” Sam expresses softly. Dean glances for just a moment to see Sam’s soft puppy-dog face. Sap.

“What, were you expecting strippers?” he teases.

Sam just shrugs, a smile teasing the edge of his lips. “A little, yeah.”

“Asshole,” he chuckles. 

Eileen and Charlie are already back, evident by Charlie’s yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. Another indicator is the fact that they’re lounging on the front lawn chairs, holding what looks to be Gatorades. Dean waves and heads down the road to access the alley so he can put the Impala safely in the garage. 

The girls pass them each a bottle and the four of them just end up hanging out on the lawn for a little while. Charlie tells them about their party, which consisted of Eileen, Charlie, Jo, and a couple of Eileen’s friends; Jody and Donna. They went paintballing, which sounds all kinds of awesome and right up Eileen’s alley. Dean recounts their party in return. 

Eileen hums and sits up, snapping her fingers to get everyone’s attention. We should get ready for tonight , she reminds them. And she’s right. Dean checks his watch, and it’s 4:00 PM. The dinner starts at 6:30, and if Dean knows women and Sam, he knows they need a bit more time to get ready and get their hair done and whatnot. Plus, he’s playing chauffeur to all of them tonight so he needs to give them a little wiggle room. 

Dean needs a shower. And maybe a shave. He knows he’s going to be quicker than the three of them but there’s no reason he can’t make sure everything else is running smoothly. He is the Best Man, after all. There’s only two bathrooms in the house. Charlie’s occupying one while Sam and Eileen occupy the other one, and he really doesn’t want to think about that. He hopes they’re punctual about it, though. 

Once everyone’s dressed and ready by 6:11, they all climb in the Impala, looking like the hottest crew Lazarus has ever seen. An AC/DC cassette blasts through the speakers as they head over to the Town Hall. It’s already decorated to the nines which they all ooh and awe at. Green and gold nearly envelops the entire room. A magnificent arch stands in the centre with a photo booth on the right and the guest book on a table for any last minute wedding gifts on the left. Eileen exclaims that it’s almost exactly how she imagined it. 

Everyone else meets up with them along with the wedding officiant who takes them all through the motions of the ceremony. It’s very cut-and-dry, which Dean appreciates. There’s no need to go over vows and really all they need to do is make sure they’re in the right positions when everything goes down. Eileen’s parents stop by later to map out when they both bring her down the aisle and that’s about it. That’s the beauty of town hall weddings. They have an official room and a decorator and none of this fancy shit they have to go through. To be fair, Dean hasn’t been present for most of the wedding planning anyway but Sam and Eileen wanted to keep things simple. 

Once everything’s been wrapped up and gone over and the finalities are double-checked, they can finally go down to the reception hall to eat some well-deserved food. It’s close friends and family only tonight, which is even better. Yesterday pretty much everyone on the guest list had filtered in and out of the house through the course of the night.  Not that Dean doesn’t like to socialize, far from it. His found family is his happy place. 

The one thing that’s kind of ruining it is the fact that he spies Cas in the corner talking to Benny, of all people. Of all people ! Something burns inside of his chest, quickly suppressed to look at exactly never, not knowing what the fuck it’s all about. 

Charlie strides in front of him in her fitted floral-patterned pantsuit, hair swiftly curled into a seemingly effortless updo. She glances back to give him a smile before making her way to the middle of the congregating room. He follows, if only to give the room to the couple of the hour. 

They glide in, arms entangled, all smiles, and Dean couldn’t be more happy for them. Eileen’s wearing form-fitting green silk; a classic double strap dress that flows down to her ankles. Her long brown hair is loosely flowing, one section pulled to the side and fastened with a piece of knotted rope. Sam, the towering giant to his tiny but fierce fiancée, is wearing dark green slacks and a white button up with gold cufflinks. The actual suit is a lot fancier.

He beams at them while they make their way to their assigned seats. Everyone else follows suit and who does Dean end up sitting next to? 

You guessed it, Castiel freaking Novak. 

Those fuckers.

Dean seeks out Charlie from where she’s so meticulously placed away from him and delivers the most annoyed glare he has ever directed towards her. All she does is smile and put her thumbs up encouragingly. Then she signs You got this , as if Dean needs moral support for sitting next to the guy who used to be his best friend in the whole wide world. He’s going to kill Charlie, then Eileen, and then Sam. Those fucking fuckers . 

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t know about this,” says Cas, clearing his throat. 

Dean gulps. Is he really that obvious? 

“They uh, they said they had the guest list handled,” he tries to explain, face burning red.

“It’s only the rehearsal dinner. I can always ask Charlie to move my seat,” Cas offers, already rising from his seat. 

Of course , Cas would want to be as far away from him as possible. God, even being near Dean has probably made him so uncomfortable! 

“No, it’s fine!” he blurts out because Dean is stupid. Suddenly, he’s thirteen again, asking Cas if he can stay the night because he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Cas freezes in place, slowly backing down into his seat. “Are you sure?” 

Dean gapes open-mouthed because there is no way someone should look that attractive when bouncing in and out of their seat looking awkward as hell. Except no one is giving them the time of day, too preoccupied with themselves as well as the happy couple. Cas is wearing a fucking tan vest with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up of all things. As if Dean really needed another reason to shoot himself in the foot for even being near him ! Some sick god must be laughing at his demise right now. All he wants to do is cry his regrets, scream at him that he loves him, or drag him from the party to kiss him filthy and do all of the above. 

Fuck, he’s already fantasizing and they haven’t had more than three conversations with each other. 

As soon as Dean learned that Cas was coming to the wedding a week ago, when he arrived , he'd been pacing a hole into the floor of the guest room, trying to find a way to just… say something before the wedding came. But of course, he was pulled away doing five million different things and his time was spent either at the town hall, or his dad’s house. 

“Yeah, man, don’t worry about it,” he says nervously, biting his lip to prevent him from saying another stupid thing. 

Cas rests the palm of his hands on his matching tan pants, rubbing them gently. Dean pretends not to notice. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean blinks, shocked that Cas is thinking that he’s uncomfortable and not the other way around. “You’re not.”

“Oh,” says Cas. “Okay.” 

The silence between them is deafening. 

To combat the awkwardness Dean makes conversation with Kevin, who’s found his way to their table. It’s kind of a dick move but it’s a way to avoid talking to Cas. The situation relieves itself even more as the catered food comes quickly after that. It’s not the Roadhouse (which will be at the wedding reception), but it’s still amazing. Eileen picked this awesome place just outside of town and boy, it did not disappoint. They’ve decided to go with steak with colcannon potatoes and it’s as delicious as it looks. 

He swears Cas looks at him when he makes a particularly lewd noise around his fork, and Dean pointedly ignores the fact that he started it. 

Everything goes well until it’s time for speeches. It’s mostly friends and family so it’s totally low key but damn is it ever nerve-racking. Eileen’s parents are teary-eyed through their speeches and it’s very sweet and heart-warming. Dad stumbles his way through his own, but he ends with a proud statement and really that’s all he needs to do. 

Charlie stands up to give her Maid of Honour speech, expressing her joy and affection to both Sam and Eileen, who’ve given her a family through her darkest times and who’ve always been supportive for everyone around them. And yes, Dean starts crying before she can deliver a funny anecdote. 

Now it’s his turn. He wipes his face to seem more presentable, and to not look like he was crying in front of his dad. Some things never change. 

“First of all, thank you everyone for coming,” he starts, his hands shaking. “I can't begin to tell you all how happy I am that Sam and Eileen have so many of you they can celebrate their union with.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve practically raised Sam since he was born. Dad always said to look after my baby brother and that’s what I did. I looked after him. Took him to every soccer game, put a bandaid over every scraped knee, was a shoulder to cry on over every girl that broke his heart, and supported him through all his years at Stanford. He’s got someone to look after him, now, too. Eileen,” he turns directly towards her. 

He wants to sign this part even if she has her hearing aids in. This is all for her. “ I know you’ll take care of him the way I did, and still do. You’re his rock, his island, and he needs you to keep his head in check. I know he reaches for the stars because he’s so tall but you gotta bring him down to earth. And just know you’ll never have a more caring, attentive, and loving partner to call your husband. Congratulations, you two. ” I love you . If he starts crying by the time he’s finished, so that he has to sign that last part silently, no one judges him. No one says a word. A moment of silence falls in the room before everyone bursts into applause. Sam, the big baby, gives him a teary puppy-eyes smile and Eileen blows him a wet kiss. 

It’s Sappy Town central over here. There’s not a dry eye in sight. 

Dean clears his throat, swaying his hands by his sides. “Let’s see if anyone can top that,” he jokes, and almost everyone laughs. 

“Dean, get your ass over here!” Sam calls. Dean crosses the threshold to their table and gets crushed by his brother’s arms. “You’re the best brother anyone could ask for. I love you too, jerk.” 

“Bitch.” 

Once Sam releases him, Eileen’s the next to pull him in for a hug and then places two wet kisses on his cheeks. He’s back to grinning at this point and sits back down. Cas, who hasn’t said a word since that awkward conversation, leans in close to Dean’s ear. 

“That was a beautiful speech, Dean.” 

And Dean shivers, licking his lips nervously. “Thanks, Cas.” 

Jesus Christ, he can’t even bring himself to look at him right now, especially since in his peripheral, Cas gets up himself like he’s going to make his own speech. Oh, fuck. He is making a speech. 

“Most of you probably don’t recognize me,” Cas starts, taking out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it with shaking hands. “My name is Castiel Novak and it’s been fifteen years since I’ve been back here. I won't pretend here and say I know all of you, but I do know Sam and Eileen. Sam is one of my closest friends and I’m glad to have gotten to know him further than Dean’s annoying little brother who always tried to tag along on our adventures. I regret not keeping in touch these past few years but I am infinitely grateful I get to witness such a special milestone in their relationship. Eileen was someone I met at Stanford. I actually introduced the two, believe it or not. Eileen was my classmate in our ASL class and Sam came stumbling in his pre-law boots and optimism that shocked me a bit to my core because I hadn’t seen him since I left Lazarus.”

Cas pauses here, taking a moment to breathe shakily. Is he… nervous? “ We ended up having a lot more in common than I thought and the three of us became best friends. We… went through a lot together. They never asked why I left this town without saying goodbye, they never judged me for… who I am, who I like. My identity. They are genuinely two of the greatest people I have ever known. These two bring out the best in each other in a way that makes all other love seem small. Their love is one I aspire to have. It is rare, it is bold, it is beautiful.” 

Dean is shocked. What Cas is saying… it resonates, it hurts .

“Sam, Eileen,” Cas continues, throat thick with tears. “Nurture that love, embrace it. Be there for each other. And know that people are here to support you through it all, separately and together as one. Congratulations, my friends.”

Fuck, Dean can’t take it anymore. It’s too much for him. All the pain he’s caused Cas… all the pain he’s repressed deep inside, it’s all too much. But he doesn’t want to cause a scene. Not while it’s someone else’s moment. So he bites his tongue as much as he can until everyone is distracted. He’s heard all the speeches he needed to hear, the dinner’s almost over. He can leave. But what about Sam? Charlie catches his desperate eyes and waves him away, a silent assurance that she’s got it handled. Forever grateful for her, he slips out of the hall and out the doors, the tears flowing freely. 

The Impala roars to life and he just drives, with no thought in mind except to get away. To go somewhere safe. Like the Barn. Yes, that’s it, the Barn. That’s his destination. That’s one place he always feels safe. The night Cas left, Dean slept on the bare wood floors for days. He didn’t leave that place, not once, hoping that Cas might come back so that Dean could apologize if nothing else. But he never got a chance. He couldn’t muster up the courage to even seek him out. But… he was just so angry about it all. Because how could Cas tell him something like that? 

That kind of stuff wasn’t talked about, wasn’t mentioned aside from snide and snarky comments. In a small town like theirs, it was a sin . Dean was never a church guy but the connotation was there. His dad didn’t help at all, either. 

He pulls up to the Barn before his brain even registers he’s there. He’s on autopilot, shutting off the engine and getting out of the car, shuffling his way into the worn-down wood building. These past fifteen years, every time he comes down here for vacation or back home from KU, he tries to patch up the falling features of the barn. He’ll take out any rotting wood and replace it, trying to keep it as authentic as possible. He takes care of this place and it takes care of him.

Just like it always has, it’ll take care of him tonight. His tears have been dry long enough to let his skin dry so he just feels numb as he runs his fingers over the walls. The texture grounds him some, at least for a little while until his body starts to collapse and he sinks down to the floor, his back against the wall, head against his hands. 

There’s no telling how long he sits there before he hears the doors creak open and a tentative “Dean?” calling out. Dean looks up from his knees and sees Castiel standing there, the moonlight creaking through the cracks giving him an eerie glow. If Cas would tilt his head just so, there would be a halo. Pretty fitting, honestly. 

“Dean,” Cas says again, somewhat relieved. “I thought I’d find you here.” He sighs, as if Dean’s a small child who ran away to hide. 

And like a child, Dean says nothing –  only stares back at the man whose world he shattered so long ago. 

“Are you okay?” Nothing. “Can I sit down?” Still nothing. His mouth refuses to open. 

Cas sits down beside him anyway, as if Dean needs to give him fucking permission. They sit in silence for a long time. It’s… comforting, familiar. When Dean would go on these non-verbal episodes of unchecked and unprocessed emotions, Cas would say nothing,  just sit beside him in silence, if only to give him the illusion that he wasn’t alone. Dean hasn’t had one of these in a very long time. 

“I have a feeling my speech upset you,” he says after a moment. Dean’s eyes glance up to see Cas with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the wall. His arms rest atop his knees from where he’s drawn them into his chest. 

Gee, what gave it away? He wants to say, but nothing comes out once again. 

“Obviously, that was never my intention but it seems speaking my truth strikes a chord with you,” Cas continues, his voice growing bitter. “I struggle sometimes to play back that night. How angry you made me, how betrayed I was by you. Of course, memory is fickle but something I didn’t notice, or wanted to notice, was your body language. How you can express so much without saying a word. Kind of like you are now,” he chuckles softly. 

Dean shifts in place. Cas is right on every fucking mark and it’s making him angry. Still, he says nothing. 

“I know you’re angry.” 

Jesus, is this guy psychic or something?

“I know whatever happened between us can’t be fixed in a night. You… genuinely hurt me, Dean. And I don’t want to let your… prejudice stop me from being who I am. I won’t let it. Not again. And I don’t know if you're at that stage in your life where me being me doesn’t piss you off but you running off tonight just goes to show to me that you either haven’t changed or you can’t stand me being here. And I don’t know which is worse.” 

Woah. That was a bomb and a half. Not the part where Dean hurt him. That’s something very true and something he’s always reminded of. But prejudice? Can’t stand Cas being there? Now that’s where he’s wrong. 

