It was chilly. Dean reckoned he was lucky if it was hitting forty degrees. It had gotten cold in the Ozarks. His, occasionally biting, walks to work didn't bother him, and in the last few mornings there had been pre-dawn light breaking in the eastern sky. If he was running late or it was Saturday, he took the Impala, but normally he left Baby for Sam to get to class on time. Dean pushed back his jacket sleeve as he approached the open roll shutter at the rear of Greengoods. His watch read 5.52am. A grin spread across his face. Two minutes faster. Dean clocked the time he stepped off the porch each morning. If he stopped to buy a bottle of water at the all night store, or to make a super quick sketch in his tiny notepad, then he didn't measure that day's walk, but he was definitely getting faster. Next week would be his fourth week of work, and he considered adjusting his scheduled morning leaving time to five minutes later.
Inside the warehouse, Tony and Joe had the pallets and roll cages lined up for the morning crew. There would be another couple of deliveries but most of the fresh produce had arrived. The night team would have the items that had not fit on the shelves in previous day ready to roll at the top of the line. Dean waved in greeting and received cheery salutations in response. He dipped his clockcard and dumped his coat and sackpack into his locker. In the canteen Risa and Jeffery sipped steaming coffees. Dean took a cup of water, having made his morning coffee to almost Turkish strength back at home.
"Annie wants me on a checkout tomorrow." Risa's growl was kind of scary.
"She doesn't?" Jeffery's mug paused on the way to his mouth.
"Kate's got her end of quarter exams next week and Mr. Adler gave her study leave and then promised Annie I'd cover Kate's Saturday morning shift." Risa hissed out the words.
Dean inclined his head in sympathy. Risa didn't particularly look like it but she could heft sacks of potatoes, squashes and yams with the best of the guys. He'd seen Risa flinging bar-coded items over the scanners and plunking weighted items on the cashier scales, when she had to cover a break. He kind of pitied Monica and Shirley if they had a storm cloud working next to them all day tomorrow. It was decent of Mr. Adler to grant Kate the weekend off. The pretty blonde freshman only did Saturday and Sunday. She was bright and friendly, always said 'Hi' to Dean, and had invited him to a party last weekend, which might have been a date if Dean had accepted. There was a round of good humored teasing of how Kate fancied the strong silent type. Monica and Nora were more reserved and cliquey, keeping to themselves. Shirley who was in her fifties was like a momma-bear and brought in baked muffins for the crew every Friday. Annie was another kettle of fish. She had a scary-sexy vibe similar to Risa and was extremely competent at her job. Annie and Mitchell were the supervisors Dean worked with but he had met the third senior employee, Irv, who started his shifts at a later hour.
"I mean she only works from opening to lunchtime," Risa was still grousing about Kate while she rinsed out her mug. "They should train you as a cashier, Dean. It would serve the moaning customers right if they couldn't get a sympathetic response."
Dean held up his hands and backed away a step at the idea causing Jeffery to break out his donkey bray of a laugh. He truly hoped the suggestion was a bad tasting joke, because he had enough frustration dealing with early morning customers who asked him for produce. Most were happy when he showed them where the items were, or held up his pointer finger for them to wait while he checked the storeroom. A few now knew he rarely spoke and were smiley and grateful for his silent help. New customers and some of the regulars still checked his ear cavities for hearing aids, shouted their requests, or gave him the same pitying looks that Carsten was subjected to.
As Dean pulled out a crate of yesterday's artisan cheese delivery, he thought about how exam fever seemed to have infected every student he knew, turning them into red-eyed insomniacs, popping caffeine pills, and retreating on pilgrimages to the library and their bedrooms. Even Castiel was on edge with his bedroom desk and the dining table covered in books and papers. Balthazar had these cushioned lap trays for eating in front of the TV. He had explained to Dean that the trays were a quarterly exam time essential.
Sam had taken it to another level. Dean was thinking about grinding down a few Xanax and spiking Sam's food with them. His baby brother's determination to meet his scholarship grade was fanatical. Dean got it. If Sam's grade's dropped for this quarter he would have to get something impossible like top of the class or straight A-plusses in the spring semester, or else lose his full ride, and there was no family trust fund in the Winchester back pocket.
