My 190-Pound Life

by crazyassCas

12 years ago, Dean underwent a life-changing surgery that completely turned his life around. He's stuck to the lifestyle changes, and he never thought he'd get this far. When he meets Cas, a chubby stoner in his mid-twenties, everything is perfect. But when Cas' lifestyle choices threaten everything Dean's worked so hard to achieve, he's faced with a difficult decision. Rating: MA

4. Chapter 4

TRIGGER WARNING: brief mention of suicide and non-con
Aside from those warnings, parts of this chapter are pretty fucked up.

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long... But with work, and GISHWHES, and other life stuff, et cetera, I just hadn't been able to get around to it. I think I've also figured out why I've been so hesitant to post this chapter. I'm a bigger person myself, and although my situation is/was nothing like Dean's (at my largest I was about 125 pounds overweight), a lot of what I had to write here was just too damn relatable, and I think that can be said for anyone who has body image issues. I feel like there's this pressure on overweight people to act like it doesn't bother them, like they just love food and don't care (read: Cas), because if they vocalize a desire to change, then don't lose weight, it's seen as failure. So talking about this thing is sort of taboo, and I think a lot of people don't want to do it until after they've started losing weight and prove to themselves (and others) that they can do it. I think the majority of us would like to lose weight (even if extra weight may be something we are still attracted to in others), and it's hard admitting we don't actually have any control over ourselves. I believe food addiction is a way bigger problem then anyone really thinks it is, and no one fucking talks about it! We feel judged enough eating in public, or in any company, so why draw attention to the fact that we have poor self-control... It will only draw more attention to the amount we eat and make us feel worse about eating in front of anyone who knows we're struggling. So while my writing is still anonymous and these feelings are coming out through characters, they're still very much real and I think it's embarrassing. I feel like I'm opening up something about myself. So I guess that's why it's taken me so long to upload this. Anyway, hope you like it, as I've certainly kept you subscribers waiting long enough. *heart*

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Taking a deep breath, Dean slowly stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. He stood awkwardly on the blacktop, thinking that his lawn could use a trim, as he waited for Cas to get out of the newly repaired Lincoln. When Cas approached him, Dean offered a tight smile and turned to head for the door before Cas could get close enough to actually say anything. As soon as he turned the handle and pushed it open, Floyd bounded over the threshold, sparing Dean only a passing glance as he made a bee-line towards Cas. He launched himself up, hitting Cas pretty hard in the stomach with his front paws, but Cas didn't seem to mind, reaching up to rub his ears as he leaned forward to let Floyd lick his face.

"Hey Floyd," Cas murmured, his voice lifting slightly as he rubbed the scruff on Floyd's neck. It didn't escape Dean's notice, though, that he still sounded sad.

He stepped into the house and let out a short whistle, and Floyd turned to follow him. Cas was the last one in, and Dean closed the door and motioned towards the couch.

"Um, you can sit down. I just gotta take Floyd out."

He paced back and forth on the patio as Floyd pooped, going over in his head what he was going to say, oblivious to the odd look his dog was giving him. As he closed the sliding door behind him and Floyd trotted towards the water bowl, a knock on the door nearly had Dean jumping out of his skin. Floyd immediately changed course, running for the front door and letting out a few loud barks. Dean shushed him as he followed and answered the door, feeling like Cas was watching him the entire time. He wouldn't know, though, since he kept his eyes straight ahead. He paid for the pizza, tipped the delivery guy, and headed towards the couch, Floyd at his heels and staring intently at the cardboard box in a death-grip in Dean's hands.

Cas, who had been leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and staring down at his interlaced fingers, looked up as he saw Dean's feet approaching.

"Here," Dean said quickly, setting the box on the coffee table in front of Cas him. "Eat."

Cas raised one eyebrow, straightening up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just..." Dean started, glancing over at him. "...Nervous." He looked away as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you want to smoke first?" Cas offered, holding up a bag of weed and pack of rolling papers that Dean hadn't realized he'd brought inside.

"Uh... yes," Dean said with a nod. "...Thank you." He rounded the coffee table and lowered himself down onto the couch next to Cas, although he wasn't relaxed; instead of sinking back into the cushions, he perched tensely on the edge of the seat, watching Cas roll the joint on top of the pizza box.

Cas licked along the length, sealed it, and sparked it up, inhaling a large drag and holding it in before passing the joint off to Dean. They took about three long pulls each, burning down half of the joint in silence, and Dean actually felt himself relaxing until Cas exhaled a tired-sounding sigh.

"Sooo..." he pushed out awkwardly, "You said you wanted to explain...?" He kept his eyes trained on the joint, rolling it between his fingers.

Dean looked over at him. As his high had crept in, he'd almost forgotten what he had to do. He'd almost been able to pretend everything was the way it was before- he and Cas hanging out, smoking weed on his couch and eating pizza. But things weren't the way they were before, and if he didn't open up and explain everything, Cas wasn't going to stay.

He looked away again. "Cas, I..." He shifted in his seat, turning to face Cas better and fiddling with his hands in his lap. He glanced up, and Cas was watching him with a confused expression. "I gained fifteen pounds hanging out with you," he blurted out. Fuck. Probably not the best way to start this conversation.

"Oh," Cas said softly, eyes lowering again to the joint burning between his fingers.

"And I know it sounds really shallow, but it scared me, Cas."

"Why?" Cas asked, looking back up at Dean again. "Is it really that big of a deal? I mean... it's not like I did it on purpose."

"No- I'm definitely not saying you did," Dean said quickly. He paused, then sighed. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but... it is. A big deal. For me." He paused again, trying to figure out how to explain himself. "Remember how I told you I used to be... uh..." He swallowed. "Bigger?"

Cas looked at him curiously. "Yeah."

Dean looked away again. "It wasn't quite that... simple."

Cas tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Dean lowered his face into his hands so he wouldn't have to see Cas' face. "I was, like, huge."

"That's subjective."

"Could've-been-on-TV big," he mumbled through his hands.

Cas' eyes widened. "Wait, wait... like... six-hundred pounds?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

"Well, uh... five-ninety, but yeah," Dean mumbled, lifting his head from his hands but still not looking at Cas. "But I swear it wasn't like what you see on TV. God, I wasn't that bad," he said quickly, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, although Cas didn't seem disgusted in the slightest. At least, he didn't think so; he still hadn't looked at his face. "I'm six-foot-one. I wasn't fucking incapable of taking care of myself. But I just..." He closed his eyes and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Didn't go anywhere. I didn't see the point... all anybody did was stare. So I, y'know... stayed home a lot."

"I... wow," Cas said quietly. "I never would've guessed."

"Yeah," Dean breathed. A good ten seconds stretched on in silence, and Dean was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He crossed his arms and leaned forward, curling in on himself a bit as the silence became suffocating.

"When did you lose the weight?" Cas finally asked.

"I had surgery twelve years ago, when I was twenty-two," Dean said, a bit disconnected. "It took me two years, but... I lost all of it."

"That's awesome," Cas said earnestly. "I know the long-term success rate is-"

"Less than five percent," Dean finished for him, his eyes finally flicking over to him for the first time since he'd spilled his secret. It was brief, though, and he immediately returned his gaze to the leg of the coffee table he'd been intently staring at. "Yeah. Which is why I have to be so strict with myself." He closed his eyes. "But food still runs my life. And it always will. I have a food addiction, Cas, and it will always be that way. Some people drink, other people do drugs, I ate. Whenever I felt like shit, or I hated myself or my life, that's what I turned to."

Cas didn't want to take this moment of confession away from Dean, so he didn't say so, but he could definitely relate to that. Although, he also drank and smoked (both weed and cigarettes), so his vices were at least spread across a few different things. And since he'd started drinking when he was sixteen, the overeating had just become more habit than anything else. Maybe he couldn't really relate quite as much as he thought he could, but-

"So when you came into my life," Dean continued, and Cas blinked and re-focused on him, "I started slipping. It was hard seeing you eat whatever you wanted, and you were always offering to share, or just getting something for both of us, and we were getting stoned all the time and doing nothing but hanging out on the couch or driving. And it's not that once in a while will do anything. But the more I eat crap like that, the more I fucking want it. When I got on the scale and saw that I put on fifteen pounds in three months, I nearly had a heart attack." He looked at Cas, finally holding his gaze. "I got scared, Cas."

Cas frowned. Looking into Dean's eyes, he saw nothing there but shame and fear, and it broke his heart. "Dean... I had no idea. If you'd just told me, I would have been much more conscious about what I ate around you."

"I know," Dean admitted, looking down. "And I'm sorry. But... I'm tired of everybody knowing. It's- it's disgusting. And embarrassing. I just wanted to feel fucking normal for once. But that's obviously never going to happen." He paused, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry I put you through all this bullshit."

"It's okay," Cas said quietly. "I understand now why you pushed me away."

Dean lowered his head. "I hope you believe me now when I said that it wasn't your fault."

Cas nodded. "Yeah." Except... it kind of was his fault. He was the one tempting Dean, poisoning him with his bad habits after Dean had done so well for years before he came around. He looked down at the joint, and it had gone out, so he stood up. "I get it."

Dean's head snapped up. "Where are you going?"

Cas looked towards the door. "I thought you just wanted to explain."

"I... I did," Dean said softly. "But I was hoping... I was hoping you'd give me another chance." He paused, worried that exactly what he was afraid of was playing out right in front of him. "But I get it if... if you don't want to."

Cas sighed, his shoulders drooping, and then he turned around to look at Dean. "Of course I do. But do you really want to? After what you just told me? I don't want to negate all of your hard work." The last sentence came out sounding snippy even to his own ears, and he hoped it didn't sound the same to Dean, because he was being sincere. He would never forgive himself if he ruined everything Dean had worked so hard for just because Cas couldn't control himself.

Dean reached out one hand, grabbing Cas' wrist lightly. "C'mere."

Cas allowed Dean to pull him towards him as Dean took his other hand, spreading his legs so Cas could stand between them.

"Yes. I've been fucking miserable without you, Cas," he said, looking up at him. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Cas said softly, keeping his eyes on their hands. "But... I don't want to tempt you."

"Forget about it, Cas, alright? It's my own problem to deal with. I just have to be conscious of it. I thought I had myself under control before, but I didn't."

Cas' eyebrows pressed together in concern as he stared down at Dean. "I want you to think about what you're saying right now, but with alcohol."

"It's different, Cas. I still have to eat. I can't live off air."

"Which makes it even harder. At least an alcoholic can, for the most part, avoid alcohol in their day-to-day lives."

"Cas, if you don't want to take me back... just tell me and get it over with," Dean muttered, looking away. "...Please."

"No," Cas said quickly, and Dean lifted his eyes again to meet his. "I just... I want you to be happy, Dean, and if you start gaining again you clearly won't be."

Dean stared at him for a moment, processing what he'd said, and then he blinked and squeezed Cas' hands. "You make me happy, Cas. That's all that matters to me. I'll make it work. If I have to leave the room when you eat junk, I will. If I need to go to the gym four times a week to keep the weight off, I will. I don't care. But I need you in my life, Cas."

Cas lips turned up into a soft smile. "Okay."

"Thank god," Dean sighed. He let go of Cas' hands to place his palms on his thighs, sliding them up until they rested on his hips. He then leaned forward to rest the side of his face on Cas' stomach. His stubble caught on the fabric of Cas' shirt, and as he took a deep inhale, enjoying the smell of Cas, a hand came up and landed on his head.

