"I'm afraid I will be unable to come in to work today." Trembling, Castiel awaited Adler's reply. Dean gave him a heartening smile that failed to reassure him.
"Pathetic," snapped Adler. Castiel flinched. "If you can't to do your job, then what use are you to this organization? I will tell Joshua about your inadequacy, you can be sure."
I'm supposed to please him. I have to please him. Yesterday…
…was yesterday. And today is today. It was a one time thing and it will never be repeated. I thought it was the answer. It took trying to realize how wrong I was.
I will never do that again: not punishment, not with Adler.
And Dean…?
No. Focus. I can do this. I have to do this.
Castiel took a shaky breath. "I have worked closely with Joshua since before your division existed. He is well aware of my work ethic and he will trust my self-assessment that I am unwell enough that my work will be impaired if I come in. Further, I have 138 accumulated sick days. Sandover will function without me for one day." Nodding approval, Dean shot Castiel a thumbs-up. Castiel managed a weak, lopsided smile in reply.
"Fine," Adler said; from his tone of voice, Castiel was sure Adler had rolled his eyes. "But I'll expect you here bright and early tomorrow."
"You're not my boss, Adler," said Castiel, surprised by his own vehemence and aggression. I'm doing it – I'm standing up to my dom.
No. Adler is not my dom. Dean is my dom.
Or is he?
Castiel had no idea. That was why he was taking the day off. There was so much he and Dean had to talk about.
It's not that I feel alright talking to Adler. It's that in contrast to how absolutely terrified I am of talking to Dean, talking to Adler seems easy.
Adler hung up without answering. Castiel set the phone down and stared at his lap. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, waiting, but couldn't bring himself to look up. Dean hadn't insisted on speaking today, but the weight of everything unsaid between them was unbearable now that they were in the same place.
Waking up had been a dream come true, literally. As soon as Castiel had come to himself enough to realize that Dean was actually there, anxiety had choked him sick and he'd scrambled from bed. It had taken Dean ten minutes, and multiple apologies for intruding after Castiel had told him not to, before Castiel could be coaxed out of the bathroom.
"So."
Nervously, Castiel flicked his gaze up to meet Dean's eyes. In the bright light of morning streaming through the opened curtains, they were deep green, dazzling against Dean's skin. Castiel had thought Dean stunning – almost impossibly attractive – when they'd first "met" on Skype, but meeting him in person was something else again. Plush lips, tanned skin, freckled cheeks, even Dean's disheveled bed-head was alluring and perfect. It was inconceivable that Dean was there, that Dean had stayed the night, that Dean had helped him. It was inconceivable that Dean was sprawled in the room's arm chair, elbows on his knees as he stared at Castiel intently. It was inconceivable that Castiel mattered to Dean.
"I'm sorry, sir," Castiel whispered. "I'll accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate for my behavior." Eyes glued to the floor, hands on his lap, Castiel sat meekly in the room's desk chair, heart thudding. Sitting put uncomfortable weight on his aching ass, reminded him unpleasantly of everything that had happened with Adler. Had it really only been 24 hours since he'd been punished?
God, I was such an idiot to think that would fix anything. All it's done is make everything worse.
Whatever happened next, he'd accept it. He was Dean's now. Yesterday had taught him that.
Dean said nothing. Castiel could feel the tension and anger in the air, compressing his chest, and his breathing picked up.
"You're serious," muttered Dean. Grimacing, Castiel glanced up quickly again but saw nothing in Dean's expression to tell him what Dean was thinking. Anxiety flared tight in Castiel's chest. "Shit…you really…Cas – Castiel – I'm not going to punish you. You used your safe word! You're obviously terrified! I've never been so fricken worried about someone in my life. What the fuck did I do to make you this fucking scared of me?"
Dean sounded…heartbroken?
"I'm sorry," Castiel repeated, unsure what else he had to offer.
"Don't be sorry," Dean exploded. Leaping to his feet, Dean strode past Castiel's chair. Castiel covertly looked up to watch his back; shoulders thrown back, legs slightly bowed, gorgeous ass that Castiel had seen so many times, now within reach, except…Dean raked a hand through his hair and rounded on him, face clouded with anger, and Castiel drew back into a contrite pose. "Jesus…Cas, what do you think you have to be sorry for? What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
"I safe worded," Castiel explained. He was familiar with this interaction. He knew what to say when his dom demanded to know what he'd done wrong. For the first time all day, they were interacting in a way Castiel understood. "I tried to cut off communication with you. I refused you when you came to see me. I…" Castiel trailed off. Dean was staring at him, eyes growing more shocked and jaw dropping further with each statement that Castiel made. "Sir?"
