The colorful room smelled of cinnamon and the delicious meal Mary and Sam had prepared earlier. Dean and Castiel sat together on the long rectangular table, and Sam and Bobby sat across from them. At one end of the table, John waited and watched as Mary set the plates in front of everybody, not once offering to help.

No wonder she was unhappy.

Mary took her seat at the head of the table and started eating.

Confused, Sam cleared his throat. "Mom? You're not going to give a toast this year?"

"No, sweetheart," Mary said, chewing on her food. "I'm really hungry."

Sam nodded. "Well, I have something to say." He looked to Dean, and Dean gave him a small nod of encouragement.

"What is it, Samuel?" John asked, carefully.

Sam went from frightened to smug as soon as John butted into the conversation. Dean thought Sam would need more of a motivation to say the truth, but it turned out he didn't. "I dropped out of law school last semester because the last thing I want is to be a lawyer."

"What the hell?" John said, sounding as though someone had gutted him. "Sam, you can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am," Sam said. "I've been using all of the tuition money to save up for a coffee shop I'm going to open. I'm giving the down payment when I go back. It's all worked out, dad. I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

Mary laughed, spitting out the wine she had been sipping on. "That's so great, Sam. Do you have a name for the shop already?"

"It's going to be called Crossroad Blues Coffee Shop," Sam said with a smile. "I might already have an investor lined up, but we haven't settled anything yet."

John hit his fist on the table, making everybody jump up on their seats. "You're damn wrong if you think I am going to let you drop out of law school after three years. You're going to reenroll, get your fucking degree, and go and make me and your mother proud."

"Speak for yourself, John," Mary said, bitterly. "Sam and Dean make me very proud just the way they are. I'm not going to force them to live the life you couldn't have just so you have something to live for."

Scowling, John clenched his jaw. "Mary, what is wrong with you?"

Mary downed her glass of wine, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You really want to know what's wrong with me, John? Is that really what you want?"

"Yes!" he shouted, leaning forward. "For fuck's sake, you're as nuts as your children."

"For starters, I hate sleeping on the same bed with you night after night, because you snore too loud and you push me to the edge, leaving me no space to stretch my arms out. You suck the chicken bones for a good twenty minutes after you finish eating, and it is absolutely disgusting! And you leave your dirty underwear on the sink like a trophy, but you expect me to clean up after you without a single complaint, you asshole."

"Oh, so you think you're perfect?" John demanded, getting out of his chair, glaring down at Mary. "Is that why you want to pretend our lives are so great? Is that why you decided that we all like each other enough to spend another Christmas stuck in this suffocating place? I go along with every stupid whim of yours and all I get in exchange is an ungrateful family."

Sam scoffed. "Why should we be grateful? For forcing Dean and me to do the exact opposite of what we wanted?"

Dean turned to Castiel, and he was looking out of place and terrified. Dean reached for his hand under the table, and Castiel attempted to smile.

"Do not get in the middle of this, Samuel," John warned. "This is between me and your mother."

Mary sighed, pouring herself another glass of wine. "I have nothing else to say to you, John."

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand.

"I always knew this family was insane," Bobby grunted, taking a swig of his flask.

After an unbearably awkward beat of silence, the front door was kicked open, hitting the wall behind it with force and causing a few frames to land on the floor. Three policemen ran inside holding their guns, yelling, "Everybody freeze, put your hands up!"

They did as they were told, and Dean gaped at Cas as he released his hand. Castiel looked immediately guilty, and Dean took a deep breath, turning to the officers.

"What is going on here?" Mary asked, perplexed.

"It had to be all of your screaming," John mumbled.

One of the cops turned to Dean. "We have reason to believe that man kidnapped Castiel Novak."

Mary shook her head and waved at the cops, as though this was a misunderstanding. "That can't be possible, officer. Castiel is my son's boyfriend. Actually, they just became engaged to be married. Right, honey?"

With all the shame in the world, Dean faced Mary. "No, mom, I forced him to come here with me," Dean confessed, knowing there was no way out of this.

Castiel frowned, his cheeks turning red. "I'm not his boyfriend."

And the truth was finally out.


Dean couldn't think of a worst time and place to be locked in a confined space with his entire family. It appeared that the Winchesters were the only criminals on Christmas because they made up the entire jail cell.

Castiel hadn't been lying about sending Dean to jail.

Nobody was talking to Dean. John was beyond infuriated, so much so that no one dared to be near him. Mary looked angry, but mostly she looked on the verge of tears. Sam was giving Dean his best version of a bitchface. The only person who seemed unsurprised and unbothered was Bobby, who had pulled his cap down to cover his face and was attempting to sleep.