“So you’ve figured me out, then?” Dean croaks out, uncurling his limbs from himself. “You know everything about me now based on what, three conversations and me walking out on a speech that hit me harder than my dad?”

Bad joke, Dean. Reel it in.

“Real nice of you to make a joke like that, considering that I knew and didn’t say a word,” Cas bites back, mirroring Dean’s movements, except edging further away from him.

“The point still stands. You don’t know a single fucking thing about me, Cas. It’s been fifteen goddamn years and I am doing just fine , thank you for asking!” 

Cas stands up abruptly, crossing the room to stand in front of Dean, his eyes hard and mouth set in a thin line. If looks could kill, Dean would be smote on the spot. 

“Oh, and how was I supposed to know that?” Cas bursts. “Let’s not forget that you didn’t say a single fucking word this entire time! The ball was in your court, Dean! Or did you not get that memo based on the way you tore my heart out and shattered it into a million pieces!” 

Now it’s Dean’s turn to stand up, his hands flailing with his growing anger. “What was I supposed to say, Cas? As far as I knew, you wanted nothing to do with me !”

Cas makes a full-bodied movement of disbelief. “That still doesn’t change the fact that apparently you’ve changed and you didn’t think about, oh, apologizing for what you did since you’re suddenly no longer homophobic?”

“ Homophobic ?!” 

“Yes!” 

“I was repressed!” he cries. “I was living under my dad’s fucking thumb for years ! I regretted saying what I said to you as soon as I said it! But the damage was done! I couldn’t go back from that. And after that look in your eyes, well, I just lost everything.”

Cas scoffs. “Oh, you lost everything? Sure, the all-American boy with the pageant-winning smile lost everything against a traumatized gay boy who just wanted to be accepted? To be loved? To not be seen as some freak, especially by his best friend?”

“Jesus, Cas, connect the fucking dots!” His voice is growing more desperate now, his inner child screaming against his ribcage to just tell him, tell him everything ! “You knew how I was raised, how I saw myself, how I still see myself! How my father’s an obsessed alcoholic bastard who thought I was a pussy if I so much as cried, let alone had feelings for anything other than women! The one who called me a pansy and a fairy and a goddamn fa—” he falters, the word unable to escape. 

“A what, Dean?” Cas snips, crossing his arms. “Say the fucking word.”

“No.”

“Say it, coward.” 

“Oh, I may be a coward but I am not saying that.”

“Why? You had no problem saying it before,” Cas spits, venom spewing out of every word. 

“Because I’m fucking queer!” Dean exclaims, the emotions pouring out in every word. “I’m bisexual! I’m a goddamn product of my environment when it’s an actual loving place!”

Cas is speechless for once, taken aback by everything. And for good measure, Dean says the one thing he’s always wanted to say since he discovered himself. 

“For fuck’s sake! Castiel James Novak, I love you!”

Shock spreads over Cas’ beautiful illuminated face. 

“I love you!” Dean drifts closer to that man. That man who’s haunted his dreams, his relationships, his every thoughts. That man who’s caused him so much grief over the possibility of never being able to see him again, of that man who would probably find the love he deserves, of that man who is happy without him. 

There’s still no response from Cas and so Dean edges closer, practically pressed right up against him, and cradles his face in his hands. Cas doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, he just stares. 

“I love you,” Dean whispers one more time. And then Cas bridges the gap between their mouths and crashes them together, his hands grasping Dean’s head to bring him closer. And oh, God, does it feel glorious. 

Kissing Cas feels like backyard fireworks, like a crackling bonfire, like coming home . Not the place where he lived in fear, but home like this very barn, and a pair of sleeping bags. Their lips move of their own accord, sliding and slipping against each other, breaths caught in between as they try to press closer and closer against each other. There’s definitely tears falling from both of them, moaning their desires in guttural and desperate sighs.

***

Dean feels himself getting hard the more he presses his body against Cas’, their groins shifting together in glorious friction. It’s intoxicating and crazy and oh, God, is this really happening? Cas just keeps kissing him like it’s breathing and Dean is so down for the ride. Should they talk about this? They should talk about this. But then Cas pins him against the wall and grinds and all thoughts fly out the window.

Dean’s head throws itself back, releasing his mouth from their lip lock but then Cas just keeps going, mouthing at his neck and groaning like he’s been in the desert for years and finally found an oasis. Dean grips the back of his headand holds it there, his fingers tangling in the soft mop of black hair. It’s still as soft as he remembers.

“Cas,” he gasps out, getting harder by the second. 

“Dean,” the other mumbles against his skin, his hands roaming everywhere, and they catch where Dean’s dress shirt is tucked in, pulling it up to slide his hands all over the expanse of Dean’s stomach. 

“Cas, I need—,” he whines. 

“I know, me too,” Cas groans, pushing into him harder.

They rut against each other like two horny teenagers desperate for friction, groaning and grunting like animals. Their kisses are desperate, hungry, yet loving all at once. Dean tugs on Cas’ hair while Cas grabs his waist, teeth clacking against each other. 

It isn’t long before Dean comes in his pants, embarrassingly so. It helps that Cas comes just as quickly after, the endorphins rushing down in a blissful afterglow. They stay kissing for just a little longer, if only to chase the feeling. 

***

Cas pulls away and Dean almost whines from the loss of contact. He wants to keep them in this moment together, sheltered away from the world. But they really need to talk about what just happened. Like, there’s no way they can avoid this. 

Dean breaks the ice by clearing his throat. “Um, that was something.” 

Cas flushes red, all debauched and kiss-swollen with his hair even more mussed than before. “Yes,” he says breathlessly. “My apologies. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Well, it’s not like I was trying to stop you.” 

“We should’ve… talked this out like adults.” 

“We should’ve, yeah,” Dean agrees, and licks his stinging lips, craving more. “We can do it now.” 

“Yes, that would be wise.” And Cas casts his eyes down in… maybe embarrassment? Shame? Regret? 

“Um, so you don’t actually hate me,” Dean starts, trying to get the rest of his thoughts out. But really, how can you think after something like that ? “That’s—honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to be so nice to me. I really thought you were just being civil.” 

“Civil,” Cas says, like the word is foreign to him. “Dean, in what world would I hate you? You were my best friend. You broke my heart but I could never hate you.” His stupid blue eyes are so soft and genuine and Dean wants to cry again. 

He’s been doing a lot of that, lately, hasn’t he? 

“I don’t hate you either, Cas.” Dean says quietly. “I said a lot of things I regret that night, and I know they are inexcusable, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

Silence echoes in the room. Cas doesn’t say anything, his mouth turned down and his arms crossed over one another. Ah, Dean is familiar with this stance. It’s Cas’ thinking stance. So many things keep coming up that are so Cas that the nostalgia hits hard. Dean didn’t realize the extent of how much he missed him.

“I want you,” Cas croaks. “God, I want you more than anything but… how would we even make this work? I don’t know you besides what I know from when we were kids. I don’t want us making promises we can’t keep.” He looks pained to be saying all this stuff but he’s right. 

“So what should we do?” asks Dean. 

“Why don’t we figure it out after the wedding?” 

Chapter Text

Cas — The Wedding 

The taste of Dean still lingers on his lips, even after they parted ways in their respective cars. It takes nearly all of his willpower not to pull over, flag Dean down, and make out with him again. But he has to get home and think this over. Because what the fuck. 

What the fuck was that. 

Not even mentioning the huge fight they had before they decided to go ham like a couple of desperate lovers, or the way they couldn’t even spend a whole five minutes talking about it because they were too high on endorphins to really think this through. 

And the fact that his speech made Dean cry and leave the dinner hall. In front of Sam and Eileen and everyone! He feels so bad about it now, about how he rushed out once he noticed Dean was gone. 

It was a miracle he even found him at the Barn. He doesn’t think he knows Dean but hey, a Hail Mary can work sometimes. Dean taught him that sports term. 

Dean, Dean, Dean. Always fucking Dean! 

And to find out he loves him back? Unbelievable . 

His parents are already asleep by the time he gets back to their place. There’s just something so relieving about knowing they won’t ask questions right after everything happened. In the morning, he’ll be better for it. But for now, processing. 

Once every article of clothing is shucked off and replaced with comfy cotton, Castiel pulls out his phone for the first time that evening. There’s only two texts, one each from Balthazar and Meg, wishing him luck on his speech. Ha, if only they knew. 

Well, they should know. They are his friends after all. Is it too late to call them both? Probably not. Although Meg might be busy. 

He scrolls through his messages to get to their dry, underused group chat (they prefer to be one on one) and he hits the video call button. While he waits for them to pick up, he tries to make himself look presentable but there’s no mistaking his kiss-swollen lips and untameable hair. His whole appearance is just a giant neon sign that screams I just had sex ! 

Bal picks up on the third or fourth ring, looking debauched. “Cassie, if you butt dialed us again, I’m going to be pissed. It is one in the morning.” 

“This can’t wait until later.” 

“Well, it better be important,” he grumbles, shushing the partner in his bed before heading out to his office. “Are we waiting for Meg?” 

“I’ll give her a few moments.” 

Lo and behold, Meg Masters appears in the video call group. She’s smiling devilishly like she knew something was coming. Honestly, Cas wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Castiel Novak calling at ungodly hours,” she drawls. “What scandal have you gotten yourself involved in?” 

No time like the present. Castiel takes a deep breath and blurts out. “I had sex with Dean Winchester.” 

Both Meg and Bal crow with glee. 

“Who bottomed? I bet it was Dean,” Bal teases.

Cas sighs. “We didn’t actually… do anything penetrative.” 

“Was it good at least?” asks Meg, who looks like she ate the canary. 

“Yes,” Cas admits, blushing slightly. “Despite it being over every single layer of clothing.” 

“A little frottage, then,” Bal states, with an absolutely delighted expression. “Well done.” 

“If you want to call it that, then yes.” 

“So what happened before all that?” asks Meg. 

“Yes!” Bal exclaims. “Was there a grand gesture of romance?” 

“Sort of? We argued and then he… told me loves me.” Cas still can’t believe it even saying the words out loud. It feels weird to have something he’s always hoped for for so long, that just seemed so out of reach. “And then I kissed him.” 

Meg chortles. “You sly dog, Clarence.” 

“Yes, well,” he chuckles. “That’s enough spontaneity for me right now. I’m dead tired.” 

His two friends hum in unison.

“Well, thank you for the update, Cassie,” yawns Bal. “We expect to hear more details about your Dean situation if it escalates. Ta, ta, darling!”

“What Bal said,” says Meg. “Crowley’s already blowing up my texts. Talk soon, bestie.” 

Cas is left alone with the silence of the night. Despite his brain going five miles a minute, he’s actually feeling quite calm and relaxed. Probably due to the post-orgasm endorphins. He wants to scream but that would be kind of strange for his parents to wake up to. 

At least the wedding isn’t till later in the afternoon. He’ll have a bit of time to make sure he doesn’t look like an absolute zombie before he’s expected to be there. So he attempts to sleep, but it’s restless and when he wakes up, his covers are tangled in his legs and his face feels like it got squished by an overenthusiastic cat.

When he stumbles down for breakfast, his parents are already up and cooking. It’s their Sunday morning tradition, after all. He honestly missed this, the last time was when he had them over for Christmas in New York. He thinks about taking Dean there. 

“Good morning, Castiel,” greets his mother, playing Sudoku on her phone. “How was dinner?” 

“It was… good,” he says dismissively, sitting beside her on the kitchen island stools. “The food was delicious. Lots of nice speeches.”

“How were Sam and Eileen? They’re positively adorable,” she coos. “They’re going to make such beautiful children.”

Ignoring the weird comment, Cas tries not to let his emotions bleed through. “They’re good. Happy. I’m glad they found happiness with each other.”

“And what about you?” his mother prods. Oh, here it comes. 

“What about me?” he mutters, immediately filling his plate with food. So much for avoiding another lecture. 

His mother sets her phone down, her hands clasping together like she’s scolding a student. “When are you going to settle down? Find a nice girl. You’re nearly thirty-four, Castiel.” 

God, this conversation again. He nearly rolls his eyes in irritation. “I told you, I’m focusing on my work right now.”

“And how long will that take? You can’t just throw your life away at work.” 

“Why is it so important that I settle down and have children? Why can’t I just be happy and successful as a single man?”

Naomi huffs. “It just is. We’ve taken care of you and supported you thus far. Shouldn’t we get something in return?” 

Cas sighs deeply, mustering up the strength to set a boundary with his mother. He knows his father won’t say anything because he agrees with her on nearly everything. “Mother, I don’t want kids right now. I don’t know if I want them at all. I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

She is clearly not relenting. “What about a wife? I’m just looking out for you! It’s no good being alone! Look, I have this wonderful girl who’s just dying to meet you. Her name is Daphne and she’d make a wonderful bride, just look at her picture.”

Castiel just takes it all with as much grace as he can muster but the final straw is going to be his mother setting him up with some girl he won’t even be attracted to. He’s really going to have to do it, isn’t he? 

“I don’t need your matchmaking. I can find a partner just fine.” 

His mother raises her eyebrows in mock interest. “Oh, can you? Then where is she? Are you hiding her away?” 

“That’s not the point,” he presses. “I don’t need you to meddle in my love life.” 

“Then why is it taking you so long?”  

“Because I’m in love with someone who I was pretty sure didn’t love me back until last night!” he bursts out, slapping his palms against the table, rattling the cutlery. 

His parents are quiet and Castiel shoves more scrambled eggs into his mouth. So much for keeping it low key. He’s shaking, his whole body on vibrate mode. This was not something he wanted to have a conversation about until he was ready. God, he’s 33 years old and he wasn’t even ready to come out yet.  

Naomi presses her lips into a thin line, clearly at a loss for words. His father just keeps buttering the piece of bread in his hand at a steady pace, almost boring a hole into it.

“Do we know this person?” asks Naomi, her voice quiet. 

“Yes.” 

“What’s her name? I’m sorry you’ve been hurting so much about this. Is she why you’ve been avoiding coming here? Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” 

Castiel doesn’t answer for a while. Does he lie and give a fake name? No, he confirmed they know. He really really can’t avoid this now. This has to happen. Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

“It’s Dean.” 

“Winchester?” his father asks curiously, the first he’s spoken in this whole conversation. 

“The one and only,” he tries to joke but it falls flat. “I’m gay.” 

Silence befalls the house. Even Enoch ceases pacing a hole into the floor, begging for food from their table. Cas’ heart pounds in his chest, his palms sweaty and fingers twitching. 

“… Are you sure you’re gay?” Naomi asks after a moment, clearly in denial. So much for her vision of 2.5 kids and a trophy wife hanging off his arm. 

“I’ve been sure of it since I was sixteen, Mom,” he answers automatically.  

