So things were not going well. Dean's dad had calmed down a bit and Sam really was sending out all this weird positive energy. He had been for a week, and Cas hadn't been over once. Apparently John was taking some time off and just hanging around the house, which usually Dean would like, but not under the circumstances.
On Friday, Jo had work, Adam had a family thing, Garth was sick, and Ash was out of town, so they didn't get together. Next Friday was a go though—and Dean was going, regardless of what his dad said.
He was still picking Cas up and Cas stayed true to his word and hadn't shut Dean out. He acted a little differently, but he was still there.
"Hey, Cas."
Tuesday, Sam was in the back seat, and Dean gave Cas a peck on the lips. He seemed a bit surprised, probably because Sam was there.
"Hello, Dean. Sam."
"It's cool," Sam said in an explanatory manner. "Dean told me."
"Ah. I see."
"We're still on for next Friday, right?" Dean asked.
"What does your dad say?"
Dean gave him a sideways glance. "He doesn't say anything."
"Dean—"
"Seriously, Cas? Come on. I'll just tell him I'm going by myself."
"So you'll lie."
"Yes, I'll lie. Teenagers lie to their parents, that's what they do."
"Teenagers that lie also get busted."
"Only sometimes. Oh—and Jo wants you to bring some of your stuff this time."
"Don't change the subject.
A snicker came from the back seat and Dean glared at Sam through the rearview mirror. "What's so funny?"
"You two bicker like a married couple."
"Ha! See, Cas? If you want to keep us on the lowdown, you'll have to start agreeing with me."
"Considering that Anna, your dad, and Sam all know, I wouldn't really qualify this as a secret anymore."
"Well, Jo's probably gonna pick up on it. Her spidey sense will start tingling."
"Her spidey sense or your boisterous lips?"
"Hey. These lips are not boisterous. No boister. None whatsoever. Wanna check?"
"No particularly," Cas said in disinterest.
"Hello? Young ears in the car," Sam said, waving from the back.
"Sam, you have a girlfriend. You're officially a man now," Dean said.
"First of all, she's not my girlfriend. Second of all, does that make you a boy or a woman?"
Cas covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, leaving a very flustered Dean unable to come up with any decent comeback.
"Hey, Dad. Are we doing anything tomorrow night?"
Dean looked up from his homework surrounding him on the couch. Without having his personal archaic dictionary in his pocket, he found reading and understanding The Odyssey (the part they were reading, at least) extremely time consuming.
In the kitchen, Sam was doing dishes and John was flipping through a paper from another state. It was something he did between cases and with all his sudden free time, he'd been going through loads of out-of-state papers, searching for clues that might point to their mom's killer.
"Just staying home, I think," he said as he flipped to the next page. His way of telling Dean without actually saying that he wasn't going anywhere and no one was coming here—even though he insisted that Dean wasn't grounded. Bullshit. "Why?"
"I was thinking," Sam said casually, "That I could have a friend over for dinner."
"Well, I don't see why n—"
"And Dean could bring Cas. He hasn't been over here in a while."
Dean could just kiss Sam. Pulling the innocent, I-know-nothing, I-miss-Cas card. Because, as far as John knew, Sam didn't know about Dean and Cas.
"Sam, I don't know."
"Ah, c'mon, Dad. Cas is cool. And he spends a lot of time by himself because his mom's gone and his dad is always working."
"Sam, I know you mean well, but there's some things you don't understand."
"Like what, that Cas is Dean's boyfriend?"
John was shocked into silence and Dean decided to watch how this scene would unfold without interrupting.
"I…you…well, yes, but…"
"Dad. You didn't have a problem with sexuality before, so what's your issue with Dean and Cas?"
John looked into the living room at Dean before turning his head back to Sam and saying, "Mr. Novak is too close for comfort to a person of interest."
"What are you talking about?" Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean got up and went to stand at the opposite end of the table. "What 'person of interest'?"
