Dean is furious and Benny has been apologizing profusely for spilling the beans about Rhonda for, like, the past 15 minutes. But Dean isn't having any of it. He rarely ever brings friends home, in general, and now he kind of regrets inviting Benny over tonight. Besides, he doesn't feel like sitting on the porch stairs with Benny right now, speaking in hushed tones so they're not overheard; he wants to be inside the house with his mom, to see how he's doing and to, sort of, monitor the situation.

Is his Sammy still fuming? Because he looked like he was fuming, only inwardly. What does he think of all this? Is he mad about not knowing or at the idea that Dean is seeing someone to begin with? If it's the latter, then there's hope. Then maybe it means his mom is starting to feel something too. It would mean their bond is being welded already; that his grand plan is working. It would also mean he's in deep trouble. And that he may be in fact ruining his own progress. He doesn't want to send mixed messages, here.

He wants to hear from Sammy - even get heavily scolded or get his ears boxed. He knows he deserves it, for hiding something so big from his mom.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop is unnerving.

Dean was also kind of hoping he could change his dad's mind about meeting Rhonda, there's no way he's bringing her into his home, to meet his parents, like she's a real girlfriend, like she matters. How could his dad think Dean is serious about her? How could Sammy?

In the worst case scenario, Dean thinks, if his dad insists, he'll just make something up, an excuse so Rhonda never has to show her face here. He'll do that repeatedly if he has to, until his dad eases off or gets off his back altogether.

Speaking of his dad, Dean can't hear anything from the house any more. Not Castiel or mom or Adam, or the usual post-dinner commotion. It's not a quiet house when his dad is around; his dad likes to fill everyone in on his day at the office, especially Sam.

Have they turned in already? Dear God, are they, you know, in their room, getting intimate right now, while Dean's on the porch, stuck with Benny?

Damn it.

After Dean feels Benny has been lectured enough for one night, the boys soon go back to talking about lighter things, like summer plans, their highly-anticipated venture into high school next year, and of course, the school's hot girls. At the moment, neither of them is in the mood for studying, that's how they ended up outside, and anyway, Benny should be leaving soon. Dean's mind and heart are half into the conversation with Benny, however. And what's said is nothing of real importance until Benny starts braving dangerously new territory: talking about Dean's mom. His Sam.

"You know, your mom is the first male omega that I ever get to know."

"Yeah. So?" Dean says, uneasy as to where this is headed. He realizes that it's not every day that people run into male Omegas. There aren't a lot of them. Still, it doesn't mean he wants to talk about his own.

"It's kinda hot."

"What do you mean?!" says Dean, a little incredulous. Benny has some nerves on him.

"Well, all I'm sayin' is that your dad is a lucky man. He gets to have an omega man. A male omega, for crying out loud! And so handsome. No wonder why he's so infatuated, even after all these years, it shows, man. Your dad worships your mom. My dad barely looks at my mom anymore. But your mom is-"

"Careful, Benny." Dean warns, partly furious just for the sole reason that Benny is talking about his dad and mom's relationship like it's unbreakable, like Sammy belongs to Castiel or something, like it's a done deal. Dean begs to differ. If he could, he would show Benny just how much his mom equally belongs to him, and that's just now. In the future, there will be no place for Castiel to begin with, if all goes as planned.

"I didn't say anythin' bad here. It's just that your mom is freakin' gorgeous. His body-"

"Woah, dude! Are you out of your mind?"

"What? He is gorgeous!"

And Benny is not wrong, especially today. Although his mom was brooding, his pout was so goddamn sexy it hurt Dean's heart just to look at him, all while fighting the urge to plant a hard-mouthed one on his lips, until he swoons.

