If you asked Dean who came first in his life, he would say Sammy. Sometimes he wondered if parents felt the same way about their kids than he did about his brother. At others, he thought that Sam certainly felt different about him, maybe even irritated whenever Dean got all protective or too stern. This made him depressed and once again he felt like a parent, albeit a very young one. He didn't even know if he was making it right as his own father was a shining absent figure, not even providing for them correctly. Dan had been a bartender, a mechanic, a babysitter, a fruit-picker, a dock loader, even a freaking maid... just so that he could put food on the table. He hated getting mail, always worried it would be a bill (sometimes his father would surprise him like that, giving their address and expecting Dean to fork the money) or even an injunction to pay (strangely, this brought on more adrenalin in his blood than any physical threats had ever done.) A cold shiver would run through him turning his guts into mush and bringing out his worse fear: losing Sammy.

So, on some days, when Sam was at school and he didn't have a shift at one of the two jobs he currently held, he would sometimes sit at the docks and look at the liner that were sailing off to distant shores, wishing he was on one of them, living that shitty life behind him as well as all memories of his parents.

But he knew it was just a dream and that work was as exhausting and hard to keep in faraway countries or tropical islands. It felt good to take a break, though, so he kept sitting on a metallic bench, sometimes with a sandwich, always with his headphones on his old as hell Walkman, his favorites tapes on the verge of giving up. He had a pencil ready for that case.

One day, he noticed that he wasn't alone. There wasn't much activity around him, most loading or passenger boarding was taking place elsewhere. You could watch the sea, but it wasn't a vantage point in any ways, so Dean was curious what the other guy was doing here (well, expect from eating a sandwich, obviously) He also wondered how such a thin trench coat could prevent getting cold. Dean was wearing his loyal leather coat, zipped in an uncool way because of the icy wind that swept up the docks.

He kept seeing him after that, always at the same hours. Maybe he was an accountant? Dean had seen the suit under the coat and thought it looked good on the man, even though the tie was looking as if there had been a fight between it and its owner and it had won. He also saw two blue eyes, mirroring the sea on a sunny day perfectly and spiky hair that danced in the merest wimp of air.

Dean's daydreams started shifting.

"I'm almost an adult, Dean! You don't get to tell me how to lead my life anymore!"

"I'm aware Sammy, but would you rather I watch you make mistakes and not say anything? What kind of a brother would I be?"

"A real one!"

The hurt had been so damn harsh, he had fled to his quiet place, hoping he wouldn't make a spectacle of himself and cry in public.

He didn't because, once again, the guy was there. Dean sat with a stony face, his leg bouncing a little, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Maybe if he asked nicely, they would hire him on a boat and Sam would realize what security exactly Dean had been providing...

He was torn from his angry thoughts by a question:

"Are you okay?"

He turned, slowly, too surprised at a stranger addressing him to tell him to mind his own business.

"I'm fine, thanks." it was difficult to lie to such a pair of pure blue eyes, but Dean didn't want to talk.

"Somehow, I don't think you are."

Dean wanted to bite now. He half-growled his reply:

"I'm sorry but I don't remember you being my mother. Or anyone I have to answer to."

The man looked hurt and confused at the same time. Did he think Dean and he were kind of friends because they hung out at the same place? They had never spoken, for fuck's sake.

But something in the man's face, or maybe the fact that he had fantasized about him just a little tiny bit this last few weeks, made him swallow his anger and try and act civilized:

"It's nothing important. I just had a fight and I didn't want to stay home. I mean, I love Sam, but there are moments he goes way too far with my patience..."

There was a small smile in response, then:

"I understand. It was the same for me and Balthazar. That's why we broke it off."

Dean looked in incomprehension, then it dawned on him:

"No... no... Sam, he's my brother. I'm the one looking after him and he's a pain in the ass. A teenager, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry for assuming... I've never dealt with teenagers myself, at least as an adult, and I was myself quite tranquil through my teenage years."

Dean looked at the slack and all-around accountant look and smirked:

"I believe that, man."

"Castiel."

Huh? Dean was the one getting confused now, not really getting where this conversation was headed.

"Gesundheit?" There was a sigh.

"My name. It's Castiel Novak. May I learn yours?"

Dean resisted the urge to answer 'You may' in a stuffy tone. He smiled and extended his hand to the other side of the bench:

"I'm Dean Winchester. Nice meeting you."

Cas-something looked triumphant. He was easy to please.

"I'm glad I could make you smile. You're very handsome when you do."

Dean's mind came to a full stop. This sounded like flirting. And here he was, pissed as hell, his mind still focused on Sammy, missing an opportunity he had very much wanted.

"Can I ask you something, Cas?"

"Cas...? Oh, sure!"

"What do you come here for? It's really not park-like..."

"Well," Cas looked away towards the sea "so do you, after all."

