A/N: This is an idea I've been tossing around for a couple months. And...I rewrote this chapter like three (actually more...) times. But I'm FINALLY satisfied enough with it to share it with the world! So here it is. I hope you enjoy it. This first chapter is just the tasting course. The real fun stuff comes in later chapters ;)
As always, please take the time to tell me what you think! Feedback makes a writer happy.

I'm not gay.

I'm not.

I didn't grow up with a feminine side. Not one birthday or Christmas did I ask for Barbies over monster trucks. My hips never did sway 'unnaturally'. If you looked under my mattress when I was a teenager, you wouldn't have found magazines of sweaty men with naked bulging muscles.

I have never once questioned my sexuality.

No matter what my current situation and life choices may be…I am not and will never be…

Gay.

xXxXxXxXx

May 2007

The night before was a blur. The bar, the drinks he'd indulged in, the rugged first contact. And the second tender one.

It was a vivid blur. Every memory came back in a flash that steadily built up into a groan deep in Dean's throat.

As he turned over, Dean half expected to be met with a solid reminder of his mistakes. To his relief, however, he found the other side of the bed blissfully empty. For a second, he thought maybe it had all been a dream. That he had just imagined the mistakes he had made. But there was still that taste on his tongue. And there was still that scent in his nose.

With a deep sigh that ended on a broken note, he propelled himself out from under the covers. He made a vow to change the sheets before going to sleep that night as he stumbled away from the memories.

xXxXxXxXx

Two days later and even the fuzziest details were still coming back to Dean in rough waves. He had tried to go through his days as normal. He was so busy, that he had been sure that wouldn't be difficult. But little bits and pieces kept floating over his mind at the most inopportune moments. It distracted him – caused him to burn dinner, to forget to brush his teeth, to run into a customer at work with a shopping cart.

Right after the incident that ended in a cursing from the old woman, Dean realized just how badly he was hiding this. With a torn noise, he leaned up against the counter and avoided the leveled look from his boss. His best friend. The guy that knew him better than absolutely anyone else. The guy that was currently giving him the least impressed look he'd ever felt.

"Alright, brother. Obviously something's eating at you."

Shrugging, Dean ran his fingers through his hair. A nervous gesture followed by a quick need to fix it back to its original state. "I, uh…. Fuck, Benny, I don't even know how to begin."

Closing time at Lafitte's Hardware store was still a few hours off. Something in Dean's tone must have caused Benny to forget this fact, however, as he was moving to lock the front door and flip the Open sign over without a moment's hesitation. He nodded for the other to follow him to the backroom, settling into his respective lounge chair in their makeshift 'break room'. Benny pulled out the bottle of hidden whiskey and Dean took his seat opposite.

A moment later, the sickly sweet scent of the blunt between Dean's lips filled the little room. It did little to calm his nerves as he held the smoke in his lungs and passed it along. But it was a start.

"Come on, Dean. Spill," Benny grunted through his held breath, raising a knowing brow. They'd known one another for something like ten years. He could see the things bothering Dean eating at his stomach.

Dean made sure to take a deep drink from the bottle before beginning. He made sure he was starting to feel numb before letting loose those words. Before admitting what he had done. What he had never dreamed of doing even once in his lifetime. Never.

"So…," he started, dragging his teeth painfully over his bottom lip. "So…sorta of spent the night with someone recently…."

That didn't sound bad. Dean wasn't telling the whole truth, though. That wasn't the bad part. Back in his day, he had spent many a night with a long string of different women. Those were different times, that was for sure. But spending the night intimately with someone shouldn't make Dean look this nervous. There was more to it. Benny waited in silence for the rest of the confession, stealing the whiskey back with a pointed look when it started to take too long.

"I can't stop thinking about him."

What followed the rest of Dean's declaration was more than silence somehow. It was the equivalent of a pitch black night devoid of stars or pinpricks of light. Benny was frozen, probably trying to make sure he had heard those words correctly. Trying to put all that he knew about Dean Winchester into a beaker and adding this drop in. Watching it erupt. Noting how it didn't seem to be a stable mixture.

Dean was the first to admit that it wasn't a stable mixture for his life. Hence why it had affected him so badly in the past two days.

"What the fuck, Dean? Honestly…what the fuck?"

xXxXxXxXx

Dean wouldn't have been in this bar tonight if life hadn't thrown him a curveball. It was Ben's birthday. His eighth birthday, to be exact. And since he was now eight, apparently, it meant he was now too cool to spend that night with his father. Too old to stick to their ritual of tacos and root beer and Hostess cupcakes in front of their little tube TV tuned into classic Star Trek episodes. He was now old enough to spend the night at a friend's house. No doubt a friend who could actually spend the money of real gifts and real food.