"Dean!" Dean said. "We talked about this. We're not in a scene! I'm just Dean, and you're just Cas. And…fuck…none of that is what went wrong here!"
Oh no, I got it wrong. He's going to punish me. He's going to keep at me until I figure out what it was or until I pass out and—
NO! DEAN IS NOT NAOMI.
"Why didn't you tell me how much you struggled with anxiety? Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you? Why didn't you talk to me about anything, Cas?" With each question, Castiel deflated further.
Dean wanted to know those things? Why?
"I never wanted to hurt you – I mean, except in ways that you consented to!" Dean pressed on. The longer Castiel listened, the more convinced he grew that Dean wasn't angry so much as frustrated, exasperated, upset. There was no tension of imminent violence in the room, no feeling that they stood on a precipice and that at any given moment Dean might lash out. There was only Castiel's burgeoning fears and Dean's aggressive desire to know what was going on. "That was the whole fucking point! I spent ten fricken years dreaming of meeting someone like you, someone I couldn't break by accident just because I wanted to fucking tear you apart, someone who wanted to bleed as badly as I wanted to see them bleed. I thought you wanted that too, and then I went and broke you anyway and I don't even know what I did wrong!" There was such intense earnestness on Dean's face, it made Castiel's chest hurt. Hands flapping ineffectually, Dean paced back and forth, jittery, and then threw himself back into the armchair. "Castiel, who is Naomi?"
Shocked, Castiel blinked. "How do you even know that name?" Dean had asked him about Naomi once before, what felt like a lifetime ago, but Castiel hadn't had the strength to ask then.
"During our second scene, when you were…when you were way into it, deep in subspace or whatever, you said I wasn't Naomi," Dean explained, leaning forward, beautiful eyes fixed on Castiel. "This is about her, isn't it? Whoever the fuck she is? Did she hurt you yesterday?"
"Dean, I—"
"Wait," Dean interrupted, holding up a hand. Dutifully, Castiel snapped his mouth shut. "Castiel, I gotta say something first, and you have got to believe me. If you don't believe me, I don't want you to say another word, and we can fuckin' figure out what that means and deal with it. I'm not your dom right now. I'm just Dean. I care about you." Shaking his head slightly, Castiel frowned. "And that right there? That reaction? That's what I want to understand. Dude, I have been telling you for months that I think you're fucking mind-blowingly awesome and, what, you still thought I was pissed that you safe worded? If Naomi is who got you thinking that, I want to fuckin' destroy her. You're a masochist, not a doormat, and I'm a sadist, but that doesn't make me, like, sadistic. Cas, I get off on hurting you, sure, but it's because I know you get off on being hurt! It's not just about causing you pain – it's about causing you pain that you enjoy. So if you're not into it? There's no fricken point. Anyway. I…uh…I kinda lost the thread there. The point is, if you want to tell me, if you want to work this shit out, then talk. But if you're gonna tell me shit just because you're thinking, 'Dean's my dom and I have to tell him because he asked?' I'd rather you keep your mouth shut. Consider that your orders, if you have to – your friend Dean wants to know, wants to help; your dom Dean wants you to keep your damn mouth shut and not share anything you don't want to share. Got it?"
"Yes…Dean," Castiel acquiesced.
Did he want to tell Dean the truth?
If he knows, what will he think of me?
If I didn't still want him as my dom, it wouldn't matter what he thinks of me. But it'd also not be any of his business.
What do I want?
The heater clicked on, the rush of air the only sound in the room for long minutes. Castiel's thoughts raced in endless circles as he chased the answer to his conundrum. He had never told anyone what Naomi did to him. The only people who knew were those who were there. Telling Dean the truth would mean admitting it all, acknowledging it all, confessing that he had enjoyed so much of what was done to him.
But Dean enjoys many of the same things. Our kink lists match. So…
"S'ok if I say something while you think it over?" asked Dean quietly. Castiel nodded, only half listening. "Is Naomi…do you mean Naomi Tapping?" Castiel's stomach rebelled and he gagged trying to hold his breakfast down. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."
Dean isn't, he's not, he's not Naomi, I know he's not—
"Do you know Naomi?" Castiel asked, voice strangled.
