A/N: Of course Dean thinks he could take Kato. Of course.
XXVI. The Tradition: Year 7
"But if you say that that was a good movie, I think I might have to break our tradition next year in protest," Castiel says as they exit the theater.
Dean laughs. "It wasn't that bad."
"But you agree that it was bad," Castiel says.
"Yeah," Dean answers. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. Seth Rogen is still funny, though."
Castiel considers it. "I don't think he's funny," he decides.
"That's 'cause you've got a terrible sense of humor," Dean says.
"To each his own," Castiel responds.
Dean huffs. "Sure. Bet you I could take Kato, if I wanted to."
"I highly doubt that. You'd be lucky if you could win a match against me," Castiel says.
"Dude, I could kick your skinny ass any day."
"I'd like to see you try."
"You say that as though we've never wrestled before," Dean says.
"Maybe I've been going easy on you to lull you into a false sense of security."
"Oh, really? We'll see about that."
Castiel allows himself a small smile. "Are you saying you want to fight me, Dean?"
"I'm saying I'm gonna prove you wrong," Dean answers.
"Hmm," Castiel says nonchalantly. "After dinner, maybe."
"No 'maybe.' After dinner, I'm taking you down," Dean says as they get into the car. "Unless you have work to do, that is."
It's more considerate than usual for Dean, and Castiel appreciates it—he's halfway through his third year as a graduate student, so he's busy putting ideas together for his dissertation. Dean spent most of break doing his best to distract Castiel from his work, so this shift in demeanor is welcome. "It's fine, Dean. I have plenty of free time tonight," he answers.
"It's Monday," Dean reminds him—needlessly.
"Yes, I know," Castiel says. Dean changes into the right lane, and Castiel frowns. "I thought I said we were going to be eating at my apartment tonight."
Dean glances at him. "What, you got something against the Roadhouse?"
"Of course not. But we agreed—"
"I'm hungry, Cas. I don't wanna wait for you to cook."
"Be patient, Dean. Please," he adds when Dean doesn't answer.
"Fine," Dean says, switching into the left lane with a put-upon sigh. "I guess I should let you have your way if I'm gonna beat your ass up later."
Castiel decides not to answer, just smiles to himself.
It takes about ten minutes for them to reach Castiel's apartment. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, takes his own shoes off and stands aside to let Dean in. As Dean removes his shoes, Castiel closes the door and flicks the light on.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Dean jolts and jumps backwards, slamming Castiel into the door, and the cacophony of shouts and cheering turns to laughter and clapping.
"Oh, fuck you!" Dean bellows over the noise. "Fuck all of you!"
Castiel shoves Dean away from him and massages his elbow, because that made hardest contact with the door. "Happy birthday, jackass," he says, and Dean heads farther into the apartment to the others.
"Here's the birthday boy," Castiel hears Jo say, and he turns in time to see Jo squeezing the life out of Dean. "How old are you this year?"
"I've lost count, but he can't be more than ten or eleven," Victor quips as Jo backs off, and he steps forward to give Dean a quick one-armed hug.
"Sam and Jess," Dean says, grinning. "Thought you two had work to be doing."
Jess rolls her eyes. "Well, we were lying. Obviously."
"All right, so where's dinner?" Dean asks.
"Jess made meatloaf," Jo says as Castiel stops at the edge of the living room.
Dean raises an eyebrow. "From scratch?"
"Yeah," Sam answers. "She wouldn't let any of us help, either."
"That's a lie. I let you mash the potatoes," Jess points out.
"It smells great," Dean comments. "Probably better than anything Cas would've made, at any rate."
"Hey, don't forget the lasagna Cas brought over for Christmas," Sam says.
"Thank you, Sam," Castiel says, watching as Jess passes by him to get to the kitchen. "I'll help you with the serving," he offers, but Jess shakes her head and gestures at him to stay put.
"So, how goes job hunting?" Dean asks Victor—he quit his job at a gun shop about a week ago.
"I think I'm gonna do it," Victor answers, and Dean's eyes widen.
"You're serious about it."
"I don't think it's such a bad idea, to be honest," Jo says. "I've been thinking about joining myself, but Mom gets angry whenever I even mention it."
Castiel remembers that Victor had mentioned something about entering the police academy and becoming a police officer some time back. It had sounded like a joke at the time, but Castiel hasn't seen Victor in quite a while, so it makes sense that he wouldn't be certain how serious Victor is about it.
"Well I mean, it's not totally uncalled for," Dean responds. "Your dad did die while he was on duty."
"Yeah, but he saved lives, and he really believed in what he did," Jo says. "And what about me? I'm stuck as a freakin' waitress at my mom's bar because she doesn't think I can handle myself."
"Join with me, then," Victor says. "It's not as though you're not a legal adult yet. You don't need permission from your mom."
"Or you could wait," Castiel suggests. "Your mother cares very much about you, and I'm sure you would be able to wear her down eventually. It'd be better to go into the academy with her blessing than against her wishes."
"That has nothing to do with anything," Jo says.
"You'll feel better if you don't have to be guilty for disappointing your mom," Sam reasons.
