Sam walked in the door of the single family home, letting it swing shut behind him, and tried to sneak up the stairs before anyone saw him. He almost made it too, but Dean came around the corner, stuffing his face with cherry pie.
"Sammy! You've got to try this one! It's the best one yet!" He enthusiastically held out a second plate and waited, counting the seconds until Sam could no longer resist the truly alluring aroma of the sticky filling and the sweet, flaky crust.
Sam sniffed the air appreciatively. "Smells good, Dean. I'll be right back. Gotta put my books down before I break my back. Can you put ice cream on it? Please?"
There was silence behind him, and he silently crossed his fingers that Dean would accept his excuse and let him go, but he knew that the effect was not quite the same without his puppy eyes in the mix.
Still, he couldn't turn around, and when there was still no sound from behind him, he shrugged his shoulders and forced a cheerful voice. "I'll take that as a yes, jerk." He was about to keep heading up the steps when he felt a hand on his backpack.
"Turn around, Sammy," Dean ordered in a quiet, no arguments, tone.
Sam sighed. "Why? I just want to go upstairs!" he whined.
"Sammy."
Burning with shame, Sam slowly turned, but he misjudged and slipped off the step he was on. He started dropping toward the floor, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean shove a forkful of pie into his mouth, shift the plates to one arm, and shoot the other arm out to catch him.
The balancing was a little shaky, (there were two plates of pie to be protected at all costs, after all) but Sam leaned against his brother gratefully.
"I'll take that pie now?" he asked, venturing a look into Dean's face.
As he'd suspected, Dean was temporarily preoccupied ensuring that the sanctity of the pies had been upheld. He still had a solid grasp on the collar of Sam's shirt, though, as Sam quickly discovered.
"Not so fast, kid," Dean warned, heading for the kitchen and dragging Sammy behind him. He carefully deposited the pies on the counter with a last, longing glance before walking Sam back out into the dining room and sitting him down.
"Let me see the damage."
Sam reluctantly lifted his head and avoided Dean's sharp gaze as he perused the forming black eye and the various scrapes and bumps.
"Do you have a teacher note?" Dean asked, turning away to get some ice from the freezer.
Sam shook his head, but Dean was facing the other way and didn't see it. When Dean got back, he knelt in front of Sam's chair and held the ice up to his face. "Do you, Sammy?"
Sam winced as the frozen peas came into contact with his bruised face. "No." he answered shortly.
"Why not?"
Sam shrugged. "Fighting with bookshelves is clumsy, not criminal, Dean."
Dean's hand trembled, and he motioned for Sam to hold the ice himself while he stood up and walked out of the room quickly, shaking his head vigorously. He came back a minute later and sat down in another chair, looking at Sam sadly.
"Sammy, we don't live like that anymore, kid. I don't want to hear that line ever again, okay? I know I trained the hell out of you to keep you from getting hurt over it, but that's over, do you hear me? It's over. We're going to be okay, and it is not dangerous to be honest anymore. I promise, it's going to be just fine!" Tears were rolling down his face, but he didn't even care.
Sam sniffed a little and nodded soberly. "Why, Dean?" he asked.
"I don't fucking know, Sam," Dean whispered back. "I just know that it will never, ever happen again. And I know that I need to hear exactly what happened to you. I spent the last thirteen years making sure that you never had to go to school with a black eye or a broken jaw. I, god, I shouldn't have let my guard down when we got here. This is my fault, Sammy, I'm so sorry." He dropped his head and shook with silent tears.
Sam leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "No, Dee. This isn't your fault. Please don't think this is your fault! I got into a fight in the library, and it was all my fault, I promise. I wasn't even part of the argument, but I couldn't just stand there, okay?"
Dean took a deep breath to steady his voice and looked up. "What happened, Sammy?"
"I was in the library looking for a book for my research project, these three other boys were in there. One of them is gay, and the other two started teasing him and calling him names and throwing books at him, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I lobbed one of my hard cover books at one of them. So then the two bullies started fighting me, and then after we knocked a bookshelf over, they took off pretty quick, and the other kid that I was trying to help slapped me and told me that he wasn't a pussy and he didn't need some macho scrawny ass straight kid to defend his honor or anything like that."
