Dean had always considered "fuck buddies" to be quite an apt term. It held no connotations of emotion, nor did it drum up any mental images that extended beyond unapologetic, inconsequential sex. It sounded like exactly what it was.
Which was precisely how he knew that it was not an appropriate term for his and Castiel's...'arrangement.'
This was was no run of the mill 'friends with benefits' situation.
This was addiction.
This, right here. This shameless need that awoke Dean at the same time every day and had him beating feet out in the freezing cold dawn for just one more touch, one more shiver, one more mindless fuck that would be swept under the rug as soon as the sun rose.
Eleven days, they had been doing this, seeing in each new dawn with a chorus of moans and profanities and heavy breathing that ricocheted around the trees and dissipated with the morning fog, forgotten as soon as the moment of climax had passed.
Dean knew that Castiel still had his doubts about what they were doing. If Dean were honest with himself, he did too. Something had shifted between them, something nameless and deeply concealed that would spark fleetingly in the moments before they would fall on each other in a needy tangle of limbs. Something in the way they held each other's gaze just a split second too long before throwing up their respective walls in the aftermath of orgasm and returning to the campsite to begin another day of blissful denial.
Sometimes, when caught in the haze between consciousness and dreaming, Dean would think of Castiel, of the way he would sometimes look over during a drill practise in a moment of silent acknowledgement, or the smile that would almost appear when he found Dean waiting outside his tent in the early morning mist. It was almost as though they had created their own reality that existed solely within those moments before the sun would rise.
And Dean had never felt so complete in his whole life.
There was no guilt, there was no pain, no anger or darkness or resentment eating away at him. And every day that he spent with Novak, he grew more and more convinced that the sex had nothing to do with it.
There were four days left before they were expected to return to base, and only one major assessment that was yet to be carried out. Castiel flicked through his log book by the light of the flickering gas lamp on the floor beside him, checking and double checking that there was nothing he had missed.
Every entry to date had been positive, and he could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Whether or not that had anything to do with the early morning routine he had been partaking in with Dean was not something he was willing to let himself dwell on.
It had become something of an emotional solace for him, those moments spent so far beyond words, everything playing out in touches and glances and sounds they no longer bothered to hold in. Dean's presence had come to represent so much more than just a mutual physical arrangement. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Castiel had let his guard down. And he could not for the life of him seem to put it back up. At least, not with Dean.
Which was probably the most blaring indicator of all that their situation was as he had initially believed it to be – a very dangerous, very bad idea. And yet, in the moments when he would allow himself to consider the implications of putting an end to it, he struggled to imagine how he could possibly return to the way things had been before...the way things should be, without losing a piece of himself.
Not that it would be losing it as such...more like leaving it with Dean.
"Sir?"
He looked up from his log book, setting it aside as a tall shape ducked into his tent.
"Michaels?" Castiel attempted to conceal his disappointment at the fact that it was not the recruit he had become accustomed to having in his tent. "I didn't hear you ask permission to come in."
The young man settled himself down onto the floor, a knowing smirk firmly in place as he met Castiel's gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I don't think permission is necessary. Not anymore."
Castiel eyed the young soldier warily, a vague sense of dread seeping in as he took in the smug smile and knowing stare.
"Excuse me?"
"Here's what's gonna happen, Novak," Michaels leaned back to rest his weight on his hands. "You're gonna put me in charge of the squad, and you're gonna tell the higher ups that it's because I am the most skilled recruit in the program."
Castiel stared disbelievingly at the picture of insolence sitting before him.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't..." Michaels grinned at him, "...I'll tell everyone you're fucking Dean Winchester."
Castiel froze, his heart missing a beat as the blood in his veins turned ice cold, his entire world collapsing in on him as the young recruit looked at him with a deep sense of self-satisfaction.
"What, ah...why do you..." Castiel licked at his lips nervously, fumbling for words.
Michaels quirked an eyebrow at him.
"I saw you. I've been seeing you. You really think no one noticed you two sneaking off every day?" He snorted. "It wasn't until I followed you this morning that I realised what was going on...I gotta say, that is some freak show you two got goin' on."
Castiel shook his head, his mind refusing to absorb the implications of the situation.
"I uh, I don't know what you think you saw..."
"I know exactly what I saw!" Michaels raised his voice, his expression clouding with low-simmering anger as he leaned forwards towards his superior. "I know what you've been doing. Or who, as is more the case. And don't think for a second that I won't hesitate to tell everyone who'll listen that you've been screwing your squad."
He relaxed back onto his hands once more, his face resuming its mask of gratified indifference. "I don't think they'll take too kindly to that back at base, do you? But hey, if you're willing to play the game, we can both get something out of this. I get to be captain, you get to keep your job. What do you say?"
Castiel tilted his chin up.
The kid had thought this through, he would give him that. He always did have a mind for tactics. But there was no way Castiel was going to play into it. At least, not outwardly.
He leaned in close, summoning all of his presence and command as he spoke in a level voice.
"I say get the fuck out of my tent."
He watched as Michaels' eyes narrowed in confusion.
"You're making a huge mistake." He hissed.
"That's not your concern." Castiel held his eyes steadily.
