Chapter Ten (Or that really cliché time that a holiday dinner went to shit)
"Fuck, I can't do this."
This is probably the tenth time that Dean has called Cas today. By this call, Cas is spooning filling into the pie crusts. "Dean, it'll be fine," he soothes. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"I have at least ten different horrifying scenarios involving Sam snapping and going on a killing spree. Which one do you want to hear, the one with the carving knife or the one with the oven?"
"I find it hard to believe that Sam would turn into a murderer just because we're dating. He's a very gentle person."
"Yeah? You haven't gotten clocked by him as many times as I have."
Cas sighs and sets the bowl of filling down. "Well by your own admission this isn't the first time you've dated his professor—."
"I wouldn't call most of the other times really dating."
"Logically speaking, what's the probability that this will be the time that prompts a violent outburst?" At Dean's disgruntled silence, Cas goes back to filling his pies. "He may surprise you."
Dean sighs, clearly unconvinced, and changes the subject, "What are you doing?"
"Do you want the sexy version or the true version?"
"The true version, but only if it's sexy."
"Filling the pies."
Dean groans. "Jesus," he says, almost as breathy as he is when Cas has him in his mouth. "Your apartment must smell fucking amazing by now."
"Not as good as you."
"Oh god dammit, stop, it's going to be hard—gah, difficult— enough to keep from grabbing you in front of my brother as it is."
"Well, that would be one way to tell him, though I suggest we go a different route." Satisfied with the filling in the pies, Cas covers them with crust. "How do you keep getting away to call me and have totally unnecessary panic attacks?"
"Sam's watching the parade with Ellen and Ash while Joe and I cook. I threatened to stab Joe if he asks me what I'm up to."
"That was a good idea. There's no possible way he could be suspicious now." The oven beeps behind Cas. "Shit, the oven's hot. I have to finish these pies and then I'll be over in an hour or so."
"No, wait, how are we doing this?"
"I don't know. We'll figure it out."
"That sounds like a terrible plan."
"It isn't a plan. If you want a plan, you're going to have to make it yourself, Dean. This is your family. I don't know them as well as you do." He pauses in thought for a moment. "Actually, a word of advice: don't mention all the sex."
"I'm terrified that you needed to specify that, and one day you will tell me that story."
"Indeed I will not."
"I'll see you soon."
"Get ready for the best pie you've ever tasted."
"Jesus fucking Christ I hate you," Dean grumbles, hanging up.
Cas grins and goes back to his pies.
#
"What the hell is that amazing smell?" Ash yells in the middle of the Toy Group of the National Dog Show.
"Cas!" Sam says, jumping up to greet him. He surprises Cas by giving him a giant hug. "Happy Thanksgiving, man."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Sam."
"Guys, this is Dr. Novak, my advisor. He's been here a few times, but I don't think we ever introduced you," Sam says to the two women perched on the bar stools. "This is Ellen, the only one who puts up with all of us at once. And that's Ash. Don't ask her about your computer troubles if you want to live."
"Please, call me Cas," he says, shifting the container holding the pies to his left side so he can shake their hands. Ash gives him a distinctly mischievous look. This may be more difficult than he was anticipating.
"Here, I'll take the pies in to Dean and Joe. You guys hang out. Any special instructions?" Sam says, relieving Cas of the pies.
"Nope, just the fridge. I'll warm them in the oven for a few minutes before we eat them."
"Awesome. I'll be right back." Sam disappears into the kitchen.
"So, you're Dr. Novak," Ash says, pointedly.
"Ash, leave the poor kid alone," Ellen says, smacking the girl lightly on her way behind the bar. "What do you drink, Cas?"
"I'll have a beer."
"Give him mine!" Ash yells excitedly, bouncing in her seat.
"She brewed a special Thanksgiving beer for today," Ellen explains. "She's very excited."
"It's a brown ale with—."
"Ash, wait until we're drunk to be boring about it," Ellen says. "Here, Cas. So, does Sam know?"
"Know what?" Cas asks, taking a sip of beer. "This is excellent beer."
"Of course it is," Ash says smugly.
Ellen is glaring at him. "What the hell do you think I mean, boy? Does he know about you and his brother?"
"I don't—," Cas starts lamely, but both women are giving him looks of such utter exasperation that he can't finish the lie. "No. Dean insisted we keep it a secret from Sam."
"Well, that's not surprising. He's told you about the other times?"
Cas nods, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. His family is into each others' business like this, too.
Ellen sighs and shrugs. "Well, it won't be pretty when he finds out, I'll tell you that much. Sam will get over it, but it's going to be rough for a while."