And ever since Adam (who's three years old now) has been going slow on the nursing, and Dean not getting much of that either, with his mom being distant and withdrawn, Sam's chest has shrunk, his boobs becoming at least half a size smaller. Now that would have been bad if it weren't for the fact that because of the size shift, Sammy rarely ever wears a bra inside the house anymore, meaning Dean can usually get a glimpse of his perky nipples pushing against the thin shirts he always dons. On most days he could make out the shape of Sam's pecs through his shirts, and they're round and dainty, and it's so sexy how only a flimsy piece of fabric is separating them from Dean. He wishes he would bare them to his eyes, and eat them.

He hates the thought that Benny was most probably inspecting his mother, sizing him up and ogling his beautiful form. Maybe he noticed that his breasts were poking out. Maybe he dared to fantasize. He feels he should've been more watchful of Benny at dinner earlier, especially of where his eyes wander.

Benny is a typical Alpha, a knot-head, from a very traditional household, with an obnoxious, womanizing Alpha for a father and a submissive omega for a mother. When Dean first told Benny about his own mom, that he's a male omega, Benny was impressed, murmuring that omega men are as rare and precious as diamonds in this society. His dad's words too, not only his. He kept pestering Dean with questions. "Is your mom a submissive? Does he wear dresses?," and when Dean reluctantly responded, the insinuations in Benny's next questions became dirtier. "Does he wear lingerie around the house? Is his equipment, you know, big like Alphas? Is he womanly in any way?" Like Benny is trying to fucking picture it all.

It made Dean feel like his family is a freak show, like they should be featured on the National Geographic for fuck's sake.

He also never appreciated all the prodding, mainly because no, he doesn't like to publicize that his mom never wore dresses, or is not effeminate and has always refused to be prototypical in any way or form - except for bearing children and being OK with the label "mom" as opposed to being called "dad".

Imagine if he'd been forced to call Sam "dad" on top of all this. That would've been unacceptable, Dean thinks. He wouldn't have done it, on principle.

Dean usually gave Benny clipped answers, and he never humored his questions for too long.

And now, sitting on the porch after Rhonda-gate, he feels like shutting him up again, feeling increasingly protective of his mom, and sensing he might have been slightly violated by Benny's gaze at dinner, to Dean's utter oblivion. Benny better NOT be perving on his mom right now or imagining his mommy in compromising positions, with Castiel or otherwise. Dean would have his head on a stick if he feels Benny is entertaining any dirty thoughts about his Sammy.

So there. "Just shut the fuck up, before I make you Benny."

"Fine! I just envy your dad to be honest."

"Benny! You want a taste of my right hook?"

"Alright, alright," he says then his phone beeps. "Ok, time to go anyway. My ride's here," he motions with one hand in the general direction of the street, where a car is slowly approaching. "You alright, Dean? You seem a little on edge still."

"I'm OK, dude. I'll see you tomorrow at school, alright?"

"But we're OK? This Rhonda shit didn't make a dent in our friendship or anything?"

"Since when do you get all sensitive and caring Benny? Should I be worried?" Dean teases, amused by Benny's apologetic stance, and relieved he's leaving, along with all his curiosity about Sam. Benny is a pig sometimes.

"Just making sure my best friend is ok, asshole. Earlier, you were wound up tight. And you're still moody."

"Now, you're just turning into a girl. Get going, Ben, before our balls shrink and we grow lady parts sitting here talking about feelings."

"Right. See you tomorrow, ballsack."

"See ye, jerk!"

...

Later that night

Dean is suddenly awake, his sleep was awfully restless anyway due to the realization that his mom and dad are locked up in their room, probably going at it like bunnies. In moments like these, Dean loathes his dad and he feels like punching holes through the wall from sheer frustration and jealousy. In a weird way, he's in a better form than he ever were, having marginally trained himself to get used to the idea that his parents are regularly sleeping together, and that this will continue, at least until his plan is complete and he'd managed to separate them - and yes, Dean doesn't have any qualms thinking about driving a wedge between Sammy and Castiel. It's meant to be. He didn't force himself to want his mom, it just happened. He's not evil. Sure, it's unfortunate that his dad would have to step aside, but it is what it is. The alternative would be Dean giving up his right to his omega, and sorry but he can't do that, not even for his dad, who's barely traditional anyway. Castiel is most welcome to go look for another omega, or even a beta (since he'll treat his omega like one anyway), and fall in love with him or her. Dean doesn't mind a step-mom or dad, he's an easy son.