They had spent all night in this place, and it seemed like a never ending world of suck.

"Mom, please don't cry," Dean begged.

With a strangled sob, she turned to Dean. "Kidnapping? Why would you do such a thing, Dean?"

"Mom."

"What did you have to do to force Castiel to pretend he was in love with you? Were you drugging him, too?"

Dean rubbed at his forehead. "I never meant for any of this to get this far. I'm sorry I did this. He knows that too." Yeah, so what if he knows it? Dean still screwed up.

"I feel responsible for everything that happened," Mary mumbled, holding back her tears. "If we hadn't driven you to the edge, you wouldn't have kidnapped an innocent person."

"Do not dare bring me into this mess," John said from his corner of the cell.

A cop approached their cell, suddenly, and Dean couldn't be happier to hear the jiggling of keys. He unlocked the iron door and opened it. "Novak didn't press charges, so you're all free to go."

Dean felt a wave of thrill travel through his body, but he didn't let it overpower him. Cas not pressing charges didn't mean anything. Maybe he figured it wasn't worth the time seeing Dean in jail after all.

Allowing his family to exit the cell before him, Dean let them go without saying goodbye and he went to retrieve his items that were retained from him. Among them was the engagement ring Castiel had given him and it almost burned to touch it again. He put it in his pocket and left.

As Dean was walking down the steps of the county jail, he saw the last person he expected to see, waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. Castiel was wearing the same tan trenchcoat he wore on the day Dean kidnapped him, and when he turned, Dean knew he couldn't simply walk past him in an attempt to evade him. Besides, Dean still had to return the ring that didn't belong to him.

Castiel was smiling, despite everything, and Dean couldn't help but return the smile, no matter how weak it felt.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said pleasantly.

"Hey."

"Are you okay? Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, but they all hate me." Dean scratched the back of his head. "Thanks for not letting me rot in prison like you'd promised me."

Castiel took a step forward, and Dean craved the closeness, even now. "I didn't mean for any of you to spend the night in jail. I honestly forgot I'd make that call to—never mind."

"Well, anyway, I think you should have this back," Dean said, pulling out the shiny ring from his pocket and giving it to Castiel.

"Yeah, thanks." Castiel took the ring and transferred it to his own pocket, and then he dug his hands into his jacket. "Dean, I know we didn't really have time to talk about what happened between us. I know it's confusing. Our whole situation is confusing, but what you and I did, or what we could have done—"

"Castiel," a young dark haired girl said. She was in a long expensive coat and wearing actual fucking high heels on a winter morning. "I was looking all over for you. Can't run away from me again." She took notice of Dean and made a face like she'd tasted a lemon. "Who is that?"

"Give me a moment, Daphne," Castiel said, facing her with clear annoyance. "I need to talk with him."

"Is that him?" Daphne—apparently—asked. "That's the man that kidnapped you and took you away from me? With my engagement ring?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Daphne, please don't."

But Daphne ignored Castiel as she pushed him aside to stand inches in front of Dean. The girl was so small, but Dean still recognized a threat in her, and it wasn't a physical danger.

"How fucking dare you talk to him?" Daphne demanded, careful not to raise her voice enough to catch anyone's attention. "After all you caused?"

Dean gritted his teeth, trying to fight against his innermost desire to hit a girl for the first time. He knew it was wrong, but damn it he wanted it. "I apologized to Castiel already."

"I don't care about your apologies," Daphne said, folding her arms and stomping her feet. "If it were up to me, you and the rest of your kind would still be in jail. Castiel doesn't have the guts to hurt anyone, but if you come close to him, I won't let him stop me from making sure you pay for what you've done."

Dean looked to Castiel, and the man seemed angry, but not angry enough to do something.

"Let's go," Daphne said, pulling Castiel by his arm.

"Hang on," Castiel said, but there wasn't much will in his voice to fight her.

"Castiel," she said, sternly this time, and she pulled on his arm again. This time, Castiel let her move him, away from Dean.

Not breaking eye contact with Dean, Castiel frowned at him. "Take care of yourself, Dean."

"You, too."

"Castiel," Daphne whined.

"Goodbye, Dean," Castiel managed to say before he was dragged completely away by the annoying, snotty bitch of his girlfriend.

And as Dean watched him go, he knew the chances of ever seeing Castiel again were slim. It was his own damn fault. Did Dean truly believe this would end well for him?