Dean shrugged:

"I used to work here. Well, rather over there." he pointed to the crane next to the cargo ships. Cas nodded. He remained silent so Dean decided to be the one pressing this time:

"You haven't answered my question, just saying..." He winked. Cas' face seemed to melt. He looked very vulnerable, suddenly:

"My ex, Balthazar, the one I told you about."

"Yes?"

"He's French. When we broke up, he went home and that's... over there." He gestured toward the ocean.

Dean didn't laugh. He understood:

"You miss him?"

"I did, yes. But, that was at first. Now, I come for a different reason."

Dean's heart was beating hard against his chest. He swallowed and moved an inch to the right.

"Yeah? What... What reason?"

Cas just looked at him. His face was much nearer than it should be. He must have moved a foot on the left.

"Dean, can I ask you out?"

"We are outside, Cas." This got Dean a slap on the arm. His skin trembled and heated at the touch.

"Can I have your phone number, then?"

"You can. It's possible."

Cas was waiting and Dean wondered if he would get it. He did:

"Assbutt."

Dean burst out laughing. It felt good. Years of stress were rolling down his throat, it was like a powerful massage, a way of letting go.

But because of that, he didn't notice Castiel get up and leave until he heard him say:

"Sorry for trying. Have a good day."

"Cas! Come back, I wasn't..." Dean finished, sadder than he had been on arrival : "...mocking you."

He had no comfort to find from the dock anymore, so he went home. It was spotless. There was a smell that made Dean perk up : pie. He didn't remember making it. He opened the oven door and there it was, in all its fruity glory.

Sam appeared at his bedroom door, looking guilty:

"I didn't mean it. I was... kind of saying it to Dad."

"Dad" Dean looked around in alarm "Is he home?"

"No, calm down. No news, nothing. I just wish he would be... you know... a real dad. That way we could just be like all brothers and I wouldn't feel so bad that you're throwing your life away for me."

Dean wasn't crying. That was because he was freezing his face as forcefully as he could. Sam saw through him and hugged him. He even ventured:

"Does that mean I'm not grounded for smoking with Ruby?"

"Nice try, Sammy. Go do your homework."

Sam shrugged:

"It's all done. I wanted to show you I'm responsible."

Dean was touched and considered lifting the punishment. He didn't, though, because, even when he tried to deny it, he was a parent and Sam needed to learn.

That night, he tossed in the bed, cursing himself. It was just him to meet a gorgeous, kind man and mess things up from the start. He punched his pillow and walked to the kitchen for a piece of pie.

The next day, he went to the docks but he was alone. He took the last piece of pie, looked at it with longing and wrapped it in a paper napkin on which he had written "Sorry for being a dick. Here's my number... I would love to go out." Maybe the seagulls would eat it.

He went to the repair shop for his shift and almost broke the car he was working on. He threw away the crank handle and went to the bathroom, to sit on the john's lid and cry.

His boss hinted at firing him if it happened again and the fear settled itself in Dean's stomach, like it never left.

At 10 pm, he got a phone-call. It was an unknown number. He almost prayed while answering

"Hello."

"Dean? It's Castiel. Well, Cas."

"Oh, thank God!"

"I thought you weren't interested and I'm still very sensitive to rejection. I should have stayed."

"I'm sorry I laughed. It's just... I've never heard this swearword before. It's glorious."

"Assbutt?" Dean bit his lips. There was a chuckle on the line.

"It appears I'm as bad at swearing as at flirting. I've never hit on anyone before."

"Didn't need to?" Dean winked at the wall and slapped his forehead at his stupidity.

"Well Balthazar was the one to seduce me. I was flattered. Never dated before that."

Dean was speechless but not for long:

"Time to change that, then. One lame boyfriend is not a good game record."

"What is a good number then?"

Dean breathed in. He could do this. He could win over the man with his cockiness.

"I'd say two."

"That seems about right."

They met at the docks. Cas still wore his trench coat and Dean his leather one. They stood awkwardly until Cas said:

"So, I was thinking..."

"Yeah?" Castiel was blushing now. Dean wanted to ravish him on the bench. But the dock workers would see and they needed to get to know each other a little.

So they went to a café. Dean ate pie, while Cas drank some Chaï (and Dean didn't tease it for that. After Castiel's storm out, the previous time, he was utterly cautious with humor. Maybe later.) Cas said he was a University accountant, so Dean had been right. When it was his time to share, he hesitated. How should he present it? He tried not to:

"I'm in between things right now... Kind of looking for my path."

But Castiel, it seemed, didn't go for bullshit. Which meant Dean had no ammunitions against him, ever:

"That's not very clear Dean. Do you think I'll judge your line of work?"