Dean Winchester had been ditched by a child.

It had been so long since Dean had been to a bar and drank into unrecognition. Since that kid was born, really. But it was his first thought of where to go on his lonely night. He could use a drink. It probably wasn't healthy that this was his first thought – to find a vice to turn to. But it had been a long time since he wasn't 'healthy' and so…he figured it could be safe.

Charlie Bradbury had been offering Dean a free drink since the first day they had become friends. It was only logical that he finally took her up on that offer when he desperately needed the company. She offered him more than just one drink that night, though. Taking pity on his struggling-for-rent budget and need for an escape, she just kept pouring.

He really should have told her to stop. That he'd had enough. When his eyesight began to drunkenly swim around the room, he should have taken that as a cue to stop. Maybe then he would have had the capacity to understand his actions.

Within moments of meeting this man, Dean was walking out with him. He had been offered a ride how. There was no way he would risk taking Baby home in his condition, so he accepted without hesitation.

He didn't know this man. Something about his eyes, though, said he could be trusted. They were a cerulean blue that reminded Dean far too much of crystal clear waters. He could get lost in them. Without a single moment of questioning, he handed the keys to the well-taken-care-of Impala sitting out back. His grin was dopey as he did so and for some reason he winked.

As they drove, Dean caught bits and pieces of information. A name – Castiel – that sounded so unique and seemed to fit perfectly. That the kind man worked as an elementary school teacher. That he thought Dean was a great father for longing for that ritual he had been denied.

The Beatles were on the radio as they pulled up in front of Dean's house. It was small and looked like it could fall apart at any second and the lawn should have been mowed months ago. The Beatles reminded Dean of his mother because, oh, was she obsessed. Castiel sang along as he put the car in park in the driveway, not even grimacing at the neighborhood. His voice was beautiful, that much Dean knew he would remember. Even through the alcohol, he could catch that the words flowed perfectly past those chapped lips.

"'And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do. The movement you need is-'"

"My mother used to sing me to sleep with that song," Dean mused, settling further back into the passenger seat and rubbing sleepily at his eyes. The memory made them heavy, instinctively, and it felt nice.

Blushing, Castiel reached out to turn the song down. He looked over at Dean, his keen eyes taking in the full length of him with curiosity. "Should I come in and sing you a lullaby, Dean?" he whispered, so quiet and so hesitant. But hopeful.

His mind addled with undeniable intoxication, Dean found himself nodding. He chuckled, taking the whole thing as a joke. He wasn't even thinking past the fact that this was a kind stranger making sure he arrived home safely. He wasn't thinking. Period.

"Sure," he said with a shrug and opened the door. Getting out of the car proved difficult before he remembered to remove the seatbelt. He laughed it off, thanking the kind stranger for helping him unclasp it before stumbling up to his front door.

Castiel's presence was heavy behind him. He could feel it, even though when he looked over his shoulder, they were standing at least a foot from one another. With a shrug, he struggled through his key ring and somehow (nearly a minute later) managed to unlock the door. "Sorry about the mess," he grunted as he stepped inside, nodding for Castiel to follow him. "We don't get visitors." He flashed a dopey smile, leaning against a wall just inside to steady his shaky vision.

His eyes were closed, but Dean heard the front door shut a moment later. Heard the footsteps as they tentatively entered the house. Heard them stop right in front of him. Soft, cautious fingers slipped up over his jaw and he physically shivered. "Wha-?" was all he managed to get out before he was unable to speak any further.

Castiel was kissing him.

That much Dean could register. There were lips upon his own and they were hot, hungry. He froze, not sure what his next move would be. Running through his mind were a million thoughts. He was trying to figure out how it had come to this. Had he given those signals? Had he somehow hinted at wanting this? Did he give off some sort of gay vibe? Should he kiss back?

Did he want to kiss back?

His reverie softened a moment later when he felt the hesitancy in those fingers caressing his face. As if on instinct, he returned the pressure. Opened his mouth. Allowed this man to glide his tongue along his own as they gave a simultaneous gasp.

Dean wanted to break it off right then. He knew this was wrong. He wasn't gay. This wasn't normal. His father's voice was screaming like an alarm inside his head and his skin crawled. He felt dirty just standing here, kissing this man. It was innocent, and yet it felt like he could never recover from what he was currently doing.