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He sighs deeply. Here he goes . “Plenty of reasons. One of them was because of the church. Another was because you both have said some horrible things about my community. I didn’t feel safe.” 

Naomi scoffs, and the wall around his heart hardens. “Well, we’re past that now. We support you.”

“Do you?” he snips, bitterness bleeding through his tone. 

His mother splutters through a response.“Of course! You’re our only son! Our miracle child. It’s only fair we support you. We just want you to be happy.”

Aside from the fact of how backhanded that feels, it feels good to let it off his chest. This secret he’s carried for so long has been revealed and now? Now it feels weird for his mother to say something like that. It feels… unfulfilling. He’s happy for their support, sure, but it doesn’t feel right. He should tell his therapist about it. 

Right now, all he can do is shove his emotions deep deep down and make it work. Since his parents are attending the ceremony as well, he’ll be riding with them to save gas on his rental car. Another small reason is that he doesn’t want to embarrass Sam or Dean anymore than he has to with his “crappy” car. 

They finish breakfast and Cas cleans up, a pit heavy in his stomach. It’s quiet once more between him and his parents. He doesn’t want to feel sad about him coming out but there’s a part of him that wishes it was more; that his parents would fight back or they would be more supportive. Quite honestly, he doesn’t know how to move on and be normal about this. 

How can he? 

His head is numb by the time he goes to his room to get ready for later. He wants to be punctual enough so he can drop off his gift from their registry. It’s one of the more expensive ones and he doesn’t want to have any protest from Sam or Eileen, despite his insistence of being more than happy to pay for part of the wedding. He comes from a rich family and he’s an accountant for one of the biggest marketing firms in New York. 

After a quick snack and more taming of his hair than he’d like to admit, Castiel is in proper gear for the wedding. The gift has been transferred from his car to his parent’s and he cradles it in the backseat as they drive to the venue. His mind wanders to what Dean’s wearing. How beautiful he’d look in those green and gold colours, vibrant and bold. 

Familiar now with the layout, and pleased at how early they are, Cas slips in (mostly) undetected to put his gift on the table of ‘last-minute’ things. He double-checks that the card is nestled in between the wrapping and then leaves it alone. 

Now to… try to mingle with the rest of the guests, find his assigned seating, and maybe retreat to the back of the room to text Bal and/or Meg. Really all he can do now is wait. 

It isn’t long before more people start trickling in and taking their seats. Someone, presumably the DJ, takes their spot behind the booth and starts playing some generic jazz music to fill the space. Cas checks his watch. It’ll be another half hour or so before the ceremony begins so he takes his seat beside his parents. His mother whispers in his ear about various people she thinks are wearing garish outfits as if she’s expecting Castiel to say something about it. Cas frowns, confused.

His father, on the other side of him, said he was going to look out for Dean and give him a ‘talk’. Well, call Castiel surprised because where was this support when he needed it at sixteen? Albeit it’s a little strange in nature but… beggars can’t be choosers. 

Oh well, no time to think about that right now because here come the groomsmen and oh, Lord have mercy on his soul . Dean Winchester is a vision in green and gold flanked by the matching groomsmen. His dark green pants hug his thighs and elevate his… ahem, assets . He’s also wearing a white dress shirt with a matching dark green vest, and settled on his neck is a beautiful forest-green tie with the markings of what looks like a tree. Cas is close enough to the front that he can see those details, which he’s embarrassingly grateful for. 

Dean somehow finds him among the crowd and winks at him. Winks ! Castiel’s heart pounds in his chest and despite it, he gives a small smile in return to which Dean beams in response. Oh, how he missed that million dollar smile. There are so many thoughts running through his mind about how much he longs to be right next to Dean at their own wedding and—

Woah . Calm down, Castiel . You’re not there yet . 

Yet? As if they’ve already started dating! All they did was argue and have some… really satisfying grinding but they didn’t say anything about dating . There’s a promise to figure it out after the wedding but might that even happen?

He’s so distracted and flustered that he doesn’t even notice that the bridesmaids and Sam have made their way down the aisle. His eyes move to Sam, who looks extremely nervous and he offers a thumbs up of encouragement. Sam notices and grins, looking a bit more relaxed but with the way his hands are wringing together, it’s not doing much. His suit looks smart and well put-together; dark green slacks cover his long legs and he’s wearing almost the same as Dean is wearing at the top; a white button up with a dark green vest. The only difference is that Sam has ribbons tied into his hair and his cufflinks have bells attached to them. The bridesmaids look gorgeous, as they should, donning beautiful green dresses of differing shades with gold accents. 

The procession music begins to play, and it’s a beautiful piano rendition of Lover by Taylor Swift. It’s cheesy, sure, but Cas’ heart is immediately warmed since he did introduce both Sam and Eileen to this masterpiece of a singer/songwriter. Everyone in the room stands at attention, marveling at Eileen, who’s accompanied by both her parents. Charlie is behind her, holding the train of a lovely green dress that flows around her body. But the real showstopper is Eileen. She’s in a stunning, A-line, white dress with green accents woven into the celtic symbols in the lace. Pops of gold are flecked throughout the tulle and the bodice is snug against her chest. Instead of a veil, her hair is adorned in ribbons and little flowers. Her bouquet is lush and grand, and Cas can faintly hear little bells as she walks. 

They’ve pulled out all the stops and Castiel feels the threat of tears well up in his eyes. He can already hear the sniffles in the crowd and he turns his head to Sam, whose nervousness has disappeared, only to be replaced by a huge smile and watery eyes full of love for this wonderful woman. 

Cas’ eyes move to Dean, who looks like he couldn’t be prouder of his brother. It’s a really lovely thing to see family gathered together to witness love in one of its purest forms. 

The ceremony is amazing. Their officiant signs and speaks as she recites the usual spiel along the lines of asking if there’s any objections, and welcoming everyone that is here to witness their union. Sam and Eileen have already prepared their own vows and oh, boy, Castiel is definitely going to cry. 

Sam begins by clearing his throat, his voice thick with tears. “ I think I speak for everyone when I say what a wonderful person you are, Eileen ,” he starts, signing and speaking at the same time. “ You have brought so much joy to not only my life but to the lives of everyone we hold dear. You are my rock, my island, my soulmate. I promise to hold you and care for you just as I have been, and more. You deserve everything good life has to give you and I want to be there to witness it. I will stand by you through every up and down and every grumpy day where you get sick of my face. I will support you and defend you and be right by your side through every moment life takes us. I love you, Eileen, and I am honoured to spend forever with you .” 

Naomi hands Cas a tissue, who graciously takes it, dabbing off his wet cheeks. Because he’s stupid, he looks to Dean, who is also crying, patting Sam on the shoulder. Everyone in the room is a mess, and they haven’t even gotten to Eileen’s vows. Not to mention, there will be more speeches to come for the reception. 

Now it’s Eileen’s turn. “ How can I top that ?” she jokes, her speech muddled but Cas catches Charlie behind Eileen signing something that looks like Peg him , and he snorts, quickly recovering to hear the rest of Eileen’s speech. 

“ Sam, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me, how grateful I am that you’ve unknowingly opened my world to so many possibilities with you. You’ve inspired me to follow my passions, to let myself be loved by you. You’ve always made an effort to create an easier world for me and for that, I will always be grateful. Forever with you means stealing your coffee in the morning, holding you close to me whenever I can, and creating moments with you and the family we’ve combined. I love you, Sam Winchester. Thank you. ” 

If Eileen thought she wouldn’t top Sam’s speech, well she definitely has. The officiant stood in the corner smiling wide and bright and now gets back to them under the arch and claps her hands together. “ Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that you may now pronounce yourselves husband and wife .” 

Taking that as their cue, Sam pulls Eileen close and leans down to kiss her soundly on the mouth. Eileen grabs his face with her hands, the two of them pushing and pulling into each other without making it look too scandalous. They’re perfect for each other. Once pulled apart, the officiant brings them their rings and the couple, with shaking hands, puts them on each other’s fingers. Then she grabs rope and ties their wrists together in a traditional Irish wedding knot. With their hands clasped together, Sam and Eileen take their first steps together as a married couple. Cheers are loud and boisterous in the room, congratulating them with all their might. Castiel manages to catch their eyes and they smile wide, miming their thanks to him as they stumble down the aisle. Everyone watches them happily walk out of the room, and once the doors close behind them, Cas takes this opportunity to glance over at Dean, who’s staring right back at him. 

“Hey,” Dean’s mouth forms. “I love you.” 

Oh. Oh . 

Fuck. 

Without even thinking about it, Cas’ mouth forms the words “I love you, too.” And Dean blushes red, smiling. 

They’re so stupid . 

What is Castiel to do now that he has begun to fall for Dean Winchester all over again?

Once everyone’s calmed down, the officiant instructs everyone to head out of the reception hall for cocktails and hors d’œuvres while the couple’s pictures are taken. Cas slinks out, leaving his parents to enjoy their nibbles while he takes a much needed breath of fresh air. The heat of summer beams down on him and he soaks it up as much as he can, despite his pale skin’s tendency to burn. His eyes flutter shut, his head tilted to the sky. 

What happened back there was a moment of weakness and tenderness and Cas was a fool to fall for it. Because despite what happened last night, Cas can’t fully accept that Dean actually loves him. It’s surreal and awkward and he wants to pinch himself to get out of this nightmare. In all honesty, he’s terrified because what if Dean’s wrong? What if they get to know each other only to find out they’re not compatible? 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a soothing voice asks. Cas opens his eyes to see Eileen in front of him with her arms crossed. She’s even more beautiful up close, her cheeks flushed with the glow of marriage. 

“Nothing to concern yourself about,” he sighs fondly. “Shouldn’t you be taking pictures?”

Eileen shrugs, settling beside him to lean against the wall. “I need a break. My feet are killing me.” To further her point, she flings off her shoes and spreads her toes in the grass, sighing in relief. 

“Fair enough,” Cas chuckles, grateful that Eileen doesn’t press him for more. He’s always admired that about her. She seems to always know the right balance for potential intense conversations. 

“Can you do me a favour, Castiel?” she asks, and his head turns to look at her, his eyebrows raising in agreement. “There’s a few boxes of drinks that need to be brought into the reception hall. Can you help the caterers? They’re down a couple people and our photo session’s done in an hour.”

Surprised that he’s being entrusted with such a task, Cas agrees, happy for the break from the wedding guests who will no doubt try to pull him into another dull conversation about the couple, and/or who he is, and/or what he’s been doing since he left Lazarus. 

Once he’s made it to the back of the building, he sees a flustered caterer trying his hardest to haul boxes of drinks. He’d ask where Ellen is but he’s sure that she’s busy and he doesn’t think she’s providing any of the drinks, if the open bar has anything to say about it. 

The caterer graciously accepts his help and Castiel finds himself hauling boxes back and forth into the reception hall. Several people greet him and try to talk to him but falter once they see the heavy boxes in his arms. 

It’s only once they’re halfway through that he sees Dean again, his brow furrowed and expression lost. Once he spots Cas, all concern on his face flies out the window. 

“You need help at all?” he asks, breathless. Cas’ heart skips a beat. 

“There’s more boxes in the back,” he grunts in reply. “Bring them to the bar.” 

They fall into a sort of rhythm, except every time they think they’re close to finishing, Dean tries to get Cas to talk about last night. Cas brushes him off every time, looking for something else to do, as Dean just follows like a lost puppy. Cas is beginning to find it irritating. 

It’s stupid how they’re both sat at the same table considering how much Castiel does not want to talk about last night right now. He slightly regrets not asking Charlie to switch seats at the rehearsal dinner. 

“Cas, when are we going to talk about this?” Dean hisses in his ear once they’re seated. Charlie starts speaking in the microphone to thank everyone for coming but to Cas it’s all static in his ears. Dean is like that annoying little mosquito that nudges his ears as he tries to sleep.

“Didn't we agree on after the wedding?” he snaps.

“Well yeah but… I just… What are we, Cas?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, lowering his voice. “I just want to have fun tonight and if that fun happens to be with you, then we can figure it out tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” Dean repeats.

“Tomorrow.” 

Dean — The Reception

Somehow the promise of tomorrow has taken flight into his heart and released five million butterflies. That wasn’t a shut down, despite Dean’s insistence on trying to figure out what the hell they’re doing. 

So why does he feel like he got ditched at the prom? 

Maybe he shouldn’t have expected things to go well so soon. He really hurt Cas back then, and he’s sure it still hurts even now, even with Dean’s confession. He was a little optimistic about the way he thought their relationship was going to go. Cas isn’t Dean; he doesn’t process the same way he does. Dean still has to learn who this man is, and not count on what he knows 17 year old Cas to be like. Dean sure as hell knows that he’s not the same guy he was at 17, either.

So he lets their moment slide because this is Sam and Eileen’s moment. He pulls his focus to Charlie, who’s hyping up the crowd with witty anecdotes and corny jokes until she announces why they’re all here. Sam and Eileen waltz in, their wrists still intertwined with the celtic knot. 

An acoustic version of Simply the Best carries through the space, and Sam and Eileen come together to mark their first dance. Memories of his and Sam’s childhood float through Dean’s mind, pride enveloping him like a warm hug. Dean raised that kid. Not John, not Bobby, Dean . Any other day, he might realize how messed up that is but tonight, in this moment, Dean is Sam’s mother, father, and brother all in one. He watches, misty-eyed, as Sam cradles Eileen in his arms, Eileen’s head on his chest and his chin placed carefully on her head. In the corner, the photographer snaps this candid moment. And when the song ends, the couple pulls apart only to come back together for a sweet kiss.

Dean is the first to cheer and clap, and he gets lost in the sensations of pride and joy and love. He can forget about Cas for just a moment. They’ll deal with each other later. For now, he’ll dance. Come on Eileen starts playing through the speakers and Eileen cackles with glee. Sam has a shit-eating grin on his face. The personalized playlist was Dean’s idea and he rushes to the dance floor, tackling Sam into a hug and tugging Eileen along with him. 

Unlike last night, the food is served buffet style, with a huge assortment of food that can only be recognized as Ellen’s cooking. Her Roadhouse specialties are all laid out and Dean piles his plate as high as it’ll go without breaking the laws of physics. 

Cas is nowhere to be found when he sits down and no, it doesn’t bother him. He totally doesn’t stuff his face either, to drown his feelings. And maybe he’s on his third glass of champagne but it is what it is. He deserves to feel fancy. 

His eyes never leave the dance floor. People come and they go, either staying for one song or five. The speeches keep coming, though. Dean had already said his familiar speech earlier and so did Charlie, now it’s just playful anecdotes and trips down memory lane. Even Bobby manages to say a few gruff words of congratulations. John doesn’t even bother moving from his seat, his expression unreadable. He’s been strategically put furthest away from the bar and Dean made a note to the bartender to not serve him any alcohol. If John asked, he was to replace it with Coke. 