Cas grimaces. "I feel terrible, now. We were going to tell Sam about us tonight. I didn't even think about your evening."
"Holy shit this is going to be so much fun," Ash says.
Ellen rolls her eyes at her. "Don't worry about it, Cas. We've had worse holidays. Besides, if Dean actually manages to do it, that's a good sign for the two of you."
"Hey, we should be ready to go in like a half hour," Dean says, coming out of the kitchen. He has a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and an apron on. "Joe shanghaied Sam into helping him with the potatoes."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Dean," Cas says, working past the lump in his throat. The sight of Dean so comfortable and content is doing very strange things to his emotions.
"You too, Cas," Dean mumbles. He might be blushing. Or he might be flushed from the heat of the kitchen.
Ellen is watching them with raised eyebrows. "I don't know how the hell you two kept this a secret for so long," she says.
Dean's eyes widen in alarm. "What?" He looks from Cas's guilty expression, to Ellen's amusement and Ash's maniacal delight. "Oh shit. You told them?" he asks Cas.
"Please, Dean, we already knew," Ash says. "When did you two actually start dating? Joe and I have a pool going."
Dean stares at his friends in utter horror. "Everything is worse than I expected," he groans in despair.
Sam comes out of the kitchen. "Hey, Joe needs you for something that he was too impatient to explain to me." Dean hurries past him into the kitchen, and Sam settles next to Cas at the bar. "So, how's the dog show going? Who won the Toy Group?"
Ellen stares blankly at him before turning the TV up to cover up the sound of Ash giggling.
"I don't think it's been decided yet," Cas says.
Sam frowns at Ash in confusion, which simply makes the giggles worse. He turns to Cas. "They're not usually this weird."
"Family has to be embarrassing around new people. Remember when Gabriel was in town?"
"Oh no, am I late?"
The four of them turn to see Garth standing in the doorway. "Garth!" Sam shouts, jumping up to pull him inside. "Nah, we're just hanging out. Is—is that a box of wine?"
Garth looks profoundly ashamed. "I didn't know what else to bring," he mumbles.
"Booze is always a good choice," Ellen says, coming around from the bar to relieve him of his load. "Grab a stool. We're killing time by making fun of dogs with show haircuts."
"I'm actually going to drown you in your boxed wine," Ash says cheerfully. "You disgust me."
"Ash."
"Who brings box wine to a bar?"
"Ash, shut up. Garth, honey, it's the thought that counts."
"I spent two months brewing a beautiful brown ale and he brings in a box of wine and it's the thought that counts?"
"Yeah, he hasn't wasted nine hours of my life telling me about what makes his beer so special."
"I'm still drowning you in your shitty wine, Garth. Ellen can be appreciative at your funeral."
"Actually, many reputable wineries are now boxing their wines," Cas puts in. "The stigma of the box has been significantly reduced within the community. Boxes are easier to store and ship and can have spouts put in to facilitate serving."
Everyone stares at him, surprised by this sudden input.
"Right," Ash drawls. "How much did you spend on your box wine, Garth?"
"…Five dollars."
"I fucking hate you, man. Cheap ass wine is cheap ass wine, boxy stigma or not."
"Ash, shut up and go start moving the tables together," Ellen sighs. Ash complies, grumbling. Ellen pats Garth's hand. "I appreciate the gesture, Garth."
#
The dinner passes a lot like holiday dinners that Cas remembers from childhood. Fewer people, and less actual violence than a large Irish Catholic family with sketchy careers, but the affectionate ribbing and copious amounts of alcohol are enough to give him a warm sense of familiarity. He's quiet most of the time, occasionally butting in to surprise the group with random trivia relevant to whatever Dean and Ash are arguing about, but soaks in the atmosphere contentedly. He's surprised by how much he missed this kind of banter. He's almost excited about the prospect of Christmas next month, and, as he watches Dean laugh with his pieced together family, he wonders if there's more than one reason for that excitement.
The food is excellent. Everyone compliments Joe and Dean repeatedly, and they amuse themselves by trying to out-compliment each other. Cas remembers to compliment Ash about her beer again, which prompts the entire table to applaud her efforts and inspires her magnanimous announcement that she will not actually drown Garth in his box wine. Garth giggles into his sixth glass of said wine and invites her to give everyone an in depth explanation about her brewing process.
Cas rises as Ellen groans and threatens to drown Garth in his wine herself. "I'm going to warm up the pies," he announces, to no one in particular. Joe and Ash cheer. Cas touches Dean's shoulder surreptitiously as he passes him on the way to the kitchen.