Michaels laughed humourlessly. "Don't be stupid, Novak. This could destroy you, and you know it. You're cornered."
Castiel stood, raising up to his full height to tower above the younger man as he spoke in a voice that was pure command.
"Get. Out."
The recruit hesitated a moment, gritting his teeth. He slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, and, shaking his head in disbelief, ducked out of the tent.
Castiel let out the breath he had not even realised he had been holding. He had no idea how he was going to deal with this. There was no diffusing it, he knew that for sure. And he believed with everything in him that Michaels meant it when he said he would not hesitate to broadcast it the second they arrived back at base. Michaels knew he held all the cards on this one.
Dean needed to know about this. There was no way they could go for their morning walk tomorrow, not now that they were being watched.
It would have to be tonight.
Castiel scrubbed at his hair, tugging at it as his mind churned over what had just happened.
He had no way of knowing what Michaels was capable of, or how far he would take this, and the thought that their actions may have put Dean in danger scared him more than anything else about this whole mess.
He tugged his boots on and pulled on his jacket, checking his watch.
It had to be now. Nothing productive would come of him sitting around waiting for an opportune moment...because there would never be one. There would never be a good time for this, no matter when he did it, the blow would never be softened.
They had been caught. His job was on the line, and there was every chance Dean was in physical danger.
He ducked out into the freezing night air, his eyes set dead ahead as he made his way across the campsite.
"...What?"
Dean stared in disbelief at Castiel, his mind refusing to process what the older man had just told him. His pulse rate was sky-high, his body not entirely connecting to what was going on as his brain churned over the implications of the news.
"You're telling me that of all the people who could have caught us out, we got sprung by Douchebag McFuckwit?"
Castiel shrugged, shaking his head.
"I don't know how this happened Dean, he said he saw us this morning..."
"What? So the creepy fucker followed us? And now he's threatening you? What the fuck!"
He could feel the blood boiling in his veins as he watched the play of emotions on Castiel's face...fear, concern, defeat – it all hit Dean like a punch in the gut.
No one got to make Cas feel like that.
Especially not someone as low and self-gratifying as Michaels.
Who did the fucker think he was, following them out into the woods? That was their time, he had no right to be there. And he certainly had no right to watch them.
"Dean...I don't want you to try and do anything about this." Castiel was looking at him like he was afraid he might bolt from the tent then and there, knife in hand. "I've dragged you far enough into this, I don't need you creating trouble for yourself as well now...I just thought you should know because I don't know how far Michaels is going to take this."
Dean laughed humourlessly, scrubbing at his mouth with his hand.
"Oh, I'm gonna do something about this alright, I'm gonna tear that son of a bitch up six ways to Sunday!"
"Dean..."
"No, Cas, no one gets to talk to you like that! Especially not him!"
Dean felt his stomach twist as Castiel sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. His voice was a muffled murmur as he spoke into his palms.
"I just...I can't worry about you too." He lifted his face to meet Dean's stare. "This is enough for me to stress over without wondering if you're getting yourself into a dangerous situation."
Dean clasped his hands behind his neck, trying to calm his breathing.
"God damn it..." He sighed, clawing roughly at his hair as he fought the urge to march straight over to Michaels tent and silence the bitch once and for all. "I don't like it, Cas...But if it's what you want...I'll leave it alone."
Castiel's shoulders dropped, a visible weight removed from them as he breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
Dean shook his head. "Don't thank me, Cas. I'm the reason we're in this mess in the first place."
He lay back onto the floor of his tent, throwing one arm up over his eyes. He heard Castiel shift somewhere over on his right, felt him as he moved closer.
"...This isn't your fault." Castiel murmured. "We knew this was dicey from the start. If it hadn't been Michaels, it would have been someone else."
Dean snorted. "You know, I don't think we would be having this conversation if it had been someone else."
Castiel sighed.
"...You're probably right."
A weighted silence hung between them.
"...I should go." Castiel stared at his feet, unmoving.
Dean nodded slowly, inwardly flinching as the older man dragged himself up onto his feet as though the weight of the world were trying to push him back down.
"...I won't see you in the morning, will I?" Dean whispered.
"...I'm sorry..." Castiel paused in the doorway of the tent, his eyes not meeting Dean's as he looked back over his shoulder. "We just...can't."
He ducked out of the tent, leaving Dean to stare after him.
Dean listened to the fading footfalls as Castiel headed away, back across the campsite. The tent seemed suddenly empty, despite his pack and supplies and his own body taking up space.
He instantly regretted his promise not to take matters into his own hands on this one, images of Castiel's ill-hidden fear flashing through his mind.
If Cas lost his job over this, Dean would never forgive himself.
He groaned as he considered the possibility. Because that was just what he needed, more things to feel guilty over. Just throw it on the pile.
He turned over onto his side, staring into the darkness at nothing particular as his insides twisted and ached in pained anxiety.
There were four days before they returned to base. Four days before Michaels blew the lid off their morning ritual and brought down the wrath of the entire United States Marine Corps on Castiel and himself. And as much as he fought and strained for some idea, some way to derail it all before it got that far, the harsh reality of it sat like a cold, dead weight on his chest, and he had to face the facts of it.
They were fucked.