And yet…something in him decided it wasn't right to stop.

xXxXxXxXx

"I didn't sleep with the guy, Benny. I…." Dean lifted his arms and flopped them harshly down against his sides as he let out a puff of smoke. "I just, uh…. It was just a kiss. And then he offered to…suck me off…." The last part, the part the he was most ashamed of, was muttered down towards the concrete floor. He hoped it would be absorbed in the grey mass and that Benny wouldn't hear. That he wouldn't be given something to judge upon.

"Was it at least decent...?"

Before he could even realize it, a smile slipped over Dean's lips. He covered it quickly with a gruff hand dragged across his mouth, but he knew it wasn't fast enough. Benny's smirk said that rather clearly. Which left Dean with one choice to make - lie or elaborate.

The latter option won out; his need to brag was to strong. "Best I've ever received," he chuckled, passing the joint with a suggestively raised brow. "The guy... Fuck, you could tell he knew he was good at it, too. That he'd had practice..."

"Please stop talking."

Flushing a dark red, Dean settled back into his chair.

Benny stole back the whiskey, taking a good, long swig in order to clear the things he had just heard (and might have involuntarily imagined) from his mind. "You know...you said Lisa gave the best BJs after you two smoked together for the first time. Ranted and raved over it, actually." He threw a calculated look over to his friend. Someone he thought he knew so well. "You're still...clean, right?"

If the accusation didn't send such a harsh pang through his heart, Dean would have balked at the idea. Instead, he let out a long breath of air and let his head slam back against the wall behind him. "Nah, man, I'm clean. Honest to God or whatever…I'm clean. I'm not about to throw eight years of my life away for nothing."

After considering his words for a moment, Benny nodded. "Alright, brother. I believe you." He leaned forward, a devilish grin upon his lips. "Mostly because I know you know I'll take that kid from you if you ever touch that shit again."

"Thanks, Benny," Dean chuckled, closing his eyes and taking one last toke. "Speaking of…I should get going. Thanks, though, for listening. And laughing." He smiled. "But why don't you do me a favor and forget I said anything. Kay?"

xXxXxXxXx

Castiel wanted to stay. He wanted to stay so bad. But he knew that if he did, the morning encounter might make it less than worth it.

This guy, Dean, was nice. Real nice. But he was definitely only blindly interested in what they had done. Somewhere before he'd drifted off to sleep, he had whispered something about not being gay. Which…Castiel had already guessed from the moment he laid eyes on him.

But then he took an interest in Cas' timid offer. He hadn't even meant to offer, really. It came out by accident, aided by the three cocktails he'd downed beforehand. He hadn't actually expected to get a positive response to it, either. After the words left his mouth, he'd turned bright red and looked away. Let out a pathetic giggle. It was a joke – at least that's what he told himself. This guy next to him on the stool had obviously been wasted and he was just…playing on that idea.

Until the guy said 'yes' and slipped a set of keys into his front pocket.

Sighing softly, Castiel's fingers slipped into the waxed up tips of Dean's hair. Savoring the last seconds he had.

Pulling himself away a moment later, he took his time getting out of the bed. It wasn't soft and it wasn't clean, but there was an appeal to this room. It was small. Intimate. Cozy and smelling of something that was distinctly man. Cas wasn't really sure why…but he liked it here.

And he liked the way this man tasted.

With that taste he would never have again still lingering on his tongue, Castiel walked swiftly out of the room. He stopped only momentarily, taking the time to jot a note before he left. Just in case Dean wanted to hear from him in the morning. In case he awoke and wondered where Cas had gone. In case he even wanted to remember this night.

In case he would be lucky at least once in his life.

xXxXxXxXx

Hello, Dean.

I left. I'm sure you noticed and I'm sure you're relieved.

I get it. You're not gay. I know that. I respect that.

But if you decide that maybe you could be? Or that you want to try it? Call me.

-that guy whose name you probably don't care to remember…

The note was a bitter reminder. One that Dean didn't need. He sucked his teeth, staring at it again. For the millionth time, perhaps. He remembered the guy's name.

Castiel.

What kind of terrible parent names their kid Castiel? It was pretentious. The guy probably came from more money than he knew what to do with.

"Goodbye, Mr. Homo Moneybags…." Without even looking, Dean tossed the note. On the back was the man's number. He'd looked at it so many times, he was sure he had memorized it. But if he tossed it away, it was almost like forgetting it even existed. He could cast it out of his mind.

Two days ago…. That thing he had gone along with was a mistake. It was a mistake he'd rather not have reoccur. His talk with Benny had sealed that for him. So he'd throw out the note and the phone number and forget it ever happened. It was just a thing he did when he was drunk. Half of his life was things he did while drunk that he conveniently 'forgot' about.

This could be just like any of those times.

With time….

He hoped.