Content: In which Dean calls his brother and asks for advice.

x

Author's Note: Have some Sam to brighten your day ;)

And since I'm not sure whether I'd be able to post a new chapter tomorrow because of Christmas Eve and stuff, I'm gonna post the next one tonight! I mean, even if I'll in the end do find some time tomorrow to post something new, one more extra chapter can't hurt, right? ;D

And once again, you're all the best!

x

x

For the next ten minutes Dean walks up and down the spacious room, trying desperately to suppress some kind of anxiety attack.

Castiel Novak.

Castiel. Fucking. Novak.

How the hell could that have happened? What are the odds of them meeting by chance just like that? At Gabriel's wedding, while Dean is pretending to be in a relationship with someone else.

It feels like a really bad rom-com.

And Dean's just right in the middle of it.

Before he really realizes what he's even doing, Dean pulls his phone out of his jacket and dials the number of the one person he could always count on to solve any sort of problem.

And simultaneously the only person who knows about Castiel in the first place.

Sam picks up after the third ring.

"Hey, Dean," he says cheerfully. "How is it going? Feeling all kinds of relationshippy yet?"

Dean rolls his eyes and for a split second he honestly considers climbing into his Baby and driving back home just to punch his stupid brother into his face.

"You're a bitch," Dean hisses. "This isn't funny, man. I've got a serious problem here."

Sam apparently notices the edge in Dean's voice instantly because instead of offering a cocky response he simply asks, "What is it?"

Dean takes a deep breath and reevaluates his options once again. He's not very keen on sharing this special problem with his brother, but on the other hand he simply can't sit this one out and ignore it for all eternity. He has to talk with someone.

And Sam has always been Dean's number one guy.

"Cas is here," he blurts out, figuring that ripping off the band-aid in one go would be less painful than anything else. It would take way too much effort to beat around the bush.

Sam, however, doesn't get it. "Who?"

Dean huffs. "Did you seriously forget?" he asks. "I mean, yeah, okay, I actually told you to forget I ever said anything when I was sober again, but honestly, dude, you can't tell me that … well, that you can't recall that night …"

He bites his bottom lip nervously, squirming like a child pent up by way too much energy.

"Dean, you have to be a bit more specific than this," Sam says. "What night are you speaking of?"

Dean heaves a deep sigh. "At the pub … your graduation …"

He hates how his voice drops to a low whisper at the end, too ashamed of what happened to speak in a normal volume.

Suddenly there is a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Oh, you mean … the night I'm actually not supposed to ever mention again? That night?"

Dean fidgets awkwardly. "Yeah," he mutters.

"That night when you got so drunk you actually poured your heart out right in front of me?" There is no mock in Sam's tone and Dean feels entirely grateful for that. "When you told me about that guy from high school that made you feel all … oh. Oh."

Now the shoe obviously dropped.

And Dean doesn't know if he should be relieved or not. Part of himself just wants to say, "Forget it!" and hang up before Sam would even have the chance to present one of his heartfelt speeches about self-acceptance and courage or whatever shit he's always babbling about, but another part – a very small, yet somehow powerful one – actually is eager to hear what his baby brother has to say.

"My graduation party …" Sam trails off, apparently looking for the right words. "So you were indeed serious about … well, about what you said?"

Dean feels his cheeks burn as he remembers that night. It had begun so good and promising, with just Dean and Sam catching a few beers and celebrating Sam's achievements. But somewhere along the way some shots were drunk as well and Dean lost count of the alcohol flooding his system. And when he at some point later that night noticed two guys in a dark corner gazing into each other's eyes lovingly and eventually starting to make out like the world was ending, the truth spilled out of Dean unconsciously. He almost sniveled into his drink while he slurred about Castiel and his beautiful eyes and how Dean missed his chance …

He doesn't recall everything he confessed that night (thank God for that), but enough to know lines like "it could have been amazing" and "you should have seen his smile" had been spoken.

And Sam … well, although drunk off his ass too, he kept nodding and listening to Dean's rambling with rapt attention, evidently absorbing every tidbit of information like a sponge. And sure, there had been surprise on his features, but honestly not as much as Dean would have anticipated.