Dean enters as Cas is sliding the pies into the oven. "Hey."
Cas straightens and smiles shyly at him. "Hi."
Dean stands awkwardly near the counter. "Ash suggested I come show you how the oven works."
"I figured it out."
"Well, then Joe started to insist that he knows the ovens better than me so therefore he should be the one to explain them to you. I thought she was going to kill him. From the look on his face, she gave him a pretty healthy kick to the shins."
Cas laughs. "Thank you for letting me come today, Dean."
"Yeah, of course. I'm… I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it before."
Cas crosses the kitchen and wraps Dean in a hug. Dean returns it gratefully. "By before, you mean this morning, right?"
Dean groans and pokes him in the ribs, but doesn't let him go. "Shut up, it's stressful."
"Really?" Cas says, pulling away slightly so he can look at Dean. "I've had a wonderful evening. I didn't realize you were still anxious."
"Yeah, well it's a big step. Also I don't relish the idea of being banished from my apartment for a week while Sam throws a fit."
Cas grins mischievously. "Well that wouldn't be all bad."
Dean returns the grin and strokes his hands down Cas's sides to his hips. "How long are the pies in for?"
"Ten minutes," Cas mutters, concentrating on keeping his voice level.
"Oh, that's plenty of time," Dean says, pulling Cas towards the door.
They sneak through the service corridor to the bathroom. Cas knows he should feel guilty about fooling around with Dean while Sam still doesn't know the nature of their relationship, but Dean is pulling him into a stall and has a perfectly rakish look in his eyes as he pins Cas against the wall and kisses him. Cas cradles Dean's face in his hands, reveling in the taste of him, but Dean is already unbuttoning his pants and wrapping his hand around Cas's cock. Cas bites back a moan.
"Oh, you're in trouble," Dean whispers. "I haven't even started, yet."
"Fuck, Dean, don't tease me."
"Don't worry, you'll like it."
Cas tries to pull him back to kiss him and relieve some frustration, but Dean pulls away and slides down Cas's body, pulling his boxers and pants down to his knees. Dean takes the head of Cas's cock into his mouth and sucks lightly. He pulls back and blows on it. Cas lets out a shaky breath.
"Dean," he says and Dean looks up at him through his long lashes. Cas takes a deep breath. He wants to tell Dean he loves him, but he can't. Not yet. Instead he moans as Deans works his way down his shaft slowly. Dean's hands come up to rest on Cas's thighs, pushing him against the wall so he has complete control.
Dean loves the taste of Cas, relishes it as the tip of Cas's cock hits the back of his throat. Cas's hand pushes into Dean's hair, grabbing at it and fucking Dean's mouth onto his cock, making Dean gag. But Dean doesn't care. He doesn't mind at all. In fact, he's so turned on by it that he removes a hand from Cas's thigh and reaches down to his own pants. He struggles to concentrate on Cas's cock as he unzips his jeans and fishes out his rock hard dick.
"Fuck," Cas growls, pulling Dean's head away from his cock. Dean moans, sending the vibrations straight to Cas's stomach. "God, yes. Touch yourself."
If Sam decides to go to the bathroom now at least Dean won't have to see Sam's face when he figures out what's going on. There's a part of him that wants Cas to quiet down, but he's so goddamn turned on. Fucking Cas and his fucking pie and his fucking cock, which is fucking Dean's mouth almost leisurely.
Dean needs to put a stop to that. They both need to get off now. There's not time for loving how Cas tastes and sounds and smells and all those other senses that Dean can't remember because Cas is invading every part of him.
Dean removes his other hand from Cas's thigh to wrap around the base of Cas's dick, stroking in time with his hand on his own dick. Both of Cas's hands are in his hair now. They're controlling less and instead just grasping Dean's hair because Cas needs something to hold on to. Dean works his tongue and Cas swears.
"Dean," Cas gasps. "So close. I wanna see you. Wanna see you come."
Dean's orgasm hits hard, painting the floor and wall between Cas's legs with come. Cas's orgasm follows, giving Dean only enough time to catch his breath before he comes down his throat.
#
Garth is, quite possibly, the drunkest he has ever been. In fact, he may be more drunk at this very moment than every previous drunken experience in his life combined. But no one else will drink his box wine, and he doesn't want it to go to waste, so he's probably closing in on a liter of wine for the entire night.
"If you puke on my floors I'll drown you in that instead of whatever's left of your shitty wine," Ellen calls after him. She laughs with the rest of the group. He waves his hand dismissively at them.