Dean hissed through his teeth and frowned sharply. "What happened next?"
Sam shrugged. "You know how it works. The librarian came over, I told her how clumsy I was and helper her pick everything up. Can I have some pie now?"
Dean groaned. "If you come home with a single bruise more, I'm telling Bobby. I'll uphold your story for now, but you have to understand something, alright Sam? Don't take it personal. Most people are never grateful to be rescued. Some of them don't even want it. Just be careful, alright? Don't get into any more fights for other people. As much as I admire your selflessness, you'll get yourself killed, alright Squirt?"
Sam nodded and Dean ruffled his hair as he stood up to get the pie.
"Thanks for the ice, jerk," Sam offered, a half smirk on his face.
Dean turned in the doorway to the kitchen wearing a matching grin. "Anytime, bitch!"
"Language," Bobby growled from the front door. Both boys looked sheepish, but they knew that he wasn't actually angry, so they only held their heads down for a second, then Dean visibly brightened.
"Do you want some pie, Bobby?" he asked cheerfully. "I've almost got the recipe right!"
Once Sam was finally busy doing his homework, Dean told Bobby an excuse about needing some fresh air, too much pie, walking it off. Considering how much pie Dean had eaten before Sammy got home, it was completely believable. Dean had caught Sammy about to point out that he'd never seen Dean too hungry for pie before, and he'd shaken his head silently.
If Sam wanted Bobby to be brought into this, he could go ahead and ask about why Dean had lost his appetite.
In the meantime, Dean explained how he'd had to taste test each creation, and he didn't want anyone to eat the bad ones and embarrass him, so he'd had no choice but to eat every single pie. (He casually left out the fact that the other tries were all attempted at various times over the past three years. That didn't change the data too much, did it?)
He was just walking aimlessly around with no real goal in mind, casually kicking stones down the sidewalk.
Inside his head, he was berating himself, cussing himself out, and comparing his existence to the stones he was kicking: not good for much but some people enjoy throwing them around.
He was very resolutely not looking up, and eventually he stopped actually focusing on his feet and just kept walking.
In the back of his head, he knew that he was walking in circles, which made him feel better about living his fantasy of running away, so he just kept going.
Until he ran smack into a person, and tried to stumble back quickly and re focus on everything, but he moved back to fast and started tripping over his own feet. The other person reacted faster and more smoothly than Dean did, throwing strong arms out to catch him and pulling him upright, which happened to be flush against him.
Dean blinked, slowly, and let his head stop spinning, only to open his eyes and be royally confused by the vision mere centimeters from his face. "How hard did I hit my head?" he asked.
The boy in front of, or more accurately, pressed up all over him, laughed delightedly. "What do you mean?"
"I have to be imagining things," Dean breathed. "Hallucinating or some shit, right? That happens with a concussion. There's just no way that you actually look like that!"
The boy cocked his head, his eyes still laughing. "Like what? What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing," Dean answered immediately. "That's the thing. You're fucking perfect."
"I hate to break it to you, kid, but you didn't hit your head," the boy smiled back, and of course his eyes were blue. Could he get any better? "I have to admit, though, as often as I tell my roommate that people are falling head over heels for me, this is the first time anyone has ever taken it literally!"
"I can't imagine why. It certainly has its perks!" Dean answered, his mind still reeling and not quite processing everything that was being said.
The other guy smiled back once again. "Now that's what I like to hear. How about we go over here and let you sit down because you seem a little bit very much out of it right now, okay?"
Dean nodded and let himself be guided over to what looked like a big green cube sitting in the grass a few feet off the sidewalk. He was supremely relieved to find that the other boy still had to use his well-defined arm muscles to guide him.
"So, we're just going to kind of sit here awkwardly until you really come back to yourself, okay?"
Dean nodded, star struck. "Are you sure you aren't an angel? Because I swear you had a halo," he added helpfully.
"That was the street light," the other boy assured him. "And I'm very certain that I am human, although I was named after an angel."
Dean's eyes widened, and he laughed in delight. "Can I guess your name?"
The boy shrugged, and Dean began rattling off every angel name he'd ever heard of, which definitely didn't go over well with the other boy, who apparently knew a person with each of the names Dean was spouting.