He looks at his bedside clock. It's 12:24 am. And he's barely had any proper sleep. And it doesn't look like he'll have any tonight.

Shit, waking up for school will be a bitch tomorrow.

He tries to doze off again, but fails. Instead, he keeps rolling around in the bed, from side to side. Kicking the thin blanket off then pulling it back on his body again, changing positions every few seconds, sprawling then curling up on himself, and finally utterly failing to find a resting state that would put him at ease and help him slip back into slumber.

So in the end, Dean gives up, jumps out of bed and decides to leave his room altogether.

He's in his boxers, hair mussy and eyes bloodshot - but it's not like anyone's gonna see him anyway.

If he can't have some decent shut-eye or manage to go back to sleep, he might as well properly wake up, eyes wide open. If his parents didn't forbid it, he would put something on and go for an after-midnight run, to get the tension out of his system (he asked once before, and he was given the stink eye by his mom). It's not like he'll be eaten by wild dogs if he ventures alone at night, he's a strong kid and an Alpha, and a boxer with a promising future in the sport on top of that, he can take most people. But, yeah, his mom was up in arms against the idea. And his dad backed Sammy up completely.

Outnumbered, Dean didn't bring it up again.

Perhaps he'll go check on Adam, he thinks, then trudges barefoot to Adam's room. Adam is sound asleep, looking like a little angel. He looks more like Dean than he does either Castiel or Sam, and Dean finds it endearing. God, does Dean love this kid! He bends forward and plants a soft kiss on his little brother's forehead, then watches him sleep for a few moments. It's actually relaxing just looking at his baby brother, sleeping so serenely without any burdens, Dean thinks.

For a second he wonders about how his plan will affect Adam, if burdens will eventually find their way to him, because of Dean's silent plotting, especially when Adam grows up in a broken home if Dean has his way.

The thought is disturbing and Dean quickly dismisses it. It won't be a broken home; it'll be a loving one, where Dean and Sam are openly together, for good, and Adam is loved and cared for by both of them. Dean will always protect Adam. He'll die before harming him in any way. Castiel would still be there of course, albeit on the peripheries, as their father, but not as Sam's lover or husband.

"It'll be OK," Dean whispers to his oblivious sibling, as if the alternative non-painful future he drew in his head to calm his conscience is secured and sealed.

When he finally leaves Adam's room, ready to walk down to the kitchen for some chow (because seriously, he's got nothing better to do) a small sound from the nearby bathroom catches Dean's attention. He treads lightly towards it and it sounds like someone's retching. Worried, Dean knocks on the door. "Is everything alright in there?" It's his mom who answers on the other side, after a long pause, with the affirmative.

God, it sounds like his mommy is sick and now Dean feels a hundred times guiltier than before he went to sleep. Of all the days on Earth, Benny chose today to rat him out, when things are already tricky with his mom, and when Sammy is obviously sick. He thought he forgave the bastard, but you know what, fuck it, he's cutting him out. Stupid Benny!

"You don't sound so good, mom," he responds back.

"It's OK, Dean. Just go back to bed." His mom sounds like he will pass out or something.

"No, I'm coming in," he says, as he turns the door knob, and as per usual, it's unlocked. Sam is the kind of parent who shuts his bathroom door but doesn't lock it, just in case. With a toddler in the house, it makes sense. Sam likes to be available at all times, and he generally doesn't set strict boundaries for his children either - a glaringly obvious trait! Dean usually respects his mom's restroom privacy but he's not doing this now, not when Sammy sounds like he's in distress.