When Dean finally finds Cas again, he looks… tired. Sad, almost. Like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. Is that… because of him? Fuck. 

Well, the least Dean can do is make sure that he has a good time tonight. Even if they never talk again, Dean at least had the chance to say the words he was saving for so long. And just knowing that Cas knows he’s loved, well, that’s enough for Dean, even if it’ll rip his heart to shreds now if this is over. 

His feet move of their own accord, and he finds himself in front of Cas, who looks like he’d rather anyone else bother him. 

“Cas,” he presses, waiting for an acknowledgement. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m the Best Man,” he blurts stupidly. 

Cas frowns, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more pronounced. Dean finds it cute. “Yes, I know. What does that have to do with anything?” 

Dean huffs. “Best man duty is making sure everyone has a good time. And I’m not letting you stand around like some wallflower. Dance with me.” 

“Dean, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Cas, uncertain. 

Dean outstretches his hand, an invitation and a promise. “Just one dance.” 

With reluctance, and his signature eye roll, Cas takes his hand and Dean excitedly leads them to the dance floor. The current song ends and the starting notes of Seventeen by LEON begins to play. 

Cas freezes as if he’s unsure but Dean pulls him close and grounds him. He just needs this moment. That’s it. If Cas needs it too, even better. They start swaying into a slow dance, their arms collected around each other; Dean’s on Cas’ waist and Cas’ on his shoulders. 

Crowd is leaving

I can't hear a thing, mhm

All I'm feeling that I can't seem to say

Wishful thinking you will look my way

I used to get me higher than I have ever been

I know the place is closing but, ooh

One more dance before you go

Just take my hand and hold me close

And I might be higher than I've ever been before

And I can't hold back the way I'm feeling anymore

One more dance before you go

Ooh, dance before you go

Dean couldn’t relate more to the lyrics than at this moment. If he could have just one more dance before Cas goes back to New York, back to his life... A moment later, though, Cas’ head seems to involuntarily land itself in the crook of where Dean’s shoulder meets his neck and all doubts fly out the window. He wishes they were seventeen again, with hope in their eyes and love in their hearts. 

He wishes he could change that night. He wishes he was the person he is now. 

— Lazarus, June 2007 

It started off like any other night in the Barn. Sleeping bags and card games and maybe a little bit of sneaked booze. 

Hey, they just graduated high school! They were entitled to a bit of celebration. And for the first time, they actually drove here. As promised, Dean fixed up his Dad’s 1967 Chevy Impala and she purred like a giant cat as they sped down the road. The windows were rolled down with the wind blowing through their hair, their hearts wild and free. 

Now this , this is what Dean meant by freedom. 

He just hopes that Cas will be there with him. 

Speaking of, Cas seems on edge tonight. He’s not as aloof and dorky and nerdy as he usually is. Dean chalks it up as nerves for their future. University of Kansas - they’re heading to KU! Together . Honestly, Dean is a little shocked Cas is choosing this over freakin’ Stanford of all places just to stay close to Dean. Even with constant reassurance that Cas is happy with his decision, Dean still has that voice in his head that makes him think that Cas could be doing so much better without him. 

Whatever. He needs to shake that feeling off because they’re really doing it! They’re really becoming adults and making their mark in the world. 

Crouched in the corner, there’s Cas, holding the pocketknife he got from Bobby for his 13th birthday digging into the wood of the slowly deteriorating barn walls. Dean leans down to try to see what he’s carving but Cas’ frame blocks it. To Dean, Cas has always been smaller than him, shorter, lankier. But over their senior year, Cas went into track and field and he’s certainly bulked up a bit. Dean will never admit it but he spends a good chunk of time just staring at the planes of Cas’ back through the thin t-shirts he wears. It’s totally not gay, though. 

“I can feel you watching me,” says Cas, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

“I wasn’t watching you!” Dean stutters. Real smooth, Winchester. He recovers quickly, clearing his throat. “What are you carving?”

“Why don’t you wait until I’m done?” Cas bites back, but there’s no anger to his words. 

“Fine, fine,” mumbles Dean, backing away with his arms up. “When you’re done, I wanna play drunk poker.”

“You always wanna play drunk poker!”

“It’s a good game!”

“Which I always lose at! You cheat!” 

“I do not !” he scoffs.

—

Cas actually ends up winning drunk poker for the first time, and not because Dean let him win because he felt bad. But they’re well and truly tipsy now, laughing at the stupidest things they do. It’s familiar and it’s home and Dean wants to freeze the picture so they stay like this forever. 

“I’m going outside,” Cas announces, his breath shaky.

“Okay,” says Dean, blissfully unaware of the way Cas’ fingers twitch, his palms rubbing on his pants. 

“Join me whenever you like,” his best friend says with a sense of urgency. Dean definitely picks up on that. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he groans, hoisting himself up to join Cas outside. 

June still has that spring feel, even if they’ve just started summer. A soft breeze chills them both a little and Dean presses close to capture the warmth they have back in the barn. He wants to go back inside. 

“It’s nice out,” Cas observes quietly. “I’m glad we caught the sunset while driving.”

“Yeah, ‘cept now it’s cold,” Dean complains. “Wanna come back inside?”

“In a bit.” 

Dean grumbles but stays because Cas is being weirdly cryptic—even more so than usual. There’s a nervous energy about him, despite Dean’s thoughts about him just being worried about their future. Dean’s known him this long to know something’s up. 

“You good, Cas?” he asks. 

“Not really,” his friend replies curtly. 

A silent moment passes. 

“You wanna elaborate?” Dean prompts. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” he whispers, and suddenly Dean’s as sober as the day he was born. 

“About what?” he tries to joke. “Cause if it’s school, then you’re gonna be aces at it. I’m sure of it. You’re gonna do awesome and I’ll be there supporting you.”

Cas shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and Dean doesn’t press. Cas’ throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted to the sky as if he’s looking for answers in the stars. Maybe he’s seeking prayer. Dean knows he’s religious so maybe that’s what it is. He’s never seen the appeal, honestly. Religion never made sense to him. But he’d never judge Cas for his beliefs. Hell, Dean believes in pie, rock and roll, and, well, Cas . He believes in Cas, too. 

“Dean, how familiar are you with… um, gay people?” asks Cas finally. That’s a weird question.

“I—um, not very,” he tries. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“Do you… support them?” Cas prompts. “If—if you knew someone was gay, what would be your reaction?”

What? Where the hell is this coming from?

“Cas, come back inside. You’re not thinking straight.” 

Cas lets out a dry laugh, but there’s no joy in its sound. “Right, not thinking straight.”

“Come on, man,” Dean chuckles nervously, grasping Cas’ arm lightly to prompt him back inside. “You’re—you’re obviously drunk. Let’s get you to bed.”

“No.” 

“Then what’s with the questions about gay people?”

“What if I was gay?” Cas asks, braver. Dean refuses to look into his eyes completely but even just knowing those bright blues are on him has him feeling weak in the knees.  

“But… you’re straight,” he deflects. 

“I never was.” 

Daring himself to finally look Cas in the eye, he sees the seriousness bleeding into his expression. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck . No. No, this can’t be happening right now. 

“Quit screwing around, man,” he laughs, backing away and removing his hand from Cas’ arm. John Winchester’s voice echoes around in his skull.

***

Just your luck you manage to find the only faggot in town. What does that make you, Dean? You a faggot, too?

“I’m not screwing around!” Cas insists, his hands clenched by his sides. “Dean, I—I’m gay.” 

“No, you’re not,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You—you can’t be.”

Look at you, Dean! You’re a fucking pansy, a pussy! Be a man and punch that fag in the face like he deserves!

“I am,” Cas argues. “Dean, I’m gay and I lo—”

But Dean gets to him before Cas can say another word. The floodgates open and it’s not Dean Winchester’s voice that comes through. It’s his father’s.

“Fuck you, Cas,” he spits. “You can’t—you can’t say that to me. You know how people talk. I can’t be… associated with someone like you. With a fag—”

***

Cas punches him in the nose, and Dean falls back, clutching his face. He’s not bleeding, thank God but the dull ache and the force of Cas’ knuckles linger. 

Castiel’s beautiful blue eyes are full of tears, but anger blazes through his gaze. “What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be my best friend!” 

“What’s wrong with me ? What’s wrong with you ?” Dean retaliates, anger pouring out of him with the fury of a thousand words of abuse his father has rained down on him. “I didn’t think my best friend would turn out to be some sort of… queer! You’re not like that! You’re not some fashion obsessed skinny kid with a thing for sweater vests and a lisp! You’re Cas !”

“I can’t believe you’re reducing me to a fucking stereotype!” Cas yells. “I’m still me! I just like boys!” 

And if Dean were half the man he is fifteen years from now, he’d see that Cas is pleading, begging for an ounce of support. But Dean can’t see it. He’s blinded by rage and the crushing weight of his father’s thumb. 

“Then I guess we can’t be friends anymore,” Dean says coldly, and he regrets it immediately.

There really is something wrong with him.  

The betrayal on his (now, ex) best friend’s face is permanently etched in Dean’s mind. His tears cease as he stares at Dean for a long time. Dean is now registering that he’s lost the best thing he’s ever had in his life, probably forever. This isn’t something he can come back from. Sure, they’ve had fights before but those were childish arguments easily solved by buying the other a comic book or food. They were never like this. 

Cas’ voice is hard when he finally speaks. “Well, then there’s nothing left for me here.” 

Dean doesn’t even recognize him anymore. He’s no longer just Cas. He is Castiel James Novak, with a future well beyond what Dean can belong in. In his shock, he just watches Cas collect his things from inside the barn and begin walking away. And Dean doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t run after him. Doesn’t say anything. 

When Cas can no longer be seen in the horizon of Dean’s vision, he goes back to the barn and he crumbles. Where Cas’ sleeping bag used to lay, with its blue honeycomb pattern, is now a big empty space. He filled so many parts of Dean’s life and in turn, Dean feels empty without him. 

Serves you right. You hurt everyone you touch. You’re poison. 

As he lays on his back in his own sleeping bag, he stares at the ceiling, with its high beams and cracked wood bringing the moonlight shining down inside. His eyes follow a specific moon beam to the wall where Cas was carving earlier. He never did get to see what he was carving. It’s faint, and Dean can’t see very well from where he is. He rolls over on his stomach, crawling and when he sees it, his heart aches. He lets the tears he’s been holding in for so long flow and his fingers edge the indents in the wood. 

D + C

Chapter Text

Cas

One more dance turned into two and then into three. All the while he and Dean cling to each other like they’re all they have. And maybe it’s true. Maybe they’re all they have at this point. Sam and Eileen have their own lives to live together and Cas is in New York simply to be as far away from Lazarus as possible.

And now? Now he doesn’t know. 

He can try working remotely, find a new job. But what about Bal and Meg? What about the life he’s carved out for himself from bare bones? He can’t just uproot his life for one man, even if that man is Dean Winchester. 

But he has tonight. And he has the rest of his vacation to figure it out. 

They pull apart from each other for a quick break and while it pains him a little to be apart from Dean, it’s not a good look if they just hog each other all night. But here they are, together, walking to the open bar together. Codependency, who?

Dean orders a whiskey, neat, because of course he does and Cas goes for a Bloody Mary with gin. He’s fancy, sue him. Dean makes just such a comment, Cas brushing him off to sip his salty drink with ease. It’s not the quality he’s used to in New York but it’s still really good. He and Dean return to their table and drink in companionable silence. 

A lot of guests have left already, most of them probably not used to partying in the wee hours of the night, or begging leave with the excuse they have kids and pets to attend to. Really, all those who are left are the lucky couple, Castiel’s parents, the bachelors and bachelorettes, the caterers including Ellen and Jo, Bobby, Charlie, and unfortunately, John. 

John, who he accidentally makes eye contact with, is now moving towards them with a determined gait. He joins them at the bar and singles out the bartender. 

“Whiskey. And none of that weak shit. I want top shelf,” he orders. The bartender sighs low enough to not be heard and serves him a Coke in a whiskey glass. John seems pleased with this until he takes a drink and grimaces. “Bastard,” he mutters, but the bartender is already on the other side of the bar attending to another guest.

Dean bristles, his shirt brushing up against Cas’. “Dad, it’s for your own good,” he reminds him. 

“It’s just one night,” John attempts to argue. “I’m going back to the Gate tomorrow, anyway.”

“Yeah, and who’s taking you? ‘Cause it ain’t me,” Dean scoffs in disbelief. Cas watches them talk like a ping-pong match. 

“Some worker,” he gruffs. “I called them yesterday to grab me since your sorry ass is too busy fuckin’ around.” 

Dean stiffens beside him, and Castiel is ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “Me being the Best Man isn’t fucking around.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You think I didn’t notice you and him?” His eyes round on Castiel with virile contempt. “Being friends with a lesbian is one thing but to find out my son is a fucking queer? Well, let’s just say I didn’t raise a pussy,” he curses, taking another sip of his drink. 

Cas is livid. It is one thing for John to disapprove of Dean associating with Castiel but to insult Charlie and Dean? Now that’s a line that should never be crossed. Dean seems like he’s going to snap back at John but Cas puts an arm out to stop him. Cas is going to do something that Dean would never have the courage to do, but it is necessary. 

With his drink set on the bar counter, he stalks towards John. “With all due respect, sir, what Dean does is none of your business, nor is his sexual orientation. That language doesn’t bode well in this day and age so I suggest you apologize and be grateful your sons are still in your life,” he announces coolly. 

John nostrils flare with discontent. “Now, listen here you little shi—” and he can’t even finish his sentence because Cas delivers a swift punch to his nose, feeling a sickening (but satisfying) crunch under his knuckles. 

Dean makes a noise of disbelief beside him, and John groans loudly in pain. They catch the attention of a few people but either they’re too drunk to care, or those who have known John long enough to simply ignore it. 

“Dad, who’s the worker you called? I think it’s time they come get you now,” says Dean calmly. “Gimme your phone.”

Still clutching his nose, John palms his pocket and gives Dean his unlocked phone. While Dean fiddles with the buttons, Cas reminds John to pinch his nose and look up to keep the blood from flowing. John just growls in response, too in pain to say anything.

Dean heads down the hall to a quieter spot to call ‘the Gate’ as John called it and Cas grabs a tissue to give to John. Well, it’s less of a tissue and more of a napkin he snagged from the bar. Still, John reluctantly takes it and glares at him. Dean comes back and hands John his phone back and quietly directs him to sit down beside Bobby. They talk in hushed tones and Bobby nods and claps Dean on the shoulder. 

Dean returns with a small smile on his face, and he seems relieved. Cas opens his arms a little and Dean falls into them. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he sighs into the crook of his neck. 

“It was no trouble,” he reassures him, rubbing Dean’s back with a gentle stability. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with my dad.” Cas can feel him smile against him. “It was pretty hot, though.”