"Dean... stop."

Dean pulled his head back and looked up. "Shit. I'm sorry," he said quickly, pulling his hands away. "I get if you don't want me to touch you yet."

"No, that- that's not it at all," Cas mumbled, looking away.

Dean gave him an odd look, before realization overtook his features. "Don't you remember what I said?" he asked, placing his hands on Cas' hips again.

Cas scoffed, staring off across the room to avoid looking at Dean. "Yeah, six months ago. I'm not blind, Dean. I know I've put on weight since then."

"So?" Dean questioned, bringing his hands forward to rest them on the sides of Cas' stomach.

A muscle twitched in Cas' jaw, and then he closed his eyes and Dean could almost see the thought process as he told himself that he was drawing even more attention to his "flaw" by making a big deal over it- something Dean had told himself many times before. Cas opened his eyes again, and that's when Dean noticed just how much his jeans were digging into his hips. He tried to wriggle one finger in, to no avail.

"How are these comfortable?"

"They're not," Cas admitted, looking down at Dean again, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

"Why don't you buy new ones?"

"I don't really have much money leftover after I pay bills," he said weakly. "Well... aside from the copious amount of money I spend on fast food. But if I could stop doing that, I wouldn't be in this predicament, so..."

Dean frowned. "I know your mom's not the nicest person, but... you couldn't ask to short her on rent for a month to get some new clothes?"

Cas scoffed, looking away again. "Absolutely not. She comments about my weight every chance she gets. She actually already said something about it last week." He frowned, raising his voice an octave to imitate his mother. "And if you think I'm buying you new clothes, you're got another thing coming, Castiel. You need to learn to resist temptation. Gluttony is a sin."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "That's fucking ridiculous. So she's just making you walk around like this?"

Cas gave a small nod, and Dean felt anger coiling in his stomach. Cas' mom was trying to shame him into losing weight, and he knew first-hand that that never worked. His dad had tried the same thing- making offhanded comments about Dean's weight and what he ate throughout middle school, and it had only served to make him feel worse and eat more.

"We're going to get you new clothes," he decided. "Today."

"That's okay," Cas said quickly. "Really."

Dean shook his head. "No. We're going."

"No," Cas said sternly, and Dean's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Why not?"

"Because then I really won't lose any weight, and... I kind of have to... if I want to be with you."

"Cas," Dean sighed, letting his hands fall away from Cas' hips. "I appreciate that, but it's not about the weight or the way you look. It's just about your eating habits. And I don't think it's fair to ask you to change. I... I just need to control myself. I'm my own responsibility. I thought we just talked about this."

Cas sighed. "I know, but..." He looked down at himself, and Dean's eyes traveled to his stomach as Cas took it in his hands. "It's time. I'm not getting any younger. I think it's about time I maybe gave a little bit of a shit about my health. I can't go on doing whatever the hell I want if I want to live past forty."

Dean swallowed, looking back up at his face. "If you're serious... I can help you."

Cas smiled weakly, letting his hands fall away from his stomach to hang limply at his sides. "That would be nice." Encouragement and instruction would help a hell of a lot more than his mother's snide comments and complete lack of actual helpfulness.

"I can tell you from experience that it's going to be hard not to take anything I say personally, but please try not to, okay?"

Cas nodded.

"My first bit of advice is to slow down when you eat. You inhale your food, and you're not giving your stomach enough time to tell your brain you're full."

Cas nodded again.

Dean took his wrist again and tugged him down onto the couch next to him. "Start with the pizza. Slow."

Cas frowned in confusion. "We really just had this whole discussion and you're telling me to eat pizza?"

Dean returned his frown. "I know, Cas, but I already ordered it. We'll start tomorrow, okay? I'll help you eat the pizza. We'll share some leftovers with Floyd and throw out anything that's left. Or we can start Monday. Whatever you want."

Cas nodded slowly, then leaned forward to pop open the box.

"I'll be right back." Dean stood up and disappeared into the hallway, and when he returned he was holding a pair of pajama pants. "Put these on."

Cas gave him a grateful look, leaning back to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his jeans. He shimmied them off and took the pajama pants from Dean, pulling them up. "Thank you."

Dean sat down next to him, leaning forward and grabbing himself a slice. He took a small bite off of the end, watching Cas as he attempted to eat slowly.

"Cas?" Cas turned to him, chewing slowly. "You should move in with me."

Cas' eyes widened, and he swallowed what was in his mouth. "W- are you serious...?"

"Yes. I don't like the way your mom treats you."

Cas frowned. "You don't have to rescue me, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "It's not that. I wanted to ask for a long time, but I thought it would be moving too fast and you wouldn't want to... But I don't ever want to be away from you, Cas." He stared down at the pizza in his hand. "These last few months were fucking horrible."

"Yeah," Cas said softly, looking down at his own half-eaten slice.

"I'm really sorry," Dean said, looking at Cas sheepishly.

"I know," Cas responded. "I forgive you."

"Are you sure? You don't have a head injury, right?" Dean said, a bit of teasing in his voice.

Cas smiled. "No, I don't. I'm sure."

"Thank you." He paused, watching Cas take another small bite of his pizza. "So... will you?"

Cas chewed slowly, staring thoughtfully at the blank TV across the room. Then he swallowed and gave a small nod. "Yes."

Dean's face lit up, and Cas smiled back. "Awesome. When can we go get your stuff?"

Cas' face fell suddenly, and he set his unfinished slice of pizza down on top of the box. "My mother will be very unhappy," he said quietly, lightly brushing the crumbs from his fingers.

"Why?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't she be happy you're moving out?"

"No. Because then she can't control me anymore." He paused. "That's all it's ever been about, really."

Dean wasn't really sure what to say. "Well... I'll be there. What's the worst she can do?"

"Say some very nasty things," Cas said quietly, looking away from Dean. "Especially since you're male."

Dean shrugged. "She'll get over it."

Cas laughed sadly. "Yeah," he agreed halfheartedly. "I've still got some time off after the accident. They gave me ten days."

"I get out at one tomorrow. Do you want to go after?"

"Okay."

They finished eating in silence, and when Cas finished his last slice, he turned to Dean. "Do you have any pictures?"

"Of what?"

"Before your surgery."

Dean looked away, his eyes catching a small grease stain he'd left on his jeans when he'd wiped his hands. "Yes."

"...Can I see?"

Dean bit his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it nervously before suddenly letting it pop back out and standing up. "Yeah." He strode off into the hallway, returning momentarily with a shoe box. As he sat back down on the couch, he twisted his body so that he was facing Cas and could look at the pictures without him seeing them over his shoulder. He took the lid off and began thumbing through the photographs.

"You can work your way up," he said. He pulled out a Polaroid and flipped it over, and 1988 was written on the back in black pen. "This was when I was five." He handed it over to Cas.

Cas looked down at the photo. A blonde woman was holding Dean on her hip, the background a blurry forest. Aside from being a bit chubby in the cheeks, Dean looked fairly normal. Freckles were already appearing on his face, accentuated by the afternoon sun pouring down from behind the cameraman.

"That was when it started," Dean said. "The year before, my brother was born, stillborn, and my mom took it really hard. She started spoiling the shit out of me." He rifled through the box again, and pulled out another photo.

"So your mom was your enabler?"

"Yep," Dean said with a nod. "Definitely." He handed the second photo over, one of him and his dad. Dean was standing at the edge of a lake, holding up a fish on a line. "I was eight there. Already bigger than anyone else my age. That I knew, at least," he added, rifling through the box again. "Although I guess that's not saying much at that age. But when you get to high school and you're the biggest kid in school..."

He trailed off, and Cas looked up to see him staring at another photograph, his hands shaking slightly.

"Dean, you don't have to-"

"It's fine," Dean said quickly, eyes still locked on the photogaph. "I just... I didn't think this would effect me this much." He huffed a small laugh, sounding almost hysterical. "I think it's the weed. I know it's supposed to help, but I think it's intensifying it." He swallowed audibly. "God, this is so fucking embarrassing." He finally tore his eyes away from the photo and handed it over. "Fifteen."

Cas looked down at the photo. Dean had his arm around the shoulders of a scrawny red-headed girl wearing a party hat. She was smiling widely into the camera, and while Dean was smiling as well, it was small. He'd definitely put on a significant amount of weight in the seven years since the last photo.

"Is that Charlie?" Cas flipped it over, and 1998 - Charlie's 14th bday was written on the back.

"Yep."

"I didn't know you two have known each other for that long."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Charlie's been there through some shit, believe me. She's like my sister."

Cas nodded as Dean handed over another photo with a heavy sigh. "Seventeen. That's when I dropped out junior year because I couldn't fit in the goddamn desks. 'Cause, um, as you can see, I mostly pack it on in my stomach."

Cas looked at the photo for a long time. Dean was in the passenger seat of the Impala, and the photo was obviously taken by the driver. He was giving the camera a thumbs up, all of his teeth revealed as his lips stretched into a wide grin. "That was when my dad first got her," he said, peering over at the photo in Cas' hands. "He gave her to me once I dropped the weight and got my license. He was so damn proud of me, and it was weird, because he'd never been proud of me before in my life." He paused and went back to rifling through the box. "At least, he'd never said so."

The next photo he handed over without even looking at it. "Ugh. Eighteen. Charlie took that one. The next day I had a doctor's appointment and found out I was four-fifty. My parents got into a huge fight over it," he said, shaking his head. "Not a good day. I refused to go to the doctor after that. Not my smartest decision, but I was stubborn."

In the photo, Dean was sitting on a bed in what Cas assumed was his room, a video game controller in one hand, the other held up and flipping off the person holding the camera. The walls were covered in a patchwork of movie and band posters. Cas flipped it over, and 2001 - 450 was written on the back. He flipped it back over, pulling his eyes away when he heard Dean sigh beside him.

"This was my twentieth birthday. 2003. Like I said, I refused to go to the doctor, but I'm pretty sure I was five hundred here." He paused, staring down at the photo, his mouth twisting into a disgusted frown. "God, I was fucking miserable. All I could think was 'Is this going to be the rest of my life?'" He shook his head and passed the photo over to Cas.

Cas frowned down at it. Dean certainly did look miserable.

"That's when I pretty much just stopped caring," Dean mumbled, staring at the photo in Cas' hands. "And, like, when it gets to a point where the only thing you do is walk back and forth in your house all day, it's not like you have to keep increasing your calories to keep packing it on. It just happens. Like, in the end I was probably eating the same amount as I was when I was five-hundred, but six months after I turned twenty-one, my mom finally dragged my fat ass to the doctor and I was five-ninety. ...Had a couple'a health problems already."

He handed Cas another photo. In it, Dean was standing in the center of the room, staring straight at the camera.

"I mean, I guess nothing serious, but I was pre-diabetic because I ate a fuck ton of sugar and carbs, and my knees hurt really bad. Had a lot of trouble sleeping. If I didn't do something about it, it would've gotten serious. ...Oh, and since it mostly went to my stomach, my lower back hurt so damn bad."

"I seem to have the same problem," Cas said flatly, glancing down at himself.

They sat in silence for a moment, Dean leaning over to stare at the photo.

"They said if I lost fifty pounds on my own over three months to show I was serious, they would do the surgery. So that's the before picture my mom insisted on taking. That was 2005, right after my twenty-second birthday."