He lets himself in and shuts the door behind him. Sam is on his knees, bent over the toilet bowl, and when he sees Dean walking in, he can't help the wave of nausea that overtakes him and he starts dry heaving into the bowl again. Sam's mouth remains dry. Nothing is actually happening except that it looks like Sammy is on the verge of hyperventilating, and Dean is immediately overcome with worry over his mom, and now he's bursting at the seams with guilt.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" He says as he approaches, sitting himself down beside his mom, who's sweaty and looking worn out. Sam is wearing only a threadbare shirt and a pair of shorts that don't hide much of his long legs and toned thighs. Otherwise, his hair is damp and his eyes are swollen with tears, and he looks utterly miserable. "Just a little queazy, Dean," his mom whispers and it's the understatement of the century.

Dean's heart breaks a little. He suddenly feels like hugging his mommy so tight neither of them can breathe, putting into the hug all of his love and his longing until the intensity of it consumes them both. Suddenly, he feels like a piece of shit for even allowing someone like Rhonda into his life, and not just devoting his all to his mom. What the hell were you thinking Winchester? He scolds himself, as he gives his mom another once-over and takes in his sorry state. He knows it's probably not him that's causing all this, his mom might be coming down with something, but still, he must have contributed somehow. He can feel it.

"Mom," he says softly.

"What are you doing here, Dean? Really? Go back to your room."

"No!"

"No?"

"Yeah, you heard me, mom. I'm not leaving you."

His mom softens a little. "It's nothing. I'm probably coming down with something, and whatever it is, I don't want you to catch it from me. You've got school tomorrow, you shouldn't be up, Dean. It's past midnight."

"Fuck school," Dean retorts.

"Dean!"

"Mom, you're more important. And it's not just stomach upset, you've been crying. You're clearly upset!"

His mom tears up, and shakes his head no.

Sammy's kidding himself if he thinks Dean's budging before he gets to the bottom of this. Something's been off with his mom for weeks and he knows it. Maybe Sam's not sick. He's heaving, but he's not actually throwing up - it looks more like he's having difficulty breathing more than anything else. Maybe this is some kind of a panic attack.

"Mommy, look ..."

"Enough, Dean! Just leave," Sam says, his attempt at being firm and final failing miserably as more tears spring to his eyes. Dean's heart breaks into a million pieces, and he can't help but throw himself into his mom's arms. To his surprise, his mom hugs him back, just as fiercely, heaving sobs racking his body.

They stay like this, locked in each other's arms, for a minute or so, until his mom calms down a little. It's Dean who pulls back to look at his face, and gaze into his eyes - hoping to see some truth there, or at least some clues to what's ruffling Sam's feathers so. When his mom looks back, Dean can get a glimpse into the depth of his sadness, and confusion, and Dean is suddenly, completely rattled by the idea that Rhonda, and his relationship with her, might have caused some of this. He decides to broach the subject head on. No more dancing around it, he can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry about Rhonda," he whispers. And Sam breaks eye contact and pulls away, or tries to. Dean holds on tighter. "No, mom, let me say this. I can see it's bothering you."

"It's fine, Dean," he says, dismissive, squirming, obviously wanting to escape from Dean's arms.

"No, it's not. But I want you to know I kept it to myself because it means nothing. Nothing, Ok?" Sam just shakes his head, a single tear escapes his eye, and he smiles, unbelieving.

"I'm not lying to you, mom. Mom, look at me! Come on ... Sammy!" That gets his mom's attention, and keeps it on him. He's never called him Sammy before. His mom is more confused now, but attentive, locking eyes with his son again. "I would never, ever lie to you about something like this. You're everything," he says, then he gently places a hand at the side of Sam's face, and start kissing his wet-with-tears lips.

As he does, his mom's shoulders drop, like all the fight is leaving his body. Dean deepens his kiss, and brings on his A-game for this one, the tip of his tongue pushing off against Sam's lips, wanting to get inside. Sam opens up for him, without hesitation, and Dean starts moving his open mouth against Sam's, their tongues twisting around each other, tasting and devouring.