By the time Dean was replacing empty tomato display cases with full ones, all the morning crew had arrived for work. Mr. Adler was freaking straightening up the bananas so that they leaned together in a more orderly fashion. He was glad that Wayne had been on that unit, because being smarmily shown how to place a banana on a shelf by Zachariah might have caused Dean to bite through his tongue in an effort to stay chilled. On his way to the back areas the store manager stopped to admire Dean's full shiny tomato display. He reached into the top crate of the empty stack and pulled out the beefsteak tomato with the split skin which Dean had taken off sale. Dean licked his lips. He never knew if Zachariah was going to criticize, say nothing but delegate his comments to Mitchell, or offered cringing praise. It was un-nerving and one of the things about his job that set Dean's teeth on edge.
This time Zachariah was pleased. He gave a grimacing smile, patted Dean on the arm and before walking off said, "Good Boy."
Dean steamed inside. He detested the way the old balding dick would pat him and praise him like he was some prize sheepdog herding up his wayward vegetables. He wanted to complain about it to Garth, but it wasn't exactly discrimination, just condescending and demeaning praise. He deliberately skipped over the roll cage of delicate berries so he could slam crates of onions onto their display.
"Hey Dean!" Risa called, "They were my temper venting onions!"
Dean snorted with laughter. He eyed the main door to make sure they were still closed, then gifted his colleague with the sight of his raised middle finger.
He was sweaty and achy by 10am. He betted he had built more muscle mass in the past few hours than Sam would on Stanford's gym equipment in a week. He popped into Beans on the way home and pointed at a tall latte. Tamara was behind the counter with a very beautiful black haired woman in a stylish pant suit.
"To go Dean?" Tamara asked with a smile, but there a slight tension to her grin.
Dean nodded and cocked his eye towards the executive looking woman with the heavy gold bracelet and necklace set who seemed so out of place.
"Dean meet Light Up Your Beans' owner Andrea," Tamara introduced, "Ms Kormos, this is Dean – one of our regulars and my eye-candy fix."
Dean eye rolled at Cas's colleague.
"Pleased to meet you Dean." Andrea's smile did not seem forced and Dean warmed to her a touch, "I don't get to visit my Palo Alto branch as much as I would like. My ex-husband and I opened our first Light Up Your Beans in Eagle Harbor and the Washington shops keep me busy."
Dean nodded politely. He hadn't known Beans was a pacific coast chain. There was a slight emphasis on Andrea's divorced status. Tamara picked up on it too.
"Dean is Castiel's partner." Tamara announced as she poured the frothed milk into the tall cup.
"Well in that case, you must take the latte with my compliments." Andrea insisted. "Castiel is one of my most loyal employees. I will be very sad to lose him when he seeks a teaching position in the Fall."
"Thank you," Dean's voice was hoarse. He needed the coffee to wet his throat. He hadn't been in the right headspace for making workplace comments.
After his shower Dean stretched out on his futon with Black Sabbath on his Discman. He dutifully wrote his journal. The topic of choice was how he'd like to install Zachariah on a bench and smash his head in with a relay of coconuts. He added a postscript of reasonable sentences about wishing he could call the boss out on his patronizing behavior. He thought he could conjure up a scream of "Fuck you," but he imagined his pink slip would soon follow that course of action.
Sam stomped up the stairs and flung his body into the room.
"Fucker. Prof Gilmore is a fucking fucker." Sam seethed.
Dean pulled out an ear bud. "Huh Sam?"
"A dickbag. A sneaky fucker." Sam threw his book bag on his bed. "Gender Psych class, right Dean?"
Dean nodded urgently.
"Last week, he hints the exam paper will have psycho-social development, androgyny and sex crimes. We've all been scrounging through journals and sharing the copies of books on the reading list," Sam kicked the leg of his bed, "Then he comes in today and says oops sorry class I'd read Eysenck, stereotyping and gender equality, but hey he adds, you'll all have a well rounded knowledge of this class won't you?"
"Can he do that?" Dean gasped.
"Now we don't know whether to believe him and we're gonna havta cram every fucking class since Christmas." Sam flopped his ass onto his mattress. "I don't need this. I just don't. My freaking World History exam is 7 to 10pm the night before this one and I won't have time to re-read the whole frigging textbook before I go in."
"Everyone else will be in the same boat," Dean tried.
"Everyone else doesn't need a freaking A." Sam's chest heaved. He pulled his next class notebook from the pile on the floor. "It's our last class with Dr Rutherford. His TA is doing the revision class next week. Last time to ask him a pertinent question, if I could only think of one."