"We've met," Dean snapped. Castiel cowered, unable to stop himself. "Woah, woah, not pissed at you. She is…okay. Maybe I should…it was wrong of me to ask you to talk to me when there's shit I've kept hidden, too. So I'll start the sharing and caring. Ya know everyone gets into the life in one way or another. For me, well, his name was Alastair. Said he saw something in me. Never did figure out what the fuck that meant, it's not like there was a sign on my forehead that said sadist and at the time I had no idea I might enjoy something like that. Fuck, the very idea of it made me kinda sick, like, why would I want to hurt someone else? What's hot about that? 'cept, Alastair invited me to sit in as he worked with some of his subs, and it was hot. It was really fuckin' hot. Even when they were screaming and fuckin' begging him to stop I still thought it was hot. So when you told me that you felt like you were busted for enjoying the shit you enjoy? I've been there, Cas. I so feel ya on that. Alastair didn't care much whether people wanted to get hurt or not. Not gonna lie, I still have nightmares about some of the stuff he did…some of the stuff we did together…" Dean roughly blew out, rubbed his eyes harshly.
"After we split, I stayed a dom but I dumped the sadism. I learned shibari cause it scratched a lot of the same itches – I could hold someone, bind them, even hurt them a little, but without doing any lasting harm. For a while, that was enough, but it never lasted. And when the people I dated—" Castiel started. Dated? Like, had an actual relationship? With his subs? "—found out about the sadism part, they left." Dean smiled sadly. "Everyone fuckin' leaves, Cas. I couldn't take it anymore so I stopped having relationships. Built up my photography business instead. Focused on models and workin' with other people's subs and teaching classes on shibari and tried to ignore my own desires. They never got me anything but trouble." Castiel nodded slowly. Everything Dean said was familiar, achingly familiar, but skewed to the dom's point of view. "That's how I ended up on SextersAnon. I couldn't find a masochist around KC who I synced well with, but I figured way more people are interested in the idea of pain and being a sub than actually get off on getting cut up. So if the whole relationship was anonymous and the acts were just being described instead of actually being done, surely I could find someone who'd want to play around. But when I saw your pictures? Shit." Dean blew out again, took a deep breath. "You…No. I shouldn't. You gotta make your decision and I'm gonna try to stop saying shit that influences you."
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Dean," Castiel whispered. There'd been no mention of Naomi in Dean's tale, but his story clarified much of how Dean had behaved. Dean was so worried about pushing Castiel further than he wanted to go, so careful of Castiel's boundaries.
"Fuck, man, I should be saying that to you," Dean answered, looking inexplicably abashed. "I shoulda known that I shouldn't…I mean…"
"You couldn't have known," said Castiel firmly. "I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you anything."
There was a pause as Castiel gathered himself and Dean watched with a semblance of patience. Castiel opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, snapped it shut. He couldn't…he still couldn't.
"Hey, Cas?" Dean said softly. "One other thing…don't lie to me again, okay? Whatever you tell me – whatever you don't tell me – if you can't tell me the truth don't even fuckin' bother. Cause I can't keep doin' this with you. I like you. I really like you. Even knowing nothing about you…maybe it's just lust, I don't fuckin' know, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't care."
Silence stretched out between them. The longer it went, the more oppressive and unbreakable it felt. Finally, Castiel said, "how did you know Naomi, Dean?"
"She and Alastair were friends," Dean explained. "We drove up to Illinois to do a few…demonstrations…at her place. She'd invite a whole bunch of her dom friends over, and they'd all bring their subs, and Alastair would…and I'd…well…" Dean licked his lips nervously, looked up at Castiel, looked away. "When were you…I mean…did you…Cas, did I…?"
"I don't recall anyone named Alastair," Castiel said. "And if I'd ever met you before, Dean, I can't imagine I'd be capable for forgetting you." He managed a wan smile to accompany the words and Dean blushed. "I was with Naomi from 1997 until 2002."
"That pre-dates me," Dean said, relieved. "Thank God. I wouldn't want to think that I…that we…I mean, that doesn't make the things that I did okay, but…it shouldn't be different if it had been you, but it is…at the time, what I saw there seemed normal. It wasn't until I was away from Alastair and I met other doms and learned more about how things should work that I realized just what a fucked up situation it was." Expectant, Dean looked up at Castiel.
