Life was good. In fact, Castiel thought happily, life was great.
He couldn't remember the last time things had been this good. He woke up in the mornings, and didn't find himself wishing he hadn't had to get up. The flower shop was doing well, his plants at home had survived to see spring, Gabriel was moving in with Kali, the weather was beginning to warm.
And there was Dean.
Dean, with his beautiful green eyes and galaxy of freckles. With his sense of humor and his love for cars and secret soft spot for romance (Dean swore up and down that it didn't happen, but Castiel had caught him crying when they watched Titanic). His Dean.
Castiel was sure that had Dean not decided to buy that bouquet from the shop back in February, things wouldn't be going this smoothly.
Sure, things hadn't been necessarily bad before. They'd been average. He had just been existing, going through the motions. But since Dean had shown up, things had brightened. Cas was alive, felt like he was walking on air. Like he was soaring through the clouds, where nothing could touch him.
Of course, that didn't mean things didn't get shitty sometimes.
June third started like any day. Customers came and went throughout the morning and afternoon. Castiel and Gabriel ate lunch in the back room and chatted between orders.
It was ten minutes to closing when Dean came.
"Hey," he said, eyes lighting up when he saw Cas.
Cas smiled. "Hello, Dean." He leaned over the counter towards Dean for a chaste kiss.
Dean obliged him happily.
"Dean-o!" Gabriel came rushing out from the back room. "How are you? Here, made you some pie." He thrust a container into Dean's hands.
"When did you make pie?" Castiel asked him.
"Oh, you know. Earlier." There was a gleam in Gabriel's eyes that Castiel didn't trust.
"Thanks. What kind?" Dean cracked the container lid open, and then looked up to glare at Gabriel. "Really?"
"What did he do?" Cas said, peeking into the container.
Instead of pie, there was a paper cutout of pi. Gabriel grinned. "I made pi. Among… other things."
"April Fools Day has been over for months," Cas said, "so you can stop trying to be as obnoxious as possible to everyone."
Gabriel shrugged. "I'm not being obnoxious. And if I am, it's only towards Dean since he wasn't here April first."
"It's June, Gabriel," Cas said, deadpan.
"It's June?" Dean said. "Shit, it's June. Sam's coming in, like, four days."
"When does his flight land?" Cas inquired.
"Sometime in the afternoon. I've gotta check with him about that. Probably should also clean the apartment."
"Do you need any help?"
"With cleaning the apartment?"
Castiel nodded.
"My super hot boyfriend could potentially help," Dean said, "but not his trickster brother."
"Come on, you're going to have a party and not invite me?" Gabriel complained. "I'm hurt."
"Why don't you go do something, Gabriel?" Castiel suggested, giving him the look.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Fine." He headed back into the back room.
Cas turned back to Dean and opened his mouth to say something.
The bell rang.
"One moment," Cas said, turning towards the customer.
The woman was surveying the shop with warm brown eyes when they rested on Dean. Her face hardened. "Dean."
"Lisa," Dean said coolly.
So this was Lisa Braeden. Dean's ex-girlfriend who had gotten the- in Castiel's opinion- well deserved "fuck you" bouquet.
Dark coffee brown hair, a red professional dress, and an expression of utter disgust on her face. Disgust aimed at Dean.
Something hot and angry pooled in Castiel's stomach.
"You might not want to associate with him," Lisa said, turning to Castiel. "He's a homosexual."
Castiel's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "He's my boyfriend."
Lisa's was unreadable for a moment. "Oh." She took a breath and forced a smile onto her face. "You know, you can see a doctor for it. I tried to convince Dean to go, but he decided he wanted to stay like that. Broken."
"Dean is not broken," Cas snapped. "He's perfect how he is, and if you can't see that, then that is your problem, not his!"
Lisa bristled. "It's unnatural!"
"You'll find, in fact, that it is quite natural, seeing as it is found plenty in nature. Penguins, dolphins, giraffes, and plenty of other species have the capability to identify as homosexual. Humans are no different."
Lisa opened her mouth to argue. "That's-"
"We actually have a no tolerance policy when it comes to homophobia," Gabriel cut her off, stepping out of the back room.
There was a tense silence, then Lisa turned on her heel and made for the door.
"Have a nice day, asshole!" Gabriel called after her.
The bell rang as the door closed behind her.
"We should put up a sign in the window with that on it," he mused. "Or a flag. What do you think, Cassie?"
"Perhaps. Dean? You alright?" Cas turned to look at him.
Dean looked slightly shaken now, not as collected as he had been when Lisa first walked in.
"Fine," he said, sounding falsely confident. "I'm fine."
Castiel wanted to be angry at Lisa- he could tell Dean was not fine, and it was because she had shown up- but anger was not what Dean needed right now.
"Dean," Cas prompted gently.
Dean just shook his head.
"I'm going to go hire a hit man," Gabriel said cheerfully. "Be back in a minute." He disappeared back into the back room.
Cas closed his hand around Dean's.
They were silent for a moment.
"When I was in high school, my dad walked in on me and another guy. The guy left pretty quickly, and when he was gone, you know what my dad said?" Dean's voice hardened. "'You fucking faggot.' And then he- well, it wasn't pretty. When he was done, he pulled out the whiskey, got drunk, and screamed at me some more because I guess it's no fair to him that I was broken. Why couldn't he have a good son who was on the football team and had a cheerleader girlfriend and shit? But no, he got a son who's not limited to just girls and sucks at football. Sucks to be John Winchester.
"And Lisa Braeden? 'You're great, Dean, you really are, but you need help. It's not your fault you're broken.' Well, fuck you, Lisa, because I'm not going to let some psycho strap me to a chair and electrocute me. Not happening. I'm not broken because I'm bi, so why can't people just- just stop telling me that I am? It's fudging stupid, and I wish they would just mind their own fucking business! Or if they have to stick their noses in my life, why can't they just accept me? Is it really that hard?"