“Mhm?” Cas rumbles, his fingers sliding upwards to play at the hairs on the base of Dean’s neck. 

“Wanna take you home, Cas.” 

His breath hitches at that, stilling his fingers for just a moment. “We still have to see Sam and Eileen off,” he laughs. 

Dean whines and it awakens something in Castiel’s chest. Fuck. 

“Dean, come on,” he pushes. “They’re watching us.” 

“Ugh, ‘course they are,” Dean mumbles, pushing himself off of and brushing down his vest. His tie is a little askew and without even thinking about it, Cas adjusts it. Dean watches his hands move and the tension is electric.

It’s almost a role-reversal, Cas reminiscent of the way Dean always used to fix his ties before he went to church, when Cas slept over at Dean’s on a Saturday night. Despite being taught numerous times by his best friend and his parents, he’d still somehow manage to have his tie crooked. Of course, he’d never say this out loud to anyone but sometimes he’d purposely tie it wrong so that Dean would fix it anyway. It always left him feeling confident before going into those tall church doors where the crucifix loomed over him with the eyes of Jesus staring into his tortured soul.  

With painful reluctance, Cas pulls away and spins Dean around. “Got get ‘em, cowboy,” he says, and swats Dean’s ass as he goes with a pout. Sam and Eileen are for sure laughing as he heads over there and Sam gets him in a headlock. 

A presence makes itself known beside him. It’s Charlie, and she’s practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Hello, Charlie,” he greets. 

“What was that just now?” she teases.

Cas knows how to play this game. He’s played it with Meg and Bal over basically and literally anything mildly suggestive. 

“We were just talking,” he quips. 

“That looked a lot more than just talking to me.” He then turns to look at her, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. “Look at you, a modern Casanova, Cas.” 

He shrugs, sticking his hand in his pockets. “I’ve had some experience.” Charlie’s eyes go wide, her eyebrows lifting up. Oh, he’s so excited to catch up with her, to fill her in on all the juicy details of the queer New York scene. “You ever been to New York?” he asks, suggestively. 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“You’d really like the queer scene there.” He starts, his regrets pouring out in every word. “I’d love to take you. I’ll pay for everything. I missed you, Charlie, and I want to make it up to you.” 

Charlie seems taken aback, almost shocked. “Cas, I—I don’t know what to say.” 

“Just tell me when you’re planning your next vacation. I mean it.” he looks her dead in the eyes with all the seriousness he can muster. “And,” he sighs, looking down. “If things don’t work with Dean, I don’t want to lose you as a friend again.” 

The woman beside him says nothing, but her face frowns and she pulls him in for a hug. His arms wrap around her tightly, holding her as close as he can. Nope, he’s not going to cry again today. 

“Hey, kids! Time to hit the road!” Dean calls after them. 

Charlie laughs in his ear and pulls away from him, already bouncing off to join the group going to see Sam and Eileen off to their cushy hotel before they head off to Ireland for the next three weeks. Cas follows her and slides into the group and it’s surprising how well he fits among them. Of course, he’s always fit with Sam and Eileen but with everyone else? It’s… nice. It feels like the home he’s always been missing. 

There’s a heavy hand pressing itself on the small of his back and Cas doesn’t need to look to know that it’s Dean. He’s spent the last few hours memorizing the feel of his body, the press of his hands. God knows if he’ll ever get to have it again. 

The whole group says their goodbyes to Sam and Eileen, and while they berate Cas for getting them a wedding gift, they seem happy for it anyway. Once they see what’s inside the letter though, it’s going to be a different story. On that, there’s no way they’d be able to return it. 

Eileen hugs him tightly and thanks him for everything, kissing his wet cheeks. Good luck with Dean , she signs. You deserve happiness . He hugs her again for good measure. 

When it’s Sam’s turn, he’s engulfed in what could be classified as a giant’s hug. “You’re awesome, Cas,” Sam sighs. “Take care of my brother. He needs you more than you know. And you’re allowed to punch him if he starts acting up.” Cas nods, laughing. 

“Get out of here,” he crows, waving them away. Eileen hugs her parents one last time while Sam and Dean embrace each other tightly and exchange words of encouragement. John just gives Sam a pat on the shoulder and really, that’s all he’s allowed to do, at least by Cas’ standards. 

When they get into their limo, Dean walks backwards to join Cas and rests his head on his shoulder. “I’m so proud of him,” he whispers as they watch the car head out onto the street. 

“I’m proud of both of them,” Cas replies, his hand searching for Dean’s, intertwining their fingers. 

A moment of silence passes between them before Dean lifts his head up to look at Cas properly. “Wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes.” 

Dean

Call Dean a romantic because he’s still got game! 

Once John has been picked up by a disgruntled Gate employee who doesn’t look very surprised that John has a bloody napkin sticking out of his broken nose, Cas, who rode in with his parents, is telling them he won’t be going back to the house. Meanwhile, Dean stands outside the Impala to be the perfect gentleman. 

Cas joins him, looking almost nervous. Dean’s nervous too. He doesn’t know if this will turn out. They’re obviously physically compatible and maybe a little bit emotionally but is that it? Dean hopes that isn’t it. He wants more with Cas. He’s had a taste and now he’s insatiable. 

The car door opens with that familiar creak and Dean flourishes a hand to welcome him in the passenger seat. Cas laughs at how corny it is while Dean circles around to slide into the familiar driver’s side. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s driven this old girl. It still gives him chills to hear that wonderful rumble of hers. Cas seems to think so too, by the way Dean catches a grin slowly opening on his face. 

He peels down the street, Led Zeppelin’s Going to California crooning softly. It’s a little on the nose for them especially considering Cas left for California with an aching in his heart. Dean’s fingers twitch on the steering wheel with an unspoken question. Fuck it. 

“Did I ever tell you about how, when I dropped off Sam at Stanford for the first time, I spent the rest of the day looking for you?”

“No, you didn’t,” Cas says softly. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs. “I always looked for you every time I’d come to pick him up and drop him off at every holiday but I never saw you.”

“Oh.” Is all Cas says. “I always kind of hoped you were there but I never had the courage to check.” 

“Guess we’re both a couple of dumbasses.”

Cas laughs in that deep timbre of his. “I prefer the term hopeful. Less dumb, less ass.” 

They pull up to the Winchester house in record time. Well, there’s basically no traffic so it took them the length of their conversation, which is a little shocking considering they could walk, but where’s the fun in that?

“Dean?” calls Cas.

“Yeah?” he perks up, roused out of his train of thought. 

“Are you gonna let us in or are you going to keep having your Fleabag moment?” he teases. 

Dean frowns, but gets out of the car, Cas following him. “What’s a Fleabag moment?”

Cas shakes his head when Dean takes out his keys to unlock the front door. “One day, you need to watch it.” 

Once they’re inside, Cas looks around like he’s seeing it again for the first time. It’s a little adorable to be honest. Dean seeks out Cas’ hand with his own and grasps it firmly, if only to ground him because this could be happening . 

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asks, dipping his head to meet Cas’ eyes, silently asking if he’s being too forward. 

“Yes,” breathes Cas. “Show me the way?” 

It’s a start. Nerves are flying high between them, the sudden calmness after the urgency of last night is a little jarring. They’re just starting to explore whatever this is and it feels like the first time. That fucking Foreigner song is stuck in his head like an ear worm now and he hums it under his breath as he leads Cas to his bedroom. It’s technically a guest room since Sam and Eileen come here more often than he does but since Dean’s been staying for so long, it’s reminiscent of his messy apartment with clothes strewn basically everywhere. Heat floods his cheeks. 

“I’m sure you can tell that I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, embarrassed. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Cas reassures him. “In fact, you used to be much worse.” 

“You telling me I’m messy, Cas?” he teases, already feeling more relaxed. Really, he doesn’t need to be nervous. It’s just Cas . Cas, who’s known him since he was eight, who stuck by him all those years and really, how much can one person change? 

“Yes, why is that surprising?” Cas matches his tone, inching closer towards him. “I thought you liked that I was honest with you.” 

“I did,” says Dean, his fingers tugging the hem of Cas’ dress shirt, pulling it out of his navy blue slacks. “I do.” His hands find skin and they immediately flatten against Cas’ stomach. 

***

A rumbling sigh passes out of Cas’ mouth, and boy does it do something to Dean’s cock. Green meets blue and Dean leans in to brush a tentative kiss on Cas’ lips. Cas smiles gently and his hands suddenly find themselves on Dean’s ass and he pulls him close, bringing their lips together for a soft and sensual kiss. 

Their fronts press together and Dean can feel Cas’ hard cock through the seam of his slacks. He wants more. He pushes, deepening the kiss and walking them backwards to his bed. If they trip over any of Dean’s clothes, no one says a thing. 

They fall on top of each other, hands exploring backs and getting underneath dress shirts. Dean whines in the back of his throat, his need for close skin to skin contact overwhelming. 

“Cas, fuck, can we take off our clothes?” he pants, pulling back to see Cas’ eyes wild and pupils blown out. “I don’t want to come in my pants again.” 

Cas just swallows and nods, grabbing at Dean’s clothes with the desperation of a madman. It’s more complicated than it needs to be, what with Cas peppering kisses over the newly exposed skin and Dean just taking it like a whore. It takes them maybe ten minutes for them both to be completely naked and oh, Jesus Christ, Cas is packing. His mouth waters at the sight and suddenly he wants that cock in him right now . 

“Fuck,” Cas swallows. “Dean, you’re beautiful.” 

Dean flushes red under the praise, and he wants to cover himself. His hands twitch, wanting to touch and kiss and suck and mark the pale expanse of Cas’ stunning body. 

Dean clears his throat. “Right back at you.” 

And suddenly they’re like magnets again, unable to resist the pull of attraction. Their mouths crash and connect and pull and push and Dean never wants this to end. Cas mumbles praises into his ear and Dean crumbles, falling back onto the bed, Cas on all fours around him, caging him—no— protecting him. It’s enough to make a grown man cry. 

Apparently he is crying, because Cas is kissing his cheekbones, his lips wiping the tears away.

“I love you,” Dean chokes out. 

And Cas just smiles. “I love you, too.” A kiss on his lips. “So much.” 

Fuck . 

“Fuck me,” Dean pleads. “Cas, fuck me, please .” 

And the gorgeous man above him grins, and down he goes right down to the top of Dean’s cock. “Lube?” he asks, looking at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean throws his head back, because he was for sure going to blow his load right then and there. 

“Drawer,” he gasps, closing his eyes. 

There’s rustling and then the bed dips and Cas is uncapping the bottle, squirting lube onto his hands and one grasps around Dean’s leaking cock. Dean makes a noise he’d be embarrassed to admit out loud and Cas chuckles, rubbing his stubble along Dean’s inner thighs. His hands spread Dean’s legs further and a lubed up finger teases the ring of muscle. Dean breathes low and breathes deep, relaxing himself because fuck, it’s been a long time since he’s done this. 

Cas helps him by pressing his mouth on the meat of his thighs, and Dean yelps when there’s the small impression of teeth in the mix. 

“You’re so responsive,” Cas praises. “So good for me.” 

Jesus Christ on a fucking cracker. 

And oh, God that’s a finger in his ass. Now there’s a hold on the base of his dick, holding him off from coming and another finger joining in. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans.

“I’ve picked up a few things,” says Cas confidently. 

“You sure have, buddy. God .” 

Cas’ eyebrow arches, and Dean’s dead now. “Don’t call me buddy just before I’m about to fuck you,” he threatens. And there’s a third finger now, stretching him and filling him in ways he didn’t think was possible. 

“ Oh shit !” he cries. Cas found his prostate rubs against it gently. “Cas, fuck me now or I swear to God I will blow my load on your face!” he growls. 

His… lover (?) just chuckles and pulls his fingers out, and wipes them on the sheets. The adult brain in him says those need to be washed later. “Your wish is my command, Dean.” 

A moment passes and now there’s the head of Castiel’s dick teasing the rim of his ass and Dean is a goner. There’s a push and it slides in all at once, filling Dean even more. He moans like a porn star. 

“You’re amazing, Dean,” Cas gasps. “You’re wonderful.” 

Dean can’t even reciprocate because he needs Cas to move right now . His hips move of their own accord, urging Cas wordlessly to get on with it and fuck him into oblivion. 

Cas doesn’t listen because he’s moving his hips at a snail’s pace, inching out more and more until it’s just the head inside and then he slams back into him and Dean just cries out, Cas now setting a brutal pace. It’s beautiful, it’s sexy, it’s glorious and Dean doesn’t ever want this to end. He’s grasping at Cas’ shoulders, scratching his back, keening and moaning and crying and it’ll be a miracle if no neighbours hear him. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because Cas is inside him and Cas loves him too and Cas and Cas and Cas and… 

“Oh, Cas ,” he moans. 

“ Dean ,” Cas reciprocates, capturing his mouth with his own. His thrusts become faster, more desperate and Dean snakes his hand down to stroke his weeping cock, matching Cas’ thrusts because that’s the only thing he can do. They breathe into each other, their lips just touching now. 

“Gonna come,” Dean mumbles. 

“Me too,” Cas gasps. “Come for me, Dean. Fuck, come for me. Come on.” 

And Dean does, while Cas thrusts harder, mumbling beautiful, beautiful until his hips still and Dean’s insides are painted in Cas’ come. 

The afterglow of sex lingers in the air as Cas pulls out, Dean wincing at the gush of spunk coming out of him. It’s great in the moment but the after is always the weird part. Cas doesn’t seem fazed, and he pants as he stands up. 

“Is the bathroom still in the same place?” he asks. 

“Mhm, first door on your left,” Dean mumbles, totally fucked out. 

Cas chuckles and leans down to plant a kiss to Dean’s lips. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Mkay.” 

Cas comes back, as promised and wipes Dean down with a warm cloth. Dean is in heaven right now. 

***

“How are you feeling?” asks Cas. 

“So good, babe,” he replies, the pet name slipping out. “You?” 

“Very good, Dean,” he sighs as he settles down on the bed beside Dean, tugging him close. They face each other, Cas’ pretty blue eyes fluttering around Dean’s face. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

“Counting your freckles,” Cas says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Dean flushes red. 

“How many are there?” 

“Well, you made me lose my count somewhere around the fifties,” Cas says, feigning annoyance, and they fall into comfortable silence, just breathing together. 

Dean is a very lucky man right now. Maybe he can push that luck. 

He takes a deep breath. “Cas?” 

“Yes?”

“Can I take you on a proper date?” 

Cas is unnervingly quiet for a heartstopping few seconds. 

“Dean, we just had sex.”

“Yeah, so?” 

“Usually dates come before the mind blowing sex, not after.” 

“Well, who said we had to follow the rules?”

“You’re right,” Cas sighs fondly. “I will go on a date with you, Dean Winchester. Woo me.” 