Dean looked down at the crumbs of pie on the table and used his thumb to pick them all up:

" It's not one line, that's the thing. I have jobs, plenty of them. They don't last because they're mostly temp. I'm working at a car repair shop and it's more a long-run deal, but my boss is not easy to deal with and I'm not sure he'll keep me."

Cas seemed a little distant after that. Dean didn't blame him. He was pathetic. He got up:

"I should go. Hope you find someone good Cas. You deserve it, like a lot."

"Dean!" Castiel had run to the door and was looking daggers at him:

"What is the matter? Did I say something wrong? Am I that bad at dating?"

Dean wanted to puke but he managed:

"No, Cas. I thought that you despised me and, well... I'm not that strong."

Suddenly Castiel was hugging him and Dean felt he was dying. His blood pounded hard on his temple, his head swam in a foggy state and if he didn't shed a tear now, his chest would burst.

"Is it because of Sammy?" Cas whispered.

Dean nodded against the man's shoulder. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to feel uncomfortable and aroused and emotional and...

Castiel took a step back, took his hand in his and led him to a couch. Once Dean was seated, he went to the counter and came back with a hot chocolate. Dean grimaced but took a gulp. The sweet taste soften his throat and he felt better and ridiculous. He had blamed Cas for overreacting and misreading him and yet he was doing the same.

The result was that they dropped the masks and pretense and just opened up. Cas' lips took all of Dean's line of vision and the inches between their knees disappeared slowly. The conversation faded into the kiss, naturally. Dean was in Heaven. He felt good, he felt wanted.

A few days later, Dean went back to his bench and saw Cas. It was enough to lift the dreary feeling that he still had at work. His boss was even more demanding, criticizing everything he did. Dean was trying to be as efficient as possible but maybe it just couldn't be. It was his first stable position, and it was turning out not to be that stable. He hesitated but told Castiel, because if he couldn't tell him (and he couldn't talk to Sam about it, no way he was upsetting the kid more), who could he tell?

Cas frowned and looked away. Dean felt glum, wondering if Castiel always did that when he didn't know what to do. On the other hand, Dean himself wasn't a good example of knowing how to act or not mess up. After a few minute, Cas slid next to him and brushed Dean's face:

"Sorry, I was deep in thoughts. I've missed your handsome features and your smile."

"We could we go out again."

Castiel looked down at the bench and murmured:

"Or in."

The implication made Dean's groin heat up.

"Sure. At your place? Not that I don't want you to meet Sam, but..."

"Of course, we just met, that would be unadvisable. Plus I tend to be loud."

Dean kissed him silent. They got up, still kissing and pushed each other's to Dean's car. Cas came on foot. Dean resisted the appeal of the back seat and drove with a boner.

Castiel turned out to be quite forceful in the bedroom. Dean had been with two other guys before (after he accepted the idea of being bi) and had always topped. Yet, he found himself spread out on the bed, two fingers in him and high frequency whines escaping his own mouth. It turned out Castiel was amazing at sex and Dean never wanted to top anymore.

About two weeks later, as he was panting and looking frantically for his shirt so that he could be home before Sam, Cas made a very serious expression and coughed to catch Dean's attention. Tons of cold bucket of metaphorical water poured onto Dean as he waited, petrified, for the break-up. He didn't want it, he wanted to be with Cas, always, but it was a two-persons decisions and Cas must have been patient enough before deciding Dean was not for...

"Dean."

"Mmmm?"

"I have something important to tell you, but I don't know how you'll react."

Still not crying, Dean was very good at fighting it.

Cas went on:

"Are you very attached to your mechanic position?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, would you mind changing jobs again? What with your boss being so harsh and you?"

Was it an ultimatum as in 'I can't be dating a mere mechanic"?

"Because, you know I work at the University a few streets away? Apparently there is a position for... a handyman. They're looking for someone strong and good at repairs and stuff."

"A janitor?"

"Sort of. In fact there's a three-persons team and they all quit so they need three new ones and one of those will be the one in-command. I suggested your name... Are you mad?"

Dean's mind was processing. First, Castiel wasn't breaking up.

Second, Castiel wasn't breaking up. Another good point.

Third, he was helping Dean and yet seemed to think he screwed up.

What didn't help was that this time Dean was crying. Sobbing.

In between hiccups, he managed:

"Thanks, you're so great. I don't deserve you..."

Castiel looked relieved and kissed his wet cheeks and neck. Dean was late at home, but at least he got to introduce Cas to Sam. His brother looked curiously at the accountant that was so different than the people Dean usually hooked up with. Then they started talking and suddenly Castiel was Sam's new best friend. Dean let them to their nerdy discussions about Tolstoï or something and took a beer out of the fridge.

In his mind, when he though of the future, it was always about the next day, how to get to it, how to survive, how to distract himself. But now, the future extended, to the next week and month and even year. And Castiel was in it, every step of the way.