When it's done, they're both slightly panting from lack of air and are a little worse for wear, in a good way. Color is creeping back into Sam's face, and he looks less distraught. Dean gently takes him back into his arms and rests his forehead against his mom's. They close their eyes, and just melt into the comfort of each other's embrace.

After another moment of silence, his mom speaks up.

"Why didn't you tell me? I mean, I understand when you say it's not important but why keep it all from me?"

"I ..." Dean breathes out then stops.

"I saw the pictures on your phone, of her," Sam says, quietly, and Dean's heart drops. He opens his eyes, but his mom's are still shut. "A few weeks back. I'm sorry I went looking." That doesn't make sense, Dean thinks.

Or maybe it does. Could it be? Could this be why his mom was aloof. Was he angry at Dean for hiding her? or is it something more? Sam can't even get himself to say Rhonda's name, apparently... Does his mom feel it too? What's between them? Are they finally coming to the same page, here?

Dean is suddenly dizzy with the near-revelation and the possibilities it holds, for him, for them!

"You slept with her, Dean."

"Yeah. I did. She's not the only one."

His mom swallows audibly, still resting against him, but now turns his face to the side. Their foreheads are still connecting, albeit at different angles.

"I love you, mom." It just slips out of Dean. He doesn't know what else to say. What is there to say really, except that? And he doesn't mean it the platonic way. And on some level, his mom senses it, because he pulls back, and so does Dean, and they stare into each other's eyes, his mom's searching his, almost desperately.

He repeats it for good measure, stressing on every word. "I love you."

Sam nods, and for the first time Dean knows that his mom finally gets it ... gets what it really means.

He looks away, shakes his head a little, like he's dismissing a thought. "Dean, I can't ..."

And suddenly, it feels like a burden has been lifted despite Sammy's words, despite his "I can't". Dean is talking openly - as openly as he can, at this point - about something he feels like he's been bottling inside his chest for centuries, instead of a few years.

"Can't or won't?" He asks softly.

His mom laughs a little laugh but it's mirthless. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to me!" Dean insists, his voice pleading.

"Dean, it's ... uh, complicated."

Dean nods.

"Ok, you know what?" Dean says, inspiration hitting him in the depth of the moment. "Right now, it's not. Right now, you're tired, and hurt. I hurt you, mom. And I wanna make it up to you. As your son. As someone who worships you. Let me do this for you." Sam face lights up at the words. And Dean says them but doesn't wait for an answer.

He takes his mommy's arm and helps him stand up. Sam's knees are a little wobbly from kneeling for so long but he balances himself with Dean's aid. Dean drags Sam slowly to the bathroom mirror, which takes a big portion of one wall. He makes him face it, and Sam is reflected in it from his head to the end of his torso now, Dean standing behind him and slightly to his left. Dean may be heavily built and he's the tallest among his friends, nearing six feet at barely 16, but Sam is at least four inches taller than his son.

Sam leans against Dean and is taking heavy breaths, his eyes are closed, like he's bracing himself for something, like he's on the verge of jumping off a plank into unknown waters and he can't bear to look. Dean caresses his arms lightly with the tips of his fingers to relax him, gets on tiptoes and plants a barely-there kiss on the side of his jaw, then another lower on his neck, and whispers, "beautiful". And for the second time tonight, Sam exhales and relaxes, most of the tension leaves his body.

"Mom, open your eyes," he whispers, almost into his ears. And Sammy's obviously reluctant, but after a couple of seconds, does it anyway. "Look at you. The most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes upon," Dean says and starts caressing him again with a finger as he speaks. "Your face, your eyes, your cheekbones, your lips," Dean continues as he runs a finger across Sam's face and along the fullness of his lips. "Your arms, your breasts," he adds, trailing his fingers gently up his mom's right arm, across his collarbone then down. He cups a boob, fondling it, and rubs his thumb against the nipple. "So pretty, mom. ... Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. Do you know how long I've loved you?"