“Oh, you’re gonna be wooed so hard,” Dean laughs, closing the space between them to kiss those perfect lips of his. 

Chapter Text

Cas

In the quietness of where they lay that next morning, Castiel wraps his arms tighter around Dean Winchester. The warmth is a comfort Cas didn’t know he was missing. He’s always slept alone, and he’s used to it, even likes it. 

Dean’s drooling in the space between his face and Cas’ chest, and despite it being one of his pet peeves, he finds it adorably endearing. From here, he can see the hard lines in his face relax leaving Dean looking younger than he is. He craves to wake up every morning next to him from now on.

There’s no telling how long Cas watches Dean sleep like a creeper but when Dean stirs awake, Cas peppers soft and slow kisses on his jaw and cheek. 

“Good morning, Dean,” he rumbles, his voice sleep-heavy and hoarse from last night’s… activities . “What were you dreaming about?”

Dean’s lips curve into a beautiful sleepy smile, his eyes still closed. “Mm, you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?” he teases. 

“Only the pretty ones who drool,” Cas counters, then laughs as he watches Dean groan, sitting up abruptly to wipe the spit that’s spilled down his jaw. 

“God, why didn’t you wake me up?” his lover grumbles, his hand pawing at the pool of drool that’s collected on the sheets. 

“It’s adorable!” Cas argues, grasping Dean’s hands with his own and pulling them up to deliver two soft kisses over his knuckles. He relishes the way Dean turns bright red and scowls. 

“And here I was planning on making you breakfast.” says Dean, sticking his tongue out and making a move to get out of bed. Cas counters it by tackling him and pulling him closer, making them both laugh. 

“In that case,” Cas says. “You can stay with me in bed.”

Dean whines and wiggles, trying to get out of Cas’ iron-clad grip while he continues bombarding Dean with morning breath kisses. It’s almost youthful in the way they’re acting like teenagers, like the life Cas always wanted to have. Of course, he was lucky enough to have support to go through his ‘teenager phase’ in his early twenties with Bal and Meg but the ache of what could have been was always present in the back of his mind. 

“I was kidding!” Dean laughs while trying to pry himself away. “I’m actually going to make breakfast so you should let me go!” Cas gently releases his arms from around Dean, even though he craves more sleepy morning warmth. “You can stay in bed, though, sweetheart.” 

Cas falls back, looking up at Dean whose naked form looms over him like some ethereal Adonis. Even if Dean was already bulky in their teens, he’s certainly filled out a lot more. He’s active—Cas can tell that much—but there’s a slight pudge in his belly that Cas wants to take his time exploring with his tongue and nibbling with his teeth. His biceps are nice and toned and on his chest there’s some form of a pentacle encased in flames. He saw it last night as he was taking Dean apart but never fully took the time to appreciate it. 

Cas doesn’t have any tattoos yet. He was tempted; the New York clubs were full of people with glorious works of art on their arms, legs, torsos, and everywhere else. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to walk into a tattoo parlour and ask for something meaningful. He’s seen some designs on Instagram, fantasizing how’d they’d look on his body but they never felt right. 

Dean’s tattoo, though, looks right. 

“How long are you gonna keep staring at me?” Dean quirks, hands on his hips. Oh, Cas could have so many things to say about those hands of his. 

“As long as I can,” he replies, stretching his arms above his head, catching Dean staring like a deer caught in the headlights. “I like your tattoo.”

“Yeah?” Dean seems surprised, breathless. “I got it with Sam a while back. It was his birthday present.” 

“It’s nice, Dean,” Cas says, then sits himself up. “You said you were making me breakfast? As much as I like the idea of you cooking while naked, you should probably at least put some underwear on.”

“As if you have any room to talk,” Dean flushes, then rushes to his suitcase, bending down for Cas to get a full view of that perfect ass of his. “Do you even cook back home?” Sadly, that perfect ass is now covered in tight black boxers, which isn’t so sad in hindsight but Cas still wants to see his bare ass all the time. 

“No,” he draws out, deciding to get out of bed in order to watch Dean at work. “I’m terrible at it. The most I can do is a PB and J.” Cas mimics Dean by grabbing some clean underwear from Dean’s suitcase ( Dean’s suitcase! ) and follows him downstairs to the spacious kitchen. 

Dean immediately gets to work; he takes out eggs, bacon, toast. It’s more than what Castiel eats in the morning, although he does tend to skip breakfast for unhealthy amounts of coffee. The time on the oven clock reads 10:30 so it’s not like they’re rushing. They can take their time. Castiel certainly wants to, by the way his horny brain wants to tackle Dean on the counter and eat him out for breakfast. 

“So what, do you just order takeout every day?” asks Dean, cracking eggs in the pan. The hand holding the spatula flails as he speaks. “Like, you don’t cook at all?” 

Cas’ arms settle in front of him on the counter, fingers meshing together. “Well, I don’t eat breakfast for one. Lunch is almost always provided at work, and dinner… yeah, I order takeout or pick something up close by. Or I go out.” 

Dean laughs. “How can you even afford that?” 

“I make enough,” Cas shrugs. “Accounting pays well.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean begins plating their breakfast. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, mostly. It’s not my dream job or anything but it’s good.” Cas reaches out to steal a piece of bacon and moans at the salty goodness. “I can’t remember if Sam told me what you’re doing for work.” 

“I’m an engineer,” he says, circling around with both of their plates so he can set them on the table behind them. Cas follows. “I work with cars, mainly. Nothing crazy.” 

“Do you like it?” Cas asks, fiddling around his eggs with his fork. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a career I truly liked. They’re just jobs to me.”

Like some heathen, Dean pours maple syrup on his bacon and his eggs. “I love my job, man.” Cas raises an eyebrow in surprise. “I get to look at awesome cars, design them, check out their engines. I get on the floor to cover for my mechanics at least once or twice a week. I like being hands on,” he winks, shoveling his horrible egg/maple syrup combination in his mouth. Disgusting.  “But, I don’t know, Cas. You always seemed to have your life figured out for yourself.” 

Cas sighs, disappointed that the conversation turned a little too personal. He wants to know Dean, of course he does, but that also means Dean has to know him and… well, he’s afraid he’ll be just as disappointing and boring as his parents. Castiel isn’t special like Dean is. He didn’t have to claw and work harder than everyone else just to get a small chance to do something great with his life. Cas had everything handed to him. 

“I did,” he says finally. “But there’s a lot of expectations that come with it. I never really took the time to think about who I want to be. Frankly, I’m scared to.”

It’s so easy to talk to Dean. Familiarity and nostalgia hits him all at once. This is the way it’s always been. They’ve always been able to talk about things easily. Sure, they had a bit of a rocky start but really, all they needed was a push. 

“How long is your vacation?” asks Dean after a moment. 

“I’ve got three weeks left,” Cas responds, surprised at the turn of the subject.  

“So, I’ve got three weeks to help you figure out what you want to do with your life,” Dean decides. “And to woo you into being my boyfriend.” 

“Is that your end goal?” Cas teases, a smile tugging the edge of his lips. As always, Dean never fails to cheer him up. 

“It’s a start,” says Dean, and their eyes meet. Dean breaks first and blushes. “Eat your breakfast, it’s getting cold.” 

Cas does so happily.

— 

They’re slow to get ready for the day. Cas isn’t sure if today will be when Dean gets to take him on a date but he’s keeping his options open. If they were in New York, Cas would jump at the opportunity to take him to Central Park. 

Touches linger between them; they can have this. Dean, the taller between them, presses kisses on his shoulders, and wraps his arms around his waist. Sometimes Cas will catch him singing Led Zeppelin songs under his breath while they wash and dry dishes. 

Cas ends up walking back to his parent’s to grab some clothes because as much as he enjoys wearing Dean’s, they don’t quite fit and he’d prefer something a little less obvious. 

Zachariah raises his eyebrows at his return, looking up from where he’s staring at his computer (probably drawing up a contract) but says nothing as Castiel runs upstairs and grabs what he needs. He assumes his mother is out walking Enoch, since he doesn’t see her, nor does the dog yap at the entrance. His father follows him with his eyes as he heads out and returns to Dean, who’s munching on some leftover toast. That green-eyed man stares him up and down with nothing short of lust. 

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, pointedly ignoring the bundle in Cas’ right hand. 

“You’re insatiable,” says Cas, rolling his eyes. “I’m getting dressed.” 

“Not without a blowjob, you’re not.” 

Cas grimaces, but his dick perks up in interest. “Rinse your mouth first. I don’t want toast crumbs in my dick.” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean salutes, shoving the rest of the toast in his gullet, his footfalls following behind Castiel up the stairs. While Dean goes to the bathroom to (hopefully thoroughly ) clean his mouth as instructed, Cas lets himself fall back and take a breath. 

Everything’s so easy. 

But how long will it last ? his brain doubts with evil intentions. 

What if this is all a sick joke from the universe and Cas is in some coma? What if things will never turn out between them and this just ends up being some summer fling? Cas’ heart couldn’t take it. He’s spent so much time getting over Dean that if he’s ripped away from him again, he might—

“Hey,” Dean snaps his fingers in front of Cas’ face. “There you are,” he says relieved. “Where’d you go?”

“I—,” he tries, words failing. “I don’t—”

“Hey,” Dean whispers, crouching down to take Cas’ head in his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The touch grounds him a little but it does little else to quell the storm brewing inside him. Only now does it hit that everything’s changed between them. Fifteen years of space and no contact only to be thrust into spending nearly every day together. It’s… it’s almost too much. There was no buildup besides the moments before their argument and then there they were together, attached at the hip for what seems like weeks . 

“Cas, baby, I need you to breathe,” Dean reminds him, rubbing those strong hands over his shoulders and arms. 

Sensations. 

He can focus on those. 

“That’s it, good job, sweetheart,” Dean praises and Castiel can finally breathe a little easier. He’s not used to this; his relationships were little other than hookups at most and awkward first dates. Besides what he was doing with Mick, Cas doesn’t know how to do this. 

Relationships are complicated and messy and hard and as much as he wants one with Dean, can he even be strong enough to keep them together? What if they’re just meant to be friends and nothing more? What if everything they’ve done was out of obligation? Dean can’t love him, not in the way Cas hopes he does. Last night was weakness, just like the night before. Dean promised things in the heat of the moment. How can Cas know if he meant them?  

“Dean, I’m scared,” he chokes out, his lungs hurting with every breath. 

“That’s a start,” Dean sighs softly. “What are you scared about?” 

“Us,” Cas shakes. “This—this whole thing we’ve been doing! I don’t know what’s real and if you’re even gonna stay and I can’t—I can’t lose you again, Dean!” 

“You won’t,” says Dean, his voice steady. “Cas, fuck, I love you so much that it hurts to breathe without you.” 

“That’s—,” he manages to laugh slightly, logic taking over what is probably another heartfelt confession. “Dean, that’s so unhealthy.” 

Dean laughs with him and it soothes the storm inside. “Sam’s already worried about my cholesterol, I don’t need you worrying about my codependency.” 

“Have you ever heard of therapy?” he teases, slowly feeling like he’s coming back to himself. 

Dean blushes, his head tilting down to the floor. “Yeah, actually,” he murmurs. “I looked into it. There’s a good one in my city. She, uh, she specializes in childhood trauma.” 

Cas can finally move his stiff limbs, starting from wiggling his toes to his fingers and he stretches out his arm to embrace Dean’s cheek. “That’s great, Dean,” he praises, rubbing his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Shuddup,” grouches Dean with no heat in his words. “I’m supposed to be comforting you , not the other way around.” 

Cas bends down to plant a kiss on Dean’s pouted lips. From there, his mind gets clearer than it has been all morning. They’re just kissing; enjoying each other’s company. “You’ve already helped so much,” he whispers as they pull apart. “We’ll make it up as we go.” 

The look on Dean’s face is beautiful. Where concerned wrinkles once lay is now a smooth turn of surprise and suddenly he smiles, pressing their mouths together. 

“Okay, Cas,” says Dean through a breathless laugh. “That’s a plan.” And he kisses him again. 

Things are starting to feel okay. 

Dean 

It’s been two days since Dean promised that date. Cas, the ever-patient man, has not mentioned it once. It eases his nerves but at the same time amplifies them. They’ve been huddled in their little cuddle pile of blankets and clothes, only getting out of it so Dean can cook food and Cas can watch him with a hunger he didn’t think he possessed. 

Don’t get him wrong—the sex is great. Dean doesn’t think he’s had that many consecutive orgasms in his life. But they need to get out. People are probably already talking since the stars of the show, Sam and Eileen, have left to go do their own spinoff. Dean wants to show off his new… boyfriend? Are they boyfriends? They haven’t confirmed that yet. Regardless, he wants to woo Cas into being his boyfriend if nothing else. They’ll figure out the long distance thing later. 

Dean slips out of bed while Cas snores, his head pillowed on his own arm. He’d wake him up with a blowjob but he wants today to be special. There’s the bare bones of a planned day in his head but if things don’t go the way he's thinking, well, like Cas said, they’ll make it up as they go along. 

So he makes breakfast, brings it to Cas in bed who kisses him with syrup-laced lips, manages to get them both dressed before they end up too entangled in the sheets again, and they’re out the door before Dean can say Poughkeepsie . Cas, the vampire, squints at the daylight and covers his eyes with his hand. The Impala gleams its dark coat with the reflections of their debauched selves. It’s looking to be a gorgeous day and already the cogs are turning in Dean’s head. The familiar purr of her engine grounds him as they head off to one of Dean’s favourite places. 

“Mini golf!” Cas announces excitedly as they pull into the parking lot. 

Dean grins widely. “It’s time for teenage Cas to live his dreams!” 

“I can’t believe you remembered,” he says reverently. Besides Dean's birthday parties, Cas never got to enjoy the epic highs and lows of mini-golfing as a teenager. He was either too busy with his studies or his parents carted him off somewhere. Other than rare nights at the Barn, Cas never really had the time to enjoy his teenage years. 

“‘Course I did. Now come on!” Dean grabs his hand without thinking and he drags Cas to the concession stand. 

Cas wins because Dean is a sucker. Although, the entire time he stared at Cas’ ass every time he bent down to putt. Eh, he won in a different way because the smile Cas wore on his face is worth more than any prize. He decides he wants to keep that smile forever. 

Their banter is fun. They slip into comfortable domesticity like they’ve been married for years. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe if Dean hadn’t said what he said, they would have been married and disgustingly cute. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the total heartache every time Sam and Eileen were together. 

He shouldn’t dwell on what could have been. Cas is here. They’re okay. 

There’s a soft touch on his shoulder and Cas slides beside him on the picnic table. There’s two root beer floats and some fries on the table and Dean automatically shoves a handful in his mouth. 

“You think really loudly,” says Cas. 