"So, this guy ..." Sam sounds all kinds of wary, as if he's approaching a skittish animal. "You really … liked him? Like that?"

Dean scoffs. "I didn't call to talk about my feelings, man."

"Then why did you call?"

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. "Cas. Is. Here."

He emphasizes every single word, hoping that it would finally be drilled into his brother's thick skull.

However, for a while it's silent at the other end of the line. Sam apparently has got a hard time wrapping his head around Dean's statement. But eventually he asks, "Um, here as in –?"

"The wedding!" Dean presses through gritted teeth. "He's the fucking best man, can you believe that? The groom's brother!"

There is a loud intake of breath. "He's seriously there with you?"

"He just showed me to my room," Dean explains. It stills feels so utterly surreal, he's got no clue how to handle this.

"Wow, that's …" Sam laughs awkwardly. "One hell of a coincidence. Or maybe fate?"

Dean grunts. "Don't start with fate, dude."

"Okay, okay, whatever," Sam backpedals immediately. "But still – it's awesome, right? I mean, at the pub you told me that you always regretted how you let him slip through your fingers. You actually cried, man!"

Dean winces. Oh dammit …

"I did not," he disagrees, though he can't remember exactly if that's true or not. He had been rather emotional after the fourth tequila, so it indeed might be a possibility.

"I saw a few tears," Sam states, sounding like he's enjoying this way too much. "I even took a picture. I can send it to you if you want."

Dean pulls a face. "No, bitch, I don't want any pictures!" he hisses. "I actually don't even know why I called you at all –"

"No, no, don't hang up on me!" Sam hastily jumps in. "I didn't mean it like that, okay? I'm sorry."

Dean can almost picture him rising his hands in defeat and using his powerful puppy dog eyes to calm his brother's boiling emotions. It would probably even work over the phone if Sam tried hard enough.

"I'm actually really glad you're telling me this," Sam confesses, his voice suddenly unusually warm.

"You are?"

"Yeah, I mean, I had no idea, you know?" Sam explains. "That night at the pub … you were drunk, Dean. Really fucking wasted." He inhales deeply. "And when you're like that, you normally talk bullshit."

Dean can't help his scoff. "I do not!" he insists.

"You do too," Sam disagrees. "One time you spent twenty minutes telling me about the purple elephant that lived inside your fridge. You wanna tell me that's not been bullshit?"

"Um ..." Dean grimaces. He can't remember that specific incident, but he knows himself well enough not to deny this ever happened.

"So what did you expect me to believe?" Sam asks, snorting. "When you told me about this Cas guy, I figured the whole thing was just some weird shit your mind made up on its own. That you perhaps watched some Brokeback Mountain or Philadelphia just right before and got all emotional about it after a bunch of drinks."

It sounds like a reasonable thought. Dean would probably have believed the same if their roles would have been reversed.

"Well … it wasn't bullshit," Dean mutters reluctantly, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"Yeah, I'm getting that now," Sam answers, sounding calm and patient instead of teasing like Dean would have expected. "And like I said, I'm really happy you're telling me this. It's a big step –"

"Oh, fuck you, if you're starting to coo that you're proud of me, I'm gonna hang up immediately, you hear me?" Dean cuts in vigorously. "I didn't call to talk about … about that, okay? I just need someone to give me some advice and … well, you're not so bad in that department. Occasionally, at least."

Sam snorts. "Thank you for the ringing endorsement. I'm flattered."

"Don't get used to it, okay?"

Sam obviously chooses to ignore their banter in favor of asking, "So, how was it? Meeting him again?"

Dean bites his bottom lip, realizing that he's got no freaking clue how to describe it. "Um …"

"Was it awkward?" Sam asks.

"Well, everything with Castiel is awkward by default." Dean can't help his fond smile. "Back then he had no idea how to interact with people and obviously that didn't change. He's still this dorky weirdo."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he stands too close, he stares like all the freaking time, he just says what's on his mind." There is a warmth spreading inside his chest when he thinks about these quirks which make Castiel so special. "Sometimes I think he's got no clue how society and humans in general even work."