Valentine's Day…

"How are you holding up, Dean?" Ash asked, sliding him a drink over the counter.

Dean took a deep breath. "Still unemployed. I keep missing my job interviews. I think part of me just doesn't want to get the job."

"I'd love to help you, man, but Ellen said she can't trust you anymore." Ash shrugged. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's all right. I don't even know why I keep sending out my recordings to all these indie record labels. I doubt they'll even listen to my songs. It's what I get for believing I actually had a chance to prove I was good at what I love doing."

"Drink your beer, you're depressing me," Ash said, bouncing his palm on the counter. "I know what you need. You need a drinking buddy." Ash grabbed another beer and walked around the counter to sit beside Dean. "Feel better?"

Dean laughed. "Much better."

Ash took a long sip of his beer. "Any special plans for tonight?"

"No," Dean said with a long sigh. "You?"

"I think I'm going to go steady with Pam," Ash said. "We've had this weird friends with benefits thing for a few months, but I kinda just want to date her."

Dean looked surprised. "Really? You and Pam? Huh. Well, good for you. Glad you're settling down with someone."

"Yeah," Ash said absently, taking another drink. "What about you? Haven't found any more VPs to kidnap lately?"

Dean rolled his eyes, though the comment stung a little. "I haven't even heard from Castiel. At all. For all I know, that girlfriend of his put a collar around his neck and threw him to her backyard."

"Jealousy is a bitch."

"I'm not jealous, Ash," Dean said, and he was sure about that. "I can't believe I thought I had feelings for a man I kidnapped. The whole thing is so stupid. I just feel bad for the guy. Last time I saw him his girlfriend had him on a tight leash. That's now way to live life."

"If you say so," Ash said.

Dean picked up the newspaper he'd brought into the bar to search for more job opening. Hell, he was so desperate he was considering a fast food chain. Any one of them. He had a lot of open options.

When Dean opened the newspaper, he noticed a wedding announcement. His first thought was, are you fucking serious people still do this? But as he focused on the picture of the happy couple, Dean felt his insides slowly melt with a fire that spurred from the inside out.

Castiel Novak and Daphne Allen were officially engaged. Their wedding was just around the corner.

Fuck.

Dean had been kidding himself earlier. Seeing Castiel with that horrible woman devastated Dean, more than he wanted to accept. And it wasn't just because of what he possibly felt for Castiel, it was because he knew Castiel wasn't happy. He could see it in his face when Daphne was near, and even on the picture.

Fuck.

The shittiest part was that Dean couldn't do anything, now. He was simply going to accept the fact that he'd lost Castiel forever. What an absurd thought to have, when Castiel had never even been his.


Wedding invitations. Wedding decorations. Wedding pictures. Wedding planning in general had become Castiel's most recent life, and it was painful and unbearable at times.

He never did tell Daphne was happened at the cabin, much less that he'd put the ring that was now on her finger on Dean first. He also left out the detail in which he savagely kissed Dean in the bathroom, or the way that kissed had ruined Castiel for good.

But Daphne seemed content with all the wedding preparations. She wanted to spend more money on the actual wedding event rather than on getting a place of their own. It was as though she expect everything to flow magically after the wedding.

God, just thinking about the wedding made Castiel uneasy. The thing was, he was too far in to back out of it now. And maybe he could just settle for Daphne and see where life took him from there. He could form the family he always pictured with Daphne and be somewhat satisfied. That's what he wanted before everything changed, before he met Dean.

Daphne was going through the guest list, trying to form the perfect seating arrangement. "What if we put the Miltons with the Gallaghers?"

"What?" Castiel said, pulled away from his thought process.

"You do realize we have two weeks until our wedding, right?"

Castiel swallowed. "Yes. Put the Miltons with the Gallaghers. I'm sure they'll get along." Cas rose from the chair he'd been sitting at for the past two hours. "I'm going to get some fresh air outside."

"Don't take too long," Daphne said.

Unable to take another second in this asphyxiating house, Castiel opened the front door and sat on the top step, resting his head on his hands.

The only thought that would help him gain courage was of Dean. If it were Dean inside, Castiel wouldn't have the need to stay away. If it were Dean who Castiel was marrying, he would be ecstatic.

But this was his reality…right? He had to marry Daphne.

"Castiel," Daphne said, in that high pitch tone he never liked. "Come back inside. I need your opinion on things."

"Okay," he said, walking back into the house he also never liked.

Daphne turned to head back to the living room when Castiel stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked. "We can talk and walk at the same time. No time to waste."