“Oh yeah?” Dean grouches, hunching his shoulders. “What am I thinking about?”

His hands slide over Dean’s back affectionately, the touch comforting and grounding. Dean automatically straightens up. “I think you’re beating yourself up for what happened that night. That we couldn’t have this.”

Again, is Cas psychic or something?

“I think,” he continues, his fingers drumming a pattern between Dean’s shoulders. “That you wish you pulled your head out of your ass sooner.”

Dean frowns, turning his head to find Cas with the smuggest look on his face. He’s right but damn! Give a man a break! 

“Okay, well, I’ve got you now.” 

The smile Cas gives is soft and welcoming. “You do.” 

He thinks that they’re gonna last this time. 

—-

One week later, with Cas in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean rips down the highway headed for unknown destinations. The mixtape in the slot plays You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac and Cas mouths along to the lyrics like Dean knew he would. When they took a small break from each other after their date, Dean put it upon himself to make the mixtape Cas deserved. Phase II of wooing Cas into his boyfriend was in full effect.

Phase I was the date which was extremely successful. Cas gave him the blowjob of his dreams in the dark and empty mini golf parking lot before they went to the Roadhouse to get absolutely plastered and for Cas to get a chance to reconnect with the old crotches who definitely missed him. 

Mountains crowd their view in the windshield: the Rockies. Cas makes a comment about how gorgeous they are and Dean agrees, slowing down to let Cas take some pictures. He pulls over at a nearby hiking spot he knows is the best for views and they strap on their boots and venture forward. Dean leads, making commentary about his memories with Sam as college kids while Cas listens with rapt attention, occasionally stopping to stare in awe at the lush green trees they tread through. The fauna is particularly active today; some deer popping out of their hiding spots and so many squirrels skitter across the forest floor. Birds sing their songs above, and honestly, it’s amazing. 

An hour later, they find themselves at the waterfall Dean was not-so-subtly leading them to. Castiel kisses him in front of the falls, his arm outstretched with his phone to take a sweet picture of the both of them. He sends it to the groupchat Dean added him to, consisting of Charlie, Eileen, and Sam. Once they’re back at the Impala and have scarfed down the sandwiches Dean packed for the road, they check their messages to find a bombardment of praise and congratulations. Softness settles in Dean’s gut.

Their first stop is in Wyoming, since Dean refuses to stop in Utah for many reasons. As beautiful as it is, Dean’s not keen on being hounded by Latter Day Saints pounding on their motel door while Dean tries to enjoy his own pounding. So Wyoming it is. The Hot Springs in Thermopolis are stunning, and they spend hours talking, soaking in those minerals. It’s an even better end to his day when Cas insists on paying for a hotel and Dean gets rimmed within an inch of his life. 

They get up early to drive to the stunning Yellowstone park with its famous geysers before they head North to Montana. Cas takes everything in with a huge smile on his face and slowly, Dean begins to see a more relaxed version of Cas coming through. He’s laughing more, wearing looser clothes, his stiff posture turning lax. It’s Dean who’s bringing that out, and pride swells within him. 

Montana is beautiful as well, and the mountains follow them all the way up to the Canadian border into Alberta, which borders more of the Rockies’ range and great plains of canola. Dean’s inner child squeals in his seat, yelling out ‘cows’ and ‘horses’ every time they pass by them. The city of Banff is picturesque and almost stuck in time with its brick buildings and copper roofs turned green from age and weather. It’s way too expensive to spend a night there even at Cas’ insistence, so Dean drives them five hours to Revelstoke in British Columbia. It’s small with lush pine trees and Cas seems to enjoy it immensely before they head in for the night with some soft and slow and loving sex. 

The conversations they have in the car are fulfilling and nostalgic. They catch each other up on what they’ve missed in the past fifteen years while they weren’t talking. There were a lot of apologies and a lot of reassurance. It’s nice to be able to have this time to get to do something they promised they would do when they were fifteen and itching to make their way in the world. It’s not totally perfect, of course. They argue and bicker and threaten each other like they always have but it doesn’t last long. Pet peeves are just that: pet peeves. As a bonus, all the little diner stops and seedy gas stations they stop at, no one bats an eye when Cas casually slips his hand in Dean’s or when Dean pecks Cas’ cheek. Society has evolved since then. Dean no longer feels like he has to hide who he is and who he loves. 

The rest of their road trip takes them down to Washington and they marvel at Rainier as they pass through before moving onto Oregon, stopping through various little monumental landscapes. They keep sending the groupchat miscellaneous updates on where they are while Sam and Eileen send theirs from Ireland. Charlie pretends to be upset at them all for leaving her behind but it seems like she’s enjoying the blessed alone time with her computer. Once they land in California, though, it’s beach time. Dean and Cas in matching floral shirts, spread their toes in the sand before trying to drown each other in the water. The kisses are salty and they end up with sand everywhere . 

Nevada is a quick run-through since the novelty of it all from their teens has faded, but Dean was tempted to drag Cas to a Las Vegas chapel with Elvis as an officiator to get them married right then and there. Too soon, Winchester . 

Then it’s Arizona and Cas has a staring contest with a bird on a cactus and it’s the funniest thing. Dean makes sure to take a video of it. It lasts for a whole five minutes before the bird relents and flies off to find another cactus to perch on away from prying eyes. In Cas’ defense, he said the bird looked suspicious. Dean just laughs and kisses him before they go back in the car and watch the stars in the untouched sky. 

In New Mexico, Dean makes a comment about how he heard God was on a tortilla here, to which Cas frowns and says he’s not on any flatbread. It makes Dean laugh harder than he has in a very long time. They shoot back continuous rounds of tequila shots from the over-enthusiastic bartender who keeps telling them they need to eat this cactus from the food truck next door and they get so drunk they barely get through the door of their disco-themed motel room. 

Once they get back to Colorado, Cas has just a few days before he goes back to New York and they’re both dreading it. Sam and Eileen are due back around the same time as well and Dean can’t help but feel like the ball of guilt is getting bigger because what do he and Cas do now?

They haven’t broached the subject yet of whether or not they’re dating or if long-distance can even work between them. But Dean has a plan tonight. Later that night, when Cas comes over, the candles he stole from Eileen’s secret stash have been lit in the dining room, the dining table is adorned with a table cloth he dug out of the attic and the fanciest china he could find in the cluttered basement, Dean’s favourite Fleetwood Mac album crooning softly in the space.

“What’s all this, Dean?” Cas asks, letting him take off the atrocious trench-coat Dean’s come to love. 

“It’s Phase III of me wooing you into my boyfriend,” Dean says quickly, leading him down into the chair, pulling it out for him and everything. “The final phase, I hope.”

“You didn’t need to do all this,” he says. “I would happily be your boyfriend if you’d let me.”

Dean laughs, the nerves draining out of him instantly. “Damn it, Cas! Why do you have to be so accommodating and amazing and perfect ? I had this whole dinner planned and this speech and— damn it, I love you so much.” He finally sits down across from Cas and reaches out his hand on the table, prompting Cas to put his hand in his. Dean’s thumb automatically rubs at the skin of Cas’ hand. 

“I love you too, my beloved,” says Cas, the pet name like a purr of affection. Dean’s heart constricts and he nearly dies right there. “Please, carry on. Woo me properly,” Castiel insists.

Dean does, dishing out the pasta and garnishing both plates with fresh parsley then sets them down at the table before digging the fancy Chardonnay he bought that morning out of the fridge. He’d never admit this out loud but he actually likes the stuff. It’s from California and it surprisingly tastes like peaches. Cas seems to like it too from the way he hums in delight; a noise Dean has come to recognize. 

They cheer, looking at each other with reverence before digging into the carbonara Dean’s made for the first time and honestly? It’s fucking delicious. Cas keeps making distracting noises around his fork and Dean blushes heavily at not only the filthy sounds he’s come to memorize but the fact that Cas continues to praise his cooking. 

Dessert comes in the form of a blueberry pie Dean bought from the bakery in town. He can’t bake for shit but Cas’ cousin Gabriel makes some of the best ever and his is basically on par with homemade. They joke and talk and make moon eyes at each other and when they’re both full and happy, Dean sighs and smiles at the man he’s fallen for all over again. 

“Castiel James Novak,” he starts, knowing the answer already. His speech will be for their wedding. “Will you be my boyfriend?” 

Castiel doesn’t answer with words, but rather gets out of his chair to cradle Dean’s head and bring him in for a kiss that rises above every other kiss he’s gotten from Cas so far. Their mouths move together in a sensual dance and they are together from this moment on. 

Chapter Text

Cas — New York, December, 2022

The door jigs open with Castiel’s hard push. The smell of immaculate cleanliness, laundry sheets and vinegar envelop his senses. He nearly forgot that he had someone come in to clean his apartment. 

“Welcome to New York,” he sighs, extending his arm out. 

Dean’s nose wrinkles, creasing the freckles smattered across his nose. Cas casts his head down, already feeling shame for how he lives. Compared to Dean’s messy and free disposition, Castiel is as clinical and as dull as a hospital. 

Still, even after three weeks of absolute bliss with Dean, two months of long-distance, and five thousand words of reassurance, Cas still doubts that he is deserving of a man such as Dean Winchester. 

“Make yourself at home,” he says instead, attempting to distract his brain from falling down another rabbit hole. All this time, he’s been avoiding this conversation with his therapist and it looks like he can’t any longer. 

Breathe, Castiel . 

Automatically, Dean carries his suitcase into the spacious apartment, his head held high and turning, taking everything in. He whistles low, no doubt at the floor to ceiling windows, spacious kitchen, open-floor layout, and furniture placed meticulously for the best feng shui. The furniture was Balthazar’s doing.

“Nice place, Cas,” Dean praises with no hint of sarcasm. “Where’s your room?” 

“The first door, there,” he points out, his palms sweaty. He wipes them on his pants. “Sorry about the smell,” he blurts out, wanting to ease the silence. 

Dean waves him off like it doesn’t bother him and Cas follows him while Dean quite literally makes himself at home. He takes his suitcase apart, organizing Cas’ drawers to fit both his and Dean’s clothes and Castiel is practically swooning. 

What was he even worrying about this whole time? In the short span of their budding relationship, Dean has carved a place back into Castiel’s life like it was Michelangelo’s handiwork. 

He didn’t think he would be so giddy about Dean coming home with him. And for Christmas, no less! His parents are in their own hotel this time, insisting on it to give both him and Dean privacy. The acceptance of their relationship was a very quick process and now his mother is asking when they’ll get married, which makes Dean choke every time the question is asked during dinner parties. On Thanksgiving, she not-so-subtly asked if they were going to adopt or get a surrogate for their future children. Castiel choked on the turkey. 

Cas retreats to the kitchen, opening his… very empty fridge. He sighs and leans back, cursing himself for not having Balthazar come by and fill up his fridge but Bal is just as bad if not worse than Cas at cooking. 

“Dean, are you hungry?” he calls out. 

“Starving,” says Dean, emerging from Cas’—their(?)—room. He’s shucked off the sweater he wore on their way here and is now in a white t-shirt and sweatpants that hug his body. Fuck, he needs to stop being so attractive. Cas is going to have a heart attack before he’s forty. 

Instead, he clears his throat. “I’m going to order something. What would you like?” 

Strong arms wrap around Cas’ middle and Dean plops his head on his left shoulder and kisses his jaw. “How ‘bout I eat you out, instead?” he proposes. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Cas smiles and laughs, turning his head to meet Dean’s lips in a kiss. “Chinese it is,” he says, swivelling his body around to rest his arm’s on his boyfriend’s shoulders and moving him to the couch.

“You’re no fun,” Dean pouts.

Far away from Dean as he possibly can on the leather couch, Cas taps out the order on his phone, but Dean seems to make it his mission to make Cas as horny as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas spots Dean crawling towards him and settling behind him. His strong hands glide around Cas’ chest, his waist, and there’s a trail of wetness where Dean’s mouth leaves, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive parts of his neck. With shaking hands, Cas places the order and sets his phone on the table before taking swift action and manhandling Dean so he’s pinned on his back on the couch. Dean’s grin is cheeky and Cas kisses it away, the electric tingle of their lips colliding together all the more energized. 

More confident, Cas slips his knee in between Dean’s legs and pushes it into his groin. Beneath him, Dean whines and palms Cas’ shoulders desperately. Cas pulls away and grins at the pout Dean leaves for another kiss, which he indulges. “Are you going to fulfill your promise, Dean?” he suggests with a dark tone. 

With pupils blown wide and expression darkened, Dean nods dumbly like it’s something so incredulous for Castiel to suggest. With a gentle push, Cas falls back slowly on the couch as the predator above him begins to toy at the hem of his sweater, lifting it up until Castiel’s chest is bare. The couch will need a thorough cleaning later but he sends a silent thanks to Balthazar for choosing leather. It’ll be easier to clean, Cassie , he said with a wink.

***

Sweat beads down his neck as Dean works at the buttons on his pants. He’s being cheeky now, using the tip of his teeth to slide the zipper down and expose the tent in Cas’ boxers. That perfect mouth kisses the tip of his cock over the fabric and Cas nearly loses it. His hands grasp Dean’s overgrown hair. Honestly, that hair should be considered a sin. Not to mention the beautiful scruff his boyfriend’s grown out over ‘Movember’ that’s now been the object of Castiel’s greatest fantasies. He’s going to relish the beard burn later. 

With careful fingers, Dean stretches the waistband of Cas’ underwear and tucks it underneath Cas’ balls, his cock now standing erect and weeping. Impatient, Cas lifts his hips to shimmy out of his pants and underwear and then spreads his legs, now completely exposed. He’s lucky his apartment is so high up and a marginal distance away from prying eyes. A sick little part of him feels a thrill at the prospect of voyeurism, though. He’ll explore that little tidbit some other time because right now, Dean chuckles and puts that sinful mouth of his to use.

Hot and velvety, the inside of Dean’s mouth is heaven and his tongue draws swirling shapes around the head of his cock. Castiel moans low, his hips just barely bucking in rhythm with the bob of Dean’s head. 

It isn’t long before Dean pops off and uses those stupid sinful hands to grab Cas’ thighs and put them over his shoulders, tugging just a little to make Cas yelp and fall back, his ass now in direct line with Dean’s face. 

Oh, yes, please .

“Ready, sweetheart?” Dean asks, lust and playfulness dancing in his eyes. The image is enough to make Castiel blow his load all over Dean’s face and oh, wouldn’t that be a sight.  

“Please,” is all Cas can muster, gasping at the brute strength his boyfriend apparently possesses. Those Adonis muscles aren’t just for show after all. 

In one smooth motion, Dean spreads his asscheeks and licks a long stripe over his hole, beginning to eat him out in earnest. His tongue switches between diving inside and making patterns over the furled (rosebud) skin. Cas moans and gasps and whines, his cock beginning to weep with how hard he is. Somehow, Dean has the balance to keep Cas leg’s hoisted over his shoulders while his right hand reaches around to stroke his dick, his thumb rubbing over the head, using the pre-come to aid the glide. 