That's it. That's my opening. Dean has seen Naomi's, seen what it's like there, and he's not judging, he's…
The intensity of Dean's gaze fell on Castiel like a great weight. Rolling his shoulders in a futile effort to relax, Castiel tried to speak once more, failed, and finally found words. "I was a sophomore in college. She was my professor freshman year, and I had a second class with her in fall semester. You have to understand, I was young, and she was beautiful and brilliant and renowned. She saw I was struggling and she wanted to help. No one ever wanted to help, no one ever could help, but she said she wanted to, and she…did things…" Castiel drew in a long, stuttering breath and tried again. "High school had been easy, even working full time while a student, and I had expected college to be the same. With two jobs I still couldn't make ends meet and pay tuition, and my classes were so hard. No one in my family could help – none of them had gone to college, no one had any money. I was on my own, completely on my own, and no one wanted to help. Except that Naomi did. She…" She took me back to her office and blew me and blew my mind. I wasn't a virgin but I had no idea sex could feel that good. "I just wanted to be worthy of her. I just wanted to be what she wanted."
"Cas…don't tell me anything you don't want to tell me," Dean repeated.
Castiel laughed sardonically. "Don't pretend that you'll be able to accept my continued silence, Dean," he said. "How can you work with a sub who can't be honest with you? How can you work with a sub who doesn't trust you?"
"Do you trust me, Cas?" asked Dean quietly, a pained grimace twisting his eyes with sadness.
"I want to," breathed Castiel. "I truly, truly do. But if you knew…" If you knew the things she did to me, you'd see how dirty I am. If you knew the things she did to me, you might want to do them as well. If you knew the things we did together, it would be over regardless. If you knew how much I trusted her, you'd understand why I find it so difficult to trust anyone ever again.
"My care for you – my desire to help – it's not conditional," Dean said. "Please don't take this as a 'tell me or else' scenario. You don't have to tell me."
"I want to," said Castiel. "But it's hard – it's tremendously hard. I've never told anyone. My parents think I was abducted into a crazy religious cult. All they know is that I showed up on their doorstep unannounced, half-starved and mostly crazy, after cutting off all communication with them and disappearing for two years. I couldn't tell them the truth."
"Which is?"
That I was weak and pathetic and Naomi tried to make me strong. That I couldn't be trained no matter what she did. That I'm a bad sub. That I'm… "Most days, I don't even know," Castiel admitted. "Sometimes it seems obvious that she crossed lines – that she knew…" He took a deep breath. I've talked and talked and I haven't actually said anything yet. I have to show him that I'm serious. I have to show him that I'm trying. "She knew that I didn't like it when she let her friends use me, but she permitted them to do so anyway. She knew that I enjoyed pain, so she found more…creative…ways to punish me. There are times when I reflect on that, and I think that she went too far intentionally, that she took advantage of me. When I learned about safe practice when you and I were first doing scenes together, it seemed so clear that what she and I did together didn't fall into the purview of 'Safe, Sane and Consensual' or 'Risk Aware Consensual Kink.' But other times I think…I consented. In the beginning, I did. I gave her control, granted her power, and thus negated my right to protest. I agreed to be hers to do with as she would. I have no right to be unhappy with the outcome of that decision."
"She punished you for using your safe word," said Dean. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," whispered Castiel.
"While you were in subspace, she forced you into situations she knew you didn't like after depriving you of the ability to escape them," continued Dean. Castiel nodded, crumpling in on himself. "She isolated you from your family for two years. She offered to help you and then turned that against you. She—"
"Stop."
"Cas—"
"Dean, I mean it," said Castiel.
"Sorry," mumbled Dean.
"You have to understand…you don't understand…Naomi was everything. She was everything. My world was circumscribed by her desires; the purpose of my existence was to be pleasing to her. The consequences for failing were catastrophic, but no matter how hard I tried I always failed. I always fail, Dean. I can't do this. I can't."
"Do you want me to leave, Cas?"
"No!" exclaimed Castiel. "Please, no. I'm doing my best to be what – who – you want, Dean."
"That's the problem," Dean said. "Cas, don't change yourself for me. I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm not trying to fix you or…or…or train you or something." Castiel flinched. "You don't need to be what I want. I have to be what you want. Or we have to be what each other wants. It's something we do together, something we negotiate ahead of time, something that's good and enjoyable for both of us because we've talked about it. But I saw you right now – my use of the word 'training' hurt you. And I had no fricken idea it might do that. How many other things have I said – how many things have I done – that have inadvertently hurt you?"
"It's not your fault, Dean."
"I know that, but it feels like – shit, it feels like all I've done is fuck up." Dean burst to his feet again and paced away. "I mean, some of it's been my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you. I shouldn't have shown up when I knew you didn't want to meet me. I shouldn't have…and I can't say sorry enough. That's not going to fix what's broken between us. I can't do this, either."