"And you lost the fifty?" Cas asked, staring at the photo in his hands. He briefly wondered if Dean's bow legs were caused by growing up with so much extra weight on his frame, or if they were simply genetic.

"I only lost forty-five," he said quietly. "But they did the surgery anyway. I think my mom tried to sabotage me a bit, and I think the doctor knew that."

Cas looked up to meet his eyes."Why would she do that?"

Dean sighed. "I dunno. She was scared, I guess. The surgery's dangerous. But I didn't care. I was gonna die anyway if I didn't do it. And what I had was no life anyway." He paused. "And I think she was just, like, obsessed with mothering me, and losing the weight meant that I'd become independent and move out. I don't think she realized what she was doing, but I think subconsciously that was why." Dean looked away for a moment, and then he laughed bitterly. "I remember one time I was in the hospital- this was way after the surgery- and she kept asking me if I was hungry, if they were feeding me enough. I had to tell her I was fine like five times. Finally I told her I could use some more pain medication, and she left to find a nurse, and I cried remembering all the times as a kid she made me finish my plate when I wasn't hungry, and as a teenager when she'd make me like five meals a day, and I got so fucking mad at her for setting me up for failure. ...I really resented her for a while for that."

"That's..." Cas cleared his throat. "That's really fucked up."

Dean shrugged. "I know. But that was a long time ago. I definitely can't place all the blame on her. Lots of therapy since then. For both of us."

"I... can't believe this is you," Cas said quietly, turning his attention back to the picture in his hand.

"I know, right?" Dean said. "It's fucking gross."

"It's not gross," Cas said. "It's just... sad. It seems like you missed out on a lot of your teenage years."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

"You know what's weird?"

"What?"

"For some reason I always imagined you as this super hot popular kid in high school. Maybe a jock or something. Life of the party, getting laid."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Yeah, no. I was a fuckin' joke, Cas. I had the trifecta."

Cas raised one eyebrow. "The trifecta?"

"Yeah man. I was a nerd, I was fat, and I was gay. Like, sometimes you can get away with two, if you're funny, but not three."

"But you're bi."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude. We're talking high school in Texas in the nineties. They didn't see a difference. If you didn't recoil and vomit at the sight of another dude's dick, you were gay."

"How'd they find out?"

Dean frowned. "Um... Well. Alright, this is really fucking embarrassing but it was like sixth grade so give me a break." He exhaled an exaggerated sigh. "We were at lunch and I was at the far end of a table, alone. The kids at the other end were playing 'would you rather'. I wasn't really paying attention, but one of them called my name and asked me if I'd rather eat dog shit or kiss a guy. And I wasn't stupid, I knew how people felt about it, but no way was I going to say I'd eat fucking dog shit, because for one, it's gross, and two, I figured they'd turn it into some kind of fat joke. It seemed like an obvious answer. So I said 'Kiss a guy, I guess?' ...The dude who asked me burst out laughing and the guy across from him was like, 'Holy shit, Winchester's a queer!' and the first guy yells, 'You know he must really want to do it if he'd choose it over eating something!' ...And then they laughed even harder. And I didn't say anything else, I just shut my mouth, because there is literally no winning in that situation. If I'd said dog shit, it would've been a fat joke. Anyway... then they took my silence as proof. So."

"Wow," Cas said softly. "That's horrible."

"That was nothing," Dean said with a soft laugh. "But, uh, anyway..." He stared down at the photo in Cas' hands, chewing on his lip. "...You wanna know something else?"

Cas looked at him expectantly.

"I didn't get laid until I was twenty-five."

"No way," Cas said. "Why?" He was pretty sure if he'd been in a similar situation, as soon as he'd lost the weight, he'd find the first stranger he could just to see what it felt like.

"Well... even after I lost the weight, I still thought I was pretty gross. Still do, sometimes." He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I've just always been ashamed of myself, I guess. Never really had a lot of confidence." He paused. "I know it doesn't seem that way. I try to fake it. I feel like I just come off as cocky though." He pursed his lips. "Feels weird to say all that out loud."

Cas raised one eyebrow. "Dean, you look great now. I'm serious. ...And you're not cocky."

Dean smiled sadly. "You still haven't seen me without a shirt on."

Cas frowned. "You're right, I haven't. ...Can I?"

"Later," Dean said. "But for now, give me those." He motioned for Cas to hand him the photos back. Cas passed them over, and Dean shoved them back into the box. "You wanna see the ones of my progress?"

"Yes," Cas said quickly, moving a little closer on the couch.

Dean flipped through more photos before pulling one out. "This was six months after my surgery. Summer of 2005. I'd lost forty-five to get the surgery, and in the next six months I dropped another hundred."

"Holy shit," Cas breathed.

"Yeah. That'll happen when they staple your stomach and remove half of your intestines. So, I was around four-fifty here."

Cas leaned over to look at the photo in Dean's hands. "You look happy."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I was. Really happy." He put it back in the box and searched for another one. "This was another six months later. Right after I turned twenty-three. I'd only lost another eighty, but I was below four hundred for the first time since, shit, I dunno, probably seventeen. So they agreed to do my first skin removal surgery."

Cas' eyes widened, and he looked away from the picture and up at Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That's what the scars are from."

Dean frowned. "You've, uh, seen them?"

Cas lowered his eyes to the photo again. "The first night I stayed over, when I woke up, you had your arm behind your head. So I saw the one on the underside of your arm. And another time, when I was, uh... between your legs. I saw part of the one on your inner thigh."

Dean nodded slowly and swallowed. "Yeah, those are from the final surgeries. The first surgery was just taking off all of the extra skin on my stomach because it was annoying as fuck." He paused, clearly debating if he should say what he was thinking, but then he just blurted it out. "Then I could jerk off again. It was fucking glorious."

Cas burst out laughing, and Dean laughed along with him. He'd leave out the part where he still didn't for the longest time because he'd still found himself repulsive. Cas didn't need to hear that crap.

"Okay," Dean said quickly. "Let's finish this up so we can pretend this never happened." He rummaged through more of the photos, pulling another one out. "This was 2007, when I finally got below three hundred, a year and a half after my surgery. The first skin removal took off like forty pounds, by the way."

"Holy shit," Cas breathed. The photo was of Dean, holding a small brown puppy to his chest, a large smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah."

"Is that Floyd?"

"Yep." He put the photo back and pulled out another one. "This was two years after my surgery. ...I was at two-fifteen."

Cas frowned at the photo. Dean was dressed in jeans and a flannel, standing in a hallway, hands buried in his pockets. He was forcing a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You don't look as happy as I thought you would," he observed.

Dean sighed, looking at the photo in his hand. "Yeah. Because I had so much extra skin. It was disgusting. I was so discouraged and angry with myself for ruining my body. ...That after all my hard work, I was still ashamed of it." He paused, still staring at the photo. "I have one in my underwear, but... I'd really rather not show you. Maybe one day."

"You don't have to," Cas said quietly. "But show me the one from after the surgeries."

Dean put the photo back and retrieved one more from the box. "There were a few surgeries after the initial one. Another one on my torso, but, like, all around my waist and my chest and stuff. Then one on my arms, and one on my thighs. This was a few months after the final one, once I'd healed. The surgeries took off twenty-seven pounds of just skin."

Cas looked at the photo for a long time. Dean was outside, on what looked like a hiking trail. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, holding his arms above his head and grinning at the camera. That was the Dean he knew, and it was weird seeing that Dean ten years younger.

"Looking at this, I never would have known what you looked like before," Cas said.

"I know, right? Except I was covered in scars, and my skin was still a little loose. I wore a tee shirt for this photo but usually I always wore a flannel over it. But I'd lost it all with diet change and cardio, so I didn't have much muscle mass. I did it on purpose so they could take off as much skin as possible. Once I gained some muscle... it filled out what little extra skin was left pretty well."

Cas held the few photos left in his hand out to Dean, who took them and put them back in the box. "Now I can see why fifteen pounds freaked you out so much."

"Yeah," Dean huffed, shaking his head a little. "Although looking at those, fifteen pounds really seems like nothing. I was just scared that if I slipped so easily, I would completely lose control again."

"I understand."

"If I'm being honest, I kind of preferred the extra few pounds. The skin on my stomach didn't feel as... loose."

Dean leaned forward to set the box on the coffee table, and Cas reached over, placing his hand on Dean's thigh. "I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Cas." Dean took Cas' hand in his own, squeezing his fingers.

"Did they offer for you to go on that show?" Cas asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Well... to be honest," he said, looking down at Cas' fingers, "my case wasn't that... extreme? I mean, I dunno if you've ever watched the show, but a lot of the patients have, like... oddly shaped fat deposits, lymphodemas, skin infections. Um... a lot of 'em can't even stand up, let alone take care of themselves. They've got the family members bathing them and stuff." He shook his head lightly. "I wasn't any of that. The only thing my mom did for me was normal mom shit- cooking, laundry, cleaning. The people who are on the show at six-hundred pounds are usually pretty short... At my height I probably would've had to hit seven or eight to get on there." He shrugged lightly. "Insurance covered the surgery and first skin removal anyway, so all I would've gotten out of it was the rest of the skin removal surgeries because they were considered cosmetic." He rolled his eyes. "I begged my dad to pay for it, although it didn't take much to get him to agree, and I paid him back every penny. But I wouldn't have wanted to be on TV anyway, even if it meant I'd be stuck with the extra skin. I wasn't going to broadcast my pathetic life to the entire world. People watch those shows to make them feel better about themselves, or to laugh. Nobody watches those things with sympathy for the people on there."

"I do," Cas said quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You watch that show?"

"Well... my mom does," Cas said uncomfortably. "She makes me watch it sometimes. To try and scare me, probably."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Your mom's a real fucking piece of work."

"Yeah," Cas agreed. "She is certainly not one of the people who watches with sympathy, that's for sure."

Dean sighed. "You can't expect too much of people, Cas. Most don't even have sympathy for drug addicts. They aren't going to have sympathy for food addicts."

"I suppose so."

"Do you want to talk about what we're going to do?"

Cas stared at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know... you getting healthy."

"Oh. Yes."

"Okay. Be right back." Dean let go of Cas' hand and grabbed the shoe box, walking off into the hallway and into his bedroom. He came back with a notebook and pen, sitting back down on the couch. He patted his thigh. "Lay down."

Cas scooted farther over and laid back, resting his head in Dean's lap.

"So tell me what a typical day's like," Dean said, carding his fingers through Cas' hair.

Cas closed his eyes. "Holy shit," he murmured, "That feels good."

Dean waited a moment for Cas to continue speaking, and when he didn't, he smirked. "Don't avoid the question."

Cas groaned. "It's embarrassing."

Dean scoffed. "Cas, I used to eat enough to feed a small army. Just tell me."

"Fine," Cas mumbled. "Well I told you my moms cooking sucks, so... I usually eat cereal. A bowl or two. Doesn't fill me up for long though. I'm hungry like an hour later. So I prefer to stop somewhere instead of eating cereal, but I'm starving when I wake up, so sometimes it's both. If I stop somewhere it's usually McDonald's for a McGriddle and hashbrowns. But, uh... recently they had the two for three-fifty deal, so I'd been getting two," he said, reaching up to cover his face with his hands. "If I have cash I hit the vending machine at work. For lunch I get fast food. Whatever it is depends on the day. Taco bell, or burgers, or whatever. For dinner it depends. Sometimes I stomach my mom's cooking, other days I get Chinese food. Or pizza. Sometimes I sneak into the kitchen and cook after she falls asleep."