"I'm getting closer," John said. "And if I get too close and you're involved, it could be dangerous for you."
"Walking down the street is dangerous, Dad. And do you know how many times you've 'gotten close'?"
"Don't speak to me like that. I'm trying, Dean. I'm trying really hard—"
"How is Cas's dad involved? Does someone work in the same place as him? Did they go to the same school? Were they in the grocery store at the same time? Do their names start with the same letter?"
John frowned at his son. "She stayed over. Twice."
"So? He has lots of girls over. He's not the world's greatest person."
"None of this has anything to do with Cas," Sam piped in. "Dad, I get that seeing Dean with a guy might've freaked you out a little, but Cas is great as far as I'm concerned."
John stared at Sam hard, eyebrows furrowing, then gave Dean a stern look. "Dinner. Friday night. Dean, you invite Cas, and Sam, you invite whoever you wanted to. "I'm going to see Bobby in Lawrence and won't be back in time to get food ready, so that's up to you. Have it ready by six thirty."
Dean grinned. "Thanks, Dad."
"Don't thank me yet."
The bell screeched, ten times louder than it usually was, due to Cas' head already throbbing. He knew Dean would be waiting at his locker when he got there, but he really just wanted to be left alone in his misery today. Being sick made him sour.
"Hey, Birdstiel."
Cas groaned. "Really?"
"That's not how you return a greeting, silly."
"And that's not my name."
"Jeez, who pissed on your pancakes today?"
"The universe. As usual." Cas opened his locker and tried not to slam his books, knowing he'd regret it when the sound ricocheted off the walls of his skull a few dozen times.
"Well, maybe this'll cheer you up. Sam's amazing and you're coming over, along with Jess, for dinner on Friday."
"I thought we were going to Lawrence on Friday," Cas said, trying to reason himself out of getting frustrated with Dean.
"Ash got grounded, Jo's got a family thing, and Garth's out of town. Adam said not to bother and that we'll get together over Thanksgiving break."
Cas closed his eyes and tried to relax. Having a social life—small and Dean-related as it was—was more than Cas was used to dealing with. "So instead, I'll be invading upon an extremely awkward family dinner and praying the whole time that your father won't shoot me."
Dean took his shoulder off the row of lockers and stood up straight. "Fine. Stay at home and have your own family dinner. I don't want to be late for class." He turned and left, and Cas wanted to dig a hole in the middle of the school hallway, burrow deep down, and sleep the day away.
They didn't exchanged a word in painting, and when it came time for lunch, Cas waited in the bathroom for the bell to ring.
Since Mr. Winchester caught him and Dean, Cas had been making a conscious effort to get to Economics; it gave him a chance to see Dean a little more. He considered skipping today, but figured he'd already seen him in painting and he needed to stop being such a baby anyway. So he forced himself to move his feet in the direction of Mr. Roman's room. He was in his seat moments before the bell rang and avoided looking at Dean.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today, I've got a stock market packet for you to work on." He held up what could have been a novel manuscript and the class gave a collective groan. "Now don't worry, I'm not that mean, hold your complaints. This will be a partner activity."
Well, that was swell. Hey, Dean, I know I was an ass five minutes ago, but want to be partners now? Of course, there were other people he could work with—
Dean shifted his desk so it was right beside Cas' and got up to retrieve the packet from the front desk. "Your writing's better," he said, shoving it toward Cas.
The ninety minutes passed tersely, but they passed, and neither of them bit the other's head off. Bonus points.
"Castiel," Mr. Roman said after the dismissal bell rang, "Come see me at the end of the day."
Suddenly, Castiel's headache seemed a lot smaller, the majority of the pain moving to his stomach. The universe really really hated him today.
He panicked his way through Latin, completely oblivious to a snarky comment Zachariah made when Mrs. Allen left the room for a minute.
And after that class, Castiel found himself walking to Mr. Roman's room because he could never escape. Mr. Roman shut the door behind him and turned the lock.