"Why do you want to marry me, Daphne?" Castiel wondered, genuinely curious.

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "Is this a serious question? You're not taking back your proposal, are you?"

"I just want you to tell me why you want to marry me, of all people?"

Daphne grinned, placing a hand to Castiel's chest. "Because we're good together, Castiel. We're both beautiful, and I'm working hard to make sure our wedding is the envy of everyone. We'll have the perfect marriage, and we will have one son named Sebastian."

"See? This is what I'm talking about. You're not being realistic about any of this."

Daphne groaned. "If you're going to marry me, you're going to have to do as I say. And I say we have no time for more silly discussions. Help me figure out this next sitting arrangement." She turned and stomped her feet away.

Castiel had his answer.


It had taken some time before Sam forgave Dean, but eventually he did, and today Dean had been invited to perform at his coffee shop. The Crossroad Blues Coffee Shop was in Kansas City, on a well known street that attracted plenty of customers. Dean knew this business would be a success, and he was so happy for Sam.

Dean walked in with his guitar at hand. He noticed the inside of the coffee shop was painted a teal color, and there were all sorts of artwork, just like Sam had promised. Most of the space was taken up with long bright yellow couches and individual beanbags for those who were actually young.

What drew Dean's attention was the stage set up at the center of the room. It wasn't against the wall, like most stages were. The thought of having to entertain an audience, not just play for them, caused Dean to panic. He would have to move around in order to play for his entire audience, to engage them in.

Dean estimated about twenty-five to thirty people at the moment, and even though the place was bigger than your average Starbucks, Dean still felt it was more than packed. Sam was standing in front of the counter, greeting people and making suggestions for coffee.

According to the schedule Sam had given him, Dean was performing first. Dean had his set list in his other hand, wrinkling it unintentionally. Sam noticed Dean and excused himself, approaching Dean.

"Busy first day," Dean commented.

Sam smiled. "I can't believe this is actually happening. I fucking did it!"

"I said it before and I'll say it again. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Laughing, his younger brother took Dean on a hug. "I'm so excited for you, Dean. This is your first real performance!"

"You really didn't have to pay me to play."

Sam punched Dean's arm, playfully. "Yes, I did. I only hired experienced bands and singers to play tonight. It's opening night, I want to give the crowd a good show."

"That is a shitload of pressure, Sammy. Thanks," Dean mumbled, staring back at the front door that kept chiming every time the door swung open. More people kept walking in, and Dean noticed they were all carrying neon colored flyers. "Is the whole bright colors a theme at this place?" Dean wondered.

Sam nodded, looking proud. "It hurts to look at bright colors, doesn't it? But it's almost like you want to look away, but you can't, so you read the flyer and find out every drink is buy one get one half off, and you get your butt in here. Also, I might have mentioned a long lost American legend will be performing tonight."

Dean blinked at Sam. "Who's playing? Is it Vanilla Ice?"

With a look that looked more like a glare, Sam shook his head. "Dean, please don't ever make those stupid assumptions again. I'm going to pretend I don't even know you right now."

"Come on, tell me," Dean said, laughing.

"It's you!" Sam said.

Dean would have fallen down on one of the couches, had they not all been completely full. "Why the fuck would you lie to these people, Sammy? You know they won't keep coming here if you make all these false promises."

"I'm not lying, Dean," Sam said, folding his arms to show that he meant business. "I think you deserve more fame that some of those untalented bastards on the media. I'm sure everyone's going to love you, and don't you argue with me. Go get ready because you're up first."

"Can't I at least try some of your coffee?" Dean asked, measuring his distance to the front door. Maybe, if he acted fast, he could be out of here in a few seconds. There was no way Sam would leave his shop behind to go after Dean.

"Don't you fucking dare," Sam said, placing a hand on Dean's back and guiding him to the front counter.

Dean ordered a coffee, on the house, and hung his guitar on his back as he took small sips from it. And hell, Sam wasn't lying when he claimed to have found the perfect recipe. This coffee was like a magical wonderland of fucking goodness. Sam had definitely made the right choice by doing what he actually wanted to do. Now he wasn't miserable, and he was responsible for some of the best coffee Dean had ever had.

Sam looked suddenly alarmed, and he made a beeline to Dean, blocking his view. It wasn't hard to do, since Sam was ridiculously taller than Dean.

"They're here," Sam said.

"Who's here?" Dean asked, trying to peak at whatever Sam was hiding.

Sam breathed, relaxing just slightly. "Our parents."