As he made his way through Christian lore, though, Dean's mind was slowly returning to normal, remembering countless nights studying random trivia for John to fight monsters with, remembering John getting arrested and Dean's bruises getting catalogued and treated, remembering the bruises on Sammy's face.
With a start, he trailed off mid "Gabri-" although he wasn't fast enough to miss the slight smile on the boy's face at that name, and he determined to come back to it sometime.
For now, though, he was very embarrassed. "Um," he shifted around nervously.
The other boy's smile spread across his face. "Glad to have you back," he greeted Dean. "Should I introduce myself, or would you like to keep guessing?"
Dean shook his head, his face burning. Sure, the boy was gorgeous (Dean didn't even know he had a type until he met this guy, and now if he had to describe his type, he would just use a picture of him [Note to self: get a pic of this guy to show people!]), but he hadn't meant to tell him so as thoroughly as he had.
"I'm sorry," he began apologizing profusely, but the other boy waved it off.
"Trust me, if you'd been at some of my roommate's house parties, you would just be relieved that you were sober."
"That just means that I'm responsible for every word that came out of my mouth," Dean wailed but at a subdued volume.
The other guy flashed another megawatt smile. "I will be more than willing to pretend to forget everything you said, if that's what you want. That's assuming that you didn't mean it, of course. In the meantime, mind if we start over?"
Dean didn't think his cheeks could burn any hotter, but once again, science proved him wrong. He shook his head, not entirely sure what he was responding to, but less sure of what to say.
The other boy held out his hand firmly. "Castiel Novak, never Cassie, occasionally Cas," he introduced himself.
"Dean Winchester, and you have a long ass name," Dean answered drily, shaking the hand he was being offered.
"It's not the only thing," Cas smirked lasciviously.
Dean froze, confused. Was he actually flirting with Dean? Unsure of how to respond, he just laughed nervously and dropped Cas's hand to wipe his on his pants.
"What's wrong, Dean? Not used to your crushes being reciprocated?" Cas teased lightly.
Dean shook his head before he could stop himself, and found his space being invaded once again.
Unsurprisingly, even in the right head space, being pressed up against Cas was incredible.
"Can I tell you a secret, Dean?" Cas asked, his voice practically right next to Dean's ear.
Dean nodded dumbly.
"I'm not the only incredibly attractive person here right now, and I almost never actually say that and mean it," Cas continued. "You, though. God, you might actually be perfect, and the things I want to do to you, well, most people would want a formal date or two at least first."
Going on impulse for what may have been the first time in his life, Dean grabbed the last shreds of his courage and pulled back just slightly so they were face to face. "I really hope kissing is on that list, because if it isn't, this is going to be really embarrassing," he said by means of warning before quickly pressing his lips to the other boy's.
Quickly was the plan, but Cas responded so quickly, so intoxicatingly, that Dean couldn't find it in him to pull back, and for a random moment, he had to wonder if they would be stuck like this forever, which he found he didn't mind at all.
In reality, it was only a matter of seconds before Cas pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk at the blank expression on Dean's face. "That gives me a whole lot of wonderful ideas," he stated, leering.
Dean smiled shyly, not sure what to do now.
"Do you want to, uh, come see where I live?" Cas offered, the seemingly innocent offer anything but considering, well, a few things actually.
Dean bit his lip nervously. "I don't know," he whispered, looking down.
Cas shrugged. "Alright," he agreed. "How about we meet up again, then? Because I don't want this to be goodbye. I hope you can live with that."
Dean looked up quickly, hope flaring in his chest again. "Yeah," he breathed.
Cas frowned. "Come on, Dean. I know you only just met me, but did you really think I'd be such a pig that if you didn't want to put out on what wasn't even a first date, I'd just leave you and never want to meet up?"
Dean bit his lip again, and Cas brushed the lip out from between his teeth with his thumb.
"Hey, look, meet me back here tomorrow, same time?"
Dean nodded hesitantly, and Cas beamed.
"May I kiss you goodnight, Dean Winchester?" he asked, very formally considering how entirely he was invading Dean's space.
Dean nodded, a shy smile spreading over his own face.