Sam's eyes meet Dean's in the mirror and they fill with tears at the question. Sam slowly nods. Dean smiles wide, "good," he says, then turns Sam's face to the side, and gives his towering mommy a deep, lingering kiss. "Let me take care of you for once. Let me wash you," Dean says right into Sammy's lips, and again, Sammy nods, like he's hypnotized. Dean gives him another peck on the lips, and thinks this is it. This is the beginning of everything.

He leaves his mom for just a moment to turn on the shower water, close the tub's drain stopper and let it fill as the water sprays. He locks the bathroom door, then he gets back to their position at the mirror. "I want you to watch, sweetheart, as I undress you. I want you to see how beautiful you are. How perfect."

And it's like a dream how Sammy, his mom, lets himself go and lets Dean take off his clothes - he raises his arms above his head as Dean takes his shirt off, watches his breasts get bared to his son's eyes, looks at Dean looking at him, eating him with his eyes, he doesn't flinch when Dean tugs on the waistbands of his shorts and slips them off of him. He steps out of them, the air touching his uncovered skin, making him conscious of his nudity, his naked ass, his cock soft but filling up, slowly jutting out of a nest of dark hair, as Dean watches. His own son looking at him, like this, taking him all in, from head to toe.

Sam is blushing furiously, but he's letting it all happen. At Dean's direction, he steps under the warm spray of water.

Dean slips off his boxers too, and joins him.

His son is hard and Sam's now staring at his impressive girth, both proud and intrigued ... and suddenly more than a little afraid. It suddenly hits him what he's allowing his son and him to have, if only for a moment. As if sensing his fear, Dean tells him not to think. "Just feel. Right now, we're not mother and son. We're just two people who love each other ... OK? In this moment, we can be together. Please, please ... for me."

They stand under the shower, for a few minutes, mesmerized, both watching each other and almost afraid to touch. Dean can't believe he's having this moment, that he's standing in the shower with his buck naked mom, finally, free to look, at his breasts, his stomach, his groin, his long legs ... his nakedness, his most private parts are his, at least for the moment.

Their feet are immersed in water now, the tub is almost half filled. Dean turns off the spray and tells his mom to just lay back in the water, as he sits at his feet, at the other end of the tub. "Just lay back mom, relax and close your eyes." The water doesn't quite cover Sam's big body, and his breasts and cock, parts of his thighs and his bent knees jut out of the water.

When Sam settles back, Dean takes Sam's right foot into the palms of his hands. He cradles it and begins kneading, massaging it all over and tugging on the toes. As he relaxes even more, trusting, Sam lets his thighs fall open and Dean watches Sam's half-flaccid cock grow before his eyes. Sam is well aware he's being watched, that his nudity is very much being observed and it sends a tingle down his spine and he gets butterflies in his stomach - just from being looked at like this. Dean enjoys the view as he rubs the sole of one foot after the other with his fingers, then he runs his open mouth along Sam's beautiful feet, and lovingly sucks his toes.

When he's done, his mom is fully hard, and leaking precum - and just the act of watching that, his mom getting hot and bothered, being massaged into a hard-on, right under his gaze, was enough to send Dean's blood pooling to his groin, leaving him with a raging hard-on.

He lets Sam's feet go, and slowly crawls into his mom's arms, and lies on top of him, their hard cocks lined up, touching, and their faces inches away from each other. Sam opens his eyes for a moment, his lids lazy and droopy, his mouth pouting, his cheeks flushed and his pupils blown wide, and Dean thinks, "this is it," and starts rubbing his full length against Sam's.

Dean's in heaven. Sam's head falls slightly back, and Dean thinks, this is what his mom looks like when he's in the throes of pleasure. It's not a fantasy, he's not dreaming, he's witnessing it for real. His mom moans sweetly and Dean chooses this moment to lock their lips together, swallow the moan and they kiss opened mouthed as they rut heavily into each other, skin on skin, nothing between them, their cocks hard, heavy and drooling. It takes only an embarrassingly few moments before Dean loses it and he comes all over himself and his mom, the orgasm barreling through him and taking his breath away.