"Huh," Sam says.

"What?"

"It's just … he doesn't really sound like your usual type."

Dean can't argue with him on that front. He's still absolutely puzzled by the fact that he developed this huge crush on a guy who couldn't even hold a brief conversation without making it very fucking uncomfortable.

It's a freaking mystery.

Admittedly, back in high school he blamed his teenager hormones just going crazy and figured it would pass eventually, but that honestly didn't explain his inability to forget about Castiel and his quirkiness even years later or the fact that he just acted like a bumbling idiot merely minutes ago.

There is just something about Castiel that settled deep underneath Dean's skin, more than eager to never go away ever.

"Just tell me what to do!" Dean urges. "I'm not prepared for this!"

"No one would be prepared for something like this," Sam argues. "If Sandra Whittaker from my freshman year would suddenly appear right in front of me, I'd probably get a frigging heart attack. Or melt into some unrecognizable goo."

Dean vaguely remembers his little brother's first real crush, including flushing and stammering and walking into door frames. It'd been kinda hilarious to watch back then, but the thought of their roles reversed right now isn't seriously that entertaining anymore.

"Okay, first thing first," Sam says. "Are there still some … tingling feelings?"

Dean snorts. "Tingling feelings? Are you freaking serious?"

"I just wanna determine what I'm dealing with here," Sam defends himself. "Because apart from that one night when you cried into your drink I've never heard of the guy. You never mentioned him to me, before or after that incident. Not even in fleeting. So I've got no clue –" He sighs deeply. "Crushes are usually temporary infatuations. Sometimes quite powerful, I'll give you that, but it's not long-term or anything. So if you're saying you had a mighty crush on the guy back then and now, after seeing him fifteen years later, there is nothing left beside some, I dunno, embarrassment or whatever because of your teenage feelings, I'd just suggest to suck it up and get over it!"

Sounds rather simple. But Dean is quite aware that this is not his problem. Not by a long shot.

"However, if there is something more, something deeper," Sam continues, sounding kinda wary all of a sudden, "well, a different approach would be necessary."

Dean starts to squirm. He steps at the window and looks outside, his treacherous heart hoping that he would spot Castiel somewhere down there next to that fancy-ass pond, maybe feeding some ducks or doing some difficult math equations or reciting a poem because that seems to be the kind of guy Castiel still is and Dean wouldn't have been surprised to witness any of this right now.

"Um," he says eloquently after it had been silent for a while, Sam obviously happy to give his brother all the time he needs to figure things out.

And Dean once again feels the urge to downplay the whole thing. To claim that it indeed had been nothing more than a superficial crush and that he's only freaking out because he feels humiliated interacting with the guy now. It would be easy enough and yeah, perhaps Sam would instantly start to question his sincerity, but Dean dealt with a suspicious brother before.

But on the other hand …

"I … I dunno, man," Dean eventually answers, sighing. "I mean, I actually don't really know him. In high school we talked one time for more than a few minutes. And yeah, sure, I noticed a lot of mannerisms and stuff by – uh, by observing, but still …" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't even have a clue that his brother's family is obviously so fucking loaded that the driveway's got his own address as well, for one thing! And there are most likely a million other things I don't know about him either. Likes, dislikes, the way he takes his coffee – stuff like that. So I can't really tell you how I'm, well, feeling about the guy or whatever …"

"Then you should change that," Sam urges. "Get to know him this time. And maybe by the end of the weekend you'll be wiser about your own feelings. It's worth a shot, don't you think?"

Castiel is way more worth than a single shot, but Dean honestly gets the point.

"At least you might get a friend out of this, but perhaps even more," Sam continues. "Just try it, dude. Get to know him. And let him get to know you, too."

At that Dean can't help but scoff. "Oh yes, Dean Winchester, single father, mechanic, awesome older brother and devoted boyfriend of Jo Harvelle."