This kiss was gentle, lingering, and Dean felt a keen sense of loss when Cas stepped back and let go of him.
"I'm thinking tomorrow might need to hurry up and get here," Cas said in a rough voice that sent legit sparks through Dean.
He nodded ruefully but began to back away slowly. He really should get home before Bobby got worried.
Cas tilted his head. "Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever it was that you were worried about," Cas shrugged. "If you want to talk, I'd love to listen. And if not, I hope it works itself out, alright?"
Dean nodded, a small smile on his face again.
"Goodnight, Cas," he said quietly.
Cas smiled back. "Night, Dean," he answered before they turned and went their separate ways.
Cas laid awake in his bed, a myriad of thoughts flying through his head. He was fully accustomed to taking whatever he wanted, and in that moment, he'd wanted to kiss the other boy. Of course, it was always nice when the other boy responded like Dean had, but this time just felt different. He certainly wasn't regretting anything that had happened, it was one of the best experiences of his life, and he was anxious to repeat it.
The thing that was catching him off guard was exactly what he kept remembering. It wasn't all the passionate, heavy making out; it was the soft, tender goodbye kisses.
He rolled over and punched the pillow halfheartedly. This wasn't him! He was the world renowned player who played his cards, got his cheeks, and took off without ever involving feelings.
He did almost all of his dealings in the dark, and he preferred it that way. He didn't have to make eye contact with anyone, and he never had to pretend that nothing had happened. It was a very adult process, as he had laughed about with Meg one night.
Meg was the one exception to his rule, until now. She was a great roommate, she'd been a decent girlfriend, and now she was the perfect occasional bedmate.
They had a very loose, no strings attached relationship that consisted of a series of booty calls, an occasional pizza date, and a monthly budget meeting (with Gabriel), none of which interfered with each other.
She had always known about his other girlfriends and boyfriends, and they had always known about her. She was a given in any relationship, and he was never with anyone who would have a problem with that.
Yeah, he was good with the smooth talking stuff that got him laid so often, and he was incredible with the follow up, and he had a way of breaking up with people that didn't leave them thinking that there was anyone to blame or that there was anything salvageable.
But now, he was already considering telling Meg that they'd have to cut the last two words off of their friends with benefits relationship. He was dying to memorize what color Dean's eyes were, and he wanted to know just how flushed his face got when Cas did, well, anything. He wanted to have an entire binder full of Dean's reactions and descriptions of how he looked and felt and tasted.
He wanted to fall asleep with Dean in his arms, he wanted to be allowed to call his brother Sammy (word got around fast when it came to hostility like Dean showed if anyone dared to try that), and he never wanted to let Dean down or let him go.
He heard the door open quietly, because he had considerate, cautious roommates, and he decided to do something about this. Slipping out of bed (and quickly checking that he had, in fact, worn clothes tonight), he left his room and snuck up behind Gabe in the kitchen.
"What, Cas?" he asked without turning around, a second before Cas could jump up and scare the shit out of him.
"How did you know it was me?" Cas pouted, dropping into a seat at the table.
"Do I have to go through this again?" Gabe asked, unpacking his lunch box and wiping it down with a damp sponge.
"Yes," Cas answered resolutely.
"Castiel James, I swear to god, you might as well be my brother at this point."
"I don't think so," Cas frowned. "Mike and I look nothing alike, and Luce is way too cruel for me to even believe that you would compare us!"
Gabe sighed. "I wasn't trying to compare you to one of my existing brothers, Cas. I was just going to add you to the ranks."
"Sweet! So I don't have to be Raf this time?" Cas asked, tiredly excited.
Gabe dropped his head and breathed out very, very slowly before answering. "The only reason I suggested it in the first place is because you are just as fucking annoying as every last one of those shits, Cas. What the hell do you want at three in the morning?" He held up a hand as Cas opened his mouth. "And before you answer, think good and hard on the fact that I am one hundred percent straight and completely certain that I will not be questioning it any time in the future."
"No, nothing like that," Cas quickly explained. "Well, not with you, at least."
Gabe sighed and pulled out a chair next to Cas. "Did Meg finally turn you down?" he asked, sitting down heavily.
"Please," Cas snorted. Then he turned serious. "Really, Gabe, I have a problem."