"Castiel. I've noticed you've been coming to class more lately, but your grades are still suffering. I thought last year's arrangement for Government worked quite well, if you'd like to consider that again."
Of course, there was no considering involved.
Get on your knees, Castiel. Get on your knees or I'll let your father know just how many times you skipped class.
And if his father had any notion of how high the count actually was…well, Castiel couldn't let that happen. So he obeyed like a good little student and Castiel had gotten on his knees.
It was blackmail, really.
This year, he'd tried to solve the problem by skipping class entirely, but then along came Dean. If he could blame him for ending up back here, maybe it would be easier—but probably not. And he couldn't blame Dean anyway. He only had himself. He should've never let it happen the first time. He should've told someone or just avoided the class entirely. He should've paid attention to the bad feeling he got in his stomach, but he'd still been trying in school at the beginning of last year, so of course he couldn't ditch class because of a bad feeling.
Don't forget to count, he reminded himself as Mr. Roman unzipped his pants. But as soon as he took Dick's dick in his mouth (how fitting), everything seemed wrong. This was disgusting—he'd always known that, but now especially. He could practically hear Dean in his head, scolding him. But I have to.
"Castiel, you know what happened last time you did poorly."
Dick's voice brought him back to reality and he tried to focus more on the task at hand, but Dean refused to stop pushing into his thoughts. Pretend it's Dean. But he couldn't—Dean wouldn't make him do this and Dean would feel right, he was sure. Over the course of last year, he'd perfected his blowjob abilities—it was better than the alternative—but he couldn't focus enough now.
Dick pushed him away in disgust, banging the back of Castiel's head against the edge of a desk.
He pointed to the wall and Cas did as he was told and slipped out of his pants and underwear. Dick pushed him forcefully against the wall and Cas closed his eyes. Count. He number off the seconds in his head and tried to imagine it was just a bad dream. It would end, and he would wake up and try to continue with his nightmarish life as if the bad dream had never happened.
Tears pricked at his eyes when Dick didn't ease him open at all first. Don't speak, count. He thought about the coolness of the wall. He imagined he could hear the clock ticking in time with his seconds over Dick's heavy breath in his ear. He pictured flecks of gold sunlight reflecting of blades of perfect green grass and tried to get lost in the imagining, but he realized it was just Dean's eyes and then he felt guilty because he should be fighting this, but he couldn't, damn it, and then it was over.
Mr. Roman pulled out of him and Cas stayed pressed against the wall for several seconds before putting his clothes back on and going to the door.
"Check your grades tonight, Castiel," he said as Castiel turned the doorknob.
Walking home it was cold and Cas was reminded that it was November which was a good thing because that meant it was almost December which meant the year was almost half over.
He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders and wondered when the first snowfall would be. He supposed he should also think about apologizing to Dean and figure out if his dad would be around (and sober) Friday. And he should try to find out what he didn't have going on over Thanksgiving break.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn't feel liking pulling it out and freezing his fingers.
When he got home and found his father's car was still in the driveway, he sighed. But at least it was warmer inside.
"Castiel."
Now what.
"Yes, Dad?"
"Someone's here to see you."
Cas frowned, clueless, and followed his dad's voice to the kitchen. He hadn't seen any other vehicles in the driveway, but he hadn't really looked in the street…oh. Of course it was Dean.
"You didn't tell me you had a school project due Monday," his dad said.
And he was sober for once. Wow. "That's because we don't."
"Yeah, we do," Dean said quickly. "Remember the history presentation?"
"No, I don't," Castiel said, unwilling to let Dean show up while Cas' dad was home without making it hard for him.
"You're funny," Dean said. "I just brought some notes over and I have a couple ideas about the visual aids."
Kudos on word selection, Cas though as Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat.
"Oh, right," Cas said, pretending to remember all of a sudden, when all he really felt like doing was sleeping. "I thought that was due on Friday."