The hallway tilts back and forth as he stumbles towards the bathroom. "Stop that," he mutters. "The bathroom is far enough away already."
Finally, after what seems like an eternity (roughly four seconds), he reaches the door to the men's bathroom. He reflects that it is a very friendly door, and leans against it for a minute to regain his balance. After thanking the door, he pushes it open and is finally in the lovely, clean bathroom, with cool tiles beneath his hand.
As he struggles to work out how to transfer himself from leaning against the wall to the stall nine million miles (or two feet) away, the door to the handicap stall opens. Cas pauses midway through zipping his fly, catching sight of Garth. Garth attempts to nod familiarly in greeting, thinking to himself that there is no need to be embarrassed about peeing, but some people are bladder shy and maybe… well maybe Dean was in the stall with Cas to cheer him on or some type of exposure therapy. Or… wait, no, that doesn't sound right at all. Slowly, his sodden mind puts the two pieces together.
NOT PEEING.
NOT.
NO.
TOILET NOW.
The awkward terror of catching his professor immediately post-blow and the alcohol-to-food ratio in his stomach converge, and he bolts into the nearest stall.
Dean sighs, listening to his TA retch into the toilet. "You go finish with the pies. I'll make sure he survives."
Cas kisses him lazily. "Good luck."
"Save at least half a pie for me."
"I may have an extra at home."
Dean pulls him back and kisses him deeply, vomiting TA or no. "You are so fucking ridiculous and I'm obscenely lucky you like me."
"Well I doubled the recipe to make four and only brought three, so—"
"Stop, you're ruining it. Go save those glorious pies. I'll be in soon."
Dean guides Garth back to the table in the middle of desert. Everyone is halfway through their first slice, exclaiming how fantastic the pie is between bites. Joe makes the rounds, pouring coffee for everyone. Cas sits back, sipping his cup contentedly, pleased with his efforts and their reception.
Ash hands Garth a large glass of water, while Dean helps himself to a large slice of pie and attacks it with gusto. After the first bite he closes his eyes and positively moans at the table. Cas grips his coffee tightly, very close to dragging Dean out of the bar and fucking him until he has to leave for Christmas in Boston. "Awesome pie, Cas," he says. "Best thing I've ever tasted."
If they were alone, Cas would make some suggestions as to rivals for that title, but Dean's enthusiastic response to the pie is already drawing enough attention.
"Speaking of awesome things," Ash begins, "let's talk about the awesome things we're thankful for."
"Wow, cliché much?" Joe says. "Did you make my mom a hand tracing turkey too?"
"Just for that, you can go first, asshole."
"I'm thankful for friends and family that call me names on holidays. It brings warmth to my heart."
"Don't complain; you brought it on yourself. Sam, you're next."
Sam straightens. "I'm thankful for an excellent start to the school year, and the support of all of you fine people." He toasts them dramatically with his coffee.
"See," Ash says pointedly to Joe, "you can be funny and poignant, you knucklehead." He waves her off, laughing.
Garth is thankful for water, at the moment. Ash is thankful for some piece of equipment none of them know the purpose of but was totally instrumental in streamlining her brewing process because technobabble. Cas thanks them profusely for letting him into their family. Ellen is thankful that yet another fantastic meal has gone off without a hitch thanks to her son and Dean, and that she didn't have to do diddly for it.
Dean is last, and he knows what he has to say now. Cas gives him a smile from across the table, hopeful and supportive. "Uh…I….Well, I'm thankful for..."
Everyone but Sam knows what's coming, now. It doesn't help, the expectant looks from everyone at the table. Sam laughs, blithely unaware of the rest of the group's tension, "Well, spit it out, Dean, so we can get back to our pie."
"Shit," Dean mutters. "I'm… I'm thankful that I have a family that… supports me, no matter what. Even when they don't really agree with what I'm doing."
"What family are you talking about?" Joe asks. "Because it's not this one." He winces immediately afterwards, and reaches down to rub his shin again.
"So, uh. I'm thankful that, y'know, since it's the holidays, that my… boyfriend has encouraged me to come clean."
Silence reigns around the table. Even Sam knows that something's up now. "Your boyfriend?" he repeats. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"That's because it's Cas," Dean says. "Cas and I are dating."
The room holds its breath, watching Sam.
Garth bursts out, "Thank God that's out now. I keep walking in on them." He doesn't react to Ash jabbing her elbow into his ribs. "In their office, behind the humanities building, in the bathroom like five minutes ago."