Dean let Sam get absorbed in his notes. He puttered around, checking the moisture of Spider's soil and straightening his bedclothes.
"Dean?"
Dean turned round. Sam had the glaring bitchface on. He cleared his throat, "Can you be quiet please?"
Dean sucked in his lips to hold his patience. He understood his brother was stressed but he was being freaking quiet. He'd even turned off his music in case it drifted out of the ear buds. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Why haven't you asked Nick for study leave?"
"Why haven't I?" Sam gaped at him, "What the fuck?"
"Kate at work's got the next few days off." Dean muttered.
"Maybe because I was freaking lucky to have a job after our deadbeat Dad pulled me outta here back in December. Maybe because there is rent to pay and all the fucking textbooks for next quarter to buy. Maybe because I won't be able to work on the Monday of exam week because instead I'll be winging an on the spot essay about the merits of the Modernist Art Movement. Maybe I fucking need the job."
"Okay, okay Sammy," Dean made a placating gesture with his palm. There was no way Nick would fire Sam or replace him for asking for study leave, but he knew not to push it. "Ignore it. It was only an idea."
Sam gave a short nod but he was hyped up. Dean prudently decided that his little brother needed some alone time to get his mind in gear before his next class.
"I'm going over to Cas's place." Dean grabbed his denim jacket from the closet.
"Cool." Sam said in a calmer tone. "Hey Dean. I didn't mean to bite your head off."
"Forget about it." Dean called as he checked he had his new wallet and the key to the house across the street. He hoped Sam knew that he meant it. He didn't want his little brother adding a concern that things weren't good between them to his list of troubles.
Cas's house was empty. Dean had entered when no one was home on one previous occasion so he could welcome Cas home with a boxed pie he'd picked up at the bakery on Emerson. `
He knew Cas and Balthazar had eaten most of a tuna casserole the night before, because Cas had texted him a photo. Dean turned on the oven to warm up the leftovers. The dining room table was still coated with Cas's arcane study system. He laid cutlery and kitchen paper on two lap trays and poured long glasses of soda. Then he went to the family room and flipped through the vinyl, cassette and CD collections for something he recognized. He knew plenty of Balthazar's musical choices but he'd eat his own earlobes before sticking on Lionel Ritchie or Luther Vandross. Cas had a CD copy of music to Romeo and Juliet. Somehow Dean didn't think it was Baz Lurhmann's version. He got curious as he held the album, enough to insert the disc. Dean nodded along to some of it as it played in the background. When Castiel's bike turned into the car port, Dean was playing conductor to a track he checked was called Dance of The Knights. Caught rotten enjoying Prokofiev, Castiel wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist and kissed his cheek.
"Hello Dean," Castiel smirked as he loosened his blue tie, "To what do I owe the very great pleasure for discovering your talent for interpretive ballet."
Dean's jaw dropped, "Ballet?"
"Romeo and Juliet." Castiel tilted his head towards the stereo.
"Shit, Cas. Who knew? I thought it was a play." Dean huffed. He'd read the cliff notes in the ACIC library. The oven timer pinged. "Hey, lunch. I warmed up your leftovers."
Castiel followed Dean down to the small kitchen. When he saw the prepared trays he planted another kiss on Dean's lips.
They shared lunch on the sofa. The tuna casserole was good with a rich creamy sauce. Dean listened while Cas talked about his day.
"How is that kid? Y'know Jesse?" Dean asked with his mouth full. Luckily Cas was able to decipher his meaning.
"I suspect you were correct, Dean." Castiel put down his fork, "I alerted my colleagues, but it seems his shyness is greater in my presence, and I saw my name written in the margin of his biology textbook."
Dean tittered, "It's sweet."
"Yes. Sweet, but unnerving to think one of my class sees me in a sexual way."
"Betya there's more than one." Dean teased.
"Dean!" Castiel huffed, "Stop it."
"Mr. Sexy Teacher." Dean leaned over and tickled Castiel's rib, "I'd be drawing you all over my books."
"I'd be sending you to detention for drawing in science class." Castiel dodged Dean's tickling fingers with a grin and took their trays to the kitchen.
"Bet you looked cute in high school," Dean continued when Cas returned with coffees.
"Not particularly." Castiel said drily, "My mother knitted my school sweaters."
Dean was already snorting a laugh when Castiel added that his mother made his sleeves too long.