"WHAT?"

"I invited them. Dad did pay for most of this," Sam said, shrugging.

Dean shoved Sam aside, and sure enough, Mary and John had just walked in, looking both excited and confused.

"Why did they even agree to come?" Dean wondered. "They're just lining themselves up for disappointment."

Sam snorted. "Dean, they're not as bad as they used to be. They've been going to counseling over the past few weeks, and they actually wanted to come and see you play."

"Why?"

Exasperated, Sam rolled his eyes. "Because they are our family, Dean. Go say hi, but make it quick, 'cause you're up in five."

After giving Dean a push, Sam watched Dean approaching his parents. Mary was holding John's hand and their first reaction when seeing Dean was to smile. Both of them smiled, like they had simply forgotten how badly Dean had screwed up.

"Hi," Dean said.

John placed a hand to Dean's shoulder. "Hope we didn't miss the show."

"No, I was just about to get up there."

Mary wrapped her arms around Dean, uninvited, but definitely not unwelcome. "Dean, I am so happy you're finally doing this," she whispered in his ear. "I love you so much."

Dean stared at his mother once she let him go, feeling vulnerable, but at the same time, confident. "Thank you for coming," Dean finally said. "I'm…I'm glad you could make it."

His parents regarded him for another moment, and Dean could feel his stomach churning with more excitement than fear. For once, Dean actually felt ready. He'd spent too long away from his dream, and now everything was set up almost perfectly for Dean to play and finally feel at home.

So Dean got on the center stage, unpacked his Taylor, and adjusted it comfortably on his lap. He plugged in his guitar, and glanced up at the full house. His favorite pick was at hand, and Dean angled the mike to his mouth, testing it.

"Hello, everyone," Dean mumbled, hoping his voice was amplified enough to be audible.

Sam was smiling at him, giving him two thumbs up. Dean resisted the urge to look down at his feet. Instead, he tried to enjoy the watching audience. They were all at least mildly content because of the coffee, so Dean didn't need to have so much pressure on his shoulders.

Dean introduced himself to the people in the audience. They seemed friendly enough. After taking one long breath, Dean rose from the chair on the stage, hung the guitar strap around his neck, and turned to address the audience behind him. This was definitely a new type of fear. Dean was being watched from every direction, and he wasn't even sure he remembered how to play guitar anymore.

That wasn't plausible. Dean had spent the last couple of weeks practicing nonstop. When he walked in tonight, Dean had been more than prepared. But now? Now he was nervous and scared, and still shocked that his parents were here to support him.

Unable to put it off any longer, Dean started playing. He gave his Taylor a few strums, starting up the correct rhythm. Dean sang into the mike, wishing with all his might that his voice wouldn't crack. But it didn't. He sang and he played on because a slow clapping was happening in the audience, and Dean realized that they were clapping along to the song, joining him.

Dean beamed, and a few teenage girls giggled, overly excited. Dean continued with his song.

I wanted to meet you, baby
I wanted to meet you, my friend
Please don't leave me hanging
I needed to see you, again

It wasn't until his fifth song that Dean sat back on his chair. He closed his eyes and sang softly into the microphone, no longer worried about his voice cracking or what the audience would think of him if he fucked up. No, his music had always been about projecting some sort of genuine emotion, and that's what he did.

Dean brought his last song to an end, and the loud, vibrant clapping ensued. There was cheering, too. Opening his eyes, Dean searched for his parents. John and Mary were standing up, still clapping their hands. The pride in their eyes was easily recognizable.

Holy shit. His parents were fucking proud of Dean. For making music.


Sam congratulated Dean first, and he assured him that people were not disappointed in discovering the long lost American legend. Dean still couldn't believe how absurd that title sounded, and unfitting.

John and Mary could not stop repeating how proud they were of Dean, and it was a brand new experience when a few people from the audience came up to Dean to praise his music. Some even asked to take pictures with him.

By the time Dean left the coffee shop, the place was still packed, and Sam decided to let them his customers stay longer than closing time, only letting his employees go. Dean wished Sam good luck and bid him goodbye.

The still cold air outside greeted Dean in the dark night. The downside of being on this side of town was the lack of parking space. Dean had to abandon his Impala on some parking garage a few minutes walking distance. With a reluctant sigh, Dean made his way to his car.

"Don't move," someone said from behind. He was speaking with a gruff, deep voice Dean couldn't recognize. But what he did recognize was the tip of a gun pointed to his back.