"Okay," Dean said, nodding slowly. "It's hard to guess because it's so varied but I would guess you're eating at least four thousand calories a day, Cas."

Cas opened his eyes, frowning up at Dean. "That's a lot?"

Dean nodded. "When you look at nutrition labels, they base the percentages off of a two-thousand calorie a day diet, which is a ballpark average for most people. But you're very sedentary, so I would guess you only need twelve to fifteen hundred."

"Wow," Cas mumbled. "No wonder I'm fat."

Dean pressed his eyebrows together. "You're really going to call yourself fat, after you just looked at all those pictures?"

"Just because you were bigger doesn't negate the fact that I am fat as well."

Dean studied his face for a moment, but he didn't see the point in arguing. Cas was, technically, right. "Don't feel bad," he said. "I was probably eating like, seven or eight," he said instead. "So what we need to do is get you moving, first and foremost. And second, you need to track what you eat. No more fast food, or soda-"

Cas groaned again.

"Hey, I know it sucks, trust me. But you'll feel so much better. You feel pretty tired and sluggish all the time, don't you?"

"Yes."

"That's why." Cas nodded. "I know it'll be hard, but listen. You're going to be living with me now, and I'm going to help you, okay? Do you know how to cook?"

Cas shook his head. "I mean, I can follow instructions on a box, but..."

Dean smiled. "Very different. But it's okay. I'm gonna teach you." He leaned forward and set the notebook down on the coffee table. "I'm gonna teach you to eat right, and I'm gonna be there to encourage you and keep you on track, alright?" Cas gave him a small smile. "And you wanna know something crazy?" he asked, beginning to card his fingers through Cas' hair again.

"What?"

"I don't even fucking miss soda now. Notice I didn't drink much, even when you offered?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Yep. It's harder with the food, but I don't miss soda at all. I don't even really like it anymore."

Cas chuckled softly. "Mind. Blown." He began to push himself up from Dean's lap, and Dean reached out and grabbed his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Cas stiffened in surprise, but then he melted into it, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and darting his tongue into his mouth. When he pulled back, he bit his lip into his mouth, looking into Dean's eyes. "I think we should, um... burn some calories right now." He couldn't stop himself from cringing at how lame that sounded as soon as it left his mouth, but Dean just laughed and smiled.

"Good idea."

Cas swung his legs over and stood up, and Dean followed. On their way to the bedroom, Dean grabbed his hand, and Cas laced their fingers together. As they approached the bed, Dean pulled him in for another kiss, and Cas turned them so that the back of Dean's legs hit the edge of the mattress. He broke the kiss and buried his face in Dean's neck, kissing the warm skin there.

"...Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we, um... can we have actual sex?"

In the three months they'd been together, they'd never actually gotten that far. There'd been plenty of frottage and oral, and Cas had let Dean eat him out once, but there'd never actually been any penetration.

"Um..." Dean swallowed thickly. "I've never, um... bottomed before."

"You don't have to," Cas said, one of his hands on Dean's hip, the other running over Dean's lower back. He wasn't going to ask about why Dean assumed he had to bottom. "You can fuck me."

Dean dug his fingers into the skin around Cas' middle, a small shiver running through him at the feeling of Cas' warm breath on his neck. "...Are you sure?"

Cas huffed a small laugh. "I'm sure. Unless... you don't want to."

"No," Dean said quickly, "I want to."

Cas pulled back and placed an open palm on Dean's chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Dean bounced a bit as he landed propped on his elbows, then turned and scooted up to lean back on the pillows.

Cas dropped his pajama pants and underwear and climbed up onto the mattress, straddling Dean's hips. He splayed his hands out on Dean's chest, looking down at his flannel. "Can I take this off?"

Dean swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. The sun was already setting outside, but both night stand lights were on. He looked up into Cas' eyes, and he realized that he trusted Cas completely. Cas wasn't going to judge him. He swallowed down his nervousness and gave Cas a small nod.

Cas began unbuttoning his flannel, and Dean could feel his heart pounding harder with each button. He wished he'd done this before he told Cas everything- then at least he wouldn't be looking for the scars. Hell, he might not have even noticed them right away. Finally, Cas undid the last button, sliding his fingers beneath each side of fabric and pushing it open. He inhaled a sharp breath, lifting his eyes up to Dean's face, which was flushing with embarrassment.

"You're gorgeous, Dean," he whispered, and Dean's face darkened further as he dropped his gaze. "I mean it," Cas said, sliding his palms across Dean's chest and into the sleeves of his shirt. "You can't even tell." Dean sat up a bit so Cas could slide it off, and then he tossed it to the floor as Dean leaned back again.

"Except for the scars," Dean blurted out, looking down at himself. "And stretch marks," he added, pointing to a patch of faded stripes, only visible due to the angle of the light coming from the lamp. "And look." He grabbed the skin below his navel between his index finger and thumb and pulled it up. It tented slightly, and Cas gently slapped his hand away, causing Dean to snap his head back up.

"Stop it." He leaned down and crushed their lips together, and Dean let out a surprised little noise into his mouth. He reached up and fingered the hem of Cas' shirt, and Cas broke the kiss, stiffening slightly.

"You took off mine."

"I know..."

Dean sighed, not out of frustration or annoyance, but empathy.

"Alright, alright," Cas muttered. He leaned back and crossed his arms, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off over his head. He tossed it to the floor and turned back to Dean. "Happy?"

"Yes," Dean breathed, placing his hands on Cas' waist and rubbing his thumbs into the soft skin there. "Very."

Cas wanted to make some offhanded remark about Dean being a chubby chaser or something, if only to take the attention off of himself, but he elected to keep quiet. Instead, he scooted up and leaned forward, planting his hands on the mattress, and rolled his hips.

Dean gasped as the hard length of Cas' cock pressed up against his own through his boxers. Cas rose up onto his knees, and Dean's hips lifted off the mattress, desperate for more friction.

"Take those off."

Dean quickly complied, pushing them down to his knees and then kicking them off. Cas lowered himself again, lining himself up with Dean and rolling his hips again.

Dean closed his eyes as a quiet groan escaped his lips.

"You have lube, right?"

Dean opened his eyes and nodded, twisting at the waist to reach into the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After rummaging around for a moment, he laid back down with a small bottle of lube clutched in his hand and a condom wrapper tucked between his fingers.

He dropped the condom onto his stomach and popped open the cap to the bottle, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingertips. He rubbed his fingers together to warm it up as Cas rose to his knees and took himself in his hand. Dean watched as Cas slowly stroked himself, lost in the view, until Cas spoke.

"Dean."

Dean blinked, eyes lifting to meet Cas' gaze. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Cas assured him.

Dean reached up behind his balls, and Cas re-positioned his knees to spread them wider. Dean wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the head of Cas' cock, and Cas let his hand fall away as Dean took over, tugging slowly as his finger circled Cas' entrance. He watched Cas' face; watched as he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let his lips part.

Dean slowly pushed one finger inside, up to the first knuckle, and Cas let out a little sigh. Dean pushed it in further and wiggled it around a bit, tugging on the rim as he stroked Cas' shaft with his other hand. A bit of precome oozed from the tip, and Dean swiped it around with his thumb. Above him, Cas let out a little moan, so Dean pulled his finger back out and returned it with a second one.

His own cock ached between them, so he pulled his hand away from Cas' length to wrap his fingers around his own. He tugged gently, slowly, as the fingers of his other hand continued to work Cas open. A few more minutes passed before Cas opened his eyes and looked down at Dean.

"Dean," he breathed.

Dean removed his fingers and let go of his cock to grab the condom and rip open the wrapper. He rolled it down over himself, and then he grabbed the bottle of lube off of the bed and poured a generous amount onto his dick. He stroked himself once or twice, just to spread it around, then he firmly grasped the base and looked up at Cas, waiting for him to take the lead.

Cas shimmied down a bit, placing his palms on Dean's chest before lowering himself down. He bit his lip as he felt the head catch on his rim, slowly lowering himself further until it slid in.

Dean gasped beneath him as he slowly sunk into the soft warmth of Cas. Cas let out a slow breath until he was fully seated, and then he stilled for a moment, eyes closed, fingers pressing softly into the skin on Dean's chest.

"You feel so good, Cas," Dean murmured, bringing his hands up to grip Cas' waist again. Because holy shit, it felt like it had been forever since he'd been inside somebody. And now that he was, it wasn't just anybody, it was Cas.

"So do you," Cas responded. He rolled his hips slightly, forcing another groan out of Dean. "Are you going to move?"

"Yes," Dean pushed out. He slid his feet up to plant them on the mattress, jostling Cas in the process. Cas leaned back a bit onto Dean's legs, and, gripping Cas' waist tightly to keep him in place, Dean pulled his hips back a bit before rolling them forward.

Cas let out a strangled little groan as his eyes slipped shut. He stayed upright as Dean gently thrust up into him a few times, and then he leaned forward, draping himself over Dean. Dean's hands moved to palm across his back as Cas pressed kisses to his neck.

It was agonizing, but Dean kept it slow and steady for a few minutes, focusing on the feeling of Cas' mouth against his neck. Cas turned his head slightly, trailing open-mouthed kisses along Dean's jawline until he made it to his mouth. He brought one hand up from where it was supporting him on the mattress to cup Dean's face as he pressed their lips together.

Dean's lips parted to let Cas inside, and as their tongues explored each other's mouths, all Dean could think about was how much he'd missed this. He'd missed the way Cas tasted, the way he smelled- both fresh out of the shower and not, the weight and warmth of Cas on top of him.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, pressing him to his chest, and flipped them over. He almost slid out, but not completely, and the way Cas clenched around him as they rolled sent a wave of pleasure through his core. He propped himself up on his elbows and picked up the pace, slamming into Cas over and over as that familiar heat pooled in his stomach.

"Oh, god," Cas choked out, fingers digging into the muscle on Dean's upper arms.

He started to slow down, trying to prolong his release, but Cas had other ideas. He reached down and grabbed onto the meat of Dean's ass, pulling his hips further toward him. "Come on, don't stop," he whined. "Please."

"Cas," Dean panted. "I don't wanna come yet."

Cas gave a quick nod and licked his lips, sliding his hands up Dean's lower back and to his shoulder blades. Dean lowered himself down onto him, sealing their lips together. They made out lazily, as Dean thrust in and out at a slow, steady pace. When Cas started whining impatiently into the kiss, rolling his hips up to meet Dean's thrusts, Dean pulled back, settling back on his haunches. He grabbed around the back of Cas' thighs and lifted his hips up, sliding out almost all the way before slamming back in.

Stars exploded in Cas' vision as Dean hit his prostate.

"Fuck," he moaned. "Dean. Just like that."

Dean did it again, and again, and he felt himself rapidly approaching his breaking point. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back until Cas came, but all he got was a decent amount of precome oozing from the head. He released Cas' left leg- which Cas lazily pressed up against his waist- and reached forward, taking Cas in his hand, wondering how he could've been so selfish as to neglect Cas' cock. He spread the precome around, jerking roughly in time with his thrusts. He tore his eyes away from Cas' perfect dick to take in his face; his head was tossed back, pressed into the pillow, eyes screwed shut and mouth open slightly. His face and neck were flushed, all the way down to his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly as he approached release. When Dean rubbed his thumb right along the underside of the head on the upstroke, perfectly in sync with hitting his prostate, Cas cried out, shooting his load all over his chest and neck.