"Nope, the date got changed," Dean said unnecessarily.
"We'll be in my room, Dad."
"Not too long, okay?"
"Nope," Cas assured.
Once the door was shut behind them and it was just the two of them, Dean apologized immediately. "Sorry I was being a dick today."
"You weren't being a dick," Cas said. "But I was acting like an ass."
"No, you told me you felt like shit and I wasn't being considerate at all."
"You were excited about a dinner your dad said yes to. I should've been, too."
"Damn it, Cas, stop saying stuff like that. 'I should have.' No, you shouldn't have. You were having a bad day. Normal people have bad days. I should have—"
Cas moved closer to Dean. "If I can't say I should have, neither can you."
A smiled played at the corners of Dean's mouth. "Fair enough." He kissed Castiel soft and sweet, but Cas pulled quickly away. He was still disgusting. "What's wrong?" Dean asked.
"I don't know if I'm contagious," Castiel lied easily.
Dean moved his lips to Cas' neck instead, but Cas could only think about Mr. Roman's breath and suddenly he absolutely had to shower right that very moment.
"Dean?"
"Hm?" His lips trailed lightly along Cas' jaw line and he desperately wanted to be able to enjoy that, but first he had to get clean.
"I need to go shower. Do you want to stay or go?"
"I can wait," Dean said, moving to sit on the edge of Cas' bed. "You smell weird," he added. "You smell…not like you."
"Like I said." Cas grabbed some clothes at random and went into the bathroom. His fingers itched for a blade, but with Dean sitting just down the hall, he didn't dare. Instead, he vigorously scrubbed every inch of skin for five minutes, scratching too hard in some places and making the flesh raw.
He couldn't believe he'd messed up with Mr. Roman. He knew he could've done better if he'd just had a bit more time to clear his head. And then it wouldn't have had to hurt.
He poured too much shampoo into his palm and washed his hair—twice—before getting out of the shower.
There was a knock on the door. "Cas?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"I'm going into town. I'll be back later, 'kay?"
Cas kept the frown out of his voice. "Okay. Wait—are we doing anything Friday?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"I was hoping to go over to Dean's to work on the project."
"Sure," his dad said. "Overnight or no?"
"I don't think so."
"Alright. Have fun."
Cas clung to his father's voice, not slurred, a little pained, maybe a little sad, but kind. He tucked it away for a time when he'd really need it. This was a rare occasion. He dried off and go into the jeans and long-sleeved navy tee he'd grabbed. He attempted to dry his hair, but gave up as he usually did, leaving it sticking out ever which way.
Back in his room, Dean was sprawled out on his bed, flipping through an old sketchbook. Cas snatched it from his hands and kicked it under the bed.
"Hey! I was looking at that!"
"Those are awful," Cas argued.
"Right, because there wasn't one in there that looked exactly like Anna."
"You could only tell because of her hair."
Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Cas' wrist, pulling him down next to him. "So, Castiel. Your father has left the premises. What should we do now?"
Cas curled up against Dean's side. "Get warm."
Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around Cas. "Are you always cold?"
"Most of the time."
Dean reached for a blanket and buried them beneath it, with only their heads poking out. "There," he said, satisfied with his work and snuggling down.
All Cas wanted was to take pleasure in lying under the covers with Dean, but once against, today was not his day. He couldn't clear earlier from his head and he couldn't punish himself because Dean was here and he really didn't want to tell Dean to leave anyway because they were alone and that had become a rare thing lately.
Dean slid his fingers through Cas' damp hair. "You're not all here."
"What?"
"You're distracted. What are you thinking about?"
How stupid I am. "Friday."
Dean smiled. "That's all thanks to Sam," he said. "Turns out, part of the problem—" He seemed to choke on his own words.
"What was part of the problem?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"You were lying, too."
"You can't call me a liar just because I called you a liar," Cas said.