With a gasp, Castiel's breath snagged, his chest compressed, his vision blurred with sudden tears. No, no please, please don't give up on me, please don't go…wait, what? I've been pushing him away, I've been trying to break this relationship, I haven't trusted him, this is my fault. And now that I've finally gotten him to give up on me…it hurts, it hurts so much.
"Cas, I can't be your dom," Dean reiterated. Catching his lip between his teeth, unable to look at Dean, Castiel nodded with resignation. "A dom/sub relationship requires absolute trust, and we obviously don't have that. I was an idiot to think that it would be possible long-distance and you got hurt as a result. I've hurt so many people – I can't do that anymore. I can't be that person. I don't want to be a person who hurts others and doesn't give a shit."
"I understand, Dean," Castiel said sadly. "I've abused your trust. My weakness – my inability to overcome my deficiencies has rebounded to cause harm to you. That was never my intention. It was foolish of me to think that I could be a submissive again, knowing how damaged I am. I—"
"Woah, hold on Cas," Dean interrupted. "Don't throw yourself on your sword yet. And would you quit it with how weak and deficient and damaged you are? I don't think that – I don't think any of that about you. You're the strongest sub I've ever met. You have so much potential—" Castiel shuddered. "Okay, so scratch 'training' and 'potential' off my vocabulary list. Good to know. Cas, I can't help you heal as your dom. Scenes have to be a safe, consensual place, and they can't be that when there's the danger of any given interaction causing the kinds of reaction you keep having. Like, there are words that just set you off – take you back to some bad mojo – and I'm sympathetic but I can't risk both of us by continuing when we're vulnerable and I have no idea what your triggers are. While I'm your dom ain't the time to sort this shit out. There's no amount of doing scenes together that's gonna stop you from having random panic attacks."
"I said I understand," scowled Castiel. "This…this oral gymnastics of self-justification isn't necessary, we—"
"I want to be your boyfriend, Cas!" Dean said in a rush.
Jaw agape, Castiel looked up at Dean. At some point, Dean had stopped pacing and now stood staring at Castiel with such…hope…no, that couldn't be right.
"Dean…"
"You've got baggage," continued Dean, desperation tinging his voice. "I get that. Now, I get that. But – fuck, Cas – I've never met anyone like you. I want to get to know you better and – not gonna lie – I want you to fuck my brains out. I want to rebuild the trust between us. I want to help you – I want to support you while you get the help you need, cause dude, you clearly need more help than I can give you. But you don't have to go it alone. And when you're doin' better, we can try the dom/sub thing again."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious," agreed Dean. "I want a relationship. With you. Not as your dom. Just as Dean, the dude you met over the internet. I think you're hot and smart and, like, seriously committed to your job and you dig the same kinky shit that I do but…just…you need help. And that's fine. I needed help to." At Castiel's wide-eyed look, Dean gave him a lopsided grin. "I may have understated how badly being with Alastair fucked me up. So I found a therapist, and we talked it all out over the course of like five fucking years, and now I take one of these—" Dean pulled out his wallet and withdrew a baggie with small pills in it. "—every day. Prozac, man. Breakfast of champions. And it helps. It really helps. I still talk to Dr. Barnes every week. I don't know if your issue is depression or anxiety or PTSD or what. All I know is that scening with you has been the best thing I've had going in years and I don't want it to end just 'cause some raving lunatic psycho hose beast bitch fucked with your head. You're not broken, Cas. A little sick, maybe, but not busted beyond repair."
Therapy…meds…he thinks this is fixable? That I'm not deviant and disgusting beyond repair? Does he think Naomi is a mental illness?
In the end, it's all the same. He thinks there's something wrong with me. He thinks he knows the magical way to solve it. There is something wrong with me. And there's no way to fix it. I'm cracked and have been since the day I was born.
Except…he's not Naomi. He's really not Naomi. Naomi said she was the answer to every problem. If I was more like her, if I let her control me more, if I did more for her, if I strove ever on towards her ideal, if I followed her directions and trusted her implicitly than I wasn't beyond hope.
Dean doesn't promise any of that. Dean says the meds help, not that they solve every problem. He's suggesting I talk to someone else, not make him the center of my universe. He doesn't want me to keep secrets, doesn't want to isolate me, doesn't want to keep me. He's not offering to fix me. He's not calling me disgusting. He just wants to help.