"Precisely," Castiel agrees.
Jo pouts. "What do you think, Dean?"
Dean shrugs. "In the end, it's your choice, but you know what I think already."
"Yeah, yeah. Family first, blah, blah."
"Sam!" Jess calls from the kitchen. Sam instantly heads toward the hall, and Castiel steps out of the way to let him past.
"C'mon, let's sit down," Dean says, walking around the couch and settling in. Jo and Victor sit on either side of him, and Castiel takes one of the two armchairs flanking the couch.
Sam returns with two large plates heaped with meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans.
"Oh wow," Victor says. "That looks amazing. I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"Why would you skip lunch? You don't even have a job anymore," Jo says, taking one of the plates. Sam hands the other to Dean and turns to go back into the kitchen.
"I was taking care of my mother, okay?" Victor says to Jo. Then he shouts, "Yo, Sam! Need some utensils in here, or I'm just gonna use my hands!"
Castiel starts to get to his feet, but Dean gestures at him to stay put. "Dude, let Sam do the legwork. You always cook when we're here."
"That's not true," Castiel says, but he sits back down anyway.
Then Sam's coming back out with another two plates, followed this time by Jess with one. As Sam passes one of his plates to Dean, Jess steps over to give hers to Castiel, and he hesitates.
"I'll be back with my own plate in a sec," she says, offering the food to him. "And utensils," she adds, pointing a finger at Victor before he can speak up.
Castiel accepts the plate, and it does smell delicious. "I really think you've outdone yourself this time," he says to Jess as she heads back toward the kitchen.
"Save your compliments for when you've already tried it," Jess responds.
"Anyway, when are you planning on joining?" Sam asks Victor, continuing the conversation from before. "I mean, you're the only one supporting your mom, right?"
"It's not so bad," Victor answers. After a pause, he adds, "I'd rather not talk about it, though."
Sam nods. "Yeah, of course. Sorry—"
"It's fine, you don't have to apologize," Victor interrupts.
"Okay, I've got forks and knives, and a stack of napkins," Jess announces. She places the napkins on the coffee table and passes the utensils around.
"Um, I think it'd be easier for us to just sit on the floor and use the coffee table," Jo says.
"Yeah, let's do that. Cas keeps this place pretty clean," Dean says.
"You would know," Jo says, putting her plate down on the coffee table and sitting down on the ground. The others follow suit, and it's a bit of a squeeze because there are six of them together, but it's cozy too—Januarys are cold in Lawrence.
Before anyone can start eating, Jess blurts out, "Hey wait, we haven't sang yet!"
"Oh, come on. Can we not do that?" Dean says.
"We'll sing over the pie," Victor says.
"Great!" Jo says. "Now let's eat."
As soon as the door closes behind Sam and Jess, Castiel finds himself pinned to it. He sighs. "Dean, at least let me clean up a little first."
"The mess will be there tomorrow morning," Dean murmurs in his ear, and it's tempting, but Castiel would rather leave the dishes soaking in the sink than out on the table.
"Dean, if you don't let me go right now—"
"Okay, okay," Dean says, backing off.
Fuck it, Castiel thinks. He spins around and catches Dean off-guard, manages to clock him in the jaw. Dean reels back—son of a bitch! he snaps—but he's grinning, and Castiel ducks the fist that comes flying at his face. Castiel doesn't like fighting with his back up against a door, so he gives Dean a hard shove, trying to make a little more room for himself. Dean's hand latches onto his forearm, tugging him within reach, and Castiel throws himself to the side, flattening against the wall to avoid a blow. He aims a kick at Dean's thigh, but Dean sidesteps it and scrabbles for Castiel's other arm.
Castiel manages to wriggle out, but Dean sticks a leg out to trip him, and Castiel stumbles down the length of the hall, catching himself on the back of the sofa. But it gives Dean time to catch up, and before Castiel can push away from the couch, Dean's pressed against his back, pinning his hips to it.
"Mm, I like this," Dean breathes hotly, tongue flicking out against Castiel's earlobe.
Castiel hesitates, giving Dean a moment to enjoy his supposed triumph, before throwing his head back, whacking it into Dean's. It hurts him, sure, but it hurts Dean too, and at least Castiel is expecting the pain.
"Goddamn!" Dean curses, staggering back a step, and Castiel slips out from between Dean and the couch and darts into his bedroom. He hears Dean following close behind him, so he spins around, half-crouching to anticipate Dean's next move.
Dean's arm shoots out, and Castiel parries, dodging to the left and countering with a punch to Dean's chest. But Dean rotates his torso so that Castiel's fist only brushes against him, and he wraps his hand around Castiel's arm and pushes at Castiel's shoulder in an attempt to pin his arm behind his back. Deducing his intention, Castiel ducks and twists around, keeping his arm in front of him. This puts Dean between Castiel and the bed, so Castiel lunges forward, barreling into Dean.
Dean grunts in surprise when they land on the bed, Castiel on top of him. Castiel pins Dean's right arm to the bed with his leg, but the other moves too quickly, clips Castiel's jaw before he can catch it. Still Castiel manages to stay on top of Dean, grabs his left hand and shoves it into the mattress before pressing his own free hand to Dean's neck.