"Cas, I'm not stupid. You lie a lot. Maybe not big lies, but little ones. I just take them and try not to mind."
Cas frowned and didn't say anything.
"Hey." Dean waited until Cas was looking him in the eyes. "I trust you. If you don't want to tell me something, okay. It's not like you're sneaking around with somebody else behind my back.
Cas' frown deepened. "How long have you been able to figure that out?"
"A while. Good instincts."
"Sorry."
"Dude, you don't have to apologize."
But Cas was going to prove that he could do it right, even if Mr. Roman wasn't there to experience it. And he was going to apologize better, too. "When do you have to be home?"
"I dunno," Dean said. "Why the sudden subject change?"
"Because. We've got some time to ourselves, why not make use of it?"
"I like the sound of that," Dean said with a grin.
Cas lifted his chin to press his lips to Dean's. He took his time working Dean up, and after a few minutes, Dean paused to say, "You can kiss like a fucking porn star."
But Cas could do much more than that.
He bit Dean's lip and earned a low moan. Pushing the blanket away, he slid his leg over so he was straddling Dean's hips and bent to kiss him again.
Dean reached to pull Cas' shirt up over his head, but Cas grabbed both his wrists and, entwining their fingers, held them on the bed by Dean's head.
"That's not fair—" Dean started before Cas invaded his mouth. Dean's lips were warm and welcoming, but Cas soon moved on from that. He left Dean panting and undid the button and zipper on Dean's jeans. "Oh, hell yes," Dean said without lifting his head.
Cas pulled the other boy's pants and boxers off and lowered his head to take Dean in his mouth, Dean's breath catching.
While Cas worked him, Dean wasn't the most coherent, mostly just saying "fuck" and "Cas", but Cas didn't mind; that meant he was doing it right this time.
Every time Dean got close to climaxing, Cas slowed down to prolong the pleasure. "Cas, c'mon," Dean whimpered after the second time.
"Don't worry," Cas said, stretching to whisper in Dean's ear. "I promise, it's going to feel so good." And then he brought his head back down between Dean's legs.
When he got close a third time, Dean's fingers tightened in Cas' hair, warning him, but when Dean's hips bucked, Cas took him in all the way and swallowed.
Dean collapsed on the bed, panting, and Cas wiped the corners of his mouth. It was a salty, known taste, but Cas found it preferable to the usual. After all, this was Dean, and everything was better with Dean.
"You're fucking crazy," Dean breathed as Cas crawled up and pulled Dean's shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Cas said quietly.
"But how come I'm completely naked and you're still fully dressed?"
"I'm obviously the dominant one in this relationship."
Dean adjusted his head to look at Cas. "So much for worrying about being contagious."
Cas smiled wickedly. "My headache went away fourth block."
Dean shoved his shoulder playfully.
"That was weak," Cas teased.
"Oh? Well, let's see you get sucked off by an expert and do any better. Where did you learn that anyway? I thought you only had one girlfriend."
"I think I'll keep that a secret," Cas said.
Dean nipped at his ear and in a low voice said, "Next time you'll be naked."
"We'll see about that," Cas whispered before Dean kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and, finally, on the lips.
"You're mouth is a sin, you know that?" Dean said.
"So is your everything."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
And maybe that was a bad thing to say, but Cas just wanted Deandeandean right now and didn't care how het got it.
Still covered in a sheen of sweat, Dean rolled on top of Cas, pinning him to the bed. "You're going to regret saying that," he growled, sliding a hand under Cas' shirt.
Castiel knew he'd have to stop him if he tried to take it off completely, but this was okay—this was more than okay—and Dean didn't seem disgusted by how skinny Cas was, so that was good. As he pushed Cas' shirt up, he left kisses on the exposed skin. He brought his lips back to Cas' and Cas closed his eyes and imagined for a second that this was all there was.
"What's going on with you?" Dean asked against Cas' cheek.
Cas didn't feel like talking, so he substituted a humming sound for words.