"You're really nothing like her," Castiel murmured, catching Dean's eye and managing a weak smile. Dean's returning one was breathtakingly radiant. "You're…" He shook his head. He didn't have the words to describe Dean. What words he thought of terrified him, reminded him strongly of his initial reactions to Naomi – beautiful, brilliant, strong, perfect, so perfect, how could you ever be interested in me? "It's not that I don't trust you, Dean." The happy look on Dean's face dimmed painfully. "Don't mistake me. You're right. I don't. But it's not about you. It's about me. Everything about you just seems so…so…so perfect but I thought that before and I cannot go through that again." Dean's smile returned, still restrained but once more hopeful, when Castiel called him perfect. "I don't trust myself, Dean. I don't trust my assessment."
What if I could get fixed? What if I could better?
No. I was drawn to Naomi because she offered a quick fix – a promise to magically repair everything that was wrong with me. Would therapy be the same? Would meds be the same? There is no magic bullet to seal the cracks that run through me.
No. Dean didn't say it would be magic. Dean didn't say it would be easy. He said it took him years and that he still is in treatment.
"It sounds like you still trust Naomi," said Dean bluntly. A hand seemed to choke at Castiel's throat. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I suck at keeping my mouth shut. I'm saying – she said all this shit to you, right? Come on Cas, stay with me – right, she filled your head with bull, didn't she?" Focusing on Dean's words, Castiel nodded, unsure what Dean was getting at. "So, you acknowledge she was full of it but you still believe what she told you. You don't think you're, what, deviant or some shit – that's just what she said, isn't it?" All Castiel could do was stare. "Come on, work with me, Cas."
He's right, oh my God he is completely right. That voice that so often sounds like her, that says things that hurt me so terribly…I'm still listening to her. I left so many years ago but I'm still taking her assessment of me, of the world, over my own assessment.
"Fuck all that shit she said, and listen to what I say. I'm, like, about a million times more awesome than she is? And I think you're fucking awesome." Dean beamed at him.
He is, he really is. He's so completely different from her. And he wants to be my dom. He wants to be my boyfriend.
What do I want?
"I…really want to kiss you right now," said Castiel, coloring and looking away. Dean chuckled.
"Don't hold back on my account." Dean gave him a wicked grin that fell away in startlement as Castiel launched himself from his chair to land awkwardly against Dean, pressing their lips together sloppily. Dean's mouth was soft, a contrast to Castiel's lips chapped by his constant swims in chlorinated water. Their noses bumped, their teeth clicked, Dean caught Castiel by the elbows, held him up and leaned in to him passionately, a warm, solid wall of strength. As large and muscular as he was, Dean's physical presence could have been intimidating, but it wasn't. He was a like a cuddly bear – or a snuggly stuffed cat? – and Castiel wanted to bury himself in Dean's acceptance. Touching Dean now was nothing like it had been the night before; where last evening had been chaste, calm, defined by care and consideration, this was hot and desperate, lips meeting, tongues flicking together, Dean nearly trembling with self-restraint. Part of Castiel wanted to demand that Dean not hold back – push me around, slam me into the bed, take whatever you want, Dean, I'm yours – but the previous week had shaken Castiel. He was still unsure, still frightened, still dull and achy after Adler's treatment the day before—
Castiel tore away from Dean's embrace, breathing hard. "Yesterday—" He choked and coughed, disgusted with himself. How dare I accept any of Dean's kindnesses after what I did? "I was…I was with someone. Someone else."
"I know," said Dean. Castiel looked at him in shock again. "I mean, I assumed…"
"And you're not upset?" asked Castiel.
"We never said we were exclusive, Cas," Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm upset because it's obvious whoever it was treated you like total shit. And I'm upset because you went to someone who hurt you rather than simply talking to me. But…well, staying upset with you ain't gonna get us anywhere. Now, that said – you tell me who hurt you and I will fucking destroy them if you want."
"I can take care of myself, Dean," said Castiel.
"Fuck – 'course you can," Dean rolled his eyes again. "Dude, you're like some bigwig corporate executive whose job takes him all over the world or some shit. You could take care of all your employees and whoever the heck you work with and me and probably have enough energy left to take care of a few other people to boot. But that doesn't mean I don't want to fuck up someone who hurt you."
"Why?" asked Castiel. Dean was too impossible. No one could be as amazing as Dean. He's not, it's a lie, he'll hurt you too, just wait and see…
"Because you don't deserve to be hurt?" said Dean as if he couldn't believe Castiel would even ask the question. "Cas, this is about consensual kink, it's supposed to ultimately be enjoyable for everyone involved." Disbelieving, Castiel shook his head. It's supposed to be enjoyable for my dom. I'm supposed to be enjoyable for my dom. That's it. What I want is— "She really did a number on you, didn't she."
"Yes," Castiel conceded in wonder. "Yes, I suppose she did."