Dean finally let himself go, tipping his head back and exploding into the condom with a grunt. He gave two more lazy thrusts, his hips shaking, before he dropped Cas and collapsed on top of him.

"That was... awesome..." Cas breathed.

Dean sucked in a breath and nodded. "Yeah," he panted. "I'm sorry... I came... so fast."

Cas reached up and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "You did fine. Really."

They laid like that for a few minutes, panting and sweaty, until Cas began squirming.

"Hold on," Dean said. "I'll get it." He slowly pushed himself up and leaned back on his knees, grabbing his softened dick at the base to pull the condom out with it. Cas let out a small sigh as Dean climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning momentarily with two wet washcloths. He wiped down Cas' neck and chest, and used the other one to clean between his legs.

Cas spread his legs for him, and when Dean looked up, he murmured, "You're very pretty, Cas."

Cas' face was already a bit pink from exertion, but it flushed a deeper red. "Thank you," he said quietly. They held their gaze for a moment before Cas cleared his throat and looked towards the bedroom door. "I could really use a cigarette."

"You can smoke in here," Dean offered.

Cas blinked. "...Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "I'd prefer not to make it a habit, but I think I can make an exception for after sex." He flashed Cas a grin as he pulled on his boxers, followed by the pajama pants Cas had discarded. "Let me just grab the ashtray."

They laid in bed for a while after that, until Dean cleared his throat. "You know," he said into Cas' shoulder, "You're only the fourth person I've slept with."

"Really?"

Dean nodded. "What about you?"

Cas let out a breath. "Including you? Sixteen."

"Fucking player," Dean teased, slapping Cas' chest as lightly as possible.

Cas shrugged. "I get around."

Dean was quiet for a few minutes, but then suddenly he lifted his head. "Shit, how much stuff do you have? We probably need a truck."

Cas shrugged his shoulders lightly. "A bed, a dresser, a night stand... Roger's cage. Otherwise it's just some clothes... CD's and cassette tapes. A few books. My laptop."

"Do you need the bed?" Dean asked. "I mean... I have a guest room, with a bed. If you want."

Cas looked disappointed. "That's fine."

"You can sleep in here, Cas," Dean said quickly. "I just wasn't sure if you'd want to. You made it sound like you wanted to bring your bed."

Cas rolled over and tucked his face into Dean's chest. "Of course I want to. But I didn't want to assume."

"Good," Dean responded, running his palm along Cas' upper back. "I'm going to call Bobby and see if I can borrow his truck after work."

"Okay," Cas murmured.

"Are you tired?"

Cas nodded minutely. "And my head hurts."

"Do you want some ibuprofen?"

Cas nodded again. "I have a prescription, but I left it at home."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Dean offered, pushing himself up off of the mattress. "Get under the blanket and get comfortable."

"Thank you," Cas said distractedly as Dean left the room, glancing down and realizing he'd been naked the entire time. Jesus. He got out of bed and pulled the blanket back, settling down on the sheets and pulling it back over himself.

Dean came back in with two pills and a glass of water.

"Thank you," Cas said as he took them from Dean's outstretched hands. He knocked the pills back and downed half of the water as Dean pulled down his pajama pants.

"Holy shit, you have no idea how good it feels to have all of that off my chest," he said, dropping his underwear and stepping out of them to get under the blanket with Cas. "I hated hiding it from you."

"I wish you hadn't felt like you needed to hide it from me in the first place," Cas said, setting the half-full glass of water down on the night stand.

"Me too," Dean agreed, twisting around to adjust his alarm clock as Cas settled on his back into the pillows. Dean clicked off the light and shifted next to him, tossing one arm over his stomach. "And now I can sleep naked. I hated sleeping in clothes."

"I hate it, too," Cas said around a yawn, rolling over to so his back was to Dean. Dean scooted over so he was pressed up against his back, settling his face against the back of Cas' neck and tightening his arm around him.

"Am I, like, smothering you?" Dean asked after a moment.

"Not at all," Cas replied sleepily.

"Good." Dean sighed contently against his skin. "I'm really glad you're here, Cas."

"Me too."

"Night."

"Goodnight, Dean." As Dean's breathing evened out behind him, Cas took a moment to recognize how incredibly grateful he was that he'd found Dean, and that even after their big hiccup, he was back in Dean's bed (and his life), arm wrapped securely around him. The realization that as of now, he would have this every night, had him drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face. He just had to get through tomorrow.

---

The next morning, Dean woke Cas up bright and early with a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

"Mornin', sunshine."

Cas groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position and rubbing at his eyes. He squinted at Dean, standing at the edge of the bed, and then his eyes traveled down to the mug of coffee in his hand. Dean handed it to him and Cas took a small sip.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean smiled warmly. "You're welcome." He sat down next to him on the bed, watching as Cas sipped his cup of coffee and tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes. "So I'm leaving for work soon. I'll be back by one-thirty." He paused, taking in Cas' squinting eyes and bedhead. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

Cas blinked, then looked down at his coffee, then back up at Dean. "So why did you wake me up and make me coffee?"

"I wanted to ask you a question and then make you breakfast."

"Okay? What's the question?"

"Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?" Cas nodded. "Okay, so, today, or Monday?"

Cas blinked again as he took a moment to recall what exactly they'd talked about yesterday. "Oh," he said finally. Then, sheepishly, "Uh, Monday."

"Okay."

"But you should do it with me."

"Do what with you?"

"Eat whatever you want for the weekend."

Dean smiled and shook his head. "I can't, Cas."

"Yes you can, because then on Monday you have to teach me how to eat right. So you won't be able to just keep eating crap." He smirked and lifted his coffee mug towards his mouth. "My health is in your hands." He took a quick sip of the coffee. "Two days. We can just smoke and hang out until Monday."

Dean thought about it for a moment. Cas did deserve at least a day or two to eat what he wanted without his mom making him feel like shit. And he'd wanted to put that fifteen pounds back on anyway, so it's not like it really mattered. Cas was right, even if he was tempted to keep eating crap after the weekend, he had Cas to set an example for now. "...Does sound kinda fun."

"So yes?"

"Yes. So if you want breakfast, get up. I have to leave in half an hour."

"I definitely want breakfast."

Dean smiled and stood up, leaving the room as Cas finished his coffee. He set the mug down on the night stand and located his underwear and tee shirt on the floor. The pajamas they'd shared the night before were at the foot of the bed. He got dressed and grabbed the empty mug, bringing it out with him. Floyd was lying on the kitchen floor, far enough away from Dean that he could simply glance up to stare at what he was cooking on the stove. Cas came up behind him, empty mug in hand, and Dean nodded towards the coffee maker.

"More coffee?"

Cas shook his head, setting the mug in the sink. "I'm probably going to go back to sleep once you leave, if that's okay."

"Fine by me."

Cas glanced down at the bacon Dean was pushing around the pan. "I'm surprised you even have bacon."

Dean shrugged. "I keep some stuff for guests and special occasions and shit. This was in the freezer." He set the spatula down on the counter and reached up into the cabinet, pulling out two plates. "I'm going to stop at the store on the way home, though. So I'll probably be back around two."

"I should be awake by then, but if I'm not just wake me up."

"Okay. I'll probably come back with the truck and we can go right to your mom's."

Cas' stomach sank. He had completely forgotten about that. "Okay."

"Here," Dean said, and Cas looked down and realized his plate was ready.

"Thank you." He picked up his plate and made his way to the table as Dean clicked off the burners and grabbed his own plate. He noticed Dean had only one slice of toast, two eggs, and a slice of bacon, whereas he'd given Cas two pieces of toast, what looked like three eggs, and three slices of bacon. He felt kind of sick as he looked at the two plates next to each other- was he really regularly eating double what a normal person ate?

Dean stared at him from across the table, chewing a bite of eggs-on-toast. "What?"

Cas shook his head. "Nothing," he said, picking up his fork. "It smells really good."

"It is really good," Dean confirmed. "...You sure they checked you for head injuries?"

"Yes."

"Because zonin' out like that can be a type of seizure," he said, waving around the rest of his toast. "Absentee seizures. Just sayin'."

"I was just actually zoning out. I was present. I was thinking."

"Okay. Just making sure. Can't in good conscious leave you here alone for six hours without checking." Dean smiled as he brought his glass to his lips.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean nodded as Cas chewed on a piece of bacon. They continued eating in comfortable silence, until Dean pushed his plate away with a bit of scrambled egg left. Cas was still working on a few more bites of eggs and one more piece of bacon.

"I don't wanna go to work."

Cas smiled sadly. "I don't want you to either."

"I wish I could've had more time to show you around before leaving you here alone."

"It's okay. I'm going to be sleeping anyway."

Dean nodded. "You're right." He glanced down at his watch. "Shit, I gotta go." He stood up and grabbed his plate and glass, hastily setting them in the sink. "Um, help yourself to anything you find in the house," he said quickly, heading towards the door. He sat down on the small wooden bench against the wall and shoved his feet into his boots. "Call me if you need anything. Oh, and I have cameras everywhere but the bathroom." He shook his head. "Shit, I probably should've told you that a long time ago. It's mainly to watch Floyd or for evidence if someone breaks in." He tied the lace on his boot and stood up. "If you want me to take them down while you're living here I get it," he said, grabbing his jacket off the hook. "I just wanted to tell you before I left because I wouldn't want to be recorded when I thought I was alone. So..." He yanked his jacket on and fished his keys out of the pocket. "I gotta go though. I'll see you later."

"Have a good day," Cas called weakly after him, as Dean waved and slipped out the door. He hadn't been able to get a word in once Dean realized he was late; not that he'd had much to say anyway. He was kind of shocked about the camera thing though. Every room but the bathroom... so there was one in the bedroom? That would explain why Dean became so flustered when he mentioned it. Maybe he thought Cas would be furious at the thought of their encounters being recorded. It made Cas feel a bit violated, yes, but it's not like Dean had done it on purpose. He'd always had them set up, and they were for surveillance, not making non-consentual sex tapes. He'd probably never gone back and watched them or anything, and if only a certain amount of time was stored, anything from the first three months of their relationship was probably long deleted by now anyway.

The only thing that would be on there was the night before... Cas cringed at the thought of seeing himself fucking... especially on top.

He finished his last slice of bacon and stood up, picking up his plate and bringing it to the sink. The dish drain was empty, so he washed the plates, pans, forks, and cups from breakfast and set them all in the drain to dry. After a quick cigarette on the back porch, he got undressed again and climbed back under the blankets. Dean's bed was ridiculously comfortable, and even with his sore neck, he was able to drift off quickly.

He woke up to the alarm he'd set for half past noon. Floyd was at the foot of the bed, snoozing lightly, and the room was a comfortable sixty-eight degrees thanks to the air conditioner in the window. He felt like he'd slept better than he had in years. He rolled over onto his stomach, wrapping his arms around the pillow next to him and breathing in deeply. It smelled like Dean, the blanket smelled like Dean, the bed and the whole damn room smelled like Dean.

He grabbed his phone and rolled onto his back again as he checked his notifications. He replied to a text from Gabe and scrolled through Facebook for a few minutes, before deciding he should get up and shower and brush his teeth. He called Dean from the bathroom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, um, hope I'm not bothering you, but is this blue toothbrush in the cabinet the same one I was using when I used to stay over?"