"Don't shoot," Dean said cautiously, raising his hands. There was such a thing called karma, and it was a bitch. "I have money. Let me take out my wallet. You don't have to do this."

After a beat of Dean praying for his life in the cold silence, Dean felt a piece of cloth fall over his head, blindfolding him.

"What are you doing? Look, I've been on the other side, and even if you think you won't, you will end up in jail."

"Shut up," the voice said, taking Dean hands and pulling them to his back. Dean jumped when he felt something cold around his wrists, and a once he heard a sharp click, he realized he'd been handcuffed. What a twisted joke of the universe.

Dean licked his chapped lips. "Just let me go. You can walk away from this. Please."

Suddenly, the man—because Dean assumed it was a man—put his hands in every one of Dean's pockets, feeling for something. When the man found his wallet, Dean thought he would take it and leave him, but he put the wallet back. On his left pocket, the man found Dean's keys and he pulled them out.

"Don't take my baby," Dean begged. "I'll do whatever you want, but please don't take my car."

The man laughed, actually laughed. "Keep walking," he said, poking Dean's back again with the gun.

"Are you going to torture me before you kill me?" Dean asked abruptly. He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut right now, but he was almost certain he was going to die tonight, regardless of what he said.

"I am going to make you beg for mercy," the man said in that same deep voice. "All night long."

Dean swallowed, picturing the situation he'd have to be put in for him to go to those extremes. "Shit."

The man laughed again, and something about his laugh completely threw Dean off. He wasn't laughing maniacally or anything. He was just laughing like he found actual amusement in Dean. And that tiny fact made Dean feel a little better.

Though not so much.

When they finally reached the Impala, or so Dean assumed was his Impala, the man shoved Dean on the passenger seat and buckled him in. A few moments later, he started the car and started driving.

Dean should have been more worried about his promised night of torture, but instead he was furious that this psycho was driving his Impala.

"If you wreck her, or leave any scratch on her, I swear to God I will murder you." Dean clenched his cuffed fists.

"I'm not here to hurt your car, Dean," the man said patiently. "I'm just here for you."

"How do you know my name?" Dean asked, turning to the direction where he knew the man was, hoping he could develop x-ray vision so he could see his face.

The man was quiet, and then he said, "I'm a big fan of your music."

"Oh God, couldn't you have waited until I actually sold a record?"

"Idiot," the man muttered.

After one of the longest drives of Dean's life, the vehicle came to a slow stop and Dean waited until the man unbuckled his seatbelt to try to take off running blindly.

The man laughed, watching Dean run like a…like a wild chicken without its head. Dean turned to the sound of the laughter, approaching it, because as he listened closely, he could finally note a distinctive sound in it.

Apparently, Dean had been walking the wrong direction because the man gripped both of Dean's arms and pointed him to the right direction.

"If you didn't look so cute right now I'd probably keep this going," the man said, but his voice was now normal. The voice belonged to Cas. The blindfold came off, and Dean was once again face to face with his kidnapper.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, debating on whether or not to be angry. "I thought it was your wedding day."

Castiel smiled. "So you've been keeping tabs on me?"

"Of course not," Dean said, offended. "But your damn picture was all over the papers, what did you want me to do? Look away?"

Placing a hand on Dean's cheek, Castiel frowned at Dean, at once apologetic. "I think you are absolutely crazy, I honestly do. And I hate the way you constantly put yourself down like you're actually your own worst enemy. But I should also say that I made a mistake going back to Daphne. If it weren't for you, I probably would have married her, like I had originally planned."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Why do you think, assbutt?"

"Because you're just as crazy as I am," Dean deadpanned. "And your achy breaky heart just couldn't go on without me."

Castiel threw his head back in laughter. His laughter faded, and he turned to Dean with a wide grin. "Something like that," he said.

"Can you get these cuffs off of me?" Dean reminded him. "They're a bit tight."

"You miss those furry ones?"

"I miss when we didn't have to use handcuffs at all," Dean said.

Castiel kissed him, smiling as he unlocked the handcuffs with a skill Dean didn't know he had. When he pulled away, releasing Dean from the pressure on his wrists, he looked to his surrounding for the first time.

They were parked on the driveway of a condo. It was the only one with the porch light on. The place looked huge, and warm, despite the freezing temperature outside.

"Where are we?" Dean wondered.

"Home," Castiel replied. "Do you like it?"

"It's great, Cas. But why did you bring me here?"

Castiel opened the door and took Dean's hand. "I have a surprise for you."

"I don't like surprises," Dean muttered.