Dean flopped down on to the bed, causing the springs to squeak and the pillows to bounce. Spreading his legs wide, he held out his arms in invitation. "You want to tell me about it?"
No, not at all.
But maybe I need to.
Hesitantly, Castiel climbed on to the bed and settled between Dean's legs. Dean instantly embraced him, wrapping arms around his chest, tucking their legs together, and drew Castiel with him as Dean leaned back against the headboard. For a delightful moment, Castiel reveled in the feeling of being held safe, taking long, slow breaths. One of Dean's hands idly traced a soothing line down Castiel's abs.
"When she was unhappy with me, she'd chain me to the radiator in a small room in her basement," Castiel whispered. His throat felt thick, his skin electric, but Dean was a solid weight behind him, around him, hot air blew on Castiel's neck with every exhale, and Castiel felt protected. The past couldn't hurt him, not here, not now, not as long as Dean refused to give up on him. "She'd keep me there for days – weeks, if she could get away with it – with no food and minimal water." Muscles flexed against Castiel's shoulders as Dean strained and resisted the clear desire to draw Castiel in closer, tighter. Instead, Dean kept his hug loose enough that Castiel could free himself if he wished. He had no desire to move, though. Dean's embrace wasn't dangerous.
"She'd let other doms…" A whimper forced itself from Castiel as tears leaked from his eyes. Twisting in Dean's arms, Castiel wrapped an arm around his shoulders, lay his other hand on Dean's side, curled himself up in the circle of Dean's bowed legs, and tucked his forehead and the bridge of his nose against Dean's neck. Every inhale filled his nose with Dean's musky, leathery scent. "She'd let other doms, male doms, have sex with me."
The first confession.
Dean said nothing, but he continued his tender ministrations. An unknown amount of time passed before Castiel found the strength to continue.
"One time, she…"
Little by little, Castiel forced the words out while Dean listened. Occasionally, Dean would murmur wordless reassurance, but mostly Dean held him and took care of him as Castiel expelled the words like carving gangrenous flesh from around a gaping wound.
A knock on the door woke Castiel to a darkened room. He didn't recall dozing off. Dean was still wrapped around him, though their positions had shifted. Gentle patting on Castiel's back encouraged him to move, and he did so, allowing Dean to answer the door. A delicious smell permeated the room. Dean exchanged quiet words with someone and wheeled in a cart of room service.
"Thought you might be hungry," said Dean, sounding strangely shy.
"You're absolutely perfect," murmured Castiel with a happy sigh that melted him against the bed. Speaking hadn't gotten easier, but Castiel had kept talking, dredged up every flashback he'd had over the past weeks, recalled every horror that he'd been too afraid to even think of over the years. For once, remembering didn't equate to reliving. Though Castiel quaked and cried, he didn't panic and he didn't flashback. Thinking on it now as, blearily, he watched Dean take the silver cloche from a plate of steak and potatoes, Castiel knew precisely what was different.
"You're not Naomi," he murmured. Dean looked up at him, startled, and then smiled warmly and gestured invitation at dinner. "You're not Zachariah or Uriel or any of the others. You're not Naomi. And you're not Alastair. I'm so glad you're you, Dean."
"I'm glad you're you too, Cas," said Dean. "Now sit up, we gotta get some food in you."
"No," said Castiel, shaking his head. Dean frowned. "You don't understand. I'm glad you're…I'm glad…my boyfriend?" Understanding blossomed like golden dawn on Dean's face. "I'm glad you're my boyfriend, Dean."
"Me too, Cas," Dean smiled at him shyly and nudged the plate towards Castiel. "Me too."
Castiel woke up.
He turned off his alarm.
He snuggled with Dean.
They took a chaste shower together: not too cold, not too hot.
"Goldilocks shower," Dean joked, and Castiel stared at the Adonis of tanned skin and pale brown hair standing with him and thought Goldilocks was an apt description.
They exchanged small talk over a light continental breakfast.
They hugged goodbye and agreed to meet up that night at a restaurant downtown.
Castiel promised he'd leave work no later than 9 PM.
The morning was pleasantly sunny as Castiel walked the few blocks to the Sandover Building.
The clock on the church tower tolled 8 bells.
Castiel waved cheerful good morning to a mildly surprised security guard.
The elevator chimed each floor as Castiel ascended to the 20th.
Castiel would have an hour or two to catch up on everything he'd missed the day before.
He made his way to his office.
He opened the door.
He closed it behind him.
His gaze took in the room in an instant.
His desk. The chair for a guest. His computer. The chair behind his desk.