Through panting whines, Cas announces he’s about to come and Dean, being the sex-god he is, looks up at him through those beautiful long lashes of his. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says and Cas is gone, his orgasm wracking through his body like a hurricane, spurts of come splattering on his chest while Dean rides him out, his tongue still very much in his ass. 

After a moment, Dean gently puts him down and leans over to look at the notifications popping up on Castiel’s phone before kissing him once and hopping up to open the door as if Cas isn’t completely fucked out and covered in his own come. He’s very discreet about it, though, slipping his arm through the small opening he’s made and grabbing the takeout bags then closing and locking the door before heading over to the kitchen. Cas’ eyes follow him, squinting with fake anger, wondering who gave Dean the absolute audacity to give him a perfect orgasm and then leave him to unpack the Chinese food that Cas ordered ! 

***

Dean’s smile is absolutely like the cat who ate the canary as he comes back with a washcloth and wipes him down, kissing the wet skin on his stomach. Despite himself, Cas laughs. 

“You asshole,” he teases. “I can’t believe you just left me there!” 

His boyfriend bites his bottom lip, his chest heaving to hide a laugh. “I didn’t want the food to get cold,” he explains, using his hands to his advantage, rubbing soothing strokes over Cas’ skin. 

“I’m getting dressed,” says Cas, pointing an accusatory finger right in front of Dean’s nose. “And this food better be plated and on this table by the time I get back.”

“Roger that,” Dean salutes, his smile growing wider by the second. 

True to his word, when Cas is dressed in clean underwear and warm clothing, Dean has not only set the table but he’s figured out Cas’ sound system and Elton John’s voice rings through like a sure thing. Satisfied, Cas bends down to give a sweet kiss to Dean’s cheek as his hand trails over the plane of his back. 

Domesticity feels good.

—

Every year around August, Dean and Castiel take a road trip in and around the United States. They stop in places they haven’t seen before, checking out little towns until eventually they find their favourites and plan out their trips from there. 

On their second anniversary, Dean proposes with his late mother’s wedding ring in the Barn, decorated with battery powered fairy lights and a song on his lips. Somehow, Charlie was able to hide in the hayloft, taking candid pictures of the entire thing. The party after was magnificent. Balthazar certainly knows how to throw one for the picture books.

Since then, Cas quit his job at Sandover, moved out of New York to move in with Dean in Kansas City, and somehow, Meg got out with him. She managed to get out of Crowley’s clutches long enough to convince him she can work remotely from now on. And no, she didn’t move in with Dean and Cas, but rather with Charlie in Topeka, the two getting very acquainted during the engagement party. 

Every day feels like a dream come true. True to his word, Dean does spend many of his days making up the fifteen years they missed and Cas in turn makes sure that Dean knows he’s loved and that he’s deserving of it. Their problems are small, if any, and they solve them like adults. 

Cas feels good. Really good. He even introduces a reluctant Dean to Taylor Swift, who takes a particular shine to Shake it Off . She gets added to their shared playlist.

For someone who always felt comfort in solitude, Cas now finds he craves those moments with Dean, his fiance , which makes his heart beat faster every time the word is mentioned. Speaking of, wedding planning has a few setbacks. For one, they can’t agree on wedding colours, Dean insists on having pie only, Cas feels obligated to invite everyone they’ve ever met and the biggest question is: how are they going to divide their wedding parties?

Their friend groups have melded together as it did when they were kids. Dean’s friend group accepted Cas with open arms and a lot of back slaps. Balthazar’s even warmed up to Dean these past couple years and well, Meg’s with Charlie now and Charlie is with Dean so really, there’s no division that would make sense. 

“Why not combine them?” suggests Sam as he shoves an oversized piece of dynamite roll in his mouth, his cheeks puffing out to accommodate it. All four of them are on a double-date at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant in KC. Since they all live there, Cas’ social life has sky-rocketed. Sam swallows. “You don’t have to go traditional like Eileen and I did.”

The glow of marriage looks good on Dean’s younger brother and Cas’ closest friend. Their rings bring the attention every time their left hands come into view and Cas is a little envious they got to it first. It’s a miracle he’s kept his parents hands-off for this long. They still offered to pay for the wedding since Cas’ new job took a heavy hit to the six figures he was making over at Sandover. 

“How would that work?” asks Dean, mirroring his brother but this time with a piece of sashimi. “Like, the bachelor parties and stuff.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. “ Combine them ,” he emphasizes, the steam practically coming out of his ears. “You guys can figure out the specifics of who’s on whose side later.” Eileen barely holds in a laugh as she pats Sam’s shoulder affectionately. She and Cas share a secret look about their significant others. Brothers will be brothers, except Eileen and Cas will never understand since they are only children. 

Cas uses his free hand to reach under the table to squeeze Dean’s thigh; a silent indicator of the compromise Sam suggested. Dean tilts himself to the side as a silent agreement. Combining their friend group into a singular wedding party it is. 

— July, 2024

Their bachelor party is actually so much fun. They start the day with brunch (Cas’ request) and bottomless mimosas. They take a small break in between before Charlie and Meg drag them both to a karaoke bar with an honest-to-God mechanical bull. 

As is custom, they get drunk off their asses and their friends stumble through heartfelt speeches and congratulations. The karaoke is a hit, everyone taking their chance to howl through various songs while brave souls attempt Larry the bull. Unbeknownst to everyone, Dean and Castiel have practiced for this day, and they both head into the bullpen, hand in hand. Dean straddles Cas’ thighs as they mount the metal beast and sway along to the harsh buckling of the machine. They’re close in the sensual sense and Dean has this stupid cowboy hat he holds high in the air, their noses touching, breaths combining together. They last for maybe thirty seconds before Larry throws them off and they tumble together in the bullpen, laughing and kissing, squished in the mats. 

When the morning brushes the horizon, Cas wakes up next to his future husband drooling into the pillow of their bed. Today is packing day, which should be easy on their hungover states. They’re going to Lazarus for their wedding, which in Cas’ opinion, is their adventure coming full circle before the next. 

John won’t be attending because he died six months after they started dating. The employees at The Gate said it was due to alcohol poisoning which Cas didn’t find all that surprising considering Dean said that his father had trouble holding sobriety. Still, Cas gave comfort to Dean through the funeral and held him through the dark nights when Dean cried over the father he wished he had. 

Still, John’s death left Sam and Dean with not only a considerable amount of property but an untouched retirement fund John probably forgot about in the haze of booze. Dean’s half ends up paying for half of the wedding so really, it’s a form of reparations. 

The drive back to Lazarus is no longer bittersweet. It’s not only brightened up with Cas’ newfound mental stability but physically, it seems more lively. He suspects Dean’s had something to do with it. Dean is sunshine personified, and he’s brightened every aspect of Castiel’s life and he couldn’t be more grateful to spend forever with that bright star. 

Dean — The Wedding

To say Dean Winchester is nervous is a vast understatement. You know when you hope for something for so long and you finally get it and then you don’t know if you actually deserve it? Yeah, that’s exactly what’s going on in Dean’s brain. Is there a dent in the grass where Dean’s been pacing? His fingernails taste particularly delicious right now, too. 

“Dude,” says Sam, slapping Dean’s hand away from his mouth. “Cut it out. You paid thirty bucks for that manicure.” 

His brother’s right, but Dean pouts anyway and shoves his hands in his pockets. He wishes it wasn’t so hot out, the July sun beats down on this otherwise picturesque day. The dress shirt threatens to cling to his skin, sweat beginning to accumulate on his back. 

“Can we go inside? I feel like I’m about to melt out here.”

Sam shrugs and they enter the transformed space of the Barn. Dean saw this yesterday at the rehearsal dinner but it still gives him butterflies. There’s soft fabric draped from the haylofts and intertwined with the fairy light clumps stuffed in mason jars hanging from the roof. How they managed to fit fifty chairs in the space will forever be a mystery, decorated with deep blues and soft greens leading to the handmade arch of sticks from the trees Garth cut down from the forest on his property. The guest book is right next to the carving of their initials, a not-so-subtle display of everything they’ve gone through. It’s perfect. 

As a courtesy, mini water bottles are placed near the entrance and Dean chugs one quickly, if only to calm his crazed state. Sam keeps offering him steady support, and how the tables have turned. He remembers Sam nearly psyching himself up to a mental breakdown just before he got married to Eileen. It wasn’t funny at the time but they look back on the memory with fondness anyway. 

Guests begin to stream in and he relaxes, because it’s all friends and family. He and Cas wanted to keep things casual and low key, only inviting people they knew well enough to share this special moment with. Dean eventually warmed up to Cas’ parents and vice-versa, considering their son was going to be Dean’s husband . They pop in the Barn first along with Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. Hugs are exchanged all around before Naomi and Zachariah Novak leave to collect Cas for later. Dean should probably do that as well and he heads out, Charlie taking her position as official greeter. Sam may be his best man but he’s bringing Dean down the aisle. 

There’s a small tent behind the Barn and Dean finds Cas there, looking every bit as gorgeous as he expected him to be. They’re both in matching suits with flowers embroidered on the pants and the vests. Cas is donning light blue with green carnations (an ode to Oscar Wilde) while Dean is rocking a light green suit with blue forget-me-nots. Honestly, when the idea was presented to him, it was not Dean’s cup of tea but seeing both him and Cas in the small mirror of the tent sends a thrill down his spine. They look good .

Cas’ rare fond smile is wide on his face as he pulls Dean in for a comforting hug. Relief sags into his whole body, his face tucked into the crook of Cas’ neck, breathing in that cedar and vanilla cologne. When they pull apart, Dean feels the tears well in his eyes and he plants a gentle kiss on Cas’ forehead. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” he says, breathless.

“Always, beloved,” Cas responds, embracing Dean’s face in the palm of his hand. 

Cas goes first, his parents each taking a side. Dean watches him go, and tilts his head just slightly to get a view of the ass he loves so much. The man attached to it is pretty great, too. A moment later, Sam claps his shoulder and they follow Cas into the Barn. There’s a moment of silence and then Charlie, who’s made her way to the stereo, taps on her phone to play the instrumental version of It’s Never Too Late by Steppenwolf. It’s a testament to them, to their story, their everything. 

Dean looks around at the family all around him, feeling the outpour of love from the people of this town: those who’ve either left it or have made it their home. Everyone that matters is here to celebrate the love Dean and Castiel have for each other. 

When the keyboard finishes its flourish, Dean and Cas stand before each other under the arch, their friend group meshed around each other and Eileen, their officiant, stands before them and smiles wide. She directs the crowd to sit and clears her throat.

“ Everyone ,” she starts with a wink. “ I think you all know why you’re here. It’s because these two idiots finally got their heads out of their asses and admitted they’re in love with each other .” The crowd laughs. “ Only took you fifteen years ,” she says, addressing them both, then turns back to the crowd. “For those of you who’ve known since the beginning, how are those bets going? I’m sure you’re just as excited as they are to see them finally tie the knot. And for someone like me, who’s had to hear the complaints about the other for years , well, you’d try to smack some sense into them, too. The truth is, these two had to figure it out on their own. But there’s nothing wrong with a little nudge to get the ball rolling. And it all worked out because look at how disgustingly in love they both are! ” She pauses for effect, the comedian. “ I’m sure none of you object to this union and I’m sure you’d be at whoever does with pitchforks and torches. ” Another pause for laughter. “ I expect you two to have your own vows ready because you’re supposed to. If not, well, I hope you’re good at improv. ” 

With that, Eileen takes a bow as everyone claps and cheers. Smiles are all around and Dean’s cheeks hurt but he’s so fucking happy that it aches in his bones. He clears his throat, and Cas does, too. 

“Cas—”

“Dean—”

“Sorry, you first—”

“Go ahead—”

Dean coughs as the audience chuckles lightly and he gestures for Cas to make the first speech. Let it be known that even though they cleared this up at the rehearsal dinner, Dean was still too eager to start. 

“Dean, my beloved,” Cas begins, his voice shaking. Dean extends his hands out for Cas to take them and he gets a grateful squeeze in return. “I didn’t think I would be here with you today. For fifteen years I was under the impression you hated me. I wanted to forget you so bad that I lost sight of what I truly wanted in life. I threw myself into work and into a forced social life so that I wouldn’t deprive myself of a queer experience. If I had known what I do now, we could have avoided all the pain so much sooner. But that doesn’t mean I regret any of this for one second. For the past two years, you have shown me true dedication to your word and to your values. You deserve to know you are loved and you deserve to be loved. I will spend the rest of my life showing that to you. I can’t begin to express how much you mean to me and how much I love you. You are my shining sun, my star, with your soul as bright as galaxies. You are my righteous man and I am your soldier, your shield, your protector. You are my one and only, Dean, and forever with you will be a dream.” Cas’ voice warbles at the end, his eyes wet and shining, and Dean doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the brush of a salty tear drops on his tongue.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean mutters under his breath, fighting the urge to just grab the man and kiss him stupid. He wipes under his future husband’s eyes with the pad of his thumb instead, Cas leaning into the touch, and subtly kissing the palm of his hand. 

“Your turn,” he whispers, looking up at him with those big blue eyes of his. 

Dean clears his throat, thick with unshed tears, and takes a few deep breaths. No one notices, though, too busy with drying their tears from Cas’ speech. Well, here goes nothing. 

“Cas, I could talk for hours about how amazing you are,” he starts, his hands shaking. Cas grabs them immediately and God, he’s just so perfect. “You’ve always been such an important part of my life and I can’t believe I nearly lost you forever that night. Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here with me, getting married to me, loving me. You might need to pinch me later,” he laughs dryly. He swallows. “I have loved you my entire life and I will continue to love you with every fibre of my being. Castiel James Novak, you are my life and my family and my best friend. You can count on me for everything, as you had when we were kids and as you do now. Don’t ever change and don’t ever stop calling me out when I’m an idiot. ‘Cause I am, and when I told you I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I meant it. I want to make you happy, Cas, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course I will, Dean,” Cas whimpers, fresh tears streaming down his face. They pull into each other for a hug and sigh into each other. Cheers erupt from the audience and Eileen butts in with a yelled You may now kiss each other ! And they do. They do, they do, they do. Their hands grasp each other’s faces with holy reverence, their lips pushing and pulling with every breath they take. 

They pull apart to slide the rings on each other. Dean’s mother’s ring compliments the shiny new gold band on Cas’ finger. Dean’s own sports the new gold band as well as the beautiful emerald-laden engagement ring Cas bought him the Christmas after Dean proposed. 

They’re happy in this Barn that once just held the two of them for years but today holds the family they’ve built together in this space. 

And right there where they stood was Holy Ground.