"Garth shut up," Sam snaps. Belatedly realizing that he's actually speaking out loud, Garth subsides. The silence that falls now is heavy and ominous. Sam leans forward, lacing his fingers together tightly and examining them carefully to remain calm. "You're dating."
"Yes."
"After everything I said."
"Yeah."
"After every other time you've done this."
"Sam, it's not like that this time."
"Bullshit!" Sam bellows, slamming his fist on the table. Garth whimpers and shrinks against Ash. "You say that every time. I came here on the condition that you wouldn't do this to me again!"
"Sammy, I swear, it's different," Dean says desperately.
"Sam," Cas says, "your brother isn't wholly to blame. I was aware of this rule as well, and I also broke it."
"No, you didn't swear to me," Sam says, his eyes still on his brother. "You didn't swear to control yourself this time. You didn't swear that you had changed. You didn't swear on your life to stay out of my professors' pants."
Dean flinches. "Sam…"
"Save it, Dean. You know what? I'm thankful, too. I'm thankful I know how shitty of a brother you are, once and for all." Sam storms out, snatching his coat from the rack on the way.
Dean stares fixedly at his plate, battling tears. Cas watches him, feeling useless and guilty for forcing Dean to do this. In the back of his mind, he knows that it's for the best, and that it will all blow over. But right now, the look of heartbreak on Dean's face is making that hard to believe.
Joe reaches tentatively to touch Dean's shoulder. Dean bats his hand away and stands, storming after his brother. Cas starts to follow, but Ellen puts her hand on his arm. "Don't," she advises. "They need to shout at each other, and it'll only make it worse if you're there too."
"He needs me," Cas says.
"He'll need you after, too," she says. "Everyone finish your pie."
#
"Sam, wait."
"No, Dean. Go away."
"Sam, please, will you just listen to me?"
Sam whirls around, and it almost relieves Dean that he has tears in his eyes too. "Why?" he shouts. "I listened when you lied to me about not going near my professors, and look where that got me!"
"I didn't mean to lie, Sam, but Cas….." His heart is pounding—fighting with his brother and confronting exactly what he feels for Cas is far too much right now. He brushes exact terminology aside. "Cas is different. Cas is wonderful and I don't really get why he's interested in me but I'm fucking ecstatic that he is. I'm trying to do it right this time. We're not just screwing around."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I knew this is how you would react."
"That's not an excuse!"
"Jesus, Sam! I wanted to actually enjoy this with him," Dean snaps. "I wanted to feel whatever I wanted to about him without having to deal with you on my back all the time. We needed to get to know each other, and once we did it actually kind of works."
Sam laughs hollowly, looking anywhere but Dean's face. "Right, well I'm sorry to interfere on your couple time with my totally valid academic concerns."
"Sam, come on, that's not what I mean. He's already talked about going to the department chair to discuss what he needs to do to keep this from affecting you."
"No, this isn't about Cas, Dean. This is about you, and the fact that you put your need for sexual gratification before my needs."
Dean steps back, his head reeling almost as badly as if Sam had just punched him. "That's not all this is. This is actually really good for me. And I am trying my damnedest to keep it from affecting you or your degree. But my need, right now? My need is for you to be happy for me. Please."
Sam rubs his hands over his face and runs them back through his hair. "Don't ask me for that, right now."
Dean looks down at his feet. "Okay. I can stay with Cas for a few days if that's what—"
"Do whatever you want, Dean. Clearly that's what you're going to do anyway."
Sam turns and walks away from him, leaving Dean shivering in the cold. He waits for a few minutes until the worst of the tears have passed, and heads back into the Roadhouse. Everyone turns to him in the midst of clearing the table.
"Jesus," Cas breathes, crossing the room in long strides and wrapping his arms around Dean. "Dean, I'm sorry."
Dean buries his face in Cas's neck, struggling to hold back tears.
"It'll get better, Dean. He loves you; he'll come around."
Dean's hands tighten in Cas's shirt. The comforting somehow makes it worse. "Stop, Cas," he begs.
"Come on. You're coming home with me." Keeping a tight hold on Dean's hand, he steps away to retrieve their coats. He even gives Dean a small smile. "Remember, there's pie at my place."
Dean nearly drowns in the wave of gratitude—that Cas understands, that he didn't even have to ask if he could stay. He squeezes Cas's hand and manages a shaky smile of his own to the rest of his friends. "Sorry, guys. Happy Thanksgiving."
A weak chorus of "Happy Thanksgiving" follows them out into the cold.