Regardless, Castiel turned on a light and pushed Dean inside. The place was empty, aside from a coffee table in the living room.

"Are you moving out?"

"Moving in, actually," Cas said, closing the front door and looking around at the desolate place. "I just bought it."

"Oh."

"I wanted you to see it first," Cas said, unable to contain his excitement.

Dean walked to the coffee table when he noticed an object resting on it. He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that his CD had landed in Castiel's hands. He sure as hell wasn't selling them tonight. Unless Castiel went into his house somehow and took it, then Dean couldn't find another possible explanation.

He picked up the familiar copy of one of his CDs. It didn't have Dean's picture on it. Instead, the cover was a picture of his Impala. Nothing truly came close to the love between a man and his car. Although, Dean could think of one exception at the moment.

"Where did you get this?" Dean asked, turning to Castiel.

Castiel approached him, looking from the CD to Dean. "You sent it to me."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't, Cas. I only sent them out to record labels."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Exactly."

Dean was confused. "What do you mean? You own a record label?"

With a shrug, Castiel took Dean's CD out of his hands and set it back on his coffee table. "There are so many things you still don't know about me, Dean."

Dean blinked. "Cas—"

"I believe in your music and talent," Castiel said easily, like they were just words, and not life-changing words to Dean. "I already got the process started. We sent out a letter that should arrive to you by Monday."

"How long, exactly, have you been planning this?" Dean asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. It was like all the oxygen had suddenly disappeared.

Castiel cupped Dean's face with both hands, gazing into his eyes. "Last week I was tempted to go to your house, but I thought kidnapping you tonight would be more appropriate."

"How did you know I was playing tonight?"

"I've been in contact with Sam," Castiel admitted. "He recorded the whole show for me."

Dean shook his head, smiling. "You didn't have to do all of this."

"I think I did," Cas said. "Because now we are truly even."

"Fuck, I could just…"

"Me, too."

Dean couldn't handle it any longer. He pushed Castiel up against the long blank wall and crushed his lips with his own. Castiel gripped Dean's hair and kissed him back, with kisses that ranged from soft and full of emotion to desperate, passionate ones.

Little was needed for Dean to gain access inside Castiel's mouth. Dean licked the top of his mouth, savoring the little moans that escaped from Castiel. He pressed his hips to Castiel's, tight enough for the other man to gasp for air.

"Bedroom," Castiel breathed, and Dean circled his arms around Castiel's waist, pressing them closer. "I have a bed."

"Thank God," Dean mumbled, angling Castiel's mouth back to his because it just tasted that great.

Dean allowed Castiel to guide him, again, even though he wasn't blindfolded, Dean still couldn't manage to think properly as his hands worked on undressing Castiel.

The long tan trenchcoat fell on the bedroom floor, and Dean's jacket flew across the room. Castiel had been right about the bed. And Dean couldn't help but smile, thinking that Cas really did have everything planned.

"I don't know how," Castiel said, kissing down Dean's neck, working to remove his button down shirt. "I don't know when," Castiel continued, moving his hands slowly down Dean's chest until he buried his fingers between Dean's waist and his jeans. "But I fell in love with you."

Dean shivered as his shirt rolled off his arms and a slow trail of kisses traveled from his neck down to his belly button. "Did you?" Dean managed to gasp.

"Mmmm," Castiel replied, unzipping Dean's jeans and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs.

"Can't be too sure, but I think I know the—" Dean sucked in a breath when Castiel gave a small tug at Dean's cock, enveloping it in his warm, calloused hands. "—exact time I fell in love with you."

"When, Dean?" Castiel stared up at Dean with dark blue eyes and puffed up lips.

"When I woke up with you…" Dean trailed off, tangling his fingers on Castiel's hair as his cock was introduced to Castiel's skilled mouth. "…when your leg was on me."

Castiel swallowed Dean, almost wholly, and Dean threw his head back in utter bliss. With a pop, Castiel released him, taking the last remains of Dean's sanity with him. "Get on the bed," Castiel said, kissing Dean's lips again, and Dean could taste himself in his mouth. God, it was glorious.

Dean lied on the bed, on his back, leaning up on his elbows as Castiel went through a duffle bag on the floor. He pulled out a condom and a tube of lube. "You really did come prepared," Dean admired.

"I figured we could really break in this new bed," Cas said, sitting between Dean's open legs.