Sam inhales sharply and Dean hears a noise from his end that sounds suspiciously like a forehead being slapped. "Ah shit, I totally forgot about that."

Well, Dean hasn't. It's more or less the only thing he can think about since he laid eyes on Castiel.

"I don't know what to do, man," he groans. "I mean, when I agreed to this, I thought I'd lie to a bunch of strangers I'd never see again. But Cas?"

Dean is honestly not sure whether he would be capable of doing that. To watch into those ridiculously blue eyes and tell some fairy tales about his wonderful girlfriend. It seems impossible.

"Maybe I should just go," Dean says. "Feign some illness or whatever. Emma won't be happy about it, but I hope her dad's health is more important to her than some horses."

"Dude, she's gonna see right through that," Sam counters immediately. "She knows you better than you think. She won't believe you for even a second."

Unfortunately Dean has to agree with that statement. Emma may be only five years old ("Just for two more months, Daddy!"), but she's already quite observant, especially when her father is concerned. Usually it's the other way around – parents having the ability to sniff out the lies their children are trying to sell them –, but with the two of them it's been this way for a while now. Dean doesn't even wanna know how that might turn out when she'll become a teenager. Or, God forbid, an adult.

"I can't tell you what to do, dude," Sam says, sounding honestly apologetic. "It's a crazy situation. I mean, you could always tell him the truth – Jo's friend, the bride, knows it as well, am I right? – and ask him to be quiet about it to all the other guests, but putting myself in Castiel's shoes … I don't know, if some former classmate I actually didn't really know back then would suddenly approach me and beg me to lie for him to my friends and family, I wouldn't feel very comfortable with that. Not at all."

Dean can't argue with that. For Castiel the majority of the wedding party are probably not some random strangers he won't ever see again but people he knows and for some instances most likely cares about. Dean can't ask that Castiel should lie to his brother and the rest of his family. That would be the shittiest thing ever.

"I think you should just try to make the best of it," Sam offers eventually. "Try to get to know him. Use your special Winchester charm. And perhaps he won't even be mad after the wedding is over and he might learn the truth. You're doing this for a good friend after all."

Yeah, Dean is trying to tell himself as well and for the most part it actually worked fine so far. But with Castiel in the picture now …

However, on the other hand it's seriously ridiculous to get ahead of himself. For all he knows, Castiel could be married or at least in a relationship (and God, Dean honestly doesn't wanna picture that!) because he's just wonderful and every single person on this freaking planet would be lucky to have him, and maybe apart from a few pleasant conversations nothing might come out of this for Dean. He's got no idea if Castiel would be even interested in getting to know Dean better. He wouldn't be the first to just walk away and never look back as soon as the situation allows it.

And Dean had been rather crappy toward him in high school. He's not sure he even deserves to become more than a mere acquaintance.

"I know what you're thinking," Sam pipes in suddenly. "You're telling yourself you're not good enough, again!"

Dean sighs. "Sammy –"

"No, you should seriously stop this!" Sam cuts in, sounding tense now. "Every time I watch you struggling like that, I wanna drive over to Dad's place and punch him in the face for putting these thoughts inside your head when you were just a kid." He takes a deep breath, most likely convincing himself not to get violent toward their father, although he desperately wants to. "You're awesome, Dean! You always have been. And I sincerely hope that someday you're able to see that, too."

For a minute Dean doesn't know what to say – he never does when Sam gets serious like this – and in the end he settles on a mumbled, "I'll keep you up to date, bye!" since he doesn't have the energy at all to talk about his bad childhood as well.

Deep down Dean knows that his little brother is right.

He might not be the brightest crayon in the box and his job isn't the most glorious, but he's a good guy and deserves some nice things in his life.

Emma is one of them. The best, actually.

When she came into his life, Dean started to believe for the first time ever that someone up in Heaven apparently liked him enough for giving him such a beautiful gift.

And Castiel … well, he might become something good for Dean, too.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

At least if that mess with Jo wouldn't stand in their ways …

Damn, that girl owes him big time for all the trouble she's causing Dean these days.

BIG TIME.