"Yep."

"Okay cool. Also, I need a shower..."

"Towels and washcloths are in the closet in the hallway. I don't know what to give you by way of clothes, but you can grab a pair of my boxers until I get back and then I can look for something?"

"I can wear my clothes from yesterday, it's fine. Although I'll take you up on the boxers."

"Top drawer of the dresser. You can take some socks, too, if you want."

"Thank you."

"I'll be out of here in about half an hour. Bobby said I can borrow his truck, so I'm just going to run to the grocery store really quick and grab some stuff and then I'll be home."

Home. Cas caught the goofy smile on his face in the bathroom mirror as Dean said it. "Okay."

xxx

Cas had just finished smoking a bowl on the couch when Floyd jumped down and hurried towards the door. "What is it?" Cas asked him. "Is Daddy home?"

Floyd looked at him briefly but quickly returned his focus to the door as the knob turned and it opened.

"Hey, Floyd!" Dean said cheerfully, making his way in the door with four grocery bags. "Didja miss me?"

"We both did," Cas said from where he was twisted around on the couch, and Dean snapped his head up to look at him. A smile spread across his face, and he quickly crossed the room and leaned over the back of the couch to kiss him.

"Sorry I didn't do that this morning," he said awkwardly after they broke apart. He'd never lived with a partner before, not even Lisa, so he would've felt incredibly awkward just running up to Cas and kissing him while Cas was in the middle of eating, they were on opposite sides of the room, and the "mood" didn't call for it. But he'd wanted to, so he decided that from now on, he was going to.

"It's okay," Cas said. "What did you get at the store?"

"Just enough for the weekend," Dean said, heading towards the kitchen with the bags. "We'll go back Monday and do an actual grocery run." He set them down on the floor next to the fridge and rummaged around in them for a moment before pulling out a box of taco shells. "Lunch?"

Cas smiled and held up a joint he'd rolled in preparation for Dean's return. "Smoke?"

xxx

Half-way to his parents house, Cas made Dean pull over so he could have a cigarette. He paced a bit along the side of the road, and as soon as he finished the cigarette, he lit another one.

Dean got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. "Cas, are you okay?"

Cas sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "My mom is going to lose her shit."

"Why?"

Cas turned his eyes on Dean, frowning. "Because I didn't give her any notice. Because I'm leaving. Because I'm moving in with a man. The list goes on."

Dean pulled him into a hug. "It'll be okay, man. After today you won't have to deal with it anymore."

"I just wish I didn't have to deal with it at all," Cas said into his chest. "But I want my stuff, and I can't leave Roger there."

"I'll be there, Cas. You got this." He released him and took a step back.

Cas nodded, taking another drag off of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stepping on it. "You're right." He didn't want to tell him that that was part of the issue; he didn't want Dean to see just how fucked up and dysfunctional his family really was.

When they pulled into Cas' driveway, Cas might as well have been vibrating, he was so tightly wound. Dean reached across the seat to take his hand. "It'll be okay."

Cas looked like he didn't believe him, but he nodded and opened the door. They hopped down from the cab of the truck and walked up to the front door. Cas turned the handle and pushed it open.

"Mom?" he called, stepping over the threshold.

"I'm in the kitchen," she called back. "Where were you last night? You didn't come home."

He turned his head and nodded to Dean to come in, and as Dean closed the door behind him, Cas made his way towards the kitchen.

"Listen," he started, ignoring her question. "I'm really sorry to drop this on you like this, but... I'm moving out."

She turned from the sink, where she was washing dishes, and she actually looked amused. "...What?"

"I said, I'm moving out," Cas repeated.

She laughed, and Cas couldn't put a finger on how it made him feel. Somewhere half-way between ashamed and infuriated. "And where are you going to go?"

"I found a roommate," he said simply. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Sure," she said, turning back to the dishes. "Right. So when will you be leaving? A couple of months?"

"Um, no... Today."

She whipped back around, eyes narrowed. "Really. And this person is just going to let you move in with no security, no first month's rent? Today?"

"...Yes. Although I have both of those things."

"You're lying. You knew about this and you chose not to tell me."

"No, I didn't-"

She cut him off. "Stop. I don't know why you insist on believing I'm stupid-"

Dean stepped out from around the corner to stand behind Cas. "He's telling the truth."

Her eyes moved to Dean and widened. "Is this- you- the mechanic?" she stammered, her eyes narrowing on Cas again. "You're moving in with the mechanic?!"

"Yes," Cas answered simply.

She looked between the both of them for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed further. "Is this the man you've been seeing, Castiel?" Before Cas could answer, she spoke again. "You really couldn't do any better than a mechanic?"

"Hey," Dean protested. "There's nothing wrong with being a mechanic. I make good money."

"Any moron could do manual labor," she said with distaste, barely sparing him a glance before turning on Cas again. "I would caution you to seriously reconsider this, Castiel."

"I've already made my decision," Cas said, his voice quiet but determined. "I'm not changing my mind."

She quickly crossed the room, reaching out to take his hands, and Cas' minuscule flinch didn't escape Dean's notice. "Castiel, please. Don't do this to us. We can get you help. You can find a nice woman."

Cas pulled his hands away and stepped back. "Mom, stop. I'm not doing this to hurt you. Why can't you see that?"

"Because everything your father and I want for you, you do the opposite!"

"Because I want to live my own fucking life!" Cas snapped.

Her eyes widened. "Language!"

Knowing it was hopeless, Cas rolled his eyes and turned away from her, brushing past Dean and walking across the living room. Dean started to follow him, but Naomi reached out and grabbed his arm as Cas disappeared down the hallway.

"What do you even see in him?" she asked in a frantic whisper. Dean blinked at her, dumbfounded, and she continued before he could even respond. "He's lazy, he's a slob-"

"Whoa- are you serious right now?" Dean snapped, finally finding his voice and yanking his arm away. "How could you say something like that about your own son? Are you that desperate for him to stay here and not move in with another guy? Christ, he doesn't like women! Get over it."

"This is about much more than his perversions."

"And if I recall correctly," Dean said angrily, "he told me you wouldn't even let him float a bill to get new clothes, so you only have yourself to blame for his clothes not fitting."

"Myself?" she sneered. "Maybe if he stopped stuffing his face they'd still fit."

Dean gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at her. What he really wanted to do was deck her, but he didn't want to go to jail for assaulting his boyfriend's mom, so he'd have to settle for a verbal thrashing. "You're a horrible person," he growled. "I really like your son, but even if he and I don't work out, I will make damn sure he never has to come back here. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself." He turned and walked away from her, leaving her standing in the doorway to the kitchen in stunned silence.

Dean quickly crossed the living room and turned the corner into the hallway. Only one door at the end of the hall was open, with the light on, so he headed for that one.

Immediately to the right was a dresser, with a few random things strewn across the top. An empty bowl and cup sat on top of a closed laptop. To the left was an open closet, and straight across from the door was the rat cage. Along the far right wall was Cas' bed, and Cas was sitting on the edge, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, stepping into the room and over a pile of clothes. Cas didn't lift his head, so Dean sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "It's okay, Cas," he said, giving him a gentle shake. "Fuck her."

"How could she say those things?" Cas mumbled.

"It's alright, Cas, a lot of people don't respect manual labor."

Cas lifted his head to stare across the room, and Dean realized his eyes were wet.

"Oh... you heard the other stuff," he said quietly.

"She's said stuff like that to me before," he said quietly, dragging the palm of his hand across his face. "But... how can she say it to someone else? What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"Because she doesn't want me to take you away, Cas. She's desperate to say anything to get you to stay. I don't know why, but I don't care what she says. You're coming home with me, okay?" He took Cas' chin in his hand and turned his head, leaning forward for a kiss. "Okay?" he repeated when he pulled away.

Cas nodded. "It's just-" He looked away and took a deep breath. "I'm an almost thirty-year-old man and my mom just made me cry. It's fucking pathetic."

"Cas, stop it. Guys can cry. Let's just get your room packed up and get the fuck out of here."

Cas nodded again and sniffled deeply. "I'm sorry it's a mess," he said softly, wiping his palms over his face again. "I wasn't expecting to move, and... I've just been kinda... depressed the last few months."

"It's alright," Dean assured him. He felt horrible that he'd made things worse for Cas because of his own stupid insecurities, but he couldn't dwell on it. All he could do was help Cas now. "I'm going to go get the boxes and tape out of the truck, okay?"

Cas nodded again, and Dean stood up, running his fingers through his hair briefly to recollect himself before exiting the room. It took all of sixty seconds for Naomi to come stand in Cas' doorway while Dean was outside.

"What are you going to do when he gets tired of you, Castiel? You can't come back here."

"I don't care," he grumbled, looking away from her. He was sure his face was still a bit blotchy, and he absolutely hated giving her the satisfaction of seeing she'd made him cry. "I'll figure it out."

"That's not smart planning."

"Just let it go, mom," Cas pleaded. "Please. Just leave me alone."

"Is this the man that hurt you? You've been a miserable mess for three months, and what, he apologizes and now you're moving in with him? Do you realize how bad of a decision this is? How can you be so naïve? Or are you doing this just to spite me?"

"Just drop it!" Cas yelled.

She pursed her lips, and she looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she turned her head to look into the hallway.

"Can you do me a favor?" Cas heard Dean's voice come from around the corner, low and laced with anger. "Can you leave him alone until we're done? You can hash it out later."

"Fine," she said coldly, taking a step back so Dean could enter the doorway with the boxes.

Dean stepped past her and handed Cas a box. They started putting them together and taping the bottoms, ignoring her, so she let out an exaggerated sigh and walked away. Cas stood up and closed the door.

"She's a fucking nightmare," Dean muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," Cas agreed. "Try living with her for damn near thirty years."

"You're stronger than I am, Cas," Dean said, looking down at the box he was taping. "I would've offed myself." Cas was quiet, and Dean briefly wondered if Cas had considered it. But he didn't want to think about that, so he motioned toward Cas' closet without lifting his head to see Cas' face. "Bring me clothes."

Cas pulled a bunch of shirts out of the closet, dumping them next to Dean on the bed, and Dean began hastily folding them and tucking them into the box as Cas packed away his books. There was a small squeak, and Dean's head snapped up.

"Oh," Cas said. "How could I have forgotten to introduce you? This is Roger." He crossed the room and popped open the door to the cage, and Roger ran out, turning and climbing up the side of the cage. Cas wrapped his fingers around his little body and pulled him from the bars, holding him out to Dean.

Dean cupped his hands against his chest, and Roger settled there, before standing up on his hind legs to sniff Dean's mouth. He then began licking Dean's bottom lip.

"He's cute," Dean said.

Cas' lips stretched into a wide smile. "I'm glad you think so. A lot of people think rats are gross."

"Why?" Dean asked, pulling his head back to get a better look at the animal. "He looks clean, he doesn't smell or anything."

Cas shrugged. "I dunno. They can't see past the city street rat image, I guess."

"Do you want to put him back while we pack?"

"Nah," Cas said, reaching out and picking him up. "He can chill with me." He placed Roger on his shoulder, and to Dean's surprise, Roger settled there as Cas went back to packing his books.