Sam is hot on his heels, his body seizing and his moans drowned by his son's open-mouthed kisses. They continue devouring each other's lips for minutes, then Dean feels something else, like his mommy is getting another orgasm, he can feel the racking vibration travel across his mom's body, who's plastered to his, almost from head to toe (if it weren't for the height difference), and his mom moans again. Dean pulls away, a line of spit connecting his lips to his mom's. "What was that?" he whispers, and his mom is very obviously embarrassed, a serious flush is creeping up his face. He looks away, avoiding eye contact. Dean pulls away a little, looks between them, at their cocks, and it looks like Sam just spilled his seed, from his dick, and it's a full orgasm. A second one. That's impossible for an omega, in his age, unless ...

What? Was the first time ... "Mommy, did you squirt? The first time, was that your asshole?" If possible, Sam turned even redder and one hand came up to cover his face. "Oh dear God," he says, panting like he's been running a marathon. Dean, who's beaming now, can't help asking, "Does this happen a lot? I mean, I know you get wet down there when you're turned on but are you used to orgasming this way, from your butthole?" For a moment it looks like his mom won't answer, just talking about it sends a dark thrill through Dean's body. His mommy squirted, in his arms, like a girl. His cunt gushing out slick. Dean is building up to another orgasm just thinking about what just happened. It's fucking dirty. Imagine how Sam feels.

Finally, Sam shakes his head no. Then confirms it in words, "no. It's, uhm, my first time." Poor Sam looks like he's going to cry. His first time and Dean is proudly responsible for it. He feels like it should be on the news. Sam's shame is turning him on even more.

Dean reaches out, takes Sam's hand away from his face, and into his own, interlacing their fingers together. He waits. When his mom finally opens his eyes, and looks back at him, cheeks beautifully red, Dean smiles, then whispers against Sam's mouth, "One day, I will make you feel so damn good, kiss you all over, touch you, take you apart. But this time, I will sit between your open legs, I will look at your gaping asshole and I'll watch you cum like this." He kisses him hard. "It's a promise, Sammy."

...

Hours later, when the sun has come up, Castiel wakes up to find his bed cold and empty. Huh. Sam must have waken up before him, he thinks and pushes himself out of the bed. The house is quiet, not like it would if Sam had woken up first for an early shower, to feed Adam, or to prepare breakfast down in the kitchen. As he passes by Dean's room, something inside of Cas beckons and he decides to quietly open the door and check on his son.

And there is Sam, locked with Dean in an embrace so tight, you can't tell the young man and his mom apart, where one begins and the other ends, their limbs tangled together and their faces up against each other, their mouths breathing the same air. Like lovers, Cas thinks and he's immediately overcome by a brand of jealousy he rarely ever experiences when it comes to his son's and Sam's relationship.

Yesterday, only yesterday, his wife was distant and burdened, crying through sex and Castiel couldn't comfort him, and now he's lying in his Alpha son's arms like he belongs there, his face restful and blissed out.

Perhaps for the first time, Castiel feels like he's lacking, like he's not enough for Sam, and it makes him feel small, and useless. And somehow Dean has something to do with this, and Cas feels it's more direct than meets the eye. As if, for some reason, Dean is purposely driving them apart. No, it can't be.

But still, their closeness, how they're tied up together, that just can't be normal, Cas thinks. He releases a sigh and he decides to talk to Sam about it - not in passing, not on the sidelines of another argument but for real this time.

He dares to look at them again, holding tight to each other, even in sleep, like they're the last two people on Earth, then he gets out, and shuts Dean's bedroom behind him.

You must put a stopper on this ... thing, Castiel. This unhealthy co-dependencey, he thinks darkly, a lump getting wedged in his throat, his heart already feeling the heaviness of that inevitable conversation with Sam.

Castiel gets ready for work, makes his own breakfast, and as he does, he thinks he knows what he might do about it, for starters. He just hopes his wife won't hate him for it.