"What's wrong, kid?" Gabe asked.
"I think I might be in love," Cas admitted. It sounded strange out loud, but it was the only thing he could think of that could do this to him.
"What makes you think so?" Gabe asked.
"Well, all I can think about is seeing him again, and I feel super lonely but even hanging out with you isn't making it better because I keep wondering how he would respond to things that you say and it makes me a little sad that I don't get to find out because he wasn't here with me to hear them. And I kind of really want to see him in the daylight and find out what color his eyes are, and does his hair have highlights, and does his skin have freckles? And then I want to count his freckles and I want to compliment him until all the freckles disappear, and I want to drag him to a mirror and tell him how pretty he is until he can't help but see himself the way I see him. And I kind of want to be the only person he ever vents to again, and I really want to go fix all of his problems so that instead of venting to me, all he has to talk about is how happy he is. I really just want to see him smile, and I'd love to see him smile at me, but I'm kind of afraid to see him smile because of me because if I ever managed to be the reason his face lit up, I think that I would be so happy I might cry. Am I going crazy, Gabe?"
"Yes," Gabe answered immediately. "But in a good way, I'm sure, Cassie. Sounds like you definitely have it bad! Does he like you?"
Cas grinned. "Considering how fast he responded,"
"Hey," Gabe cut in warningly.
"To my kiss!" Cas finished dramatically, laughing at the relieved look on Gabe's face. "Come on, Gabe, I wasn't about to do anything else! He's a special one, he deserves way, way better. He deserves to be worshipped and have statues made in his honor that I can become a slave to for life before I'll deserve to even touch him again." Cas trailed off, a dreamy look in his eyes.
"Jesus, Cas, I don't think even I was that bad!" Gabe laughed, poking at Cas's face and squeezing his lips together, but eliciting no response from the star struck kid. "Think your parents would like him?"
Cas nodded. "They'd adore the shit out of him. He's super sweet and respectful and just plain adorable, and he makes me happy, so they can't have any complaints!"
Gabe sighed. "I'm going to bed, kid. You go do your dream thing in your own bed, and don't tell me anything if Dean makes a surprise appearance and you do a different dream thing, okay?" He stood up but waited.
"Okay," Cas agreed, barely paying attention. Gabe smirked and waited some more. "Wait, what? How did you- were you- when did-?"
Now laughing out loud, Gabe made his way to his room. "I'm a smart cookie, Castiel. Get used to it!"
"Good night to you too, you dick head," Cas muttered.
"Aw, you know you love me," Gabe teased, turning back to squish Cas in a protective hug.
Cas returned the hug, of course, and after a second, he clung just a little tighter, and Gabe rubbed his back gently.
"Hey, bud, what is it?" he asked softly.
Cas lifted his head, a vulnerable look that hardly anyone ever saw plastered across his face. "Do you think they'd mind, Gabe?"
Gabe didn't even have to ask anymore, he just hugged Cas a little tighter. "They wouldn't want you to stay sad forever, Cassie." The nickname carried more affection than teasing now. "You said it yourself. All they want is for you to be happy, and if Dean makes you happy, they won't mind at all."
"But," Cas shifted nervously and dropped his head again, just too late for Gabe to miss the suspicious shine in his eyes. "But sometimes," he continued in a choked voice, "when I'm happy, I start to forget. I don't want to forget, Gabe." He sniffled miserably.
"Aw, buddy. Listen to me, little dude. It's okay if you stop remembering all the bad stuff, okay? And if you don't entirely remember all of the good, that's okay, too. They understand, and they don't mind at all. I know you want to keep seeing them, and you want to hear their voices, but time is going to go on whether you want it to or not, and they won't be as clear. But you know what? You'll still have them. You have them inside you, you'll see them in the mirror, in different people in your life, in every little thing. You might not see them, and you might not hear them, but you will never lose them."
He stopped talking and let Cas cry like he hadn't since the night after the funeral. This time was different, though. These were healing tears. These were the beginning of a new life. No, it wasn't the life he'd ever want or choose for himself, but it was a life that he could live with, and for the first time in over a year, Gabe finally felt like his "little brother" really could survive this. If Dean was the key, he hoped the other kid never left.