"All my clothes were from goodwill," Dean said in mutual sympathy, "and then Sam wore'em." Before Cas's maudlin expression could deepen, he added, "never let it stop me from catching a hot chick or dude's eye."
It worked as Cas got misty eyed, "My first kiss was a girl."
"Wowser, Cas. I thought you were strictly on team dick."
"My neighbor Rachel down by the creek on a hot May day when we peeled off our school sweaters and in over heated brain fugues ended up wrapped together under the old tire tree swing." Castiel smiled, "My parents found out, because I naively told them. I was sent to bible camp. I guess that should have been a hint for five years later when I came out to them."
"Why did you?" Dean whispered. He would never have 'come out' to his Dad and fully understood why Sam hadn't.
"I was at Cornell. It was this time of year. Your brother's stage of college and his age. 19 and spring break sophomore year." Cas leaned forward on the seat and clasped his hands together between his thighs.
"You don't have to tell me," Dean reached in and tugged on Castiel's shirt cuff so that the student released his hand into Dean's.
"I want to." Castiel gave a watery smile. "At Cornell, out and proud there. Dating Ephraim. They had been so supportive of my decision to study physics. You have no idea how wonderful their acceptance of my choice was. Mom and Pop, they believe in the Good Book, like in every word of it, but there was no issue with using my college fund and paying my dorm fees. I thought that, I don't know, that they were changing with the times, or at least accepting modernity. I took Eph back home with me for Spring Break and discovered lickity split that I had presumed too much. Ephraim was escorted off the farm by my mother holding a shotgun, while my father tried to beat the evil gay out of me with his walking stick."
"Hell, Cas," Dean slung his arm around Cas's hunched shoulder. It occurred to him that he was in the role of comforter rather than comfort-ee. It felt right to be able to offer Cas his support.
Castiel gave a bitter laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "They cut me off, didn't pay my fees. I had nowhere to live. A few of my friends let me crash on their sofas and floors. Ephraim was cool but we were no Romeo and Juliet. Balthazar called me. I hadn't spoken to him since a distant cousin's funeral two years earlier, but his mother had told him what my mother told her. He offered me a room. I went to the Dean of Students Office and threw myself on their mercy. They were fantastic. They helped me transfer to Stanford as a half-time undergraduate and aided my loan applications. All my complete units came with me."
"You are amazin'" Dean breathed.
"What Dean?" Castiel blinked.
"You didn't give up. Didn't let them beat you." Dean pecked the corner of Castiel's shock slackened lips.
"You know that spring I thought I'd lost everything." Castiel squeezed Dean's hand, "And it was no picnic, working full time and going to school. But I got my bachelors. I picked up work as a private tutor for struggling high school physics students until the start of my teaching degree. But you know what? If all that hadn't happened, I would never have learned that my parents didn't love me unconditionally, would never have found my vocation as a teacher, and never have met you."
"Hey Cas, schmoop warning," Dean winked.
Castiel chuckled, "No time for schmoop I'm afraid I have a seminar."
Dean rose.
"Stay if you wish, Dean." Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder, "I will only be a couple of hours, and maybe we could watch a movie. My brain needs a study break."
Dean grumbled to himself that Sam should be as sensible. While Cas changed out of his suit, Dean put on some daytime TV and curled into the corner of the sofa.
He knew he must have slept because he could hear Judge Judy dismissing a counter claim. His mouth was dry. He had an uneasy crawling sensation under his skin, like as if he was being watched. It was a lingering dread. He'd had the seclusion room nightmare. His left arm was pinned by his body in the corner of the sofa cushions. Pins and needles ran down as he shook it out. Gritting his teeth he forced his mind away from the memory of being stood on his numb feet after God only knew how long strapped to the table. He smacked his lips together a few times and took a couple of deep breaths.
Dean noticed a long glass of juice covered with a Kleenex on the coffee table. He must have drifted into his nap before Cas left. It was freaking touching, especially when Dean spotted the small post it saying 'Drink Me'. Laughing at the Alice In Wonderland reference, he gladly gulped down a few mouthfuls. There was a missed text from Sam with a simple 'sorry' for his early freak out.