Naomi Tapping sitting in his chair.
"Hello, Castiel."
"No."
Her lips curved into a familiar, frigid smile.
Suddenly, Castiel was 20 years old again, alone and frightened and trying so damn hard to be perfect.
"I missed you."
No, no, no. I can't do this. I can't be what she needs. I can't be hers again. I DO NOT WANT to be hers again.
His hand found the doorknob.
It was locked.
"Dean," he whispered, a prayer, a desperate cry for help.
He didn't know why he bothered to pray any longer.
He learned when he was 20 that there was no God.
There was only Naomi.
"After all the work I put into training you, you dare invoke anyone's name but mine? You disappoint me, Castiel. I'll remind you who owns you."
"No," Castiel mouthed, no sound coming out.
Dean cares about me. I matter to Dean. Dean respects my limits. Dean listened to everything and he still held me like I was precious. Dean doesn't think I'm broken.
"You will speak loudly and clearly when addressing your mistress."
Dean wants to be my boyfriend.
"No."
And I want to be Dean's sub.
Rising smoothly, Naomi casually backhanded him across the cheek. Castiel's ears rang but he didn't flinch and he didn't move. He had always been larger than her, yet she'd cowed him so easily. No longer. Never again.
Naomi doesn't own me any longer. She doesn't have a right to my body, my mind, my past, or my future.
"I said no," said Castiel more confidently.
"I got such an interesting phone call yesterday," she continued as if Castiel hadn't defied her. "My old friend Zach, moved south to Texas, telling me that he's found my wayward pet, that he's used my wayward pet, that my pet is still obedient and docile and exceptionally giving, but also still rebellious. He said you were his now. But we both know the truth, don't we? You're mine. You always were, and you always will be."
"I asked Adler to help me with one scene," Castiel said with what power he could muster. It was hard, so hard. His heart raced, his palms were sweaty, but he held the thought of Dean firmly in his mind.
"Castiel—"
"No," he interrupted her. Oh God, I interrupted her, I'm talking over her, she's going to— "Adler is not my dom. You are not my dom. You will leave my office. Now, Naomi."
"And if I don't?" Naomi said, unimpressed.
Castiel had no answer to that.
She's got me again. I'm trapped again. She can—
She can what, exactly? She can't force me. I was never hers because she could over power me. I was hers because I agreed to be hers. The rest followed from that initial consent.
I do not consent.
"What do you hope to accomplish by imprisoning me here?" he said, changing tactics.
What was she ever hoping to accomplish? Chain me and punish me and train me…I can't do this again, I can't, she has to leave, she has to, she has to let me go!
"Reclaiming what is mine," she said. "I've spent nearly two decades searching for your replacement, Castiel, but as difficult as you could be, there is no one else like you."
Wait. That…almost sounded like a compliment.
"I missed you so much," she continued more warmly. "You've aged beautifully, too. You were always such a good boy when you wanted to be. Over the years I've wished I could find you. I've wondered many times – how did you look? How did your scars fade? You…"
The first compliments washed over him comfortingly, sickening Castiel with the response he couldn't prevent. However, at the mention of his scars, his positive reaction shut down. It was gratifying, after a fashion, to know she still thought of him so, but it was irrelevant. With every blink Castiel saw Dean behind his eyelids; not Dean as his dom, not Dean powerful and in control, but Dean as he had appeared that morning: disheveled, hair askew, clothing wrinkled, eyes sleepy, smile dopey, body warm. Dean wasn't only offering Castiel compliments. He wasn't only offering Castiel training or control or a "quick fix." Dean was offering himself. He wanted Castiel, flaws and all. Dean acknowledged that he'd made mistakes and had apologized. Dean had shown vulnerability. Dean was responsive to Castiel's needs, respectful of Castiel's desires, appropriately wary of Castiel's limits.
There was nothing Naomi could say or do that could compare to what Dean offered unconditionally. She continued to speak, watching him intently, but Castiel tuned her out. The door was yet locked, the office claustrophobic, the air thick. Castiel's pulse quickened, his breathing sped up, but he held on to the image of Dean, settled into the office chair opposite Naomi, and did his best to keep calm.
Naomi couldn't hurt him without his consent.
She had to let him out eventually.
I've thought that before and been proved wrong…
Endnote: I now know for certain that this story will be 8 chapters long.
Also, unexpected bonus: next chapter will be from Dean's PoV! I'd been wanting to work it in somehow and realized that upcoming events will be much easier to portray and more interesting to read as seen from his perspective. :)