Although Dean admired Cas in a good-looking suit, he opted for peeling off the rest of his clothes as Castiel got things ready. Dean thought he'd never get tired of looking at Castiel's chest, or his shoulders, and hell, his collarbone was just as gracious. Once Dean got him shirtless, he removed his pants and released his hard cock from the tight space in his briefs. "Fuck," Dean said, tugging at Castiel's hard-on.

"Shit, Dean," Castiel groaned, smearing his fingers with a generous amount of lube. Castiel pressed one small finger to Dean's opening, and Dean arched up, his body ready to let Cas in. Castiel bit his lip as he introduced his finger deep into Dean, and Dean let out a small yelp. "Did I hurt you?" Castiel asked.

"Keep going," Dean encouraged. After a while, Castiel buried another lube-filled finger into Dean, and Dean pressed his eyes shut, panting with expectation.

"One more?" Castiel asked, as Dean started moving up and down, his cock bouncing on his belly.

Dean nodded, reaching for Castiel's other hand and lacing their fingers. Castiel carefully moved a third finger inside Dean, sending a wave of pleasure through Dean.

"I want you, Cas," Dean managed to get out.

Castiel released Dean's hand, working to subtly remove his fingers from Dean, only to replace it with the tip of his cock. One moment later, Castiel was deep inside Dean, slowly gaining more access as he sprawled on top of Dean completely. Dean took advantage of their closeness to press their lips together, hard.

With a sigh of relief, Castiel moved inside of Dean, holding Dean's sides with need. Dean looked to him and the mere sight of Cas so deep in pleasure could make Dean come.

"Cas," Dean said. Castiel opened his eyes, almost instantly, and when his eyes met Dean's, he smiled eagerly.

"I'm so glad you're here," Castiel said, kissing Dean once as he continued moving at a normal pace.

"I'm glad you kidnapped me," Dean said. He would have laughed had Castiel not speeded the pace of his movements. And just when Dean thought he'd had enough, Castiel reach for Dean's cock, and stroked it, rubbing his thumb against his shaft.

Castiel's hips became frantic, and when his hands stopped moving on Dean's cock, Dean kissed him, and continued kissing him as he came inside Dean. Castiel kissed lazily at Dean, stroking him again.

After another beat of seconds, Dean came in Castiel's hands, moaning embarrassingly loud. Castiel pressed short kisses to Dean's neck as they both fell off their high into a peaceful, dreamy state.


They both went to the Crossroad Blues Coffee Shop for breakfast the next morning, since Castiel didn't even own a fridge in his condo.

Sam was making the coffee this morning, it seemed. He stood in an apron behind the counter. Sam turned to them, smiling. "Fucking finally. Did he do the whole kidnapping thing?"

"I did," Castiel said, smugly.

"I thought he was going to murder me," Dean complained. "I can't believe you were okay with this, Sam."

Castiel threw an arm around Dean's shoulder. "Don't pretend you didn't like it."

"I didn't like it that much," Dean said.

Sam laughed. "So, what can I get you?"

"Two coffees and two bagels," Cas said. "And some serious luck because I still have something to ask Dean."

"Coming right up," Sam said. "And I don't think Dean's going to be much of a problem."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, hating being left out of these secret conversations.

"Let's go sit down," Cas offered, sitting at an empty table.

Dean sat across from him, paying full attention, especially at Castiel's seriousness. "What's up?"

"Well," Cas started, looking more nervous than Dean had been last night before he got up on stage. "I didn't just show you my condo last night for nothing," he continued.

"Oh, I know it wasn't just for nothing," Dean said. "I thought we already settled that part."

Cas rolled his eyes, but his cheeks gained a little bit of color. "I know it's probably too soon, but I thought you might like the idea."

"What idea?" Dean asked slowly.

"Do you want to move in with me?" Castiel blurted out quickly. "I don't want you to feel pressured in any way. And it doesn't have to be anything more than roommates. Of course, if you wanted something more…well, that is something I want, too."

Dean blinked for a moment. Sam brought their coffees and bagels over personally, but as he sensed the tight air, he took a few steps back and ran back to the counter.

"Cas, I have been dying to get out of my loft," Dean admitted. "For years. Basically, since the day I moved in."

"Okay," Castiel said, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Fuck yeah, I want to move in with you," he said.

Castiel sighed, sounding relieved. "So, we're doing this?"

"We're doing this," Dean agreed, sipping Sam's delicious coffee.

Castiel tried it, also. "Hmm. This is good."

Dean and Castiel ate their breakfast together, enjoying the soothing environment of the coffee shop. It occurred to Dean that this was their first real breakfast together, of many more to come.

This, he could get used to.