Cas squeezed his hand lightly. "It shouldn't be."
"Then why do they keep insisting there's something wrong with me?"
"Because they're assbutts," Cas said.
The ghost of a smile flitted across Dean's face. "Assbutts? Really?"
"I think it's an adequate term. Unless you have a better one."
Gabriel chose that moment to barge back in. "Loki said that he'll call one of his guys, she'll be taken care of by the end of the week. All good in here?"
Dean snorted feebly. "Your friend is a hit man?"
"Yup. And he's going to solve all your problems. Think of it as an early birthday present."
"You didn't actually ask Loki to kill her, did you?" Castiel turned to look at Gabriel.
Gabriel shrugged. "Well…."
"Gabriel!"
"I just told him to freak her out," he said. "What's the harm in that?"
"Being arrested."
"So I take it you want me to cancel?"
"Yes, please."
Gabriel sighed, evidently disappointed. "Fine. Let me know if you change your mind." He left the room.
"Hey, Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"How'd you know all those nature facts? About dolphins being gay and shit."
"Next time you come over to my place, I'll show you," Cas told him.
"Is it that secret?" Dean said. He wasn't back to his normal, loud banter, but his tone had a teasing edge to it.
Cas gave a small smile. "No, but we don't have a television in here, so I can't pull up the discovery channel."
"Discovery channel?" Dean was incredulous. "Hell no. I'll put up with your sappy romance movies, but I draw the line at watching discovery channel."
Castiel rolled his eyes. "It's fascinating."
Dean gave him a look. "It's not as good as Indiana Jones. Or Star Wars. Or westerns. Or, you know, good stuff."
"I happen to know for a fact that you actually enjoy Shark Week, which takes place on discovery."
"Where'd you hear that?"
Cas grinned at him smugly. "Kevin."
Dean scowled. "Dammit, Kevin!"
When Lisa had shown up and started talking, it had un-gagged the voice in the back of his head that was worried about Sam's visit. The one that said, if he ever finds out, he'll leave you. He'll hate you.
Dean had been ignoring it since Sam had asked if he could come. Lately, he'd been doing a good job of it. Then Lisa Braeden had to show up.
When he and Cas had had that dangerously close to a chick flick talk (thank god Cas had decided to invent the word assbutt instead of giving him one of those big, sappy speeches) he had been honest- he was sick of people thinking they knew what was right for him, tired of people assuming he was just another machine that needed oiling, even when he was running fine.
The one thing he hadn't mentioned was how terrified he was that Sam would join the ever increasing list of people who wrote him off as in need of repair.
That was one of the things he didn't like to think about. How Sam might react if he found out. Funny, considering how he thought about it often. Right now, though, Dean was intent on forgetting. Intent on thinking about something else, distracting himself.
That was what he was trying to do now, while he sat on the couch of his apartment drinking a beer. Or three.
Fuck, what was he going to do when Sam showed up? Sam was going to be staying with him, he was going to be here in Sioux Falls, where Lisa could see him and tell him, or he could walk in on Dean with Cas, or Charlie or Jo could accidentally let something slip. There were so many things that could go wrong.
But, like Cas had said, things might not. And Cas was usually right, wasn't he? Dean trusted him. So maybe he should tell Sam. And maybe things would go alright. Maybe it wouldn't blow up in his face and leave him estranged from his brother.
Could he really take that chance though?
He wasn't sure; the beer was making it hard to think straight. That probably meant he should stop drinking.
Dean looked at his half gone bottle. Oh well. Wouldn't hurt to finish this one.
And it didn't. Until the next morning when he woke up with a headache and a parched throat.
Fricking hangovers.
The only good thing that came of growing up around John Winchester was an expansive knowledge of hangover cures, courtesy of his drinking problem.
Most people would think that because of John's problem, Dean would avoid drinking. Nope. It was a coping mechanism, and that was the whole point. As long as he was responsible, it was fine.
And, as Dean told himself whenever he used it, he was not his father.
Not your father, not your father, not your father.
So what if John had drank to run away from his problems too? Dean wasn't going to abandon Sam or Cas, he wasn't going to leave the people he loved. Never. They deserved better than that, so he would do his damn best to stay.
Dean made his way from the couch to the fridge and started rooting around for orange juice.
One gag-inducing Winchester hangover cure later, he was making his way downstairs to the Impala. Inventory of the fridge made him realize that he was lacking in food. At least, food that Sam would eat. Dean didn't see what was wrong with excessive amounts of bacon and Winchester surprise, but his brother was under the impression that it wasn't healthy enough.
"Healthy my ass," Dean had told him last time Sam complained about the contents of his fridge. It hadn't stopped him from going to the store and coming back half an hour later with his arms full of lettuce.
Sam had grinned and announced he was making a salad.
Why the hell was he so set on being healthy? Screw carrots, you couldn't go wrong with a good cheeseburger.
Like then, Dean's personal aversions didn't stop him from buying an obnoxious amount of rabbit food to stuff in the fridge for Sam when he came.
It was taking all his willpower and some not to worry, because it was three days to when Sam would fly in, three days to when he was going to have to lie to Sam's face, three days to when he was going to have to be vigilant of every word that left his mouth and pray that he wasn't suspicious, pray that his brother wouldn't hate him-
Three days.
Dean didn't want to think about how panicked he would be the day Sam was flying in.
He could really go for another beer right now.
A few beers later, a not-quite-sober Dean had an idea: it would be impossible to worry about Sam finding out if he already knew. Before he could think it through, Dean's phone was in hand. He selected an action.
Call Sammy.