"Yield," Castiel demands.
Dean struggles against his hold until Castiel tightens his grip around Dean's neck. At that, Dean finally lies still, breathing unevenly. Castiel smiles triumphantly, but a mischievous look flashes in Dean's eyes, and then Dean suddenly surges up, throwing Castiel to the side. Castiel loses his hold on Dean's neck—he'd loosened his grip when he thought he'd won—and flops ungracefully onto the ground. Dean is on him before he can react, and Castiel's at a distinct disadvantage this time because he's on his stomach.
"Yield?" Dean huffs, leaning down so that his lips brush Castiel's ear. "What do you think this is, a medieval duel?"
Castiel chuckles. "Okay, okay, you win. Now get off me."
"Oh, I don't think so," Dean says, and Castiel can practically hear him grinning. "I should fuck you right here, just like this."
"Is that supposed to scare me, Dean?"
Instead of responding verbally, Dean shifts and sinks his teeth into the back of Castiel's neck, drawing an involuntary hiss of pain from him.
"That hurt," Castiel complains.
"Yeah, that was what I was going for," Dean answers. He slides off Castiel's back, but when Castel tries to get up, he presses Castiel back down firmly.
"I don't want to have sex on the ground, Dean," Castiel says, sighing. "Aren't you worried about rug burn?"
"Hmm," Dean says, but Castiel can tell from the tone of his voice that he's considering Castiel's words only mockingly. "Nope," he decides. "Not worried at all. Stay right there."
Castiel considers getting up when he hears Dean walking around to the other side of the bed, but it is Dean's birthday, so Castiel chooses to obey instead.
"C'mon. Hands and knees," Dean says when he's behind Castiel again.
Castiel hesitates for a moment before following Dean's instructions. Then Dean's reaching around him, unsnapping his jeans and pushing the zipper down. Impatient hands pull at Castiel's jeans and underwear, tugging them down just far enough that his ass is exposed.
"In a hurry, are you?" Castiel says, and Dean chuckles.
"Yeah, in a hurry to get inside you," Dean answers.
There's the click of a bottle opening, and then Dean's slick finger is pressing at Castiel's entrance, working inside quickly but gently. Castiel doesn't remember the last time he was desperate enough to have sex while still mostly clothed, but at least this means he won't get rug burn on his knees. Dean's fingers—two now—suddenly press on Castiel's prostate, hard, and Castiel cries out, muscles locking up.
"There you are," Dean says, scissoring his fingers. "Thought I'd lost you for a minute."
Castiel stifles another groan at Dean's ministrations and manages to get out, "Oh, no—can't have that."
Dean huffs a laugh. "You're mouthy today, Cas," he says, starting to work a third finger in, and he's going faster than usual, but it's good enough that Castiel doesn't care, just wants more.
But as soon as Castiel starts pressing back against Dean's fingers, Dean slows down, and Castiel can't help the frustrated grunt that escapes his lips. "Dean," he complains, clenching tight around Dean's fingers.
"Fuck, Cas," Dean hisses, shoving his fingers in and twisting. Castiel jerks involuntarily, arches his back to shove his ass back at Dean, and earns a simultaneously amused and breathy chuckle. "Like that, hmm?" Dean says, repeating the motion.
Castiel whimpers at the stimulation, and Christ, his jeans aren't even pulled down enough to expose his erection. He rocks his hips back and forth, trying to get some friction from his pants, but Dean stills him with a hard grip on his hip.
"We're doing this my way," Dean says.
Before Castiel can protest, Dean's fingers pull out of his body, and Castiel spreads his legs a bit wider in anticipation. The blunt pressure of Dean's cock pushing into him is the perfect amount of stretch, with just the slightest bit of pain. Castiel bites his lip to stifle his own groan, listening to the whine that passes through Dean's lips.
"Fuuuuuck," Dean moans. "Never gonna get enough of this."
Castiel wants to respond, but Dean pulls out and shoves back in, hard, knocking the breath right out of him. Dean sets a quick pace, and Castiel tries his best to keep up. He drops to his elbows, and the change in angle makes it so that Dean's hitting the perfect spot with every thrust. Castiel can't stop the embarrassing sounds that make it out of his throat at that, and fuck, he's gonna come in his pants, and there's nothing he can do about it.
It only takes a few more strokes to set Castiel off, and he'd be embarrassed about coming so quickly, except that he can feel Dean's hips juddering to a halt as he climaxes.
Dean pulls out, and Castiel turns around to see Dean getting to his feet, knees shaking a bit. He removes his pants the rest of the way and collapses onto Castiel's bed, breathing hard. Castiel feels Dean's come trickling back out and sighs, because this means he's gonna have to clean the carpet—tomorrow, not today, because he's in no state for cleaning right now.
"That was awesome," Dean says.
"Happy birthday," Castiel responds, and Dean just laughs. Castiel gives himself another minute before standing up and undressing. "I need a shower," he proclaims, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper before heading off in the direction of the bathroom.
The water hasn't even warmed up yet when Dean catches up to him.