Dean figured life wasn't too bad. He wasn't looking forward to the lead up to spring break. He was not all that enthusiastic about heading into work in the morning. Risa was going to be like thunder and Saturday was busy with early morning shoppers, getting their fresh groceries before commencing their weekend plans. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the tendons with his thumb. There were a lot of things he liked about working in Greengoods but the negative side wore him down at times. Back in Arkansas, when he gave himself permission to fantasize a life outside ACIC, he was always tinkering with car engines or running a repair business, maybe living above the premises with a hot chick or guy. He never imagined he would be working with fresh produce. Victor, Garth, and Sam all were quick to point out that the Ticket To Work program was a stepping stone to full employment. The place wasn't so bad. He got paid for honest physical work that was giving him muscle definition he hadn't seen since his high school track team days. The guys were cool. He enjoyed helping Tony with late deliveries. The heavy jacket and man-gloves for the cold warehouse gave him a bulky laborer vibe that Kate and Nancy, the shy office clerk, seemed to drool over. He enjoyed the routine and peace of his early morning walk on quiet streets and his pit stop at Beans on the way home.
The crap low-lights heavily featured Zachariah's micromanagement and 'Good Boy petting. Vying for top of the chart was his name pin and how at least once a day he had to point to where it informed the reader he was mute, because some blind old bat accused him of being rude when he didn't read the Eat By date on her yogurt, or a harassed soccer mom shouted if he had heard her question about the origin of her pineapple. Thing was, if they would just leave him be or act chilled, rather than raising voices or muttering about the employment of deaf and dumb boys, then Dean might have found his voice. As the days had gone by Dean had found it easier to exchange greetings or make seldom comments which always garnered a reaction from his colleagues because of their rarity. Speaking could be a minefield on the store floor When he did, the customer might expect a full blown conversation. Although Old Mrs Lincoln, who purchased chilled fresh spray cans of cream for her Maine Coon cats, had coaxed whispered recommendations from Dean about the best value offers and the dear lady in her wool coat seemed to treat his efforts as their own special secret. She had Dean guide her around the isles carrying her basket. Last week she had tried to tip him $5. When he wouldn't accept, she sneakily gave Carsten $10 to split with Dean. He couldn't refuse when Carsten nearly bawled that he had promised the nice lady he would give it to Dean. Another day a lady had stuffed three dollar bills in his pocket when he had carried her heavy family sized groceries to her car. When Jed had called in sick, Mitchell had taken Dean with him for the delivery to the Poor Clare convent. After they had unpacked the motherload Sister Assumpta had given the hardworking men slices of warm crumble topped apple pie. It had been twenty after ten when they got back to the store but Dean would have worked an hour of overtime for the nuns' divine baking skills.
He figured on balance despite the looks, comments, exposure, and overbearing sympathy, he was getting used to Greengoods. The job was growing on him like a symbiotic fungus.
A text alert proved to be Cas checking if he was still at the house. Dean shot off a quick reply with a couple of capital Xs for good measure. He cleaned out the coffee filter and put on a new pot. Then he tidied up their lunch bits. Balthazar's house was not large. It was a Californian Bungalow with two beds, the bathroom, and family room taking up most of the square footage. A narrow passageway led to the small dining room and tiny galley kitchen. There was barely room for two guys to stand side by side in the narrow galley. If this was Dean's home he would knock the wall and have a kitchen cum diner. The front door banged and a delicious meaty aroma drifted in as Castiel appeared looking tired but bearing a swollen bag of burgers.
"I knew there was a reason I hung around," Dean muttered with a kiss to Castiel's exposed neck.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dean rose before seven. It was the Monday of Exam Week, and every one of his housemates had an 8.30am start. Dean was at work in the kitchen while the guys fought over the shower and Jessica squealed that she couldn't find her lucky fountain pen. While Sarah helped Jess find her exam talisman, Dean grated potatoes, chopped onions, halved tomatoes, and squeezed oranges. Dean had planned the breakfast, bringing home the ingredients from work on Saturday, including the overripe but extra juicy oranges on which he had got a mega discount.
Sam was the first student to appear. "I was gonna grab an apple," he gasped at the table with the full pitcher of OJ, and the plates of bacon, hash browns and fried tomatoes.
"You want eggs over easy?" Dean gestured at a chair with his spatula, "or cinnamon and vanilla French Toast with extra sugar for brain fuel?"
Sam was speechless. Brady trailed in. Sam finger jabbed at the piles of food and Dean in his cooking apron.