It only took them about an hour to pack everything up. Dean had Cas do most of the packing and he made as many runs to the truck as he could alone. He didn't want Cas lifting more than absolutely necessary, considering he had whiplash. They removed the drawers from the dresser and loaded it up into the truck, then replaced the drawers and taped them shut. They put all of the boxes in front of it, and when they went back in for Roger's cage, Dean glanced in the closet to make sure it was empty.

"There's still a box in here," he commented.

"Um, yeah," Cas said uncomfortably. "It can stay."

"What is it?" Dean asked. It was tucked into the back corner of the closet, and it was small, no bigger than a shoe box. He wondered if there was anything important inside. He suddenly realized it might be a sex toy, and he was about to just drop the subject when Cas responded.

"Go ahead and open it," Cas shrugged.

Dean kneeled down and pulled it out, popping the top off to reveal a myriad of junk food- mostly chocolate. He realized that this was Cas' stash, and it made something twist up inside him. He had his own secret stash all those years ago, and it worried him that Cas was displaying similar behaviors.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Doing what?" Cas asked.

"Hiding food."

Cas shrugged. "Since forever. As soon as I had my own money, I guess. I couldn't take anything from the pantry without my mom saying something, so..."

"Are you sure you want to leave it?"

Cas raised an eyebrow, although Dean couldn't see it, as he was still staring down into the box. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you could always get more and hide it from me, too." He paused. "If you want, I can hold onto this somewhere in the house, and if you want some, ask me and I'll get it for you, and just make sure you log it. You won't get anywhere completely depriving yourself. You need to treat yourself once in a while, or you'll go nuts and end up binging."

"Do you treat yourself?" Cas asked pointedly.

Dean finally turned his head to look at him. "Yes, on occasion."

"Fine," Cas said with a shrug. "Then bring it."

Dean wrapped a strip of tape around it and threw it into the last box that was sitting in the center of the room, with the last few of Cas' miscellaneous things and any of his stuff he'd grabbed from the bathroom.

"Are we done?"

"Yes," Cas said. "Just this box and Roger's cage."

"No sex toys under the mattress that you don't want your mom to find?" Dean teased.

Cas smiled. "Just an extra-large bad dragon. Hopefully it'll give her a heart attack."

Dean's eyes widened and Cas frowned.

"I was joking."

Dean cracked a smile. "About having a bad dragon toy, or hoping it gives your mom a heart attack?"

"Both," Cas answered. "Actually... maybe just the first one."

Dean brought the last box out to the truck, and when he returned, they lifted up Roger's cage. As they carried it out into the living room, Naomi had re-appeared and was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

"Won't be sad to see that thing go," she said coldly.

Dean gritted his teeth as Cas shot her a glare. "Yeah, well, he doesn't like you either," Cas snapped. Clearly, as his remaining time with his mother dwindled down to nothing, so did his patience.

Naomi's eyebrows shot up on her forehead for a moment, before lowering again as she narrowed her eyes and took another sip from her glass. "So ungrateful," she muttered. "This is the thanks I get for letting you live here this long? You should've left a long time ago."

Dean realized he'd slowed to a stop when the bottom edge of Roger's cage dug into his stomach.

"Just ignore her," Cas mumbled, and Dean began walking again.

When they came back in, it was to survey the room one last time. There was nothing left but the bed, so they went back out into the living room, where Naomi was still seated on the couch.

"That's the last of it," Cas announced. Naomi only hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm going to need the money from my savings now."

Naomi looked confused for a split second, like she hadn't thought of that, before pursing her lips. "Consider it back-rent for all those years I didn't charge you."

Disbelief flashed across Cas' face, followed by anger, and Dean watched as he quickly squashed it down. "You did charge me rent," Cas pointed out calmly.

"Not until you turned twenty-one," she countered.

"You can't-"

"Cas, forget it," Dean tried, but Cas whipped his head around.

"I had like five grand saved, Dean!"

Naomi chuckled. "Not nearly that much after I paid to have that monstrosity fixed."

"You guilted me about that the entire time it was in the shop, acting like you were paying for it," Cas said through gritted teeth.

She only shrugged her shoulders lightly, and Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "You know what? Fine. I don't fucking care."

This time she didn't comment on Cas' language, instead only raising her eyebrows again. She seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of Cas, and it infuriated Dean, but this wasn't his fight. It was so close to over- he just had to get Cas out the door- but Cas remained rooted to the spot, staring his mother down.

"Cas, come on," he urged. "I'll give you five grand."

Cas turned his head to stare at him in shock. "Really?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, really. Despite your mom's opinion of my job, I make good money."

Cas cast one last glance at his mother, and as soon as he opened his mouth, the front door opened behind Dean.

"Oh thank god you're here," Naomi said, looking between them. "Tell your son he is making a terrible mistake."

Dean and Cas both turned around to see Bartholomew closing the front door behind him. He looked to his left and made eye contact with Dean, then gave him a curt nod and held out his hand. "Bart."

Dean glanced at Cas, who looked confused as hell, before taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Uh, Dean."

Bart turned and nodded at Cas as well. "Cas."

Cas' brow drew together in further confusion. "Did... did you just call me Cas?"

"That's what you want to be called, isn't it?" Bart asked calmly.

Cas opened his mouth but didn't say anything, and the room was quiet until Naomi yelled, "What is going on here?!"

"Castiel is almost thirty years old, dear," Bart said, loosening his tie as he crossed the living room. "I think it's long overdue that he moved out."

Naomi stared at him in shocked silence, as Bart calmly set his briefcase on the coffee table and picked up the newspaper.

"Are you kidding? He can't even take care of himself."

"Hmm," Bart said, taking a seat in the recliner and opening the newspaper. "Perhaps he would be able to if you'd ever given him the chance."

"So you're just going to let him leave?"

"I'm not letting him do anything. He's a god damned adult," Bart said, anger simmering in his voice. "And quite frankly I feel like we've all been tortured enough."

Dean's eyes widened and he immediately looked over at Cas. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted, and Dean was pretty sure he was speechless.

"I didn't mean it that way, Cas," Bart amended quickly. "I just meant that neither of us wanted this with each other. You weren't exactly planned. It's time for all three of us to stop living in a situation none of us can stand."

"I'm well aware of the circumstances regarding my conception," Cas finally said.

"What?" Naomi gasped, dropping her wine glass.

"And quite frankly I think both of your behavior has been disgusting. It was not my fault. I shouldn't have to suffer because you two fucked up."

"How dare you speak of that!" Naomi yelled. "Bart, do something!"

"He's right, Naomi. Just let him go. Haven't we all suffered long enough?"

"Suffered?" Cas scoffed, and everyone in the room turned to look at him. "Are you fucking kidding? You have a great job and live in a nice house and have a normal life for the most part, and you really think that's justice for what you fucking did? Oh, boo-hoo, poor me, I raped someone and had to financially support the kid that resulted."

"Stop!" Naomi screamed.

Dean's jaw dropped. He'd already felt like he was intruding on a private conversation, but this was absolutely insane.

"Because that's all you did," Cas continued. "You've never been any kind of father, I barely even know you, and my entire life you've just stood by and let her run my god damned life!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Naomi. "You let her treat me like shit every day without so much as a word, and then you want to come in here and shake my boyfriend's hand and call me Cas like you've been on my side this entire time? Where were you up until now, huh? Do you have any idea what they did to me at that stupid fucking camp you let her send me to?!"

Cas stopped to take a breath and Dean was able to come to his senses enough to realize Cas was shaking. He quickly went to his side and placed a hand on his upper arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey."

Cas didn't acknowledge him, as he stared both of his parents down. "Fuck both of you," he finally said, his voice shaking, and then he took a step back.

Dean turned towards the door, tugging Cas with him. Both Naomi and Bart were silent, and Cas didn't even spare them another glance when he slammed the front door behind him.

Once they closed the doors to the truck, Cas sunk down in his seat, leaning his head back and letting out a heavy sigh. "God dammit," he said, and the words came out strangled as he tried to hold back tears. "That was horrible. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Dean wasn't sure what to say, so he just reached over and placed his hand over Cas'.

Cas opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at him. "Did you really mean what you said?"

"About what?"

"If... If we don't work out... I don't have to come back," he said shakily.

"Yes, of course," Dean said with a nod, squeezing Cas' fingers.

Cas closed his eyes again, and Dean watched his features smooth out as he relaxed, watched his throat ripple as he swallowed.

"Cas... I don't know if you realize this, but... what she does? That- that's psychological abuse."

Cas exhaled sharply through his nose. "I know, Dean. Trust me."

Dean gave his hand one more reassuring squeeze before pulling his hand away and starting the truck.

"Hold on," Cas said quickly, popping open the door. "I have to get Roger." He climbed out of the cab, and Dean watched in the rear view as he took Roger out of his cage and carried him back into the truck.

Cas was quiet the entire ride, stroking Roger's head as he lay curled up on his lap, until they got back to Dean's house. They unloaded the truck in relative silence. They placed the dresser in the bedroom and the boxes in the guest room for now, until Cas had the time to sort through them and figure out where he was going to put everything.

"Where do you want to put Roger's cage?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. "Wherever we spend the most time would be best. Is it okay if he's in the living room?"

"Course. I just gotta get something to put his cage on." He grabbed an old card table from the attic, and they set it next to the TV and put Roger's cage on top of it. Cas held Roger in his hands and let Floyd sniff him, and to Cas' relief, after a quick sniff Floyd seemed disinterested.

"I was worried he may not like him," Cas admitted, straightening up as Floyd wandered away.

"Who? Floyd? Nah, he's pretty chill. Roger should be safe. But I'll take him for a walk to tire him out before we go get your clothes."

"Oh," Cas said as he put Roger back in his cage. "Right. I forgot about that." He paused. "I'm totally drained and my neck kind of hurts... Can I take a nap while you're gone?"

"Of course, Cas," Dean said, moving in on him and placing his hands on his waist. He wasn't surprised Cas was tired, between the physical exertion of moving and the emotional exhaustion of dealing with his mother- and all five days after a car accident. "It's still early. I'll take him for a long one. Go get some rest." He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Do you need some ibuprofen?"

Cas shook his head lightly, and Dean noticed him wince slightly. "I grabbed my prescription."

"Okay. Go take some and take a nap."

"Thank you," Cas said, leaning his forehead into Dean's chest.

Dean pulled away. "Go on. Get undressed and lay in the bed."

Cas nodded, and as Dean walked to the front door and grabbed Floyd's leash, he made his way into Dean's- no, their, bedroom. The realization made him smile as he stripped out of his clothes and climbed under the blanket.

But as he laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't stop thinking about the events of the day. He couldn't believe what his mother had said to Dean. What fucking right did she have trying to scare Dean away? And he wasn't a slob, anyway. So he was overweight- big deal. He showered and brushed his teeth every day, and while his room had been messy, it wasn't gross. He'd always considered himself a clean person. What right did she have to say being fat negated all of that?

And the shit his father had said. Acting like his life was really such shit when what he'd done to Naomi when they were kids was unexcusable. Yeah, Naomi probably treated him like shit, too, and living with her was no picnic, but he was probably half the reason she was as crazy as she was, anyway. So fuck him.

He rolled over onto his side and pulled the blanket up under his chin, tearing up a bit as he remembered Dean's words. That's psychological abuse. He wondered if his life would be different if one parent hadn't completely checked out and the other hadn't always been tearing him down, trying to convince him to hate himself.

His sleep was interrupted by Dean lightly shaking his shoulder.