"You're acting funny," Dean said.
"How?" Cas reached up and ran his fingers over Dean's shoulders.
"I don't—I don't know." He stuttered when Cas slid his fingers down to Dean's hips, towards Dean's groin, and then returned them to the back of his neck. "Little things."
"Did I do something wrong?" Cas asked, growing concerned. He propped himself up on his elbows and Dean sat back, avoiding putting too much weight on him.
"No. Not even close. You were awesome. You just…it kind of came out of nowhere. Hey don't look like that." He cupped his hand around Cas' cheek. "I just feel like I'm missing something."
He climbed off Cas and the bed and put his clothes back on, minus the shirt, then crawled back to Cas' side. Cas didn't say it but he thought, It's better that way.
"So. About this dinner," he said. "Friday."
"Yes," Dean replied with a peck on the lips. "You wanna come over right after school? Sam said Jess could."
"Is your dad really okay with it?"
"Yeah, totally. Like I said, Sam talked some magic and stuff just sort of worked itself out."
"So what's on the menu?"
"That has yet to be determined. What do you think?"
"I think it would be good to have something your dad likes."
"Well, he's gonna be in Lawrence for a while," Dean said, "So it's up to us to make something. What are you like in the kitchen?" He nuzzled Ca's neck and kissed just below his ear.
"I'm decent at sandwiches," Cas said, "and I can make killer ramen noodles."
"Any chance I could have a taste of either of those?"
"Just a taste?" Cas teased and nipped Dean's ear.
"Maybe a little more."
Cas smiled and got up to go to the kitchen. He turned back to look at Dean. "You coming?"
"Yeah, I'm getting there."
"Well, we're out of bread, and ramen noodles aren't good cold, so don't take too long."
Dean knew something was wrong. He didn't really have any evidence to back it up, but he knew.
After Cas had gone to the kitchen, Dean gout up and glanced around Cas' room. He didn't think Cas would do drugs and his behavior wasn't that kind of weird. He pulled out a couple drawers and sifted quickly through them—clothes, art stuff, and an old photograph of tow babies, a woman, and a man. Dean recognized the man as Mr. Novak and he assumed the others were Cas, him mom, and Jimmy.
Maybe Cas was on meds and he didn't always take them. Losing a twin could be traumatic, right?
He made his way quietly down the hall and to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he opened the glass cabinet—the mirror had been fixed since Dean last saw it. Advil, Ibuprofen, razors, Nyquil, shaving cream…nothing prescription.
Okay, so what else could it be?
"I'm not bringing you food in bed," Cas' voice came from the kitchen.
Dean shut the cabinet, turned the light off, and left the bathroom.
"So what kind of food does your dad like?" Cas asked.
Dean shrugged as Cas set a bowl of steaming noodles in front of him. "Typical dad stuff. Steak, grill-out food."
"Okay, so we'll make steak."
"Have you ever made it before?" Dean questioned.
"It can't be that hard."
"I guess not. Should we have a practice day so we know for sure?"
"That would require me coming over before Friday," Cas said.
"So?"
"I don't want to push it."
Dean heaved a sigh. "Fine. Hey, aren't you gonna eat?"
"No, I'm not hungry."
"I don't care," Dean said. "You don't eat enough. Sit."
Cas obliged and sat in a chair adjacent to Dean's.
He twirled some ramen noodles around the fork and fed Cas a bite.
"If there was something…going on," Dean said hesitantly, "you'd tell me about it, right?"
Cas gave Dean a look. "Dean, the majority of the student body despises me. I get beat up on a weekly basis. You're gonna have to do better than 'going on'."
"Something besides that."
"Outside of school, there's nothing going on," Cas promised, picking up a noodle with his fingers and dropping it in his mouth to make Dean happy.
"Is there something else happening outside of school?"
"Like what?" Cas asked.
"I don't know."
"Dean."
"Okay, okay. Sorry."