Soon the table was surrounded by exam takers fuelling up for the day ahead, except Andy who slouched against the wall holding his head and chewing slices of bacon wrapped in sliced bread.
Sarah raised her mug of coffee and announced, "I declare an exam amnesty. No mention of the E-word until we leave the house."
Dean grinned with his back turned, flipping Sammy's eggs.
Jessica swallowed her bite of French Toast and dapped her mouth with a napkin, "Hear, Hear. Sarah found my lucky pen, so everything she says goes."
The others laughed as Jessica brandished the writing instrument.
"Are you actually going to Mexico, Andy? Or was that wishful thinking?" Brady laughed.
Andy grunted a yes, then added, "Ansem's flying out of Denver and we are meeting there Saturday for seven nights of hedonistic bliss."
"We are all so boring, heading home," Jess sighed.
Sarah cleared her throat, "Scott's taking me back to Lake Tahoe for the weekend before I head East."
"Whoo-hooo," Brady whooped.
Sam winked at Sarah while Dean slid the eggs onto his brother's plate and sat down next to him to tuck into his own bacon. Sam grinned, "Some guys have all the luck."
"Don't you try and tell us, Sam Winchester, that devilishly handsome Nick has not got plans?" Jess wiggled her brows.
Dean thought Sam's cheeks flushed.
"Dunno," Sam shrugged, "I'm taking a couple of Brady's shifts while he is in The Windy City."
Brady snorted, "That leaves other nights for getting together."
"What's Castiel doing?" Jessica asked Dean earning her a grateful look from Sam.
"He's working more too. His cousin's taking a few days vacation, and Cas'll watch the store." Dean held a private hope that just like Sam he would be able to grab some extra time with his boyfriend.
As the students began to head out, Dean slipped upstairs. He had to take his Citalorapram and Penandrocol. He dragged the polka dot vanity case from under his bed and took out his meds. The Xanax tub rattled.
"Sonvabitch," Dean hissed. Victor had written new scripts last Thursday but with most of Friday spent napping on Cas's sofa and a forgetful head on Saturday, Dean hadn't got them filled. Sam came in as Dean was contemplating the two Xanax knocking around at the bottom of the white plastic container.
Sam checked his progress towards his book bag and jacket. "Dean?"
"Forgot my scripts." Dean huffed.
"Shit, man!" Sam ambled over and looked in on the two lonely pills "You got any of your other meds?"
Dean pulled the anti-anxiety blister out of its box and saw six remaining doses. Nodding in satisfaction he took his Penandrocol box in his hand. He grimaced and hoped he was wrong but he wasn't. He had taken his final 28th pill the previous morning.
"Its fine Dean. Don't sweat it, we can share." Sam extracted his own pack from his desk and threw it over to the dresser.
Blue Band Penandrocol had a 28 day cycle of pills - 1 dark blue, 2 pale blue, 10 white, another dark blue, 4 pale ones, and 10 white to finish. They had to be taken in order, which was inconvenient if one was forgotten, but they were the best male contraceptives on the market. Dean could see that Sam was on Day 6 of the pack.
"You take my day 14 dark blue and when you get your pack, leave your Day 1 in the blister for me. Easy peasy."
Dean barely had time to thank his brother, wish him luck, and promise to go to the pharmacy before Sam was flinging his bag over his shoulder and flying out the door to his first exam.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Heaven was rocking. Strobe lights spun across the dancers' heads. Floor lasers fanned in the scare gaps between their heaving bodies. Dean licked beads of perspiration from his upper lip. His hands ran around the damp material of Castiel's half open white dress shirt lifting upwards to feel the motion of Cas's shoulder blades. Cas raised his arms to clasp his hands behind Dean's neck and draw them impossibly closer so their breaths mingled before they kissed long and deep. As they turned, foreheads pressed together, Dean watched his partner's long dark eyelashes dip and hide his cereulean blue pupils. With a beat of the dance track, Cas's eyes opened again leaving a single lash defying gravity on the rosy heat flushed skin of his cheek. Dean held his breath as he reached up and stroked it away with a gentle tip of his finger. Castiel smiled at his touch and leaned forward whispering in Dean's ear that he would return in a moment.