"Hey."

He slowly opened his eyes to see Dean standing over him.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes... As much as I don't want to leave this bed," Cas groaned.

"When we get back we can get back in bed," Dean offered, smiling softly.

Cas smiled back. "Okay."

They dropped the truck back at Bobby's and took the Impala to the store. Cas was still tired, as he'd only slept for two hours; while it should've been a sufficient nap, it just served to leave him feeling groggy. But Dean stopped and got him a coffee, black, and he perked up again as they got to the store.

"Are you sure you want to go to Wal-Mart?" Dean asked, putting the car in park and peering at the building through the windshield.

"Yes," Cas sighed. "I don't want to be bombarded by sales people and Wal-Mart's employees leave you the hell alone."

"Okay," Dean said with a nod. "That's true."

"And I don't need anything special. I don't intend to be wearing these clothes for long."

xxx

As they drove back to Dean's, Cas stared at the cigarette in his hands.

"I really appreciate you buying my clothes, Dean. You didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

"I wanted to," Dean said, smiling over at him slightly before returning his gaze to the road.

"Well... thank you."

"Don't mention it, Cas."

Cas stared out the window, listening to Robert Plant's voice flowing through the speakers. "You know I don't actually expect you to give me five grand, right?" he blurted out suddenly.

Dean glanced over at him, chuckling as he returned his gaze to the road. "You can have it if you want. But I mostly said that to get you out of there and piss your mom off."

Cas smiled, still looking out the window. "Yeah. I don't even know what I'd do with it."

"Whatever you want."

Cas turned to face him. "Does Bobby really pay you enough to buy a house and pay all of your bills and have money left over? I mean, I know mechanic work is expensive, but..."

Dean laughed. "It's a very in-demand skill, so yeah, I make good money. But most people wouldn't have throw-away-five-grand money. But I've had the job for a long time, and... I don't have a family." He shrugged lightly. "And I don't really do much. So I save a lot."

Cas nodded, and the rest of the ride home was quiet, Dean humming along to the radio as Cas stared out the window. When they got back to the house, Dean let Floyd out back as Cas collapsed face-first onto the couch.

"Hey, dinner!"

Cas awoke with a start, rubbing his hand across his face. "Did I fall asleep again?" he mumbled, peering over the back of the couch.

"Yep," Dean replied from where he was standing at the sink, washing a pan.

Cas pushed himself up from the couch and made his way over to the table, pulling out his chair and sitting down. Dead made them each a plate of spaghetti with parmesan cheese, and in the center of the table was a bowl of salad and a plate of garlic bread. Dean had poured Cas a coke, and just as Cas took the first sip, Dean sat down across from him with a glass of water.

A few bites in, Cas set his fork down and swallowed to say, "You're a really good cook."

Dean laughed a little. "It's just spaghetti, Cas."

"My mother still managed to fuck that up. It was always still hard."

"Sounds like she was making it al-dente. That's the way some people like it."

"It was awful."

"I agree."

Another stretch of silence.

"So... how are you doing?"

Cas lifted his head to see Dean staring at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean after today."

Cas immediately looked back down at his plate, poking at the spaghetti with his fork. "I'm alright."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cas shrugged. "Not really."

"Are you sure? I mean that was some heavy-"

"I'm sure."

Dean kept his eyes on him for a moment longer before taking a sip of his water. "Okay." Maybe Cas would want to talk about it later, but he wasn't going to push him.

Once they finished eating, Dean collected their plates and put them in the sink. He took a shower while Cas changed into his pajamas and picked a movie. When he came back into the living room, Cas was leaned back on the couch, taking the first few pulls from a freshly rolled blunt. Dean flopped back in the center of the couch, tossing one arm around Cas' shoulders.

"What're we watching?"

"Pineapple Express."

"Right, the one you told me about."

"It's high time you've seen it." He paused. "Get it?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "You're a dork."

They spent the next two hours getting high, laughing their asses off, and sharing snacks. By the time the movie was over, Cas felt much better, the previous events of the day buried beneath pasta, THC, and sugar. As the DVD menu reappeared on the screen, Dean was getting quite handsy, so they stumbled down the hall and into the bedroom.

---

"Oh, no, they say he's got to go
go, go, Godzilla
oooohhh
oh, no, there goes Tokyo
go, go, Godzilla!"

"Cas... Cas. Your phone."

"It's too early," Cas grumbled, burying his face further into the pillow.

"It's almost ten o'clock," Dean responded.

One arm snaked out from beneath the blanket to slap the phone on the night stand. He swiped to answer without even lifting his head from the pillow. "Hello?" Dean watched as his head shot up and he winced at the sudden movement of his neck. "I'm not," Cas said coldly into the phone, mouth set in a deep frown. "Stop," Cas said loudly. "Just stop talking. I already told you I'm not coming back. Please, just..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Don't call me again." He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call, and then he threw it on the floor. "Fuck!" he ground out, dropping his head back into the pillow.

"I'm guessing that was your mom?" Dean asked quietly from where he was sitting on his side of the bed.

"Of course."

"So... you don't want any contact with your parents? Like, at all?"

Cas turned his head to look at Dean. "Am I wrong for that?"

Dean scoffed. "Fuck no. But maybe you should block her number."

Cas thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. She's still my mother. Maybe things just need some time to blow over."

Dean looked slightly skeptical. "Maybe." He stared down at Cas. "By the way, you're really cute when you just wake up."

Cas huffed a laugh and rolled onto his stomach to hide his face in the pillow. "Thank you."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"I don't care."

"You wanna go out? I kinda wouldn't mind not cooking for a meal or two."

"Sure."

"Well, whenever you're ready. I'm gonna go feed Floyd and let him out."

Cas nodded and as Dean left the room, he rolled over and reached down to grab his clothes off of the floor before realizing that he had all of his clothes now. They'd showered before bed, and he could actually put on clean clothes after staying over. Because he wasn't just staying over. He lived there now.

Smiling to himself, he crossed the room to his dresser and began to get dressed. Of course, when buttoning his jeans gave him a problem, he was reminded he'd gotten new clothes- and of the recent weight he'd put on. As he changed into the new jeans, it made him feel guilty for going out to breakfast with Dean. But he had to remind himself that this was it; today was the last day, and tomorrow he'd need to completely change his lifestyle, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Dean certainly looked like he was enjoying it, despite his hesitation when Cas proposed the idea on Friday night.

He took a moment to make the bed before sitting down on it and checking his phone. It had died early the day before, and with everything going on he'd completely forgot to charge it until they went to bed the night before. He had a few texts from Gabe, asking where he was on a Saturday night and why he wasn't at his party.

Cas hit reply and began typing.

Cas: Sorry... yesterday was crazy. My phone was dead and I moved out of my parents.

He was just slipping his phone back into his pocket when it went off with a reply.

Gabe: im sorry what?

Gabe: WHere are you?

Cas: Uh... Deans.

Gabe: Oh OK. cuz that makes total sense. NOT. what the fuck. u actually left ur parents?

Cas: Yes... it's a long story.

Gabe: so are u gonna tell me orrrrr

Cas: Yes, I'll come over tomorrow.

Cas: When do you work?

Gabe: 3-9

Cas: What time should I come over?

Gabe: come at like 10

Cas: Okay. I have to go but I'll see you tomorrow.

Gabe: k

Cas switched the volume off and shoved his phone into his pocket. He wasn't sure if Dean wanted to mix their laundry, so he put his dirty clothes in a small pile next to the laundry basket and made his way into the kitchen. He could see Dean through the glass door, sprawled back in one of the chairs on the patio, a glass of milk in his hand. Floyd was half-way across the yard, sniffing the grass lazily.

Dean turned his head at the sound of Cas opening the sliding door. "Hey," he greeted, smiling brightly.

Cas returned his smile. "Hey." He moved towards the chair past Dean as he flipped open his pack of cigarettes.

"Come sit on my lap."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't like the sappy stuff. I was kinda reeling it in before."

"I like the sappy stuff," Cas said, moving to stand in front of Dean. He positioned himself between Dean's legs and lowered himself down onto his lap. "Um... am I crushing your dick?"

"No," Dean chuckled, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Cas' middle. He rested the side of his face against Cas' back, inhaling slowly and letting it out in a sigh. As weird as it sounded, he was kind of sad that Cas was going to smell different now. Now he was going to smell like Dean's house, and Dean's laundry detergent, and Dean's bed. But beneath all that, he was still going to smell like Cas, so it was probably better this way. It just meant that he was Dean's now.

A click of a lighter interrupted the relative quiet as Cas lit his cigarette.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, you're a very comfortable chair," Cas answered, blowing out a stream of smoke as he squinted out at Floyd in the yard.

"You should sit on me more often, then."

"That can probably be arranged." Cas shifted his hips as if he was trying to get more comfortable, conveniently grinding his ass against Dean's crotch as he did so.

"Easy," Dean mumbled against his back. "Don't give me a boner, we have to go out to breakfast."

"Sunday breakfast," Cas muttered. "But yeah. I forgot about that. I'm starving."

"Me, too. I forgot how quick you're hungry again after you eat crap."

"So good food really fills you up for longer?" Cas asked nonchalantly, bringing his cigarette to his lips for another drag.

"Depends what it is," Dean said, one shoulder bumping into Cas' back as he shrugged. "But for the most part, yeah. I mean... at first you're still gonna be hungry. For sure. But you need to give your stomach time to shrink a bit. I ate so much grilled chicken and salad to lose that first fifty pounds, because the chicken was low in fat, and high in protein. Protein keeps you fuller for longer. And salad or vegetables are low in calories but high in nutrients and take up a lot of space in there. Take longer to digest."

"Makes sense I guess."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the serenity of the morning. A crisp, cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying a few dead leaves away into the neighbor's yard, and the air was filled with the sound of chirping birds. Floyd caught sight of a particularly large leaf, snapping at it as it fluttered past him before quickly losing interest once it'd hit the ground.

"I like your house," Cas said eventually, snuffing his cigarette out in the ash tray on the table.

"Me too," Dean agreed. He lifted his hips a few times, pressing his crotch up against Cas' ass. "Although it's much better with you here."

Cas twisted his head around and smiled down at him. "You're sweet."

"Mmm, you know what else is sweet?" Dean asked, still lifting his hips to hump up into Cas.

"What?"

"Maple syrup," he said, finally stilling his hips. "Which I'm going to drown some French toast in, and then devour."

"Right," Cas grunted, stretching his arms above his head until his back popped. "Breakfast." He stood up and turned around, and Dean was immediately standing behind him. Dean grabbed him by the face rather roughly, pulling it towards his own and pressing their lips together. They shared a few soft kisses and gentle gropes, until Cas slipped his tongue in and Dean had to pull away and drop his head.

"Fuck. We gotta go. I can't be walkin' around a restaurant with a fuckin' hard-on."

"Hmm... I wouldn't mind," Cas murmured, ducking his head to plant another kiss on Dean's mouth.

Dean kissed him back, but it was quick. "I'm hungry, man." He pulled back and looked past him. "Come on, Floyd!"

Floyd came trotting across the lawn and back onto the patio, and Dean turned to head back in the sliding glass door.

"I've created a monster," Cas muttered as he followed them in.

"Told ya," Dean smirked as he shrugged into his jacket. "Now come on. Last day."

---

A/N: please tell me what you think, i need validationnnnn~ assure me that this isn't total word vomit!