Watching Castiel's finely formed ass swing to Pink's Get The Party Started, Dean ran his tongue hungrily over his lips. His eyes stung from the recycled air but he had to admit he was revelling in Cas's sudden urge to celebrate his last exam at a gay nightclub. Initially neither of them were racing to expose their limited dancing skills. After Castiel's fourth vodka and Dean's third beer, Dean couldn't be sure who had pulled who into the morass of guys moving to the thumping beat. Hands on each other's hips, Castiel's fingers pressing into Dean's body, they swayed and moved in unison rather than anything that could be said to resemble actual dance. He did recall Cas securing the future of his leather jacket and Dean's denim one by lodging them with the cloakroom attendant. Then he slipped his hands over the curves of Dean's glutes and slid the paper tickets into his ass pockets. Stripped to his V-neck black tee and unintentionally co-ordinated arm cuffs, Dean had received a wink from a baby faced crew cut blond with a sharktooth pendant dangling over a ripped wifebeater. Castiel's gasp of indignation turned out not to be jealousy but shock at the sight of one of his high school seniors. The equally taken aback boy's rapid vanishing act and Dean's restraining hand, combined with a plea to 'Leave it Cas' saved the fake ID holder from the interrogation of his teacher. Castiel looked stunning in his moral conflict making Dean want to wrap his body around him and grow octopus limbs to entangle them together.
Dean gyrated his hips in the sea of bodies, anonymous, buzzed, waiting for Cas to return. He tipped his head back half laughing at a few of the other post-exam revellers who were blowing douchey whistles to the music. He could feel the glide of the silky candy striped jock strap over his confined cock and balls. The secret surprise for his lover had him straining and leaking in anticipation.
The furnace of a body grinding into him from behind caused Dean to half-step forward into a fleeting gap. The body moved with him, hard on rubbing his hip. It was not Castiel. Dean froze, his adrenaline funnelled down the 'deer in highlights' chute rather than the 'punch and ask questions later' channel. His blood rushed with increasing velocity through his ears but the unwelcome pressure did not pass along to another dancer.
"Why Dean," a nasal crawling drawl and the heat of sickly nicotine breath on his neck, "What an unexpected pleasure to meet Sam's pretty brother here."
"Alastair", Dean sucked air around his constricting throat, suddenly sober and aware of every note of The Prodigy's Breathe as the taller man ground his hard shaft against Dean's crack. Dean kept moving but the sea of oblivious clubbers had morphed into a cage of flesh. With the edge of the dancefloor in range Dean pulled forward only to have Alastair's hands snake under his arms and hold his chest. If he could get off the floor he could break away, find room to twist expertly out of the amateur hold, and spot a mark on the dickbag's jutting chin. He kept edging onwards luring Alastair to the seated area readying his response, tensing his muscles to deal with the sonvabitch.
"Hey!" Castiel growled before them.
Dean took his chance and elbowed Alastair's ribs. He stepped to the side in time to see the blur of Castiel's closed fist flying upwards to smack into Alastair's chin and the douchebag's head snapping back, bloodied spittle spraying out.
Time stopped. Heads turned. Alastair stumbled back into the crowd. Castiel's righteous rage burned incandescent. Dean's jaw dropped in awe. Cas had smacked the creep down... for him.
Then all at once reality rushed in. There was a scream of "Fight!" Alastair staggered to recover. A security guy with an earpiece moved in from the left. Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder tight and stared into his eyes with deep concern.
"Are you alright? Dean, babe, are you OK?"
Dean nodded.
"Let's move," Cas urged and released Dean's shoulder to urge him forward through the crowd with a grasped hand. At the cloakroom Dean kept lookout for security or the creepy perv. His pulse jumped in his temple and his nerves in his knee hopped.
Outside on the sidewalk, Castiel bent double and took a couple of deep breaths. Dean took the opportunity to bring his own breathing back under control.
"You," Dean began as his rested his palm on the curve of Cas's spine, "...were magnificent."
Castiel straightened and looked sheepishly at Dean. "I... I saw him assaulting you on the floor and saw red."
Dean quirked his lips at the fire still kindled in Cas's belly. "You know I coulda taken him down?"
"Yes Dean. I know." Castiel looked marginally abashed, "I am not normally so much of a caveman."
"But thanks Cas," Dean linked their fingers together. "The assbutt had it coming."
"He did, didn't he?" Cas smirked and swung their arms as they wallked.
"He did," Dean agreed before pausing for a quick sweet touching of chapped lips, "Now take me home and ravish me, Barney Rubble."
"As you wish," Castiel replied softly.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++SPNSPNSPN++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
